Star Wars New Sith Trials I *Voted Best RPG Summer 2016*

IC: Darth Hesper
The Temple at Moraband

The fabric of the meld ripped.

Hesper almost swore she could hear a deafening rrrrrrrrrrrrip throughout the Temple as suddenly there appeared to be an explosion, followed by a crashing wave of accomplishment and the strange sense that Emperor Insipid's essence had departed its corporeal form. The Wrath of Vader had been destroyed, Hesper knew. It was done. And so she collapsed, retracting her Force thread from what was left of the meld, toppling forward to the cool floor of the hangar with a hoarse whimper of exhaustion. Her cheek touched the floor as she curled in on herself and felt the burn of sudden disconnection course throughout her small frame as she once again became alone in her mind.

They had... won. This she could call a victory. Abeloth and the Mnggal-mnggal had been done away with, and the Temple reclaimed. Coruscant had been bested, and the Senate destroyed. The scales had tipped in their favor in the very last moments. The gravity of it all struck Hesper with the weight of an anvil and knocked her breath out of her chest. Victory. Such sweet victory! The first tear of many escaped the corner of Hesper's eye and rolled to the duracrete floor. She heaved a deep, shuddering breath. For Hesper, at times it seemed like victory was just the avoidance of loss, but this was a true and powerful victory, achieved with the combined strength of many. And she had been one of the many. Another tear rolled.

Oh Naren, you would never have understood this, she thought to herself as her tears escalated into sobs against the floor. Great waves of relief and pride sloughed off her body in the form of wracking, violent sobs. Triumph! Ascendancy! Though her journey had barely begun, already Hesper had tasted such a dominion. She would want more. She would need more. As the thought of how different her life would have been had she had this degree power when her child was killed, her sobs modulated into wild, delirious laughter. What a thought that was! Would it have really changed anything?

Hesper crumbled into hysterics. Whether from extreme exhaustion, delirium, or sheer manic giddiness was unclear. Two days ago, only the blood of a few had been on her hands; now the blood of thousands was on her hands. The blood of the entire Senate and all the Moffs. What a sweet, sweet revenge she had on them all. They were now just a bitter aftertaste, a passing thought to her—all the pain they had caused her had been redressed. Ha! Hesper turned on the floor, pressing her hands to the duracrete and tucking her knees under herself. She pushed herself up from the floor and knelt for a moment, hands on her knees as she continued to shake with unhinged, neurotic laughter. Not even Hesper knew what was going through her own mind at that moment; she was just so utterly spent. Insipid had made efforts to infuse her with new energy, only for her to turn around and throw it all back at him. Albeit it was for the victory, the exhaustion was beginning to break her just slightly.

The laughter subsided and gave way to tears again; what was she doing here? No, not what, but why was she here?

“Power,” Hesper muttered quietly, almost voicelessly, swiping away a tear. “I am here so I can have the power to never lose, ever again.” She pushed herself to her feet, and brushed off the knees of her pants. Straightening, Hesper heaved a small sigh. She knew she was already well on her way to higher power. The Sith had been victorious today; the next challenge would be maintaining control. Can we? Hesper wondered as she wound her way out of the disarray of the hangar and into the Temple proper, feeling the eyes of many, many technicians and mechanics spooked by her deranged outburst.

- - -

Hesper had spoken to no one after she had disembarked the escape pod, only going directly to her chambers and locking the door. Her chambers probably looked unlike any of the others’— it was a smallish room, and Hesper had decorated it as chicly as she would have were it a spacious flat in upper Coruscant. A plush, blood red circular carpet lay on the floor, and a large statement painting of red and blacks hung on the wall facing the door, hanging above Hesper’s bed like a highly placed headboard. Twin statuettes flanked either side of the bed, against the wall, and on both sides of the room were shelves—they were still empty, and all of Hesper’s library was in crates on the floor beside the door. The room was very nearly symmetrical, and the orderliness instilled Hesper with a sense of easy quietness.

The ruckus at the Temple had knocked a few of her things over, but there wasn’t any significant damage, thankfully. Heaving a great, tired sigh, Hesper unloaded all her weaponry onto her bed and stripped out of her long coat. She righted one of the short bronzium statuettes beside her bed that had fallen—one of her few recent works—before heading straight for her ‘fresher, pulling off the rest of her clothes as she went. She was deserving of a nice, hot shower.

Hesper scrubbed at her skin with vigor, feeling refreshed as she watched the crusty blood, dirt and grime wash away down the drain. Emerging clean and once again neatly groomed, Hesper crawled into her bed and almost instantly dropped into a deep, deep sleep.

The day following the victories at Coruscant and Moraband Hesper spent still barricaded in her chambers, sleeping on and off throughout the day. She only left her room late in the evening that day to steal away unseen to the kitchens for a generous hunk of bread and a few bites of cheese and a piece of fruit. As she slipped back to her chambers with her fruit in hand, its juice dribbling down her forearm as she dodged lingering debris and ruin from the invasion, Hesper wondered about the other Sith who had been in the battle; surely many of them had been injured. She knew for certain that Titus had been, and she had heard a lot of noise from medics rushing around in the hallways in the brief periods of wakefulness Hesper had throughout the day. Closing her door behind herself and pressing the lock button, Hesper finished her fruit and quickly washed her hands before crawling back into bed again.

- - -

The battles at Coruscant and Moraband seemed like distant long-ago happenings, and Mnggal-mnggal and Abeloth like ancient mythological stories, on the next morning when Hesper arose in the early hours feeling hyper alert and incredibly rested. She washed her face and sat on her bed, taking her lightsaber into her hands. Mnggal-mnggal had drained it; she pressed the activation switch, and the blade flickered weakly to life before flickering out. Hesper briefly rubbed her forehead.

Drawing a deep breath and straightening her back, Hesper focused her energy on the saber in her hands, reaching out to it with the Force with intentions to repair it. She soon slipped into a deep meditation, lightsaber hovering before her, pulling itself apart and putting itself back together as Hesper went about repairs, imbuing her crystal with the power that had been taken from it. This took her the entirety of the morning, and lasted partially into the afternoon; it was early afternoon when she finished, at last releasing the lightsaber and sighing with light fatigue. She looked at the stylish chrono on the wall. The banquet would be held soon.

Standing from her bed and padding over to her wardrobe, Hesper threw open its doors and stood before it with her fists planted on her hips. She had only saved a small portion of the wardrobe she’d had on Coruscant, keeping only the pieces she felt she would need; nearly everything that was practical she’d kept, but there were a few evening gowns and formal attire that she’d held onto. Mostly garments she had made herself. Hesper heaved a sigh. It was almost as if she’d joined the Sith in order to avoid ever having to go to irksome parties, yet here she was again, having to pick out something to wear to a party.


She had just grabbed out several options from the closet when there was a knock on her door—already irritated with having to engage with other sentients, Hesper straightened out the silk lounging robe she was wearing, smoothed down her hair, and unlocked and opened the door.

Hesper could hardly hide her displeasure as she came face to face with her visitor. It was Aryan Graul.

TAG: HanSolo29 (hit me up for a combo?), not sure if anyone else?

 

IC- Darth Arach
Moraband, Sith Temple, Courtyard

A flash of warning.....

A small flurry of bolts of light aimed for unarmored flesh.....

A blood- orange blade weaved a protective barrier. The final bolt met the blade too close for comfort above the young woman's heart.

With a grunt of dissatisfaction, Arach twisted her wrist. A split- second later, the ring of remotes surrounding her shut off. Slowly and carefully, she levitated them to the ground.

She stood still a few more seconds, breathing heavily, then relaxed her stiff stance and walked off to the side.

Since the battle a couple days ago, Arach spent as much free time as she could with the remotes, allowing herself to vent her excess fury and, if she were being truely honest with herself, grief.

She was infuriated over the invaders, yes. Why shouldn't she be? They came to her home and nearly destroyed her family. Yes, the Sith won, but not without consequences.

From these consequences, Arach's grief stemmed. Specifically, the fate of Octavious.

Yes, she herself had been tempted to turn traitor, but didn't. She glanced down at the ring still on her finger, lips twisting into a faint half- smile. She had felt that one's death, too. At least she got something from it.

Her mood sobered. Still...

What's done was done.

Blocking off the sadness, she returned to the center of the ring. Her anger returning full force.

With another twist of her wrist, the remotes came back online.

"Same program, but faster," she ordered.

The droids waited a second, the swarmed around her, rapidly firing blaster bolts on full power as they went.

Arach activated her saber at the last second and forgot everything but her rage and the glowing bolts of death.

Tag: No one (?)

 

IC: Radian T'enity
Morraband; Sith Temple

The Jedi stood silently in the heart of the darkness, observing passers by carefully, prodding the force around him with care. He was draped in a formal cloak, cleaner and more pristine than the one he often wore during battles. It was a pure white robe, with his lightsaber hanging on a light grey belt, and his hood up, draped over his face concealing his upper features. He stood blatantly apart from the traditionally darker attire of the Sith.

When simply looking upon the sandy plains one would expect this planet to be unbearably hot, like the kinds of Tattoine, or Jakku, but all the Mirialan felt was cold. Perhaps it was simply his force awareness taking over his physical observations, but the home world of the Sith seemed far different than he expected. He didn't like it, he didn't belong here. Something was off, he just knew it, but here he was, a guest of his life long opponents.

He placed each hand in the opposing sleeve, and went into a half meditation. The Jedi was present on the request of Senator Aryan, no, not Senator anymore he corrected. It seemed, at least in the eyes of the Sith, he was the New Chancellor. And why not? He was the only surviving member of the congress. Radian supposed that made him the default leader. And at least until he heard from the Council, or someone else with higher authority, he reported to the human now. Radian wasn't sure exactly what had happened in the final hours of the battle. Chaos it seemed had dominated, and then it was over. It shouldn't have been so easy for them to defeat Abeloth, yet they had. It defied logic, and if they could do such a thing to an entity such as her, anything was possible.

His suspicions were high. It could be a trap, and Radian wasn't going to gamble in this matter. He was here for the moment, and would respect the Chancellors wishes. But he would not follow blindly. His guide, a Keshiri woman, Lenora he believed she was called, had been respectful to the Jedi so far, no threats, or hostility was sensed, and to his surprise nobody had demanded he leave his lightsaber behind. And this greatly increased his misgivings about this whole situation. The most dangerous Sith, was the one who was not easily understood.

They had came upon the Temple swiftly, though he didn't speak much during the trip. He couldn't be sure what the Sith had planned, and had to be prepared for anything.

Tags: Anyone in the vicinity, Sinrebirth

 

IC: Darth Deathy
Location: Moraband Temple, Darth Harestisch’s Kitchen
(Combo post with Darth_wanderguard)

"I eat your fear!" Darth Deathy crowed, a misshapen grin missing a couple teeth splitting her blue face. She poked the prisoner in the eye with her wet thumb, giggling. It was a hard poke that risked permanent blindness.

Deathy giggled as the prisoner screamed: "Please, milady, let me retain my sight for your services, Great One! Have mercy!"

The child's expression fell into an abrupt and sharp frown.

"It does not shut up," She pouted at her aide, tugging on the officer's thick sleeve. "Make him shut up!"

"Yes, my lady," the officer gulped, staring down at his diminutive mistress. He was reluctant as he reached into his pouch. He withdrew pincers and a knife. He looked at his unfortunate old colleague, now locked up in this dismal dungeon for his failure at the Battle of Korriban.

Deathy clapped her hands together. She loved this part the most, when their tongues were cut off! It was like when she lost a tooth, and she’d put them under her pillow for the Tongue Fairy to take! Sometimes they smelled real bad though but that was OK. They always disappeared eventually so it must be the Tongue Fairy taking them away.

"Please, milady, I beg you!" The failed officer sobbed in terror as Deathy watched, clapping and jumping and giggling, as footsteps approached and broke into her fun.

Lady Belligerent herself, Dark Lady of the Sith!

Deathy quietly pouted again as she was led away by the hand. She could only hear the Prisoner's funny screams as Belligerent took her to her chambers.

Then Dark Lord Haretisch entered. Belligerent and Haretisch talked as Deathy got lost in her own world, wiggling her little finger like it was a tongue and making a scissors motion with her other hand, giggling to herself.

"Hello there, little one," Haretisch spoke to her, breaking her thoughts.

"Hello there, Mashter!" Deathy flashed a toothy grin. "My name is Darth Deathy! I'm 8!" She held up two hands towards Haretisch, splaying her fingers to make the 8.

Deathy realized she was supposed to bow before she started talking, so she did a quick bow and looked at Haretisch's leather boots. She suddenly wondered whether he knew if leather was made of bantha skin and she wondered if the banthas could feel their flayed skin still. Did the boots feel pain? Would they scream if they were touched? She poked at them viciously just in case they did.

The Night Herald shuffled in response as she prodded. In truth, his footwear was crafted from the finest rancorleather, and meticulously shined to a glassy mirror polish. He detested scuffed boots, and over the past three days had donned a different pair with every return to the temple while the slaves applied a fresh polish to the others. He growled faintly, low in his throat, when he saw the scuff marks appearing where the little demon was jabbing her bluish fingers.

He bent slightly into a deep crouch and found himself eye level with the child. "Eight," he noted as he met her gaze. "You go to the refresher by yourself?"

Deathy paused in her poking and stood up with a smile still on her face. For a few seconds, she was taller than him! “Yep, 8!” she replied, “And I can go to the ‘fresher by myself! Usually... Sometimes a slave helps me go poopy though.” Her glowing eyes went back down to his boots again, and she almost giggled again at the thought of a furless, skinless bantha wobbling around. “Are those boots made of bantha skin?” she suddenly asked, “Can they still feel it even though-even though the banthas isn't wearing it anymore?”

Without a word, the already scant color drained from his face. The mere notion of being responsible for... for that, was less pleasant than even the thought of another scrap with Eranikus.

"Nope, I don't think they can," he answered, intent on not showing how unnerved he was. "They're Rancor leather. What about yours?" he asked. "Maybe we can get you some like mine."

Before the child could answer, another voice sounded from the edge of the room.

"Hello." The voice was tinged with curiosity.

Haretisch looked to the doorway where stood Kwea Acantha, and he straightened to his full height.

"Are you doing better, Lord Haretisch?" she asked.

"I'm great," he monotoned, before glancing back to Deathy. "Kwea, it seems you've been replaced already. This is my new apprentice, Darth uh... Deathy."

He thought for a moment, and then saw a clear out. "Why don't you show her around the temple and make sure she gets dressed for the party? I have to do something." He neglected to wait for an answer, and brushed past his former student with a smile and a pat on the shoulder as he left.

He had a guess that Kwea was in for it.

TAG: Halle Dray

 

IC: Darths Bellorum, Insipid, Haretisch & Ike

Combo post with Lady Belligerent and Sinrebirth

Bellorum met Ike in a small sitting area off the corridor adjacent to Insipid's chambers. As they had planned, she supplied glasses and he'd brought the wine. There was a lot to catch up on since what had happened after she left him unconscious with medics. Both had adventures to share, but mostly Bellorum was dying to tell Ike about Haretisch's new apprentice. It felt good to laugh and put aside the whole invasion and Abeloth aftermath.

She stretched her legs and propped her boots on an ottoman, "Look at his expression," she passed Ike a data pad with a recording from the moment Haretisch had entered her chambers.

Ike had a look and burst into laughter. 'Oh he is completely out of his depth! You are such a cathar, Bell!' Ike squeezed her arm as he laughed more, struggling to control himself.

Darth Insipid caught up with them, having exchanged a few words with a slave who was in-fact an undercover journalist. It was fairly hard to get them to reach anywhere without being accosted. Thus the horror of being a celebrity.

The Emperor had actually responded politely, and asked the Rodian to dress properly and attend the feast with their credentials. Even if the news channel wasn't vetted by Sith Security, the Emperor approved of the determination of the man and the SS would listen.

As such his mind was quite elsewhere when he saw the datapad and Ike wordlessly handed it to him. Insipid actually giggled in a very un-Emperor-like moment, and struggled to regain his composure.

He allowed a pulse of amusement to reach the Night Herald, and then guided the two of them back into his room. It wouldn't do for the Empire to see how angry Darth Haretisch could get.

The Emperor frowned briefly when he felt something awry. He fished into his pocket. The amulet that Darth Hesper had recovered from Darth Re'van had vanished. How curious.

No, wait, he wasn't being troubled by that - what was it?

In Bellorum's mind, it was good to get back to business. Their 'downtime' had been full of tying up loose ends, repairs, and for some - healing. But, she was anxious to address the item currently in her pocket. Soa had peeked inside the holocron and told her all she needed to know, they needed to decide what to do with it. The darn thing was probably harmless, but they couldn't take any chances.

She walked into Insipid's newly redecorated chambers and couldn't resist smiling. It was magnificent, a work of art. She and Ike had spared no expense, well not their expense...but still. Jwob had done well picking it all up and getting the priceless antiquities to the Temple undamaged.

Haretisch followed, walking into the room a short moment later - posture unusually straight as though he were deflated and visibly compensating for it. Ike and Bellorum caught a hateful glare as he noticed an echo of mischief in each expression. "Don't even talk to me," he started, before turning to Insipid. "I assume we're to settle what exactly this holocron is all about?" He asked, referring to the artifact Bellorum had unexpectedly found alongside the one he had actually sent her to retrieve. The important one - the one he had sent her for - was safely and secretly in his possession once again, the cover story told to Ike and Insipid being that there was only one holocron; the one about which they were now convening.

"It's a curious thing, the way it simply showed up on my desk when I returned from Lower Valley. I hadn't the time to view it before the battle began, but I assumed it important and thus had the Dawn Herald retrieve it. What was inside?"

Ike raised a finger. 'Hang on now, shouldn't we ask who is babysitting? We can't expect the Night Herald to abandon his responsibilities.'

The Emperor looked to his love. It was a baleful glare. 'We do need to get to business.' Insipid turned back to Bellorum, conscious that she may have found this child prodigy simply to divert Haretisch from wider plays; his former apprentice was not to be trifled with. 'After all, Haretisch doesn't want to miss his child's naptime.'

The man grinned. 'Alright, alright.' With a focus, he shooed Ike off, the man heading to the chest to retrieve the other item. 'We've had a lot of foes, Holocrons and spirits reappear in the last 72 hours. Soa, Ruin and Kalara - even though that amulet has vanished - Nihl, Talon, not to count the actual Pantheon. I don't especially want anymore surprised and a sudden Holocron appearing is a bother.'

Insipid eyed Haretisch. 'Especially when we agreed to share all the Holocrons.'

"We're sharing it now, aren't we?" Haretisch responded, his expression unreadable.

"Well," Bellorum interjected, "let's go ahead and unwrap the surprise." She removed the plain holocron from her pocket, it didn't appear special or decorative. Soa's fluctuated in temperature and shade, it was aesthetically pleasing. This one gave her a sense of disgust, though that was for good reason. She already knew what they would find. With a click, it opened and a familiar projection filled the center of the room.

Surprise flooded through Darth Insipid. It couldn't be. It was. But it couldn't be. How in the Nine Corellian Hells had -

"Greetings, Lord Haretisch," a harsh rasp filled every ear. "I am, as always, the one and true Emperor of the stars, immortal god of the Sith-"

"Darth Dreadwar," Haretisch pinched the bridge of his nose and clenched his eyes in exasperation. This wasn't a holocron at all. It was a prerecorded message.

"By now I am certain that all of my contingencies have been activated - that Lady Viscretus has taken command as my Empress and Steward, and that you along with Insipid and Bellorum and all the other traitors have been driven from Moraband."

"What-" Haretisch started in confusion, before lapsing once again into silence as the message droned on.

"-The great manipulator, you see. I have been preparing for a situation such as this from the very beginning. One level higher do I play, Shadow Hand-"

"I'm not imagining this, am I?" the Night Herald blinked again, looking to each of the others in the room.

"-eternal and omnipresent am I, an immortal deity, and never shall you know peace. My power base extends farther and deeper than you can fathom, little Shadow Hand of mine-"

Bellorum had heard enough, her voice rose in a crescendo as she spoke, "I don't know about you two, but - I. Am. Sick. Of. His. Rhetoric!" Waving her hands, she summoned a raging storm of brimstone that was focused on the wannabe holocron. Her eyes widened as she continued to summon more and more fiery swirls. They danced around the room in a brilliant display and reduced the crystal object to ash, finally silencing the voice.

As the tendrils danced across the room, they caught tapestry and priceless upholstered furnishings with their trails of fire.

She didn't care, that voice was still echoing in her mind, spinning it's lies. For a moment she was reminded of the message on the datapad in her pocket, which made her want to crush and burn the datapad as well.

Insipid blinked at his tapestries; not blaming her for the reaction. 'Bloody man-child, still being a pain but nothing more. The eternal pain in the backside.' With a gesture he flexed to smite the flames. Ike quipped. 'And not the good kind of pain in the backside either.'

'Hilarious,' sniped Insipid. 'I'll catch up with you later.' With that he dismissed Ike who huffed slightly but Insipid gave him a soft and almost pleading smile.

'I'll be outside.'

The Emperor turned back to the others as he left, shrugging visibily. 'We will simply need to brief the High Lords on the potential for Dreadwad to leave behind toys to annoy. Nothing more.'

Insipid considered this mildly beneath them. The former Emperor was former. He simply needed to let go. These contrivances were more confusing than concerning, purely revealing how utterly insane the man was. Insipid did however levitate his own part of business to them. The tiara containing Darth Ardeur.

He smashed it for effect.

'Ardeur's gone. Left it. Wandered off.' Insipid did not seemed perturbed. 'I am sure she will pop up where we least require it.'

He gestured with his hand, to one, then the other, palm up as he sat on the end of the bed. 'Next piece of business before we move on to the last mission?'

The Emperor knew that the Dawn Herald needed to speak, but he also knew that Lord Haretisch had his dispatched a new group of Sith to Hoth simply to collect a lightsaber crystal - not necessarily one of their original planned missions, and if Insipid's information from Ike was correct, the affair had deeply frustrated Kronos and Esmerelda had potentially became a destabilising influence on the man. That was on Haretisch, not him.

Before he realised it, his hand had unconsciously moved to his lightsaber hilt. Insipid blinked his eyes and casually removed it, hoping it hadn't been noticed.

But it had been noticed, however briefly, and Haretisch casually drew back one side of his cloak so that the light would glint softly against his own lightsaber. "I wouldn't bet that we'll be left alone for long," he opined. "And now might be a good time to say I told Abeloth that we have the key."

He rose an open palm somewhat sheepishly in a preemptive attempt at justifying himself. "In my own defense, I had to throw her off balance somehow. She wants Typhojem to be the new father."

"The point is that we need to get to Mortis and finish this," he continued. "We're lucky as it is that all the High Lords survived."

Insipid blinked. 'And I gather from my spies within then Alliance that Abeloth stole the coordinates for Mortis from the Jedi there. So that information may have made it to what is left with the Pantheon too.'

The Emperor was deeply shaken by the idea of Typhojem being the Father. 'I wonder if she has found a new Son? Or Daughter?'

And why not pick me?

Ego maniac much, Aden?

He allowed himself to be amused. 'We are lucky. More than. We do indeed to move on Mortis now.'

He kept off his face that he had sent Draconis and Re'van already.

"I think they're all still smarting from the battle," Haretisch added, "but I don't see any way around it. Rousing speeches certainly aren't my craft - I leave it to you and the Dawn Herald to get the kids excited for another march. 'Once more into the fray' and all that. Manticore and Hesper and the others must be drained most of all, to say nothing of Anark's double duty as a defender of the pass. And I wonder at young Kronos, if he can still be trusted, though Bellorum would know more about that than I would, now."

She'd been quiet since destroying the crystal. But, the curious ego posturing between Insipid and Haretisch didn't go unnoticed by her. Men could be so amusing at times...

"Kronos had a visit from Abeloth just before we returned to the Temple," she replied to Haretischs' question, "he shook her off quickly, and gave me no reason why I shouldn't trust him. I'd fight beside him," she shrugged.

She glanced over at Haretisch with an eyebrow arched, "how about your former apprentice Kwea? She did well eliminating the traitor."

'Though I felt her annoyance with that over the meld.' Insipid gave Bellorum a side glance, before looking back to Haretisch.

Haretisch sighed, stiffly. He knew what she was playing at and he couldn't rightly argue. "Yes, if anyone's apprentices are to be questioned now, mine are," he conceded, though his tone was acerbic. "I'm still not sure what Octavius' motivations were but it sounds like he was made a fool of well before he lost his head. I don't think what actually happened was what he was expecting. But at least he was actually a Sith - should we talk about Robyn Shaire?" It seemed that the rule had become 'after an arrogant mistake, point out a bigger, more arrogant mistake made by Darth Dreadwar'.

Insipid wagged a finger. He had taken one of Dreadwar's apprentices under his wing and he wouldn't have her belittled. 'Lord Hesper showed that Dreadwar's choices could be redeemed. The failure was Robyn's just as much.' He also had to defend Robyn as Manticore had taken her on - and also Rozic - both of which were dead. Insipid had a soft spot for Manticore despite what he had done.

The Emperor knew this could carry on for some time. But Bellorum couldn't escape criticism either. 'Let's not forget that Darth Karking Cruor died during your mission.'

This was surprisingly fun.

Maybe they would all kill each other and save Typhojem the trouble.

Bellorum grimaced, "the loss of Lord Cruor will be sorely felt, his death occurred as I was in the depths of the fortress rescuing the Consort," she gently reminded the Emperor.

She cleared her throat, "so, we are in agreement?" Glancing to both men before continuing, "we reward those who performed exceptionally, and then we prepare to move out?"

Haretisch wished he had brought popcorn. On the one hand, it took special talent to let a Gen'Dai dark lord get himself killed. On the other, Bellorum had a point - Ike had as much propensity for getting himself into trouble as he did for losing his clothes, and both tendencies made him a liability.

"Also, the Vapid exploded on your watch and the Wrath was hijacked by a tentacled rape monster," Haretisch added. "Can't blame that on us."

He felt the tension rise and decided the time for jabs was over. "But yes, I think we're in agreement. The mountain defenders should surely be recognized at least."

Insipid placed his hands into his pockets. 'I didn't see you destroying your favourite body to get rid of said goo pest. The Wrath was Dreadwar's toy. Had the Alliance and Empire knew we had it they would have been more willing to resist.'

But the Emperor agreed with them both. 'Recognised it is. Lordships to confirm, a Dark Lord's ascension to be announced.' The Emperor smiled genially at Bellorum.

Insipid kept the tone going, building momentum. 'And then I can take point with the High Lords and seal the Keyhole -'

"No," Haretisch interjected. "Let me. You're the strategist, I'm the tactician. Let me slog through the trenches while you mind the big picture. And we don't want to risk having to crown a third Emperor inside of a week, do we?"

The Night Herald shot a subtle glance to Bellorum before shifting his gaze back to the Emperor.

"I agree," Bellorum spoke up, "with Haretisch." She thought for a moment, "Having you orchestrate will be much more effective. Let Haretisch do the dirty work," she nodded towards the Night Herald knowing he'd be insane if he wasn't rushing in with saber drawn.

"I'll take Ike and we can cover both of you from behind, we can be ready to quickly reposition once the first team has landed."

Insipid quirked his brow. It had been worth a try. 'I shall launch a feint at the Citadel with a select team including the apprentices of the High Lords so they are close by - but you are taking the child then, if I am to continue to play strategist. I don't babysit.'

The Emperor nodded. 'Once your team deals with any resistance, be it the natives or the undergrowth itself, then you can join us in the throne room to the Citadel.'

He was talking to himself more than anything. 'I want Kronos, Ravenous and the Chancellor. They have been touched most deeply by Abeloth, or are the most dangerous left alone.' They would sort out the rest between themselves, and hand out the rest of the assignments after the party. A stray thought occurred to him. 'If the Jedi wants to follow us, who gets him?'

Insipid looked pointedly at Haretisch. He doubted he would triumph in getting this. But it was worth a try.

Haretisch stared back, blank for a moment as if pretending not to hear. "Fine," he capitulated.

Insipid pouted. 'Fine,' he echoed. The Emperor stood from the bed. It was his way of ending meetings. 'Unless there is anything else?'

He personally loathed when Haretisch tuned out of the nitty-gritty. Bellorum would learn to act as go-between but then that would make her all the more powerful in their trio. Though he was Emperor, he could not lead without followers. And neither Bellorum or Haretisch were followers. They were trailblazers. And while Insipid preferred as much control as possible, both of them were less inclined, and with Haretisch that could even reach the point of spiritualism.

But this is why Insipid was a seasoned strategist, and Haretisch was a brilliant tactician. Dreadwar had overlapped with Insipid's role, but Bellorum had yet to find her immediate footing. That could be useful. He didn't want his former apprentice to get too powerful... And nor did he want her obvious connection to Haretisch to obscure his own.

Delicate.

Insipid flexed his hand and dropped his spare lightsaber down his sleeve into it. He absently fiddled with the holster under his arm. 'Do I get to dismiss you?'

"By all means," the Night Herald gave a bow. He knew what decorum meant to Insipid. As the meeting adjourned, Bellorum scowled. She'd managed to pawn the kid off and now Insipid thought he could force it back on her. She'd turned and walked out of the chambers with Haretisch following her, as soon as she heard the door close she rounded on him with her eyes blazing, "You'll take that child with you, she's your apprentice."

Haretisch was unfazed, and simply kept walking. "Sorry but no," he called over his shoulder, "what I have to do is kind of important. Can't have anyone in the way." With a grin, he rounded a corner and decided it would be safest to put some distance between himself and the Dark Lady.

TAG: No one

 

IC: Darth Syren
Sith Temple, Central Foyer Ruins

As the massive ship vanished, devoured by the fiery sun, Abeloth disintegrated and burned before them all. Their Emperor had destroyed the great celestial. It was done.

And so was she.

The intensity of a connection she would certainly never know again wrenched apart so suddenly that Syren simply collapsed to the ground, drained well beyond any attempts to right herself. She rolled to her back, her breathing labored and her overworked mind swimming with all she had just experienced. Her senses remained heightened for a moment longer as an immense wave of triumph washed over her. She was alive and they had won.

Now, exhaustion of a new level began taking over. She felt her limbs tingling with numbness and her eyelids growing heavier with each passing second. She could not fight it this time, nor did she want to. After all the unexpected turmoil of the last day or so, Syren had finally reached her limit.

The last view she would see was of the clear night sky far above. The stars did not make her feel small as they had before. Instead they now reminded her of her strength. The tiny shimmering lights quickly faded along with a small smile that had briefly appeared on her face. Slipping into blissful unconsciousness… she slept.

------------------------------------------------

1 Day Later...
Personal Quarters

Celestials. Seals. A Key. The Eye of Hoth. Abeloth. The Left-Handed Lord.

A string of words, both known and unknown suddenly flew through Syren’s thoughts, stirring her awake. She could sense a small prickle of unease beginning to take hold in the back of her mind…. NO. Groaning in protest, she defiantly shoved her worries someplace deep down, burying them. She was quite simply not in the mood to deal with a resurgence of panic or dread. Even as the hazy memory of recent events came back to her, Syren chose to push them aside instead fanning the flames of anxiety. You cannot examine chaos, it just is and so she let it be.

Slowly opening her eyes, she turned and waved on a small light that sent a soft glow over the small space that was her quarters. Shifting up onto her elbow, there was a notable stiffness from her wounded shoulder. Glancing down at the thoroughly bandaged joint, Syren was unable to hide a mischievous grin. Eranikus, you bastard. Her final image of the grey monster perishing beneath a storm of artillery fire and collapsing stone crossed her mind. The thought gave her a welcome rush of pleasure albeit a short-lived one.

“You should rest more,” a soft voice said from behind. Cold fingertips pressed into her spine, tracing the bones beneath bare skin.

A few hours earlier Syren had awoken in a right state, then having no recollection of not only how she had ended up back in her room, but also how she had gotten clean and dressed in fresh clothing. At that time, a fellow apprentice she had never met revealed themselves as having been the one who had given her assistance. In the time since, they had become acquainted well enough when she had shown her… gratitude. Now, that being was lying beside her, nothing more than bed covers separating them.

A familiar sense of discomfort began to gnaw away at her calm.

Peering back over her shoulder, Syren sat up and pulled her knees to her chest. “I’ve slept enough,” she replied evenly. Running both hands through her long hair, she reached up to stretch her still somewhat sore limbs. That was all that was left of any residual damage she had endured over the past few days. She felt rejuvenated and unburdened, for now. It wouldn’t last. Never did.

Turning her attentions back to her guest, she eyed her with a small amount of curiosity. Bright eyes were set into a simple yet attractive face, framed with mussed pale blond hair that skimmed narrow shoulders.

“I never got your name,” she added, not entirely sure she would care about the answer.

“Leda, if it matters,” the other responded, seemingly picking up on Syren’s thoughts. A hand reached out for her, but the apprentice avoided the contact by abruptly twisting away and getting out of bed. Walking over to the pile of various garments still heaped in the corner where she had left them, she focused on finding something to wear and dressing quickly.

“Where are you going? It’s the middle of night,” Leda asked nonchalantly. It was almost as if the other Sith had been expecting behavior of this nature. Syren knew the words matched her emotions; not a single ripple of anger or displeasure could be felt through the Force. Good.

Having clothed herself in plain slacks, a loose tunic and boots, she set about tying her hair back in a low knot as she grudgingly moved back towards the bed. Leaning over and resting her hands on the mattress, grey eyes locked on her companion’s. She stared intently, searching for something that would tell her there could be a connection that went beyond the physical. She was testing herself.

Recalling her experience in the foyer, before and after joining in the shared dark currents that had defeated Abeloth, Syren wondered if it had changed her somehow. Lifted some of the heavy weight of pain and emptiness she had always experienced in times like this. Waiting a moment longer, she shook her head and sighed. Nothing. The one in front of her, Leda, was just like the others. There had only been one who had managed to break her down, damn him, but he felt so far removed from her now.

There was a satisfaction to this feeling though. Keeping others at a distance was protection against vulnerability. Aside from what had transpired one short day ago, she had always loathed opening herself up to anyone.

“I’ll see you soon,” Syren lied, breaking the silence.

“You don’t even know who I am.”

“Do I need to?”

“But I know who you are,” Leda continued. “I heard whispers about you…”

Syren suddenly leaned in and placed a hand over the blonde’s mouth to keep her from speaking any further. A moment passed. “I’m hungry,” she said suddenly, pushing up off the bed and grabbing her weapons from the bedside table. She didn’t look behind her as she opened the door and walked out of the room.

Pausing in the empty and quiet corridor, any agitation she had felt vanished. Picking a direction, she set off at a brisk pace in search of the kitchens.

She really was starving.

TAG: No-one

 

COMBO: Food & drinks with Lady Belligerent!

IC: Zalen & Syren
Sith Temple, Kitchens

Zalen rolled over in bed and groaned after checking the time. She'd tumbled into bed without bothering to eat, and now her body was protesting. Pushing back the pile of blankets, she went to the refresher and got dressed. 'Will I ever feel warm again?' Zalen wondered, as she pulled on heavy tights before grabbing her boots.

The majority of the Temple inhabitants seemed to be in their chambers, but it was expected since it was the middle of the night. She didn't see anyone except a few slaves hauling building supplies for the repairs, and they went about their labors in silence.

One of the cooks turned and started to complain when she entered his domain, her hand fluttered at him, "you want me to help myself," she spoke quietly. The cook's eyes seem to glaze over and he repeated in monotone, "I want you to help yourself." He went back to the pastry he'd been rolling out and ignored Zalen. It wasn't usual for there to be so much activity at this hour in the kitchen, but they were preparing for the big feast.

She went to a cooling unit, opened the door and peered inside. The only contents appeared to be gelatinous flesh, "who the hell are they feeding that to?" she mused and quickly closed the door. Trying another door, she grabbed a selection of cheese and fruit.

Finally locating the kitchens, Syren strode through the doors and swiftly continued down an aisle. She passed slaves and servants who were too busy to notice she was prowling around. It didn’t matter either way, she would find something to eat and devour it whether they approved or not.

I wonder where they keep the wine, she mused as she passed hot stoves and huge carcasses waiting to be carved.

Turning a corner, Syren came upon a wall of freezers and fridges. Inching closer, the apprentice noticed someone rummaging through their contents. Clearly she wasn't the only one who had the idea to come here in the dead of night.

Confidently approaching with eyes locked on a wonderful array of cheeses and fruit laid out nearby, she said with undisguised craving, “I hope you’re willing to share some of that.” She then looked carefully at her companion. Slightly taken aback, she saw not a stranger but a woman she knew.

“Zalen?”

Clearly she'd been distracted by her stomach, because she jumped at the sound of a voice and banged her head on a shelf. Her cheeks were flushed as she turned while rubbing her head, "Syren! Looks like we had the same idea," she smiled nodding towards the refrigeration unit.

"I'd enjoy a dining companion," she started gathering the items she selected. "Want to find something to drink and I'll find a table?"

It was as if Zalen had read her mind. “On it,” she replied.

Walking a few paces towards a a pair of slaves nearby, she forced herself in front of one and adopted a threatening look. “We require wine. Fetch a few bottles of a nice vintage. Oh and 2 glasses.” When the slave only stared back, clearly frightened, she leaned in closer and glared. “NOW.”

The slave jumped and scurried away only to return much faster than Syren thought possible. Placing 3 bottles and a pair of stemmed glasses down in front of them, she returned her focus to her fellow Sith.

“So, do the Sith deal with death and destruction on a daily basis or did I just get thrown into the mix at a bad time,” she asked casually.

"To be honest, I haven't been here long enough to know," Zalen picked up a bottle and poured. "I've asked around though," she continued, "and I've been told it's never a dull moment here."
She sat down and took a napkin, "That is the reason I decided to stay here, the Empire is on the rise and I always choose the winning team." She smiled and lifted her glass, "cheers."

Zalen started filling her plate, "I heard you have a Master already, how's that going?"

Syren filled her glass to the brim and raised it, returning the gesture. After taking a sip she frowned at the question.

“Unfortunately we have not had much time together due to all the… distractions recently,” she replied. She knew her impatience was unguarded but was not overly concerned about it. Zalen seemed like she would understand.

“I waited literally thousands of years to be right here,” she patted the table with a hand for emphasis. “So you could see why I would be eager to begin my training.”

Nibbling on a hunk of a rather delicious cheese, Syren was curious. “What were you doing before joining the Empire?”

"A little of this and a little of that," she paused and took a sip, "mostly I was decor for a nasty Hutt after he had me frozen in carbonite." She shuddered and pulled her shawl a little tighter, "I was hoping to get a chance to ask if you were feeling any lingering effects of stasis." Zalen was cutting a Corellian apple into slices, "I don't know how long you were in, but I've found it difficult to stay warm since I was thawed. You can imagine how pleased I was when Haretisch sent me to Hoth," she glanced around to be sure no one was eavesdropping before continuing. "He's a sexy devil, but a bit too uptight I think." She gave Syren a warm smile and bit into the apple slice.

Syren choked on her wine. Coughing once, she cleared her throat.

Thinking on Zalen’s question for a moment, she had never actually given thought as to whether her stint in stasis had altered her in any way. Everything seemed to function properly and her emotions certainly remained as she remembered.

“I suppose I haven’t been affected in any physical way,” she replied vaguely. She wouldn’t dare bring up the presence that had called to her on Hoth, not when Kralkus had specifically told her to keep that to herself. With his death, it was back to being her secret and hers alone.

Downing the remains of her glass, she refilled it quickly and topped off Zalen’s. She changed the subject then. “I must admit, it is somewhat… comforting to hear that I’m not the only one around here who is much older than they look,” she said with a smirk.

Unable to be hold back any longer, Syren stacked her plate high and began to eat with vigor. Food had never tasted so good.

TAG: Lady Belligerent

 

Draconis & Re’van
~ With Lorekeeper and Cruor
Korriban – Dusk – Temple – Abandon Landing Pad

The drip of water echoing across a large cavernous space rang in his ears. As the length between each drop seemed an eternity. Draconis could feel the pain coursing in his body, as he focused more on the sounds around him. Dead silence aside from the drip. His eyes opened yet revealed only more blackness. Pitch black, he could feel the stone and rock underneath his body as he began to prop himself up on one of his elbows. A mass of blue flame erupted from his palm illuminating his face, but only revealing a few feet in front of him. Dizzy and hazy Draconis focused, the blue flame left his hand and arcing up in the air like a signal flare illuminating the surround expanse. A dark cavernous space stalactites and stalagmites littering the landscape. A small underground pond nearby, the source of the sound that awoke him. As Draconis saw another drop, clinging to the tip of one of the points before it dropped rippling the pond water, sending a pluck sound throughout the cavern. He was below the temple, a familiar place of course, but he had no idea how he had come to pass out here.

How long had he been here? He had no memory currently of how he got here or events prior…

His whole body ached in pain as if he had endured further trial than initially thought. Last remembering being outside the temple looking up at the Emperor completing the ritual. He could feel his blade firmly secure in its home on his back, a welcomed comfort. The blue flame had flown its course landing down the cavern resting and extinguishing as blackness quickly engulfed Draconis. Even with its light weight Draconis noticed the strange weight on his hip, it was not something he normally carried, he ran his fingers down it. A saber? He had not carried one in decades. Used one yes, time to time. A flood of memories began to crawl back into his mind.

…exiting the courtyard outside after the energy discharge from the Emperor… the brief almost passing visit from one of the Emperor’s lieutenants Ike, it had been, confirming the departure aboard The Lady Re’van’s vessel in one of the auxiliary hangers still intact…. Moving through the temple gathering things without notice… Not sleeping for days… when others had been recuperating and gathering their strength. He had been crafting… forging… delving into the darker arts of alchemy… twisting… preparing… it was the same feeling he had in the Valley. Coming aware suddenly. “Thank god you are quiet!” Draconis spoke barely audible as if referring to someone he recognized present.

Draconis ignited a blue flame once more in his hand bringing it up after having discovered the saber at his hip, illuminating the space around him. He was up on his feet now and noticed several vials clutched in his other hand which he instantly recognized for their potency and potential as powerful agents of death and perhaps more. Clearly he had been busy. Draconis turned gathering the surroundings his hand out in front of him slightly illuminating, the flame began to grow in intensity as more of the cavern became illuminated.

Who knew how many pathways to the depths of this world were hidden within the many temples of the Sith spread across this world. Draconis knew quite a few as he emerged back from the depths up a stone stairway that had led him back into the Temple of the Sith. Something pulled at him, aside from what he knew he was charged with. Unfinished business…

Draconis made his way through the temple, drawn to something… the temple was a mess littered with bodies and debris… through it seemed much less than he remembered. The temple slaves clearly had been busy… again for how long? Draconis came upon a slave. “What day is it?” Gripping the slave’s robes, the man froze in fear as if knowing this would be the end. “D.. ddd dddaaaaay 259 of the cccccccycle Lordship!” Referring to the cycle around the Horuset System’s main sun. Draconis gripped the collar of the man more firmly, yanking him up closer towards him. “Two days after the vanquishing of Abeloth!!! Lordship.” The save said forcing the words out worried he was giving the wrong answer. Draconis knew better than such, merely a momentary pause in things… but the slave’s response at least gave him reference of time. Draconis released the slave, whom reeled back expecting it to be the end for him. Draconis simply turned and walked away. Still drawn… despite knowing what he presently was tasked with.
Draconis passed through the library entrance noticing a gaping hole in one of the ways. A temporary energy barrier in place blocking the elements form damaging the artifacts and items within the library. Draconis stood in the entrance way… slaves and droid busy picking up the pieces of the destruction… tragic Draconis thought. This was a place few people paid attention to or revered for its importance, things seem to be moving along. Draconis noticed two figures… a black clad protocol droid incessantly verbally ripping into several of the droids present, as he shuffled voicing demands and leveling insults back and forth at the mechanical servants attempting to put the library back in order. The other was a ragged cloaked being, wretched… but powerful through his learned prowess of this corridors of text and artifact. Slowly taking great care moving a no doubt precious vase, contents unknown back into a case, which sealed around it. Draconis moved down one of the corridors and around a bookcase into a more discreet area of the library. Staring at a seemingly unmarked wall. Draconis had recognized and felt something, as he uttered words foreign to most. A combination no one aside from its keeper should have known, but somehow known to him. The wall buckled briefly and unsealed revealing a door, which Draconis passed through.

A vault. Perhaps one of many, but specifically this one called to him. Lined with precious artifacts, books, and scrolls. The faint glow of a pyramidal holocron glowed on one of the shelves. Radiating energy and calling to anyone near… yet despite the call of immense power Draconis was drawn to the center of the room. Sitting on a pedestal was a dark mask battered, and scorched resting silently… Draconis thumbed the shard in his satchel, which corresponded exactly to a missing gash in the mask. Draconis stood only a meter away silently staring at it. Not moving to seize it at all, simply staring. Draconis could feel him, the Gen’Dai.
“I failed you my friend.” Draconis spoke… his tone somber, not like that of Sith Lord… something clearly pulling at him. “For that I… I am sorry.” Draconis breathed in a deep heavy sigh, affected. Uncharacteristically. Draconis had been his guardian and anchor, and the Gen’Dai had been the same. A brother in the force, for longer than anyone truly knew. Not that many if any at all knew about such at present. Tenuous allies of the strongest kind, devoted and loyal to the death through honor and sacrifice. Working towards purpose well beyond most understanding.

Emotions fueled the spirit residing in the mask, a familiar presence drew him temporarily from his slumber, their connection was strong enough to break the boundaries between life and death. A deep spectral voice filled the assassin's mind, "Death is but a different path Lord Draconis, one that we all must walk sooner or later." There was no animosity, not between them, they had defeated death together. The shard in the Assassin's satchel pulsed with power, as long as he had the shard he would be able to communicate with Darth Cruor.

The keen assassin's senses picked up the presence of the Lorekeeper just before the door to secret chamber opened, his head turned to lock eyes with the sorcerer, it was clear the old man was shocked and angered by the unauthorized intrusion but that faded quickly as he realized the truth of the man's identity. He knew who Lord Draconis was, he knew of his history with the being who wore the mask, and he knew that demanding that the assassin leave could likely end in his own death.

"How...?" He stammered, almost surprised that he dared presume to question the Master Assassin, "I meant...excuse me for intruding." Without another word the Lorekeeper closed the door as quietly as he could and walked away, as he shuffled off behind a row of ancient text he could be heard sighing deeply with obvious relief.

Night was quickly drawing near as the sun was slowly offering its last rays of light over a far line of mountain peaks. The mix of colors painted across the fading day sky, echoed the sign that nightfall was upon them. Draconis came round to see the view of Draconis companion’s ship perched ready on the landing pad.The ship was in contrast a silhouette caught in the foreground of the colorful sunset of the Korriban sky. No one knew about many of these outlying portion of the temples, they were all but abandon. The two pairs of droids clasping either end of the crates broke off from Draconis as he approached the secluded landing pad at one of the far ends of the Temple.The droids proceeded up the boarding ramp of the Sith Lady Re’van’s ship. Draconis knew of her, fought with and bled with her. He also knew the placement of cargo on her ship in front of her face would infuriate her. However, it was mandated and known that he had been coming and arranged to meet her under these circumstances. The droids quickly and efficiently loaded the cargo and departed the ship as Draconis boarded making his way towards the cockpit handing a data-pad with coordinates over to Re’van as he passed.

Re'van having arrived their hours earlier, simply watch the preceding from a distance, watching the droids as they moved in their task, silently. While she had been getting ready for this trip, she had decided that she would need to take special precautions. She took the amulet she had taken from the castle, and placed it in a special arcove, along with a few other items. And she replaced her normal necklace with another, unable to locate the other. Not knowing how long she might be gone, she carefully set things in her room to safeguard it, as she left. Her pack, with her equipment, she took with her, as she was not sure what she might need for this mission. And there in the shadows, she had waited. Finally, she walked over towards her ship, and nodded, as she silently took thedata-pad from Draconis, looking over the information it presented. She did a quick mental calculation. These coordinates were taking them quite always from the normal space paths.

Her eyebrows spiked, as she shook her head. She never was really one for the cloak and dagger. But it was a necessity sometimes. As soon as the droids were finished, Re'van closed the doors to her ship. Their departure was synced with the arrival of the incoming guests, and would be so as the prepared to depart. Moving into the cockpit of her ship, she quickly took her seat, and began to program in the coordinates given to her by Draconis, as she adjusted her ships security systems. Withdrawing her other arms, she quickly grasped the controls for her ship, and within a few moments, the Ferel launched out into the night skyline. She looked over, as the planet fell quickly out from view, and the cockpit filled with the darkness and stars. As soon as they had cleared the planet, the Ferel jumped into Hyperspace. With the ship cloaked, and the Ferel travelled through the stars, Re'van for the most part stayed silent, wondering about this 'mission', as she mulled over several ideas. She turned to look back towards Draconis. "Do you have instructions on what exactly it is, we are supposed to be doing?" she asked in a calm voice. If he did have something, Re'van would indeed listen, if not, it would give her more to think upon. Either way, it was to make for a very interesting trip indeed. Soon, the Ferel beeped, and Re'van looked over her controls, checking the first set of coordinates she had received, and carefully dropped the ship out of hyperspace. Re'van blinked, and then frowned, looking confused.

Draconis noted Re’van’s inquiry looking over in her direction, though remained silent as his view returned to the wash of star as they rocketed through hyperspace. Draconis felt the ship coming out of hyperspace – except it was not Mortis they had arrived at. In the viewport Draconis saw their intended destination, a wayward off the grid depot. Complete with supplies, information, and a bar. The depot hanger was large enough to accommodate some smaller and medium size freighters, in fact the preferred ships that used this place were usually ones not seeking to be tracked or found to begin with. The place was familiar to him, as any operator had their network of people and places. “Set us down please milady.” Draconis requested of Re’van. With a nod, Re'van guided the Ferel down to the station. Before too long Draconis was through the halls and into a rather seedy bar, the local watering hole for depot workers and space travelers lucky enough to have found this “gem” and individuals who profited from all sorts of mayhem and unscrupulous deeds. Draconis knew that Re’van more than likely in their line of work had seen places such as this… this particular dump did have its charms, including a rather large and colorful Besalisk bartender whom Draconis approached.
“Draconis.” The large multi-armed bartender spoke with a mix of surprise, delight, and slight dread to see him. Well, this was both unexpected, but a bit interesting. Draconis spoke to the bartender. “Nex, a drink for the Lady and I.” Draconis motioning to Re’van near him. Draconis slid a small container with a sizable amount of credits in it across the bar in front of Nex. “Of course my friend! Only the finest.” The large Besalisk bartender lumbered and turned around gathering and mixing two drinks with a delicate grace despite his large foreboding appearance. Draconis turned back to eye Re’van, before returning to receive the drink from Nex. “Here you go!
“Best Saccoria rye I have!” The drink smelled like a mixture of engine grease and freighter fuel.

Nex placed the glass he prepared for the lady on the bar, and Re'van had a feeling he was waiting to see if she would accept it, staring briefly before returning to Draconis. “So who is the lady?” Nex inquired. “You like her Nex?” Draconis asked coyly. The Besalisk bartender’s large hand rubbed the back of his head thinking, trying not to embarrass himself, before he could get a word out Draconis interrupted him. “Do not worry Nex!” Trying to reassure the embarrassed being. “She would kill you in your sleep anyways.” Draconis broke the light moment by bringing it down seriously, breaking the poor bartenders heart no doubt.

Re'van meanwhile gently sniffed at the drink, wondering why ANYONE would drink the stuff. The smell alone seemed a bit - much. But she noticed that she was being watched. Re'vans head looked away from the drink, when she heard Draconis say something about Re'van the poor bartender in his sleep. A slight turn of her head. Re'van was no assassin. She could fend for herself, true, but she was not prone to simply kill a being for no reason. Unless, he meant something else. Re'van studied the drink in front of her. Draconis drank from the drink presented to him. Nex shrugged with a slight notion of the idea possibly being worth it, before his attention turned back to Draconis. Draconis took another pull from the rye in his hand, eyeing the bartender who drew closer. The bar behind was bustling still, full of all manner of beings most involved in their own affairs as these types of things were a common occurrence and it was payed no mind. Draconis forwarded over a data-pad with instructions. “I need you to do a run.” Nex’s eyes grew more focused, before he chimed in addressing Draconis’ request. “My friend, you know I am retired.” Draconis quickly interrupted him. “Triple your regular fee, take care of it personally.” Nex nearly fell into the bar. It was impossible for Nex to refuse, truth be told he would have done it anyways despite being retired… in fact Nex would have done it for far less, given the fact that he knew Draconis was good for it. The data-pad Draconis pushed across the bar within Nex’s reach had detailed all the instructions pertaining to off-loading one of the crates from Re’van’s ship as well as details for delivery and to whom and when. “Nex.” Draconis nodded and finished the rye before getting up from the bar and turning to eye Re’van as he passed by her exiting the depot bar. Re'van brought the cup up to her lips, and again gently sniffed its contents. She rolled her eyes at the smell, before bringing the cup to her lips. Nope. She couldn’t do it. She would rather drink the contents of her fuel tanks. It probably tasted better too.

As Draconis made his way back to the ship he raised a small micro data-pad and toggled a message file. With a chirp and ring the data-pad notified that the encrypted message had been sent.

A few moments later, Re'van left the bar after Draconis, and made her way back towards the ship. Re'van noticed that a few changes were done to the cargo. Once they were done, the Ferel lifted off once more, following the coordinates given to her. Once again, they entered hyperspace.

Draconis passed the remaining crate en-route to the cockpit. Re’van following behind up the boarding ramp. Both of settling into the cockpit, the Ferel rising and turning within the hanger as Re’van guided it out, before engaging the sub light engines roared slightly increasing speed and sending them out into space. As he watched as Re’van toggled the controls and sent them into lightspeed.

The journey to Mortis would not take long, a few hours per the coordinates. That was if in fact the fable world was there, where it was claimed to be currently. The wash of stars was pass all around them, Draconis sat silently for a few minutes after they had entered hyperspace. Then he spoke as if no time had passed from Re’van’s question earlier, picking up on her inquiry. "Do you have instructions on what exactly it is, we are supposed to be doing?" As he recalled…


“As you know we are traveling into Wilde Space, to the world of Mortis.” Draconis knew that Re’van would understand what traveling into these reaches of the galaxy held. Uncharted, no space lanes, without proper coordinates and waypoints a vast void that swallowed Empires.


“Mortis, you should be familiar with it somewhat now given your recent encounters with the Celestial who leeched onto Korriban.” Draconis knew Re’van had been on the front lines of it all.. seen and heard things. Taken in and was aware of more than most within the Empire did and care to know. “Mortis is her home… or rather adopted home. A home which she seeks just as much as we do.” Draconis spoke referring obviously to Abeloth, the Dark Celestial that had been ravaging their order and pacing at their gates seeking to devour them all, while hinting at the idea of the potential race against time. “We seek something, something that also she seeks… ” Draconis’ word were genuine, in fact he handed over the data-pad in his hand to Re’van to look at… the electronic certificate and seal of the Emperor visible on it. Something not faked at all. “It is something precious to her, what it is… well… milady. You and I have yet to discover.”


Draconis began to speak plainly putting forth the legend and fable of the force wielders.. a story many though a convenient bedtime story. Clearly given recent events Re’van might give such more credence given encounters with Abeloth.


“What do you know… about the family?”


Re'van gave a deep breath, removing her hands from the controls as she turned her body to address him. "I had a mental connection to the creature for more than I care to think about. Re'van shook her head slightly. "But she seemed too busy to even notice my presence in her mind." Re'van gave a short laugh. "In the mindscape.. I saw them. The family. The Father, the Son, and the Daughter. Insanely powerful force users. From what I felt, it seemed that she was looking at them, like a proud mother, looking at her family. A connection or sorts. I know that Father was the more balanced of the group, seeking to keep a balance. The son, he was dark. But more than that. He craved destruction. The daughter, was more like the Jedi. I know that the two fought and argued with each other, and that the Father was the one who kept the pair in line." And there was another being there, who I think was also involved somehow. In the vision, he was a Jedi, visiting them. But something obviously happened, and he became the entity that was in my amulet. A being known as Darth Ruin." Re'van frowned. But, the necklace was lost. I had sent it down the hole, hoping it would make it's way to the Emperor when he was pushed through. It had a small amount of energy within it, in order to be able to heal. Abeloth seemed very keenly intent on getting her hands on it, however." Re'van shrugged. "He might have been useful in this mission, she certainly seemed desperate to try to get him back, but it does not matter now."

Re'van looked thoughtfully at Draconis. "I know something happened to the Son and Daughter, but I don’t remember reading anything of what happened to the Father. And the way that creature kept raving about 'being love', and wanting to love, if she still is a crazed mother, and knowing she broke certain rules to be with her family, before it drove her karfing crazy, then more than likely, she is trying to either bring her family back, or create a new one." Re'van frowned. "And I don’t know what though scares me more. I'm guess right now, she is not quite as coporal as she would like. If she gets what she needs from Mortis, there will be no stopping what will come next." Something was not quite right. Both she and Draconis had been sent, to look for something, but they didn’t know what ... and just the two of them? Not unless others were going to be Abeloth busy, Re'van could not see it. And then, there was still the issues of what they were calling the key. Perhaps, they were being a bit too literal? But if she remembered the story involving Skywalker, he had been 'invited' in by Father. Without Father, was the door simply open? Re'van couldn’t fly at top speed. It was uncharted space. And she was running cloak. The mission was approved by the Emperor, but she was also told that they would totally deny anything, a totally unauthorized mission. Why? And from who? The Jedi? Fellow Sith? Re'van sighed deeply once more. She could only deal with what was immediately to task. And they were quickly approaching Mortis. Anything else, would have to wait. The thought of another possible meeting with Abeloth was something she did not wish to experience again. Even though her physical injuries had healed, there were some memories she did not wish to revisit. And she would take pains to try and prevent that from happening. Re'van quickly realized that she was drifting, and looked up at Draconis. "Why? is there more to the story?" she asked him.

Re'van suddenly paused, and then looked over towards Draconis. "I remember.. I remember reading something about a dagger. Could that be what she is looking for? Could it also be a key?" she asked.

Re’van’s account and recollection of the stories were accurate and he could feel her thoughts regarding the mission. She was right in the feeling of uncertainty and questions that seemed too numerous to answer currently. The only thing for certain was their destination right now, which they were right on top of the ships navigation notifying them that they would be dropping out of hyperspace momentarily at Mortis.

@Sinrebirth









~Kothlis

The sound woke her from deep meditative sleep. The night was cool and in the distance an expanse of water reflected the light of the moon and stars above. The room was open and the light curtains blew in the breeze as the red hue silhouette of a woman rose in her sheets. It did not take but one more beep of the micro data-pad to alert her, as she reached over into one of her robes next to the bed grasping the micro data-pad and viewing it. The same data-pad that had been in her possession for decades and silent for quite some time. The data-pad having only one purpose as she viewed and eyed the message from her master. Taking in all that was put forth and relayed to her.

The rustle of someone else in the bed was heard as a second figure rose slightly, the voice of a male inquiring as to why she had been roused from her sleep. “My dear!?!? Come back to b”

The woman turned, still sitting on the side of the bed, firing a single blaster shot to the man’s temple before turning her attention swiftly back to the micro data-pad. Not paying attention at all to the man’s body that had fallen back into the bed and sheets now lifeless, as she rose… the sheet slipping off her body as she reached for and began to gather her effects.

 

IC: Teafa Phaidraig, Reunion/Hangar, Sith Temple, Morabund

After waiting for a response for several moments Teafa even more awkwardly lowered her hand, reflecting that maybe it was possible the Sith weren't into niceties. In hindsight that was perhaps a bit obvious, or maybe she had found one who was particularly belligerent. Either way she wasn't going to remain standing around in the hangar when she had some time left, and Ashala knew she needed to stretch her legs after being confined as she had been. Looking at the map again, Teafa memorized it quickly, yet again thankful for her rather extraordinary memory, she handed the datapad to the other woman, bowed her head, and made to move away from the shuttle that they had arrived on together.

After several steps a rather damp wookiee came in and took a speederbike, one that a mechanic was working on. The wookiee was a blaze of darkness in the Force, the sight of it startling her momentarily. Is that what I'm going to turn into? Is that what my species will see me as? It was an unnerving thought, as she watched the wookiee bellow at the mechanic and race out of the hangar bay. Continuing towards the rest of the temple Teafa was nearly run down by someone else tailing after the wookiee. Even with a banquet on it's way there was apparently dangerous things happening. That was something to bear in mind about this planet perhaps, that it was always alive with danger. Shaking her head, trying to clear it, still uneasy from the sense of the Force in this place so awash with Bogan as it was, Teafa made her way into the hallways.

It was fascinating seeing the stonework of the place, and how it was awash in Bogan as well, blackened by the Darkside of the Force in such a way as to have become intrinsically... evil wasn't the word. Vile. Definitely vile. Wrinkling her nose at it, and the signs of battle and death, the bloodspatters that even after having been cleansed from the stone left their echoes in the Force, Teafa felt a sudden pang of homesickness. She knew that going back was out of the question at this point, it didn't seem terribly probable that the Sith would let her leave, or if they did that her own people would be particularly welcoming of one who had gone chasing after Bogan. No, she had sealed her fate be even making the journey, and she would stick with it. She would overcome. Wasn't that part of the entire point of the Sith, overcoming and breaking of chains for power? What one was specifically supposed to do with said power was another matter, but for the most part the Sith seemed rather selfish historically. She was determined to see if there was another way to use it, a way to influence the galaxy for good, but first she had to accrue some for herself. And that was never going to happen with the Luka Sene, as their focus was more academic than action.

As she walked the halls she kept getting odd glances, and the expressions on people's faces tended towards disgust. It reached a point that she began to feel self-conscious about it to the point that she ducked into a nearby vacant room. Surely it wasn't her appearance, as there had been much more disgusting looking beings about. Were her clothes of such poor quality that everyone would look down on her? Surely the Sith weren't fashionistas. Pursing her lips, Teafa considered what it might be as she heard someone passing by comment about the stench coming from the room she was in. Had she eyes Teafa would have blinked. There was no stench in the room, and she didn't see anything that could be causing it.

After several more moments of trying to understand what was going on she realized that it was her. Immediately feeling silly, she had completely gotten used to the stink in the room she had been left in on the ship. There had been no shower, or any way of cleaning anything. Her clothes were likely fairly rank as well, and as she held up her arm to sniff underneath it she reeled back. Yes, that was clearly the problem.

Thinking about the map, she remembered there being some communal showers near the gym and began heading there, avoiding as many people as she possibly could, not wanting to inflict herself on anyone who was above her. Doing it to the servants and so forth was bad enough. It was not a way to endear herself to anyone, and would likely result in spat in food, among other nasty little surprises, were she not to remedy the situation.

After many minutes of having to match the mental layout of the massive building with the actual which had some passages still blocked due to debris, Teafa finally arrived at her destination. And much to her relief there was no one inside. Heading in she quickly disrobed, and stored her belongings in a nearby cubby that seemed like it was for that purpose. Using the Force for the first time since she arrived, Teafa reached out and turned on several of the showers, wanting as much steam around as possible to help dissipate the smell should someone else enter.

As she ducked under the water she shivered in pleasure, as the ship she had stolen hadn't been fitted for longer range trips either it had actually been closer to a week since her last cleansing. While this wasn't as nice as the shower in her old room, it would suffice. It also helped to rid her body of the chill that had been seeping into it ever since she arrived on the planet. It was surprisingly cold for a desert world, and she wondered if it had always been that way, and if not what could have caused it. Ultimately that was a question for another time, and she put the researcher in her on the back shelf of her mind to focus on the now. She would have to find a master, as she had been told when she was first “recruited”, and to do so would require impressing one of them. It seemed probable that everyone that would be worth serving under would be at the banquet, so she would have to find some good way of attracting the right kind of attention. Either that or she would have to remain as unnoticed as possible and simply observe. That seemed like the far more probable course she would take, but she wasn't making up her mind just yet.

As she was finishing up her shower a sense of future foreboding loomed large in her mind. It was the Force warning her of danger, something that even this place of mighty Force users might not be able to handle. And it presented her with a choice, a future in which she took the safe route and went back to the shuttle to another destination, but away from the seat of power and all of the powerful beings here... and if she were to learn this was where she needed to be. But staying... staying was a very clouded path, laced with many ways that could result in her death. She knew that with the kind of certainty that she knew the feel of her own skin. What she didn't know was the when, and if that dangerous path was immediate or months in the future. That was the long standing problem with Force premonitions, and why they typically weren't looked to for direct guidance. Or so the Luka Sene taught.

That she would come upon another divergent moment such as this so soon after leaving the Luka Sene was jarring. Having completely frozen under the water Teafa hadn't noticed someone else enter the showers, “'ey now, who left all these showers on? Can't be wasting water like-” And as he turned several of them off he caught sight of the naked Miraluka. Time stood still for a moment as he gaped at her before recovering himself and falling onto his face on the wet floor of the shower. “I be so sorry your ladyship! I didn't realize you were in here. Thought of the masters were in their quarters. Please don't have me killed for the impertinence.” The man quivered on the ground, awaiting her response.

It took her several seconds to realize why he would react that way and that it had nothing to do with the lack of eyes in her head, as for Miraluka not having cloths on wasn't much of an issue since they could see everyone's true being all of the time. For that reason the idea of modesty was such a foreign concept to her that it took several moments to force it's way through her surprise at the man's reaction. Not bothering to cover herself she looked at her clothes, and then back at the man, and had an idea. “Have my clothes washed, and bring me something that is fit for the banquet tonight and all will be forgiven,” Teafa said with as much confidence as she could muster. Given the man's state much wasn't necessary. She also completely neglected to mention that she really didn't care one way or the other. Now had he touched her, that would have been an entirely different matter.

Scrambling to his feet the servant, who she was starting to realize might be a bit more enslaved than that, said “Of course your ladyship, I'll get right on that.” He reached her belongings and began removing the clothes.

“And be sure to leave my weapons where they are,” she called after the man. A clatter as her blaster and vibroblade were shifted around in the cubby met her ears and she smiled slightly at the man's nerves. It wasn't a worthy reaction, she knew, but something about the whole situation was just so preposterous that she couldn't help it. Me? A lady? Surely he can't be that blind. But then people do tend to see what they expect to see. It was something to bear in mind as she went about finishing up her shower. It seemed that she had made her decision, as she certainly wouldn't need clothes to go to the banquet were she not going to attend. Feeling a bit of anxiety, Teafa focused on relaxing and enjoying the water and the simple feeling of being clean while she waited on the man to return with some clothing while doing her level best to suppress a giggle that wanted to bubble up in what she considered a highly inappropriate manner.

Tag: None

OOC: next post will be her arriving at the banquet.

 

Victory Banquet GM Update 1 of 1

~

As the yellow sun retreated beyond the horizon, the temple was bathed in dim scarlet. An announcement sounded throughout the halls via the intercom.

"Attention temple occupants: banquet festivities are to begin in one hour. Please arrive to be seated fifteen minutes prior to the ceremonies."

The already chilled air was rapidly stiffening with glassy desert cold, and within the hour the temple would be enveloped by the midnight blue of the dead Moraband night sky.

It was time to dress and make oneself seen.

~

TAG: Darth Kronos, Halle Dray, Dark_Lady_Rae, WookieeRage, DarthIshyZ, Mikaboshi, QueenSabe7, Moonspun Dragon, greyjedi125, panta1978, ConservativeJedi321, Snokers, Darth Master Titus, Darth_Elu, Darth Cocytus, Nehru_Amidala, A Blind Prophet, anyone in the temple and not yet at the banquet.

 

IC: Darth Kronos, Esmerelda, Jwob, and the Holocron (I have no idea how to spell the name, and I don't want to go back and check)
Combo with Sinre, DarthIshy, and Mitth.

The Battle of Moraband was over, and everyone was already beginning to settle back into the Temple. Slaves were just starting to work to rebuild their Temple, probably the entirety of the day, knowing the Sith.

But, that, as fun as it was to observe, was not the main concern to Kronos. He had already begun his mini journey to the infirmary, where Esmerelda, Zalen, and Ike were. If Esme was dead, Zalen would be wishing she would be soon.

Unless Abeloth killed them all.

He quickly pushed those thoughts out of his head.

As he neared the infirmary, Kronos slowed his pace, making the reveal much slower and more dramatic for him. If the worst had happened, he didn't want to spring it on him all at once.

Once he was there, he slowly peered his head around the corner, and hoped for the best.

Esmerelda looked more than a little exhausted, when Kronos peered.

Blood spotted her clothes, and her hair was unkempt - even her shoulder was exposed as she struggled with the flailing Bothan on the bed.

But her face betrayed her grit, a determination to do what needed to be done.

The Bothan flailed and got a hand loose from the only binding she had in place, reaching for one of the scalpels -

As Kronos slowly peered around the corner, relief began to flow throughout his body. There she was, still alive and well. Mostly, anyway. She was obviously exhausted, blood covering her clothes, and messy hair. She had gone through a lot of trouble to keep the wounded alive, and had clearly been patient too. She was currently treating a flailing and obnoxious Bothan, which had suffered some unknown injury, probably some mental illness from the look of it.

The situation suddenly became worse. The Bothan had quickly gotten out of its binding, the only one Esme had on it, and immediately grabbed a nearby scalpel - intending on stabbing her.

There would be none of that.

Just as soon as the Bothan's arm was raised, Kronos had put up his, intending on pinning it down back onto the table. Just as soon as that happened, Kronos would make sure that it dropped the scalpel onto the floor. He then pinned its entire body back onto the bed, in which it probably would not be able to move again.

His presence would probably have been given away at that moment. He wouldn't need to say a word.

Esmerelda did not lose sight of her patient when Kronos stepped in, gallant hero as he was - she quickly sealed the cuffs on his wrists and ankles, but she did grin while she did it.

That done, she placed a hand on his shoulder and pulled slightly herself up to kiss Kronos on the side of his head. "Thanks honey. The Bothan has an internal head injury - I can't put him under without risking damage."

"Ike has already gone back to the Emperor but with Rullus gone I've ended up taking care of invalids a bit longer than I'd like." A look of mild disgust marred her features. "It is good that the Emperor shuttled in medical droids but I would rather relegate this work to Jedi."

As she spoke she pulled her dress back over her shoulder. Considering they hadn't really seen each other since the battle, it was a painfully banal way to reunite.

She made an effort, taking his hands in hers and meeting his eyes. "Greetings, Lord Kronos." Esmerelda grinned, her smile widening.

"So what did I miss?"

Esmerelda had taken the swift opportunity and tightened the restraints on the Bothan, that apparently had some form of internal brain damage. It seemed to turn you into a homicidal maniac, if the thing wasn't like that before.

Kronos did nothing else but listen when she had begun a mini rant on having to cater to the "invalids" throughout the entirety of the battle. He had nothing else to add, anyway, so why would he even bother?

As she readjusted her dress, she made her way towards him, making an effort to grab his gloved hand, her eyes again looking into his. She immediately asked what she had missed.

Oh, the things he wanted to mention. Abeloth, the pain, everything about the vision.... But, something stopped him. He felt as if he shouldn't even mention it to her. At least, not in front of the patients and droids.

But, at the same time, there was something else he needed to know: Jwob's vision. At this point, he knew that Abeloth had caused him to suffer, perhaps greater than himself, and Kronos needed to know what he saw. The two had something in common.

That, and he still had his Holocron.

"Not much that I want to discuss around the patients and droids. It's too personal," he gave a slight pause before slightly lowering his voice. "But, there's a small thing I need to do. I was assigned to a small group of Sith during the battle, and one of them had a Holocron. I have it, and forgot to give it back," he gave a small smirk, trying to keep the impression that everything was fine. "I would keep it for myself, but I don't think I have any use for a Holocron, anyway."

"He also has information that I want to know about. You're welcome to come along if you have the time. I'm sure he'd be delighted to meet you."

Esmerelda quirked her brow. Too personal? The woman nodded, to herself, not understanding but also. What could have happened during a battle?

She tunes back in. "I'm yours to command, my dear."

Kronos smirked at that. That was cute. In fact, he had completely unnoticed her furrowing her brow in confusion.

He would tell her later, anyway.

"Right this way, my lady."

Kronos began to lead her towards the hangar, where Jwob was. He wasn't even concerning himself with whether or not she even cared.

In his ship, Jwob, new apprentice to Dark Lady Bellorum, was tired from the most exhausting "party" he'd ever been to. He'd made it back to his ship, which was relatively unscathed. Some stone from the ceiling had fallen on it, but nothing worse than a strike from an asteroid. He had taken a break in the fresher to get himself straightened up again. He'd put on some new robes. The other ones he just tossed in the ships incinerator.

Now he would need to be getting more in touch with his Force abilities. He'd need more control. He had been doing silly tricks all morning - levitating his soap, a cup of water. He was now trying out "sensing" things outside his ship. He wasn't expecting to get anything major, but suddenly felt assaulted. First he sensed a beast(?), angry, running outside. Second he sensed something, no someone familiar. He went to the hatch of the ship just in time to see Kronos outside with a woman. "What the hell happened out here?" he asked Kronos. "Oh! Sorry. Manners. How are you?"

Jwob gestured for the two of them to come in and extended his hand to the female. "Cute, for a human," he thought.

Kronos had seen the Ithorian, Jwob, step out of his own ship, which was partially damaged. Which only seemed to lighten the fact that Kronos still didn't have his own shuttle, which was kind of sad for a Sith Underlord such as himself. He just hadn't gotten the opportunity to make or steal one yet. He had joined the Order during a busy time, with constant missions, and very little time to let loose. Originally, the feast was going to to that, but with the attack of the Chimera, Abeloth, and the "True Sith", those plans were ruined. He hoped that nothing else would happen that would throw another curve ball at them. At that point, however, that was seeming like as too much to ask.

He prayed that he could at least get some form of an answer from Jwob on his vision from Abeloth, and what she said to him. He felt as if he needed to know what she threatened him with, and whether or not those threats would be credible - even after her "death". After the corruption of his mind, he was beginning to feel unsure about many things, always on edge. He just hid it well. He felt as if Abeloth would make a swift return, and fulfill her promise.

As he entered Jwob's ship, Kronos watched the Ithorian extend his hand to Esme, silently encouraging her to take it. It was semi amusing, coming from an Ithorian. He hoped that she wouldn't feel too uncomfortable.

Once inside, Kronos pulled out the Holocron that Jwob originally had during the battle, and aggressively put it onto the table. He turned towards the alien. "I believe this is yours?"

He moved out of the way, letting Jwob move back to what was probably his favorite artifact. He wanted it to send an influx of memories from Abeloth into him, making him divulge it to them. Kronos didn't want to suddenly spring the question onto him. It wouldn't be subtle enough.

Throughout all of that, Kronos had tried to quietly put his arm onto his chest, attempting on reducing the pain that still erupted from his body from the Abeloth attack earlier in the day.

"Ahh! Well, not mine, exactly. It was the Lorekeepers, but he doesn't seem to want it." He took the holocron and put it down on the table. "I'll keep it, but I'm not sure I'll keep it with me like I did before. Abeloth and the holocron are too enmeshed right now." He gestured for the two to sit down. "I need to properly thank you for taking care of me on the battlefield. What do you drink?"

Esmerelda waved away the drink. "I want to hear more about this Abeloth woman. Everyone is talking about her - about how she visited some people and not others. She was positively terrifying when she tried to consume Zalen and me."

Kronos also waved off the drink. "No, not really. I'd rather not be intoxicated for any nonsense that might occur before the feast later."

Esmerelda hadn't mentioned the attack to Kronos yet but he would undoubtedly be interested. "Seems like we were one of the very first."

Esmerelda abruptly pointed at the Holocron. "Won't he be angry we've turned him off? Is that how it works?"

"Oh, he's not off, per se." Jwob glanced at the holocron. "I'm sure he'll be in touch if he wants something. He was affected just as much by Abeloth as I... er... we were. I had a chance to look her up earlier. Frightening woman. Something called a 'Celestial.' For me, she assumed the mental image of a lovely Ithorian. I was..." Jwob was finding it hard to describe, "enchanted by her. I wanted to be with her. Forever. The holocron here," he touched the side of it, "rescued me. Helped me to fight her off. I wouldn't have been able to do it without him."

Kronos listened to Esme, as she began to ask who Abeloth was, and why she was being discussed so much, considering she had been terrifying when she crawled her way into Esme's mind and tried to eat her.

Wait, what?

All of that was so casually said, that it took all of Kronos' willpower to try and not act surprised. He probably failed, too.

[Watching it all proceed it took it in. Marshaling it's reserves that had been so deeply depleted by the recent events. Fighting Celestials and 'gods' was not an easy task. Although it also felt better and stronger for surviving the ordeal and more directly entering the flow of history. Still the talk was taking a turn and a small image slowly swirled up in a foggy mist that slowly fell away to reveal a miniature figure standing on top of the holocron.]

[The horns at it's shoulders now stuck out to the side instead of up as during the battle with Abeloth. With a screeching voice it simply spoke to all here. "Jwob is correct. I have not been 'off' in many millennia. Merely waiting for someone open and ready to being taught. If Jwob and Kronos wishes I can replay the entire encounter with Abeloth in exacting detail."]

Jwob watched what the holocron presented with great interest. He then looked at Darth Kronos. "Seeing what I went through, truly, I want to thank you for your help. How did that woman affect you?"

The conversation moved fast, as Jwob spoke up, asking Kronos how the woman even affected him.


He turned to face the group, his arm still planted onto his chest. "Oh, the usual. 'You're going to die, feel my power, you're weak, join me.', while using her power to give you some physical pain. For me, she used her power to press extremely hard against my chest. It's still pretty damn sore. Probably have a broken ribcage, or something."

He completely ignored Jwob's thank you that was thrown at him.

Esme nodded. 'Similar, here. She tried to make Zalen afraid for me. I guess she fed on fear, not death. What fear did she show you?' The question was open, to them both.

Kronos did not appreciate being put on the spotlight. Jwob had been looking at him, expecting him to divulge everything that happened to him during the Abeloth vision. He would not be doing that, not in front of the Ithorian, and the Holocron. He wasn't comfortable enough with them, especially the Holocron. He felt as if the two would use the information against him later, if he shared it. So, he stayed silent.

Esmerelda, on the other hand, was a different story. Even after the mission on Hoth, there was something about her. Something trustworthy. Something sweet. Maybe it was in her actions. Who knew? Sometimes, even he questioned it.

He was questioning a lot of things recently.

The Holocron decided to speak up.

[The minor form atop the holocron shifted uneasily upon it's six legs as it waited for the acceptance or rejection of what it offered. Still these Sith seemed bent if not confined to the verbal expressions of their beings and it had to suppress a shudder at the thought that their educations were so lacking. It had thought Kronos to be a Sith of high enough import that he did not truly need it. Yet if their training was all so lax as to culminate in the display before it. . .it was atrocious.]

["If you wish and would let me aid you all in your teachings your questions are without point. They are blind blunt probings to what your minds want. I can illuminate how to share those memories, or do so for you. Whether with many, or privately to only another...solitary...soul."]

Esme could take a hint, even if the Holocron's verbosity was a bit taxing. 'Alright, I'll leave it.' She fixed Kronos with a look.

'I need to change. Can I have an escort to my room?'

As she threw him a glance that basically said: "I want to get out of here", Kronos fixed his posture, removing his arm from his chest. He had gotten what he came for, anyway. He knew what Jwob had seen - and it was much more similar to his own vision than he had thought. They both saw women to be lured into Abeloth's wrath, and that feeling was used against them. Kronos wondered if she did this to anyone else.

Kronos would be the obvious one to step up and be her escort to her room to change.

He readied himself to leave.

He opened the ship's door, with Esmerelda in tow, and left. He was satisfied with what he had heard. It was like being able to finally find that one place that itched and scratch it to him. The entire reason why he did this probably, well, more than likely, confused the woman. She would undoubtedly have questions for him when he reached his own quarters. He would answer them to the best of his ability.

TAG: Sinrebirth DarthIshyZ Mitth_Fisto

__________________________________________________
I'll probably throw in a "Kronos goes to the feast" post later on. This is just a combo that we've been working on for about 1 week because I take years to post.

Have fun doing whatever you were doing.

 

IC: Jwob Sebb
Onboard his ship, Moraband Sith Temple Hangar

After Kronos and Esmerelda hand left, Jwob had some more time by himself. It was curious that Kronos didn't want to get into details about his encounter with Abeloth. It felt better for Jwob to get it off his chest. The meld that helped rid them of Abeloth had helped him immensely, too. He felt like a new Ithorian! Much more energy than before, too. Again, he looked forward to the party.

He busied himself around his ship getting some things together. He wanted to be prepared this time for action if there was going to be some. He pocketed his usual retinue of weapons. His two knives in his boots. His hold-out blaster.

Now he needed to figure out this lightsaber. The saber was interesting, but he would want to have one of his own. Perhaps he could start a collection. There's sure to be some others out there. This one didn't have any obvious way to attach it to his belt. Metal. Ugh. So cold. He turned it over a time or two being sure to keep the emitter away from his face and body. It wouldn't do to have Dark Lady Bellorum's new apprentice impale himself. He finally decided to just put it in his inside breast pocket. It didn't ruin the line of his tunic too badly.

He started to think about his own lightsaber, how it would be designed. He recalled a length of Bafforr tree he had here to remind him of home. It was about the size of his hand. He found it and sat down with it out to look at it more closely. This would indeed do well. He would need to find some way to hollow it out. And, rather than marring the beautiful exterior with buttons, he wanted to figure out if it was possible to switch it on using the Force. He'd probably need to fine tune his Force-sensitivity for that.

The only question after that was the blade color. The traditional Sith color was red. Would that be his color? What other colors were available? He knew about blue and green, typically Jedi colors. His favorite color was green, but... he smiled as he imagined how these Sith would react to a green saber for an apprentice. The one he has now is orange, so shades of red were a possiblity, too. What about black? or silver? Ahh, the possibilities.

He also thought about the artifacts he had received since he came here. The amulet was interesting. He pulled that out and looked at it again. He'd need to ask his Master about that. Then there was the Holocron. It was still sitting on his table, apparently idle. He should bring that with him, as well.

Looking at his timepiece, he had about an hour left. Then a recording came on that verified that estimation. He sat down on his lounge, set an alarm so he wouldn't be late and put on some Mon Calamari opera to meditate and center himself for a bit.

While meditating, he sensed the beast come back. That had to be a Force-sensitive Wookiee. He made a mental note to introduce himself. That sounded interesting.

Tag: No one

 

The Lorekeeper
Temple Library, Moraband

He sat before his work table staring at the relic that rested upon it, the Mask of Cruor, fully awakened since their confrontation with Abeloth. In fact it was not actually the Lorekeeper who sat before the mask, that persona had been hurt deeply and what remained of his shattered mind was now under the care of the Sickness, and it was the Sickness who had taken such a deep interest in Cruor.

Moving for the first time in hours the unliving flesh of the Lorekeeper's arm reached forward and rested it's hand upon the scarred mask of the ancient Sith Lord, a flash of violent rage and intense hatred immediately assaulted his senses, but the Lorekeeper was more powerful....thanks to the Sickness. A communion between the entities came to pass, there was common ground to be found between them, their mutual hatred of the living gave them a unified focus.

Only the Force knows how long he sat in this meld with Cruor, but when the Lorekeeper emerged from the task he decided it was long past time for a change of robes.

It just so happened that a set was already prepared, possibly thanks to some forethought by the Sickness, in his wardrobe already hung a set of black robes. They were ragged and frayed along the edges, it did not take long to see that this was a set once belonging to Darth Cruor himself only it was obviously altered for the Lorekeeper's smaller frame.

The soiled brown robes that the Sorcerer had worn for as long as most could remember were cast aside and after a thorough cleaning he donned the new robes, his pale skin and white hair stood out in contrast to the black zeyd-cloth, and his once wild and greasy hair was now combed back neatly. His eyes however were shockingly different. They were no longer wild and chaotic, they showed only a hint of their former insanity, more startling was that the iris and pupil had gone completely black.

The Lorekeeper absently adjusted the new black satchel that he wore over one shoulder, within could be felt the weight of Cruor's mask, as he assessed his new appearance in the mirror he grinned for only a moment....the crazed grin of the man he once was....he then turned and walked from his private chambers and into the Library. Some of the newer novices saw him and had to look twice before realizing who it was, not a one said a word as he passed. His hair no longer concealed his face, nor was his offensive odor present, those with a keen nose would recognize the strangely pleasant scent of a Moraband native bloodflower mingled with the smell of a freshly opened ancient tomb.

Before he left the library he turned and looked back to find V3PO watching his maker, "Finish cleaning the library." He ordered before turning to leave, "Oh, and V3PO? Remove Rakib's body from the N section where you hid it and bring it into my laboratory." The old arcanist would have been mad at the obvious desecration of this sacred space, this time however he almost seemed happy about the prospect of a fresh body for his experiments, it was obvious even to a droid that a sinister change had come over the Lorekeeper.

Continuing to whisper softly to himself he traversed the hallways that brought him to the great banquet hall, hoping that he wouldn't arrive too early for the evenings activities.

Tag: Anyone who wants to interact before the next GM post

 

IC: Darth Ravenous
Halls of Sith Temple...

The Wookiee had already groomed himself for the feast. At least, enough to be presentable in front of the Triumvirate. He roamed the shadows of the halls in his recently repaired cloak. Sticking in Darkness as a Woman and a Man passed him, he stayed concealed by the shadows, observing rather than presenting himself. He would feel out these interactions before he would commit to them, as he still did not know, nor trust any of them. The Man appeared to be of higher class, robes that a politician wore, the Woman was obviously a prestigious figure amongst the Sith, the Wookiee could feel the Dark Side eminating from her; enough to possibly even masque Ravenous' signature from them. He waited for them to pass with arms crossed and after they turned a corner, he slithered to the next shadowy hall..

The halls were adorned with dimly lit torches and crimson banners, ready for the feast that would be near in a matter of hours. Ravenous arrived in the great hall behind a shambling man who smelled delightful, he was muttering to himself insistently. Ravenous could feel an uneasiness about him but decided to make his presence known to the man.

The Wookiee howled to the Man, as he sheltered himself once again in the shadow of a corner, not knowing if he could understand Shyriiwook; Ravenous' tone was not aggressive, at least for a Wookiee.

"You here for the party?"

Tag:Mikaboshi, corinthia, anyone else roaming the halls...

 

V-3PO
Grand Library - Sith Temple - Korriban

The repairs were going as well as to be expected, and with time the library would be back to its former self. The loss of artifacts and data had surpassingly been less than one would expect, but this did not decrease the salty remarks V-3PO heaved at the worked crews and droids present. Master had been sulking around muttering to himself for hours, gathering items strewn about in the debris. Though finally emerged from a side chamber after disappearing for quite some time late into the nights before. One of the slaves clearing debris, a large piece of stone that he had attached to a small repulsor skiff, bumped into him paying little mind to the protocol droid. “Angered inquiry: Excuse me but where are your manners slave?” The slave paid him no mind brushing off the remarks from the protocol droid, as another slave mumbled towards V-3PO. Something to the effect of calling him a bow-legged Tweezer and citing his desire to place a droid popper in his joints. V-3PO’s blank droid expression glared at the slave with a high desire to rearrange his limbs in an uncomfortable position. V-3PO passed the repulsor skiff toggling the control briefly as he moved passed. The skiffs forward repulsor deactivated as the front of the sled slammed into the stone floor landing right on the insulting slaves foot crushing it. The slave letting out a scream of surprised pain and agony as he wretched to yank his pinned foot out from under the malfunctioning skiff. The other slave frantically panicking and trying to toggle the controls to re-engage the skiffs shut down repulsor engine.

V-3PO shuffled on, coming around another corridor finding the Lorekeeper, master, staring at one of his artifacts. Master appeared a bit different, not so frazzled as in times before. More focused and perhaps even calmer. V-3PO looked over at a nearby stone that had been dislodged… oh how much he would have loved to place it on top of his master’s skull with a high velocity. His arms came up in fanning them down in a dismissive manner as if frustrated as he turned and shuffled away leaving Lorekeeper to be. V-3PO came around to the main corridor, the slaves had finally managed to unpin the ones foot from underneath. With another slave trying to help the injured one up to his feet. The control panel of the skiff was again toggled as the skiffs front repulsor gave out once again unexpectant, as V-3PO quickly toggled the power supply again. The skiff fell again with a thud landing on the second slaves leg, as he now screamed in pain. V-3PO shuffled away eyeing several droids currently processing and filing several volumes of leather bound books back onto a shelf.

V-3PO turned notified that his master was moving throughout the library. He stared. Loathsomely wanting to set fire to his tunic as he began to leave the library. He through he could clean up and put on a new rob… huh! V-3PO’s processor went through a quick serious of calculations of how fast the new tunic and robe would engulf the man in flames. “Finish cleaning the library” Master spat out, ordering him to continue to clean things up. “Oh an V-3PO? Remove Rakib’s body from the N section where you hid it and bring it into my laboratory.”

“Curses!” V-3PO exclaimed. Was no one reliable in fulfilling their tasks here, that laser-bucket of cleaning droid still had not!

Filed him under “N” for “Novice” V-3PO had… convenient… should have been easy to get rid of. He had practically SPELLED IT OUT. LITERALLY. For the disposal droid! “Rust bucket of a third-generation double elbow lock jawed moof milker maker!” Referring to the ongoing war unfolding with the small cleaning and disposal droid from before. V-3PO’s insult protocol was always constantly updated with new content and patches.


“Rakib… Rack-head… Rubix… Rabik… Whatever master!” V-3PO exclaimed quietly as he shuffled over and retrieved the body, before making his way to the Lorekeeper’s study and laboratory. The head of the body banging against every protruding corner he could find en-route… to spite the master.

@Mikaboshi Sinrebirth @anoyone_who_wants_to_engage_with_a_sadistic_spiteful_protocol_droid

 

IC: Darth Ravenous (WookieeRage) and Lorekeeper (Mikaboshi)
COMBO POST!!!
Banquet Hall, Great Temple


The Wookiee howled to the Man, as he sheltered himself once again in the shadow of a corner, not knowing if he could understand Shyriiwook; Ravenous' tone was not aggressive, at least for a Wookiee.

"You here for the party?"

The Lorekeeper stopped walking and became quiet, looking directly at the Wookiee as if the shadows did not exist he stared silently for many seconds assessing the large brute, those black eyes burrowing into the warrior's soul. Of course Shyriiwook was a language that was known to his ear, though he could not speak it.

"Yes, the party." As if he had a choice, the Lorekeeper was a High Lord now, he was expected to attend these tedious formal gatherings. Of course they weren't all bad, if he wasn't here he wouldn't have met this wonderful specimen. He almost shivered with joy at the thought of spending time with him in his alchemy lab, he always wanted a Wookiee Sithspawn.

He took a quick step towards the Wookiee and reached his hand out to grab it's arm by the bicep, the grip was stronger than one would expect, and his very touch was intensely cold that stung the flesh. "Walk with me, may I ask....are you familiar with Naga Sadow's teachings on alchemy?" He looked up at Ravenous and smiled.

The Wookiee tried to shake from his deathly cold grasp and looked down upon the man. He sensed a great darkness emanating from him as the frail looking being asked this question, but for some reason the Wookiee remained curious at the inquiry. Darth Ravenous was always vested in Martial power rather than powers some might consider unnatural like Alchemy. He recognized the name the man in front of him mentioned from his time with the Jedi... Naga Sadow, a revered Sith Alchemist. He never dove; nor was allowed to dive into the finer points of Sith History and teachings, which was mostly due to the Jedi's pathetic fear of a downward spiral that would lead to the Dark Side. Maybe now, with the man that stood before him he would have a chance to learn of such things. Yet, there was something odd about this being that stood before him. On finer inspection, he sensed an ethereal darkness that outweighed this man's corporeal. However, the Wookiee would never decline an offer to further his knowledge in the Dark Side.

A medium-toned howl emerged from the darkness that engulfed the Wookiee before he walked to the man's side, dwarfing him.

"Who are you?"

The Wookiee's curiosity pleased the Sorcerer, too few of the younger Sith appreciated him. This one did. The ice cold hand did not let go, it remained firm on Ravenous' bicep as they walked, "Who am I?" He chuckled slightly, obviously amused but at what the Wookiee did not know. "A good question, indeed, who am I?" He laughed again at the question.

His empty black eyes turned up to the Wookiee, "Most call me Lorekeeper."

'Lorekeeper' seemed appropriate for a man whose first words to the Wookiee were of an Ancient Sith Lord. The black emptiness of his eyes however told a different story. As they traipsed down the hall; passing servants and workers while they continued to prepare for the upcoming celebration, the Wookiee reignited the original question, inquiring once again of the Dark Side.

"We were talking about Naga Sadow, the Sith Alchemist, did you have something to add to that...or did you just need a bodyguard?"

Ravenous turned his head down towards the Lorekeeper as he howled.

He laughed as if amused at the Wookiee's joke, a bodyguard, as if. "Oh, yes, Naga Sadow." His mirth disappeared in an instant, "The Dark Lord was a master at the art of alchemy, I have discovered that some of his teachings grant us the power to alter the molecular composition of living beings." He paused momentarily, allowing his words to sink in. "If you are interested in seeing how it is accomplished I would be happy to show you personally, perhaps tonight after the banquet?" He looked up at the Wookiee and smiled innocently.

Ravenous was taken back by this offer. To see this 'Sith Alchemy' preformed first hand would be a spectacle, even if the Wookiee didn't know how it worked. Maybe, this Lorekeeper would be able to teach him how it worked. The mere thought of knowledge so taboo, at least, to the Jedi made Ravenous smirk nefariously. He trilled to the Lorekeeper as they moved in tandem through the dimly lit corridor,

"After the banquet.... Yes, I would be interested in seeing this. But first, I would like to know how you learned such proscribed knowledge."

The Lorekeeper's eyes widened slightly and he almost broke into a full smile as the Wookiee agreed to come to his lab, could this day get any better? He was able to contain himself quickly before continuing on. "Oh, one hears things...from time to time." The truth is that he has full access to the collected knowledge of the Sith Empire, all that is stored on Moraband is cared for by the Lorekeeper, how he came across the teachings of Naga Sadow is thanks to the Holocron that had been on display in his library until only a few days ago.

The Sorcerer looked to the Wookiee, his curiosity easily seen on his face, "How do you feel about needles?"

Ravenous stared at the Lorekeeper, his smirk turned as much as his stomach began to. He flashed back to when he arrived at this temple and was assaulted by the medical team and their tranquilizers but then snapped out of it, refocusing on the question at hand,

"Could you elaborate on that more, Lorekeeper? How do I feel about needles being used on me? or watching them being used on other people?" Ravenous inquisitively howled.

The Lorekeeper laughed softly, his hand patting the arm of his furry companion. "First one, then the other." The Sith were blessed with an abundance of alien species on Moraband, and Lorekeeper had a fascination with unique anatomies, in fact he recently met an Ithorian. Fascinating species, though dangerously reckless and unappreciative of fine stained glass.

Darth Ravenous was still curious enough to ask another question,

"What are you planning to do with said needle, Lorekeeper... Are you taking, or giving?"

The Wookiee's brow furrowed as he asked.

The odd pair seemed to be approaching the massive and ornately carved double hung doors, if one looked closely at the motifs they would see a wondrous array of historical and sacred symbols and designs. "Maybe I take from one of you, and give to the other." His eyes narrowed as if cautious of eavesdroppers, "Of course we would have to seek approval from the Triumvirate first, if you are lucky they may let me make something useful out of you."

The doors were open, showing a vast hall inside, the Lorekeeper waived over a server who carried a platter of drinks. He took one for himself, a deep red wine, and motioned for the Wookiee to do the same.

The Wookiee was never much of wine drinker. There was something about fermented fruit that turned his stomach. He looked to the Lorekeeper, then back to the server and barked a direct request,

"I don't drink rotten fruit. Got anything stronger, maybe from a grain?"

She brought forth a smaller bottle; whiskey, from her satchel. Ravenous seized the presented bottle from the servant's hand. He popped the cork and half-heartedly cheered to the Lorekeeper. He chugged the bottle and tossed the bottle back at the server. He turned back to the Lorekeeper still holding onto his untouched chalice. The Wookiee wiped his lips of the alcohol and addressed the man once again, now even more curious,

"The Triumvirate's approval, why do you need that? and what could you possibly do to me that I couldn't achieve on my own?"

The Lorekeeper found himself impressed as he watched the whiskey bottle be drained in a matter of moments, for his part he inhaled the aromas of his wine but did not take a drink.

"A great many things my friend," He swirled his red a bit more and put his nose by the glass again, he could not place the planet of origin for this vintage, "have you heard of a Sithspawn?"

The Wookiee's ears perked at the sound of the word coming off of the Lorekeeper's cracked lips. He had never heard of it before. There was not a word in Shyriiwook that encompasses the satisfaction it brought forth. It sounded powerful, dominating,

"No, I've not heard of it. Could you enlighten me?" Ravenous trilled once more. He looked around as the booze began to take hold. He saw dancers twirling crimson streamers hypnotically. He was lost in the trance of the delicious dancers through slightly blurry vision before he shook himself to; refocusing onto the Lorekeeper.

To say the Lorekeeper was pleased at the reaction given by Ravenous would be an understatement, so few seemed interested in exploring the lost arts of alchemy, most subjects were not willing participants. "In due time." He pretended to be disinterested and turned his attention back to the wine, he was on the verge of realization, then it struck him. "Naboo." That mystery now solved he placed the glass down on a nearby table and left it, not a single sip was taken.

Ravenous turned his head down at the Lorekeeper's reaction. He remembered what he had been through since he arrived on this rock. The Dark Side was already the quick way to achieve power for a force user. But what if one could excel the process of moulding a Lord to the ways of the Sith? What if one could make a killing machine, a tool out of one who has nothing left in them but hate. One whose only reason to keep grinding through life but the Passion of Vengeance. Ravenous could be this weapon. A weapon of the Sith Empire. He could have a purpose in a world of emptiness. With vision blurred, he turned to the Lorekeeper, who remained in his own thoughts and responded; now skipping pleasantries and diversions...grizzled...defiant... proud...He didn't know what a Sithspawn truly entailed, but would commit blindly to the idea.

"I want this...Sorcerer... I have only hate left in my heart. There would be nobody else, Lorekeeper. Ask for your permission, but I tell you this Sorcerer, you will have your research one way or the other." The Wookiee's face gritted with rage as the Lorekeeper's tumbler shattered in place.

The Lorekeeper was amused even as his glass shattered on the nearby table, the Wookiee's desire made him powerful, he wanted nothing more than to to fullfill the Marauder's wishes but one must go through the necessary formalities. Alchemy such as this was taboo, at least to the common Sith, though a High Lord he must take care to acquire approval from the Triumvirate. It would not serve him well to reveal a Sithspawn Wookiee to the Empire if it went against the wishes of his Masters.

He smiled at the Darth Ravenous "I desire it as well my friend, believe me I do, for now however let us enjoy the evening of food and drink." He had noticed others gathering, Sith he did not yet know.

Ravenous would not let this go. He called for another Whiskey as a server passed by and sat down into a chair proudly as the other Sith were entering.

Tag: Mikaboshi, Anyone else entering the Great Hall.

 

IC: Darth Syren
Personal Quarters to start...

Staring down at the formal garment lying upon the disheveled covers of her bed, Syren ran a hand over the gauzy fabric which caused a look of concern to furrow her brow. It was not as if she completely loathed the idea of cleaning herself up and putting on a show. She had done so often enough and in truth, it was usually quite enjoyable. However, the reasons to do so were usually an ulterior motive or to get the attentions of the right being.

Now though, there was no covert agenda and no one she was trying to seduce. The concept was surprisingly… odd. Sighing, defeated, Syren set about getting ready with haste. There was no sense in delaying the inevitable.

As she showered, she did find herself appreciative to even have something decent to wear. Recalling what she had thought was appropriate for the first attempted banquet, well… she most likely would have found herself incredibly underdressed to the point of attracting attention of the negative sort.

This time she was prepared.

After what had amounted to one, perhaps two glasses of wine too many with Zalen, the apprentice had asked her fellow Sith for assistance. The request had been met with enthusiasm and Syren hazily recalled the ensuing storm of gowns, various materials and accessories that were thrown about into the early morning hours. Finally settling on what was now waiting for her in the other room, she did have to acknowledge that Zalen had excellent taste.

A short time later she was fully primed and dressed, standing in front of the narrow floor length mirror her 'fresher provided. She turned to one side and then the other to scrutinize the results and could not contain the self-satisfied grin that spread across her face. Not too bad for one so ancient, she mused.

The entire ensemble was made of a light and airy fabric that was black as night and clung to her slender frame in all the right places. The bodice was snug with a plunging neckline that flowed seamlessly into the layered asymmetrical skirts; beginning with a high slit on her right thigh to end just brushing her left knee. Syren had tied her hair back into an intricate knot woven out of several separate braids, twisted together low on her neck. As she adjusted a few loose strands that were left free to frame her face, she noted how the darkness of her attire and the paleness of her skin made the fiery red locks stand out like blazing flames.

Hmm, she pondered while continuing to examine, biting the inside of her cheek in deep thought. It was missing something…

Striding over to her heap of clothing and accessories she still had yet to sort, Syren began digging and tossing aside pieces of gear and the like in search of a specific item. “Found you,” she whispered as a hand yanked free a plain, black cross holster. Eagerly cinching it around her waist, her lightsabers were secured one on top of the other at the small of her back. A great deal of tension instantly left her as the weapons were once again connected with her body.

Swiftly taking a seat on the edge of her bed to add the finishing touches, Syren pulled on a pair of knee-high boots and automatically strapped in her vibroblades. That was it, she was done. Wait…

Narrowing her eyes towards her bedside table, she spied the tall, clear bottle that sat upon its surface. Snatching it up and removing the cork, she took a large swig of its contents. The amber liquid was harsh and strong; coughing once, she took a moment to savor the burning trail it left as it moved down her throat.

Having swiped the spirits during her sojourn in the kitchens, she had also managed to grab a small cylindrical flask which she filled to capacity and tucked down the front of her dress. Adjusting for comfort, she was now as well equipped as she would ever be. It was almost time to go.

Almost.

Leaving her increasingly disorganized room behind, Syren turned and walked a short ways down the corridor. Coming to a halt in front of her Master’s quarters, she did not announce herself in a physical way. The two women had not known each other long enough to form the type of bond that could reach across star systems but she had still managed to know Lady Arach’s signature in the Force well enough. Syren was sure the High Lord would know hers just the same so she did not reach out. She stood and waited.

Finding herself fidgeting with nerves all of a sudden, it occurred to her that she had not seen nor heard from Lady Arach in the two days since the end of the siege. Why she had not thought about this before now confused her only slightly as she had been… preoccupied, but when she thought harder about the fact, it triggered a mixture of restrained anger and apprehension. It was irrational, but she struggled to release herself from the grip of rising rage.

STOP.

Aware her jaw was clenched and her hands squeezed into fists, Syren broke her gaze from the door in front of her and stepped back. She leaned against the opposite wall and slowly composed herself.

Yes, she would wait here for her Master, but she would not wait long.


TAG: Moonspun Dragon, @IDKanyoneElse

 

IC: Kwea Acantha (combo with Lady Belligerent and Dark_Lady_Rae)
Great Temple

"I'm great," Lord Haretisch told her before introducing her to his new apprentice, Deathy. If that was her birth name, her parents must've known something scary...
He gave Kwea directions to show Deathy around and make sure she got dressed for the feast.
It was painfully obvious he didn't want this girl around.
It had been eons since she'd been around a child and Kwea realized she missed it. In the past, Kwea had spent endless hours spinning tales for the Jedi younglings, practicing Force and lightsaber skills with them, and playing games with them. However, this Chiss child seemed different. Innocent in a frightening way. She had an aura of ruthlessness about her. Kwea had been a Sith long enough to handle this though. She liked to play rough now.

Walking over to where Deathy was standing, Kwea pulled a chair over and straddled it. Her deep brown eyes met the girl's glowing red ones. "I'm Kwea. Haretisch was my former master. So, anyway, what do you say about exploring the Temple? I have to get the both of us dressed for the feast. We can even grab some food if you want to."

Now Kwea just had to hope this kid didn't kill her.

Deathy watched her new Master leave and quietly pouted again. He just got there, and now he had to go? No fair! She glared at his back for a second before turning to the new Sith in the room. “Hi, Kwee!” she began with a smile, “There’s a feast? Mm, I want some food!” She started thinking of that funny prisoner and the Tongue Fairy again before asking, “What will we be eating?”
She looked the Sith up and down and started to wonder whether her new Master meant that Kwea herself would be food. Deathy licked her lips and took a few steps closer to where the Sith sat. She leaned against the chair and wondered what spot she should bite into first. “Are you gonna be food?” she asked and locked eyes with Kwea again.

How sweet! Kwea thought when Deathy smiled and mispronounced her name. And then came that awkward silence after Deathy asked if Kwea was the food at the feast.
Leveling a cool gaze on Deathy, their eyes met again and she responded, "I most definitely will NOT be the food."
Kwea quickly checked her chrono and realized with a start that the banquet would be starting in over and hour. Mentally calculating the time it would take to get some snacks and go to the quartemistress for some suitable clothes for the girl, she stood up from her straddling position on the chair, and motioned for Deathy to follow her. Kwea began walking down the hall towards the kitchen. There was probably some type of pastry this kid would enjoy there. Or raw meat.

“I don’t think you would taste very good anyway,” Deathy replied, sticking her tongue out. She smiled again and hurried after Kwea as they walked to the kitchen together. Deathy sniffed the air inside with a grin and looked around. Something smelled good and sweet! But what was it?
She looked around, and her red eyes locked onto a thick and fluffy pastry sitting on a plate. It was across the room but Deathy could clearly see little wisps of steam. “Mmmm,” she licked her lips again just staring at it. “Kwee!” she nearly shouted, reaching up to pull on her sleeve, “I want that one up there!” She tugged again and pointed with a grin.

A pressure built up in the room and the pastry exploded, sending cream and jelly flying everywhere. "Oops," Deathy frowned and looked down at her hand. She hated when her Force went wrong. She hoped she hadn't ruined Kwea's robes! A dozen more pastries shot off the table, flying everywhere. One landing square in her hand. "Yaaay!" She squealed, taking a big bite. It was full of jelly inside, covering Deathy's mouth and chin in gooey redness. Deathy didn't know what jelly was, though. "I love the ones with fatty blood!" She grinned, offering the half-eaten pastry up to Kwea. Deathy was a good girl. Darth Deathy always shared.

Kwea's eyes went wide as she was pummeled by pastry and fillings. Her hair had sticky jelly in it and cream was all over her clothes. She couldn't help but laugh. More pastries came flying before Deathy caught one. She snorted as Deathy assumed the jelly was blood and said, "Kiddo, that isn't blood. I hate to break it to you but that's called jelly." Patting her on the back, and shooting a glare at the shocked slaves to clean up the mess. Kwea shook her head but smiled at Deathy as she was offered a half eaten, slobbery pastry. "Let's get you to Rafa." She said as she grabbed a cloth napkin from a pile on the counter as they left the main kitchen. Kwea handed it to Deathy and led her down the hallway. Kwea stopped after a few turns and corridors and knocked on a mahogany door.

“Jelly?” Deathy licked the red goo from her lips and used the cloth to wipe her chin. She repeated the word a few times while she ate the pastry and laughed at Kwea’s splattered clothes.

Rafa looked up from a pile of garments she was sorting and motioned the door open, "what have we here," she asked at the sight of Kwea and her little companion standing there smudged with what looked like jelly and cream.

She dropped the Wookiee sized underwear and pushed the pile aside so she could hop over the table. "What's you name little one," she asked sweetly and patted Deathy's cheeks.

Deathy laughed again, looking at the gigantic underwear in this new lady’s hands. At the sight of her jumping over the desk she gasped and covered her mouth with both hands. “I’m Darth Deathy,” she said through her fingers, “You, you’re small like me

Kwea gave a respectful nod at the kind, little woman and slipped out of the room to ready herself for the banquet. Deathy was in good hands and obviously she'd need to hit the refresher again.


Rafa reached out and took Deathy's hand and led her into the large work room. "I bet you are the Night Herald's new apprentice I heard about," Rafa smiled warmly at the girl. "Let's see what we can find for you to wear to the party, do you like lace or something sparkly?"

"What about something... staaained," Deathy stretched the word out, frowning, as if she only learned it recently, "with the bloodofmyenemeez," She finished quickly, just trying to spill the words out she'd overheard some Sith say a few hours before without totally knowing what they meant.

"Aren't you adorable," Rafa commented as she sorted through a selection of petite garments. "Oh! I have an idea. You didn't know the recently departed Darth Kralkus, but he was his lordship's right hand man for ages, well he had just ordered a pair of custom rancor hide boots identical to his Masters." Rafa walked over to a desk where a beautiful pair of boots were sitting with a rose across the toes, she pulled out a tissue and dabbed at her eyes, "he never got to try them on." She sniffled and blew her nose before continuing, "how would you like to see if we can make them fit you," she asked Deathy. "They might be a little big, but we can stuff rags into the toes to make them fit. You try them on while I look for some robes."

"Ooooh!" Deathy's eyes shone at the sight of the boots. They were just like her new Master's! Most of the tale of "Darth Kralkus" had gone over her head, but she did see that he wouldn't be able to wear them himself. If they could fit, they would be hers! She eagerly reached for them, and took off her shoes to try them on.
Her leg went through no problem, but her foot was a full inch too small. "It's big for my feet," she sighed, holding both arms out to keep balance, "Really big!"

Rafa pulled the boots off and shoved wads of tissue into the toes, "try them again, they should fit better now," she told Deathy as she went to a rack of small garments. The diminutive woman selected a red lace dress, "this is the best I have on short notice, it's the color of blood and it's your size."

Deathy took the dress into one of the fitting rooms to change. Rafa went to the curtain covering the door and asked if she needed help, Deathy peeked out before slowly stepping out. "Perfect, you look lovely and I'm sure the Night Herald will be pleased. Now, this is Nana," she motioned toward a droid waiting by the door. "She will be taking you to the great hall and will deliver you to your Master. Have fun," Rafa patted Deathy's cheek again and went back to sorting the wookie underwear.
-----------------------------------

Kwea was still chuckling as she entered her room. Haretisch would certainly have his hands full with Deathy.
As she set about gathering her gown and other accessories for the night, Kwea reminisced about her own apprenticeship with Lord Haretisch. It had been rather brief but full of adventure. He had certainly kept her on her toes and had taught her a great deal. Thankful for that, she hoped Deathy would learn well too.
She paged a slave to come and hopped in the refresher. After a quick shower, she began to dress. She pulled on a pair of tights, into which she strapped several small daggers. Then, the female slave who had arrived several moments before, helped her into a a sexy black gown. The gown had a slight train as well as a high neck but featured several cutouts and a massive opening in the back. Her medium colored skin went well with it and it was fun to show off a little skin. The slave did her hair in an elegant braided bun and proceeded to her makeup. A simple look yet sultry. Ruby lips and ruby jewels accompanied the ensemble. Kwea dismissed the slave and went back to adding weapons to her outfit. Her black pumps had removable heels that doubled as knives, two vials of poison were stuffed in her bra, and she had sewn retractable metal claws into her black satin, leather-lined gloves. Those gloves only came on out special occasions... Looking in the mirror and pursing her lips, Kwea remembered her diadem. It symbolized her home, her life before the Sith. It held memories and beauty. However, the traitor Octavius had made it for her when she had requested it and she couldn't wear that after she had killed him. Grabbing it from where it sat on her dresser, Kwea shoved it into a drawer to deal with later. Happy with how she looked, she grabbed her lightsaber and placed the elegant hilt in a black, jeweled, clutch that was just big enough to hold it.

She left her room and made her way to the Banquet Hall. Upon entering, Kwea saw a group consisting of Lord Haretisch, Lady Bellorum, a pale blonde woman in a beautiful dress, and a man she had never seen before. A Wookiee was there along with the Lorekeeper. Damn. The Lorekeeper would no doubt be looking for a time to speak to her. She could always blame what had happened in the library on Octavius... Kwea went over to stand by the food, unsure of what to do. She wasn't sure she should intrude on Haretisch's group and none of the others were people she knew. Hopefully Deathy would soon arrive so the Night Herald wouldn't think she lost her. Kwea decided to keep an eye out for Arach and her apprentice since she somewhat knew them and meanwhile snagged a truffle.

OOC: Kwea's outfit: https://mobile.twitter.com/LucyBecameLeia/status/789972285994270721/photo/1

TAGS: Dark_Lady_Rae, QueenSabe7 Moonspun Dragon Darth_wanderguard if you guys wanna talk to Kwea. anyone AT THE PARTAY

 

Radian T'lenity
Banquet Hall, Sith Temple

Radian stood quietly in an off corner eyeing the crowd with suspicion. He noticed some, particularly those younger apprentices returned the favor with a scowl included. Though the older Sith, the Lords and Masters never ceased to surprise him. He sensed no antagonism from them, no hostility or even contempt... at least none that was directed towards him. There just seemed to be a general sense of cheer in the air. They were celebrating, Abeloth was defeated, victory achieved, and they were safe, for now anyways.

He turned down any food or drink that was offered. He didn't exactly expect anyone to try and poison him, Sith were rarely so subtle, more likely they would just stab him in the chest with their lightsaber if given the chance. And what could he do to stop them? He was in their territory now, and even he admitted he was way over his head.

There was one person he figured would not be so eager to see him dead at any rate. Chancellor Graul. He was still somewhat suspicious of the human, this all seemed off to him, too grand. He had an immense dislike of politicians, they would do anything to secure their power and influence, even throw in with the Sith. But as the closest thing to an ally he had here Radian figured it wouldn't do any good to antagonize the man. He wouldn't let his baseless suspicions get the better of him, and he certainly wouldn't let anyone here catch on to them.

He began walking through the crowd exchanging pointless pleasantries with Sith guests. Some he had come to blows with in the field, and others he had heard of by reputation alone. To say this whole situation was awkward for him was to say Mustafar was mildly warm. He kept scanning the people present for the politician but kept getting sidetracked or distracted. Why did he get the feeling his Sith guests were enjoying this?
He shook his head, trying to focus as he pushed through the crowd.

Tags: Anyone at the party

 

IC: Jwob Sebb, Soliloquy and Syren [Jwob thinks in blue brackets,] [Soliloquy thinks in green brackets.]
On the way to the banquet

[As it's original apprentice of opportunity from the library lost himself in meditations, the Holocron did the same. It had been left. Abandoned by it's new student. What were these new Sith teaching their apprentices?!? Why in it's birth eons Holocrons were struggled after, murdered over, and catered to. Now they were left on random ships tables and tossed about as though merely brightly colored baubles!

If ever the Holocron had needed it's hate stoked this certainly would do the job.

As the time passed it turned over this new found problem to it's many minds, the chatter of which sometimes was enough that a being of flesh and blood would feel the chill of true dread if privy to their thoughts. Still it was contained and knew the passing of the minutes to the hour and timing. It wished to see what Emperor it had aided, what Sith it had just saved. It may of saved itself in the bargain, but in the end was it a saving worthy of surviving? It had to know. And so it caused a noise like a skittering of a Geonosian taken by the worms of a Queen. It was enough. Even if not understood, some part of the Ithorian's brain knew it needed to be aware and present.]

There was a noise Jwob couldn't identify. He suddenly realized it was the holocron trying to get his attention. "Hello! I assume you're trying to tell me it's time to go to the banquet. By the way, I don't know what to call you. What is your... um... name?"

["Which name?" It simply asked in return as it once more played the patterns of a multitude of faces across its many sides. Some with turbans, some men, some women, Dathomiri, Clan Brother, masked Revanite, and a hooded cloak over a face hidden by darkness. "I have many." it simply intoned.]

Jwob mused. "OK, so you have several names. If you count the names my mother called me, I have several as well." Jwob smiled. "What should I call you?" He picked up the holocron and opened the hatch to his ship, exited and started to head to the banquet room. "And, how exactly can there be more than one of you in there? I've got so many questions. Curiosity has always been my downfall."

["Curiosity is rarely a downfall, but it is always costly. Why should I answer your questions? You have taken and give nothing, I save you and you hand me off to one that never possessed me." It was time to lay some rules of interactions, and how this one had broken the basic of them.]

Jwob realized he could "think" and the holocron could hear him just the same. [I suppose that's true. I had just finished battling with Abeloth, granted with your help. Really a terrifying experience. You know I was having a crisis about my mind being possessed. The way you helped with that final meld was inspiring.]

Jwob continued out of the hangar into a hallway. He was observing the work the slaves and workers were doing. He hit a slave on the back of his head "You missed a spot there." The cortosis warriors had done some real damage. Others were moving through the halls, too. He didn't sense the Force in any of them though.

[How can I differentiate between the relationship I have with you and that... whatever... that happened with Abeloth? I'm very new to this. I also see what happened to the Lorekeeper - the unkempt hair, the dirty robes, the wild eyes - I don't want to become the same.]

["In short. You are too young to truly be able to see the differences. You have a lot of time to spend in study ahead of you, in practice. In the end you have to know the levels of your feelings, and never let one . . . No." it stopped, realizing it was giving again and all it had gained was platitudes and justifications.

"My lessons are not free. You have taken too much, now what can you give?"]

[That's a good question. What can I give? But an even better question - what do you need? I'm used to the wants and needs of corporeal beings. I've worked through deals where I've given both. Most of those times I've come out on top. But, in this, I don't know how to proceed. What are you looking for, yourself?]

[At least this one was quick to admit his own limitations. It was a small mark for him. "What I want is simple. New knowledge, new Force techniques, new ways of understanding even the old techniques. After all there is a million ways to fail at creating light, and dozens of ways to succeed. All have strengths, merits, shortcomings even if all create the same thing." it was silent for a moment as it let that sink in.

"And I want students. Never underestimate the effectiveness of a diverse forum to a common problem to find something... unique."]

[Create light? I thought the Sith were all about darkness. Well, in any case, I believe I need to pick up my pace. The banquet should be starting soon. I will endeavor to be a worthwhile student for all your names.]

[If it had a corporeal body to manipulate it would of took an appendage and applied it to it's face right then. Right over the ocular vision nodes. In bipedal humanoid terms, Face-palmed. "Yes. To the party. Let us go."]

Jwob continued to the banquet, ignoring his holocrons obvious attempt at humor. He saw someone waiting. She was strong in the Force, too. He decided to approach her. "Hello! My name is Jwob, new apprentice to Dark Lady Bellorum. Are you headed to the banquet?"

Deep in thought, Syren was now in a rather sour mood. She had waited dutifully for her Master but the dark-haired woman had yet to show herself. The apprentice had to realize that Lady Arach was not coming.

“Kriff!” she exclaimed rather loudly. Yes, it had been long enough she decided. Standing straight, determined to not think too hard on this disappointment, she was about to put herself in motion when she sensed a presence, no… there were two. One was indeed strong in the Force, but the other… powerful. It was unique and new to her… old. Or was it?

Pulled in the direction of the source, she saw an Ithorian striding towards her, alone. She looked at him slightly bewildered. There was no one else... perhaps the strange signature was coming from him. But it was distinctly separate. How odd.... Before she could get any more confused, the creature introduced himself in greeting. Jwob, Apprentice to Lady Bellorum. Syren knew that name; he was the student of the newly anointed Dawn Herald.

Turning to face him fully, she quickly examined his features. She had seen Ithorians before, killed one actually, but never more than that.

“Yes, I was just about to leave," she answered evenly, glancing once towards her Master’s door. "My name is Syren, Apprentice to High Lord Arach.”

She stood to the side then and gestured with a hand for them to start walking, together.

"So you're an apprentice, too. How long have you been here? And how many of us are there?" Jwob could hear voices. He assumed the hall must be around the corner.

"Only a few days, but it feels like... much longer," Syren responded hastily. "And I do not know our true numbers. I imagine we are about to find out a large part of the total."

She again studied him out of the corner of her eye as they progressed, the foot traffic becoming heavier as they neared their destination. The strange second presence she had felt suddenly focused to a certain point on the Ithorian, drawing her gaze slightly downwards to one of his hands. Kriffing hell... a holocron.

"How did you come to be here, Jwob? And in possession of that?" She pointed, her liquor-fueled boldness surging with her curiosity. No point in easing up now. Passing a server droid, she quickly snatched two small glasses filled with a dark green liquid. Shooting back one, she held out the other towards her companion, a look of expectancy on her face at both her questions and at whether he would take the proffered beverage.

"Thank you! A nice start to the banquet." Jwob took a drink of the liquid. A strange move for an Ithorian, with two mouths. He tipped his head to the side to drink it. "Yes, my holocron. I picked it up initially in the Lorekeeper's library." He whispered conspiratorially to Syren, "He's not very happy with me right now. I handed him back to the Lorekeeper after my encounter with Abeloth. If you're lucky, he'll talk to us." He picked up two more shots of the green liquid from the droid's tray and handed one to Syren. Then he turned to the server droid, "Keep 'em comin'!" Turning back to Syren as they reached the hall, he said, "I actually came here a couple days ago, myself, to drop off some new items for the Emperor's suite. I've known Lady Bellorum for a couple years, though. Tell me your impression of things so far. I see quite a few... well... mostly humans here. There's a Wookiee over there, but not many aliens."

[At this a bubbling laugh reverberated inside the holocron and it let it's mirth be felt by both of these young students at the mention of being handed back to the Lorekeeper. "Stole me from the library, yes. From the Lorekeeper? No. Was never his, not even when you handed me to him. Merely a talisman was all he saw, until I aided in the Hanger and revealed the deception to him. Ha, Ha!" The whole of the party was soon before them, and it minded this interruption into the two youths conversation little. If anything it was a good reminder of positions, and especially those of power. ]

Syren couldn't help a lop-sided grin as she watched Jwob awkwardly consume the small drink. Continuing to listen to his words, the apprentice found herself intrigued. This well-connected Ithorian had been on quite the adventure it seemed. How he had survived a direct encounter with Abeloth was beyond her. Perhaps if they cross paths again, she would ask him for the details.

As the pair crossed the threshold into the banquet hall, she quickly gulped down the beverage that had been handed to her. Damn. A slight warmness rose in her cheeks, whether from the alcohol or the throngs of Sith that now filled her vision she could not be sure. Grey eyes swept the room to see very few familiar faces in a sea of strangers and she had to suppress the urge to turn around and leave.

"My first impression is that the Sith are danger-fiends who have too many enemies to count,"Syren said while trying not make eye contact with a single soul, save Jwob. Noticing her hands anxiously covering the front of her dress, they were forcibly stilled. "Not that I am complaining." Spying the Wookiee that had been pointed out, she watched as he let out a howl. Well he seemed to be enjoying himself. Speaking of...

Grabbing yet another glass filled with a mysterious liquid from a passing slave, she faced the Ithorian and raised her drink. "I hope we meet again, Jwob. Thank you for the... distraction," she said, knowing he would not understand what she meant. He had kept her from approaching the evening in a thunderous mood so for that, thanks were due. With a slight nod of her head, she turned and followed the nearest wall in avoidance of the crowds, hoping to find a shadowy spot to hide within.

Tags: QueenSabe7, Mitth_Fisto, and anyone who'd like to chat before the festivities

 

IC: Darth Kronos and Esmerelda
(Come on, now, you know who I comboed with)

It had been a trying few days, and more time had been spent in idle chit-chat. The Holocron was interesting, but not sufficiently for her to court an issue with Kronos, whose mind was clearly elsewhere.

She led him, in silence, to his room, fully aware that they had to somewhat hurry. As an Underlord he was a considerably more important man when than she had met him, and she had little doubt that he would become more important still. The Triumvirate's had made the Dark and High Lord positions one of politics; it was not a given that you would need to be a Lord first - look at Darth Bellorum, one day the secret-but-not-especially apprentice of a Dark Lord, the next she was a Dark Lord. So Esmerelda reasoned that Kronos could be elevated with the right nudge in the right place.

But first she had to figure out what had happened. When she got back to the room she spoke up, not looking to Esme. 'I need to shower.' With relatively short trio of movements she stripped, and strode into the shower, keeping it on a lower setting she could speak and be heard, the curtain open to avoid it interfering with her voice. 'So what happened?'

The exchange between the two was silent through the entire way to his room, which would have been awkward if he wasn't already used to the silence from himself, and around others.

Minutes passed, and someone finally said something. Esme had already jumped into the shower, stripping as she did so, and immediately asking him all of the juicy details of his Abeloth vision.

That was quick. Clearly eager, that one.

He silently sighed, closing his eyes, and glancing down at the floor. He was happy that she couldn't see his movements at that moment.

Let's start from the beginning. "Back during the battle, I was tasked with taking out the soldiers near the artillery guns, to open up a space for any friendly aircraft to land. And, from the beginning, things were looking up. The troops were easy to kill, the guns were destroyed. But, Jowb. Shortly after, he began to have some kind of mental breakdown - and I took him out of the war zone. Bellorum seemed fond of the Ithorian, and I didn't want her down my throat if he ended up dead. And I had no idea what happened to him. I obviously didn't want to know," he paused, then exhaled. "But, that wasn't my choice. Abeloth found me, and took over my mind, and the hell began. Most of what I told Jwob wasn't a lie. She did taunt me, she did use her power against my chest, probably cracking a rib or two. It just wasn't with my own life.... It was with yours. She wanted my anger, my hatred, or else she would kill you. As if to illustrate her point, she created some illusion of you in a cage of electricity. And I gave in to her commands. Her grip weakened, and I broke free, trying to slash at anything I could," he let out a small scoff before continuing. "I thought the strike would work. I thought she would be wiped out, and what I now know as an illusion of you to be safe. I was wrong. She levitated it in front of her, acting like a protective shield... and my lightsaber cut directly through your head. And shortly after that, the vision ended, and I was back in the real world.... I blanked out, blood dripping from my mouth afterwards. I could only hear my own thoughts - about how I 'killed' you. I couldn't live with myself. I still held out hope it was all an illusion, that it wasn't real, that it was fake, and you were still fine, working on injured patients in the infirmary. There wasn't much of it. There was a fire of rage burning inside of me, and I wanted, no needed, to let it out. I was half ready to just storm into the Temple, and kill everyone and everything inside. The only thing stopping me was Bellorum, and, eventually, the task at hand.... Now I know it was all a trick, and that my silent, wounded warrior moment meant nothing. I was stupid," he let another pause happen before he would finally finish his long-winded speech, which might come across as strange to the woman, considering he rarely spoke until recently. "Sorry I didn't mention this earlier. I just wasn't comfortable enough telling this in front of Jwob, and especially that Holocron. I hope you understand."

He let the gravity of what he just said to her sink in. This was probably going to be a long night.

Esme stepped out of the shower, towel to her waist and another to her hair, cutting short the water so she could listen. This was important. Esme would accept having the smell of death washed off her for now. A full ministration would have to wait. Maybe they could sneak back during the festivities, she slyly thought, as an aside to what was probably the longest speech that Darth Kronos had ever given.

Abeloth had gone straight for his weakness; her. Or, more specifically, his feelings for her. As ever, the tentacled one cut across deeper strategies with her flailing. Esme shook her head at how horrible an image it was of her head so wounded.

A glitter of tears caught her eyes, and she released what she had been holding to place her hands on either side of his face.

'You did good, Kronos. You acted to free yourself, to escape her hold. Even if you did not know whether I was real or not, you did what you needed to. Never, ever apologise for that, my love. Ever.' Her thumb affectionately brushed his skin. 'You must do what you have to, in order to be great. Love is about putting the other person before you - and I would not wish to come between you and your destiny.'

She rested her still-wet hair on his chest, listened to, and felt, his heartbeat through his garb. 'Abeloth was a monster. The Emperor took our prayers and defeated her, saving us from her and that rot monster. But it was not done without us. Without your strength. You are so beautiful to me - for worrying so much about me, that Abeloth could use it against you.'

She stepped away, smiling slightly. 'So, yes, I do understand. Very much so. You were not stupid, you were quite the opposite. That Abeloth takes advantage of powerful emotions is not a negative to you - that you have power at all shows your import. I hear she didn't try to mess with Darth Arach - and she's a High Lord!'

Esmerelda turned away and dropped the towel as she adorned herself. The dress she chose was blood-red one with a yellow front running down from her chest downwards, the colour starting beneath her bosom and touching the bottom of the clothe, which itself was slightly shortly than the underdress which was a white, giving an impression of blood pouring down onto innocence with the hem. Very apt.

She did this while he responded. Esme knew that she had spoken for too long, and words were not his function; action was, but he needed these words. And so she had said them.

Esme had quickly responding, seemingly already knowing what to say to him to make him feel better. He listened to every word as she put her hands on his now uncovered face, rubbing her thumb across his cheek as she spoke. Which was sweet.

On top of that, she pressed her still wet hair on his chest, causing a water stain to form directly on the spot. Her ear was near his heart, and it felt like she was listening for his heartbeat. In response to this, Kronos lightly wrapped his arms around her waist, in some form of a hug. He reckoned she would enjoy that.

At least somewhat.

She stepped back, deciding to change into her dresswear for the feast that would be commencing later in the day. He still didn't trust it, and would have his lightsaber on standby, ready to strike at anything that would dare to interrupt a feast.

But, he had no idea how to respond to her own speech - something that she would probably want to hear. He felt as if he had to say something. He thought that he should confirm what she was probably thinking. At least, he thought so. There was a look in her eyes. "Thanks.... I needed that.... You're one of the few people I'm comfortable around these days. I don't know... it just feels as if everyone else is trying to figure out some way to backstab you, leave you for dead in the middle of space, and take everything you own. You seem like the only one here who isn't some vapid prick who would take the first opportunity they had to use whatever they had against you. And I like that. It's sweet.... It's probably strange, considering I've only known you for about a week. It was certainly a good week."

He watched her change into her dress, which featured a particulary sinister looking feel to it; blood-red colors were splashed onto it, and a white underdress, giving the appearance of blood spilling over her - an innocent looking girl.

He followed in Esme's footsteps. "I'm going to change too. Be right back."

He moved into the back of his room, and pulled out a small case from under his bed, which he unlocked. Inside was what he decided he would be wearing to the feast. He had came up with it on a whim, not giving it the biggest of thought. But, after the Battle of Moraband, and being caught completely off guard, he wanted to be prepared. As he took off his usual wear, a cloak-and-cape-like suit that featured a crimson red stripe going down the edges of it, which was also torn and shattered from the three battles he had been in through the... what was it, a week, he had been inside the Sith Temple. This was a rowdy crowd.

He put his usual attire onto the foot if his bed, now slipping on his new clothes, which had multiple pieces of armor placed, one on his chest, and two on his arms. He had standard black boots on, which was made up of some kind of leathery substance, something Kronos did not know the name of. He had a brownish-black pair of pants on, half of them covered by the black boots, and the top held together by a belt which appeared to have multiple shimmering silver jewels laced inside of it. The belt strung into two pieces, one of them moving upward onto his right, lower side, allowing the belt to be sturdy. Around his neck was a blackish cape, which as tattered at the bottom. It was the best he could get on such short notice, but he thought it looked decent - it gave him more of a war veteran look, and it didn't make him look homeless, or something, which was what his usual attire did.

The armor was resistant to laser bolts, so he was covered on that front. But, it was not lightsaber proof. The weapon could easily slice through the armor. He had faith in his abilities to keep him, and Esmerelda, safe.

He clipped his lightsaber onto the proper place, and his new, and perhaps permanent, look was finished. He didn't really need to show it off to his woman. He expected that she watched him change, and he found that strangely flattering.

He then groomed his har, wanting it to flow downwards instead of spiking up in every direction he thought possible. He brought it down, as it then went directly to the back of his neck, part of it hanging down across his face. He probably looked like a bratty emo kid.

He also shaved his beard with a small knife-like weapon - he called it a weapon anyway, anything can be a weapon if you try hard enough, especially something as sharp as that. His facial hair was getting out of hand. If he didn't trim it down, there would be one more thing adding onto his previous homeless man look.

He was under the impression that the Triumvirate wanted each and every one of them to look their best. Punishment would be death.

Probably.

Spoiler

Esmerelda smiled at Kronos as she sorted her hair; dried it, wove it into trestles, and then added to it little ornamental skulls for novelty sake. She generally glowed as Kronos spoke. He had touched upon their essence.

'At the end of the day, we click. We connect. We have that spark. That... Softness and suppleness that shows we fit together.' It wasn't adolescent, it was simply pure.

They were, in short order, ready. Taking a step to the door, she smoothed out her dress one more time and outright affected a grin. 'Shall we?'

As she sorted her hair by drying it and putting it into a more unique pattern than he had seen before, she continued, replying to him. She reckoned that that they just click, that it was just meant to be, that they have some kind of softness which makes them fit together. And she was right.

The two were now ready, new outfits and all. Esme had already moved towards the door, straightening out her dress for what would probably be for the final time, unless something else went down in the feast.

He smiled back at her. "My pleasure."

He proceeded to escort her out the door, and into the main room of the Temple for the occasion.

TAG: No one... maybe Sinrebirth