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

IC: Leda
Shuttle, Kesh, preparing for departure

Leda began checking external sensors and life support systems as Manticore directed, nodding sagely as he began to reply. She was a little abashed, realizing she should have used more appropriate language to get her point across, that she was going to be really hesitant to reprimand someone like him publicly if the role called for it. Never mind the fact that that they all knew it was for show, but it went against everything she was taught, or beaten into understanding.

However, his tone was even and not the least bit condescending so she took the lesson with grace. And he was not wrong.

“Lord Insipid expects us to do what is necessary to complete our mission. We will do what is needed to succeed. There is no reputation to harm.”

“Yes, of course, my Lord. Whatever it takes,” she got in quickly to show she had heard each word and gathered their meaning. Buck up, woman, for kriff’s sake, she admonished internally. Get into your part and play it right.

Clearing her throat, Leda gave him an awkward glance and noticed he was watching her while she resumed going over her controls.

“I see you are familiar with piloting ships. Your husband would be pleased… M’lady.”

“Why thank you… Harrow. As he should be,” she replied with an added depth of mock arrogance to her tone, and a tight smile. She appreciated the seriousness that Manticore operated with, day in and day out. He was as close to the definition of “true Sith” as one could get. But she had a feeling she might be able to wear on him after a while, his little flash of a smirk just then had not been lost on her.

Dropping the act, she slouched some and finished up, everything on her end in the green and ready to go. “I’ve had a few teachers over the years, one or two saw to it that I was able to handle myself off the ground.” She turned partially to face him now, though her eyes remained more so on what it was he was doing rather than staring intently at his face. “Was flying part of your training? When you were an apprentice?”

My, you’re chatty today, she thought, kind of expecting the zabrak to glare at her thoroughly enough to push her into silence. Leda redirected her eyes and restlessly tapped her fingers over her saber hilt at her hip.

TAGS: @greyjedi125 ( @Sinrebirth @darthbernael - Kuat Mission)

 

Jarykko

Nar Shaddaa, A Pazaak game that few knew about… and fewer will


A tilt of his head to the left meant that the tension in his neck from standing there watching fools throw cards had finally been relieved. A satisfying KRRRAAAK KAA-CHAAK echoed out as he stepped forward; the scorched, bloody, and scarred white armor plates gave a little rattle when he narrowed on the stranger.

He shot a thick digit towards the disfigured human and huffed.

“Waiting for it to get a little quieter in here.” Both a veiled threat to the human and a mockery of how quiet the pazaak game had been for the past… excruciating hours.

Jarykko made his way towards Anark and placed a meaty palm on his shoulder.

“You. Up. Now.” Jarykko wasn’t sure who would recognize him based on his former professional career, but his imposing figure was one to make most sane men cower or at the very least, cringe.

“It’s a private party and you ain’t wearing the right hat.” His armored palm gripped the shoulder of the stranger firmly as if he were about to lift him from the seat single-handed.

“Unless you’re here to be a decoration. I’m sure I could beat the stuffing out of you and mount you on the wall like a bull kath hound. Or I could split you in half and toss your guts around like confetti… both work for me.”

The animal-like intensity in his eyes had to reveal that he spoke nothing but truths. With how long he had to stand there and fight the urge to break something while four guys upped antes and folded their hands, Jarykko was itching for some physical confrontation.

… and he was about to scratch.

TAG: @Snokers @Darth_wanderguard

 

IC: Lord Manticore
Aboard the Shuttle to Kuat, Pre-flight

Communications, navigation and propulsion systems all checked green. From what he could see from Leda’s side, external sensors and life support were also a 'go’. It was good to see that maintenance for the shuttle had been kept up. Manticore initialized the engine warm-up cycle as he finalized a weapons systems check.

Leda had followed along easily when he’d slipped into his ‘Harrow’ persona briefly. She’d answered as ‘Lady Shesh’. That level of interplay and communication was going to be essential if the mission was to succeed. The real test would come when all four players took to the stage together- but he wasn’t overly concerned about it. Lord Insipid had chosen his team well for this mission. Four tested survivors. An Emperor, a warrior and two assassins. What could they not accomplish together?

It may not have seemed thus to the casual observer, but he’d been listening to Leda all along while readying the ship for take-off, and was keenly aware of her manner, as was his way. He remembered being in a similar situation long ago, and the lesson learned from that encounter.

“Was flying part of your training? When you were an apprentice?”

Manticore did not immediately answer, as he felt the low thrumming of the engines beneath their feet and through the piloting cabin. He deftly flipped a nearby switch, and the sensation intensified in smooth progressive stages, as did the accompanying sound. It almost sounded like a mechanical chorus.

His visual focus remained on the displays as he answered with a nod and a simple, “yes.” The weapons systems also checked green, as expected.

So, it would seem that the challenges in this time promised to be more nuanced than those faced previously. It made sense. New ‘world’, new challenges. Very well; he would meet them and best them as well. The cost of freedom, to become unbound and unchained, had been great indeed. Far more than he could have imagined.

“I acknowledge the past, inhabit the present and look to the future. Sith must have a focus, we must continually move forward. Experience- it teaches us to navigate the currents; our will propels us. Fools drown and are broken in their arrogance.”

At the last of his words, a spike of contained fury flashes over the zabrak, but is soon dissipated.

Upon the control panel, a flashing light changed from amber to green, and Manticore deftly flips a switch, ending the engine warm-up cycle and bringing the cabin back to normal parameters. The ‘all clear’ would be given in mere moments now.

“So, did you build it yourself?” He asked, his tone no less casual than before, but tinged with a measure of curiosity. His fiery gaze rested briefly on the saber hilt Leda had been absently tapping with her fingers.



Tag: @QueenSabe7 ( @Sinrebirth, @darthbernael, -Kuat Mission)

 

IC: Darth Helinith, Renn C-c-c-combo
Location: shuttle en route to Hapes

Helinith watched Serapis take his leave and the Kreshi kid lead Bo away.
"What a strange one. Didn't think he was Insipid's type. Guess that just leaves you and me," she glanced at Renn. "Although I should probably turn in too soon, need to get a head start on working off the incoming hangover."

“Yes, rest would be good soon, long days to come.” As he spoke, Renn’s voice modulated back and forth, once he realized the new body's vocal chords were different. From a high, squeaky one down to a very low octave one, he shifted the chords until he was once again able to speak in his own voice. “Ok, need to remember vocal chords next time, and hey, stop laughing, this isn’t that easy all the time.”
Helinith snorted and covered her mouth with her mouth.
"Oh boy. You don't half sound funny when you do that. Hey," and here she sat up suddenly, "have you ever tried using it to imitate other people's voices? You could become a mimic! You could unlock things with speech recognition!"

Renn thought about it for a minute, and then in Helinith’s own voice, “Yups, given a little time, and some sort of familiarity with the person, I can imitate darn near anyone.” Back to his own voice, he continued “If I don’t know them I do need a little prior planning, but it still works. So much fun to be had that way.”

Helinith wrinkled her nose. "Is that what I sound like? Squeaky weird. Still, if I ever need a voice encrypted device unlocked, I know where to come." She massaged her temples.

Renn looked at her, "Tired, craziness? If you need some rest get some. And yes, that's one of many things I can do. But don't need to keep you up if you're exhausted."

"I think I'll stay here, guarding my horde. Gotta make sure it don't go walking." Helinith would have welcomed the opportunity to sleep on a mattress after several nights on a metal, drunk tank bench, but she was feeling protective of her gift. Plus, she knew Insipid- at least a little. If this was the same man who had trained her, there was likely to be some reason why this item had been given to her. She needed to sit here and figure it out.

Renn nodded, “Enjoy but don’t stuff yourself.” he said with a grin. Turning, he headed out of the cabin area and retired to his own cabin, working through various transformations so that he could be prepared for the trip.

Under Serpas' (welcome) guidance, Helinith considered her first planning meeting with her latest group of comrades a great success and she was feeling rather pleased with herself.
She allowed herself to sink into her crate of candy and gazed up at the ceiling of the shuttle. The sensation was not at all pleasing, there was something digging into her back. She shifted from side to side, trying to get comfortable, but it would not budge. She growled and dived for the disobedient candy that refused to allow her to get settled. Reaching into the sweet packets, she tugged out a stiff envelope of a think parchment. One corner was slightly bent where she had leaned against it. The handwriting was instantly recognisable- short, sharp and barely legible. Every stroke of every letter was a stubborn line which had actively resisted the coherence and cohesion of words. Only Helinith's prior experience was able to decode it.
To my old apprentice.
And on the back, under the blood seal:
To be read away from traitors.

The hairs on the back of Helinith's neck rose. Traitors?! She glanced around the common room of the shuttle warily. She was quite definitely alone, but suddenly felt dangerously exposed.
She stuffed the envelope into the back of her jumpsuit and tried to look casual as she jumped down from her sugar throne and sauntered to the cabin set aside for her.

It was small but comfortable. The mattress of the twin bunks looked incredibly tempting, but Helinith didn't allow herself to be drawn to it just yet. She tossed her goggles and headwrap to the floor before thoroughly checking the cabin for listening devices and hidden cameras. Finally, satisfied that the room was secure, she returned to the matter in hand, or rather, down the back of her clothes.

She flopped onto the top bunk, dangling her legs over the side and began to read.

@Sinrebirth (@DarthIshyZ @Snokers @darthbernael)

Sent from my left elbow using Tapatalk

 

Darth Cocytus

Darth Cocytus’s smile grew upon hearing the approval of Sidious’s voice within his mind, somewhat proud of pleasing his new master. One idea Cocytus had was to have his people eliminate false Siths for him,and give him the requested DNA that Darth Insipid desired. The kaminoan’s thin smile was at it’s most devious as he further thought it over, finding it to be like killing two mynocks with one stone. One mynock would be left remaining though.... The holocron intelligence…

Cocytus was brought out of his thoughts on what to be done about the others on the mission when Sidious brought up the Prime Minister of his Homeworld. The young Sith snorted softly in remembrance. Lama Su is driven by the same things that drives all of Kaminoan society. Cocytus replied coldly, Driving the Kaminoan economy and “perfecting & purifying” the Gene Pool of our race.

Eugenics is the core of Kaminoan ideology and philosophy along with xenophobia and isolationism. Cocytus continued. They are driven by misguided ideas of purity and perfection of the kaminoan body. Such ideas, while foolish and short sighted, are what made my people the master cloners they are today.

Cocytus shook his head, finding such ideas of perfection to be foolhardy, leading to stagnation, weakness, and, in the end the destruction of the being, for there is always room for improvement and to make one stronger than ever before. His people cared so much about the flesh that, like most of the trillions and trillions of ordinary beings throughout the galaxy, they fail to acknowledge that the body, along with the rest of the psychical world, is nothing compared to the power of the Force. Such shortsightedness lead to the down fall crimson blades of one kaminoan couple all so long ago...

The Kaminoan Sith then glanced into a mirror and he blinked as he gazed at glowing, burning yellow eyes. Kaminoan society is based on a caste system built on eye color. Cocytus noted. The being Afan Te was born with gray eyes and he had not died to be reborn as Darth Cocytus ,he would have had taken on administration. Now however, I have glowing yellow eyes of the Sith in my embrace of the Dark Side. Yellow eyed kaminoans are born to take on skilled labor jobs. I wonder how my interactions with the Prime Minister be affected by my Dark Side Degradation…

@Sinrebirth

 

IC: Serapis (with guest Sinrebirth as Ser@pis)
In his quarters on the shuttle

Serapis stopped mid-stride. Staring back at him was a hologram... of him. The real him. An Ithorian. He became emotional.

First he put the pad down. He paced again. Then he picked it back up. Programmed from his experiences here, it said. He looked into the eyes. "Hello."

“Hello,” it said, not quite jaunty but not quite all of that Ithorian stoicism either. “A pleasure to meet you, and meet me, in person.” It had nearly said ‘in the flesh’, which would have been a misnomer, of that Ser@pis had no doubt.

Ser@pis recognised an act of emotion as the droid put the datapad down and returned to it, some data-stream noting it down as a positive sign of emoting, though an appendix questioned whether it was real or remembered. An air of awkwardness arose within Ser@pis which it immediately recognised.

The Ithorian hologram hmmmm with one mouth, then spoke with the other. “This is a little strange, isn’t it?”

Serapis tripped on one of his obstacles, almost dropping the hologram. Needs improvement.

"Uh... yes. A ple..." That really didn't make sense. "Meeting" a hologram. This was all so confusing. How do we... What... do we do?"

“It’s okay, Serapis.” The droid’s voice became gentle, which in an Ithorian was still musical and gruff. There was a pop, and a small chip emerged from the bottom of the pad. The hologram pointed to an interface port on the droid chest; above it heart. “Place the chip in there, and we’ll begin.”

The hologram reappeared atop the chip itself, smaller still than before. The datapad darkened, and the process was begun.

Serapis took the chip. Immediately a port opened on the droid chest. And there it was. The droid body recognized it. Accepted it. Serapis was still unsure about it, never having to really have to deal with viruses before. But here it is. He inserted the chip.

Immediately, he sensed the interface. He sensed the chip conversing with him and with the droid. It was a strange "language" but, somehow, he understood it.

Ser@pis began to acclimatise itself to its new shell, wandering the subroutines that connected Serapis to the body. There was new data; the fragment of the soul that had been inserted had acquired new ground, what was to Ser@pus a colour-coded map.

Yellow was the parts of the droid which were being entirely managed by the software; Orange were those parts which Serapis had learned from; Red was the fragment of his soul which was indeed a small element. Probably 5% was red; 15% was orange - the rest was yellow; a vast discrepancy which showed how much the body was compensating for the shattered mind within it. Ser@pis softly shared this analysis with Serapis, easing the knowledge of the former Ithorian’s progress into his mind. It was still a great deal of progress, but it would take time.

Ser@pis recognised that, had Serapis been immediately transferred to a flesh and blood body, it would have been a vegetable at very best; at worst it would have been unable to breath without assistance. Ser@pis kept that to himself, conscious that an analysis was negative at best.

The AI slipped into the orange between Serapis and its body, and began to accrue data; in short order it created a mindscape and allowed the edge of it to touch upon the red. Inside the mind of the droid, a blank canvas appeared, and it in stood the mental images of Serapis and Ser@pis.

Ser@pis was Ithorian, as befit his self-image, but the AI waited to see what mental self-image that Serapis would create of itself.

Serapis, sitting in the droid brain, observed the chip's actions as it assembled the map. He studied the interplay of colors, red, yellow, orange. The droid body, itself, went into standby mode as images came together.

Like when he observed the broken parts of the Kaminoan, he observed the map. He observed himself. He saw the damage that Typhojem had caused. It was pitiful how little was left. He saw how far he had to go to be whole. Yet, he also saw the road to travel to get there.

Ser@pis presenting itself as Ithorian hit Serapis like a ton of bricks. How did he see himself now? How much of an Ithorian had he been before? He had loved Mother Jungle. He cherished the interplay of him and his fellow Sith. Yet, he had always been angry. He recalled someone once asking him in relation to him becoming Sith if "someone had stomped on his vegetable patch." If he stopped being Ithorian, he would miss the unique bellow and other advantages that Ithorians had, but different bodies had different benefits. He certainly wouldn't miss the lack of mobility.

Serapis thought hard, observed the map, the chip hologram, himself, the damage. He was Jwob Sebb. He was Serapis. He was a trader. He was a Sith. His mental image resolved itself. He was Ithorian.

Tags: @Sinrebirth, @darthhelinith, @Snokers, @darthbernael

 

Please, join me for a friendly fireside chat between myself and Mitth_Fisto

IC: Soliloquy
En route, aboard Kronos' yacht

The droid could only answer one way as secretes seemed already to be breeding rapidly in their situation. "Yes, he does believe so. If the God-Emperor-Protector dies, we will bereft of a Dark Lord, and he has no named successor. The War of Three and the Rule of One, or Rule of Seven, will become the War of However Many Sith Want to Rule." The droid spoke with Insipid's words and indeed the recorded answer that Insipid had given. How drole. The rest went on in much of the same vein, prerecorded drivel and assignments. The Kaminoan was to be the talker, the lovebirds on the dry shole the hackers, himself the silent leader role, and the eyeless wonder was to be his apprentice. Wonderful, simply . . .groan worthy.

It was a challenge worthy of the living, but considering they had in some points of view been dead until a matter of hours ago it was a bit of a daunting responsibility. They hadn't trained another in any non-holocron to wayward student fashion in. . .alright nevermind how long it had been. Single eye irising at the other he sized up the recently thawed popsicle that rivaled himself and Insipid for age, although Insipid had a bit more life in those years, and Soliloquy had never slept for his longer interim.

A schematic of the yacht then appeared. Drost was given a room with Soliloquy, perhaps his earlier statement of giving his seat had been taken as giving his bed as well. There would have to be a talk of liberties being taken with that notion. With a parting word, the droid turned away, ending the briefing in the only way an AI could; with no formal ending whatsoever.

"Come." They simply stated to the new apprentice and lead the way to their shared berth. Once safe from the most obvious of prying eyes it looked at the other. His deep voice settling into a relaxed story mode as he stood in a corner of the room. "I will need to know what you bring, what are, what you wish to be. Then we shall address your knowledge of history, what you know of either, and then I shall fill in the blanks as you desire. Or as I wax sentimental."

Drost walked behind the rest of the group departing for Kamino, doing his best to follow along as the Droid with Insipid's visage droned on about galactic events he had taken no part in. Sure, Drost was interested in what had led the current group of Sith to where they were currently, but references of branching timelines, differing realities, and even time travel apparently, made it very difficult to keep up.

Speaking of which, the Miraluka wasn't exactly sure when he even was, let alone where. He had barely come to terms with his first forced time skip, back when he had been sealed away in a Sith sarcophagus, only to be then transported wherever here was. He shrugged inwardly. He needed more information, if for no other reason than to collect his bearings. If that information just happened to also include potential damning secrets of his current allies, then who would he be to ignore it? Those secrets could fall into someone's else's hands otherwise.. They would be much safer in his own personal collection..

The Droid had since ceased its commands, and Drost was presented with the location of his quarters, or more accurately the quarters he would share with the holocron-being.

"Come", it said simply, and walked off down a nearby corridor.

Drost let his gaze fall upon each of the other beings present aboard the ship, and upon finding nothing which immediately grabbed his attention, chose instead to heed the command. Truthfully, it was the outcome he had wanted anyway. The force itself provided no clear answers to the nature of Soliloquy, a notion which only added to the growing list of questions Drost had for the creature.

Soliloquy's deep voice settled into a relaxed story mode as he stood in a corner of the room. "I will need to know what you bring, what are, what you wish to be. Then we shall address your knowledge of history, what you know of either, and then I shall fill in the blanks as you desire. Or as I wax sentimental."

Drost simply adopted a meditative stance in the opposing corner of the room, crossing his legs neatly underneath him. "Your questions can be answered simply with one answer: Knowledge. I bring with me a drive for the acquisition of knowledge, of secrets, of power.. There is no boundary I will not break in my search, whether it be against ally, foe, or otherwise." Drost's voice lowered in volume somewhat. "I seek understanding in all things, no matter the cost. i was robbed of at least one thousand years of secrets, I have so much catching up to do!" He finished with a coy smile, staring hard at the current form of Soliloquy.

"But right now.. What reeaally interests me.. is you. I remember your aura from Bedlam.. a different version of you perhaps.. I'm not sure. Everything about you is just so.. peculiar.. I find it fascinating to be honest.." Drost leaned forward, steepling his fingers together under his chin.

Head tilting, eye alternating size as it took in this being that was to be their apprentice, they felt it all very. . .tidy. It was pleasant to hear most of what the being said. Except the betrayal, it was either to be lauded for honesty or condemned for lack of moral compass beyond greed. Then again it was Sith, what could they truly expect? A thousand years slumber was not something that ingrained character. Still, the Force seemed to verify what the Drost was stating was true.

"Let us see if the slimes mature between us then." The robe fluttered as a sound like several children's laughter and glass chimes echoed out as a form of a laugh. "New bodies, you can choose much if not interrupted." Soliloquy's robe rippled in a shrug. "So knowledge, I must confess we are similar in that regard. If you prove trustworthy at least to me through this mission and agree to keep it I shall share a secret not even the Emperor knows about myself. Actually one no one living in this universe knows about me beyond me." It's mind wandered to the fact that the only one's that knew the truth in any shade had been the deities they just manipulated into mutual destruction and distraction to being shuttered out.

"To frame the references I became a functional holocron during the middle of Vitiate's Empire. From that time forward I served in several capacities, even a time with the Revanites. Must admit that man's views on the Force when we talked were very formative in my first few hundred years. I have helped establish the merger of new blood into the independant Sith colony, after a few hundreds of years went to Dathomir, after a hundred or so there went traveling, tumbled through the Jedi fingers and missed Palpatines by the chance of some collectors and eventually to the One Sith where I was used primarily during research. Then to Dreadwar's Empire, end of a universe, New Universe, War of Three, faced deities a second time and for a second time I myself was acquitted in their presence and found the pathways to victory." Eye narrowing they looked at the other, "Questions?"

A genuine smile crossed Drost's face. "All I desire are secrets to keep for myself, no-one will hear of what you tell me, that much I can promise."

As Soliloquy begun to speak, Drost produced a single datapad from within his robes, furiously transcribing everything which was said. The manner in which galaxy-shaking events were spoken about with such casualness said more to Drost than the events themselves, at least initially. The being calling itself Soliloquy was old, far older than Drost had originally believed, a repository of secrets far too valuable to ignore.

Drost leaned forwards, almost bouncing in place with giddiness. "I.. I don't even know where to begin!" He said, sputtering. "So much of what you've said was considered to be nothing more than mere legends in my time, the historians at the temple dismissed Vitiate's sith and the Infinite Empire as nothing more than the impossible dreams of defeated dark siders.." Drost rubbed at his temples, the implications of such truths slowly becoming evident.

"As for everything else, I'm afraid the people you speak of are going over my head. As soon as the First order found me in the Sarcophagus, I was pressed into service.. I haven't had time to research what's happened since.." He leaned back again, collecting himself. "Although, I suppose what really interests me is how the application of the Force has changed. I mean no disrespect, but how do you.. well frankly, how are you even.. here?" Drost gestured vaguely around the room. "How does a holocron not only gain sentience, but the ability to manipulate the force? What I once thought to be the limits of the Force have been proven time and time again to be grossly incorrect.. The fact that either of us are able to have this conversation after Bedlam is proof of that.."

“One truth is the secret I will share later. The other is that all Holocrons are literally a bit of a beings soul trapped in a soul gem. With time and experience that bit of fragmented soul can grow into a whole. This is normally either a limit or a spurious point where the soul will try to steal an apprentices body for its own to be able to use all that it has taught about. A few I have met lived cycles of holocron to body to new birthed holocron again. Often it is a nonissue as they are stunted by the loneliness or there is some limitations in the shred of starting soul and nature of why the Holocron was made. For instance a teaching holocron is rarely going to be more than a deposit of knowledge, a research holocron will often reach the point of stealing a body and a legacy holocron are often built without that limitation of lack of Force ability to begin with and sometimes are made to be smarter than the others. I would likely have been classified as the latter and the former.” Shifting slightly they ran through some of their own limited knowledge about the student, but this was the first and most open conversation they would have with anyone in an age. “Now if you mention midichlorines I will fry your ignorant hide. Then explain that ancient fallacy.”

Drost's brow furrowed, not pleased with the answer provided. "So, to rephrase here, you're saying that, given enough time, any holocron can reach the same state of existence as you have? Including the ability to create a separate, corporeal form outside of the housing of their original holocron shell?"

He grimaced inwardly, choosing to change the topic. That line of thinking held grave implications, one he would have to further research at a later date. "I'm curious on what your opinions are on the current group of Sith we find ourselves with, specifically on Insipid." His voice drained of previous emotion, ending in a soft monotone. "From outward appearances, it's almost as if the only reason he is followed by so many is fear of retaliation." Drost leaned forwards slightly. "He demonstrates his power with such ease, it certainly makes you wonder about what secrets he has hidden away.. no?"

A mechanised sigh escaped at the questions given. "To recap, any holocron can potentially access the Force. Corporeal bodies, pre-exiting can be taken potentially by most if not all in an act of stealing, but creation of a seperate corporeal form is and are a far greater unlikely possibility. It is what deals with the secret I shall share."

Shaking their head Soliloquy had to refrain from the first five thoughts that came to mind about the Sith. "Insipid. He is a wounded leader, followed perhaps more out of apathy and for protection than fear at this point. Those who he allowed to leave before the war of three, those that struck out on their own well they. . ." his robes gave a mute shrug, "Such as Manticore a Weapons Master, were captured and used as little more than I believe batteries and ritual sacrifices by Snoke." Shifting they looked away and then back, "Greed and hunger keep others, knowing they can learn from someone who has stolen the body of one of the One's. Insipid has always been near if not at the top of the hierarchy for a while. So there are secrets of power great and terrible that he knows, and some that he has forgotten. Thus my question and offer through the droid earlier, though it apparently is not confided in enough to give an honest nor accurate answer."

Shifting back they ran the conversation through their head again, noticing they had forgotten one question when he had gone slightly astray with that last answer, "I do not wonder his secrets. I have been privy to too many of them at this point. The few he has left I either shall learn shortly or shall never be interested enough to learn. I follow out of self interest and morbid curiosity, it is a challenge and threat that has spurned my evolution to the heights it is now that I might never have reached if I had remained as I was before my delivery to Dreadwar's Empire. And I so do enjoy seeing history being made, especially those things that will likely fade to obscurity and be turned into myths if the originators live long enough. Such as Vitiates Temple on Dromund Kaas. Little more than spiritual tomb and prison for true challengers."

Drost dutifully tapped away on his datapad, creating individual profiles on each Sith mentioned. Knowing the motivations of someone could often allow one to predict their actions, an idea Drost relished above all else. Even better, those motivations could be exploited for his own personal gain.

He relaxed his stance once more, slipping the datapad back into a hidden fold within a sleeve. "This conversation has been most illuminating, but however much I want to continue it, we should probably discuss Kamino, no? A lot of important beings hold secrets here, secrets we may not be able to acquire again. The cloning process in particular interests me, the notion was nothing more than speculation back in my time.."

He scratched at his cheek before turning back. "Would you be opposed to me poking about in their network?"

It pondered, he pondered, on that a bit. Sitting in silence as he worked on his own plans and then began adjusting them for having an apprentice, even probationary. "If you must, I have five accounts I need you to check for first before you try to go after anything related to cloning. That will likely get you discovered and arrested. Their methods are good for cloning, but nowhere near as flexible and full of potential as the Zakuulian method of my prior body." His deep voice scoffed slightly at the last. In truth there was hardly a comparison between the one and the other method.

Looking about the room they spotted the little cabin desk and a pad they could use. With a quick spin and few quick transcribed memories the pad was floated to his apprentice. "These are the possible thirteen names and four corporations linked to the accounts I want you to check for. If they exist. If any of the names match any of the accounts I want to know as well as status of the accounts. We might be able to do a little bit more than the planned down payment Insipid has planned for. Perhaps even enough they would give us a more thorough walk through of their methods."

Drost accepted the pad, burning each name into memory. "However superior Zakuulian cloning tech might be comparatively, it's not like we can simply pop over to the Infinite Empire these days for a quick chat, hmm?" He chuckled, slipping the datapad within his robes. "As for the targets, I'll keep an eye out. Considering our recent.. err.. jump to this time period.. who knows which of these names still exist?"

He sat backwards, leaning up against the room's metallic wall, dropping the prior meditative position for something far more casual. Truthfully, he was more concerned with advancing his own agenda, but an alliance of sorts with Soliloquy would certainly be beneficial, as it had already proved. There were certainly more questions to ask it, an explanation for Bedlam being the most pressing so far. But that could wait until after Kamino, after they had returned successful. He sighed quietly, briefly enjoying the cool touch of the metal against his exposed neck. The mission had to work. It just had to. Far too much had been lost already, too many things gone wrong too quickly.

He needed it to work.

Drost glanced over at Soliloquy for a moment, failing to pick up anything but the faintest glimmer of it's inner thoughts through the force. After a minute, he shrugged, once again adopting a meditative sitting position. One day I'll figure you out, but that day isn't today.. He thought, placing the hilt of his lightsaber on the ground in front of him.

"Just uh, give a yell if you need anything, otherwise, I'll be meditating, clear my head and all before we arrive.."

Tags @Sinrebirth , @Mitth_Fisto

 

IC- Isa/Darth Arach

Isa stared in horror as her fellow passengers were either tortured or sedated. She, now, understood that their prison possessed an intelligence.

Again, she felt something stir within her, though she heard no voice. Just an instinctive encouragement.

As if moving of its own accord, Isa reached her hand out and gently placed it on the wall behind her, feeling the heat of the planet below them. She stood a little shakily, at first, but felt a strength flow into her limbs. The horror and, yes, fear of what she had seen happen ebb out of her and felt a cold curiosity replace them.

She turned her head towards the viewport and saw lakes and rivers of lava come steadily closer. The sight of the hellish landscape below sent a thrill through her. Not of fear as she would have expected, but excitement.

Suddenly, she felt the other presence in her mind open and attempt to connect to another conscious.

She felt the presence enter her mind again and another’s thought. I seek knowledge.

Tag:@Lady Belligerent

 

Quick little ditty with Jack (wanderguard) & Diane (Lady B)

IC: Plo Wanderguard, Dr Jepsen, Pharmacist Guy, & Syren
Pharmacy, Nar Shadaa

“Tell me you’ve found something more useful than our friend in the storeroom,” Plo barked at her the moment he returned to the main pharmacy.

Syren said nothing at first, jutting out the hand that held Hel's comm for him to take. Her eyes were still fixed upon the bag by the chair and the lightsaber within it, knowing she had seen what happened to the Dark Lord's daughter but distracted by what else she had been shown. The face of that little boy reaching for her amidst a sea of so much death...

"I saw who took her," the assassin whispered, pulling away from the image but returning to it the second she turned to face Plo. He was much older, yes, but she thought she could see a connection there, in his eyes. It made her feel more than uncomfortable. "Them. I saw who took them," Syren started again, pointing a finger at where Hel's weapon was located. "Her saber is there."

She moved away and paced for a moment, wiping a bead of sweat from her temple. "It's like she left them here for us to find..."

Saw. That word gave him pause, for more reasons than the obvious, and Syren’s discomfort was not lost on him. He took the comm. “You touched the lightsaber?” he asked, though he already knew the answer. Given her obvious distress, there was a strong possibility this was her first experience with what he assumed was psychometry. Either that, or it was down to what she had seen. Perhaps even both - and it was an understatement to say that the lightsaber she appeared to have touched had more than a little history. She might know things about his father now that even he did not.

In any case, whatever weirdness had now been created between them could wait. He placed a firm hand on her shoulder. “Did you see anything that could help? Where were they going? Did they say anything?” He stooped to meet her gaze, however uncomfortable it might have been, and gave a shake as if to bring her back to her senses. “Did you see anything that Cal didn’t?”

Cal watched the exchange, anxious for any revelation that they could locate Hel quickly, and there was obviously some psycho Sith stuff coming into play, but he was starting to think they were wasting time.

“Shouldn’t we contact the authorities or some law enforcement?” Cal finally blurted out. The question drew the pharmacist out of his silence, “there’s no real law here, sir,” he answered quietly. “I mean to say, there is but they’re all on the take from the crime syndicates,” he paused and scrutinized the three beings, “I guess you’re not a local?”

Syren hadn't acknowledged Dr Jepsen or the pharmacist, intent on getting out what she knew as if it might slip away from her like dreams often did once you woke. "I... yes, I had it in my hands and suddenly you..." An awkward pause as she stared at the former Night Herald. "...she was there." Again she motioned towards the bag and the seat it was near before moving to indicate the floor at her feet. "The kid was here, and they came in and took them both."

She peeled away from Plo and set off towards the door, pausing just before she could open it to whirl back around towards the others. "A vehicle, heavily armored. They shoved them in and took off that way." Once more with a pointed finger in a specific direction. "They... mentioned prices, a brothel..." Syren stopped then, aware she was nearly out of breath from speaking so quickly.

She was there. Plo would have turned that over in his mind endlessly if not for larger concerns. Did she see me kill her? he wondered. After so many years, for a time the shame had given way to rage. Now it was back in force, and had been since the first time he looked upon Hel as his daughter - and hers, the one whose name he couldn’t speak.

“We need to go,” he finally said, and called the backpack, including the lightsaber, to an outstretched hand. “Cal, check on our friend and make sure he doesn’t go anywhere without us.”

With that, he activated his comm and tuned it to Jerod’s signal. “Captain, get to the shuttle if you’re not already, and get here now. Follow the beacon from Hel’s signal. Your son’s been kidnapped. Land in the street for all I care, we have a captive who can’t walk far and I’m not carrying him to the spaceport.”

TAGS: @Darth_wanderguard @Lady Belligerent @Jerjerrod-Lennox

 

IC: Darth Anark (A.K.A. Ralf Nimrad)
Nar Shaddaa


He kept his eyes on the centre of the table even as Jarykko clutched his shoulder with a vice-like grip.

Anark heard Wanderguard’s voice in his head droning on about concealing the fact that he was Sith. Underneath the Pazaak table he could feel his lightsaber hilt begin to tremble as he caressed it through the Force.

No

“Unless you’re here to be a decoration. I’m sure I could beat the stuffing out of you and mount you on the wall like a bull kath hound. Or I could split you in half and toss your guts around like confetti… both work for me.”

Anark, as he did, twitched involuntarily, his knee smacking against the table causing a vibration which disturbed the cards that were on the surface. He saw the ugly bastard sitting opposite him jump and then try to make it seem like he just had to cough.

Anark chuckled aloud.

no...no...no

He looked up to meet Jarykko’s gaze and muttered something in Huttese...

“Then let us dance”

With that, his first move was to send a bolt of lightning rushing through the big guy’s abdomen...


TAG: @Bacta Bubble Bath @Darth_wanderguard

 

IC: Soliloquy
Hyperspace, Kamino



Soliloquy had the genome of Darth Insipid to periodically ponder over, not that he had a genome fetish or anything. . .actually with a new body stuck betwist forms who was he to say whether he did or not. He wasn't exactly himself just yet. He was, but he was frustratingly restricted just shy. He had vacillated for a moment between feeling and knowing himself, the genome and the lock upon his form. But there was also a message to digest; it was a small one.

My old friend. I appreciate that you have a long journey ahead of you, and my interference with yourself was unwarranted and unwise, undoubtedly. I believe that, stored within your ancient memory, is a technique known as the 'palimpsest' - the ability to overwrite the data within a Holocron. You are old, and wise, but there is the possibility that there is more to you than even you know. The Holocron you forged; was it created by you, or passed to you by your Master, whomever that was?

The time of Darth Revan - you speak of it, but the eras of Sith are overlaid upon others time and time again; would it be any different with our Holocrons?

It was, thus, a question, a challenge, and a fishing expedition. Just because someone was using bait did not mean they did not have a point as well. They took the time to look inwards into their own memories. To look back, to look to the creation of the Holocron. To know themselves. What they had done to themselves. It was a tale as old as time with a double twist half tuck into mucosal thick sludge, it took time to sort that far back, still it was worth it. To remember, where did the pieces come from that made the Holocron? Some were scavenged, some where bought, but what was recycled? What had been dismantled to create the understanding of holocrons necessary to create one, to create theirs? That memory was even deeper, where the suppressive nature of self denial had caked into the slimes of time, becoming encrusted in the eons of purposeful neglect of the knowledge.

Centering himself he focused inward, completing the messages for the different eventualities later, planning for success or failure at different stages. Then, then focusing inward to the Holocron that was now embedded like a tumor in this forced body. It was time to see what fragments, what pieces they could find in the remaining capstones and matrices now that they had removed themselves from them. Already that top layer was gone, but the imprint and primer before it hung on like a cheap harsh veneer that they delicately chipped away at now. Worming their way into the spongy center of what was, what used to be. Though with more time they would likely remember what they collected and why, it was faster and easier to nibble the bait and see and know.

TAG: @Sinrebirth , @Silvertough,

 

Darth Hades & Morrigan
Shuttle

Were anyone to examine Hades in the Force, they would find an emotionless void. He had been alone so long, he rarely opened to anyone. He had started with Ravenous, his former apprentice, and was sure that loyalty would be mutual. It, in the end, was not. He'd also taken a liking to Hel, Haretisch's daughter. that, too, failed. Then there was Bellorum and Twilight Sun, another failed attempt at connection.

Finis and Morrigan were the only two he truly had made a connection with. He'd suffered in silence mostly about the lose of Finis and Morrigan ad he had grown closer than ever recently, but he refused to allow it to blossom beyond a physical attraction with Morrigan, or a protective brother bond with Finis.

As Zalen told him where they were to go though, he almost had a pang of guilt and hope.

Mustafar.

The mentioning of the planet sent his senses on alert. He knew, almost immediately, that was where his armor was. He decided to keep that piece of information to himself for now.

"I'm not really a pilot, but I have operated a few ships."

He strode forward toward the cockpit.

"You are aware that Snoke is most likely near Ship. His power and control is vast. We must tread very carefully."

Hades had experienced first hand the power of Snoke along with Insipid when fighting for Ship. Hades lost that contest to Snoke and had thought it over and over again since.

Something about it felt wrong though. Snoke had so much power, and such control, that he had to have been training for years and years beyond the norm of a darksider. He wasn't a Sith, it seemed, but he was so steeped in the darkside that he might as well be. How had no one seen or felt him before now?

What did Insipid know he wasn't telling them?

Hades vowed, that when he returned form finding Finis, that he and Insipid needed to have a talk. Preferably without trying to murder one another again.
​

Morrigan
Shuttle

She had quieted, but this was not over. Their time together had proven Hades needed her, as much as she needed him. He rarely spoke about anything personal, but their nights together were full of passion and she could see in his eyes the pain and longing to belong. She'd gained his trust, gained respect even, for her skills, and now she was going to demand she be listened too.

Or at least she would demand it if she didn't know he could kill her without even moving from his spot. She was a worthy opponent, he'd told her, but without the force, she would need him to survive, and she resented that fact.

She was as loyal to him as she was to the former Empire, but even that loyalty only went so far. Thrawn had treated her as useless, the Imperials had saw her as nothing but a piece of meat to abuse and use as they pleased. Hades had given her the chance for revenge, and she was grateful, but she wanted more than to be a servant.

Hades would give that to her, once he found his own place and solidified it.

"I recognize this model of shuttle. The Imperials used to use them for unofficial business."

Hardly any, except Hades, would know her father had helped train Imperial troops in the way of the Echani fighting styles. She should have been able to take his place, but nothing lasts, it seems, and she was all but forgotten as an ally.

"I can copilot, if you so wish, Lady Zalen."
​

TAG: @Lady Belligerent, @WookieeRage, @Sinrebirth (Mention only)

 

IC: Darth Helinith
Location: soon to be ex-shuttle

"Advance to the next line! Capture the command point!"

Helinith charged forward cutting into the opposing troops. They were spread out, it was hard to strike at more than one with each swing of her blade. Their own soldiers charged in to join the fray, and the deafening sound of laser blasters subsided somewhat as close combat skirmishes broke out. She flung her lightsaber across and away from her, reaching around for a second red blade and igniting it, deflecting shots. The first blade shot through three opponents, coming to rest in the neck of a third, who dropped like a ton of bricks.
Her heart sank, she knew what was about to happen next.
A young lad of fifteen landed next to her, his own blade drawn.
Run! she wanted to scream at him. But she couldn't.
He thrust out at three more enemies who had stepped forward and they were diced up with precise, if slightly stiff movements. He grinned at her.
"Well, we must have them on the run, Master."
Get Out! Run! DON'T STAND THERE! she yelled in her head at him.
"Second Wave!" was the cry that interrupted them, a warrior pointing behind them, towards the enemy lines.
No, not a second wave. Her hands shook as she turned but she knew already what was about to unfold. From a birds eye view, she could see the back three lines of enemy troops that had quietly stepped back as they had engaged the front four, and now they lifted up their rifles towards her. She tried to move but her feet were stuck as if with glue.
"FIRE!"

They shot without discrimination. Soldiers on both sides began to fall. Megablaster units joined in, churning up the ground around her. Run! she shrieked in panic but her voice echoed to itself into her empty head as hot tears muscled through and began pouring down her cheeks.
A man in an officers uniform ran towards her, collapsing howling as his legs are shot out from under him. Her apprentice opens his mouth and coughs up blood, his insides falling onto the ground in front of him, as he watches them in confusion. She is wet. She looks down and realises his blood has soaked her clothes. Maybe some of it is her own, she's not sure.
A hand grabs her on the shoulder, and she jumps. It pulls her round and a set of intense eyes glare at her, unflinching.
Malkuth.
Then the ground opens beneath their feet into darkness. She screams and falls.


There was a huge tremor. Helinith sat up on her bunk, screaming. Her lightsaber hilt was in her hand. Her limbs trembled, her body dripped in sweat.
"What's going on?" she croaked, looking around.
On the floor, where it had slipped from her hand, the sight of the letter brought her back.
Hapes. Traitors. No Tie Fighter.
Irritated, she shook her head to regain her senses. Her throat was choked up and cheeks wet.
Her hearing came to her gradually, a pulsing siren over and over. It was familiar. There seemed to be words.

Central axis hulled; decompression commencing; oxygen levels will reach minimal levels within two minutes. All crew, abandon ship. All crew, abandon ship. All crew, aban-

"Kriff! Now what?"
Adrenaline still coursing, she stuffed the letter into her jumpsuit and scooped her belt, boots, travel cloak and goggles into her arms and ran for the escape pods like a rabbit from a fox.
The sight of Renn made her blink. She was glad to see him.
"Come on tree-boy, abandon ship!"

Tags: @darthbernael @DarthIshyZ @Sinrebirth @Snokers

Sent from my left elbow using Tapatalk

 

OOC: A combo with two awesome ladies, @HanSolo29 and @Lady Belligerent

IC: Captain Lennox Jerod, Aryan Graul, Valieri
Location: Nar Shaddaa

Xander had been captured.

And he could do nothing about it.

All he wanted to do at that moment since Hel's communication was to rush out of the shuttle, find whomever was responsible and kill them. If he had a Star Destroyer he mused he would have blown their base sky high from orbit. Maybe even send stormtroopers in to crush them.

Sadly he wasn't in a Star Destroyer anymore, he was sitting in the cockpit of the shuttle listening to the group's comm channel for updates. Azzurri hadn't come back yet about what was going on, perhaps he himself was concerned about what he was hearing.

The one comforting thing however was that Xander was in good hands with Hel. And it seemed that Bellorum and Plo were on the case too. No doubt Plo would be raising hell as his daughter was involved too. However he expected Plo to get the job done more than Bellorum.

Aryan meanwhile had been involved in a scrap and had been brought back aboard, it looked like he had as much fun as Jerod had with his drug fueled fun. And Jerod must look a sight with his new archeologist costume. Perhaps they could both privately share a laugh together if Aryan felt up to it, might cheer the man up after all that had happened.

He was going to go stir crazy if he sat in the cockpit any longer so he decided to go and possibly grab something to eat or drink. Whilst there he met Aryan’s caregiver Valieri. She asked if she could get him anything and then handed a cup of steaming caf to him even though he had not asked but he was grateful for the pick me up. And she also stated that Aryan was on the case as well and he could hear mutterings going on from the cabin she was gesturing to.

“I am worried about Xander of course” Lennox said “However he is in the best hands with Lady Hel, and I am sure she will let nothing bad happen to him. Plus I wonder how they would be able to handle two Force sensitives” he smirked a little “They may get a nasty surprise”

“The pilot has already been instructed to be ready to go, I guess when they are found we will head there to pick them and the others up if they find them. I have my former Lieutenant Azzurri on the comms aboard Dark Dreamer and i’m sure if he hears anything he’ll let us know” Jerod sighed “It has become difficult since Cleo died, to look after a son who is strong in the Force, he doesn't have a mother figure anymore and I certainly wouldn't call myself a father figure either. My only hope is that everyone comes out in one piece”

He gestured to the cabin “Let’s see what Aryan has got” and perhaps with both of them they could come up with an answer.

Lennox felt pleased that Aryan was on the case too, it would help stimulate his brain and perhaps give him a bit of respite from his thoughts. Jerod could not fathom how bad it was to lose your mind basically. He entered the cabin and gave Aryan a small smile.

“Hello Aryan he said, cup of caf in one hand looking at ease “I hear from Valieri that you have been helping out in trying to find who took Xander and Hel. What have you found so far?”

The sudden assertion from the unfamiliar voice caused Aryan to visibly flinch. He lost all concentration as his chin snapped toward the doorway to observe the newcomer, the datapad slipping precariously from his grip. It took him another moment to fully realize that the man standing before him was Admiral Jerod, but that did very little to alleviate his concerns.

One of the few things he could recall about the Admiral – the only thing he could associate him with – was his leadership position. They had both been leaders prior to his injury. Jerod had remained in that role to take command of the Dark Dreamer, and Aryan...well, he wasn’t sure where he fit anymore. How was he supposed to relate to this man, who was once a close colleague, when he was so uncertain of his path going forward and couldn’t even properly express himself? That was why he had shied away from interacting with Jerod, or anyone else he perceived as an outsider. It wasn’t personal. They were simply incapable of understanding his circumstances, and he didn’t want them to witness his vulnerabilities.

Nor did he want their pity.

Aryan could already feel a pressing urgency to disengage from the situation, a natural reaction to the mounting anxiety that was weighing heavily upon him. This manifested itself physically through his erratic movements as he attempted to retrieve the fallen datapad. In his struggling, his right arm also folded unnaturally against his chest, his fingers closing around his thumb and the wrist curling in toward his armpit in a spastic flexion.

“Uhh, I...um,” Aryan stammered aimlessly, his blue-gray eyes shifting from Jerod to frantically search the doorway for any sign that the caregiver was on her way to rescue him. When he couldn’t immediately track her down, he inhaled shakily and uttered a quiet curse under his breath. Fortunately, he found some relief when his good hand brushed against the wayward datapad near his left leg.

Without uttering another word, Aryan gripped it tightly and held it out for Jerod to take and read at his convenience. Hopefully it would be enough to satisfy the man’s inquiry without him having to explain every detail.

Valieri was happy for the opportunity of someone to interact with her patient. He’s kept to himself for far too long and resisted any social setting. She was convinced he needed to break the ice and be around more individuals again.

Once Valieri had assembled a plate of small sandwiches, she brought them into the cabin. Immediately she noted Aryan’s right arm bent and his hand pulled in tight. The caregiver smiled and sat down the plate on a side table that was close to both men to reach, “I prepared a light snack for us, Did you share your thoughts on the kidnapping with Jerod?”

Valieri picked up a small duffel and dug around inside to find the brace Aryan has up until now . She silently thanked Jerod for showing up when he did as she slipped the brace on Aryan’s hand and secure the straps into place. “That should help your typing a little,” she smiled and took a sandwich.

It was sad to see such a proud man, a man that had been such an important politician, scheming and making sure he could use all his wits to get to the top so frail and depressed. It seemed that he wanted to get away from Jerod and it seemed he was searching for someone, probably Valieri.

Lennox knew he had to be careful here, usually what he would ask is for people to get to the point. He didn't like people faffing about with semantics, it was best to say what you had to say. With Arya he couldn't do that but he couldn't treat him as if he was glass, he had to treat him as a normal human being, not an object. He let him Aryan retrieve the datapad without helping him, it would be best to let Aryan do things himself otherwise he may resent Lennox helping out.

He kept the smile on his face, still looking welcoming as the caregiver returned with sandwiches. He said his thanks and gratefully took one and ate it, it felt good to fill his stomach again after being drugged, perhaps it would stop his stomach rumbling.

“Not verbally” he said to the caregiver gently taking the datapad from Aryan “but let’s see what’s he’s found here….”

It looked like Aryan had been looking at crime syndicates with links to the slave trade, and several syndicates had been highlighted on the list. Some Lennx had heard of during his days in the Empire. Whoever wanted both Hel and Xander obviously wanted them both to sell on, perhaps Hel as a prostitute, Xander to be sold on as a child slave. And if there was one thing Jerod hated it was people who dealt in child slaves and he would kill anyone who tried to sell Xander on.

Black Sun, Karazak Slavers Cooperative and the Zygerrian Slavers Guild were familiar to him. And no doubt the Empire even did business with these syndicates. These however were down towards the bottom of the list, these were big groups and perhaps this would be too small fry for them.

However the Exchange, the Shadow Syndicate and the Nar Shaddaa Labor Alliance he was not so familiar with. These sounded like gangs that operated locally or at least close by.

He handed the datapad back to Aryan “These three are interesting choices, I would like to hear your opinion on why you chose these three and what information you used to deduce that these syndicates could be involved”

Slumping against the pillows nestled at his back, Aryan eyed the former Admiral uneasily as he accepted the datapad from his proffered hand and immediately allowed it to drop back to the makeshift desk. While caregiver’s presence had certainly helped to mitigate his anxiety, he still felt reluctant to open up completely and engage in a full conversation.

As a result, he found little ways to stall, such as muttering curses and quiet misgivings about the hand brace she had affixed to his weakened limb, fussing about the consistency of the caf, and vehemently refusing to partake of the sandwiches she had prepared for them.

That last one drew an admonishing look from the caregiver, and Aryan quickly realized that he had taken things too far. Again, it was all about his ability to read the reactions of those around him to determine whether he was acting inappropriately. It provided him with a gauge to keep himself grounded in reality and to make any proper adjustments.

In this case, he knew they were waiting for an answer; he could not avoid the issue any longer, especially with how dire it was. This was about the safety of both Jerod’s son and Haretisch’s daughter.

Issuing a sigh, Aryan straightened and idly began to pick at the straps of his hand brace as he spoke.

“Uh, the...Hutt...umm, Hutt Cartel...enforce...Nar Shaa,” he started slowly, inclining his chin to watch the caregiver before gathering the courage to meet Jerod’s gaze. “Hutt, uh...run...also, umm...Shadow...Synn--err, Syndicate...leader. Part...uh, three...part...erm, but....two...import.” He paused here to stop fiddling with the brace to hold up two fingers. “Only...import. Nar Shaa...Labor...Alli--Alliance...Exchange. Shadow...uh, run...err--relegate...out...slave--slaving...Nar Shaa...Labor...and, uh...Exchange...look...join, umm...maybe. All...linked, uh...work...under--erm, Shadow...Hutt. Stay--station…here.”

Aryan drove his index finger into the desktop to emphasize his point.

“That’s wonderful, Aryan,” Valieri exclaimed. He didn’t realize she was more pleased that he was carrying on a conversation with someone besides herself or the doctor.

“We have to find them,” she glanced at Jerod, “I don’t know your son well, but I’ve spent time with Hel and she’s such a clever girl. She’d been programming a droid to help Aryan improve his speech before all this.” While speaking, she placed a sandwich on a napkin at the side of the lap desk, she could be just as stubborn as Aryan.

“How old is Xander?” Valieri asked Jerod.

Aryan it seemed had picked on two of them which he felt were important the Exchange and the Nar Shaddaa Labor Alliance, well that was Jerod's take on his ramblings. The Hutts were in control of the planet and also ran the Shadow Syndicate but it had been discounted. Had the Shadow Syndicate stopped slaving then, Lennox wasn't sure.

"Thank you Aryan" he replied "It's a start at least" he kept the smile on his face despite the concern he was feeling regarding his son and Hel. Usually his stoic nature would take over and he would show no emotion at all. However it was a different time now, why not a different him?.

He took a sip of his caf "We still don't have all the answers as to why they chose Hel and Xander in the first place. I don't know whether you could find any information about their hangouts whether anything has been broadcast, anything at all that can help us and the others to find them"

In answer to Valieri he said "He's nearly six now, and such a liitle monster, I don't know where he gets that from" he chuckled "Hel will protect him no matter what, I don't know her very well but I can see she is a good and caring young woman. You never know perhaps Xander may trust her, I hope he does"

His comlink then began to bleep for attention. He wondered whether it was Azzurri with some news but to his surprise it was Plo.

“Captain, get to the shuttle if you’re not already, and get here now. Follow the beacon from Hel’s signal. Your son’s been kidnapped. Land in the street for all I care, we have a captive who can’t walk far and I’m not carrying him to the spaceport.”

Blunt and to the point, that was the former Sith's style.

"Yes sir, I am aboard with Aryan and Valieri the caregiver. I heard over the group channel that both he and Hl had been kidnapped we will make our way to you now. Aryan has found some information that could link this kidnapping to a crime syndicate, either the Exchange or the Nar Shaddaa Labor Alliance."

He looked over to Aryan and Valieri hoping he had that right. Hopefully the captive could share some more light.

With a sharp intake of breath, Aryan scowled at Jerod when he realized that the other man’s explanation did not correspond with what he had said, or rather...what he had been trying to say. Once again, his inability to properly convey his thoughts, and the failure of those around him to fully comprehend his words, continued to hinder his progress. It left him feeling inadequate and played heavily into his insecurities. As a result, a raspy growl issued from deep in his throat as a means to vent his mounting frustration.

“No! Not...uh...no, right,” Aryangrumbled with a harried sigh, pushing himself toward the edge of the bed to grab Jerod’s attention. At some point during the exchange, he had also conceded to the caregiver's persistence and took the offered sandwich from the napkin, but now he curled his fist around it and smashed it in the midst of his excitement.

“Shadow, uh...Sin--err, Syndi--cate...over--uh, overlap…all!” He gesticulated wildly with his good hand to signify the Syndicate’s importance. “Hutt...Cartel...and, uh...LaborAlly...both--uh...under...work--err, together...team,uhh...members...under, umm--Shadow. Exchange...big, uh--big...force...Outer Rim. They, uh...join--no, try...join...Shadow. Neg--uh, negoh--shhee--talk terms...but,uh...struggle. They...fight, uh...turf. Both...big, umm...sus--suspects.”

Pursing his lips, Aryan leaned back and studied Jerod’s face closely for any signs of comprehension. Was it enough to break through?

TAG: @Lady Belligerent , @Darth_wanderguard

 

Darth Cocytus

Cocytus frowned when the Palpatine AI requested to look back at the past of Afen Te. His own past that he swore to cut off and dispose of after ritualistic Parricide and rebirth. All that was before becoming Darth Cocytus was dead and gone, left to be forgotten in a dead universe.

'I'm afraid I do not recall the on goings of Kamino in Afen Te's time. They have had no meaning to me for a long time.' Cocytus replied to his master. However he then paused and pondered on something before that thin smile returned to his face. 'That being said, I do recall Afen Te's parents speaking of an ancestor… One who lived in this time and had similar gifts that he had.'

Darth Cocytus thought about it some more and nodded. 'Yes… There should be at least one other kominoan with the gift to embrace the force. I do not doubt that he will prove quite useful to us. What do you think master?'

@Sinrebirth


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IC: Azeth Drost
In-route to Kamino

Drost centered himself, slowing his breathing to a slow, rhythmic cadence. In, and out. Calm, peaceful. Some tiny part of him found it ironic that he still fell back on his old Jedi meditation teachings, even down to the tiny rituals, such as placing his lightsaber in front of him, the kneeling position, even the breathing exercises were the same. It was familiar, nostalgic even.. But those days were gone now. The weakness had been purged, replaced by empowerment which could only be obtained through rage. The Jedi was gone, now, there was only Sith.

Drost's outward vision slowly decreased, forming together into a narrow tunnel, before disappearing altogether. His mind, always restless, slowed as well, drifting effortlessly between ideas and topics. Yet, curiously, the more he drifted inwards, the clearer a particular memory became, one he hadn't relived in a very long time..

He was cold, always cold. A tattered cloak covered in grime and soot covered his gaunt form, a thin veil against the outside world. Yellowed bandages dug into his vestigial eyes, a disguise born out of terrified necessity, for he was being hunted. Always hunted. The huddled masses of the mega-city were his only means of protection, but venturing out into them exposed him to the hunters. The Jedi.

He clutched his cloak tighter, turning a corner sharply. Three years. Three long years he had been hunted by them, forced to degrade himself on countless occasion to escape their clutches. Nothing was too debase, too abhorrent for him to do. For he had already lost everything.. A little dirt and grime couldn't make him feel any worse.. He turned another corner, ducking into a dingy tavern. For the thee months, he had found refuge on the Hutt moon of Nar Shaddaa, truly his rock bottom. Poisonous thoughts of despair and self-hatred clouded his every action, pushing himself ever further into the darkness of the force.

For he had once been a Jedi himself, cloaked in the beauty of the light. Now, he wallowed in self-pity, surrounded by drunken slavers and addicts, left alone to rot by his own actions. When he first arrived on the moon, he had forced himself to keep up-to-date on the war between the Jedi and the Sith, relishing in every tale of Sith victory, and cringing at their every defeat. But that was six months ago. The two sides had been at a stalemate for months, and each report was filled with more hearsay than actual truths these days. Finding himself credit-less once again, he snagged the mugs from a nearby table, careful to not disturb the two low-lifes who were drunkenly snoring.

He drained the mugs, pushing down the every-present feelings of revulsion. Those feelings were to be buried, to be relied upon at a later date. Now, he just wanted to dull the paralyzing fear always tugging at his mind with the disgusting swill this bar called alcohol, and sleep..

He perked up when he heard a black-cloaked man sighing loudly from across the room. There was a loud commotion rising from around the sabacc table. "Alright! Alright! I apologize for not being great at the game. Sheesh. I use my cards to tell fortunes. But if you want... I can wager the coordinates to a Sith Temple in the Unknown Regions. It's a secret that has been passed around the Underworld since the first days of the Sith... and I have them. Care to wager?" There had been a grunt around the table, scorn; disbelief, and then a single Umbaran that said. "And what if they are fake? We can hardly send someone to the Unknown Regions. We could be killed getting there." The cloaked man, his face completely hidden, scoffed. "I've been there, and have recordings too. I will supply them. Good enough?"

Drost slowly rose to his feet, shrouding himself in darkness as he moved closer to the sabacc table. He was intrigued, desperate, more accurately. Finally, a way out...

For the next hour, Drost would carefully influence the game through tiny manipulations of the force. He needed the stranger to lose; to give up his secret.

He awoke to be covered in sweat, his heart threatening to burst out of his chest. No... no no no no no no no no no no no NO!! Drost jumped to his feet, wildly pacing the cramped confines of the room, scratching at his hair incessantly. It was all a trap! It was all planned! Long dormant memories began flooding forwards, tiny, insignificant details all forming together, revealing a hidden, daunting truth. That man, that thing not only knew who Drost was, but had plans for him. The man was an oddity, Drost distinctly remembered feeling nothing from him during the sabacc game, which he had always rationalized as simply fried nerves, or the buzz of alcohol. But now he saw the truth. He was hiding from me! ME! But why did he send me to that blasted temple? What reason did he need of me, not only then, but a thousand years into the future?!

He gaze darted around the room, panicked sweat dripping from his forehead. That feeling of crushing dread had returned once more, as powerful as ever. Not since hearing those stone locks latch into place, sealing him inside that infernal tomb had he felt so small, so insignificant, so powerless. Bedlam. It all comes back to Bedlam..

Drost exited the room in a slow shamble, turning the corner and walking out into the hallway. Why can't I just be left alone..? He turned another corner, walking towards the ship's refresher..


Tag: @Sinrebirth , @Mitth_Fisto

 

IC: Darth Kronos and Esmerelda

The taste of lip gloss woke woke him up suddenly, and Kronos was greeted to the sight of Esme's eyes staring inquisitively at him. She lay close to him, with his left arm wrapped around her as she turned over to comfortably meet his eyes.

"Hey-" he began, but he was soon interrupted by a question of her own. Her tone gave the impression of mock-seriousness, but the fact that she even asked that question meant she noticed something about his behavior last night. Or afternoon. Or whenever they fell asleep. Regardless, it confirmed he wasn't as subtle as he thought.

"It wasn't anything important," he lied. "Just thinking about the kids is all." A partial truth.

The last thing he wanted was to start an argument. Not right now, before such an important mission for them. There was a time and place for this conversation, and it wasn't now.

He gave her a quick kiss on the cheek to cement its unimportance.

Esmerelda enjoyed the kiss; she flowed into it, into him, and allowed it to overtake her and him. Kissing was Cassian was like something deep and yet sweet, more ocean than puddle; it spoke of his depth, more often than not hidden beneath what seemed to be calm and stoic seas.

In searching for that spark of him, one could become lost, and Esme found that she enjoyed being lost within him, even though there were times when it would be fun to not have to pull him and his emotions into the light of day.

Like now.

Notwithstanding the kiss, she drew back and simply smiled sweetly - sarcastically so - at him and said, eyes unerring.

“And?”

A kiss could not break her train of enquiry. But it had been fun to let him think it had.

Kronos recoiled for a bit, unsure of how to respond. He had hoped his flippant comment would have been enough for her to drop the subject, but alas.

"It's just," he started, trying to think of something convincing enough to fill the place of his actual issue. "What if we find them, but we don't like what we see? What happens then?"

A genuine concern of his. But not the concern.

Esme blinked. She hadn’t thought about that. All she had were the flashes of memory, of the babies being taken, of her losing them, of being inconsolable.

All she had thought about was reuniting with them. With holding them in her arms, of rebuilding the connection she had shared with them in her womb. Not once had she wondered what had happened since then.

Her emotions overwhelmed her, a psychic wound that would consume Kronos and reach out to Cocytus, Drostand Soliloquy, before threatening to cause the yacht itself to vanish into the emotional void which had just opened in Esme like a gravity singularity.

She began to shake.

Kronos looked flabbergasted. He hadn't intended for her to react like that at all.

Her pain consumed him in that moment, and it was far worse than he had ever imagined. He knew of her general feelings towards this, of course, but he had never thought it was so powerful and... painful. It reached through him within the Force, and it became overwhelming too quickly.

As she shook, Kronos resorted to the only thing he thought could possibly make her feel better.

He hugged her.

She vanished into her void, and wordlessly collapsed into his arms, sobbing. There was nothing else she could say, but tiredness began to catch at her, and Kronos would feel her starting to cry herself to sleep, exhaustion nibbling at the woman he loved.

The void seeped into his heart, little by little.

That void consumed him.

As she collapsed into his arms, wordlessly, all he could feel was remorse, guilt, and shame, but he couldn't bring himself to tell her the truth.

All he did was gently caress her wet face, in hopes of keeping her awake, as he, too, began to cry.

TAG: @Sinrebirth

 

IC: Serapis
Hapes sector

The Serapis droid was observing the map when Ser@pis laid it on him.

My friend, you unfortunately the subject of an experiment of mine, to recreate a scenario that I have researched. There is a traitor among you, and although I appreciate that there is a mental faculty lacking from you... you get to know that there are traitors, but they do not get to know that you know. They shall merely seek a traitor, or perhaps be one. If you do not succeed in discovering the truth, then one of the other teams may. I have faith in you, my friend. I am sorry to have to drop this on you. We are in peril, and as much as I need to project that we are poised to lay the groundwork for our triumph, we have less to work with than ever before.

He sat and thought, "What the kriff am I to do with this? A traitor among Sith is like having an actor in a Corellian wrestling match. They're all traitors!" He considered his situation and then decided the only thing he could do was watch and waiBOOM!

He was interrupted in his consideration with the ship rocking violently followed by an announcement of a hull breach. He reactivated the droid from low-power mode and got up off the floor. Asking the droid to do a quick self-check, he found what he expected: fully functional. These things, albeit old, were very, very tough.

He activated the door and stepped out just in time to see Renn and Helinith enter their one-person escape pods. Though he had to smile at the term "tree-boy," he became even more concerned when he noted, first, there was one pod left and, second, that he didn't see Bo.

It's possible he had already left, but needed to check. He went to Bo's quarters and activated the door.

Tags: @Sinrebirth, @darthhelinith, @Snokers, @darthbernael