IC: Brenn?ar Sha the Traitor
Star Jewel, In route to Sturges on Borga?s Health Plan

?Yes, it is the least until a proper sacrifice is able to be performed.? With that and a strict keeping of his jagged lips straight he placed his hand upon hers and in turn upon , ?May the feast be plentiful longer.?

With that nod his eyes fluttered closed as the last micrometers were traversed to place his flesh in contact with the Qahsa. It was as an old friend once more reaching out for in embrace, how long had it been? He did not dare to count the intervening years, but to finally interact with a Qahsa was like a link to his beginnings. Such things he quickly stifled, lest he once more divulge what he should not or give away a key even to this whom claimed of or for him a prophet.

TAG: Sinre

 

IC: Senator Kal Verin the Victim
Obroa-Skai, Hospital Room

Kal merely glanced at the object in his hand, remembering the events that had occurred over the past few months? He guessed that amount of time must have passed, but it had done nothing to cool his temper, his eyes narrowed and burned in anger as he slowly squeezed down on the item in his hands, crushing slowly just from the force of his frustration and rage, the flimsy plastic giving under his crushing grasp.

"Where's my friend? And who the hell were those Mandalorians working for? And lastly, what the hell were those things spinning away from Yavin after the Lightsaber was used on it? I know you saw something Senator Praer, we both know something happened there, and I demand to get the answers I'm looking for." Kal nearly growled eyes burning in anger. "I was trying to find this out myself when a bunch of Mandalorian guards intercepted me on Iridonia, I demand to know why they were there, and following me of all people." he added as the shattered controls fell gently to the floor.



'I swear by the Force Praer if Drel is in danger, or if he's gotten in trouble over anything I will personally hunt down and rip those responsible apart.' Kal thought as he tore his eyes away from Praer's face and resumed what he assumed was it's prior state, staring blankly up at the ceiling. 'Samaelia, why me of all the poeple in the galaxy? What could I possibly offer? How could I possibly help bring balance back to the Force?' he continued to think, delving into the depths of his mind to find what about him could possibly be that remarkable. Then things came back into focus.

"Praer, I heard about Lord Sallacine, how is his condition?" Kal inquired, his being much calmer than before. He had multiple reasons to ask this, first to gauge Praer's reaction, and second to determine where he could find him. He then looked at the mildly confused face of Praer. "Sorry you had information to give me, I guess being unconscious for over a month will make you explode like that. Please do go on." Kal added and if it weren't for his already naturally flushed skin Praer may have detected the slight darkening of his face.

TAG: Sinre

 

IC: Semaj the Naked Pariah
???, Sturges[blockquote]
Semaj looked at his options and didn't like any of them. The only thing that looked halfway descent was the fact that he might get to put on some pants. He walked over to the bin and took the trousers out. He pulled them on and sinched the waistband down as tight as possible. At least now he wasn't completely naked.

Now the choice was take the door or take the chute. At first he thought that the garbage chute would be the most practical and therefore wisest choice for escape routes, but then he remembered where he was. Being in a morgue meant that the trash wasn't simply compacted and then hauled off to some factory to be fully disposed of, no they handled that right on site. All medical facilities, whether for the living or the dead, were equiped with the latest in industrial in incinerators. This was a procautionary measure so that any potential disease would not spread to the rest of the population. In that case should he choose the chute it would be a one way trip to a fiery demise.

So that left only one choice, breaking out and hoping to avoid any quards. The upside of this choice was that his personal affects would be stored somewhere within the facility. His hope now was that they were along his route to freedom.[/blockquote]
TAG: Sinre

 

Zayden Nephrite
Teravi, No Man's Land

The grenade actually soared truer and straighter then even Zayden had expected, the projectile exploding at the dragon's head rather then its wing. But it went down either way, the giant creature crashing into the waters of the ocean. While the Mandalorian admired that shot, he soon remembers what his current predicament was when he tossed the grenade launcher to the side, the weapon now empty and now he was just reduced to the blaster pistol again unless he could find another, better weapon.

?Run!?

Or he could do that. And Zayden actually entertained the idea until, while looking back at where the dragon thrashed in the water, he took note of something standing out in the sand. As if it was waiting for its master all along, his beskad stood proudly, the hilt pointed up at the sky as it seemed to beckon the Mandalorian. Zayden looked at the hilt, then glanced up at the dragon, repeated, and his decision was soon set.

Breaking into a run, Zayden blew past the boy who he only spoke a quick "Go hide!" as he charged towards the beach where his beskad and the dragon, looking mighty angry, awaited him. Already the beast had recovered but instead of taking off into the air, it was charging at the Mandalorian on all fours, apparently too impatient or angry to fly and just wanting to kill him. As ferocious as that may make the dragon, it was still an angry beast and Zayden hoped to make use of that. Reaching and taking the hilt of his beskad, the Mandalorian drew it from the sand with one hand while his other hand retrieved the blaster that he had picked up when he first awoken.

"Come on!" he shouted, seeming to taunt the beast as he waved his beskad, egging it on to come closer.

The adrenaline was coursing through Zayden's veins, the Mandalorian looking upon the approaching dragon not with fear but wide-eyed anticipation as he felt his heart hammer in his chest. Again, not from fear but of excitement at the idea of battling such a monster. It could very well mean his death but what was a good battle without such a risk?

Pointing the blaster pistol forward, Zayden targeted the dragon's eyes which, considering the size, were like giant bolo-balls. Pulling the trigger, Zayden sent bolt after bolt towards those eyes while he stood his ground against the approaching monster, his blade at his side and ready to be put to use.

TAG: Sinrebirth

 

IC: Sallacine the Prophet
In a sticky situation with blaster rifles pointed at him, Corulag

Lord Sallacine gulped. He already began to feel panicky as sweat slickened his palms, and briefly one foot seemed to become a little less able to hold his weight than the other. He attempted to control his breathing, but although a lot of newfound knowledge, for starters, that of the Chiss waging war, rolled around his head his mind was also quite blank.

Well, that would be wrong. It was blank, but only in the sense it was a white canvas of fear spattered by blood - blood which he envisioned his own, a sticky mess on the floor after... no, wait, blaster bolts cauterized fairly well; there would be no pool of Sallacine's blood for servants to wipe up, merely a rapidly cooling corpse.

I hate blasters pointed at me!

Sallacine's nostrils flared as he attempted to concentrate, to pierce the haze that had enshrouded his normally acute political sense. He needed to think of a way out, and fast. He was obviously guilty; he had been greedy to open good relations with the Chiss in order to establish a clandestine trade of Force artifacts with them, and so had delivered the speech that had been instrumental in giving the Chiss control of the Archives... and thus sparking the new war, it would seem.

Which seemed all rather strange to Sallacine, because he had never heard of any war... because I was out for weeks! ... and so felt rather disconnected from current events.

He stared at his Imperial Majesty for a mite too long. He knew that if he admitted guilt he might be shot right there and then. If he said he was not guilty and tried to defend himself, maybe with a weak claim of not being the only one who voted for giving the Chiss the Archives... well, the Emperor would recognize the argument as weak straight away and he'd get shot. If he remained silent for much longer, he'd get shot too.

Options, options...

Brief images of Sentren II flashed through his mind, followed by flashes of two eyes. Red eyes. Burning, shining like stars, but full of... wait, where is that memory from? When faced by death, Sallacine's mind seemed to speed up exceptionally, memories and clips of memories burning into his mind forever; and he knew that flash of eyes had come from somewhere. Yes. One of his artifacts!

An artifact that he had bought from a shady dealer of dark side scrolls on Delta. One of the pieces of old parchment he had bought for a ridiculously large sum of money had been art, differentiating it from the long writings of a Sith Lord which, if he recalled correctly, dated back around 300 years ago. But yes, there had been art too, and it had been a painting, a painting using the bloods of various animals - natives to Korriban all. It had depicted the visage of the Sith Lord who had authored the writings... he forgot the name.

But the name was not relevant, the alias he had been using while buying those parchments in his secret Force artifact trade was, the alias he always used when conducting his dealings, was! Whenever he left his home on Delta to buy Force artifacts, he was not Lord Sallacine - he wore devices, from electromagnets to lightning guns to simple yellow contacts, to create the illusion he was a Force user. And he wore the name of Darth Murdis.

The panic remained but no longer was it quite such a speech impediment, as Sallacine opened his dry mouth and addressed the Emperor with confidence he did not feel. "Your Imperial Majesty... I am... am... guiltless," Sallacine swallowed, "in this matter."

He paused, the story he had just generated in his mind slowly becoming more detailed as the deceptive part of his brain filled in the gaps.

"I was the turning factor in the vote, I know, and the motion, which I remind you I did not come up with, would probably have... nevertheless... not passed... if it were not for my actions."

The unnoticeable clenches in his foot that threatened to become a visible tremble stopped as Sallacine

 

OOC: yet another combine between myself and sinre. enjoy.

IC: Loriana Vendra the Liar, aka Lady Agape
Council Chambers, Sith Temple, Coruscant


[blockquote]Being right about them being off-kilter had been nice, and it wasn't like Loriana really cared all of the stares. Her body wasn't something that she had ever cared about people seeing, it was just flesh. It wasn't like she couldn't change it at a whim. Although the leers of Kias were slightly disturbing. Disgusting old pervert. I get the feeling he wants more than sex. Managing to keep how disturbed he made her, she looked at her pseudo-friend Saarai-kaar.

There was some back and forth, mainly centered around her nudity. Some of them betrayed their feelings towards her, in the positive and in the negative. She was somewhat amused by the blushing Sith. Sith weren't supposed to be so naive, and she was reasonably certain he could be influenced by her nudity. Then everything degraded into Sith versus Jedi bickering, which was somewhat more normal. Loriana relaxed a bit, and watched the new guy who had replaced Jedi Sunrider. There was a sense of sadness among the Jedi, but she still had no idea what had happened to the woman. Maybe she would be told, but it seemed unlikely.

Finally everything circled back around to her previous failure on Sentren. Will they ever let that go? It wasn't like I was the only person there. And I'd have thought the freaking Jedi would appreciate me saving lives. Isn't that their thing or something? Sheesh. Loriana wanted to yell at them, as the Jedi Grandmaster agreed with a Sith.

After a brief pause, Zauber revealed that she had defeated a Force sensitive gen'dai. Almost instantly the mood in the room concerning Loriana shifted towards respect. Then she heard the bomb that twenty others had failed where they were going to send her alone. What are they getting me into? Although it's bound to be better than dealing with the chiss. Pompous jerks. Not unlike some Jedi and Sith I know. That brought a very slight smile to her lips as her eyes drifted around the room.

Apparently she was to be sent after an artifact, near where Semaj was. Oh hell. They want me to kill him. That... It was difficult to hide the sigh that bubbled up in her chest, but Loriana managed. Barely. I have no clue what I'm going to end up doing if I find him. Which they apparently want me to do. Somehow Loriana got the feeling that Zauber didn't quite want that result, given what he knew and the others knew. At least she hoped that was the case.

A tingle went down Loriana's back as she received the full scrutiny of Xanten, Jedi Grandmaster, who wanted to know what made her special. Standing perfectly still for several seconds, Loriana considered that. There was little she could think of that would actually impress this group, beyond having killed the gen'dai. Mentally shrugging, she decided to do something that Zauber had told her to never even consider.

Turning around, and transforming into an exact duplicate of Xanten, down to the clothes worn, and opened the doors that only the council members were supposed to be able to open. Leaving them open, to the shock of those outside, she turned back to the real Xanten and spoke using Zauber's voice, cadence perfect. "Maybe that I don't fit in with either order, and all here know it." Tilting her head, "And were I to hazard a guess that this is where most of the hatred aimed at me comes from." Looking at the Jedi specifically, since they were the ones who weren't supposed to hate. "One could even say I was sent to this life. If those present will remember." Crossing her arms Loriana stared at Xanten, and then slowly morphed back into herself, naked and symbolically saying she had nothing to hide.

Xanten smiled, softly. "The flower that blooms in adversity, is the rarest of all flowers, indeed."

He looked to Zauber. "Send her. She is sufficiently versatile for this. A Jedi might be conflicted by her role, a Sith too tempted."

The Council agre

 

OOC: Just realized that I forgot the rest of my response. Sorry for the second post.

IC: Semaj the Pariah
???, Sturges[blockquote]Semaj looked about the room one more time searching for anything that he could utilize as a defensive weapon. He was hesitant to utilize his Force abilities after what had happened to the Sith. Had he not used his telekinesis to try and knock out his opponent, he would not be in this mess. Of course if he had been patient and listened to the Force a little bit more, probably would not have walked into the trap in the first place. But then again, who is to say, if he had not gotten himself into this mess if he would have met the beautiful Sith.

It's too late now to play the 'what-if' game.

It was strange, even now just thinking about her made his stomache flutter. And it was not her looks or her incredible green eyes. But it was how he say her in the Force. The glow around her was not the typical Sith-Blood Red that he saw in his Light-Watch counterparts. Instead it was a subtle mixture of every color across the spectrum.

It?s just my luck that I would fall in love with a Sith. I guess this is my penance to be paid for what I did.

Suddenly his thoughts turned to the horrific events of five years prior. He had been on Sentreu II, even now those images caused him to shudder. The chill that ran down his spine caused all the happiness that the green-eyed ?Liar? gave him to turn to ice and shatter to millions of pieces. He quickly shook himself back into the here and now. Doing another quick look about the cold, clinical room, he took a deep breath and settled himself once more in the warm embrace of the Force. [/blockquote][hl=black]TAG: Sinrebirth[/hl]

 

Five years ago...

IC: Sallacine, who would one day be christened The Prophet
Rishi system

The 28-year-old Imperial nobleman, Sallacine, was an inquisitive person by nature; he constantly studied things, and he mused, if his father's role hadn't delivered him to the gundark's nest that was politics, he might have become a psychologist or historian.

Still, Sallacine was also selective in what he studied, and so usually, whenever he was involved in something not pertaining to the political field, his mind blanked and he chose to return to rolling things over in his mind. He knew he was destined to become a Lord. Already, he had high political ties, and he had been fortunate enough to make a tie with one Lord Cadriaan.

Yet today, Sallacine was not planning his political future. He was not scheming how to form and strengthen bonds with Cadriaan. For the past year, in fact, Sallacine's mind had grown to encompass within its realm of Things Worthy of Uttermost Attention something far removed from the political spectrum indeed; the clandestine trade of Force artifacts throughoutt the galaxy.

A year prior, Sallacine, newly arrived on Delta with a lavish mansion to his name courtesy of his retired mother's spaceship loads of money and Sallacine's own large inheritance from his late father, had discovered the potential for wealth and power in the trade, thanks to his grandfather, Gwalior. Certainly, Gwalior had been one of the reasons why Sallacine had 'set up shop' on Delta. Despite never having been close to Gwalior during his youth, Sallacine had found the old man an interesting individual indeed, and only after moving to Delta and forming a closer relationship with his grandfather had he discovered the true scope of just how interesting a man Gwalior was. In that time, Gwalior had become something of a mentor, even a father, and although he hid their closeness behind a cold veneer when in public, alone Gwalior and Sallacine enjoyed many a conversation, focusing mainly on two things; Sallacine's political career, and the history of Force artifacts.

It had been through Gwalior that Sallacine had discovered the Force artifact trade on Delta, and already Sallacine was gaining more and more wealth through the trade.

Ocasionally, the trade took Sallacine and Gwalior away from Delta. Sallacine enjoyed these trips; he was spending time with a man as close to a father as possible. A man he could confide in. A man who helped him. The only person in the galaxy Sallacine was close to, the only one he would be really, really upset over if he... left him.

Now, Gwalior and Sallacine were on the edge of the Rishi system to meet a man called Bataal Bandu. Sallacine knew the only reason they were meeting this particular individual, rather than the many other dealers in the galaxy, was Bataal's name - usually, a Sith devotee who was obsessed with a "Darth" - who named in the thousands thanks to the One Sith - held not as much promise as one who was obsessed with more obscure Sith. Bataal clearly had good knowledge of the Sith, and had many contacts, too.

Sallacine stood straight, his back unbending, wearing a hooded robe and cloak that flowed over his back. His hood was up, shrouding his face in shadow, but not enough to hide the reptillian yellow eyes that Sallacine sported.

Sallacine's current appearance was something of an experiment. A few weeks ago, he had presented to Gwalior a problem; that if one merely pretended to be another dealer of Force artifacts, one was entering a rather competitive market, and so less likely to acquire the artifact one wanted. And so Sallacine had come up with this idea...

For the first time, he was operating under a radically different alter-ego - that of a Sith. Darth Murdis.

[image=http://www.darkjediorder.org/data/sith_warrior_tun.jpg]

The yellow contacts and hooded robe were only part of the disguise. An old Jedi lightsaber, it's previously blue crystal swapped out for a

 

OOC: Will post the past when after returning Thursday/Friday.

IC: Brenn?ar Sha the Traitor
Star Jewel, In route to Sturges on Borga?s Health Plan

Nei Rin was Khatazz, it was no small wonder that she went by a different name now, just as he did. He nodded at her words within their mindscape, his own body presented as itself. There was nothing to hide in it now.

A hitch he found in her words like a defective Dhuryam bent on something, that he was the chosen messiah of the Yuuzhan Vong in this present age to lead them back to themselves. A leap that prior words did not bear out in their telling less a faulty tizowyrm was at fault within the Qahsa, within his mind or hers.

Whether the rumors of Kol Skywalker and her were true he dared not ask at a time like this. Not with that hope in her eyes, and it panged him like Sentren II all over again with the weight of his people placed upon his shoulders. Only this time he had sought no position, he had avoided it. Taken the reigns of a few warriors bellies and lived in peace on Nal Hutta, relative as the quiet of that world might be.

?Reunify.? He spoke plain as though the words of the dead echoed through his throat, ?Khatazz, Nei Rin, you see a man that has lived as isolated and free as one can on Nal Hutta. Not a Supreme Overlord. I laid the mantles and trappings of power aside years ago. ? He knew his words were not those she wanted to hear but they were the truth.

?I will help save your people but they must find themselves, I can lead nothing long in years. I believe I have been given a mission by the Yun?o. But it is to seek out a Twilight Dragon, with the assistance of eight other chosen that I have seen as I slept. I do not hope to survive it but to die in completing it, and for this I cannot be what you seek.? He had said it, or rather thought out that knowledge into the scape of the space they had created, a horrid string, but truth in every thought if she yet searched.

?Of one I shall wish to contact who is in command of a certain fleet soon.? Though a fear trickled into his mind of if she called Us-hrok then he was done, bound by something he could not persist against without great sacrifice of himself.

So his words were completed his stance hardening as one preparing for a coming blow he awaited her answering thoughts.

TAG: Sinre

 

IC: Kal Verin who would become the Victim
En Route to Sentren II, Several Years Prior

?Kal Verin! Where in the Nine Corellian Hells are you! Answer me right now.?
Kal heard his comlink go off.

"Heh, always the nosy one." Kal half sighed as he lifted the comlnk from his side belt compartment. "Hello dad, glad you finally noticed I was gone. I've taken a leave of absence without your permission because I knew I'd never get it." he said cheerfully. "And so far it's been very enjoyable." he added winking slyly at Freya. "Anyway dad I won't be back for about a year, so you might want to give my mentors a year off as well, they could certainly use it the way you work us all to the bone, tell mom I said hi, see you in a year dad. Bye." Kal concluded ending the message despite his father's myriad of protests and expletives.

"Well now, that should be that last I hear from him for a while." Kal said leaning back in his seat. "Fat chance of me returning there anytime soon, if I wanted to be bored to death I'd go to Coruscant and watch the Opera, or Tattooine and watch the dunes shift." he added twiddling his thumbs on his stomach.

A few painfully dull moments passed before Kal brought out the oldest phrase in the universe. "Are we there yet?" he asked as Chak and Freya still played with the controls heading them to Sentren II.

IC: Senator Kal Verin the Victim
Obrao-Skai Hospital Room, Present Day

"By the Force, what the hell is wrong with you people!? I'm trying to rest here!" Kal shouted. He then rolled out of the bed, any equipment that had been plugged into him being quickly removed. He dove for a nearby cabinet and luckily found some minor surgical equipment, syringes and vibro-scalpels. Using the training he'd received when he became a senator, typical self defense, which in his case extended to close-quarters combat techniques as per his request.

Rushing the men who'd crashed into his room he drove two of the vibro-scalpels home right into their necks, always a weak point in armor. Then grabbing one of their blasters he turned to face the rest of them. "Listen you can either kill me, or you can let me go. It's up to you." Kal growled. "I get the feeling you guys don't want me dead though or else you would have just blown up the entire room and not just rushed in to kill the old man. I also get the idea that if that's the case you'll want me kept captive. Well sorry to disappoint you but I don't intend to go anywhere, with anyone." he added releasing the safety on the rifle and charging the power pack. "Now get out of my way, and any funny business and you can kiss a couple other black suits here goodbye." he added poising the gun to blast his way out of the room.

He glanced carefully to his right, seeing the now dead, or at least presumed dead form of the now Vice Chancellor Praer. "And I'm afraid you're all going to have to answer for that on top of pay for all of the expenses of blowing a hole into a hospital wall." he added glaring through the smoke, his vivid red skin standing out in the dark swirling plumes of it. 'They want a hell? I'll give them one.' Kal thought, quickly formulating his best chance at escape, and if he failed, his best chance of breaking out of a tiny ray-shielded prison cell.

TAG: Sinre

 

IC: Semaj the Future Pariah
Sentren system, aboard the Cunning, scout ship [blockquote] Semaj lived for missions like this, simple and straight forward: land, infiltrate, appropriate, and bug-out. He knew he was more than capable to fulfill the mission flawlessly, the wild card was his pilot, Regulis. He had never worked with this particular scout before and he was getting a distinct feeling of uneasiness and discomfort from the young man. It could have been the cramped quarters inside of the vessel, or it could have been Regulis? preconceived disposition to all forceusers.

It had been the Knight?s experience that most sentients in the galaxy still were not used to working in conjunction with either Jedi or Sith. They just could not understand the mystical powers that force-sensitives possessed, nor would they ever understand. Unfortunately Semaj had grown used to the feeling of disattachment that came with working closely to non-force wielders. He silently spent the bulk of the trip with his eyes closed meditating. As still, microscopic voice spoke in the back of his mind.
[blockquote]There is no emotion, there is peace.
There is no ignorance, there is knowledge.
There is no passion, there is serenity.
There is no chaos, there is harmony.
There is no death, there is the Pariah.[/blockquote]He snapped his eyes open and shook his head. Did I just mess up the Code? No, I?m just imagining things. With that his comlink chimed that there was an incoming message. He activated it and listened to the recording sent by the Grandmaster of the Jedi Order.

He finished listening to the message and looked out the forward viewport to get a glimpse at the inbound LZ. Before Regulis had even reached for the controls to activate the landing gear, Semaj had activated the canopy release and vaulted out of the cramped vessel. He landed ahead of his ride and sprinted through the forest directly for the spaceport.

This was going to be easy![/blockquote]
---
Five years later?

IC: Semaj the Pariah
???, Sturges[blockquote] Nothing is ever easy!

Semaj raced down the corridor away from both set of people. He had to choose between listening to the voice in his mind and discovering what had quieted the anguish. This time he chose to listen to the voice and see where it led him.

As a Jedi he was constantly tested by the Force to make a choice between one?s own needs and the needs of those around you. Semaj hated it, he hated having to choose, he hated the uncertainty of the Force, the mysticism of it all, and he hated having what seemed to be the weight of the entire galaxy thrust upon him almost on a daily basis.
Once the Force had stopped poking away at his danger sense, he paused for moment to focus his thoughts. He knew that everything that he was feeling stemmed from fear. Fear that he was not going to get out of wherever it was he was currently at, fear of not fulfilling his destiny as a Jedi, fear of falling to the dark side, fear of falling in love with a Sith.

There she was again! His thoughts had once again wandered to the beautiful liar. I can?t keep doing that! I need to put her out of my mind! He was growing angry with himself, so angry that his hands were starting to shake violently. He finally comprehended the age old lesson that his master once tried to teach him when he was just a youngling at the academy.
[blockquote]Fear is the path to the dark side. Fear leads to anger, anger leads to hate, hate leads to suffering.[/blockquote] If the Knight was not careful he would find himself on a path away from everything for which he had stood for the last three and a half decades defending.

Why can?t it ever be easy? [/blockquote][hl=black]TAG: Sinrebirth[/hl]

 

Five years past...

IC: Brenn?ar Sha the future Traitor
Sentren II Spaceport

It was their world, it belonged to the Yuuzhan Vong and for that he had come. He was but one among many, among the throng amounting in the millions, in this sea of his species and even with his political rise he was anonymous. An unknown that was only known for what he had done here, and what he said of prior times.

True the spaceport hadn?t changed since before the first galactic empire, but the world was fresh and in a manner exposed a potential cohabitation between his species and others in a different light from where he had been born and raised. It was not altogether unpleasant.

From what they had to do to keep what was now galactically known as the ?Yammka Route? open and running through this world it made it theirs as much as the population did, if not more so. It belonged to them, and from his position at the Table of Elders it belonged to him as well, they had paid for it as he liked hearing from his commune.

Still, with any rise comes responsibility and duties that he was inclined to perform. Such as the table of elders and now with a group of other species bureaucrats today. Feuding was nothing new to the Yuuzhan Vong and so it was a source of ways to pass the time, and made his position and those of informants important. The domains of Shai and Lian were once more at odds through descendants without the brains to realize that there was more than settling scores in life to matter, especially not those that played themselves out to their bitter ends so long ago, and now without the brains to wait for better settings. Still those in the crèche were given to such things as stupidity it seemed and so he had a job of duties to do from it. Unexpected but something to do. Warriors were always good for a job he mused, Causing or eliminating them they always generate more work for everyone else.

Still from one school yard incident with relic shaper quality weapons the two warrior domains children had caused a ruckus. The Domains would want body and injury counts of their own as well as bystanders from either Lian or Shai weapons, both as gloating and blame for not only the domains but for the children. Warriors liked those types of records these days even if the children might not know their parents pride until leaving the crèches of youth, instead they would only know shame for the foolish attempt, getting caught, and possibly not even accomplishing what they set out to do. The last would be most important and thus was point of contention as the incident was to be settled, that was for a different meeting of groups than today.

The being that he met first at the spaceport in the meeting room, something that was decadent and posh in a manner more deserving of garish to his tastes was one of the few bureaucrats that he actually could stomach without a masqueer plastering a smile on his face.

A Duros female who greeted him, her looks were good to his aging eyes. Perhaps not the curves of a Zeltron but he had never appreciated such things, to his shapers eyes for detail she was a beauty to behold. The Mayor, one of those uncouth beings that abhorred what their job was but stayed because they were good at it and loved to hate it. He always found enough mirth in that fact to smile.

The dragweed broth he took graciously as he gave a slight bow of his head, ?A fine one Mayor Fey.? A simple hello and thank you of sorts as they were alone, these times always promised a better meeting and more productive outcome in the long run. ?Yes, I will have to call the heads of the two Domains and make sure that they impart to the best of their abilities and means wisdom for their children. Warriors tend to have difficulty with that part, but it can be taught and should not happen from those specific children again. Most likely the others will add to what is done, but it comes down to you and I to lay the foundations I suspect from which they will squabble.?

T

 

Zayden the Messiah
Teravi, No Man's Land

No, it wasn't hard to miss at all. Though the creature acted as if it knew of the coming danger and tried to avoid the salvo of blaster bolts, Zayden saw one bolt hit at it's eye anyway. The dragon roared in pain and went down, falling on it's already wounded wing and rolling on the ground. Had Zayden dared, he would've approached and finished the thing off with just his beskad. But then the dragon, probably as a defensive reaction, opened its maw and spewed out flames that turned the nearby sands of the shore into glass. Without his armor, Zayden felt the heat even at this distance.

The beast was wounded and was now on the defensive, a complete reversal from the ferocious man eater. Though the popular advice of slaying the beast while it was wounded came to mind, Zayden instead went with the cautious argument that a cornered animal only made it more dangerous. Besides, there was the kid to consider.

So, after tossing away the now spent blaster pistol, the Mandalorian took this moment to make a tactical retreat. As he turned his back to the dragon, Zayden bent down and snagged the leather strap of a bandolier that he had noticed sticking out of the sand. He hoped that there were still grenades and, luckily, there was one. Arming it, Zayden hurled both bandolier and grenade towards the dragon. The Mandalorian did not expect one small grenade to kill the monster, but instead hoped that the light and noise would further confuse and disorient the dragon while he made his escape. Turning, he resumed running.

"Hold this." Having reached the kid, Zayden broke his stride for only a second to swing one of his large arms down to scoop him up in a one-arm carry. Thrusting the hilt of his beskad in the boy's grip, the Mandalorian continued sprinting.

He was still passing corpses and weapons that were half-buried in the sand. With his free hand, Zayden snagged two - another blaster pistol and a primitive slugthrower rifle that must've belonged to one of the Tofs. Maybe when the dragon left the area and he was still alive, he could come back to the area and do a more thorough search for weapons and armor pieces in an attempt to salvage an arsenal for himself. Right now, Zayden just kept running, looking for a spot to hide while he occasionally glanced over his shoulder, looking to see if the dragon had managed to recover and was even now on it's way to finish the job.





Five Years Earlier
Rishi, Bar

A beep told Zayden that he had a message.

Not now, the Mandalorian mentally replied as the furry behemoth known as a Wookiee reached out towards him. You go first.

As strong and large as Zayden was, he wasn't a Wookiee and his arms would only get torn off like any other human's if he tried to wrestle with it. So he had to do what was best; strike quick, hard, and very much lethally. A hand having been clasped to the hilt of his beskad ever since he had spotted his target, Zayden unsheathed the blade. With only a meter between them and the Wookiee already reaching for him, Zayden would never have the time to unsheathe the blade fully and stab it into the Wookiee's gut. So he did something a bit different.

Instead of trying to hit the Wookiee with the blade, Zayden hit him right on the nose. Instead of retreating, Zayden stepped into the Wookiee's reach and his beskad was suddenly flying out of it's sheathe. But, again, he didn't use the blade. Instead, Zayden sent the pommel straight into the nose of the Wookiee. As strong and powerful as Wookiees may be, they still had weaknesses like any other human being. This included the nose. Sensitive to smells, it would also be sensitive to pain when the pommel of the sword smashed into it. Only when the Wookiee was stumbling would Zayden then reverse his hold on his sword and slash open it's belly.

He wasn't ignorant of the other two bodyguards while he focused on the Wookiee. That was the beauty of the design of Mando helmets: the full 3

 

Admiral Calek Pest
Debris of the Roon system, patrol route Alpha-Niner
5 years ago

Supreme Commander Johnson, a tall and often unhappy looking man, was hitching a ride on the Tenk Qatar from Corellia to Christophsis, where the Peacekeeper was to transfer him to another vessel and then he would be on his way to his true location. For now, they had stopped over at Druckenwell to pick up supplies and a few more officers for the meeting Johnson was to attend.

Pest hated being around the man. He hated the man himself. A politician. A linear thinking man who gave orders and thought he outsmart everyone. Hell, at the yearly Tristar tournament the Supreme Commander usually was so bad, that Pest sometimes had trouble allowing him to win. But as his highest commander Pest showed him nothing but respect. He was a good soldier, after all.

In the middle of another silent moment, Johnson sat his mug down and looked to Pest. ?Surely you?ve considered taking up a desk job by now, Calek? You must be getting bored of these patrol gigs.? A loaded question from the head of the Navy, that one, and one which would require delicate care.
Pest felt this was an insult. He was too young. The Admiral wanted to push him aside?
?Sir, I also considered suicide. I think whenever I take one of those options, I will also take the other.? He just said with a clear and unfriendly voice. ?If you allow me to speak my thoughts with the same polite subtlety you show today, Sir.?

Bridge of the Ascendancy, Battle of Hatawa
Present

He used the hooverchair only until he reached the bridge where he stood up and felt his legs not serving him anymore than his crew, right now. His arms still did, therefore he grabbed a console and drew himself up. People were to busy to recognize him and that served him well. He needed to get an ovberview before ?Vice-Admiral? Arca ruined this anymore. Yes, Arca was a good man, but pushing him two steps the ladder and giving him such a command was idiocy. Complete and utter idiocy. The Chiss rival had probably fought for decades and Arca made his first command. A look at the holography made things worse. He had tried to take his little ship and win the battle on the cost of their big ship, the Ascendancy. Ego. He had allowed his ego to define their strategy. Shakling his head Pest cut the time short he needed to evaluate the situation. He threw himself over to the next console, grabbing it and keeping his hands around the steel until his legs found their hold. Then he grabbed the man´s microphone and hissed. ?Patch me through to Arca and all fleet captains and wing commanders. Now.? He hissed and opened a line.

?Pest here. I take command. Arca, fall back and reunite with the Starzi.? The ships were locked and would take heavy fire, but united they used less screen from the fighters and the movement would actually unbalance the situation right now. It would doom at least one of the Corvette´s, though. But that was Pest´s great advantage.
In the situation as it was, he would lose a ship if he won the battle. He would have to sacrifice. And the Chiss had a blind spot there. They were like little children all raised with the eternal curse an outcast of them, the great Thrawn, would always be better than them. They would always try to win battles with splendid results. They were fools like Thrawn was. His attempts to be brilliant lead a chain of defeats that cost him the war, back then. The Chiss wanted to destroy the Ascendancy it´s patrol and the rest of them. They had probably picked the spot so the mass shadow would trap them here, so they could really destroy them all. Not just most and the rest would be fleeing, but all.
Pest would not have a splendid victory. He would have one he would certainly not be proud of. But by the Corellian hells, he just made a decision. He had something in common with the Chiss commander. He would kill each and every one of them. Whatever had a blue skin here, would burn . . .
Pest gave the battle of

 

A conveniently GM approved character sheet. First post to follow.

Name: Edril?Rhona?Sabosen (Core name: Rhona, in accordance with noted female naming patterns that do not borrow from either given name)
Age: 20
Species: Chiss
Homeworld: Coruscant officially, raised on Naporar
Class: Chiss
Appearance:
[image=http://i766.photobucket.com/albums/xx302/jedisully/ChissFemale.jpg]
Her clothes are silver-gray, as a member of House Sabosen.
Personal effects: A datapad, primarily for pleasure reading. An attaché case, usually loaded with case notes. A necklace with a single polished, yellow stone on a silver chain.
History/Background: Edril?Rhona?Sabosen does not like to talk about her beginnings. Unfortunately, everyone already knows them.

It all began when the Csilla?s Senator was discreetly alerted to the birth of a Chiss child in a Coruscant hospital, orphaned at birth. This was uncommon, but not unusual, for the relative collectivism of the Ascendancy meant that Chiss orphans were well cared for. What was unusual was that the doctors claimed that the infant?s mother had made a startling deathbed confession: her daughter was half-Chiss.

The news caused consternation throughout the Ascendancy. There had never been a recorded half-Chiss before. No Chiss would ever undergo the indignity of mating with an alien. The child was immediately brought to Csaplar, where genetic tests proved the mother?s claim to be true. The baby was the subject of great discussion. It was idly remarked that it was lucky that the mother had died in anonymity for the disgrace it would have cast upon her family could have resulted in an entire house being exiled. It was generally considered that it would be best to put the child out of its misery. After all, no house would ever accept an aberration. The shame of tolerating such a thing would be unimaginable.

The Council of Families disagreed. ?The child is innocent, free of her mother?s sins,? Syndic Tarak?ha?nuruodo said, speaking for all families. She would have no house, but would remain an orphan, an edril, literally a ?no house?. Thus, Edril?Rhona did not die before her first birthday. Though the outrage was great, the decision was accepted

She was raised and educated as any other Chiss?but no other Chiss endured schoolyard taunts of moactan teel??fair haired?, not Chiss, despite her raven locks. Even more embarrassingly, though Edril?Rhona mastered her curriculum her body did not keep pace with her mind. When her classmates reached maturity at 10, Edril?Rhona was still a juvenile. It would not be until 15 that she was fully grown. The Ruling Families felt this provided an opportunity. House Inrokini suggested that Edril?Rhona should learn Basic to ?save another the trouble?, however minor. When that was completed and Edril?Rhona was still not mature, House Sabosen?s request that she receive legal education ?for we lack procurators to defend moactan teel who violate our laws?. House Nuruodo placed Edril?Rhona in a series of apprenticeships that would bring her into contact with other species ?that her mind might understand them better?. By the time she was deemed mature, Edril?Rhona had experienced nearly twice the education of her peers.

As House Sabosen had desired, Edril?Rhona was made a procurator of justice and defended those aliens that broke the laws of the Ascendancy. As a result, she was made a merit adoptive of Sabosen, making her Edril?Rhona?Sabosen for the length of her service. Her Basic allowed her to communicate effectively with her clients, but hers was a thankless job. Few of her clients were acquitted thanks to the efficiency of law enforcement in the Ascendancy and the rationality of juries.

Edril?Rhona?Sabosen has friends, but they are few. Though many of her peers are parents already, she knows that she will never have that privilege with another Chiss. Nor will she ever find it with a moactan teel, for to do so would reinforce the worst of what is thought of her. Edril?Rhona?Sabosen has resigne

 

[hl=black]GM Approved[/hl]

Name: Marek Pars

Age: 20

Species: Human

Homeworld: Tatooine

Class: Sith Assassin (Unregistered)

Appearance:

[image=http://empirediaries.com/sites/default/files/pictures/227980_10150179249398860_28984808859_6909075_7366759_n.jpg]

Personal Effects: Double-Bladed Lightsaber Blade color: Red Hilt: Black with silver and red ridges. Two Vibroblades, Slicer Material. R-19 Astromech Droid - Named Traxx

Ship - ZT modified version of the YT-2400 Light Freighter - Named - The Invisible Shadow

[image=http://images.wikia.com/starwars/images/1/1c/Outrider.jpg]

History / Background:

Marek Pars was raised on Tatooine with his widowed father. His father was a mechanic and taught Marek everything he knew before he passed away. Marek was only 12 years old. He was tough kid who got by with the trade. It was a hard life. It made him grow up faster than normal kids his age. The harshness of the desert planet with the rough atmosphere of the sentients that inhabited the planet, taught Marek how to get around in this unforgiving world.

He was brimming with the force, but untrained. He used to play tricks with the merchants with the limited ability he had. Until one day a Sith from the Lightwatch discovered him. There he took Marek from his homeworld to a secret place and taught him the ways of the Sith. Marek honed his skills to become a shadow of death.

He took jobs that avoided any connection to the Lightwatch. Though he wasn't officially registered with the organization, Marek was indeed an ally to one of the members.



OOC: Will post later.