Star Wars New Sith Trials II: Rise of the Hand

IC: Mallace - Aboard a Small Ship

Mallace instantly regretted threatening the Clawdite. He was considerably more powerful than her - at that moment - and she was still reeling from all that had happened to her in... however long it had been since the time and reality jump. All the creature would have to do is lunge at her, lightsaber ignited, and attack. Of course, she would put up a fight. Who wouldn't? But she was doubting her current skills as a duelest - and her Force abilities were not up to par with most. A decision she had made herself. Much to her regret, right now.

And so, she stood there, glaring at the Clawdite with obvious disdain, as he had not bothered to respond to her desperate questions. He simply remained silent as Mallace prepared for the confrontation.

A confrontation that would never happen.

For a voice, suddenly, cut through the intercoms, and the man, evidently an official of some sort, barked orders at them. Was he aware of this little dispute? Possibly. The mysterious official had spoken something about a God-Emperor Insipid (God-Emperor?!), a General Barrett, and a High Lord Hesper.

Wait.

She suddenly felt rattled.

Did she hear the man correctly?

Hesper? Insipid?

Her mind cast back to the life changing encounter with Typhojem - an image and figure she could not remove from her brain, no matter how hard she tried - and remembered a name he had uttered. Several names. She recited them, briefly, but only in her mind.

'Insipid. Ravenous. Syren. Hesper. Kronos. Cruor.'

'Not a new soul among you.'

Who was she in that analogy?

Multiple seconds passed as she contemplated the thought. But then she was suddenly brought back into reality with another jolt of the ship.

She was about to make a run for it, dash to the cockpit and attempt to fly away - not the smartest idea, in hindsight, considering the clearly loyal Clawdite in her midst - but another person, dressed in an Imperial uniform, a rank insignia indicating something she knew not (she had not studied this), carrying a small holoprojector, broadcasting a single figure.

That figure was tough to make out. He was covered in a thick cloak, which his most of his face.

It was then he finally addressed everyone. And she listened intently.

It was around halfway through the speech when Mallace felt the ship come to a sudden halt, clearly making its landing. The man had stopped speaking and folded his arms across his chest, obviously looking to the ship that encased her, the Clawdite, and the Imperial.

She quickly moved to the upper levels to exit the ship.

And enter the outside world.

---
Aboard the Lesser Insipid, Both Intrigued and Bitter

As Mallace exited the shuttle, she found herself in a large hangar, holding God knows how many ships. Her mouth was wide as she glanced in all directions to soak it all in. Everything was slick and new in design, painstakingly polished to perfection, even giving off minor reflections to those that looked at the floor.

This was a new world for her. Quite literally.

And that was when she saw the gathered group. With the cloaked man in front.

It wasn't until then when she realized just how ugly he was up close. His face was scarred, decrepit, and covered in wrinkles, and he was pale, probably because he was wrapped in that cloak all the time.

He emanated power and gave off the impression he could obliterate you with his mind if he so desired.

He reminded her of Typhojem, in a way.

At that, her body noticeably shuddered.

Push it back, woman. Push it back.

She naturally assumed that the man before her was the 'God-Emperor' known as Insipid.

Probably-Insipid stepped back and allowed a General, a blue-skinned, dark red-eyed alien. Barrett, as Probably-Insipid had confirmed.

Mallace half listened as she summarized what Probably-Insipid had said. The First Order (whatever that was) had struck them, intervened in a mission some Lord Titus had embarked in, and escaped with another mysterious man they called Heskal. They have their current location, and their mission is to capture Heskal and bring him in. Basically, cleaning up the mess made during the aforementioned mission Lord Titus had taken a part in.

She was intrigued, however.

But that quickly turned into bitterness when she was given a number. She was going to be referred to as a number.

Five.

Shadow Five.

It suddenly dawned on her that she was nothing to these people. She had been locked in stasis for an unknown amount of time, suddenly released only to be murdered, and now she was suddenly amongst all of these powerful individuals, embarking on a mission after she had been released from stasis less than thirty God damn minutes ago!

She suddenly remembered why she had chosen to travel alone in the first place: there was no one to bark orders at her, use her as a pawn, and then proceed to cast her aside like a piece of useless, rotten meat.

She crossed her arms over her chest as Barrett finished debriefing, giving specific objectives to the various squad members beside her. She was not mentioned, of course, but, then again, maybe that was a good thing. She had less responsibility that way. Less of a chance of mucking it up that way.

Because, like it or not, she was a part of this now. With them. A Peon to be used and abused. Unless she decided to steal a shuttle during the mission and flee to the Outer Rim or the Unknown Regions. But something told her that she would be found very quickly....

Another idea came to her. If she stayed, and played her cards correctly, she could eventually rise through the ranks, and gain power and authority over the others. So she could not be used as a tool and nothing more. So she could achieve a level of strength she had never had before. So she could get revenge at those who mistreated her. Yes... she liked that idea.

But that was a long term goal.

And as Barrett finished his mission debrief, Mallace realized something.

She did not know where to go, what to do, or what to say.

TAG: Sinrebirth corinthia Darth Osnil Darth Cocytus Darth Master Titus Mitth_Fisto Dagobahsystem

 

IC: Radian T'Lenity
Zakuulian Swamps

The Pack appeared to be breaking, Radian wasn't sure what exactly had caused it, but he suspected it had something to do with T'tkura sizing up their leader. "Impressive." He spoke under his breath, tilting his head in a curious gaze. There was something concerning to him about the shear animal nature of the Whipid now in the force. It seemed to have a dark under-presence, but not one he recognized as Sith in nature. It seemed to blend with the environment, to be a natural extension of it.

Shaking his head, he decided not to focus to deeply on what had happened. It had saved their lives, and that was what mattered... for the moment. He would ask about it again when they were safely away from this hellhole.

He glanced around, reaching out with the force. He recognized the dwindling presence of the death of one of their comrades, but he would not mourn. Doing so would not bring him back, and they had more urgent matters to attend to.

Someone was engaging the Sith.
"Draco." He said, in an uncharacteristic croak of anger. Yes, he recognized the darkness channeling through T'tkura to him, their connection had not completely dissipated as he had initially assumed when the Whipid had left his battle meditation.

The animal instincts were oozing into him, and he resisted them. Backing up to a tree, he held a hand to his neck, holding himself back. This bloodlust was not befitting of a Jedi. "We need to get away if we can." he managed to mutter. Direct the dogs to attack the Sith, and run. He thought to himself, hoping T'tkura could sense it. This was dangerous he knew, and he clung desperately to one of the branches to prevent himself from lashing out in the dark high that was filling him. He took a deep breath, calmly trying to tug himself away from the pack mentality.

dragonsith13 , Snokers, Sinrebirth

 

Combo with Sinrebirth and Halle Dray
Csilla
IC:

Kwea clenched her jaw the slightest bit as K-7 quipped, trying to act like the mature adult she should be.

Before she could open her mouth to answer, the male Chiss who had met them at the end of their ramp snapped and told her both droids would need to be handed over.

"Oh- ah- yes, I will accept that, sir," came her steady-sounding reply that hid the claw-like feeling tearing at her stomach.

Eyeing the soldiers on either side of him, she gave a slight nod towards her droids. With a passive expression, she moved aside to let them at the droid and the fake.


It felt as if it were an eternity.

From the moment the blast shot out to the moment the Chiss soldiers made themselves known, an eerie silence permeated the air as Reiis stood aghast. It seemed the world froze in place, savoring that moment of dread and horror as if eating a delicacy -- oblivious to everyone else's feelings on the matter. Time moved again, twice normal speed now, as the soldiers moved into position, aiming weapons that suggested the Chiss knew what they were all along...

Reiis felt a shudder in the Force as the Chiss man spoke, electing to remain silent as she ignored K-7's snide remark entirely and focused on the blue-faced man. If need be, they could fight their way out, Reiis mused...not with their sabers, though, due to the anti-Sith weaponry their opponents were equipped with, but the Force would be more than enough. Reiis held silent, unmoving, but tugging telepathically at her Darksaber hidden on her back underneath her robes...should the worst happen. The worst, in fact, didn't happen, but it only made Reiis worry more.

"You will accept the handing over of your droids while you are on Csilla."

Not asking...definitely not asking. Reiis threw up her forearms droid-style, fretting like a whiny droid. "Oh dear! Master Linnea! I'll be made into scrap parts for sure! Have you heard what happens to confiscated droids?!" There was nothing more she could do but let the soldiers take them. Master Kwea had done all she could do, and Reiis hoped her last bit of dialogue was enough to keep them convinced that she was a droid.

Kriff....the Darksaber! No doubt the Chiss would search both her and K-7, especially her since she was robed...

Reiis took a droid-step forward, purposefully crooked toward the edge of the ramp. Her foot slipped on the smooth edge, as planned, and Reiis suppressed a yell as she fell back with an uncushioned clang, rolling rigidly and unceremoniously off the edge and temporarily out of view. Not wasting time, she reached back for the Darksaber, tossing it under the ship where Kwea would hopefully find it before anyone else did.

"Oh my! Oh my!" she cried out, mimicking a droid getting up from the ground as best she knew. "Blasted ramps! I never could get the hang of them!" Puttering towards the Chiss soldiers, she let them do what they will.

"Oh dear stars," Kwea thought as her apprentice tumbled off the ramp.

She kept her composure, and Reiis kept her droid act up successfully, but some small tingle at the small of Kwea's back alerted her to an object beneath the ship. Something that had Reiis's aura all over it.

"Her saber," Kwea thought. To the Chiss, she said lightly, "Here you are sir, my droids. I'm sure they won't be of any trouble."

Her mind was already racing with thoughts about retrieving that saber before anyone else could find it and accuse them of being Sith.

The Chiss officer arched an eyebrow, and gestured to a colleague. 'Restraining bolts.'

K-7 looked, if a droid could adopt an expression, despondent. 'Oh I hate these things.'

An officer stepped up and fitted K-7 with a bolt. He looked to Reiis, and his stance suggested confusion. He glanced to Kwea. 'Where is the bolt to be affixed?'

K-7 snorted an electronic wheeze. 'I can make a suggestion if it helps?'

The Chiss commander produced a remote and used it on the droid. K-7 instantly shuddered and fell silent. 'Enough. Assist my officer, Sith Lord.'

Sith Lord? He knew?

Kwea replied, "Just put it on the right forearm. It's a bit particular like our companion here. You may need to power that one down as well."

Kwea stepped away from Reiis and allowed room for the officer to do his job.

For the love of the Force....restraining bolts? Really? What were they going to do, weld it to her face? Hopefully they'd shut her "off" like they did K-7 so she didn't...wait a second...

Sith Lord?

Reiis shot a panicked side glance towards her Master, but kept her outward cool along with Kwea, grateful she suggested that Reiis, too, be powered off. She would have sighed with relief at that alone, but not only was she incapable of emitting a recognizable sigh, it wasn't very droid-like. Shuffling forward, Reiis extended her right arm awkwardly towards the Chiss, half wondering if they'd verbally question the robes and breathing. Perhaps the droid idea would fail miserably after all, and then they'd really be in trouble. What concerned her more, currently, was the fact that they knew Kwea was Sith -- and a Sith Lord at that! Had someone told them? Could the Chiss sense Force-sensitives? Reiis's mind swam with the possibilities, wondering now why they let them on the planet. Certainly, they'd be watched the entire visit. Perhaps they wanted to see their intentions before shooting or arresting them.

She closed her eyes for a moment, sensing Kwea's mind in an effort at telepathy. "Master," she said. "I'll do my best to stay in contact. I don't know what they have in store, but if something happens I'll do what I can to get out of wherever they're placing me." She glanced towards K-7. "I make no promises about the droid." A pause, thinking. "I can take care of myself, if you have to leave on your own. My Darksaber is beneath the ship. Please try to retrieve it."

Reiis' telepathic message came through to Kwea loud and clear. She sent back a tiny nudge of assurance back to her apprentice before turning to the Chiss man in charge.

"Sir? What would you have me do now?" she asked respectfully with her left eyebrow a slight raise.

'Come with me,' the Chiss turned his back to her. 'And tell me why you believe you have been sent here.'

The nudge of assurance reached Reiis as Kwea turned to the Chiss, but she kept her head facing the officer who was affixing the restraining bolt. It did nothing, as she expected. Turning away from the officer as the robes were replaced around the bolt, she watched Kwea and the officer as they began walking, panic rising as he stated his question.

"Tell me why you believe you have been sent here."

Kirffing hell...was this a trap? Had Haretisch sent them into a suicide mission? Reiis felt for her Darksaber underneath the ship as if for reassurance. It wasn't like they could do anything with anti-Sith weapons, but still. She waited.

"The Darksaber will have to wait," Kwea told herself as she followed after the Chiss.

Clasping her hands in front of her, Kwea, or Linnea rather, matched her paces with the man.

"I need to meet with Professor Besh'sosho'lirua. I believe I've been sent here to redeem myself in a way. Perhaps to save someone," she said.

'That is what I thought.' The officer gestured for the droids to follow, vaguely presenting the remote. K-7 awoke, and shuffled mutely. It did however have the presence of mind to magnetize the Darksaber to itself while the others focused on Kwea. It clicked a photoreceptor eye in a wink to Reiis.

The Chiss continued. 'But it seems suspect. More likely it is that you needed access to Csilla for something. Perhaps an assassination attempt on the Nine Families?' He referenced the leadership of the Chiss. 'Or a scouting mission, in anticipation of an invasion?'

He stopped at the entrance, which revealed a lift, large enough to cover the face of the icy hangar; you could fit a small tank in here. The soldiers followed, setting up at various points to look inward at the officer, Kwea, and the two droids.

'Your forces have, after all, amassed over Zakuul. Thrawn claims they are your own, but I see a pincer movement; and I find it unlikely that you have an injury so specific.'

The Chiss did not allow Kwea to speak, instead pointing at Reiis the remote. 'Droid. Who has supposedly been injured, and why are they so important?'

He paused briefly. 'And what has your owner done that would require an act of redemption?'

Contempt flooded his voice.

K-7 awoke beside Reiis as Kwea replied truthfully, albeit lacking detail. But her attention was momentarily turned away to their droid companion as it magnetized her Darksaber to itself, giving her a quick wink. Reiis grinned back for the first time since they met. The Chiss continued, and Reiis turned her attention back.

Now he was suggesting that they were liars. Damn. This was not turning out well. Within a few moments, Reiis found herself shuffling into a lift and surrounded by soldiers. The officer pointed the remote directly at Reiis. Her knee-jerk reaction would have been for Reiis to swat it away, but she merely paused for a second in confusion.

Oh, damn! Reiis jerked back, looking like someone froze her in place. Carefully, she responded. "A girl, sir....she was injured in a failed rescue attempt made by Master Linnea here. Honestly sir, we don't know much about her. Finding the good doctor was Master Linnea's way to make up for her failings." Half-truth...truth enough. It would have to do. She cringed inwardly for blaming it all on Kwea, but it wouldn't sound accurate to blame a droid.

The Chiss seemed disappointed, but reluctantly satisfied. 'Well if a droid repeats your story under a restraining bolt...'

'Fine.' With a button press he silenced the droids and nodded on. 'Master Linnea. I would present you.' As he spoke, the lift hit its location, its movement so swift and smooth that the drag was imperceptible. 'To the Nine Families.'

A cavernous hall was evident, and at the end was a dipped, circular area, surrounded by nine pillars. The area was lit by beams of light, but atop those pillars there was shadow.

The officer stepped onwards. The guards did not. 'Your droids will remain here.'

'Come forward, and plead your case to the Nine.'

The soldiers began to converse in low tones, muffled by their helmets. Clearly they could communicate within them. K-7 stepped over to Reiis, and its robotic voice was evident within her head.

Cranial implants, to communicate with secretly. You can only communicate verbally, the tech isn't good enough to pick up thoughts.

Lady Invadator, do you feel we are in danger? I can probably remotely hack into the Chiss comms, but I am unsure on the danger level.

The Force spoke with caution, but it was not focused. Part of it was typical Chiss paranoia, not too dissimilar to the low level tension associated with anticipated Sith treachery, but there was a slight twist to that sense; a wrinkle in the future, close enough to be relevant, but not immediate.

Orders?

The pillars illuminated the moment Kwea stepped down into the bowl. Nine individuals in different coloured robes, their faces concealed, were apparent.

The Chiss officer grimaced. 'You are now in the presence of the leaders of the Chiss Ascendancy. Frame your request clearly, so they may agree to it.' A pause.

'Or not.'

Relief flooded Reiis as the Chiss officer indicated satisfaction, though also disappointment. He pressed another button on the remote, and seeing as K-7 didn't shut down, she didn't either. Instead, she remained silent as the lift opened. She began to step forward, but stopped with the words: "Your droids will remain here."

Cursing inwardly, Reiis backpedaled a few steps and stood still. She didn't like this at all, but kept up the droid act. She almost broke said act when the voice appeared in her ear, startling her and making her jolt a little. It was K-7.

"Cranial implants, to communicate with secretly. You can only communicate verbally, the tech isn't good enough to pick up thoughts. Lady Invadator, do you feel we are in danger? I can probably remotely hack into the Chiss comms, but I am unsure on the danger level. Orders?"

When the kriffing hell did she get this? And why didn't anyone tell her??? Reiis bit her lip as she calmed from the surprise. Only verbal communication, huh? Kriff that.

Focusing on the droid's mind, she channeled her thoughts with the Force. "No...not yet," was her only reply. She wanted to wait...see...feel. Reaching out into the Force, she could feel wariness in the Force, but not immediate danger, and certainly not from any one person. But there was...something. Reiis wasn't sure what, but she knew it wasn't relevant at the moment. Reaching out now to her Master, she tried to sense her thoughts in hopes of gaining information on their situation before it was too late.

As she stood, surrounded by these nine beings, Kwea quickly ran through her options: tell the absolute truth, tell a sort of truth, lie outright. The first was probably the best option, she decided.

"Greetings. The Sith did not send me here to spy or battle. I tell you truthfully, I do not know if they plan to do anything to Csilla or your people. I only know that I have failed a mission once before and must now pay the consequences. There is a young woman who is gravely injured and I have been sent to meet with Professor Besh'sosho'lirua and inquire about the whereabouts of a doctor who may be able to save her. I simply request to be able to meet with the Professor, find the doctor, and bring him to my superiors so that they might have him heal the woman."

Kwea felt a tinge of relief as she spilled out the basics. She tried to make herself calm and excepting of their decision, telling herself to not fret about what fate might await her should she fail again.

One of the cloaks, the green one, spoke up. 'And why is this injured woman so important?'

'That is what we would know,' said Orange.

'It perplexes us,' said Rust.

'Why would one woman warrant a diplomatic moment,' came Red.

K-7 spoke on to Reiis. 'Okay, I won't access their comms.'

A brief moment while he strained to listen to the cloaked Chiss leaders; Reiis would be able to hear if she strained too.

A moment or two and K-7 came back to Reiis. 'How mad would you be if I got bored and checked the soldiers' comms anyway?'

The sense of danger spiked, enough that the threat would be felt to Kwea, too.

"I have reason to believe she is the daughter or some other relative of one of our leaders," Kwea said, addressing the questions.

"I was not told her importance. In fact, I only met her when I had to help dig her from some rubble," she continued truthfully.

Her calm was on shaky ground now. Would they not accept her request? Why hadn't Haretisch briefed her if this should happen?

Reiis strained to hear both Kwea and the Chiss leaders, barely able to hear their muffled words. Kwea, apparently, had told the truth, which was good because Reiis couldn't think of a better story. She couldn't help but wonder, however, if the Chiss would use Hel's potential importance to their advantage. But that was beyond their control...

K-7 had agreed not to access the comms, and Reiis was relieved she wouldn't have to fight him. Waiting quietly, but not at all patiently, Reiis continued straining to hear. She could feel her Master's calm waning, so she sent calm thoughts her way. If they could just get through this, they could manage.

"How mad would you be if I got bored and checked the soldiers' comms anyway?"

Reiis glared at him through her mask. "For crying out loud will you stop with--."

A sharp tremor in the Force made Reiis freeze, and her hand almost reached for the Darksaber that belonged on her belt. She stopped it in enough time that the only outward movement was a slight jerk in her hand. Not bad...considering she was supposed to be a glitchy droid, but consistency wasn't in the forefront of her mind. Through the Force, she felt the strong urge to do something..anything...before something terrible happened.

"Do it."

K-7 whirred; aloud, and a long, king moment passed, before he rocked slightly. Oh my! The soldiers are from the First Order! They're planning to strike at the Chiss leadership and blame the Sith!

K-7 still could not verbalize; his vocoder was shut off by the remote. The soldiers began to shift their weapons, not yet bringing them to bear, but getting their hands to them.

The Chiss leaders seemed to pause, looking to each other as Kwea responded. 'Interesting.'

'What do you offer us in exchange for this access?' Red spoke up, and the other robes seemed taken aback by the abruptness of the question.

'We are Chiss; not merchants,' scolded Green.

'But we should benefit from this. A single Sith is a tremendous threat; Darth Vader is legendary. When the locus of power shifts from Nirauan to Zakuul, and a new Empire arises, on which side of things do you wish the Ascendancy to fall? Equality, or as a servant state, as we have done in the past to the Sith.'

Russet shrugged. 'We shall acquire more with diplomacy than mercantile or military acts. The Empire of the Hand is weak; the Sith too. Intelligence suggests that the Empire Proper sued for peace months ago. If we are neighbourly from a neutral stance...'

'We are more likely not to get involved,' finished Blue.

Red shook his head. 'We must not surrender any advantage we have. The Sith have proven time and time again they are not to be trusted.'

As that line finished, the Chiss military man who had led them down stepped to the wall, providing an unhindered line of sight to the troopers shifting their weapons around softly.

"What?!"

Reiis turned and looked at K-7 disbelievingly, but turned her head back as the soldiers began to shift their weapons.

"You still have my Darksaber? If they make a move, we'll stop them." Now, she reached out to her Master, before it was too late. "Master! The Soldiers! They're going to attack and blame the Sith!"

No time for second guesses. Reiis remained frozen, waiting for the right moment to strike.

"I have nothing on me to offer right now. Perhaps money, jewels, or even weapons could be arranged to be given to you," Kwea offered.

Through the Force came a whispered warning from Reiis and the back of the master's neck tingled. Danger. Kwea's keen eyes saw the slight shift of the soldier's weapons and the movement of the Chiss male who seemed in charge.The golden specks in her brown orbs glowed hotly as she realized what they intended.

"Wait. I have something small. I do believe a valuable bit of warning might be of use. Those soldiers are ready to attack at any moment. They are not mine and I gather that they must not be yours if they want to attack," Kwea took a few steps to turn and face more of the nine beings, "There's a plan it seems, to blame it on the Sith. I might be able to assist you with this rebellion or whatever it is if you let me get to the doctor."

Her hand nimbly went to where her saber was hidden under her clothing, ready to defend herself if not also the beings.

@Halle-Dray, Sinrebirth, Anakin.Skywalker

 

Combo with Darth_wanderguard
IC: Alva and Kralkus
Hanger Bay - Hyperspace

With the announcement, the monitor which hung overhead from the shuttle turned from red print to green. From behind, a walking stick thwacked against Alva's knee - not hard enough to hurt, but certainly enough to be annoying.

"On the ship, on the ship now! Go, we must!" Kralkus flapped with agitation, and shuffled forward on short legs. Much to do, there is. And much to learn, you have, if take the holocron you will."

Alva turned his head, looking down to the thing that had stroke his knee. He had never been with the aged Sith Master in the past. There was just a vague understanding of his strong connection to the Force. For now, the best course of action was to stay on good terms with him, as much as a Sith could that is. A lot was at stake and the last thing Alva wanted was to attract meaningless struggle. "Right behind you, master Kralkus."

Alva followed the being, right up to the opened hatch of the R456 freighter bound for the Luxury Elite. Honestly, traveling with Kralkus was the better choice than traveling with any of the others. There was too much tension between him and Vexx - a fight would no doubt break out with the Dark Lord's holocron being so close. Traveling along with Skelm could raise suspicion between them both. Their façade needed to be played out perfectly until the right moment.

"Tell me, what do you make of this Sith group my master has formed? I'm surprised Thrawn was willing to back such a group of darksiders. Surely ,The Admiral, knows this agency will inevitably backfire sooner or later, once each of us has taken what we desire."

Kralkus emitted something between a grunt and a squawk in response as he hobbled along toward the cockpit, loading ramp drawing up behind them with a hiss. "Wise, the Grand Admiral is, and fooled easily, he is not. Always may you trust a dishonest man to be dishonest, hm? And always may you trust a Sith to behave as a Sith. Sought us, the Grand Admiral did. For many years, has he had designs on gaining the loyalty of force wielders. Jedi, Sith, it matters not."

Arriving in the cockpit, Kralkus hopped into the copilot seat, the implication being that Alva would take the primary reins.

"Know what he is about, the Grand Admiral does. And a plan, he surely has. Fulfill *our* purpose, we should, and allow larger beasts their own struggles."

"Can't disagree with you there," said Alva as he sat at the ship's control. "But there is something at work, something larger than all of this and a small part of it affects me somehow. If I'm not careful, it could destroy me." He recalled to mind his premonition by the Force that swept over him before the mission briefing.

"I believe my master's holocron can help me avoid a terrible fate." There was a momentary look of deep thought that came on Alva's face, yet soon with a slight shake of his head it was gone. "All in good time though, shall we get going?" He looked over to his wrist device in search of the coordinates to their destination. From their current location the journey wouldn't take long, about a standard day's trip through hyperspace. 'Good' Alva thought, he never did like excessively long travels through the vastness of space.

Alva entered the coordinates into the ship's navigation module and locked them in the system. With the push of a few buttons and a flick of a switch, the engines of the freighter roared to life. He reached for the ship's comm-link and opened a channel to the Revelator's hanger control tower. The freighter lifted from the floor as Alva pulled on the cockpit yoke, veering the ship towards the bay exit.

"This is the R456 requesting for take off."

The line crackled with a reply.

"Flight R456, you are approved for departure."

Once the ship had taken off and jumped into hyperspace, Kralkus hopped out of the copilot seat and hobbled towards the cargo hold.

"Come!" he croaked. "Much to learn, you have."

Alva stood up from his seat, removing the jacket he had been wearing for his disguise. He reached into the inner hidden pockets, grabbing his holocron and lightsaber. No doubt they would be needed for what was to come next. He set the jacket against the backside of the seat and walked away from the cockpit controls.

Kralkus lead the way into the cargo hold. It ranged to about your average sized haul, with just a little more room for larger crates and supplies. It definitely suited the requirements for a training regiment. Alva placed the holocron to center of the hold, then kneeled in front of it - however he did nothing. Curiosity began to set in as to what Kralkus had in store.

Tag Darth_wanderguard

 

IC: Soliloquy
Lesser Insipid Hanger Bay

Finding that it's music was unappreciated visibly by those present. It knew this as it had followed Titus to precede the Emperor into the hanger. Unappreciated in it's own time, was that not the hallmark of a great musician? Still it was an odd sensation to precede the Emperor, or to precede anyone truly. It was used to passing with someone, and the droid AI of the Palpatine was insufficient to quail those sentiments of oddness. After all, it was still just a holocron.

Eight troopers in antiquated designs stood in black as the eye patched Chiss General signed off his datapad. The exchanges were short and direct and excluded any below the Emperor and the General, as it should be for verbal exchanges in such a situation.

Insipid strode to the front of the briefing, turning so that his cloak lapped up as he pivoted, teasing at Barrett's face. The Chiss swatted it aside and Insipid concealed a smile, his cracked Snoke face, replacing his Son visage, apparent to Hesper, Osnil and Cocytus. For perhaps the first time it wondered, and wondered aloud to another as it shared the data thought with the AI, 'What an odd empire we serve, where one can change their entire body in the span of a day. And none bat an eye.' It was tempted to add it was an advantage of the Force, but the Chiss General and the troops were among those that said nor questioned anything.

The initial mission briefing by Insipid was a simple recap of what had happened wrong today. At least the public record of what went wrong today, the private record as always was a much richer story. So often the hidden tapestries were such of all their lives. If being a holocron still counted as living after some fashion.

'While you are en route I expect you to clean up, kit yourself out with the on board quartermaster, and defer to General Barrett and High Lord Hesper. The General will have military command of the mission, and will take over this briefing.' Insipid glanced over as a shuttle and a ship were nudged into the hangar. Without further ado, he folded his arms to Hesper he absently indicated with his chin the ship.

The General bristled, but stepped forward to draw attention to himself. He produced a small spherical droid, which floated to the centre of the hangar. As he did so, the flagship began to turn, though the manoeuvre would be relatively undetectable to the organics Soliloquy and the droid Emperor AI made note of the instance. The mission was truly getting underway as the General talks. The Emperor meanwhile strode to his shuttle dragging one of the newcomers in his wake.

That left Barrett with Hesper, Cocytus, Osnil, Soliloquy, Titus, Valdimar and his brother. Seven. Barrett's confusion as he took in Soliloquy was like a welcome balm to the holocron after the long day it had endured; Insipid had not made any mention of a Sith droid - but the Chiss General had no intention of appearing as if he knew nothing. It was deliciously prideful of the man. It idly wondered, would that be how this mission would kill these all? Pride.

'Sith Lords and Ladies.' The droid activated, creating a projection of the galaxy above them. 'Nirauan, capital of the Empire of the Hand, Csilla, homeworld of the Chiss, and Zakuul, rechristened New Moraband.' A triangle of worlds were lit, with the shortest of the three sides between Csilla and Zakuul, and the longest between Zakuul and Nirauan, encompassing roughly a hundred sectors between them, in the Unknown Regions, in the west of the Galactic map. 'Between these three points lies the majority of the what is relatively charted space. To the south of Zakuul are the abandoned Rakatan worlds, and further beyond that is Ssi-Ruuvi stage. To the north of Nirauan is largely uncharted space, though on the fringes of the Known and Unknown lies the worlds of the Kaleesh and Huk.' Good to know not too much had changed between universes.

A fourth point lit up. 'This is the location that the enemy jumped to following their raid on Zakuul. Both the enemy spy ship and corvette did so. We cannot discount that this is a trap - which is why we shall be launching a wing-pair to investigate. Following their positive report, the flagship will jump in, and deploy a landing craft to secure the enemy until the Lesser is placed to end the orbital engagement. If a ground based installation is detected, there will be a second phase to the battle; our Squad will penetrate their defences and seize Heskal, before pulling back.'

Barrett liked to keep his plans direct but flexible. Much of his actual tactics would be determined by the disposition of the enemy. 'Mission designations of Shadow Squadron are as follows. Your number will indicate you and your assigned commando, so when Command refers to you by number it is naming you both.' He jerked a thumb at himself. 'Lead.' A finger noted Hesper and Valdimir. 'One and Two.' He gestured on to Titus, Cocytus, Mallace, Osnil and Soliloquy respectively 'Three, Four, Five, Six and Seven.' When you don't know a name and don't want to ask, just make one up, hmm. Interesting how the pride went before this Chiss.

'Shadows One and Two will take the two of the three TIE Defenders aboard to scout. These have a hyperdrive, so they are able to jump into the target system. Shadow zone will have command.' The Chiss continued. 'Shadow Three through Six will prepare a shuttle to depart. Shadow Three will have command of the shuttle element for the boarding, but will launch on the orders of Lead.' Barrett appraised the droid. 'Shadow Seven will have the third TIE Defender assigned and act as a reserve aboard, deployed to engage fighter screens or cover landing actions. There are three squadrons of standard TIE fighters, which will be under the command of Seven.'

'Alright. That is almost too perfect of an opportunity for you.' it thought to the Emperor AI that was in the droid chassis.

Barrett nodded. Three squadrons when there should be six. Disappointing. Insipid had lifted those fighters from the ship, replacing them with the three Defenders, but that was itself nothing equivalent. 'This is rounded out by a full eight thousand Imperial storm troopers, and various landing craft.'

The Force suggested caution, even as it whispered of danger, though it was clinical... almost like a droids intellect. Something Soliloquy was becoming all too familiar with, something which prompted it to check on the AI, but the AI, hidden and unknown within Soliloquy, stayed silent. Although it went to lengths to make clear to Soliloquy that it was not engaging with the comm or any such treacherous act as it laid the systems bare for a moment before them. It was not the source of the malice.

Barrett returned his arms to the small of his back and drew it's attention away from the AI as the General made statements about preparing with questions or dead for the coming mission. It had nothing to add nor ask. Death was come for this mission but not for it. And it came with a three hour counter.

Noticing one that did not seem to know how to respond the droid moved toward her, perhaps it was merely a deep ingrained part of the holocrons many souls. "Excuse me dear." Came the rasping gender neutral tones from it's vocoder. "May I be of assistance to Lady Five?"

TAG: @Darth Cocytus, @Darth Osnil, @corinthia, @Darth Master Titus, @Darth Kronos, @Sinrebirth, @Dagobahsystem

 

IC: Saadi

Sentinel-class shuttle

There was a time to answer questions, but now was the time for Saadi to be asking them. He stared at Mallace with a look meant to kill her dead on sight. His thoughts turning over incessantly, like a broken hyperdrive, asking, complaining even, "Why have I been asked here and for what does this entail?"

Raising his lightsaber and stepping forward, the Clawdite was immediately frozen in his tracks upon hearing a transmission beamed aboard the shuttle.

All forces stand down. God-Emperor Insipid, General Barrett, and High Lord Hesper are expecting you to join their briefing aboard the flagship.

God-Emperor Insipid. That voice? Was it real? Wait. Had he heard it before?

Darth Saadi somehow knew what this summons meant to him, although he remained vastly ignorant of the potential consequences or benefits at the same time. Or what it might mean for his survival. He brushed off a sudden chill that swept over his entire being and smirked at Mallace, refusing to speak to her.

Sensing a tremor in the Force, for the first time since his father had been murdered, Saadi was truly afraid. No one must know of this seeming cowardice.

Lowering his lightsaber slowly, he deactivated it and carefully replaced it on his belt while watching Mallace suspiciously. Sensing no further threat, Saadi's attention turned quickly to a most important data communique he had just received. The assassin's throat became dry and his pulse quickened at the implications of this information. Saadi slowly composed himself and focused on his previous training in the ways of the dark side as he felt the shuttle touch down at its destination. He and it were pulled there irrevocably by the dark side of the Force.

Aboard the Lesser Insipid

The Clawdite walked slowly, trying to conceal himself, although he knew this was a fruitless task under these circumstances, and then suddenly felt an ominous tug pulling on his brain from the darkest reaches of the Force, bidding him to follow it.

Stifling a cough, he changed course, as he quickly passed by an array of several silhouetted figures involved in a briefing of sorts, or so he surmised.
Saadi struggled for breath as he realized what might be happening to him. He found himself strangely walking more steadily as time seemed to slow down to an unquantifiable pace, although his heart rate implied the converse. He breathed deeply.

Private Shuttle

Entering the arrivals bay, the shape-shifter finally saw him in person. Curtailing his fear as best as able, Saadi was initially intrigued by the relaxed demeanor of this person or thing whom he had both longed and feared to meet.

Seated on the floor and waiting, patiently one could only hope, God-Emperor Insipid
seemed quite calm in spite of being occupied by a great many things.

'Greetings, my Lord.' Saadi stammered as he bowed deeply.

'Apprentice Saadi. We meet at last.'

'May I sit with you, my Master?'
Without waiting for an answer, Saadi awkwardly slumped down in a relatively protected corner, sitting cross-legged, some distance from Darth Insipid, while carefully folding his hands and bowing his head again.

'What do you come to me for?'
The dark Lord of the Sith asked quietly.

Yet still, the deceptively friendly, yet unreadable, unknowable tone of his voice caused the attention averse Clawdite much anxiety and fear.

A moment passed that for Saadi seemed a thousand upon thousands.

'I seek the power of the dark side, my Lord, and greater knowledge therof, so that I might better serve you and your Empire, my Master.'

Darth Saadi raised his head and looked directly at Lord Insipid, awaiting his fate.

Tags: Sinrebirth Darth Kronos corinthia Darth Cocytus Darth Master Titus Darth Osnil Mitth_Fisto

 

The Luxury Elite - If You've Got the Credits, We've Got the Disease!

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The ladies level features all the sexes and settings that we offer the men, except with a more vast wine list.

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Experience may vary. Luxury Elite LLC is not responsible for any burning, maiming, or cannibalism which may occur while on board The Luxury Elite TM. Luxury Elite LLC reserves the right to remove any party from the premises at any time for any reason. Removed parties will be escorted through the airlock into the vacuum of space.​

 

IC: Serapis
Castle Ctal'thua grounds

Serapis was crouched. Inside a stone tomb. Silence all around him. Another of his Sith group with him: Alekto. The other one that had come with them, Arach, had escaped. We needed to escape, too. But how?

Silence.

Things do hold Force essence. These crumbled walls may have been steeped in the Force for so long that it drowned out anything else. Like a scream drowned out among the crowd at a Podrace.

Hopefully if he couldn't hear the boy or that... tree... maybe, perhaps they couldn't hear him, either.

He turned to Alekto. Not sure if she could hear him, but he had to try. "I'm going to get us out of here, Alekto." She seemed to be in shock or something. But he felt... what?... responsible? for her. Yes, responsible. She was in his charge. So long while he was in business, he was all by himself. Now he had Alekto as a charge. He had that Star Cruiser up there that he was in charge of, too. One could get lost in those metalic halls.

Lost. Maybe that's a thought. That boy had to know the castle halls well, but it's such a shambles now, there must be some hole where he and Alekto could hide.

"Alekto, if you can run, please get ready to. We're going to the castle."

Serapis was used to carrying explosives these days. There was something about that satisfying boom. He didn't have any of those things with him just now. He just had himself and the Force. But that was enough.

Serapis concentrated on all of his hate. He concentrated on all the things that had been done to him through the years. The trouble he had in school. The lack of any real acceptance by any of his peers. More recently the death of "Deathy" to that "god" they went against when Heratisch wanted to betray them. He gathered it together until it felt like a dark star in his heart. It felt like electricity to his skin. His nerves were on edge. Just when he felt everything was at it's fullest extent, he released it upward.

To anyone remaining outside it must have looked like an explosion. Rock flew up and out. Without looking, he grabbed Alekto's hand and ran. There was a hole in the castle wall where this rubble had come from. He slipped through that hole and disappeared.

Tags: Moonspun Dragon, Lady Belligerent, dragonsith13

 

Playing dress-up (combo) with Lady Belligerent!

IC: Zalen & Leda
Citadel, New Moraband

The last few hours had been sheer bliss for Zalen. She'd dropped her gear and gone straight for a massage and soak that had left her refreshed and ready to face her next tasks. Initially she'd been a bit concerned that Bellorum would be livid over the loss of her star destroyer, but fortunately the Dawn Herald was away from the Temple currently and no one had an ETA on when she'd be back.

Reflecting on the last few hours, she realized she'd try to forget about what had happened on the shuttle leaving the Obelisk. It could have been written off as fatigue, but she knew that wasn't the case. Not since everyone seemed to have been going through a similar experience that involved each one's personal hell.

Zalen shivered slightly, and chided herself. It was in the past, and she'd die before being a Hutt's plaything again. Her sparse chambers offered comfort from the memories that sometimes plagued her... well, memories, and that bitter cold. She had threatened a maid that kept adjusting the room's temps when she came to clean. This was her space and damned if she'd feel cold in her sanctuary.

She removed the towel that she'd wrapped her hair in, and slowly dried her thick red mane. "Time to focus on the present, old girl," she laughed aloud to her empty quarters, "and you need a new look."

Dressing in simple attire, she grabbed a travel valise and headed for the quartermasters.

=====

The quartermaster area of the new Temple was still being stocked, and Zalen smiled as she entered remembering the one at the former Temple. 'I wonder if Kralkus and Kronos ever found those ridiculous chainmail g-strings,' Zalen recalled with a giggle about the flimsy metal undies she'd hidden in both of their bags.

Stopping inside the door she glanced around at the blood spatter and detritus from an altercation of some sort, "good to see we aren't far off from how the old one looked." She peered around shelves and boxes, but didn't find any sign of living beings to assist her. Shrugging, she started rifling through packages that looked interesting. The pile of possible items beside her was growing as a droid arrived carrying more boxes.

With the assistance of the droid, Zalen had all she needed for the mission. In fact, as she posed in front of the mirror, she didn't recognize herself. This was even better than she could have imagined, and she had a set of luggage filled with outfits and accessories. This was going to be fun...yes, fun.

She turned to the side to get a better perspective of the prosthetics thinking she needed someone to try the costume out on. The timing of voices in the next room was perfect, or maybe the will of the Force. Zalen smoothed her lipgloss and and strode confidently into the main area.

Leda had arrived, presumably to pick up her own disguise, when she would find herself standing before an unfamiliar female Twilek, blue of skin and emblazoned head to foot with tattoos in a pale gold.

Relaxed, refreshed and feeling mostly renewed, Leda had finally received word from Zalen that mission preparations were to begin immediately. She had been ready and waiting of course, fleeing her quarters and setting off to the designated meeting place like a rancor at feeding time.

While striding down a corridor, she hastily adjusted the sling that currently held her arm. Sure the limb wasn’t 100% just yet, but she had received several bacta treatments and it was on the mend. This extra precaution seemed a bit excessive. Plus, it was flat out annoying.

Finally reaching her destination, she raised her chin and crossed over the threshold to enter the main area of the quartermaster’s. There was a lingering scent of… death hanging about that caused her to pause, but this being within the Citadel, Leda merely brushed it off as commonplace. “Sith will be Sith,” she muttered with a shrug, eagerly pulling her arm free of the cumbersome sling and tossing it aside.

She didn’t need nor want it any longer.

Chewing her lip anxiously and slowly flexing her tender muscles, her eyes scanned the area quickly, expecting to spy Zalen straight away. However, all she found was a blue-skinned twi’lek who had just sauntered into the room. She took in the intricate tattoos that adorned the female’s body and smiled appreciatively, her gaze halting on the unknown alien’s glistening lips. Even though the face was unknown to her, there was something… familiar there.

“Do I know…” she started, furrowing her brow in confusion. “Have we met before?”

Zalen beamed at Leda and winked, "if you've forgotten, then I'm sure I could remind you...if you have credits."

She'd barely made it through that statement before collapsing into a chair in laughter. "I guess that means my disguise passes," Zalen said as she wiped her eyes. "I'm going to grab an extra prosthetic tail just in case things get crazy and this one is damaged," she said thoughtfully and studied the headtail that was draped over her shoulder.

"Let's work on your gear so we aren't late to catch the shuttle."

Leda had been about to indulge the twi’lek and ask ‘how much’ when it hit her like a swift kick to the head.

“Zalen?!” she exclaimed, impressed with both the thorough get-up the Sith had managed and with... well, the woman herself. Immediately shifting gears, she was immensely intrigued, a large grin stretching across her face. So, the next mission would require them to be in full disguise? Oh the possibilities…

The warrior wasted no time and set about rummaging around the quartermaster’s, tuning out the small pangs of discomfort her arm was still giving off. Looking for something to match the level Zalen was at, she haphazardly tossed aside fabrics, masks, and wigs of all assorted shapes and colors until finally spotting something of interest. High up on a shelf in the main room was an ornate headdress of some sort, striped white and a deep red. Using the Force to nudge it from its perch, it fell lightly into her hands and, figuring out what it was, an idea formed in her mind.

“Togruta it is,” she said aloud with a mischievous smirk, already beginning to search the piles she had created for the proper outfit to compliment the mock montrals.


TAGS: Lady Belligerent WookieeRage

 

- A very romantic combo with Sinrebirth.

IC: Darth Kronos and Esmerelda - Their Getaway Planet, Finally Alone

An alarm on the shuttle beeped, indicating they were reaching their destination, and Kronos moved from the passenger area, where he and Esmerelda were, to the pilot's seat in the cockpit, flicking a few switches. The ship soon exited hyperspace, its signature blue hue turning into thin lines before disappearing entirely, suddenly placing them into the darkness of space.

It had taken a couple of hours, which felt longer than they actually were, most of it spent in idle chit chat, silence, and the occasional kiss, but they had finally reached their getaway planet.

Which would be especially relieving for Esmerelda. As Kronos never did tell her where he planned on taking her, always promising the surprise would be well worth it.

Time would tell.

As the shuttle neared the planet, the exact name of it would become apparent, its greens, blacks, and blues indicating land and ocean respectively making it glow like a beacon of light in the deep darkness of the remote, out of way space it occupied. A large ring surrounding the planet, also being visible from the planet's surface, giving it an added pop to its appearance.

On the databanks, its name and all of the noteworthy events that occurred on or around the planet were detailed.

Kronos slowed the shuttle substantially as they neared the planet, allowing Esme to soak it all in.

Lah'mu.

He had known a decent amount of its history, through his parents. They had not been there personally, but a family had, and they found them to be an inspiration. But its history was also an issue. The Empire had shown up to it at one point to capture this family, which went awry, and that could mean Imperial inhabitation. So, he immediately ruled it out, searching for other planets. Naboo. Coruscant, his home planet. Lehon, also known as Rakata Prime. Scarif. Et cetera. All of which having some semblance of Imperial inhabitators, some form of conflict. So, they would not do. And in desperation, Kronos had turned to Lah'mu, finding it, in fact, did not have any Imperial occupation. He and Esmerelda would be truly alone. Furthermore, he knew the atmosphere was breathable, and its appearance was beautiful.

Wonderful.

But even with the second Death Star destroyed, Emperor Palpatine and Darth Vader dead, and their resources dwindling, the long reach of the Galactic Empire remained. Which made it extremely difficult and frustrating to find a getaway planet. It had taken him a week to find something that he believed to he suitable.

He exhaled through his nose.

This was, and felt like, a long time coming.

Esmerelda had spent the entire descent from orbit in awe. She was no minor stellar cartographer, and she subconsciously knew that they had broken Darth Insipid'sedict about leaving the Unknown Regions, but she was so focused on the planet, on just how beautiful it was, and how much effort that Kronos must have put into this break - this vacation. She was so touched, and happy, that she was about ready to alternate between tears and grinning like a proverbial cat.

The journey itself had been a delight; just the two of them, alone, relaxing into each other's company. Esmerelda was mostly speechless with the overwhelming emotions she had within her.

And now they were here.

Wherever here was.

She didn't need to know the planets name; she just needed to know it was tranquil, and peaceful, and quiet.

This world seemed just that.

'Oh, Kronos,' she said, breathing. 'It's perfect.'

Esmerelda did not even allow himself to wonder how long they had; so full was her joy.

Kronos had wrapped his arm around Esme's lower back - just as soon as she had walked into the cockpit to get a proper view of the world - as he had looked directly into her eyes and grinned, something he surprisingly found himself doing much more often. "I'm glad you like it. It certainly was a pain in the ass to find something suitable, though." Kronos chuckled.

His attention, and arm, returned to piloting the shuttle as they entered Lah'mu's atmosphere, fully revealing its features. It was an oceanic and land covered
planet, with mostly black ground, grass growing in small and random areas, as if someone had been attempting to grow it, and had suddenly stopped. Waves splashed against the black sand - possibly dirt, possibly not. Its waters were a mixture of white and blue, its land was mostly flat, with the exception of various small cliffs throughout, and a small amount of moisture vaporators, clearly a human element, were littered. Presumably to turn the salt water of the oceans to usable water. The planet's sky, during the daytime, would be a vibrant shade of blue, with small, puffy clouds hovering above the surface, and its sun would be shining brightly. But, when the couple had arrived, it was not the daytime. In fact, the sun was just beginning to set, creating a lovely orange glow to the sky.

Yes, Lah'mu was quite beautiful.

He glanced towards Esmerelda.

Very apt.

As he lowered the shuttle, its wings folded upward gracefully - a signature move of practically every Imperial shuttle - as its engines blew away some grains of dirt.

The ship halted, and Kronos shut it off.

The ramp lowered and Kronos offered his arm to Esme, using the Force to levitate the wooden box to him, then carrying it underneath his other arm.

He left the ship and chose a particularly grassy area to sit, opening the box and pulling out a large blanket and various foods - fruits, multiple kinds of meat, et cetera. A picnic was, admittedly, rather childish, but Kronos felt a more simplistic first date was better than an over the top one. The grandiose nature of it came from the breaking of Insipid's Unknown Regions rule.

He soon realized he had no idea how to break the ice.

He decided he might as well start with something simple.

"So... how are you?"

Esmerelda laughed at Kronos. 'How can you be nervous after everything we have been through?'

She took one of the glasses and poured herself something fruity. Bubblezap? 'I am great, Kronos. Better than great. How are you?' She grinned.

'Incidentally... as you never know with Sith. Is Kronos your real name?'

It was an icebreaker question, as she poured Kronos out a drink too.

He took the drink and sipped a small portion of it. A taste testing sip.

Lovely.

Once Esmerelda asked him about his true name, he sighed. "No. It isn't."

A pause.

"My real name is..."

Another pause. As if he were trying to remember what it was.

"It's-"

Another beat. Long enough for Esmerelda to know he was uncomfortable.

"Cassian," he finally blurted out, noticeably wincing. He had not used his true name in such a long time - four years - and, saying it out loud now, it felt extremely awkward. As if it wasn't his real name at all. For four years, he had gone by his Sith name called Kronos - or Darth Kronos if one was feeling formal - and, after a while of use, he had grown so accustomed to it, he had nearly forgotten what it actually was. It was simply another aspect of his past, his time as a Jedi, that was forgotten....

"Willix," he added. "Cassian Willix."

He winced once more.

His own name was foreign to him.

'Cassian.' She tried it out on her lips. 'Kronos. Cassian.' She shrugged. 'Wilix. I'm sure I know the surname from somewhere...'

She smiled again. 'Are you famous? Have I been enticed by a former playboy millionaire?' Esme stuck out her tongue and squeezed his knee affectionately. She went the way of gentle humour; his discomfort was very apparent and rather than add to it by backtracking, she wanted to smooth over the moment.

Kronos couldn't help but laugh with her playful humor. Through his laughter, he replied to her. "I was named after the famous Rebel who aided in the stealing of the first Death Star plans - Cassian Andor. They were certainly fans of the team. Willix just coincidentally happened to be a code name he used during one of his missions, a fact my parents were proud of."

His grin turned into a smirk. "So, no, I wasn't famous. Sorry to disappoint you."

Remembering his parents, his ever so loving parents, brought him both joy and pain. They had treated him well, given him a home, and trained him in the ways of the Force even before entering the Jedi Temple. He had loved them.

But their deaths....

He quickly pushed that aside. This was a happy moment, and he did not want it to be ruined with such negative thoughts.

Kronos - nay, Cassian - flipped the parental question over to her. "So, what about your parents? What did they do?"

'Nothing.' Esme laughed at herself, self-depreciatively. 'I was the first of my family to get to higher education thanks to that grant. They were workers; retail, and all that.' Esme lazily toyed with her food. 'Followed the straw hat making business across a few worlds that liked handmade things.'

She blushed a bit. 'It's really banal. Nothing like 'being named for a famous Rebel.'

Esme frowned, with a smile to her lips. 'Wasn't he a Separatist by birth?'

"Yeah, he was. But, someway, somehow he joined the Rebellion and aided in turning the tide in the war. My parents found his, and the entire team's, actions inspiring."

He sipped his drink, still having not touched his food. "I had to hear about it often."

He backtracted slightly. "And I don't think yours is banal. I'm curious."

Esme lifted a bowl of gummy fruit up, and shuffled forward, holding one up to him. If he tried to take it, she would not allow him, smiling. 'Open up, Kronos.'

Absently she went to feed him one of the small green fruits. She thought they might be grapes, but Esme had never had some. As she did so, she spoke. 'Hort and Fran. We had no surname, and it was tradition for someone who married into the family to drop theirs, would you believe. Some historic anachronism from the families original home world, generationally.' Esme looked thoughtful. 'We used to say that it was because, when surnames were handed out based on profession or defining feature, our family was in the leadership role, but refused to acknowledge it, and that the lack of a surname showed they were for the people they served.' Esme shrugged.

'We were from one of the original Sith worlds. The ones that predated the Exiles arriving after the Battle of Corbos. My basic understanding that the Sith Order had existed prior to 6,900 meant that I was already leagues ahead of children at school learning the Jedi-Sith histories; I think that is why I went into the specialism at university.'

It was a happy memory, but also an unhappy one, now. She remembered how proud her parents had been when her application for the scholarship was accepted. Esme set down the food. 'Of course, everyone is dead now Typhojem did his thing.'

Kronos accepted the grape. He didn't even like them all that much, but he didn't want to upset her.

"Yeah," he said darkly. "They are."

He took a bite from his food. "Mine were former Jedi. Jasmille and Jacen. But they both opted to leave the Order after falling in love with each other, so they wouldn't be breaking any of their codes. It was a romantic thing, really. Abandoning their promising position and career for one another."

He pulled her closer. "After that, my mom became an accountant for a large company, so we did well for ourselves. Dad usually stayed at home to train me in the ways of the Force. I rarely played with the other kids in my neighborhood. Always training. Constantly. In preparation for the Jedi eventually finding me.

"They were surprisingly keen on giving me up to them, so my actual home was within the halls of their Temple.

"As you can tell, I didn't have much of a childhood."

Another beat before he resumed speaking. Which probably said something, too.

He mildly changed the topic. "So, did you have any friends at all?" A pause as he looked into her eyes. "Maybe even a boyfriend?" Kronos winked after that, in a playful way, with a hint of something sensual.

'Wouldn't you like to know?' She grinned. Of course the answer was no; she had to be a virgin for the ritual after all. Haretisch had driven off suitors all her educated life.

Esme decided not to ask him to elaborate. He seemed glum about the parents to an extent.

She went coy. 'So, Cassian.' Still strange; but it was his actual name. 'You're a former Jedi Padawan. A disciplinarian? In more ways than one? A man who would take charge if he had the opportunity?'

He smirked slightly. "I don't know about that last bit. The epic failure of the Heskal mission kind of proves my inadequacy in a leadership role."

Inside, he went glum. But on the outside, his expression was barely changed - neutral now - so he could hide it. Although, maybe she knew him well enough to detect it.

He took a final sip of his drink before setting the glass to the side.

She leaned over and put a hand to his face. His eyes had wavered, and then solidified. 'We had a fleet in orbit - one would think the Triumvirate could deploy a screen to prevent infiltration. But it's not as if they've won any battles straight up, Kronos. Insipid set you up to fail.' She shrugged. 'I hear Haretisch did it to Kwea and her apprentice too. Cracking Zakuul is going to be tough and the Dark Lords are too scared of what happened on Mortis to put themselves in real danger.'

She refocused on him. 'So don't beat yourself up for it. Titus, Aryan, Jagall, and you; it's hardly the greatest task force.'

He subconsciously held the hand she put on his face. "Yeah, maybe," he replied, deep in thought, but said in a manner that could be mistaken for sadness or depression.

An idea suddenly came to him. "Maybe it wasn't just Insipid, though... I mean, think about it." He sat up, back straight, and hand now removed from hers, a newfound energy not seen from him too often. "Those First Order soldiers had somehow made their way through the ranks to join that mission. And I had noticed them enter the troop transport last minute, as if someone in command placed them there.

"I had originally shrugged it off, thinking it as some extra troopers for our mission. But since every single one of them was involved in the betrayal...

"What if it was a set up? Not just from Insipid, but someone else too."

He rose slightly as a realization came to him. "... Remember when you typed a message for me on that datapad which carried the necessary information on it? You wanted me to suss Jagall out, saying Ike had been adding newcomers to the mission? What if those newcomers also included the First Order soldiers? What if Ike had placed them there to sabotage the mission for his own benefit?"

He scoffed, clearly hatefully. "The Sith. It's just a game of lies, deceit, and betrayal."

A slight pause. "So, what do you think?"

'Ike...' Esme thought aloud. 'I know you don't like him, but I always had the impression that he was just as trapped as I felt; he was always trying to get Thrawn to meet him in that second week. Without Insipid covering him, he is insanely vulnerable. Insipid could order you to kill him because it is that simple. Smoothing it over with Thrawn will be easily done, until he figures us out. I half suspect he's handed us Zakuul so he doesn't have the hard slog himself. We get stuck, and don't cause him any grief.'

Esme shrugged. 'Thrawn himself is a conundrum. Why would he ally with us, when we were so clearly at a disadvantage when he found us? Now we have ships, and men, and resources. Insipid and Haretisch are at least as dangerous as Palpatine and Vader.'

She shook her head. 'A Chiss genius and a God-Emperor, trying to one up each other while a dangerous Dark Lord dabbles in being an Imperial.' She was referring to Haretisch. 'Meanwhile Bellorum is doing, what, exactly?'

'What if Thrawn inserted the First Order troopers into the pool? Or allowed it, wanting to see which of us will win in the long term? Maybe we're bait?' Esmerelda's mind was ablaze with wonder, as much as Kronos sat up with sudden energy.

He tilted his head to the left and just as quickly returned it to a straight position. "It certainly is a decent theory. One that will likely never be fully answered.... But I'm feeling I'm detracting from our moment. This was supposed to be the one time when we didn't have to worry about the insane politics of our Empire. And I've just ruined that, haven't I?" Another pause, barely lasting two seconds. "Guess I got caught up in the moment. Sorry about that."

Kronos, or Cassian, whichever she preferred, began to rise to his full height, speaking as he did so. "Here. Let me make it up to you." He offered his hand to her. "I have something I want to show you."

The wind whipped against his abundance of hair and the loose bits of his clothing. The sun of Lah'mu nearly completing its set, night almost engulfing the area the couple were located in.

She grinned. 'We are Sith... Cassian. It cannot be helped; intrigue sustains us just as much as it infuriates us!'

He stood, mind you, and went to move the picnic along. He had clearly been waiting for the sun, which means Cassian had yet more plans afoot.

Esme smiled, and accepted the proffered hand, using her other to pick at the red dress so she did not trip on it. The outfit was loose fitting and while the red was closer to blood red than she would have ordinarily gone for, it was striking. Her hair was tied back for the occasion, if only due to the warm climate, but it also kept her face clear.

'So where to next, my lord?'

"Oh, you'll see," he said, grinning, as he used the hand holding hers to spin her around a single time. A mundane and rather pointless act, in hindsight, but he felt it was decidedly romantic.

A split second after that, he interlocked his left arm into her right and escorted her to his next destination, leaving the picnic blanket, with the box placed in the middle to add for supporting weight against the wind, the edges of which whipping against it, folding over the wooden box. The extra strands of her hair and her long, loose fitting blood red dress did the same.

Esmerelda was far more dressed for the occasion than he. All Kronos had done was remove his armor and cape, and give his clothing a wash - including the incredibly tattered, black undershirt he rarely removed, which was hiding something he was insecure about - but she had chosen a beautiful red dress, which stood out against the blacks, greens, and blues of Lah'mu; and especially the greys of the Imperial shuttles and stations.

The sun had mostly set by that point, only a sliver of the orange light shining upon the couple, which was illuminating the two in a wonderful, and non-blinding orange hue. They had spent what felt like hours talking to each other - which felt wonderful, mind you - but it, in reality, only amounted to half an hour at most. But it was enough time for the sun to nearly set.

Truth be told, Kronos - Cassian, as Esme was beginning to prefer - had specifically chosen this time of day. He did not want the hot sun beating down on them, making the date, as that was what this was, uncomfortable. The chill of dusk and of the night was far more soothing.

As they walked through the black sand/dirt, Kronos began thinking out loud. "Going back to the previous discussion about friends... I wasn't the most popular kid there was. Not hated, just not very popular. I only had a few actual friends of my age - Junsik, Wade, and Kira. We practically did everything together, you know? Training, missions, general tomfoolery... We were practically inseparable - especially Kira and myself. She and I were like... well, the two of us. Lovers."

He practically stared into space, not literally, but metaphorically. "But all good things must come to an end." A beat for dramatic effect. "I'm sure you can guess why."

He wanted to cry. "I just went on another tangent, didn't I? Sorry. I guess, with you, I can be more open..."

An obvious statement, in hindsight.

He remained silent through the rest of the walk.

Esmerelda noted the sun by the point Cassian brought the impromptu picnic to an end. He was still waxing melancholy. Reminiscing was important, as she needed to know these things but not if Cassian was upset by them.

Of course, he'd never admit as much. She decided to give him his silence, linking her hand in his and allowing herself to quietly enjoy that.

Esmerelda never imagined that simply walking in silence would make her so happy.

It would take a few minutes for them to reach their new destination - an old, clearly vacated home out in the middle of nowhere.

"Well, here we are."

After a while, they made it to what appeared to be an old home, but downtrodden, but apprentice empty. She broke his grasp and stepped forward. 'This looks homely.'

She looked at him quizzically.

'For us?' Esme teased slightly. 'Don't tell me; you've set up candles and petals leading to the bedroom?'

Mischievousness darted across her features

He returned her quizzical glance. "What? No. I'm not that blunt."

He paused as he contemplated the thought. "But if it's something you're interested in... I'm not opposed to it, either." He winked.

He stepped down the outdoor stairs leading to the mechanical door and, upon nearing it, pressed a button that surprisingly allowed it to slide open and let them inside. "Hm," he said, perplexed. "Surprised it worked. I thought I'd have to force it open."

He escorted her inside, Kronos having to duck due to his height, and the door instantly shut behind them, light mostly leaving the room, engulfing it in the darkness.

That would not do.

"Let there be light," he said humorously, as he used the Force to find a light source within the darkness. Again, the decades old technology surprisingly worked. Lucky them.

What Esmerelda would find was not countless candles and rose petals leading to the bedroom in an over the top romantic gesture to lead to passionate lovemaking. Instead, she would see instead a home mostly untouched by outside forces, furniture old and primarily brown, nothing too expensive or eye catching, the living room and kitchen basically being in the same location - and, if she was truly interested (Kronos/Cassian had noticed her mischievous grin when she mentioned it), the adult bedroom located in a more private area, built for two, and the sheets unmade. In face, nearly everything was unmade and unorganized. Clearly, whoever lived here left in a hurry.

A couple of family photos were left on a shelf above a blank wall. An old and haggard man, featuring gruff facial hair and unkempt head hair; a woman, shorter in height compared to her husband, younger in appearance, and dark hair that is shorter than the hair of most women; and, finally, a little girl, both as a newborn, and older (five years?). One had been taken in a dark, cold, clearly uncomfortable room. The other, the one with the newborn daughter being older, was taken on Lah'mu.

Esmerelda would not know who these people were - she was an expert on Sith history, not Imperial and Rebel history - or why Kronos, or Cassian, Esmerelda growing to be more comfortable with the latter, had brought her here. But, since his parents were such fans, he would know this to be the remote home of the Erso family, after they had fled Coruscant to escape the Galactic Empire, specifically Orson Krennic, to live the quiet life. Away from the drama of the endless conflict throughout the Galaxy.

Truth be told, Kronos had given considerable thought to mimicking their actions. The Jedi and Sith had brought on such hardships in his life, and, as such, he was not able to live a normal life with someone he cared for. Someone he loved. It was always through a perilous mission when he was able to spend time with them. Always worried about their safety. Never able to live normally.

But here, alone, with her, and temporarily free from the hardships, drama, perilousness, and stress of the Sith Empire, he felt like they were a normal couple.

But that positive thought slowly turned back into pessimism. If he were to leave with her, just like that, there would be consequences. Kronos had a high rank within their Empire, meaning he could not just run away in the middle of the night without expecting to be found. And, given his star crossed love for Esme, they were more than likely to murder her than him.

If that happened, he could never live with himself.

Interrupting the silence, Kronos summarized his thoughts. "The home of the Erso family. They had fled from Coruscant, from the Galactic Empire, to this very planet, to live a simple life. Away from the drama of conflict. Alone. Nothing but the three of them," Kronos had let that thought sink in, definitely implying they could do the same, sometime. But he never elaborated on it. "But that's history. What matters is the here and now...."

Nighttime had fully engulfed the planet, the only source of light outside being the large, bright, and beautiful full moon, illuminating certain areas in a moon white, contrasting against the black of the ground and sky. Inside, the simple, common bulb of light was the only source there was, which was clearly worn after the years, creating a subtle ambiance he liked. It was romantic to him.

And Kronos' impulses got the better of him.

He had quickly turned to tightly hug her and engage in a passionate kiss. It would completely catch her off guard. Furthermore, there was something far more sensual about this hug. Kronos' hands had gently traveled around the back of her body before coming to a halt on her lower back. Maybe she would appreciate it. Maybe she wouldn't. In the end, deciding to break off the hug and kiss was her own.

But, in that moment, he had blurted out three words. Words that he had never actually said aloud to her, but ones she could rightfully assume he felt. Words he had only spoken to one other woman before. Words he most definitely meant with all of his heart.

"I love you."

It was a hovel, in many ways, but she could tell it had love. The surname Erso rang a bell, but not an immediate one - like all Sith, she had a brief sitrep of galactic history in this alternate timeline to pick through, though Insipid periodically added information which was newly discovered as different.

Trying to riddle where she had read about an Erso as she wandered the rooms, uprighting things and coming back to Cassian, Esmerelda found herself both caught off guard and suddenly happy, like someone had slapped her something that in the immediate hindsight smelled quite sweet. No, that was not quite the right metaphor, but Esmerelda could not fathom how she felt in a logical manner save for to open her mouth.

'I love you too, Kronos.'

Oops, Esme realised, but all she could do was giggle, and then launch herself forward to kiss him. It was just as much a kiss of passion as it was of trust as it was of acceptance as it was of surprise as it was of simple, incredible, touching, terrifying, immense, and immeasurably intimate and small as the word itself.

Love.

She had no idea whether her sudden leap forward would bowel him over, she did not see whether it would propel him towards the bedroom, or whether it would result in her being swept off her feet and held close.

It was just love.

Her love was palpable.

It would have been even if she didn't verbally state such, which was appreciated, though.

She had shown it, too. She had giggled in delight and leapt into the kiss, embracing the hug, her leap nearly causing him to fall over and collapse onto the floor, but saving them at the last minute.

This kiss was far more passionate than the first, that was for sure.

More sensual.

Especially because her leap caused the couple to be pushed closer towards the bedroom.

He wasn't about to argue.

Instead, he pulled her closer and brought her into the bedroom, pulling her on top of him as they collapsed onto the bed itself.

There was a moment of truth between here and there, between love and lust, between the past and the future.

Esmerelda did not even pause for briefest of moments. She knew what she wanted; who she wanted. Forever more.

Esmerelda allowed herself to be taken, in more ways than one. The warmth of his breath, the fire of his skin upon hers, the brush of his stubble; the moment was theirs.

And so the moment continued.

TAG: Sinrebirth

 

Temple of Izax the Devourer

Who were these who caused these stirrings? Irreverent intruders? Foolish thieves looking for treasure? Lost souls searching for release? Before Izax, all is tribute.

A single worthy tribute was made, and so, in accordance to ancients, it shall be.

The Lorekeeper’s fate was unknown as he was lost, swallowed by a pit, engulfed in abyssal darkness.

The darkside pulsed in response.

Faint and distant echoes of Aivela and Esne wafted like discordant scents, fading in and out of perception. Ethereal and evanescent.

More Tribute…

The two armed men guarding the side entrance to the temple would feel a curious trembling from the stone under their feet, but they would not have much time to give it thought. Large stone slabs would suddenly rise up from the ground all about them, at all sides- encasing them in a stone box several times their height. The prison wrought would be incredibly resistant to abrasion, but that fact would likely be lost to them.

From under their feet, vines began to creep up, through the stone, moving with ease. They would seek to wrap themselves around them in order to restrain their movements. Spore pods would open and spray them copiously.

It would be a wonder if they were even aware of the skittering sound that came from above them as a shadow fell on their forms, or the chuckles of amusement issuing from the grinning simulacrum perched not too far off- delighting in their screams.

There was no doubt that the woman the lifeless metal one called Mistress Bellorum would feel it.

But what of the others?

Yes. Too long, but now…it is nigh.

Tag: Lady Belligerent, E. L.Knight, dragonsith13,Jar-Jar Binks

 

Kael & Yavessk
Transport R457 ~ Departing the Revelator ~ En route Luxury Elite

The hiss of the ramp closing followed by a reverberating shudder as the ramp closed and locked into place, echoed through the rustic freighter as Draconis sat down in the cockpit. Toggling the ignition after priming the engines. A scan of systems on the crude display showed all green as the preflight checks had been done by the hanger crew, still he ran through them verifying various systems. The transport had made its way up off the landing deck of the hanger and was proceeding towards the atmospheric field at the hangers’ main entrance taxiing and preparing to exit the destroyer. The transport pierced the hanger veil as the engines were throttled up, bringing the shuttle quickly away from the destroyer. The coordinated in the NAV computer had already been programed and set, a quick verification on a star chart from Draconis and he was satisfied with their jump preparations.

The ship slowed for the briefest of moments as the main engines were drained of power, a response the sublight engines taking over and powering up as they flashed and glowed with a brilliance of power. The freighter lurched and was gone in an instant, making the jump into hyperspace. Their jump times were staggered to coordinate an equally staggered arrival time to blend in with various ships arriving and departing the “Luxury Elite”.

Satisfied they were underway Draconis leaned back ever so slightly for a moment, clasping a datapad in his hand which he began typing into. A pre-arrival message to the group, which was necessary.

Kael knew he had questions, it had barely been 48 hours since he had strapped the now apprentice to a table and tortured him unrelentingly.

While he typed and began laying out the mission’s preparations, his ears were open to his new apprentice’s inquiries, they would be in transit for some time. Re-supply, preparations, rest, and even training being on the table. Kael sat typing away, a second datpad now next to him with schematics and data feeds uploading information on the “Luxury Elite”. Known information on Moff Tyrral Noscondra, Lieutenant Governor Grandol Sinan, Governor Tarin Soro , Director Zark Lavar, Captain Strata Keler, and Moff Wyla Kase…. their targets. Pictures, readouts, background. Kael glance and selected a uplink on Moff Wyla Kase, supposedly she liked Correllian ponies at a young age… ironic for a ruthless Moff… He focused for moment on the tidbit of information and returned to his briefing perpetrations.

His ability to focus seldom swayed, Grievance Vexx--to be identified now as Yavessk Kwyntehst--is finding himself hard-pressed to keep his flighty thoughts grounded. It is not a problem he takes lightly either. In fact, he is rather annoyed. He wouldn't be struggling now if the company he currently keeps had left him alone. Of course, he probably would have gotten himself killed had Draconis--no, "Kael Nord"--not interfered. His anger is tempered by an odd sense of gratitude, but still...perhaps his original goals might have been achieved if he had been allowed to pursue Alva to the death.

Barely mindful of the vessel being put through its paces, the cyborg is refreshing himself on what little information he is supposed to exist under with his new identity in place. His medical droid had made the necessary adjustments to his appearance so he wouldn't stand out as being so beastly among what he presumes will be a squeamish crowd. Bisecting gauntlets gleaming with gold accents hide his skeletal hands and run halfway up his arms, matching the greaves now attached to his legs and his shoulder plates have been replaced by similarly gilded material. The wrist communicator has also been embedded in the cortosis-infused gauntlets. He is still ill-tempered from having to listen to a lecture in proper etiquette from his droid during the begrudgingly-received upgrades. In that time, he had also been reflecting on the past two days, centered mostly on the confrontation within the cargo hold.

He willfully relives it all, pulling it apart and analyzing it in his mind; the feeling of helplessness, the physical and mental agony, the terror. Then there was that turning point that had brought all of it to a screeching halt. That feeling of dominating power that had risen up from somewhere in the darkest recesses of his soul. It still doesn't make much sense to him, but he finds himself reflecting on the moment when his now master had drawn him back to the place of his torture and left him with a single question: "Is this a place of pain for you...or of power?"

He knows the answer. He knows the truthful one and the one that must be claimed if he is to proceed and survive. Pain is an element to life that he is more familiar with than most. He has never shied away from the places of memory though; never feared them. Yet that room had stabbed him with the unwanted feeling when he was returned there and left to think. Now, at this time, he waits until the vessel has evened out in its transit before he turns his eyes to look at the dark figure who is now his master.

"You had asked me earlier if the place where you held me captive was a place of pain or of power," he begins, his voice calm yet bold as he does not waver from the brutal honesty that is bred into him, "It was both. You put me through hell there and I cannot lie to myself or to you for the sake of personal pride or any other reason. But I also experienced a power I have never felt before. There was a part of me that wanted to obliterate you from the galaxy and for an instant I felt as though I really could. It was a fearsome thing, yet thrilling. I wanted it to end and yet I wanted to hold onto it. I do not understand this addictive quality or what it means. Is it a common phenomenon among those experiencing their own, uh...gift...for the first time?"

He has many other questions revolving around this mission, the holocron, his purpose in the grand scheme of things, what is now expected of him as an apprentice; but he holds back, having mentally prioritized all of these things and finding it necessary to start at the beginning of his entanglement in this Sith business. His golden eyes lock onto Draconis, now identified as Kael, not to implore or to beg, but actively searching for understanding.

Draconis takes a moment of pause for the moment of realization which he knew was coming from his apprentice, a tugof satisfaction at the corner of his mouth, knowing he is being drawn in further. Draconis’ focus does not stray as he continues to type into the datapad for the upcoming arrival and mission, as he casually begins to speak and address the apprentice’s attempt at understanding what happen to him further.


“The more pertinent question would be, are you willing to ensure this was not the last time? Judging your perceived understanding of your potential gifts and power based upon this one event would not serve you well at all.”

Draconis continued his inputs into the datapad pausing for a moment.

“I understand your desire to gauge oneself…”

“Validation.”

“To answer your question; Did you do well? “

“Yes. The desired outcome was achieved.”

“But does this truly satisfy you?”

Draconis continued with the datapad, swiping and arranging selections, while inputting and making addendums. The fast-moving stars outside the cockpit, and blue spiraling tunnel of hyperspace in the backdrop.

“Consider this apprentice as we near our arrival, something to contemplate at the appropriate times during the mission.”

Draconis place the datapad down beside him on a cockpit display. The holocron presented to him to safeguard by The Night Herald left security of his apprentice’s care and floated safely into Draconis palm. The holocron was pulsating with power, which he could feel. But this was a demonstration and lesson not anything else.

“It is items like this… an artifact, weapon, places, even being’s themselves that so many spend their lives searching for across the stars, coveting them.”

Draconis rotated the holocron with the force in front of him slowly floating it back to his apprentice for him to return it to safe keeping.

“Make no mistake apprentice these artifacts hold great power, knowledge, and teachings. Great opportunity, and they should be pursued. As you will need them along your journey.”

“But they are only that “an opportunity”….”

“The truest and most powerful font of power is always from within. Always manifest from within ourselves… very few ever realize it, nor develop the patience or insight to tap into such. We are all conduits for the Force, our realization of this and ability to effectively bend it to our desire and purpose depends on our will, insight, and resolve.”

“You already learned the lesson that cannot be taught. Your ability to build upon this lesson is up to you… The question is, are you willing to go there again?”

Draconis picked the datapad back up, after noting on one of the cockpit displays that they were still several hours out from arriving at the nav point and dropping out of hyperspace. Rising up and making his way past his apprentice, Draconis made his way to what could be considers on of the sleeping quarters for needed meditation, preparations, and potential rest. Leaving his apprentice to think on things, perhaps rest himself, or man the ship for the time being.

Swallowing a growl as Draconis answers his question with a dozen other questions, Grievance isn't surprised. The dark one has yet to truly give him a straight answer, preferring instead to take advantage of his introspective intelligence. Not that the Kaleesh minds the challenge. He welcomes it, but his frustration comes from being so interested in a subject he knows nothing about and having no clue where to start. He also does not like navigating uncharted waters so to speak; blindly trying to figure out this Force power with very little to go on. For him, it is like being sent to war with blinded eyes and bound limbs.

"I do not seek validation so much as I seek direction," he replies, his tone diplomatic despite his frustration, "Given what I am now pitted against, if I am to survive and triumph, I must learn to fight on a new level. It cannot be the last time; only the first. I know this. The bitter taste of defeat is still with me and I will be cursed to hell if I suffer that again. I am now up against two young and arrogant Force-wielders and I have something they both want. I do not like either one of them and for that reason alone, I will not let them have their prize. I would rather rot."

His blood boils as he relives his helplessness against the Force-enhanced beating Alva had given him and the scorn that had emanated toward him from the young politician when he had entered that meeting room. Perhaps he deserved what he had gotten from Alva; the young Sith had attacked him in self-defense. He can swallow that, but a battle-hardened Kaleesh such as he cannot help but choke on the humiliating defeat. He must redeem his honor. As for Graul, that whelp had displayed hatred for him without cause. An eye for an eye, the feeling is now mutual. If the politician wants to be hostile, Grievance Vexx--Yavessk Kwyntehst--will give him a fine and dandy reason to be hostile; make him drink the bitter dregs of his own scorn. His thoughts are drawn away as Draconis uses the Force to take the holocron from him. Though not inherently alarmed, he is clearly not comfortable with it. The simple tap into the Force has triggered the ringing in his ears and, by extension, his annoyance.

"I could have just handed it to you," he grumbles begrudgingly, narrowing his eyes and rubbing at his "ear" as the problematic sound continues until his master returns the holocron, Grievance closing his clawed hand around it as Draconis further explains the value of such items. "That is why those two want it so badly. It would give me great pleasure to obtain its secrets for myself and leave the empty shell for them to fight over."

The low rumble of a cruel chuckle is barely audible, but it is there; self-satisfaction at the very idea of setting the Night Herald's apprentices up for massive disappointment. He would sooner pull this off than he would kill them. As the dark one moves away from the control panel to a more passive location on the vessel, the Kaleesh warrior's eyes drift momentarily to the controls. For a fleeting moment, he thinks about how easy it would be to hijack this tin can and set course for Kalee.

If Draconis weren't a Sith Lord.

He mutters a curse word in Kaleesh as he realizes he must lay aside every hope he's ever had of returning home. Not permanently, but for now. Longing for his homeworld will only serve to distract him and his laser focus is required now more than ever if he is to redeem his honor and put those two annoying apprentices of the Night Herald in their place.

"Go where again, m'lord?" he inquires as Draconis asks if he is prepared to revisit the experience in order to continue sharpening it, "The mental state of agony and terror? Why not? Doubtless, now that you have called them to the surface again, these memories will haunt my quietest moments whether I want them to or not. Might as well use them to my advantage, yes?"

Deep regulated breathing brought focus, insight, and determination. The room was oppressive as a dark cloud hung casting an eerie shadow where one should not be. They were close, his eyes opened… a black midnight sheen glazed over them as a final moment of meditation was sought.
The crates loaded pre-mission offered a variety of garb and accessories, a selection of impeccable quality, as one was selected for the arrival and show of theatrics. Sleek, form fitting and slender, black, and crafted from some of the finest threads in the galaxy. Befitting a patron of standing. Finished dressing and running his hands over his head front to back as he tilted his head back drawing in a breath, savoring the moment and feeling of what was the precursor to upcoming events.
Gathered and prepared. Dress accordingly, Draconis stepped out of the small cargo hold which had been home for a brief few hours, and made his way to the cockpit.
The cockpit was as it was when he left it, his apprentice having recused himself within the ship. It was expected Vexx- Yavessk would be prepared.
Draconis knew that his answering of questions with questions was driving his apprentice mad, his incessant nature to never reveal things fully and pull the answers out like drawing poison from a wound, slowly extracting it in an excruciating manner was disheartening in the least and maddening to most.

Settling into the co-pilots seat, Kael toggled the sounding beeping console alarm that was signaling their proximity and near arrival at their NAV point. The drop out of hyperspace was moments away…

Kael felt Yavessk’s presence and began speaking without making eye contact or as so much acknowledging physically that he was aware of his presence, he just knew. As he seemingly picked up on the previous conversation as though no time had lapsed.

“Direction you will have.” Kael’s tone was calm but direct. “Take one lesson at a time, one moment at a time and seize it for all its worth.”

Kael was offering an insight few were privy to, the unending questions stopped and clear direction was put forth. Perhaps refreshing to the young Sith..

“Break the two apprentices, draw them in and exhaust them... make them expend all their will pursuing this coveted artifact…”Draconis spoke eluding to the holocron. “then kill them both. OR make them kill each other in the process.” Kael side steps much of his apprentice’s ruminations on the matter but still goes straight to the point, as the focus is to be on the apprentice’s end game and not his apprentice’s feelings on the matter, which is their destruction and his ascension above them.
The transport dropped out of hyperspace, as the “Luxury Elite” came up fast in the forward cockpit viewport. Draconis leaned forward toggling the voice comm, dialing into the receiving transponder of the massive starship.

“Luxury Elite this is transport, Romeo Fortune. Requesting docking, transmitting transponder and reservation now.”

Kael turns slightly to the side, back towards the apprentice, referring to his final questions from before. “Go where again….”Which was the apprentice’s previous inquiry.

“Go wherever you must, delve wherever you need to.”Kael’s tone was darker evermore, it was a question that only an individual could answer. “Where that is? Only you can discover.” Kael knew it was ambiguous, but this again was not a lesson that could be taught. The discovery of what drove oneself could only be found by the individual. Anyone could be taught technique, skill, and routine, but if there is no passion, determination, or will behind it. Then it is an empty vessel. The insinuation that he should use what he cited, the pain, agony, terror even to sharpen himself, but also draw in anything and everything else which with he can to further his internal fire.

Indeed, Draconis's method is frustrating, but understood by his apprentice. Self-sufficient and proud to be so, Grievance would rather figure things out on his own with a clear mission set in front of him. As long as the objective is clear, he can adapt and achieve. The only reason he had failed in the confrontation with Alva had been because of his self-imposed lack of defense against the Force. That will not happen again and with that in mind, he is determined to learn. Needless to say his full attention is engaged--though not without puzzlement--as Kael picks up as though there has been no passage of time between dialog exchanged. The cyborg clenches his eyes shut briefly in frustration as all of these curious occurrences tug at his focus. He gives a single resolute nod of understanding to his master's small bit of instruction on taking things in stride. Refreshing indeed. He now has a clear mission set before him and there is more to it.

As Kael goes on to advise Yavessk on how to best deal with Alva and Graul, the Kaleesh warrior becomes more at ease. This appeals to his comfort zone in the familiarity of strategizing; choreographing the demise of those who would destroy him; drawing them into his game where they will play by his rules. He would show them that there is an art to navigating one's way through war and he is a force to be reckoned with--or at least, he will be once he learns how to fight and defend himself on a higher level than what he currently knows.

"It shall be done," he agrees with an inclination of his head, "But I am curious. What is the Night Herald's intent in all of this? And upon the destruction of both of his apprentices, will there be repercussions to deal with?"

There is no fear to be detected in his voice, thoughts, or body language as he brings up the involvement of Darth Haretisch. Clearly, his question is not fear-based at all. Rather, he is seeking to prepare accordingly for whatever results could arise from his diabolical actions. He respects the Night Herald and the position he holds, but if he did not fear the man who had mercilessly tortured and maimed him years ago, he does not fear Haretisch anymore than he does Draconis.

His yellow eyes flick to the viewport as their destination appears before them. The mere sight of the Luxury Elite turns the Kaleesh warrior's stomach and boils his blood. Elite--"izvoshra" in his own tongue--a word abused by the dimwit who had the gall to use the it in conjunction with "Luxury". "Romeo Fortune" doesn't appeal to his taste either, but he does not voice his disdain, keeping his thoughts simply that: thoughts. His focus returns to his master as he becomes elusive again. He cannot say he fully understands what he must do. Surely wandering aimlessly through the pain of his past is not the answer. There has to be more he must do; it just can't be that simple.

But what if it is? What if he is over-complicating this?

He growls softly, resolving in his mind that he will have to figure this out by trial and error. Not his favorite way to approach a situation, but what choice does he have? He watches the viewport calmly as they prepare to dock on the Luxury Elite, sorting through things in his mind. There is no doubt that Draconis has implied reliving painful experiences will aid him in his quest. As the saying goes, what doesn't kill one makes one stronger. He knows it's the truth. He also knows there are things that lie in his past that he must revisit anyway. There are questions that must be answered if only for the sake of closure in his own life. He only has one more question for his master.

"When this mission is finished and when my time has been served," he begins slowly, "Will there still be a purpose for me within the Empire? I only ask because I am trying to comprehend the structure of the Sith order. If I prove my worth--which I will with no other option but death--is there a future purpose for me?"
The buzz of the communicator came to life. The voice of a docking office replying to Kael’s broadcast of their arrival. The docking office had a bit of a draw with a sultry inviting tone to her voice as she responded. Even the presentation of such personnel was tailored to sucking in the mind of those who arrived. Preparing you for the pleasure and hedonism inside the ship’s hull that awaited.

“Romeo Fortune this is Luxury Elite Docking Control.” Kael smirks slightly at the mentioning of the name of the transport, a bit pompous, but necessary as it was all part of the act.

“Your reservation is confirmed along with ship transponder.”

“You may proceed to docking bay 3, pad 26 for landing.”

“Have a pleasurable stay, and may all your endeavors be “Elite!”.”

It was almost as if you could see the woman behind the communicator winking and batting her eyes. , brought the ship down across the bow of the ship and under its massive hull to one of the many hanger entrances, specifically the one designated for their arrival. Flipping a control as the ship was on auto-pilot now and on the verge of being grasped in the massive ships tractor beams to guide it into a safe landing.

“His intent is to produce the strongest tool out of his available apprentices.”

Kael was making his way to the area of the transport where the landing ramp was, preparing to exit as the craft could be felt moving into a landing procedure.
“If you kill them both, he will respect you. As you will have done him a favor of culling the herd without him having to.”

A somewhat ornate crate was prepared and ready for offloading next to Kael as he stood waiting for the craft to secure its landing. Kael took the opportunity to address the concerns of the apprentice while they waited momentarily. The sound of the hull panels opening and landing gear retracting signaled their imminent landing.

“The holocron will pass back to its master then, as if nothing had happened."

The transport rocked slightly as the transport came in contact with the hanger floor, the landing ramp began to open with the transport being on the hanger floor. The glint of the bright hanger lights shinning in through the opening cracks, the hiss of ramp struts pushing open.

“This is a discussion for another time, apprentice. Prove your worth and destroy all who oppose you in your goals.”

It was not a question easily answered, the Sith, the darkside, or whatever incantation they inhabited was never permanent. Empires fell, passed on, were rebuilt and raised from ashes all the time. Status was earned, this was true. But so much of status was in the eye of the beholder. The apprentice was in danger of falling into the trap of validation and status within an order and Empire of those who have no loyalties, have no friends, and have only one goal… that of power. In so many forms, whatever it was it was power and control… everything could be traced back to such. “But remember this truly, “status” as it is… is never secure.” He hoped his final words conveyed such as he proceeded down the ramp and into the hanger.


The had arrived.

Kaleesh-Cyborg, Darth_wanderguard, QueenSabe7, HanSolo29, Isley_27

 

Darth Hades
Temple of Izax

Hades had become lost in thought. He had felt the pulsing darkness of this Temple and then something even more sinister grew in presence. He could feel the ancient power as a subtle wind breezing through the passages. It was barely a flicker within the Force. This being knew how to manipulate the Force as if it understood it more intimately than anyone before.​

​

Hades had tuned everyone and everything else out. He was concentrating on the darkness, on the movements in the air, vibrations in the stone. The Jungles had taught him much, and he had understood early on that movement, sound, vibrations, they moved in a ripple effect, carrying through everything. He thought back to when he desperately wanted approval from those around him and when he didn't get it, he left seeking other ways. The darkness was the only way. True power resided in Mastering the Force and dominating it with your will. That is what this presence felt like. Powerful enough to dominate one's will with a mere thought.​

​

Finis's radio crackled once and then went silent. He touched the communicator and send a pulse tone to get the attention of his men, but there was no response. "Comms are dead. No response from my men." Finis announced. He tried hailing the outside teams as well and still got no response.​

​

Morrigan moved closer to Hades and nervously twirled her weapon once. She was so far from her comfort zone, yet her Father had trained her to be as fierce as any other Echani. She needed only to prove it. She wanted to impress Hades and his comrades and prove she was worth is saving her. If she proved a failure...well she had seen what could happen to women who the empire found no real use for....​

​

Hades looked to Bellorum. And then he felt the hunger.

Lady Bellorum was currently yelling at them and he could feel her anger like a fiery furnace. He stepped close and whispered. "Whatever it is, it is responding to us. Perhaps we should try to keep from disturbing it until we are sure we can handle it."

He was moving with caution and wanted to ensure she did not decide HE had lost his usefulness. Something about this place was drawing his attention to everything but the team and the mission. He felt distracted by the darkness through the Force and he did not know why.​

​

TAG: Lady Belligerent, dragonsith13, Mikaboshi, Jar-Jar Binks

 

IC: Events Manager Adom Delgas - Executive Offices, Luxury Elite, in Orbit

This was bad. Not just bad. It was the worst. With every step Adom Delgas took toward Master Cesar Ignancio's office, his hands seemed to shake more uncontrollably.

The fight had been lined up for months now already - a showdown between the consensus two best bare knuckle pit fighters in the entire unknown regions. The event had sold out within hours, over 10,000 tickets purchased. A trio of hotel ships had been lined up in advance to house all of the additional guests. Half a dozen holonetworks would be present to broadcast the fight - potentially to millions throughout the unknown regions. It was going to put the Luxury Elite on the map.

And now, a mere two months from fight night? Both of the featured athletes were dead - each having shot themselves a half dozen times through the back in apparent matching suicides.

They couldn't cancel the event. Not now. But... there was another option. A way to possibly salvage this disaster of a situation. If Master Ignancio would hear it.

Adom closed his eyes for a moment outside of Ignancio's office door, and steadied his breath before touching the intercom.

"Master Ignancio... I have urgent news."

TAG: E. L.Knight

 

Darth Osnil

General Barett was an interesting case. To Osnil, he seemed like a smart man. "That'sa just what da wesa needs," he thought to himself. Apparently, they were going to capture a place, then run. Simple enough. Barrett assigned them numbers. He was number six. He would remember this.

As for their task, it would be to prepare a shuttle. If he was just one number off, he wouldn't have to work with Cocytus again. He hated that Kaminoan; and he hated very few people. Cocytus had blatant disregard for other lives aside his own. They were to board a ship with it apparently; and Three was in command, so it was the person named "Titus."

Osnil nodded, aside from a brief sigh after being assigned with Cocytus again. He was going to perform his duty to the Order to the last. He waited patiently for further instructions.
TAG: Sinrebirth Darth Cocytus Darth Master Titus and anyone else I missed

 

IC: Reiis Invadator
Csilla

Reiis was about to speak, but her thoughts were interrupted when the Force issued a jolt of alarm. Instinctively, she spun around to face the troops, reaching for the Darksaber as K-7 tossed it to her. It landed neatly in her palm, the inky blade springing to life with the soft pressure of her fingertips.

Pivot. Crouch. Leap.

She tightened her grip and sprang toward the soldiers, unexpectedly fast and far due to the new prosthetic legs. The thrill of fighting once again and her new physical power unleashed a rush of adrenaline, and at that moment Reiis hardly missed the limbs she had lost. The benefits had been largely unanticipated. Yes, there was still pain and, yes, she had learned some of the benefits of durasteel limbs when she lost her arm the first time, but through the depression, pain, and demoralization of the mutilation, Reiis had been unable to see the gains outside the losses. Well, until now, that was.

Her first swipe went to the closest soldier's weapon, but she didn't stay there for long. There was little hope for dodging a spray of metal, but Reiis was fairly confident the blasts wouldn't kill her through the armorweave cloak as she darted between the soldiers. Another set of swings, a pivot, and a kick. She reached out for their weapons through the Force, sending the command to crush and rip them away from their wielders' hands. Her metal wrist twisted to aim the Darksaber at the neck of one of the insurgents, but instead of stopping where a normal wrist would, it completed a full rotation and sliced into the ground beneath it. Why stop it now? Reiis set both wrist and Darksaber to spin at humanly impossible speeds as she cut through what was left of the soldiers.

It was a raging bloodfest, and Reiis was loving every second of it.

TAG: Halle Dray Sinrebirth

 

Kael
Luxury Elite ~ Chambers

Many would see the manner in which Kael had left Yavessk would normally be seen as derogatory and condescending, but here on this ship it was a normal occurrence as patrons, dignitaries, Counts, Countesses, and all manner of pleasure seekers came and went. Servants and slaves were always left carrying the luggage and so Yavessk was too, figuratively. Though much of the arrival process was automated as several non-critical crates were offloaded by the in-house staff. The critical and more important items were to be toted by Yavessk, which Kael expected to be delivered to his quarters before his ward recuse himself to his own nearby quarters. It was all part of the act.

And so, they were…

The starscape through the large viewport of the room foreshadowed Kael sitting at a clear desk within the room facing it. A glass of amber liquid within arm’s reach next to him as a display built into the desk offered general information and browsing capabilities, though no one would be so daft as to use the Luxury Elite’s own systems to conduct busines.

The almost transparent datapad brought up the previous briefing data after the devices encryption was authenticated by his retina scan.

The details of the targets once again up. Moff Tyrral Noscondr, Lieutenant Governor Grandol Sinan. Governor Tarin Soro, Director Zark Lavar, Captain Strata Keler, and Moff Wyla Kase. Kael closing the file on them. Bringing up another file, which brought forth more information, skeptics, routing, and a more generic personal detail of a ship. Details on the “Luxury Elite” which Kael was looking over intently.

Kael, toggled a tab on the datapad which opened one of the crates in his room, a panel opening with a quick hiss. Exposing a sterile compartment with three small oval shaped black devices. With a tap of the datapad, a red light on each of them lit up, signifying an activation of sorts. As the three small, smooth oval devices came to life, each no bigger than the width of a hand. They each levitated and seemed to track and orient themselves before landing and sprouting several legs which cushioned their landing on the crate. A second tab of the datapad and the trio of probes went off in their own directions disappearing into the corners of the room, two of them exiting the room entirely. Both of them exiting through a vent and silently clamoring down the ventilation spurred by a directive of reconnaissance and infiltration programmed in them specifically for this mission….

Everyone was settling in; the transports having arrived. Indiscriminately in their offset intervals.

Draconis stood up satisfied with the preparations, he felt Yavessk’s nervous over analyzing of the situation permeating through the ship’s hull. It was pushed out of his mind as the apprentice was more than capable, and would in time find his purpose.

Draconis circled one of the crates brought on board, tracing along the edge of the crate until they came to stop on a keypad on its centerline. Kael’s hand biometrically activating it. With the top of the crate opened, a mist bellowing out from it, following the lines and edges of the sleek smooth crate down to the floor and outward.
Kael thought to himself. The treasures of this universe that few knew and ventured to understand… Kael lifted and place a glowing partially fractured vase out of the cart. One could easily have levitated such an object out of its holding, but one needed to feel the texture of such an artifact. Feel it pulsating in ones hands, the energy of centuries. It was a priceless artifact. If the Lorekeeper were present he surely would be salivating at its sight and truly horrified with what Kael intended to do with it.
The room purchased was luxurious, not nearly the most extravagant of the Luxury Elite’s but spare no expense by the Empire of the Hand’s account. The wide viewport of the starscape was a dark contract to the room. Kael placed the vase down on the floor, a meditation pad near the viewport. Kael stared out into the space for a moment his black eyes glazing over briefly with a notable change to them. His chin raised seemingly following some unheard melody or current around him. The patched crack in the vase buckled and fractured further, for an instant the vase was in a state of suspended animation before the entire vase shook and buckle, imploding and cracking. The glowing aura seemed to disappear and fade from it for a moment, replaced by a smoldering red glare from within and underneath the cracked and crumbled vase pieces… a red mist snaking its way out into the room.

Kael breathed in again, centered, and focused. The mist was flowing out, unnaturally bellowing out more than one would think was in such a small container. So much that it was beginning to cloud the room, as Kael remained staring out the viewport.

Kael brought his hands up after having unclasped a thick black belt about his waist, sliding them underneath the seams of the robe across his chest and then up to the top of his robes pulling them off of his shoulders and letting the robe drop to the floor.

The red mist was already beginning to snake and wrap around him, as he felt a sharp pain, which was followed by another, and still another. The tendrils of red mist and energy raked against his exposed body, one of the tendrils wrapping tightly around his arm and instantly showing signs of a searing hot pain. Kael held firm, as the wrapped further around his body. An unnatural voice bellowed from his lips as a forgotten tongue was uttered. A raspy near undecipherable chant.

Kael’s body lurched, his shoulders pressed back and hips moved forward, back arched as he levitated off the floor. Then slowly as if being lowered into a bed of clouds he fell backwards into the mist disappearing, falling on top of where the broken vase previously lay.

The room seemed to distort slightly as the cloud of red mist throughout began to flow back towards its origin, that of the vase. A distinct swirl like a large galaxy or storm slowly rotating and collapsing upon itself. Kael was still mired in cloud and not fully visible underneath it all, but the grimaces and grunts that emanated from within the red cloud were that of a being in control but undergoing a torturous and vile undertaking. A loud audible crack was heard, a bone being snapped like a twig. Followed by a scream that was begging to be unleashed but controlled as best it could. Another snap and a limb protruded out of the dark red mist that was collapsing still. The limb was clearly a leg, but bent in an unnatural way, as it visible signs of trembling could be seen as it shook and slowly fell back into the mist. Another crack and an arm protruded rising straight up and through the dark red mist the fingers and thumb of the hand crooked and unnaturally bent in extreme angles. A crack and snap, and a corresponding finger snapped into place. Then another, and another... each crack reverberating through the chamber which was oozing dark energy. Finally, until each finger on the hand seemed to be properly put into place. The hand trembling sank back into the dark cloud now close to the floor level as it slowly swirled about.
For a finally minute the cloud swirled with it finally disputing and evaporating into the air. The chamber returned to its previous state. The hum of the Luxury Elite’s engines returned, the starlit viewport, and the calm of a chamber all normal again.

Kael was naked and motionless on the floor, a slight shiver and shake evident which stopped replaced by a realization that he had returned to the present. The Sith Lord was never wanting for features and physical prowess… but this was different.

Glamourous and smooth.

No one had seen his profile as his registry was already being updated, for no one would be the wiser.

Kael’s hand came up to his face running his fingers across it…

It had been a first for such a ritual…

And it took little for him to realize that it had been a success.

Draconis slowly placed a hand on the floor, followed by a forearm and a leg rising as he slowly stood up.

To his feet and slowly pacing across the chamber. The haze of the ritual wearing off.

Coming up to a mirror, Draconis stared at it. A full view of what he had produced.

Draconis spoke in a hushed sinister tone.


“Hello Kael.”



TAG: Noone

 

Yavenssk
Luxury Elite - Public Areas

Draconis may or may not know that his cyborg apprentice's question had not been without an ulterior motive. Status means nothing to Grievance and it's not likely that it ever will. Quite frankly, he doesn't give a reek's backside what others think of him. He just has an intense desire to deliver retribution for being hated without cause. His question of purpose had been a probing one, trying to figure out if his binding to this Empire is permanent. He still wants his freedom more than anything and his loyalty, though not pledged lightly by any means, is only to the one he views as his master now. The rest of this bunch making up the powers to be within the Empire? He has no reason to pledge his loyalty to them. He would just as soon kill them all and let the Force sort them out.

In the here and now, "Yavessk" is not without indignation over these arrangements. He resents being viewed and treated as inferior, worthy only to operate as transportation for baggage. He tries not to take it personally; he is normally not a petty creature, but this only serves to burn him with the reminder that his people--for whatever reason--are viewed and treated as slaves outside of Kalee. He swallows the anger that slowly boils his blood as he is reminded of his days as a youngling, serving as a slave to that insect race; being beaten frequently for little more than blinking at an inopportune time. At least in his current state, he can never be effectively beaten again, with a cruel lash tearing the flesh from his body. He has no flesh left to tear at and what he does have is encased in armor that can withstand blaster bolts.

Heavily cloaked to hide his cybernetic body, his medic had done a remarkable job disguising his form. Aside from the greaves and gauntlets, he looks like a fairly normal sentient being simply wearing a mask, though even that is obscured by a cowl and a scarf wrapped over his face. He almost feels like a real Kaleesh again, though his look is less tribal than he would prefer, his medical droid having warned him that looking too primitive would draw unwanted attention. The ill-tempered cyborg had resentfully cooperated and fortunately (for the droid), his new identity had been met with approval.

It would have been easier to employ the use of his four arms, but Yavessk is mindful of the uneasiness his abilities can create. Part of maintaining a low profile is opting out of those unique abilities and so it takes him multiple trips to relocate his master's cargo. Though he is immensely annoyed, he takes the opportunity to scope out the ship as he travels the same route back and forth more than once. The other patrons disgust him; they wreak of wealth and complete lack of concern for anyone or anything aside from themselves. He would love to deposit every last one of them into a live war zone and see how well they would fair.

Pushing his spiteful and not-so-nice thoughts aside, he makes his final drop of his master's goods and raps a clawed hand on the door to alert Kael that his "mission" is complete. He then moves to an alcove out of the way where he can still see if his master should emerge, but also observe the occupants and what draws them to ships such as these. Gambling, drinking, lusty pursuits. It all makes him roll his eyes. If only these idiots knew how swiftly all these pleasureful things or the ability to experience them could be removed.

"That's right. Burn all of your assets on temporal pleasures," he growls under his breath, "May you all burn in hell with it shortly hereafter. You who gain your wealth from the hurt and pain of others."

This indeed is not an easy environment for the Kaleesh to handle civilly. He has already seen a handful of slaves being ordered around and it rubs him the wrong way, to be sure. His hand closes firmly around the hilt of one of his four lightsabers strapped to his hip armor under his heavy cloak. The temptation is great right now, but he knows better. There is a time and a place for war and now provides neither. He must wait and save his energy for the war that will inevitably erupt between himself and the two apprentices of the Night Herald. An involuntary growl rumbles softly in his chest; too softly to be heard above the sounds of indulgence.

His mind then turns to the holocron in his possession. He fingers the artifact concealed in the folds of his cloak pensively as his thoughts wander back to the cargo hold. He hates the memory; the agony of reliving moments in his life he would rather leave buried. Yet here he stands, willfully reflecting on the experience. His yellow eyes close as he seeks to go deeper; relive every emotion, every fear, every pain that had vocalized itself in a powerful roar that had nearly destroyed his volcabulator. The memory alone evokes an involuntary cough as he opens his eyes again. The dark path that leads to the power he had experienced is not one he wants to travel, but the irresistible enticement is there, beckoning him to become hopelessly addicted. He must give in to the magnetic pull. There is no other way as sure as this one that he could forever change the fate of his people.



Tag: dragonsith13 Darth_wanderguard

 

Darth Titus
Lesser Insipid-Hangar

The Chiss, General Barrett, began his debrief. The man clearly did not like having to work with the Sith, but he did put on a good game face. To further betray his feelings, instead of learning the names of the Sith among the team, he designated numbers as names. One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven. Hesper and Vladimir were One and Two. Titus was Three. Cocytus, Mallace, Osnil and Soliloquy were Four, Five, Six, and Seven, respectively. Whether or not this was for simplicity was all semantics at that point. Mallace, or Five, was another mystery to Titus. He was unaware of who she was. He did, however, know she was someone of importance. He tossed those thoughts to the side.

As for the mission itself, it was rather straight forward. Send a scouting party, then send in a flagship with a landing party to secure the enemy while waiting for the Lesser. If need be, a second squad would be sent in to penetrate the enemy's defenses.

The Chiss placed Titus, or Three, in charge of the shuttle. But Titus was to answer to Lead, which was Hesper. He remember her.

Although Titus could not care less, he still thought their force was quite undermanned, and he knew Barrett thought the same. As for the Sith, he also knew Barrett viewed them as expendable, very much so.

"I shall accept questions now, or you may distribute to your mission roles, discuss amongst your groupings, and so forth."

Titus asked no questions. He did notice the AI droid asked to be of assistance to Mallace.

As to close the debrief, the General concluded the team would arrive at the target system in three hour's time. This gave Titus time to seek a quiet place to prepare himself for the forthcoming conflict.

Emptying his mind, he entered a deep void and focused his concentration on finding and embracing the Force.

Tags: Sinrebirth, Darth Kronos, corinthia, Mitth_Fisto, Darth Osnil, Darth Cocytus, anyone I may have missed.