Star Wars OPEN New Sith Trials: Dark Reach: Episode I: An Order Remade

GM UPDATE 2 OF 3

IC: Plo Wanderguard - Nar Shadaa

It had been a fairly quick hour by the time Plo walked into Hangar A, dressed more casually than he was accustomed, to take a shuttle planetside. It was fortunate that he had seen the others soon enough to slow up and not be seen. From the opposite corridor he watched Bellorum arrive, obviously sauced, wine bottle in hand and Jerod in tow. Curious. Something had to have been going on - the captain wasn’t one to leave his post even as capable as Alta was at running things in his absence, and Nar Shadaa didn’t seem Jerod’s kind of place anyway.

And of course Bellorum had Ike following behind her like a puppy, as usual. Plo wrinkled his nose at that - certainly he appreciated Insipid having saved them all, but given the opportunity he would have asked the man to kindly keep his insufferable kriffmeat with him in 6 ABY.

Getting onto the shuttle just slightly ahead of them he spied Cal Jepsun with a hobbling Aryan and his caregiver... Valeri... Veler... Mallory? Something. Hel was with them as well, as she mostly busied herself with helping the doctor.

“Oh no,” he muttered as he realized his daughter would be sharing a ride with the intoxicated pair just behind. He quickly dashed off a message with his comm.

Hel,

Stay with Cal. Do not get involved in anything Bellorum and that other one are doing.

Love, dad

He sighed through pursed lips, brushing his hair back with one hand. The old ones only knew what kind of degeneracy they would get Hel into, given the opportunity. The faint click of bootheels grabbed his attention then, and he turned.

“Syren,” he greeted. Dear god. “You look, er, th-“ like bantha shavit, he thought. Eyes sunken in above dark circles, and still reeking of drink. Was anyone on this ship capable of moderation? “Uh, well... It’s been a hectic fortnight for us all I’m sure,” he gave up on thinking of something nice to say, and settled for a considerate heads-up instead. He inclined his head gently towards the hangar where she would see Aryan boarding the shuttle with assistance. He knew they’d been on less than perfect terms - and while he wasn’t *not* on Aryan’s side in obviously wanting to fix it, he also wasn’t not on Syren’s in obviously trying to avoid him. “Maybe we’ll take the small shuttle instead, hm?”

Anark would arrive not terribly long afterward, and Plo regarded him with a nod. While his relationship with Syren was anything but warm, it was at least somewhat complicated. Anark, however, had never shown him anything but the simplest disdain. Maybe that would change with time. “Give some thought to your aliases if you don’t intend on using your birth names,” he told them both, and entered the hangar finally to begin pre-flight checks on the shuttle.

Within minutes they were ready to go. Plo sunk into the pilot’s seat, donning the headset and keying into the bridge to announce their departure.

“If either of you have any ideas, I’ll hear them,” he announced over his shoulder once they were on their way. “The Smuggler’s Moon has plenty to offer in the way of trouble.”

TAG: @Lady Belligerent, @QueenSabe7, @Snokers

 

IC: Darth Ravenous
A Blackened retreat..

The mental wounds were ever so deep. Memories were to be erased, a personal code of the Sith Spawn.

Yet here he was again.

It may have been a place the beast himself had created to keep the brain from completely cracking. It may have been made before or after the Mutations took hold. No, nobody, not even Ravenous would know. It just was.

He was in the blackened room, once again restrained by chains. They covered every inch of his body and he could only look forward. The recurring visions had no sense of time. A shadowed figure would shamble toward him from the Darkness. It would stop, doing nothing but stare the Sith Spawn in his golden eyes.

This place he had created was a far better place then some who had betrayed the beast disappeared to.

Something different happened this time as the shadowed figure's face morphed into Insipid's and thrust a hidden saber into his chest!
-------------
Current time..

Wake up!

The Sith Spawn let out a howl and lurched forward, grabbing at any of the fuzzy shapes; persons, around, before his fists latched onto a droid with it's hand buried into Ravenous' chest.

"Why the kriff am I still alive!?"

Tag: @Sinrebirth @greyjedi125 anyone else around.

 

IC: Darth Helinith/Discord
Location: Kesh, creating chaos and hamming it for all she's worth, I might add

Chaos was such good fun.
Helinith, standing on Renn's shoulder, surveyed her destruction with an air of satisfaction and laughed.

Her pleasing ruminations were interrupted by the arrival of some force-sensitive newcomers. Not to worry, they could take care of them. But she froze when she saw Insipid's face.
...That was soooo not fair.

"Him! I'm supposed to be mourning him, how dare he show up here in the flesh and ruin my fun." She grumbled her complaint at Renn. The others would not hear, she was too high up.

"Keshiri! Don’t lament - as the Destructors are here, so, too are the Protectors!" Insipids voice rose from the group below.
"Ohhh where?" How exciting! History was playing out before her eyes, like in that play thing! Helinith turned her head to look around but was disappointed to see no one else appear.
And then an all too familiar voice floated across her brain: Make it look good.


Huh? Oh. Oooohhhhh! OH!!
Helinith laughed a deep booming laugh that wasn't particularly her own and swung her arm down at the group below with a voice slightly deeper than her normal one.
"Protectors? I see nothing but a bunch of ragged bums with purple-stained faces and rusty swordsmanship.
Let me introduce myself and my comrades. He's Turmoil, I'm Discord and he-" here she pointed to Bernael- "is Death.

Between us we bring chaos to every world we are summoned to. In the end days, a tree will threaten to steal the sky, a vampire will rise from the depths of hell and a raging ball of crazyness will..." here she paused for a moment looking for the right words,"...leave famine everywhere she treads. People of Kresh, your time has come, look upon the tree of turmoil and despair. Low, you shall know us thus, for our number is 444."

She laughed maniacally, raised her hands, and sent force lightning arching into the air.

Tags: @Sinrebirth (and myself), @darthbernael, @Anark, @Silvertough, @E. L. Knight (as and when), @Darth Kronos

 

IC: Serapis
Location unknown by him, but really in one of Soliloquy's fascets

The Ithorian was done. He floated. He'd been taken to pieces, down to the last virtual atom by the Sith God, Typhojem. There was no cohesion left to what was left. Just... thoughts.

Tentacle

He'd floated. He'd drifted. Aimless, because there wasn't enough left to have an aim.

Typhojem. Scythe. Scythe.

He wasn't allowed to die, per se, because death would imply that his "body" had life and there wasn't a body any more. It was on a ship going gods know where.

Blood soup. BODY! Not dead. NOT.

The Ithorian had tried, best he could to stop the Sith God. In the end, it was the other way around.

Cut. Cut. BOOM.

Still drifting, drifting, drifting. It's all that could be done until he was picked up.

Mind shard. Ahh! Arm. Chop chop.

If he'd had any sense left, he would have recognized the friend. But sense would imply the Ithorian was still here. Please leave a message and the Ithorian will get back to you.

RUN!

The ramblings likely sounded like an insect buzzing in the ear of his friend. Annoying at best. The only sense the Ithorian possessed told him a color: purple.

 

IC: Lord Manticore
In Orbit

With a snort, the zabrak took the eye-drops from the still fuzzy-faceless red-shape that was the medical droid and applied it himself. He squinted several times, and huffed out his annoyance in the process. Once again, he looked around. The salve was working, as things seemed a little less fuzzy, and clearing- at least enough for him to recognize the IG-100 guard droids.

Manticore almost smiled despite himself, but was pleased to ‘see’ something familiar at last. He immediately fell to the floor and began to do one-handed push-ups, just to get energy flowing through his stiff body. He didn’t even bother to check the new and multiple scars he now had from the many lightsaber stabs he’d received before being taken. He knew they were there and deemed them as unimportant at the moment.

It was then that an unclear sound reached his ears, which caused him to frown slightly. It was a muffled echo from outside the medical room, some kind of transmission. He’d just barely noticed it- catching the tail end of it.

what Sith do best - conquer, and take.

That voice…!

“Time to get up!”

Manticore was on his feet at once.

Before he could think or react, he turned to the sound of electrification.

“What...?”

Fiery eyes narrowed as the zabrak’s mind tried to fit the few pieces he had together.

That indeed had been Darth Insipid’s voice, yet he did not sense the Sith Emperor’s presence anywhere.

Neither was his warning sense blaring in his mind, which perplexed him for a moment. Was this some sort of elaborate trick? No, he was missing details, but he was among sith, of that he was certain. Be they familiar or not.

The red medical droid had done something to the large creature, for the darkside of the force churned powerfully at that moment.

The creature rose and lurched forward, grasping. Manticore managed to evade it as he watched with mounting interest; all the while trying to force his vision to improve with greater alacrity. This creature seemed strong in the darkside of the force.

After a moment, it finally grabbed a hold of the droid, then it did something unexpected.

It spoke.

“Why the kriff am I still alive!?”

A hint of a smile tugged at the zabrak’s lips. At least things might prove interesting now. His questions regarding the Sith Emperor and all that had transpired were held off- at least for the moment.

“Not yet your time to stay dead. Or mine.” He rasped in response.


Tag: @Sinrebirth, @WookieeRage, @QueenSabe7 , @Darth Kronos

 

IC: Soliloquy, and guest. . .Serapis
In orbit

They had exchanged floating in space in one setting for floating in space over Kesh. Granted they had also added company to that situation, a reprogrammed droid that likely would try to kill them if they didn't find a way to enslave it better than the distracted Insipid, and soon four thawed and revived old allies. Well, perhaps that was stretching it a bit. Settling in their yacht were the remainder of the Sith not on missions, nor relaxing on the surface with the Kishiri, aboard the Stardust. A lovely named vessel that hearkened to a set of original plans for a weapon of mass wanton destruction. Rather fitting that they had made it their home base for now as they crafted and began their own plans that they believed might possibly take just as long.

Aboard was Cocytus, slightly smaller but still annoying with his murderous future prime Sidious AI. Also present was Serapis, somewhat, it had been a moment of nostalgia as he had floated in the vacuum of space above a shattered world amid bursted bodies of various sundries and deities. It was there they had felt him drifting away upon the solar winds and drew him in even as they as well were drawn in, so that a piece of Serapis had survived within the walls of Soliloquy in a recently vacated soul shard. For the first time Soliloquy was trying something new, something different. Instead of shattering a mind, or merely mending it to be useful he was trying to mend a soul, nurture it to grow into a person again. Although he did not let it use the speakers to speak vocally so others could hear it, he did allow it to hear what Soliloquy heard, to see what they saw, and slowly, perhaps, with the feedings of small bits of Soliloquy's own excessive and redundant bits of soul that he had stolen from others or no longer needed Serapis might become something else. Someway whole. That would be in time though, right now saving a life and growing one was proving to be a harsh growing experience. . .for Soliloquy.

Next stop was Kamino, baring any detours for resources, to get the Sidious AI a body of it's own. Redundant and more expense on a long shot payoff. Although they had their own plans for a second body.

However, the Stardust was present more medical ship than dooms day preparers accommodations. There was a variety of unconscious forms and carbonite slabs in the main reception area, with the bedrooms filled with medical supplies and whatever. In the weeks since Bedlam, Insipid had collected the slabs from the Bedlam area and also hunted down the loose ends of Twilight Sun - including the comatose Leda and one of those deeply irritating Sentinel droids. Now sporting a reprogrammed AI tentatively named Trayus, the crimson armored droid had been uploaded with medical data and was in-charge of their patients. His holographic face was of Insipid though, to at least bequeath the droid with a modicum of authority and perhaps lesson Soliloquy's own urge to fry the thing.

Trayus clucked over Leda, an odd personality quirk from the reprogramming, nursing her to consciousness, and then moved to the carbonite slabs of Mallace and, Soliloquy's own force of terror to impersonate on holocomm calls, Darth Manticore, who apparently had been collected by Snoke just after they arrived in this time. Among the comatose, but freshly healed, was Darth Ravenous, Soliloquy was rather at odds on that one. They were unsure how the man would respond to them no longer being a woman. True nothing had ever come of that attraction and any future pull was pointless at the moment, some things you shouldn't do with an aware annoying alarm baby of an apprentice. He was trying to heal him after all, not scar him worse for ever. Ravenous had been kept drugged to stay unconscious rather than raging, but he was to be awoken with Manticore. Soliloquy tried projecting an image of her old self, a full bodied hologram at least, but it kept distorting and looking unreal as they waited. The punctuating words that only they could hear seemed to shift and mix the image about like a transmission just beginning to be jammed, but never fading. It was hard to do that simple task with. . .that in their mind blathering about ontop of running the ship.


There was a repetitive nature to it which they had found some ability to function when not feeding that little mote and singing to try and sooth it. She was unsure if Ravenous' time as host to a deity of hunger had changed him further or left any effects. Being host to a speck was trying, how much so a Bedlam Spirit? Mallace had been placed in carbonite for her mental health and safety, but without Typh Mallace was being awoken now. In for a shock in for a lightning storm they supposed.

In Insipid's tones, their personal murder droid Trayus nodded to Soliloquy, who was ostensibly in-charge of Stardust, and even plugged into the ship's controls. "Awakening all four..."

Sedation was lifted, drugs to coax awake began circulating, and the carbonite chambers were each deactivated to decant their prisoners in time as one.

"... now." Trayus declared with a simple finality of a droid despite whomever's voice it imitated.

And so four Sith returned to the Order.

Manticore, the Master of Body was the first. Warrior on his feet despite whatever hibernation sickness he might be suffering. The question was clear although Soliloquy had to focus to remember what it was as the constant staccato from Serapis cut through. Probably about breakfast, no telling how hungry the man would be. At the short instance Ravenous was awoken, that question brought no joy to their shards. "Welcome back. Food will be ready shortly after you are deemed able to tolerate it. Typhojem is no longer a threat to this reality at this time. I am Soliloquy, the med droid is Trayus. . .knew a boy named that once. He died well. Well, as well as possible given the. . .shut up." They felt odd speaking in tones that sounded somewhat like their female body, although the rasps of the chorus bled through into those tones. It was no longer natural to speak with her voice, but they hoped it would sooth the beast and help the one that was waking. Then again there was that annoying voice.

"We are orbiting Kishiri, in a tiny ship. As you heal we can elaborate on everything. First thing first. Welcome back, all of you." They simply stated.

TAG: @DarthIshyZ , @greyjedi125 , @WookieeRage , @QueenSabe7 , @Darth Kronos

 

IC: Captain Lennox Jerod
Location: Dark Dreamer, Nar Shaddaa orbit

Bellorum and Ike were deciding together whether to follow Jerod down basically into the depths of Hell. Well more like an outlaw’s paradise but Jerod considered it Hell and not exactly on his bucket list of places to visit. All things being equal he would rather be on Coruscant.

Or on a Star Destroyer far away from these two. And he was definitely having a word with Plo about his partner and her partner in crime. If there was a queue for throwing his son off the ship he thought that Ike would not be far behind in the throwing off stakes.

Ike and Bellorum had decided to come but it seemed they wanted to check out the local culture. Oh no you don’t Jerod thought you are finding my son first, and then you can enjoy yourselves. Perhaps I might leave you here for a bit, see how you like it. You might be coming back up in a jiffy.

Bellorum locked her arm through Ike’s asking “exactly what is proper attire for beating an unruly child?”

“Anything with a whip,” Ike said sharply, smirking at Jerod.

“You can borrow mine.”

This was probably an attempt to rile Jerod up but Jerod had been used to enemies trying to rile him up. And they had failed miserably. His stoic face came back on, which seemed more appropriate for this.

“He may be a nuisance but there is no excuse to whip a child, unless you want that on your conscience for the rest of your life.” he raised an eyebrow “Oh wait I forgot, I believe you Sith don’t have one. You’d beat up a child just for your own pleasure even though it is considered abuse”

He shook his head “Let’s see how you do with a kid strong in the Force and you will probably learn it is not as easy as you expect”

After that rather frosty exchange he followed Bellorum and Ike to the shuttle Bellorum still carrying a bottle of wine which was hacking Jerod off. Which was probably the idea. Another thing to add to the list of things he may talk to Plo about.

Bellorum raised the bottle as she boarded again riling Jerod up. But he was keeping his anger in check to explode would mean they had one. It was like dueling an enemy if you showed anything, any weakness they would pounce on it, especially the Sith. Bellorum had bested him at Hapes and Jerod had never forgotten that. OK so perhaps her fleet had saved his backside at Bedlam but that was no excuse for her to act as she was, Sith or not.

“Do you have coordinates for where your darling child ended up?” said Bellorum as she set her wine down on the table in front of her in the passenger cabin. The whip was still with her as well. Which concerned Lennox. He was tempted to do an un Imperial thing and show off his kicking skills by knocking the wine off the table. But that would be petty and that was not him.

“I do” Jerod said “Azzurri got the coordinates of where the escape pod was headed, I'll need to confirm with him where it landed but i’m sure he tracked it all the way. Once we land we’ll follow the trail, I'm sure you’ll probably sense him before we find him, if your senses are attuned enough even after your drinking binge”

Ike meanwhile was keeping his eyes on Jerod as he poured another glass for Bellorum. Jerod gave him what his Lieutenants and officers like to call “the stare”. The stare that meant you had probably done something so spectacularly bad that you would be cleaning the latrines for a month.

Being angry felt good but he still had to keep his poker face on. Especially in front of these two. He would feel more comfortable letting it all go in front of Plo as he trusted him a hell of a lot more than them.
“So if you excuse me i’ll head off to the flight deck to make sure we get down to Nar Shaddaa in one piece and to confer with Azzurri about where my darling son has disappeared off to” with a nod he began to head off.

Going through the cabin he gave a nod and a respectful “Milady” to Hel as he made his way through the cabin. He respected her, she was of course an important person in the group being Plo’s heir and daughter. She was also probably a bit more understanding about things but she was a formidable warrior. She was also quite handy around the ship helping out Dr Jepsun and making repairs. She had also caught Carrusco’s eye and he had asked Jerod countless times if he could give her piloting tips.

To which Jerod replied that she was probably pretty competent in that department as well and that he would have to ask Plo for permission first lest he incur his wrath.

And then there was Aryan, sitting with Dr Jepsun and his female caregiver. If there was one person Jerod felt sorry for it was this man. Once a proud politician and Prime Minister, now he was a shell of his former self. Lennox hadn't talked to the man since they had left the other timeline but he had kept a slight eye on him. Besides, he and Aryan were the only two non Force sensitives from the group on the ship and he felt it was his duty to at least make sure he was OK. Well Lennox thought they were the only two...

Especially since most of the denizens on this ship seemed to prefer getting drunk to anything else.

He gave a respectful nod to Aryan too. The former Prime Minister and Lennox had only brief meetings before but Aryan had held together the political side of things for the Imperium whilst Jerod handled the military. He hoped to get to know the man more, perhaps be a good friend, or if not perhaps somebody at least the man could talk to if he felt he was alone in getting better. It was entirely up to Aryan but Jerod would ready if he needed him. Perhaps it would be good to have a person he considered a friend as he didn't really have any.

He moved into the flight deck immediately getting on his comlink and pulling his datapad out “Azzurri, have you got the co-ordinates my son’s pod touched down in?”

“Yes sir” was the reply and then some sounds of typing “Sending them to you now. Hopefully you might not get too much trouble down there” Azzurri sounded nervous.

“You do realize this is Nar Shaddaa we are talking about” Carrusco broke in “If it had a middle name it would be trouble”

Jerod was used to the more humorous side of the more experienced Lieutenant of the two. Of course Carrusco had tamped it down whilst in Imperial service but now he was free to let loose.

“Thank you Carrusco” Lennox replied “Just stick to the flying and we’ll handle the rest. Azzurri keep an eye on anything on the comms. If you hear anything regarding a Force sensitive little boy it’s probably my son, especially if he’s tearing up the place. Also keep an eye on radar see if anything comes near his location”

“Yes sir, good luck” this was also echoed by Carrusco.

I’m going to need it with Ike and Bellorum around he thought.

He nodded to the pilot that they were ready to go.

Time to descend into Hell.

TAG: @Lady Belligerent , @Sinrebirth , @HanSolo29

 

IC: Leda
Kesh, in orbit

Curiously, Leda did not dream.

Perhaps it was the various drugs being pumped through her veins, or her injuries - possibly far worse than the medic initially thought. Maybe it was just her mind forcing itself into hibernation, the Force protecting her from what was coming.

She slept through the end of the war, through the reemergence of the Left-Handed Lord; she slept through the devastation and death and horrors, through half of the Empire being cleaved from the other. The last certain memory she had was that of an insane, greasy, highly-overpowered little boy with serious mommy issues, followed by receiving some remarkable wounds and arriving at the med bay. That’s it. Pretty traumatic, right? Well, with the right context, of course. But even then, she didn’t dream about any of it.

All was white, warm, and comforting. Like being swathed in a plush blanket to protect from the cold, lying weightless upon a cloud… drifting, and safe. That was all she knew for a while. Or was it just a few minutes? Days? Seconds? And did she actually know how she felt? She couldn’t know if she knew, because she didn’t know she couldn’t know what it was she knew.

Dreaming about not dreaming, was that a thing?

It didn’t matter. It was just empty. A blank state of nothing. Leda did not have the consciousness to care, and there wasn’t a single thing wrong with that.

…

Until there were… cracks. Spindling in from all sides, though there were no sides nor directions here. Just black taking over the light. Until the warmth left, like a drain opening up in a bath – sucked out and away. How could she sense that, though? With it went her safety, her nothingness… and she was abruptly very….

Aware.

Awake.

The first thing Leda felt, legit felt inside her body – oh she could feel that too, kind of - was air, rolling back into her chest in a cresting tidal wave. Her lungs filled as her mouth opened, inhaling deeply though it was excruciating to start. Oxygen scraping against dry and raw tissue, rushing past numbed lips and down her parched throat, she could practically hear the vital organs expanding rapidly, stretching out to accommodate excess. There was a vice around her chest that simultaneously squeezed and hauled her upwards, whether literally or figuratively she couldn’t be sure. She was being rushed up and up and up and UP….

“Time to get up!”

“Mmmuuuuughh…” was all she could groan, brightness creeping back in from outside, then fully saturating everything. Her eyes fluttered about behind closed lids for a moment, before an effort slowly peeled them open. Some sort of congealed substance had lightly glued them together, so one after the other they unstuck and blurred images popped into her view. Overhead lighting, a ceiling, machines… She blinked repeatedly as she registered the ringing in her ears, though she could make out voices – muffled and direct alike.

Next came her nerves and sensations, which brought Leda out of the fog and into a promptly sharpening focus. There was an IV in her right forearm, and adhesive there that kept it from being jostled. There were several patches stuck to her chest – heart monitors and various vital recorders, obviously. Bandages and bacta over several large areas on her abdomen and limbs, and resting over her face was an oxygen mask, though not tightly attached. She yanked an arm up to move it but it was dead-weight and instead smacked herself across the cheek, which did succeed in making the device slide away to one side. Though now her jaw cramped uncomfortably.

Dumb, she cracked to herself.

Focus, then the Force in full. Several signatures pinged into existence as she was finally able to see properly, looking up from her position upon her back. Only one had a modicum of familiarity to it, a little bit of another, though in the state she was in it was not enough to be able to clearly define. Her body had heated, blood pumping quicker through her extremities to the extent that she struggled but managed to prop herself up on one elbow, knocking a thing or two over in the process. It made some noise, but whatever.

She was so damn thirsty.

First spying a droid in red facing away, plus two or three other ones she’d never seen, her head lolled forward but she caught herself and locked-in her neck muscles. Leaning back slightly to return her sightline forward, her yellow-green eyes widened as they looked around and, much to her drugged-up surprise, the rest of those gathered were all faces she had seen before. Long ago, mostly.

A woman with white-striped hair – hers was an old memory from a time she had nearly forgotten about. There had been a ship and a nightmare… too soon to try and sort that mess out. Her head was beginning to throb.

A creature – Ravenous, whom she had fought beside once. The former Wookiee looked fearsome yet dreadful at the same time… and she thought about how awful she must look, wiping crust from the corner of her mouth with the back of a hand.

There was that cold Kaminoan she had met at some unremarkable point, but he was rude and she remembered she didn’t like rude. Frag him.

Last, a beast of a zabrak that she gasped at the sight of. “Lord Manticore?!” she blurt out, astonished. She had never actually met the renowned warrior, but oh did she know of him. She had thought him dead, all of them had… or so she had assumed. How in the frigid hells of Hoth…

With a surge of energy, Leda shot upright and gripped the sides of her bed with both hands to keep from falling off.

“Where the kriff did all of you come from?”

"Welcome back. Food will be ready shortly after you are deemed able to tolerate it. Typhojem is no longer a threat to this reality at this time. I am Soliloquy, the med droid is Trayus. . .knew a boy named that once. He died well. Well, as well as possible given the. . .shut up."

She turned and swiveled while listening to whatever nonsense that was – Typho-what? - unable to find the source of the disembodied voice. She didn’t know it. And didn’t recognize the name… Solil-huh?

"We are orbiting Kishiri, in a tiny ship. As you heal we can elaborate on everything. First thing first. Welcome back, all of you."

There! She found it. It was coming from a… thing. A floaty thing. No body or face. Just a voice and thing. Maybe she was still high. No, she definitely was.

“How about you welcome me back with the gift of wa-terrrr,” she grumbled, curling back down to lie on her side, all of a sudden very stiff and tired. “And why don’t you have a head?” Leda wasn’t looking at what she recalled would be a holocron, but that’s who, what she directed her question at. It wasn't meant to be serious, but it made her uncomfortable with how it was suddenly apparent she had missed some stuff.

A lot of stuff.


TAGS: @Sinrebirth @greyjedi125 @Mitth_Fisto @Darth Kronos @Darth Cocytus @WookieeRage

 

Darth Ventris
Purgatory

The second he crossed the threshold of the roof, he could sense his rescuer’s confusion and disappointment. He must look a sorry state, after all. The corpses, carcasses, and chaos that had sustained Ventris (for Ventris he must be, under the circumstances) had also left him quite emaciated and unable to maintain his usual ruse. The beautiful and upright visage of perfection had fell away in favor of this hobbled form. He was, however, still aware, and more importantly agile, enough to avoid the coming onslaught, albeit ungracefully. As he fell onto the ramp, he was vaguely aware of his former master leaping to fend off the first wave of an attackthat would undoubtedly overwhelm them if they didn’t promptly make themselves scare. A low rumbling suggested someone else might have had a similar suspicion.

Suspicions, too.

Addled though he might be, Ventris and Vos had been of sound enough mind to begin to question the nature of this rescue. How could this man have found his presence after so long, and yet not known what he was set to discover. Unless, Ventris was all that was left to be discovered. Unless, Vos had lost control of his cloak that had protected him in his absence. Unless, he who hasn’t been named simply never realized the truth about his long lost rival. There were many questions, and neither Ventris nor Vos had the authority or capacity to answer them.

Ventris stared bemusedly into the blackness that had been thrown back before him. As he was throttled into alertness, he heard the words that he had longed to hear for so long. Which were any words at all. As such, Ventris chose to pay close attention as they washed over him, even through the din of the destruction.

“Lightning, now. Now! Together!”

A peculiar request of Ventris, but truly, he couldn’t be talking to anyone else. Well, Ventris supposed he could muster up the last vestiges of his once unbridled rage. His arms raised almost on their, and despite the overwhelming hardships and indignities that he had since suffered, a pure, unadulterated power coursed through his body. For, of course, it must. It wasn’t as if he could die, here, on this loading ramp. The ensuing storm of blue-purple energy could have blinded him, but Ventris didn’t care. His laughter rang out over the sound of the engine and the roar of the massive monsters below.

Perhaps he would be Vos soon, but in this moment, Ventris felt as if he had never been stronger. At least until he passed out.

Tag: @Sinrebirth

 

C-c-c-c-c-combo! with Sinre
ICs: Darth Helinith and Darth Insipid
Location: In and around the fountain, not hamming it up, rather giving Helinith and Insipid fans value for money. Aside from that, it's good publicity.

Helinith watched Insipid launch himself at her as the group below split up, and had a moment of doubt.
Did I do it wrong?
No, no she told herself, he's attacking you because you're his enemy. Take it as a compliment.
Oh right.
And you should probably climb down from Renn, he won't appreciate loss of limb from a stray lightsaber blade.
"Good point." she said aloud, to herself.
"Catch me if you can," she yelled and slid down Renn's back to the ground, looking for a safer but equally as public place to fight. The fountain that she'd been messing about in a world away looked as good as any a place and she ran towards it, leaping gracefully onto its top-most portion.
Oh yeah. Make them wait for it and boom.
She put her free hand on her hip and took what she considered to be an arrogant pose of evilness.
"Despair at my superior might, old man."

“Destructor!” Insipid roared, pointing his lightsaber at her as he caught up. Keshiri witnesses cowered in the various damaged buildings and the like. “I stand between you and your victims!”

He leapt forward, slashing down at Helinith, a secret grin on his face. Insipid already planned to catch himself if she riposted, and use the Force to pivot around her.

Helinith was not to trifled with after all.
What Sith couldn’t take the opportunity to ‘accidentally’ strike down their Master?
She countered, meeting her blade to his, before pulling away and swinging around to the other side. Bit messy she thought to herself. need to tighten up. But then again, it wasn't like any of those watching were duelling experts.

Insipid pushed off the ground as she countered, cartwheeling over her swing, his cloak flowing. It was a showy move, but they needed spectacle today. The Keshiri gasped as Insipid did. He landed on the other side of her attack and shoved his hand out, grinning, shoving her hard with the Force.
You were supposed to overthrow me one day, remember. That's the rule. Why not have a go today?

Psssft. Then I'd have to start making decisions about important things and deal with politics. That's boring.
Helinith let the force push knock her back and fell into the fountain below. Alas, wet through for the second time that day. She growled and sent an enormous force push into the water as she got up. It wasn't very offensive but it looked spectacular as the water flew into the air around them.
You owe me a punchline too. Can't kill you and leave that hanging.
She swung her lightsaber into the heart of the fountain, attempting to sever Insipid from his high ground advantage.

Insipid threw his hand up, catching the water in the air. The light caught the droplets, sparkling... And then the fountain tipped, and Insipid's eyes widened. He had liked that fountain.
Casting aside the the water, he leapt down, position himself so he could catch the fountain with his outstretched hands, hurling his blade at Helinith as he did. He shouted out at some Keshiri in the building which would be hit as the fountain fell. [Out!] He shouted in their tongue.
They rushed to move, and Insipid, for all intents and purposes, looked like the imperilled hero. He erased a grin, pretending that the exertion was taxing him. But after this little show, he would stop playing. He needed to see what Helinith could truly do when pressed. He would need her at her sharpest in the days to come.

Oh boy. Wish I could take a photo of this.
She watched the 'struggling' former master and chuckled internally. She usually felt it her duty to provide the humour but he was doing a cracking job so far.
Perfect time for a villainous monologue. Helinith strolled slowly towards him, blade drawn and her body poised with a dangerous, regal intent that Insipid had seen many times before in a previous life, though never before been on the receiving end of.

"How droll. That you would drop your defence to put the lives of these pathetic creatures above your own."
Helinith felt a little guilty about calling them pathetic. The Kreshi had been so nice in the previous world, fetching her drinks and sweets. She hoped she wasn't doing permanent damage to her reputation. "The thing is, you can only hold off the inevitable. One way or another, this planet will burn and its inhabitants with it. That is the way of things. Peace is an unnatural, temporary state of being that drugs the weak-minded into a false sense of security. Chaos drives the weak to become strong. Chaos will consume peace wherever it finds it, so it is written. We are its heralds."
She also hoped Abolith wasn't listening in on this. She didn't want the ancient being to get the wrong idea.
"Herald of the pathetic, protector of peace, look upon Discord and despair."

Insipid grinned through his grimace. Very droll. Helinith was exacting in her humour, even if he felt a pang of guilt from her.

As she stepped forward, he summoned ‘hidden reserves of strength’ and shouted out. “I’ll never let you hurt another Keshiri!” He screamed, and a sphere of Force emerged from him, blowing a trench in the ground beneath him, righting the fountain, and throwing the water in all manner of direction. The edge of the sphere would brush Helinith, sending her stumbling back - or worse, if she was ill-prepared.

He dropped to the floor, gasping, apparently vulnerable. “Keshiri - I need your... your faith. Your prayers. Please, help me -“ Insipid spoke in their tongue, his head bowing.

“I’ll pray!” A little child said, and dropped to her knees, the adults looking dumbfounded. Another child joined her, and another, and then an adult. “To the Protectors! May they be lifted by our faith! And vanquish the Destructors!”

Insipid side-eyed Helinith, who would detect the curl of the Force upon the first child, twisting her to speak at all. He stood, eyes glowing red, yellow and then, finally, white. He thrashed his arms as if composing music. “Yes, my children, I can feel your power - now I can - now we can - defeat the Protectors.” From his hands erupted a brilliant red lightning, bursting forth to rush at Helinith.

"What a ridiculous sentiment." She eyed Insipid and stumbled back from the force push as the first child spoke but swung her head towards the second like an enraged, venomous snake.
"What are you doing? No. Noooooo! NOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

As Insipid's lightning arched toward her, she snuck a flashbang off her belt with the force and detonated it on the floor at the moment of impact. Ears ringing and blind, she used the momentary cover to fall to the ground quite comfortably and arrange herself as suitably 'unconscious' pose.

TAGs: @Sinrebirth @darthbernael, @Anark, @Silvertough, @E. L. Knight (as and when), @Darth Kronos

 

Darth Cocytus

Darth Cocytus was in deep meditation, focusing on the power of the dark side, during the voyage to his home planet of Kamino. Or rather, this Universe's version of it, as the planet he knew was lost to the Left-Handed God. Such pointless connections were nonetheless disconnected a long time ago in age he could barely remember. It was years now since the kaminoan, Afan Te died, along with his family, only to be reborn as Darth Cocytus, standing over their bodies with crimson blades in hand. That was when his life truly began, and with Darth Sidious at his side, will truly fulfill it as his apprentice, craving the power of the dark side, before ultimately embodying it. Such is the way of the Rule of Two, which Cocytus saw as his destiny to restore. In the meantime, there was much to learn and much to do...

The sudden beeping disturbed the kaminoan, who slowly peeled open his eyes, glowing yellow in black sockets. Then came Insipid's voice, saying that they were close and it was time for the rest of the crew to awaken. Cocytus stood up and looked down at his body, his gloved mechanical arm, which was a lesson of mistakes he will surely not make again. It was yet another reminder that only a fool would see themselves as perfect and not find anything to better themselves at. Perfection would make life boring and stagnant after all.

Cocytus exited his chambers and entered the Carbonite Room, where Trayus was already helping with the other Sith. The kaminoan didn't care for any of them and only saw them as obstacles between him and his destiny of absolute power. After all, not only that, but none of them trusted him either, as his ambitions were no secret anymore. Nonetheless, he joined him in aiding the awakening crew, helping Leda from her chamber before moving on to the others.

Cocytus then stood back and awaited further instructions from the Emperor. It was a shame that while on Kamino, they won't be able to get Sidious a new body. Still there were many ways and many places to get a clone body. It was always only a matter of time...

@Sinrebirth, @Mitth_Fisto, @QueenSaby7, @greyjedi125, etc

Sent from my SM-J327V using Tapatalk

 

Combo with my brosefs - Darth_wanderguard and Snokers

IC: Plo Wanderguard (aka Haretisch), Anark, & Syren
Shuttle, en route to Nar Shadaa

Storming into the hangar with a singular focus – get the kriff off this ship -, Syren skidded to a halt when she saw him, as distracted as she was she had missed his presence in the Force entirely. She hadn’t seen Aryan since the day before and she missed him, verymuch, but watching as he was being helped aboard another shuttle by that clingy medic who was always by his side…the assassin grimaced harshly and turned away, her resolve to leave tenfold than a minute ago.

Eyeing Haretisch, because that's how she still referred to him, she lazily padded her hands over her gear for a check as she closed in on the former Night Herald. He turned before she reached him, her appearance clearly unpleasant to look upon. Syren rolled her eyes at him, blocked from saying something rash by the arrival of their third – Anark.

Recognizing the Sith from some time ago, she only gave him a once over to refresh her memories and then fell in step as they made for their vessel. She collapsed into a seat behind the pilot’s seat and began tying back her mostly dry hair into a messy braid.

“I need a job,” she replied to Haretisch at his request for excursion ideas. “We always need more funds…” Though, that was never why she hunted.

Anark kicked back in the seat adjacent to Syren and watched her tie back her hair.

A beauty

Anark shrugged off the observation and hushed the voice who spoke it. He ran a hand through his own freshly cut hair and whistled to the assassin for her attention.

"What do you think," he asked, turning to display the sides of his head, "I call it a saber-fade."

He giggled a hyena-like giggle, beginning to register that she looked to be in no mood for idle chit chat.

"Nar Shaddaa," he mused aloud.

Anark turned his wide-eyed gaze to Haretisch, leaning forward in his seat.

"You look to have made a good recovery," and he couldn't resist a last bite, "Imperator."

The Inquisitor chuckled again. He remembered the recommendation of shedding their Sith names for their jaunt onto the Smuggler's Moon. He stood and offered a hand to neither of his two comrades in particular with an ear to ear grin.

"Ralf Nimrad. What a pleasure it is to make your acquaintance!"

Syren glanced from Anark to Haretisch and back several times, brow raised. The boys clearly had a thing between them, which she gladly ignored. "A pleasure," she replied distractedly, moving on from her hair to rummaging through a small knapsack she had brought along for the trip.

She paused, locating what she sought as she brought her eyes to meet Anark's. "I have no name." A small barrel flask appeared in her hand as she dropped her bag and nodded towards her Lord, taking a quick nip.

"Where is it we are going exactly? I'll need to know what type of scum we are dealing with - high-paying or scraps-for-scraps types."

"Scum is scum," Anark offered. He bit his lip at the sight of Syren's flask, now wishing he'd had the presence of mind to take something along with him. "Where better to hit first on the Smuggler's Moon than a local bar? We're bound to find some traders."

He eyed Plo, the man's silence beginning to unnerve him a bit.

Anark strapped himself in and waited for the pre-flight checks to be completed. He just wanted to get his feet on some planetary ground now.

Plo exhaled as the shuttle’s engines hummed to life, pre-flight checks complete. Something about flight checks always seemed to devour his undivided attention, and he would have had to start them over had he paused to answer.

“Well...” he began, glancing back to Syren just briefly, conscious that he was joining a conversation in progress, “what then should Ralf and I call you, no-named one? In any case, he’s right,” he noted as the shuttle lifted off and he eased it out of the hangar and into free space. “Everything that happens on Nar Shadaa has its genesis in a cantina.”

“It’s not a world I’ve been near,” Anark kicked back further in his chair and studied his nails as the stars flooded the viewports, “back when I was at the academy...” Anark was distracted for a second by the notion that the imperial flight academy he spoke of didn’t even exist yet in their new... setting, “There was a gent there who’s brother frequented a canteen in the Corellian Sector when he stopped over to refuel his ship,” he giggled “He was witness to a thing or two on The Moon”

He caressed his lightsaber hilt with a finger, thinking how far he’d come, how different his life had been just a short number of years ago.

His mind was as still as a lake in the clearest of days. He liked it.

And he... somehow liked this quiet moment with the two Sith.

Having noted Anark's reaction to the sight of her drink, Syren begrudgingly held out her flask for him to take, having had her fill for the flight. She had only needed enough to ward off her current symptoms, and prepare her for the future ones, too. "I won't say no to a cantina," she added, leaning back in her seat to stare off out the viewport. "Seedy dives are where I've always found my rewarding stints, before..."

She slid her eyes across to Haretisch as he eased them onto their course. "That's where those who will pay the most go, to be noticed the least." Part of her wished to ask him why Hel wasn't along for the ride, as she found herself wishing that the young girl had been to some... minute degree. She shook it off with an impatient cluck of her tongue.

"As for a name," she redirected lazily, considering. She'd prefer to keep it simple and stick to her old code name - The Baroness. But that was clearly not enough for this mission, it needed to be... specific. "Let's call me... Valyn. Valyn Serrick." Syren nodded once to herself, remembering one of her standby fake names she'd use for lodging or identification purposes. She'd stolen if from a mark, a rare unremarkable kill that no one cared to notice. That had made it a perfect name to assume as her own.

Anark polished off the last of his drink and wiped his mouth with his sleeve.

He could see Nar Shaddaa getting closer through the viewport, moving steadily upward to greet them.

“Am I right in assuming we’re concealing lightsabers,” he asked, scuffing the back of the pilot’s seat with his boot.

He became preoccupied for a fleeting moment thinking of his twin. Where was Bokanyaar Etraa while Anark was deep in Hutt space in a time that was not his own? He was unsure if the Force would even notify him if he had perished.

TBC..

TAGS: @Darth_wanderguard @Snokers ( @Lady Belligerent @HanSolo29 & Snokers again, lol - for mentions )

 

IC: Lord Manticore
In Orbit

His vision was improving with growing rapidity now, and that was good.

The zabrak Sith Lord stood to one side for a moment and let events unfold as he observed them and pieced things together, one by one.

The red medical droid; Trayus. He could see it much clearer now. It wore Darth Insipid’s face, or more accurately, a holo-projection of it. It also mimicked his voice somewhat. Interesting.

Issuing the slightest chuckle of bemusement, and for the briefest second, he did wonder if the medical droid’s alphabetical designator was the letter 'B'. Granted, that would be a bit obvious, but still somewhat humorous. Not to mention, it would also serve as a reminder of unspoken truths.

Now, he’d never heard of a Darth Soliloquy, but the disembodied voice of the sith greeted them all, informed them of their whereabouts and teased them with the promise of food. Manticore long ago learned to draw from the force for sustenance, thanks to the extreme training he’d undergone. The consumption of matter had now become a less dire necessity, despite still needing to be tested for poisons and the like before consumption.

At the mention of Kishiri, a memory blossomed in his mind. For a split second, he saw the face of a beautiful Kishiri female; she was a sith, both beautiful and fierce. What was her name? He could not immediately remember. But before he could focus on it, the image vanished.

Manticore frowned slightly. Something had happened to his highly organized mind, and that did not please him whatsoever. Still, he could not focus on that at this very moment as there were factors in the room that required his attention.

Like the weapons carried by the IG-100 droids. He could always ‘borrow’ one of theirs if the situation demanded it, seeing his sole possession at the moment was a simple black tunic swathed across his scarred muscled body.

It wasn’t that he did not wish for his possessions, but ‘mere possessions’ were temporary, and situations always changed. He had to be ready for any and all threats, any permutation of danger. To be free of necessity and dependency, where foes could manipulate the outcome of an engagement. Be that as it may, he would always have his hate and the power of the darkside.

Of note, the hulking creature, who's race he could still not place, was the greater possible threat at the moment. It caused no discernible spikes outside of what was standard.

The red droid now moved-on to attend a sith female still in carbonite, while the first female arose from her own slumber with a lurch all her own.

Manticore regarded her as she gained her bearings. He did not know her, but appreciated how she forced herself into the conscious world- gathering her strength, eschewing vulnerability.

At a glance, he noticed the lack of ‘red’ in her and found it curious, though he knew that in some cultures ‘white’ was just as powerfully frightening as red or black, if not more. A detail for later.

Finally, she managed to get herself upright. He almost smiled.

“Where the kriff did all of you come from?” She asked, sounding rather parched.

“I wonder …” Manticore found himself answering. His fiery eyes glanced at a nearby counter where he spied several bottles of water.

Hmmm.

As a test, he used the force to call a bottle to his waiting hand, which he succeeded in doing, although he knocked a second bottle in the process.

Regain finesse. He made a mental note to himself.

“How about you welcome me back with a gift of wa-terrr…”

Manticore walked over to the sith female and extended his arm, bottle in hand.

He held the pose, but slowly turned his head as another sith walked into the med bay. This, a tall kaminoan he had never seen before. His physical form appeared frail, but Manticore could feel his strength in the darkside -as well as something else.

This one’s threat level was different. More…direct. Manticore made a mental note and observed him for a few more seconds before returning his gaze to the white haired sith female.

“Take it.”

He said simply.

Indeed, a lot more needed to be revealed about this new situation he found himself in. But he was patient.


Tag: @Sinrebirth, @QueenSabe7, @Mitth_Fisto, @WookieeRage, @Darth Cocytus

 

GM UPDATE 2 OF 3

IC: Plo Wanderguard — Nar Shaddaa

Valyn and Ralf.

“Well... effective pseudonyms I guess,” Plo noted as he pulled on the flight controls. “Certainly not a name they’ll believe anyone would take by choice, in either case.” His voice was flat and he wondered if he would be taken more seriously than he intended.

“Am I right in assuming we’re concealing lightsabers?” Anark chimed in and contacted the pilot’s chair with his boot.

‘Kick the back of my seat again and both our lightsabers will be concealed up your backside,’ he wanted to say, but bit his tongue. Anark had only just calmed down and he didn’t care to kick that Mynock’s nest again quite so soon.

Instead he thought for a moment. “I don’t think lightsabers are so rare as in our time... our previous time, I mean. But it’s still attention we don’t want to attract, so stick to vibroblades and blasters if things go belly-up. Unless they go very belly-up. And no obvious use of the force, obviously. That would be even worse.”

When the shuttle finally set down in Mezenti Spaceport, upon disembarking the trio would step into a slippery, ever-moving knot of lifeforms both human and alien. Neon buzzed above every corner advertising services of every kind, from restaurants to brothels and every appetite and addiction in between.

Plo straightened his jacket and reminded himself to kill Doctor Cal for bringing Hel down here.

It was odd, having to blend in now with this sort of crowd. No polished stormtrooper armor, no cloak and hood. No salutes, no groveling servants or underlings, no verbose titles. Lord Imperator indeed, he thought somewhat bitterly. This gaggle of lowlifes, filthy miserable wretches had no suspicion that he could crush them all by simply a reach of his hand. And yet such shows of power had only brought him low - from Night Herald of a galaxy-spanning empire to one-half owner of a hideous yacht. Power and all its trappings had never been very important to him, but had become a fact of life anyway. One he had taken for granted.

“There,” he announced, pointing subtly to one particularly seedy cantina down the street. “Might as well start with the worst of them.”

Simply walking into the place left him feeling the need for a shower. In the far corner, some poor woman was vomiting onto the floor as her date held her hair back. In the opposite corner, someone else had already done the same and found somewhere else to be. Directly next to the bar, yet another patron emptied his stomach onto the floor in passing and simply kept walking, without so much as stopping to reflect on his own discomfort.

On a raised stage in the back, a Pa’lowick singer was fronting a Jizz band either far past their prime or who could never play in the first place. The singer swayed amusically to the noodling of the flutist and organ player, belting out nonsense vocals at what could be politely described as an excessive volume.

In short, Plo was questioning his decision. Still, there were prospects. Some shady types hiding in the few corners which hadn’t already been vomited in. He gave Ralf and Valyn each a firm pat on the shoulder and a push forward. “Find somewhere dry to sit, and make yourselves seen. I might not order a drink though.” They both looked rather like rough customers - he doubted they would have to wait long for trouble to find its way.

TAG: @QueenSabe7, @Snokers

 

IC: Captain Lennox Jerod
Location: Nar Shaddaa

Jerod had managed to get the pilot to land the shuttle as close to the coordinates of where the escape pod had landed thanks to Azzurri’s directions. His data pad then pinged with a message. Jerod pulled it out of his pocket and read:

Me and the navigator have managed to create a map for you, well as much of a map as we can with the sensors and any maps we could gather. Your quickest route is marked out for you but no doubt you may run into trouble at some point!

E Azzurri.

Jerod slightly smiled and then had a look on his datapad. It looked like they would have to go through a rather seedy entertainment sector to get there and it looked like a bit of a walk. But it was good to get out of a chair for once and stretch his legs.

However the sooner he got back to the ship the safer he would feel.

He checked the datapad one more time, memorized the route and put it back in his pocket. No doubt they would have to deviate if they ran into trouble but hopefully with the map in hand, they could find another route.

And the Sith may decide they would help out, although Jerod wasn't holding his breath on that one.

Lennox checked the charge on his blaster and then holstered it. He had decided not to take any other weapons with him, if his blaster was stolen or taken away from him in a hostage situation then he would have to rely on his martial arts skills. Hopefully Ike and Bellourm would warn him of any danger. Again he wasn't counting on it.

“Stay here” he ordered the pilot “Wait until we are all back on board. And keep your comlink open, we may need assistance” Lennox also kept his comlink switched on in case anyone from aboard Dark Dreamer needed to contact him.

Lennox was also very tempted to leave Ike and Bellorum behind but again that was petty. Besides, Plo probably wouldn't like it, despite the fact that Ike was probably annoying everyone aboard an him and Bellorum’s drinking was getting ridiculous.

He turned and walked from the flight deck to join the others. Hel had disappeared and the doctor was helping Aryan leave the shuttle. Poor Aryan, reduced to seeking help as he was quite an independent man, well from what Jerod had seen of him. Hopefully a trip out would help the former Prime Minister although this was seriously not the place to go out for a relaxing trip.

Jerod let them go and caught Bellorum adjusting a hairpin on her head. Jerod hoped this might not be used on Xander as well as the whip but with Xander being like he was it was probably Bellorum’s way of making sure she and Ike were protected more than him. Jerod kept a hand on his blaster as they disembarked staying silent apart from when he was issuing directions.

Ike and Bellorum linked arms as they walked along from where the shuttle was parked and the place was seedy. Lennox followed behind the pair and he couldn't help but feel disgusted at the place. He wasn't exactly upper class Coruscanti but he was more cultured than this and Cleo had fed his passion for the theatre. But this ...this was a whole different class.

“This is making me feel sentimental,” Bellorum laughed, “I really miss our Luxury Elite.”

Which was probably like a miniature version of this Jerod thought. Being in the Imperial Navy most of his young life he had never felt the urge to visit seedy places and get himself intoxicated, drunk or find himself a companion to spend the night with. He had also made sure that if his crew ever did have a rest stop (which was very rare) that anybody who came back stoned, drunk or if they started any fights that they would either be demoted of chucked off. When he was an Ensign then a Lieutenant his fellow crew mates always wanted him to come with him and have a few drinks or perhaps smoke some spice but he always said no.

He did treat himself to at least one drink though as he was off duty but no more. He never wanted to get caught doing anything seedy as he was concentrating on his career. So yes he was a bit of a goody two shoes but you didn't get to where you are now by being uncivilized. Although some of the favors other high ranking officers were rumored to do in order to get their positions…

Bellorum acted like a complete tourist and pointed out various sights as they walked. “Look at that, Jerod,” she pointed at a larger than life image of a nude Gamorrean that was cuddling with a toydarian, “did you see what that thing was doing with its snout?” The image quickly changed to one of a circle of Twi’lek women that were all knitting. “I like this place!” Bellorum told them happily as she hurried down the streets.

Yes, I'm definitely in Hell.

Cleo would have had a fit if she saw Jerod in this place. She was like Jerod, into the more cultured things in life. No if there were theatres in here it wouldn't be the stuff you would see in the more orderly parts of the galaxy, it would be lewd and disgusting. And if Cleo found out that Xander was here too she would have hit the roof and never come down again for ages. And Lennox would have got the blame for it as well as everything else.

Well Cleo, here me and Xander are. I’ll bet if you are up there you are screaming your head off. And probably screaming it off some more about these two Sith with me. But don’t worry we will get him back. I hope.

“It seems you have found the perfect place for you and Lord Ike” Jerod commented “Perhaps when we are done you could entertain yourselves, after all this place really seems to float your boat. Although whether Plo would be happy for you to be intoxicated or high when you get back on the ship is another matter. He could probably sense it off you from a mile away” he smirked “But it’s up to you. Our main mission is to find Xander, then you can go and get up to all sorts of debauchery whilst I wait for you back at the shuttle”

He pulled out his datapad and took a quick look before popping it away “We will need to take the net right coming up in a few hundred yards, then the next left”

Hopefully when they got there Xander would be waiting for them but with Xander being the terror he was probably not. Then he would have to rely on the Sith’s Force senses to guide them. Well that is if the Sith decided they would like to take a detour into one of these seedy places.

Jerod sighed, this was going to be a long day.

TAG: @Sinrebirth (for Ike), @Lady Belligerent

 

IC: Captain Lennox Jerod
Location: Nar Shaddaa

Oh yes, definitely a long day….

Ike was now ushering Bellorum into a bar and Jerod was seriously considering heading off by himself now. It was getting ridiculous.

“Come on, Plo didn’t want any of that Sith nonsense following us,” Ike said, linking arms with Jerod. “So unless you want us to role play that you’re our slave or cutter,” he said, using a bit of criminal slang, “then you need to drop the Lord bit.”

“We are generally heading in the same direction as your son after all...” Ike said thoughtfully. “But he’s strong with the Force, so he’s naturally good at hiding in it.”

It was a slip of the tongue that Jerod had called him Lord and he made a mental note to only call them that aboard the ship. And Ike did have a little bit of a point regarding his son. His son had powers that Jerod could never understand and hiding in the Force was probably one of his son’s ways of escaping detection but he needed to be found soon otherwise Jerod could see the young boy getting into a rather nasty situation Force sensitive or not.

“I am no-one's slave” Jerod growled “Whether role playing or not, but I can certainly try to play the part of outlaw Captain I've dealt with enough pirates and smugglers in my time to know how they think and act.” he frowned as Ike threaded his arm through his. Jerod didn't shake him off though but his other hand was itching for his blaster now.

And then to make matters worse Ike decided to link his arms around Jerod’s neck and now Lennox was seriously reaching the end of his self control and to kick this man where it hurts. Literally. If Ike was seriously going to try it on right in the middle of the street then Jerod was going to make sure, Sith or not that he would regret it. He kept his arms stiffly by his side his hand resting on his blaster again as a warning. However Ike was talking normally now.

"You need to get into role, sir. Find some space for the parts of your heart that never get used. There are truths that society lies about, and layers falsehood atop.” Ike sounded almost cultured for a terrible moment. “There’s no joy in having a stick up your ass. There’s just duty, and disaster, because you’re all about control and you have none. You’ve been thrown a millennium into the past! You fired upon monsters! You have seen the face of a God.” His eyes tried to meet Jerod’s; Ike was taller than most so had to lower his brow.

“Unless you let go, you won’t find yourself in this new world. You can hold onto Cleo and that disaster, or you can make something new with your kid, here. Kids need boundaries, sure, but they also need their Dad to not be jumping at what scares him - when he’s basically scared of everything he can’t control.” Ike stepped away, resuming his sing-song voice. “Loosen up, darling. Here is can be anything that you want; so why not start-over?”

Again Ike hit close to the mark here. Jerod was trying to let his emotions go more since he was no longer an Imperial but it was difficult. When you had been an Imperial for so long and that stoic mask was you it was difficult to let go. He did still have a duty to do as he had been nominated by Plo as Captain and with that rank still came the responsibility of looking after whoever was on the ship. And he felt he had been given a final chance at this after losing both crews of the Revelator and Repentance.

Ceo was dead and gone, Jerod had faced that after having a binge drinking session mourning his ex wife on his birthday. And he was making sure Xander did have boundaries but to be honest it was difficult when your son wanted to terrorize others and thought rules were for idiots. Perhaps Jerod could move on, settle down with his son and perhaps find someone to love, or at least be friends with. And perhaps be a more relaxed Captain. First of all, though he had to find the little monster and bring him back. In one piece if possible.

And then Ike placed a palm on Lennox’s face and Jerod was about this close to whacking Ike in the face. And he didn't care if it started a street brawl afterwards “I found my serenity in places where I didn’t need to be what I was supposed to be. I found my happiness not at court but in these places where nobody knew Ike. You’ve known me as Insipid’s ex, as a pawn of a Moff, as a dandy of a Vizier. But under it all I’m just Ike, hun.”

“Once you took off your uniform, what did you find?”

Was Ike reading his mind or something?

Who was he really?

To be honest at the end of the day when you took off the uniform you could relax a bit more. But Jerod always concentrated on the job no matter where he was and no matter if he was relaxing the job always came first. Cleo at the time of the divorce said he could never switch off that he loved the job more than her. At that time he didn't listen, but perhaps it would be a good idea to switch off but only in the safety of the ship and perhaps on missions where he could play the outlaw, like now.

It was a long road ahead and if he had others to help him it would be easier. But he didn't trust Ike as far as he could spit. The only ones he trusted at the moment were Alta, Carrusco, Azzurri, Plo, Aryan perhaps Hel and Syren too. The rest though he was learning about whom he could trust and unfortunately Bellorum and Ike were quite far down on the list at the moment. Perhaps Ike had sound advice, perhaps not but only time would tell.

Ike then disappeared following Bellorum into the bar where Ike then decided to headbutt a Trandoshan which was never a good idea. Ike then commented that the drink tasted like slime in which the bartender said it actually was.

Jerod then leaned his back against the bar folding his arms and giving the Trandoshan a feral grin with a look that said “Hit me or him or the lady at the bar and you’ll end up getting your brains blown off” before turning his head back towards Ike “Your advice seems good whether it was made with good intentions is yet to be seen, however I may take it under advisement. However I am still on duty so no drinking yet for me”

He turned back to face the bar to see what the Trandoshan did next, whether it ended up in a bar fight or whether they would get out of this unscathed was yet to be seen.

TAG: @Sinrebirth , @Lady Belligerent

 

IC: Lord Manticore
The Feast, Kesh

Her name was Lanara.

He’d finally remembered the keshiri female’s name.

She had been a momentary distraction, and was now a dead distraction from another life, which was also gone.

Summoning the memory was useful only as a mental exercise, if nothing else. There were in fact, countless other names he’d almost forgotten on that list of dead or gone foes and allies of convenience.

The past had held its sway, birthing the present. Strange as it was.

Manticore was covered from head to toe in a black cloak that flowed like smoke around his form. The hood was up, and held fast even as he and the other sith emerged from the craft, right into the enthusiastic din created by the cheers of the keshiri crowd.

Manticore’s fiery eyes took note of them, appraising them both visually and in the force.
Thanks to Emperor Insipid’s artful craft, the sith were being lauded as ‘Protectors’ and given a magnificent feast for having driven away the ‘Destructors’.

The ploy had been clever in its simplicity, but special in its execution. The results spoke for itself.

Truth be told, the zabrak Sith Lord cared little to impersonate keshiri deities, however, he well understood the Sith Emperor’s strategy for doing so. It seemed they were fated to re-enact that particular bit of keshiri history, now, in this reality.

So be it.

In attendance were the sith which he encountered aboard the ship’s medical bay upon waking to this new existence. The white haired Leda, the kaminoan Cocytus, the floating holocron known as Soliloquy, and Ravenous, the Sith Spawn-and former wookiee. None were familiar, save perhaps for Ravenous, whom he was presently unsure if he’d actually met or at least heard of, in the life before. Granted, that detail was merely to help him create a marker in his mind’s map of jumbled events. The need of the present trumped the specters of the past, but not to the point of eradication. A sense of continuity was still critical for the self-aware.

As expected, Much feasting was to be had, as hand-picked servants deemed worthy, were brought about with plentiful trays of foods and enticing delicacies.Unable to test for poisons, Manticore abstained for now. The keshiri Great Hall was probably a magnificent architectural structure, but all the zabrak Sith Lord did, was gauge for possible areas of incoming attacks, look-out for insurgents, and the like.

Thus far, he detected no such threats.

As he hung back, his eyes watched as the Sith Emperor raised an ornate goblet, a motion that triggered several flashes of past memories, then with but a gesture, froze every keshiri for as far as he could see in a stasis field.

Right. The Sith Emperor was not unlike an ascended being. Remember that, and never forget it.

It was a truly impressive feat, one not done on a whim.

Manticore made sure to listen and learn from what followed.

Darth Insipid introduced three sith to their ranks. A human female, an Anzati male and a Neti. Bernael, Helinith and Renn. All who seemed quite strong in the darkside.

It was going to take some time getting used to not using the ‘Darth’ prefix until further notice. Or perhaps that was a sign of things to come? Time would tell.

Manticore remained still, his scowling visage unwavering as the Sith Emperor recounted his failure, subsequent death and betrayal at the Well of the Dark Side. Ironic that Mortis was a fiasco his memories made sure he would not forget. It was intriguing that the three new sith had survived Typhojem’s reality spawning devastation. Hmm. Perhaps they were not the only ones to have done so. Of course, that was mostly conjecture.

There was polite applause, regarding their participation in the Emperor’s dramatization, which was a sound Manticore was simply not used to hearing.

When introduced by Darth Insipid, Manticore offered a perceptible nod of his hooded visage, though he could not help but narrow his eyes at the mention of Snoke.

Snoke. Just the mere sound of the name caused him to flare in anger. No, he would not try to make sense of those memories quite yet, and not at the moment, as Darth Insipid went on to regale those present.

Rule of Seven? War of Three??

More questions.

Syren, Haretisch,Bellorum. So, it seemed that the rest of the sith he was actually familiar with were ‘elsewhere’. From the sound of it, he missed a great deal in his absence. Nothing could change that now, but gaining access to the World Between Worlds….

Manticore continued to listen as the Emperor continued to literally fill in the blanks. Naturally, he still had questions, but they could all wait, especially now that strategies and missions were being mentioned. Good. Standing still and waiting around were not part of the zabrak’s skill sets.

Three more sith were introduced, strong in the darkside as expected. The first looked oddly familiar-and then again not; garbed in plate armor of silver and gold, named Vizier Bo. He was followed by an unknown miraluka, Apprentice Drost, and then- wait- this one felt- well, somewhat familiar. Darth Kronos. This was……

Nothing. Whatever memory was evoked, simply vanished- at least for now.

This was very frustrating to say the least, but in the end, it was the present that mattered the most.

So, focus on the present.

To that end, Emperor Insipid declared that they should bring Order to Chaos. Manticore could toast to that, and finally availed himself of one of the goblets placed on a silver serving tray.

Soon, pairs for missions were being assigned, and he found it an unexpected surprise to have been placed with white haired sith, Leda. It did not take him long to visually find her among the gathered sith. Should she meet his gaze, he would raise his goblet to her in a toast.

Notably, the keshiri wine was both palatable and effective. The zabrak Sith Lord had become only slightly less stand-offish than normal. Some memories drifted in an out, but he simply let them flow unimpeded for the moment. Names, faces and places were beginning to connect in a less disjointed manner. Manticore allowed himself to relax, only enough to lean against a pillar.

He watched Emperor Insipid make his declarations, fully understanding them in their context. He raised his own goblet once again, in response to the Emperor’s toast…

“To the First Sith Order.”

…then nodded silently, seeing all the keshiri servants return to the celebration, back from the stasis that had been induced upon them.


Tag: @Sinrebirth, @QueenSabe7, @WookieeRage, @Darth Kronos, @Snokers, @Darth Cocytus, Sith present at the feast