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Darth Nyrys

Cathar

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Cathar

Astrographical Information
Region: Outer Rim
Sector: Quelii
System: Cathar System
Orbital Position: Only planet mentioned
Moons: One
Grid Coordinates: O14

Physical Information
Class: Terrestrial
Atmosphere: Type 1 Breathable Oxygen Mix
Primary Terrain: Savannahs, Rough Uplands

Points of Interest: Vast Veldt

Societal Information
Indigenous Species: Cathar
Immigrated Species: None
Primary Language(s): Catharese
Faction Affiliation: Neutral

Defense Rating: Three

 

Description: A world of golden savannahs and massive city trees, Cathar has managed to retain its natural beauty through the Cathar culture's deeply held belief of living in harmony with the world. Fully recovered from the Mandalorian atrocities of the Old Republic era, the Cathar people have faded from the public eye and largely enjoyed a period of peaceful isolation.

 

First post goes to Ailbasí Zirtani

Edited by Ailbasí Zirtani

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Cathar was a blue and gold jewel suspended amidst a black velvet bed of ether. Ailbasí regarded it with equal parts anticipation and dread. It would be an easy assumption to make that with her schooling she was knowledgeable about the traditions and culture of her people in spite of her offworld origins. It was a wrong assumption. Her Cathar mother had survived Kuat by adapting to its ways, and any college courses she looked into always wanted to focus on the Mandalorian invasion and a never ending stream of holovids and stills of the slaughter. The holonet was no better, filled with hubs made by xenophobic edgelords who loved commenting that the Mandalorians missed a few, and well meaning humans that were bewitched by the culture and wanted to be a part of it by offering up their own loose interpretations or even flat out fantasies of Cathar culture. Whether out of hate or love, humanity had a tendency to bad touch everything it came into contact with.

 

Ailbasí arrived on chartered transport, Ca’airan had her ship and arriving on a cargo transport would not gel well with her purported backstory. According to the documents that she had submitted she was a holovid recording technician visiting on a uni contract, and Ca’airan was a big game hunter looking to add some Kiltik trophies to his collection. The best lies were so close to the truth that they blurred the lines between them. Speaking of, she donned the rest of her outfit, which covered enough of her to make her species ambiguous. She was not ready to be labeled “Not Cathar enough” immediately upon arrival. She had put together something “expeditionary” feeling with light tan fabrics that would protect from exposure but not leave her melting. Gwn Marwolaeth was concealed in an equipment bag that would not leave her side. A military grade recon imagifier masquerading as a holocam hung from her hip.

 

Departing the spaceport, she set foot for the first time on her ancestral homeworld. Even through her mask a number of alien smells, sounds, and images rioted through her brain. She was a stranger to her own cradle. She hurried quickly to her destination, hoping for a smaller slice of overwhelming.

 

Beside her, a long wooden case with a golden engraved placard that simply stated “Better than flowers”. It was a token of thanks and appreciation for Ca’airan, a customized EXP-9. That was part of real courtship, right? Granted most people couldn’t afford such a gesture or might have started more simply, but she had more feelings than she knew what to do with, so much so that she felt like she might explode. On a rational level she knew that she was in the early stages of infatuation, but this was the first time that she felt both parties wanted the same thing, and so she was willingly and brazenly riding the wave instead of lowering her expectations.

 

Her luggage had been sent to the room they would be staying at, but she was in a gathering area of tents near the roots of the citytree. Recon meant getting out and seeing the planet, scouting possibilities, and she had found a hunting excursion tour that would allow them to surveil numerous possibilities, with less and less oversight as the guides weeded out the ones in over their heads. It was here that she would meet Ca’airan.


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The space port was slightly different than any he had encountered before.  It was not as cultural mixed as he had anticipated but then again, the Cathar no longer really ventured out into the greater galactic community.  He surveyed his papers and smirked at his luck as being accepted on a hunting trip that was also doubling as a research trip for the elderly gentlemen, he had the pleasure of talking to on his previous stop.  He looked forward to catching up with him if he could.  Searching around the port left him little time for relaxation as he knew he needed to meet up with his outfit relatively quickly.

 

He was outfitted as normal with no major plans of participating in the hunt beyond perhaps the tracking of the animal.  His hope was to learn of the native flora and fauna and to observe traditional Cathar hunting styles.  He had taken the precaution of buying a modified slug rifle in case they insisted he have a firearm beyond his pistol, but he wasn't too worried.  He was excited, more excited than he had been in quite some time.  Here on this remote world he hoped to get some alone time in the wilds to meditate and try again to understand his weird ability to move things about, up till now it always only happened accidently and never in any intended fashion. 

 

Smiling he walked towards a large group after getting some directions from a local.  Let the adventure on Cathar begin.

Edited by Kellanderos

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With esteemed majesty and grace, the Best Behavior emerged from hyperspace at the edges of the Cathar system. The ship banked towards the golden planet and after a few terse words from the captain to the local authorities in some hissing howling language that Ca’Aran could only grimace at, they were joined on either side of the ship by a half flight of Z-95 headhunters from the central garrison. Probably just a safety detail, But Delta made sure he still had his blaster slung at his side. It fit with his costume anyway. He was not in armour this time, nor any kind of Black Sun stately uniform like he was used to. All of his old clothes were stored aboard the Marie and would be somewhere else in system, awaiting further orders. So he wore a cobbled together mix of rugged stylish clothes some seven decades out of style. He wore a wide brimmed hat from which dangled the teeth of a Corangi Lion cub from leather strips which was considered big game if you were an ewok.He strode down the ramp in style, hand on his overbig knife and greeting the immigration officials with a chipper backwoods accent. Calling them all “mates” like he was from Nordsikke back on Haruun Kal. He tipped his hat to the lovely black hair cathar he had come to like and passed her the Forged ID she had requested.

“Oy mate pleasur’ to see yah. Gotta show you this knoife later back at the ‘otel!”


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Commander - Darkhand Brigade - Sith Empire

Blood Prince

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“Oh, how adorable, it’s like a teacup sword!” Ailbasí leaned in conspiratorially and whispered “If you drop the accent I’ll let you get your hands on my box. What do you say, Mr…” Her outfit prevented her from giving Ca’airan a proper kiss so she balanced on the tips of her toes and pressed her forehead against his like he had done last time. Her hands went exploring for his fake ID so that she could know what to call him, and while he had an abnormally large number of pockets, she didn’t mind the journey to the destination. At last she found what she was looking for and pulled it out to read what his chosen sine nomine was.

 

Stifling a giggle, she returned the multipass to his pocket. “That’s a big legacy to live up to, Mr. Rockard, you going to show me that in the “‘otel” too?” Celebrities and nobles alike tended to travel under false names to elude stalkers, journalists, and kidnappers. All you had to do to be mistaken for someone like that was drop stacks of credits and behave like a spoiled child with more money than responsibilities. Governments couldn’t fund spies to act like this so it was a solid cover of half truths. Besides, after her time on Korriban she was ready to deep dive into a ball pit of irresponsibility.

 

“Seriously though… “Lance”... thank you for coming out here with me. This is for you, a token of my appreciation.” She flipped open the clasps to reveal a custom order EXP-9, engraved with the name of a hunting god that she had read about in uni, and a pair of cat eyes serving as a wordless reminder of who the gift was from. She wrapped an arm around his waist and braced for his response, hoping he liked it.

 

Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted a chiss that for some reason had an unshakeable sense of familiarity to him, even though she could not recall having ever met a chiss before other than Darth Sensara. Normally she would chalk it up to a strange coincidence, but the feeling was so powerful that she felt compelled to investigate. Chiss were a rare sight beyond their borders, and largely kept to themselves.


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With a cough that was much more meant for the stage than in a spaceport Delta wiped the accent off of his tongue with all the force of a death star laser beam plowing through alderaanian schoolhouses. With one hand he tore the hat from his brow and tossed it underhand back on board the ship where is smacked into the back of a hauling droid. He pressed his forehead firmly into hers in the classic Mandalorian keldabe kiss, then crouched and turned it into a more human kiss. Since it would not do to expose himself as mandalorian to these Cathar that were somehow pissed about a ‘minor genocide’ from some four thousand years ago.

That would be like being mad over Exar Kun and Uliq Kel Droma massacring the Massassi. And literally no one was mad about that. Or even was interested in seeing that brutish species return to the fold of the galactic frontier. But people had to have an identity and the Cathars seemed to embrace full heartedly the victim mentality that plagued so many. So Delta would keep quiet and secretly wish Mandalore Terra would come and finish the job of Cassus Fett, in some kind of Albigensian Crusade.

He let out a low whistle at the EXP-9 and gave her a fierce and loving hug.

“You know I couldn’t have wanted anything different. Thank you so much Ailbasi.”

He held her close as he pulled the last of the wrappings off the mighty weapon and slung it comfortably at his side. His eyes also finding the Chissari that the Cathar girl seemed to be watching.

“What's with blueman group? Do you know him?”

He continued to walk beside her towards the exit of the starport.


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Commander - Darkhand Brigade - Sith Empire

Blood Prince

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The stragne women with the group of hunters flirting with the larger male caught his attention.  For some reason he felt that he should know this person but just chalked it up to one of those moments of perhaps seeing someone similar in his travels.  He proceeded to head out of the port towards the muster point for the safari.  He was curious if he woudl get the chance to meditate and wonder away from the group and was hoping it would happen, then again learning the hunting habits of the locals wouldn't be bad either.  Shrugging to himself he watched the women and man leave and shook his head again at the strange feeling.  No matter, now was not the time to worry about such a pointless matter, now was the time to learn about Cathar and its natives.

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“Oh pfaskles, that sneaky kath. “Management” wants me to collect him for orientation. You know what, I’m not going to let her ruin date-cation, I’m going to request a second trainee so that I can have them occupy each other while you occupy me. I do still have to collect this one though, so bear with me.”

Ailbasí sent off an encrypted message to her handler and proceeded to approach the Chiss. From what she could recall, direct, formal, and businesslike would be the best avenue culturally speaking. But first they needed privacy. And legitimacy. In a different lifetime this would have been nerve wracking, and Ailbasí would have been tripping over her own words and nerves. She was something new now though, only Ca’airan had any connection to those vestiges of the girl she was. She saved that part of herself for him, like a still in the package limited run Demon Knights of Infinite Chains premium collector's edition figurine.

Darth Nyrys exuded confidence as she walked up to the Chiss and put her hand on his shoulder firmly but not forcefully. She mustered all of her fine control of the Force to channel a sensation of power through the touch, neither controlling or seductively undermining, instead like a prompting question asking with unhearable words.

Would you like to know more?


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“Your name, what is it?”


It had been weeks since the question was beaten into him, bruised knuckles and broken bones could not surface the answer from his mouth. It was no stalwart measure of will that kept him quiet in the face of his slavers, his mind was just blank. Bizarre really, the only thoughts he owned was what was immediately before him. Discomfort, blood and obnoxious extraterrestrial traffickers, those were a few that stood out. He had traveled and seen the most beautiful of planets, almost all of them riddled with plantations of those that were just as servile as he was forced to be. It was the question of his name that bothered him the most on the account that, no matter where he was, that question was asked by all. 

 

“Hey buddy, what do they call ‘ya?

You gotta have a name, right?”

 


No, but perhaps maybe he had one. His features were known to make bystanders wide-eyed. He could never understand if it was familiarity or shame, the details and differences did not matter when his next meal was often moons apart. He wasn't dead at least, and the fear of death had been erased since his near fatal disposal from the escape hatch of that twisted luxury liner. The man called himself a Sith, the one that pulled the door from his cell and freed him without second thought, such power was cemented in his mind. Every time the memory played out in his mind, he remembered it a little differently, each time more heroic and stunning than the last. What was his name?


“We found you a new home, Mutt. You fetched a pretty price, but with some people I never plan to meet, so yer on your own from here."  

 

003 stepped from the ground transport, while his slaver pulled the sack from his head, and unhinged the shackles on his wrist. He handed him some papers, some of which were stamped with a familiar face. "Is that what I look like?" The thought jumped out at him, distracting him from the repulsive cackle that his slaver ended nearly every phrase with. His stomach growled harder than last time, and he pulled his eyes from the small documents that were now crammed into both hands. He noticed that his Master moved and operated with a desperate urgency, extremely uncharacteristic for a creature that held a tight charge to those that served. Perhaps their lives were in danger again, especially in this place where they stood out like a sore thumb. His clothes were ragged, sweat-stained under the armpits, and quite obviously not coherent with the fashion of this place. Still, strange creatures brushed by him, looking either curious or confused. "What is this place?" They looked nothing like his slaver, who was unsightly by all means, but these things were terrifyingly inhuman. If he had to guess, these were the indigenous people of the planet, and he had seen nothing like them on all of the planets he had traveled too.  They held a most frightening poise, and 003 simply watched them trek onward, too occupied by their own accord to notice how broken his world was.

 

No danger. He stood for quite some time, awkwardly so, observing the world around him, not realizing that his slaver had truly left without him and there was no one left to keep him from running. His empty auburn gaze searched for direction, while his left hand subconsciously scratched at the long scars underneath the back of his off-white shirt. "What is a Darth Nyrys?" Frustration started to sink deep; while the words always played at the tip of his tongue but never jumped, his mind contrarily felt like a stone-cold wall, unmoving and lifeless. Exhaustion depleted his motivation to move, and he wandered slowly to the nearest building and leaned against it. Stuffing the small documents into his unhemmed pant pocket, he closed his eyes and breathed the foreign air in with a deep sigh. He blinked, swore he saw a blue man pass him by, and knew he had truly lost his mind.


 

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The press of the hand on his shoulder and surge of power it sent through him alerted him to the proximity of someone that seemed to be able to control the strange power he had.  Without giving any overt indication that he was thrown off by the realization he turned his head slightly to inspect the person that had touched him.  

"I may be interested but I would request that you don't touch me till we are formally introduced.  My name is Fer'drag'onisi, you may call me Drago if that is easier for you.  May I ask what I may call you?"  Without attempting to be rude Drago stepped forward slightly to remove her hand while turning to face her completely.  She was not a large women and seemed to be exuding a strange sense of authority he hadn't noticed before.  This was, if nothing else, going to be an interesting conversation.

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Delta let out a deep breath as the lovely black furred girl went off to talk to whatever the Sith had sent their way. The passion and speed of the relationship between them seemed to have taken his breath away, but now as he watched her walk away he could feel lingering doubts start to spring up like termites out of a akanian wood. He took a breath, than another, and another trying to suppress them but they kept coming.

Why would she even like me? Why would she even care?

It was then that it finally clicked.

He was no longer the soldier pretending to be a criminal. Committing stupid acts of terror to shock the galaxy on a meme, in order to advance the agenda of a sith lord. He wasn’t some good guy that he saw himself as. He hadn’t been for a very long time. Over a hundred years ago he had killed the one woman that loved him for what He was. Now he could blame that on circumstance, on engrained training. But that didn’t take the blaster bolts back, or the fact that he pulled that trigger. He wanted to cry out that evil wasn’t him.

But it all was him. He was disgusting. And as Delta’s hard blue eyes watched the descendant of Dagon conduct her Sithly business, he realized he hated himself. Every single part. He kept silent, his eyes taking in the lot, as his mind raged against itself. All spawned from the idea of love.


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Commander - Darkhand Brigade - Sith Empire

Blood Prince

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"You may address me as Darth Nyrys, sent by our mutual associate Darth Sensara."

Her words were a low whisper in case anyone had a notion to eavesdrop. Ailbasi didn't know if Drago knew of Darth Sensara, or if she simply kept her ear to the ground for Chiss potentials. Sensara seemed like the type of person who liked to accumulate favors, like an elegant blue spider at the center of a silken web. It wasn't really her style, but she could respect that Sensara had carved out her own niche in the empire.

She looked over to Ca'airan, who had a distant look on his face. Maybe she had pulled him away from some important matter that occupied his thoughts until it could be addressed properly. He had been a constant safe harbor when she needed, but part of her worried that she was just the flavor of the month, a pleasant distraction to be discarded when interest faded. He had kept her from going off the deep end, becoming a real monster of the darkness, and that lent a sort of manic intensity to her feelings. In the sanctuary of privacy she would do her best to ease his mind and offer him some of the same stability that he gave her. Whatever it takes.

Her mind snapped back to the present and she regarded the Chiss again. Looking at him was like looking at a living library, with everything labeled and filed in the appropriate place. A mechanical mind of gears, levers, and ticking clocks. She led them into a cargo holding bay for privacy before continuing any further.

"I represent a group of people who believe in seeking out the mysteries and truths of the galaxy, regardless of how dark a path it takes to get there."


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The name she mentioned triggered a minor flash of memory, a conversation overheard in a crowded bar.  He had some basic knowledge of the sith and new some of their names but for the most part had no set aside to much of his mental capacity to know them in detail.  He studied the women before him and pondered the best course of action.  Reaching into his memories he tried to bring front any stories or information he had regarding the sith and their motivations.

"The ancient mysteries of the universe are to be sought often and with great vigor, however you are correct dark paths must sometime be taken to get there.  That is not to say a more nuetral path shouldn't be sought.   You claim to be a Sith Lord, though I must admit searching my memory I have not heard of you.  That withstanding what is it our supposedly mutual friend would like to discuss with me?  I am sorry to be blunt but it has taken some time to obtain permission to hunt on this world and study it so I am loath to leave without some form of legitimate reason."

He continuted his observation of her, making a note of the glance she spared the heavily armed fellow near the expedition.  The way she was interacting with him indicated a relationship but weather serious one or one of more of a daliance he coudn't say.  Perhaps a guard of some kind with a special connection.  It didn't matter, it was simply information to be filed away for later use should he continue to interact with this women.

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"Oh, by all means continue with your hunt, I have every intention of participating as well. Darth Sensara sent me to initiate you into the secrets of Sith sorcery, if you have the inclination. The choice is yours, Drago, but there is clearly a more beneficial choice here. If you agree to study under my tutelage you will face times of hardship and loss, but the benefits will more than make up for them. If you decline, either you will go through life with some of the deepest knowledge of existence denied to you, or being regarded as someone who when initially offered the opportunity flinched. Don't flinch.

And while I may not be a household name as a Sith Lord, before my own conversion to the Sith faith I was an instructor at Charmath University, so you will get a proper education from me rather than just being dropped in the middle of an unfamiliar wilderness and being told to trust your instincts."


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The offer of knowledge as always tempted him greatly, it was to some a weakness of his to seek to always be learning.  Many such persons had learned to late that assuming him bookish and bookish alone, had proven fatal.  Were they wrong in considering his thirst for knowledge a flaw, perhaps, perhaps not.  Either way his desire to know did tend to overwhelm his good sense.  This women before him was offering a chance to unlock knowledge that would be forever out of his reach.   He knew that regardless of how the Jedi portrayed the Sith they were a group possessing great knowledge.

"So if I accept this offer, I would become some form of pupil and you would assist me in unlocking this knowledge of existence?  You would help me attempt to answer a question whose answer I have sought for as long as I can remember?  A question that many say have no answer. "  After a long pause Drago bows,  "I believe I find you interesting and honest enough to be worth taking the risk.  I accept, let us hope this proves to be a mutually beneficial arrangement."

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N Y R Y S


The name, or so it sounded, echoed out loud. 003 hiccuped with alarm, eyes darting back and forth widely, curiously asking why no one else around him was shocked by how loud the voice was. Not one person. Perhaps these creatures were hard of hearing, or perhaps he was trapped in a deep sleep, one in which his escape from servitude was the cusp of his bliss. Unfamiliar hands rose to touch his face, hands that were tirelessly burdened by the weight of laborious tasks, this did not feel as dreams did. Her voice endured inside of his mind, the faint trace of words still chiming inside of his ear, words both unrecognizable and inherently powerful. He closed his eyes, and placed the palms of both hands against his temples for focus.  

“What is wrong with me?”

 

What this madness? His body pushed itself from his resting position, subconsciously operating without his permissions. He paced when he was anxious, a quirk so stemmed in his behaviour, it existed since before the drama held on that liner. Here and now, he paced harder. His proprietor had vanished and the enslaved accompaniments with him had left as well. There were feral but sophisticated creatures that nudged by him every few moments, and by their expressions, he began to wonder if he was not welcome here. “Who is she? And why does no one else hear her?” His feet carried him but his mind was blindly racing. 003 dangerously kept his eyelids closed,  carelessly thumping into hair-raising animals was the least of his worries, considering he adamantly questioned if his his memories were failing because his brain had been reduced to complete lunacy. “Why won’t these animals just get out of my way?!” Then, aggressively, he stumbled.

 

Opening his eyes in frustration, his surprise came as his reality drew whole once more. It was a surprise fully painted across his haggard features, for his feet had carried him more than just a few paces, he looked up from where he had fallen and saw what his soul had heard. What he saw, he was unsure of, but his instinct knew that the words had come from this one. He was certain of this, but disoriented in how he had found this place. And with his jaw loosened in awe, he stood and reached into his pocket for those same documents that had her name written upon them. Crumpled and now smeared lightly by the mire of his hands, he approached Darth Nyrys.
 

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"Excellent, I'll be training another alongside you. Traditionally Sith apprentices in this situation are pitted against each other to draw out their ambition, whet their desire for victory, and motivate them to push beyond the baseline expectations of the coursework. We..."

A human man, or the cadaverous remnant of one, tumbled into the room with all of the grace of a drunken gundark. Ailbasí wasn't sure if it was her Force sensitivity or her nose that that first warned her of his approach, he wreaked of poor hygiene. At first she thought he might be some homeless drifter, but then she noticed the papers he carried. With a gesture they fled his hand and found her own with rapid surety. Smeared as they were in filth, they were still legible.

"...will be going in a different direction on account of the state of the other apprentice. This is Mister Snuffles, I'm sure he has a real people name but apparently that didn't work out for him so we're rolling with my first pet's name so that there's something about him that's likeable. Mister Snuffles is your exam book, your evolving mark of progress upon the path to Sithhood. If he fails, you fail. If he triumphs, you get to unravel your grand mysteries. Once he gets to a place that's not terrible we can adjust the dynamic accordingly, but your first quest is to get Mister Snuffles cleaned up for the hunt before somebody vomits from the stench. I'll arrange for his inclusion with the huntmaster."


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It was odd to him that the sith would bother using the force to obtain a letter.  However given the state of the messenger it was perhaps safer.  While madmen in some cultures were revered as profits and sages, others viewed them as people to be avoided.  The interesting thing in this instance was that this creature was somehow of use to the Sith.  Perhaps he was one of the former examples of a madman and had a strange ability to use the force to read the future.  Legends had spoken of such beings. 

Coming to a decision he stepped forward and politely nodded his head before extending his hand.  "I am Fer'drag'onisi, you may call me Drogo.  It is a pleasure to meet you, as you seem to know my new associate.   What is your name?"

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He went to mouth the words, while staggering to stand up once more from his embarrassing fall. The words did not come, and his mouth remained shut. In his head he heard the words Mister Snuffles play out in the voice of the woman creature, and then the words zero-zero-three clawed out in another voice, the voice of his previous master. Both were answers to that same question they had all wondered about him, but answers that were foreign to his mind and his tongue. Therefore, the failing husk of a man stood awkwardly, staring towards the man with blue skin and the blackest of hair. Drago was what they called him, for he had a name and a purpose, and now this man approached with a gesture he was vaguely familiar with. The hand extended in courtesy, or at least in fellowship, but he could not recollect what it meant for sure. "Master would have rations by now, could it be.."

 

The auburn tinge in his eyes itched with slightly more enthusiasm at the thought of food, and he straightened out, confused by the offering. 003, or Mister Snuffles, reached out with an open palm and grasped the hand of the blue man. He turned the hand over to find it empty, which fueled the confusion inside of his mind. His name, it was his name again, if he knew what his name was, perhaps there would be a reward. 003 stepped backwards, releasing the empty hand of Drago, now palming his own forehead to try and stimulate his memory. These people gathered here must've wondered if he was a fool; thoughts of deprecation began to distract him now. He knew they drew judgment because of how he appeared, and the muck he carried with him in every direction he walked. He broke his concentration and took a subtle whiff of himself, now understanding the stench the woman creature spoke of, and the thought of running now became real. He fidgeted in his stance as the quiet grew increasingly more uncomfortable,

 

And then it dawned on him.

 

003 smiled unusually, surprise was written all over his face. He pulled the long left sleeve of his white shirt up to his elbow, and then stuck his wrist out for Drago to see. He did it with more pride than he intended, unashamed of the raised flesh that was burned into him that read; 0 0 3. That was what they had named him. 


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The creature had an interesting reaction to his offered hand, no not creature for it was certainly a man.  He appeared to be offering up his arm as an explanation for his name.  003.  How strange, a slave one would assume yet obviously more if somehow affiliated with the sith.  How strange, a simple glance at the man tells you he is malnurished and in no fit mind, yet he was here and had attracted the attention of a sith, a new sith, but still a sith.  If he was a former slave the method for handling him could be as simple as issuing commands, however should he be some form of sith in disguise or some form of prospect now seemed an appropriate time to attempt to make an ally.

Slowly reaching into his pack Drago produced a condensed protein bar he carried in his travlels.  Unwrapping the package he offered it to the man known as 003.  "It is an interesting pleasure to meet you 3, here you appear that you could use some food and then perhaps you can focus enough for us to talk."  He stood offering the food and waited to see what the strange man would do.

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He would be disappointed.

 

Trauma had consumed the best of him, his mind was an uncoordinated patchwork quilt. There was no beginning, and no end. Conversation was a luxury that he could not afford, nor could the newly introduced complexities of his brain allow his mouth to move. Three, stood there, wondering if the offering of food was really without remuneration. Drago moved slowly, measurably, as if showing that he was attentive to the current state of the former slave. Perhaps the payment needed was conversation, but Three winced at the idea whenever he tried to reach into the banks of his memory to do so publicly. Three reached out and took the protein bar, then ate it whole without a second thought. The taste was overwhelming, and the flavor sank so deeply that he nearly spilled saliva from the corners of his closed lips. The provision was more relishing than the expired chunks of bread that was usually tossed at his feet. 

 

Three smiled.

 

Surprisingly, his teeth were perfectly aligned and quite healthy-looking, but could use a good cleaning if the chance arose. It was all he could muster here and now, especially with the attention of the others in the room. He was still unsure of what was to transpire, and who all of these people actually were. The woman with the voice, the other man that stood nearby, and the blue man who now offered him nourishment. He smiled at the blue man, and for a moment, it would be easy for one to imagine how Three would look if cleaned up. Unfortunately for them, this slave was involuntarily muted, and his traumatism would continue until a breakthrough could occur.


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“Let’s head back to my ship, I can cover the basics and get you a bit more recovered than any protein bar will.”

The distance to the ship was not far, which was a relief as their group was growing ever more odd and memorable. The Best Behavior, a star yacht of quality design and luxury interior, would offer them temporary privacy to at least start training. The ship was probably the last tie to her old life, and packed full of memories, but she had begun to suspect that it would soon be time for something better suited to her new life. While musing she led her strange procession into the largest open space on the ship, a rec room that allowed for zero-g in space.

“I am here to instruct you in the teachings of the Sith, and how to control the Force. Perhaps you already have ideas or preconceptions about the Force and the people that use it, but I advise that you leave those notions behind, because the way that you perceive everything is about to change.”

As if to punctuate her point, Darth Nyrys removed her headgear for the first time in their presence, revealing both her Cathar visage and her crimson pearlescent eyes ablaze with dark energies. She reached out, not physically but spiritually, to Draygo and created a connection through the Force. His presence was clockwork and meticulous, a marvel of intricacies.

“Feel the Force through me, feel what I feel. The first step in this endeavor is knowing that the Force is a Truth, not a con, technological misdirection, or pharmaceutically enhanced illusion. There is a universal power in the galaxy, and you can not only observe it, but learn to shape it to your will.”

Her own presence must have been a riot of sensations to the Chiss, molten instincts and visceral understanding to his cold calculations and academic knowledge. She had come from the academic world, could understand its value, but she had left that path behind her long enough ago for it to feel distant and ephemeral. She reached out to 03 next, hoping to find answers, but his silent blankness was neither a matter of deception or fear. It was like someone had smeared black ichor over the vast majority of his mind, and it had hardened into a featureless chill lump. She poked at it randomly, and on some primitive level 03 was aware of the pressure and went into an intuitive fighting stance.

“So you’re a fighter, then we have something in common. I don’t know enough about mind mojo to try removing the null that was put on your brain without risking serious damage, but we can at least attempt to draw out more latent reactions through poking and prodding. I’m going to mainline you some of my energy. It won’t replace rest and proper nutrition, but we will have to make due since we are on crunch time.”

In truth, reversing the flow was something that Ailbasí had never tried before, but life energy was life energy, in fact most hers wasn’t hers originally. Feeding off of others was nearly a necessity due to her unnatural biology. She made the connection, and the energy moved like a wave of fire into 03. Much more so than she had anticipated. Her fur faded to albino white again and she doubled over with sudden fatigue and nausea.

“Spar, see if that knocks anything loose in your brain, ship surveillance will capture the session. I overdid the transfer and I think it’s naptime. Delta, could you be a dear and get me to my quarters, maybe grab a walking snack pack from the spaceport?”

The world spun off kilter and blackness intermittently enshrouded and retreated from her mind.     


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Delta had, for a time watched the interactions of the Sith acolytes and their college aged master. It was strange to him to see their style of interaction, there was no grandeur in it like he was accustomed to seeing with Lord Ar-Pharazon or the Hutt Sheogorath. Both of whom he still considered as friends, for nothing really tied a group together like Terrorism. A pang of regret hit again and Delta turned the rush of emotions into a clenched fist and he distracted himself by looking at the holonet on his datapad, surprised to see that Terra’s group of fundamentalists had turned themselves into a real galactic threat. He sighed when suddenly he heard the voice of Ailbasí, tired and almost pained speak to him about taking her to her quarters.

He glanced up and the colour drained out of his tan visage almost as fast as she had also turned pearl white. He wanted to say something that would make her laugh but instead let the Datapad drop into the front pocket of his many pocketed hunting jacket. With strong hands he reached down and grabbed her under the arms and lifted her like a father would lift a small child.

“You’ll be all right, I getcha whatever you need ok, I’ll even grab several of em.” He had a mission now, a vile mission

With little effort he carried the light weighted sith lord to her room and sat her down on her bed. He grabbed a trashbin and placed it beside the bed in case she would be sick and with a kiss on her forehead and a quick tucking in of blankets he stalked out of the door, down the ramp, and into the spaceport. His ice blue eyes searching unfamiliar signs for any clue that would bring him to a black market. It was easy enough once he saw the first sign containing a small sun surrounded by spikes. The symbol of the Black Sun and its undermarket. Now he could have just gone around the spaceport until he found a victim to kidnap, and as he walked the stairs down into the underbelly of the spaceport he did consider doing such a thing, but something stopped him. Perhaps it was a last bit of maligned conscience, or the knowledge that with enough effort by the local feds any kidnapping could go horribly awry, and having been on the wrong end of such an experience on the bothan homeworld, he was not eager to go toe to toe with an entire civilizations defense force again.

He could get his lover food enough from the underworld, and he had credits enough.

“What are you looking for Blood Prince?” Said a cybernetic Cathar who had long ago sold her soul to the devil that was black sun. She used his formal title as the flag on his identity chip had told her to use.

 

“I am looking for slaves, three of them, on the cusp of adulthood with or without latent force ability. And you can take it off my chit, as well as a thousand for yourself of course.” That stirred a grin from the cathar and as her fingers flew over the datapad, he watched a series of faces pop up and be dismissed in the holographic readout. Every time he lifted his finger the faces stopped  and with a nod he would select one, and the face would continue splashing across the screen. “You have good stock today…”

“Well Kuat and Carida gave us many young and virile specimens to select from. As you would know commander. They aren't broken in though, and outside of manual labour you may need to mindwipe them”

He nearly winced to his own surprise at the thought of thousands of children being tossed headlong into slavery because he had assisted the Sith in their takeover of the coreworlds. Was it worth it? Was any of it worth it? He lifted his finger a final time and was staring into a holographic image of a girl with red hair, maybe fourteen, with a lively sneer on her face. Blue eyes. Kailen’s eyes.

“I’ll take the three, give them all a mixture of Chlordiazepoxide and barbiturates, I want no runners.” But there it was again, a gnawing feeling in the pit of his stomach that lasted until he walked up the ships ramp with three drugged teenagers following him. A dirty business and one that he had caused. But one he had never really been this close to in his life. He held three datapads with the details of each slave and knocked softly on the door of Ailbasí’s quarters. He pushed the kids in front of him so they all collapsed asleep onto the couch on the side of her room. Three teenagers, human, Kuati heritage, two girls, and one boy. All young, all of rich lineage. All as a gift to the Sith.

He stammered for a second as the drugged teenagers snored softly on the couch behind him. “I brought you what I thought you would like. Young, force sensitive, innocent. I brought enough for everyone of your apprentices to have a bite too.” Like some den of vampyres.

Was this a trap he was setting before the two of them? A lesson in depravity? A trap to finish off his own soul? He didn’t know. All he knew was that this was a turning point, and he was along for the ride.


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Commander - Darkhand Brigade - Sith Empire

Blood Prince

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“That’s really the kind of person that you think I am? A child murderer?”

Tears began pouring down the wreckage of her shattered expression as she futilely tried to confront the enormity of Ca’airan’s outright accusation. It wasn’t the vulnerable and moving kind of cry that actresses charaded in the holovids either, it was an ugly and broken thing, hoarse and obnoxiously loud.

The sobbing became more and more disrupted by a deep, hacking cough until a coagulated mass of blackening blood dislodged from her throat. Her insides felt frozen and sweltering at the same time, and a flash sweat matted her fur with dampness. Her condition, held at bay for so long through stolen vitality, was returning at an accelerated rate. She stumbled to her medicine drawer while her stomach rebelled violently and she threw up. Some part of her rejoiced that she had taken off her mask already. Even without being able to see labels she was able to find her meds just through familiarity with the applicator gun. This would stabilize her until she could locate someone to feed off of.

The injector hissed, the spent medicine cartridge ejected and clattered on the floor. Everything would be better soon…

Convulsions tore through Ailbasí’s body with violent intensity, doubling her over and bringing her to her knees. Something was terribly wrong. It struck her then, that the medication, having been left unused for months, was surely expired and had become something else in stagnation. She felt a terrible pressure in the back of her mind spurring her to feed, and she knew that if she went unconscious it was highly likely that everyone in the ship and close proximity to it would die.

It was a sobering thought, and the first time she had been informed enough to know what the cost of her near death recoveries was. Understanding shackled her to a sense responsibility, she could not hand wave this away as something beyond her control. For one terrible, dark second she considered taking the proffered meal, if only to spare the people around her from her rampaging violence. It was just an excuse though. For her to protect the people she cared about and the people that didn’t deserve to die there was only one recourse.

“I can’t stop it, get them to Korriban.”

Before instinct could take over, Ailbasí seized a long and slender metal hairpin, a gift to her from her mother to wear during a big formal dance when she was eighteen. With Gwn Marwolaeth packed away, it would have to do. There was an odd abruptness to ending things here, with so much undone and unsaid. The hairpin slid in easily, and Ailbasí’s warrior training told her exactly how to angle it. The pain was brief and relatively minor comparatively speaking, and a different kind of darkness made of peaceful stillness quickly followed as her lifeless body collapsed to the ground, her eyes and heart burning away into nothing in her absence.

================

She awoke with a start in bed, colors muted by near darkness flooding into her eyes for the first time in months. What a peculiar dream, thought Samira. Her room suddenly looked alien, despite being intimately familiar with each wall and piece of furniture. Painstakingly selected art from the galleries of masters adorned the walls, each one a testament to her own pedigree of wealth and power, but she suddenly found them lacking somehow. Her meticulously organized work desk felt… silly? instead of optimally productive.

She slid out of bed and went to the refresher, suddenly feeling ill from this overwhelming disorientation with her own life. Inside, she clutched the sink as suddenly a searing sensation of heat filled her chest like a star coming to life. She stifled a scream and realized she didn’t recognize her own face. She didn’t know where one life ended and the other began. Her arms were moving now, but not of her accord, studying her face with the same unfamiliarity she now felt. Her limbs no longer moved no matter how hard she tried. She wanted to scream, but no longer had a mouth of her own to do so. She was a ghost in her own body.

=================

Ailbasí, looking in the mirror and seeing the face of a complete stranger, responded the only way one could.

“What the pfask!?”


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Studying 3 and his strange combat stance made him realize just how little he could really judge this strange creature.  However given what the sith had said perhaps this poor creature was suffering from some form of mind wipe or cerebral damage.  Dropping into a Thrysian combat stance he again studied 3 to see if there was a response.  With no major one apparent he decided to see what he could do to help unlock this strange creatures mind.

"I am not sure you understand me, but know that what I am about to do is in hopes of unlocking your mind so that we may better understand one another and travel a path of knowledge while working with are mutual friend.  I will apologize in advance for any discomfort."  Without waiting for a response he attacked.  A quick rush to the left as a faint followed by a strong straight palm strike from his right hand aimed at the mans ribs.  Hopefully the man reacted at least enough to move or somewhat block, Drago was not accustomed to holding back and wasn't about to now, not when there was so much he didn't understand.  

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