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Darth Nyrys

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I mean are kids really that different than someone like five years older than them? Delta wanted to yell in regards to his rejected gift. But then the coughing came, wicked and dark as she began to throw up blood in congealed masses on the floor. He stood still for a moment before letting the three datapad fall to the floor beside him in a clatter. He rushed to her side, gingerly holding her shoulders as she shook from the result of her self applicated meds. She continued to shake and Delta could feel the gnawing in the bottom of his stomach roiling up again.

“No feed off me, feed off me!” He tore away his collar exposing his neck to offer a feast of himself. He voice carrying with it the high pitch of a man truly afraid. Someone that was willing to give everything to correct a wrong.  But it was far too late for that, his timing was as forever off. And he could only crouch beside her as she took matters into her own hands to save the lot of them.

He screamed and dove at her as the needle tore home, but again it was too late and all he managed to do was tackle the corpse of the woman he loved to the floor as the convulsions took hold.

“God!”

He was screaming now, his voice hoarse. 

“God damn it.”

His bare hands lightly held her head as the last bit of the force bore through her like a knife, burning away her eyes in a flash of red tinged light. He watched the entire time and he couldn’t tear his eyes away. He absorbed every bit of it. She had died to protect him, because of his stupid error. It was his fault. Again.

And with a blink the gnawing in his stomach was streaking up to his brain and Madness began to take its hold.

___________________

Song

___________________

“Why?” Why? He shouted at the heavens, maybe to Dagon, maybe to the scores of demons that watched him from the shadows of the room, their eyes white and red and always staring.

Why? You know why. You were never meant to feel.

The eyes blinked as one and he could see the large unblinking eyes of Tanwen Keyoo, the Kaminoan in charge of his pod, coming from the brown leather couch he had deposited the teenagers on before. The Kaminoian was dead now over a hundred years, but still always in the back of his mind. He looked away from those orbs and looked back down at the Sith lord he still cradled, his fingers seeking a pulse at her neck and finding nothing at all except the tremors that came with a melting nervous system.

You were produced for a purpose. And it was not this. Not love.

He laid the head down on the soft carpeted floor and gave her a light kiss on the forehead before standing. His heart hurt so much it felt like it would also melt away, and the corners of his vision narrowed as he began to cry. Hot tears rolling down his cheeks to splatter onto his torn shirt.

You were produced for War, nothing else. And now you see the consequences of trying to be anything else.

He blinked, trying to clear his vision of the mass of tears and so also wipe away the ghosts that flooded the room.

You should have learned this a hundred years ago. Everything you love is taken away.

“Shut up!” He strode towards the couch, his hands curling into useless fists.

But the demon continued its taunt.

It is not your purpose. You cannot deny your purpose!

“Shut up!” He screamed and reached out to find the slim Kaminoan neck. That at least felt real enough. He squeezed hard, reveling in the panicked movements below his fingers as he strangled the life out of his old pod master. But she continued to speak, even after he felt the larynx give way and the cartilage grind back unrelentingly.  

Do not deny your choices

He let go and struck this time with a closed fist, receiving a squeal of fear and pain in its place. He smiled and struck out at the vision again, loving the feeling of his clenched fist hitting the soft bone and cartilage of the Kaminoian face. The voice was gone but Delta struck again, and again until his fists were coated with thick mucus like blood and chips of bone had cut his knuckles. The thashing below his fists had also stopped, and Delta could only hear his heavy breathing, punctuated by a sob as he continued to blink tears away from his eyes.

Soldier!

A new voice as familiar as the last this time from behind a ‘T’ visor which glowed red, this time from the center of the couch, and Delta could see the yellow hawks on a field of stars on the side of the white helmet. Commander Gilthros. Head of commando team Delta, which had been deployed on Christophsis near the end of the clone wars.

“I said shut up! All of you shut up!”

Delta scrambled for the blaster that Ailbasí had given him at their journeys start. With shaking hands he depressed the trigger, sending a triple blast into the center of the couch. Silencing the clone commander's ghost.

There is a lesson to be learned Ca’Aran. Don't let this madness pass without you learning it.

The voice caused him to drop the blaster and fall to his knees beside his deceased lover. He stared at his hands, not having the courage to look up at the last ghost of the clone wars. One that had been exorcised by Qaela, but had come back nonetheless. She had always come back. He took a deep breath and he began to quench the rage and sickness that swirled through his body.   

“There is always a lesson, Kailen.”

But this one has purpose. You see before you the consequences of your actions. Redemption is still but a heartbeat away. You need only make the choice. Leave it behind. 

The tears dried and he took another deep breath. His eyes focused on the blaster laying beside him. So very tempting. But He had things to do, and it wasn't time for that yet. Another breath. And the voices were silent.

"But..."

Another breath. This one cold and without the sobbing of tears.

"Then I wouldn't be the Blood Prince."

Another breath.

"And who would I be without that? I retired clone trooper with no purpose? Kriff that my lady." 

Ca'Aran please

"If I can serve the Sith then I will. Someday I'll join you in hell. What's more death to add to the weight of my sins? I have given up redemption long ago." 

But silence only greeted him. 

___________________

He looked up at the mess on the couch and retched.

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Blood Prince

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Ughhh


There was no period of time to consider what these people spoke of, what the woman-creature even meant. “Sith, Force, and Power.” As those words touched his ears, he could see the man who had freed him. The power that radiated from his presence, the force of nature he was when opposed. Yet, her words were spoken apace, and Three did not have the means to call these factors into question. He was still a slave, the substitution of masters was all it was in the end, but the shrewish creature was now in his mind somehow. It was like, a chisel to stone, and he felt the brunt of each strike laid. His headaches drew worse now, while the layers of his mind resisted the peeling nature of her invasion. He found his stance, but what stance was this, and where did he learn it? There was an arena, millions of cameras with their flashes in the distance, a man they all cheered for. The memory was too vague, and impossible to discern as it came and went like a flash in a pan. 

The Chiss was speaking too, a friend perhaps, not dressed like any of the slaves he had encountered before. Three tried to understand his meaning, but he had never felt such a dramatic shift in his body before this. A spark of vitality washed his consciousness whole, rekindling the weakened and starved muscles that mapped him. Concentration on dialogue was asinine at this point, euphoria was all he could feel and hear. He clenched his fists, and felt for the first time in months, natural fortitude. The aches and pains that were routinely beaten into him, shed their long-lasting pains. Fire lit like a fuse in his eyes.

 

Friend

 

Fer’drag’onisi was hostile, his sudden movement startled Three. He rushed composedly, yet his intent was quite clear. “..Why?” The distance between them was already close, and the surprise nearly broke Three into two. The blue man struck the slave square in the ribs, and the impact pounded into his body mercilessly. Three caved from his awkward stance, the point of impact was easily familiar to him, but it was the shock that doubled him over. The harm dealt was impaired by the exceptional response of his body hardening to take the hit, subconsciously of course. Even with the threat of a break, he had been there and done that plenty of times. Three coughed briefly for air, and then pillared himself against the floor with a straight arm. Spitting to the side, he noticed it was just the two of them now. The slaves had been put the test before, and he was never afraid to draw blood. The Arena.

Three counted to the same number in his mind, and then detonated with vehemence. From his kneel, he kicked his right foot out into a quick sweep, tucking the very same arm he used to prop himself from falling. The execution of technique was near flawless, and the speed of which he moved was alarming and would rotate his body three-hundred and sixty degrees. Whether the sweep took the legs from under the blue man or not, what followed was a hook to catch the body and a dash rearwards to create distance. You could hear the power from his performance as he exhaled acutely with both swift attacks. 
 


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She remembered dying, taking her own life to save the lives of those around her. She remembered a warm serenity of detachment that could only be found in void. But she did not remember this face in the mirror, and when she tried to recall things from her past they felt like two separate lives sewn together in a patchwork quilt.

She tested her connection to the Force, and was surprised to find that not only was she still able to sense and exert, but that she was not actually far from her apprentices or Ca’airan. Not that she had a great deal of range with her general sensing, but she had created a Force bond with Draygo right before she had died, and that had allowed her to trace her way back spiritually in a direct manner. She had always kept her powers off of Ca’airan out of fear that she would somehow damage or twist him. She knew, now more than ever, that he was afraid of certain aspects of her life, and that he had some pretty terrible assumptions about her. Ailbasí really didn’t know if creating a Force bond between them would help things or make them worse. Hell, would he even be into her looking however she did now?

“You’ve got to be pfasking kidding me, how did I end up in a human on a planet full of Cathar?”

She focused on the mirror now, every second passing brought further clarity to her mind as the previous occupant continued to fade away. She was a few years older, and like most humans lacking fur save for a mane, a long and vibrant red one. Her muscle mass was greatly reduced but the mass she had was in all of the right places and that made her smile a wicked smile. The nightgown she wore was quality both in material and design, she recognized the brand on the label and it was the kind of clothing that people bought to show that they could afford to buy it.

With more certainty she left the refresher to better explore the person she had stolen. The closet was a further exploration into the fashions of the chique and overly wealthy. These were things that the girls who used to tease her at school would wear. Ailbasí could feel a latent sense of pride in the collection, appearance was paramount to this person. Adjacent, a massive expanding jewelry wardrobe held enough pieces of quality to buy a few planets.

“Sam?” a soft distinctly feminine voice came from the bed and for the first time Ailbasí felt a pang of guilt for this. She had stolen someone from this woman, most likely permanently. She rummaged for stolen memories of intimacy and found none, and at first thought that this was a one night stand, but something drove her to dig deeper, beyond memory of moments and into memory of hopes and anticipations.

For someone so heavily wired towards order, propriety, and planning, an unexpected seed of romance must have been alien and awkward. Following the threads led to moments almost charmingly innocent in their fumbling and naive quality. Holovids portrayed romance as a certainty between beautiful people that wooed each other by impressing them through overcoming trials and revealing hidden strengths, but outside of the camera’s lens romance was about exposing vulnerability. At least any kind of healthy relationship. Ailbasí had her share of cheap knock off romances in her search for some sense of connection and feeling wanted, and they had mapped out a painful awareness of the differences between love and what she was getting.

This, however, was something so much more. Samira had found a real connection, and while she hadn’t found the words to express it yet, it would have been beautiful. The timidity of her approaches offered verifiable proof that this was something special to her, and frustratingly fragile. It was infuriatingly natural and unasked for to an observer who had sacrificed so much of herself for something similar and had yet was still fighting tooth and nail for for it.

It occurred to her that she could adopt this life rather than stealing it. Walk away from the Sith and the path of boundless slaughter. Steal happily ever after and fly off into the sunset. It would remain somebody else’s kind of perfect, however. She knew what she wanted and who she wanted it with, and this wasn’t it. But for the first time she was done holding back on what she had bought with her own suffering, or accepting the hand that the galaxy had dealt her. She put on a mask of caring and approached the side of the bed.

Lissi was not here for the reasons Ailbasí initially assumed, Samira had been through a hellish day, and Lissi had suggested a girl’s night in. Too much wine led to a passed out administrative assistant and another night where love’s confession was delayed. But now she was awake, and Ailbasí needed to do what Samira couldn’t, granted for very selfish reasons. She would twist Samira’s interest in Lissi into a lie to pretend that the switch happened earlier so that she could steal that emotional foundation for her own ends.

“There’s something that I need to tell you, a secret that I’ve been carrying with me for awhile now. You may have noticed that things between us have been different lately, and that I’ve seemed like a different person lately. I’m not the person I was when we first met. Literally.”

She reached out to the wine bottle and it levitated gracefully through the air to her hand. She feigned taking a deep draw and then handed the vessel to Lissi, urging her to drink as well.

“I was sent to imitate Samira on behalf of the Sith Empire, but in the process I… well… you… oh screw it.”

Ailbasí leaned in and pretended she was back on her ship with Ca’aran, kissing Lissi like she was hopelessly in love with her. She had never particularly had any interest in women in that way, but her history with men had given her more than enough experience in feigning interest and passion.

“I don’t want to lose you when I finish my assignment, but if you help me complete my objectives I can take you with me.”

Lissi had an appropriate degree of shock on her face, her mouth agape at the partially true revelation being delivered to her. She was hesitating, and Darth Nyrys couldn’t allow that. She reached into Lissi’s mind and twisted it until it was where she needed it to be. On some level could feel things breaking inside the woman’s mind when she did it.

“You want this. You need this. I am your world.”

Lissi parroted the words while tears welled up and streaked down her cheeks subconsciously. The tears turned into giggling as Lissi remembered that this was what she had wanted, this was the best night of her life. She would do anything for Sam. Anything. Darth Nyrys held her for a bit, kissing her on occasion to sell the illusion and let her pet’s newfound mania settle in. She would use Lissi as an insider to this woman’s life and exploit it to its bedrock. Time to get hers.

When she tired of Lissi she used the Force to make her drift off into sleep. She changed out of her nightgown into a more appropriate outfit and packed a bag since none of her old stuff would fit her in this new body. She also grabbed Sam’s commlink and datapad, there would be homework to do. She exited the ship skipping down the ramp and feeling like a million credits as she walked back to her ship.

The Best Behavior was where she had left it, which was a relief since she had told Ca’aran to take the apprentices to Korriban, thinking that death was going to be a more permanent affair. Her access code lowered the ramp and she strode in unchallenged. Ca’aran, clearly having thought he had lost her, had made quite a mess of her common room. She walked up behind him, putting her arms around him in an embrace of comfort.

“Shhhh, I’m back now, I came back for you. I know you thought you lost me, but I’m kind of goddamn amazing and more than a bit magical. New body though, I hope you like it.”

Now she understood why on a planet of Cathar she had ended up human. She hoped he liked her new look, she chose it for him.


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He was surprised by the strange mans timed reactions, the pain he had caused should have been minimal yet it rattled something loose.  It was not a great feat to dodge the leg sweep but the speed at which the body blow came surprised him and staggered him back a few feet.  A quick internal survey revealed no major damage but given the mans weakened state the blow was impressive.

"It seems something has been knocked loose inside you my friend, I am glad to see it.  I am sorry this is how it has to be released but I fear I now desire to unravel the mysteries of your mind even more.  If you are ready let us change things up a bit."  Dropping into an Echani fighting stance he prepared for his next attack.  Sidestepping to the left and then entering a role that would bring him up on the right he lashed out with to swift kicks at the end of the roll, hoping to strike about chest high to see if he could topple the strange man in front of him.  The blows were executed perfectly and he again hoped he had not overdone it given the mans condition.  He had to know what was going on in this mans head, the mystery was just to much to pass up.

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When the retching had finished Delta looked up with bloodshot dry eyes and blinked at the Mess on the couch. Firstly it was a damned waste of good hard won credits to kill two slaves like that, and secondly it was a pretty damn fine mess he had made. He growled softly and went about the business of cleaning up the bodies scattered in his ex-lovers room. First, he dragged the body of the brunette kuati slave girl to the bathroom, and tossed her into the lavish bathtub, next came the kuati boy who he had riddled with blaster bolts, then finally the body of his lover. Whom he kissed and placed gingerly into the tub ontop the pile of human bodies. He had left the still drugged redhead slave girl who had reminded him of Kailen laying in the puddle of blood on the couch. Sleeping soundly on a mix of barbiturates and Chlordiazepoxides, and having not seen at all the fate of her fellow slaves.

He sighed, said a prayer, turned on the overhead exhaust fan in the bathroom, kissed the face of Ailbasí again, then tossed a thermite grenade on top of her and shut the door behind him. The bodies flashed into flame and sparks and he walked back into her bedroom. Ignoring the distant fire alarms that echoed down the way from the cockpit. At least she had been buried like some great warrior with a few sacrifices to keep her company. Smoke that smelled distinctly like cooking bacon bagan to billow out from underneath the durasteel door’s seems and Delta kicked a towel into the slit below the door and looked over at the sleeping teenager.

“So back on the old grind eh?” As he fished out his datapad to look at the news again, but he froze when slender arms wrapped themselves around him and a voice whispered in his ear that was definitely not familiar in any way. In instinct he simply dropped his shoulders several inches to break her grasp and with a shove threw the lady against the duraloid paneled wall. Placing his slugthrower right below her ample left breast. His face an inch away from hers and his voice was a very deadly growl.  

“And who the kriff are you?”


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Blood Prince

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Ailbasí sighed. She had hoped to just explode into the room and for him to just know, like in the fairy tales and romance holos. But this was neither and he was a veteran soldier, both cynical and skeptical, especially of happiness. She needed to dig deeper until the truth was unavoidable. Even with her human nose she smelled smoke and burning meat, heard the wail of fire alarms. He was probably burning her body. She didn’t blame him.

“Did you spare the hairpin that I used to stop myself? My mother gave it to me… But we’ve both had a nasty shock today so I would understand if you didn’t. I don’t know if the body hop was a one time trick or not, so please don’t shoot me. Even if it isn’t, please don’t shoot me, this body is kind of amazeballs and I want to keep it. I need to check in on blue man group and Mister Snuffles soon, but if you want to get acquainted with the new me before I do, go ahead. I know this is crazy, but that’s just how my life is on a daily basis, Ca’Aran.”


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Tremors of adrenaline flushed beneath his skin, and the little hairs across it raised with inspiration. He watched the blue man wheel from a roll, lashing out with two brisk kicks to his mid-section. Curiously, Three controlled his breathing quite well, watching the fluid movement of the other and then admissibly allowing the assaults to batter against him. The reason was not clear, but a smile was slowly seaming across his face. The first kick pounded against him, but Three reacted ahead of impact with his arms in a braced forming against his chest, absorbing the first kick and then the crawling power of the second. The latter strike sucked a bit of wind from him, the foot adjusted just enough to slip between the brace of both forearms. It eased the steam in him a little, the wild intemperance inside of him turning to blatant vexation. Ire spelled out across his facial features, the elitism in his speech was hard for him to understand, especially if he really did mean the word friend. Perhaps it was pity.

 

"F—f..fri"

 

The word he tried to understand was friend, he could feel what it meant, the endearment of the word but he could not understand what it meant to this blue man. He used it, this Drago, but he continued to introduce harm. The lady before, she had left weary and distraught, locking the two within this room. Was it kill or be killed, like the slaves before him? There were too many questions, and time was running out. Panic crept up on his shoulders and a wild impatience took over him. Three shook his head, inadvertently shaking the pain from his mind and then something inexplicable occurred. "Aaaaaaaaaaaaaarrrgghhhhh!" The slave let a rolling thunder come from the bottom of his chest, and up the canals of his lungs. A roar unlike any other escaped his mouth, a howl entangled with a dark energy which bled the tone of it mysteriously. The roar was loud, room shakingly so, and impressively nasty to the ears. 

 

 

Three pounced forward with more life now, rushing forward to spear the blue man from where he stood. 


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With a twirl the slug thrower seated itself back into the kydex holster and Delta let the girl drop from where he was pinning her against the wall. He hooked a thumb to where the towel was struggling to keep the smoke out from her bedroom and shrugged.

“I didn’t much think to rescue it, thermite’s probably not melted it into scrap yet if you want to check. Sorry about the mess, can’t say I was expecting you back so very soon.”

He leaned in and kissed her on the forehead that was now very much without the bristly fur of a Cathar.

“Welcome back dear, I look forward to whatever body you swipe into next.” He winked and stepped back, brushing his bloody knuckles on his jacket.


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Blood Prince

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The shout, that blasted shout, it hurt.  Alot.  It stunned him more then artillery fire going off near by.  He recovered quickly but not nearly as quickly as the strange man only knows as 3 moved this time.  The tackle took the wind out of him.  In a brief moment of panic after he had been slammed into the floor all he could see was an strange purplish red light.  He wasn't use to being in a panic.  It was a strange sensation and he felt that strange sensation he always felt before something unexplained happend.  Strugling to stand while still grappeling with 3 and his ears ringing the fight seemed to have degenerated into a brawl.  As his panic grew so did the uneasy sensation and suddenly with a cry of enough Drago himself flew backward slamming into a wall.  Dazed he wondered if whatever shockwave had just thrown him backwards had also impacted 3.  He hoped so as the wind was once again knocked out of him in the span of less then a minute.

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The sudden impact drove Three reeling in the opposite direction, nothing but open space broke his backward repulse, with his legs nearly kicking too far from underneath him,. His body equalized before he was completely swept, falling forward and balancing on all fours like a ravenous mutt, allowing the tips of his feet and the tips of his fingers to drag across the floor. His unruly white mane of hair steeped his entire face with sweat, sheathing nearly the entirety of his face, save for the brilliance of his tempestuous eyes. These eyes were haunting, dangerously void of thought. The auburn paint inside of them began to seethe, almost frothing with an unknown energy. The upsurge of dynamism in his body seemed to exceed all boundary, yet his breathing was more ragged now, panting with feral unrest. His chest, if he could feel it, was on fire. His heart pounded harder and faster, and these were the tell-tale signs that had left those other slaves mutilated. If his mind was a puzzle before, it was now a labyrinth with walls that were closing in on him. The only thing he understood was if he lost, he would die. The dread of him never knowing the answers, never knowing what he truly was, drove him berserk every time. 

 

"Kill."

 

Instinct pedaled his momentum now. Recognizing the disorientation of the blue man, the hound snarled inaudibly and launched forward once more. Faster, harder, and with reckless abandon. His voracious advance covered the distance between them in no more than the split of three seconds. With his opponent unwillingly slamming into the wall with concussive force in order to break his own trajectory, Three thoughtlessly took advantage and unleashed a relentless barrage of hooks and knees towards the body and face, hoping to completely pulverize the blue man while he recovered his breath. He blindly unleashed, blacking out and seeing nothing but the dark red wash of color in his eyes.  


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Ailbasí nodded, wrapped a garment around her face, and looked into the burning remains of her bathroom. Seeing metal glinting in the flames, she gestured to it and with some tugging it came loose and found her hand. It needed to be cleaned, but at least it was back in her possession.

“As much as I would love to show you the new me in depth, I need to go check in on my scientist and my murder hobo, make sure that they aren’t killing each other. I promise I will be back soon and we can talk.”

She… did her best putting together an outfit that relatively contained her new dimensions, put a black robe on over that, and donned her Sith mask. She may look different now, but that would not compromise her ability to look her role as Sith instructor. The new apprentices would have questions, but that was a good thing.

Darth Nyrys walked into a solid beatdown in progress, She wasn’t sure if it was the juice that she had given Mister Snuffles or if his appearance had concealed a greater talent than she expected, but he was unleashing on the poor Chiss like a proper warrior. Well at least the foundations of one. He would need to be honed, reforged from a blunt instrument into a proper blade.

The chiss, to his credit, had survived long enough for Ailbasí to die, transfer bodies, and return to the ship, so that meant he was made of sterner stuff than most academics. She gestured and Mister Snuffles was forcefully removed from the Chiss before more permanent damage could be done. Then she took back what was left of the vitality she had given him. He would learn how to secure his own supply in time.

“Impressive, most impressive. It’s good to know that we won’t need to dispose of any more bodies today. Although slightly concerning neither of you heard a grenade going off a few rooms over. But that could just be the sound proofing on the ship. I’m not going to hide my situation from you, it’s of value to your education. My original body was a construct and it suffered an integral failure that left me with a choice, murder everyone within a certain radius to repair it or find a new body to serve as a host. While my situation is somewhat unique, the Dark Side will make both of you face similar choices as you progress down the path to power. This is a road of sacrifices, sometimes your own, sometimes the people you care about, sometimes people you’ve never even met before.

There are two truths of the Dark Side that you need to be intimately familiar with as we train. The darkness does not respect those that aren’t willing to both seize control of the situation and suffer for their craft. The darkness will consume you if you don’t respect it’s primordial vastness. You must be ruthless in your self inventory when deciding how much of the Dark Side you can control, or you will be swept away.

Both of you has a speciality that you are clearly leaning towards, but my first goal is to make sure that you survive long enough to get there. I am going to leave a book of sorts with you to study for the night. Then in the morning I am going to attack you. If you overextended yourself to the point of being unable to defend, you will die. If you don’t study it enough, that is a lost opportunity.”

Darth Nyrys placed a black fur bound book on the floor, and gently removed the strap that kept it sealed. She remembered when they removed that skin from her. Crystal pages floated up to form a circle in the room, each one of the ten manifesting a three dimensional image of a body in a different energy color.

“This is a Sith pain map, courtesy of the Cartographers of Flesh in the crucible on Korriban. It will teach you the methods and effects of various strikes and pressure points on the body, but each lesson will require you to experience the pain. It will push you, but you will learn a great deal. I will have my crew bring you both meals since you did well sparring today, but I am leaving you to make your own decisions regarding how to approach this. The crew will also show you to your quarters for the night when you decide to retire.”

Ailbasí left her apprentices to their own devices and returned to her room, and to Ca’aran. She took off the mask and disrobed before hugging him deeply. She stood on the tips of her toes to kiss him on the forehead, this was intimacy on a deeper level than just lustful need. Some things couldn’t be said with words.

“So, I know you’ve been around some pretty pfasked up Sith. And I’ve done some pretty pfasked up things, to get here. But I don’t go out of my way to be mwahaha evil. At first I did what I needed to survive, and now I’m at the point where I do what I need to for us to have the kind of happiness we deserve, but when able I try to minimize the cost, or make the cost come out of people that I feel deserve it. Doesn’t always work that way, but that’s what I try for. Is that okay with you?”


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Body swapping was a trick he had never heard of, even among the legends he had studied of the Sith.  However it made little difference to the current situation.  Walking over to his pack he removed two water bottles and walked over to three smiling in what he thought was a disarming way.  "I must say for a man with no memory and poor physical condition you fight well, I hope there is no hard feelings given that was simply a test.  I admire you ferocity and look forward to learning more about what is trapped in that mind of yours."  Without waiting for a response he set down the one bottle and drank his own.  Learning about pain maps sounded truly interesting but while drinking his water he had to admit that 3's wild barrage had already done some damage.  Going over is body internally there was nothing that wouldn't heal but at the same time that didn't make it hurt any less.  There wasn't much to be done, he would just have to compartmentalize the pain as best he could and move forward, the only other choice was apparently to die at the hands of the Sith.

Slowly walking up to the first of the Crystal images he began to study the complexity of the image and the energy patterns flowing through it.  The patter, while somewhat obscure was not difficult to figure out.  Deciding to use his tried and true method of learning he spent several minutes memorizing the patterns of energy.  The sith had said it would hurt but was also worth the pain so focusing his mind he began to attempt to mimic the pressure points on his own body in an attempt to create the pain sensation that the map showed.  At first it seemed he was perhaps wrong about the energy pattern when suddenly one attempt yeilded a jolt of pain that set his head spinning and drove him to his knees.  After allowing himself five minutes for his head to clear and the pain to stop he repeated the process to the same result.  Two more repetitions with the same result satisfied his intellectual curiosity and memory.  Smiling despite himself he moved on to the next crystal image with a determined glint in his eye.  This knowledge was invaluable even if he failed to become a sith or died in the morning it would be a well cherished memory as it was obviously the work of masters.  It was going to be a long night, but if all went to plan he would at least be able to get 3 hrs of sleep.  Well, perhaps 2.5.

Edited by Kellanderos
spelling correction and adding reference to previous post

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As the Lady Sith went to check on her unruley pack of Sithies, Delta stood awkwardly in her bedroom. His crystal blue eyes slowly jumping from poster to poster which had been plastered on the walls. Random bands that were obscure enough to be cool to college aged kids/ His eyes eventually drifted back to where the red haired slave girl was just waking up from a barbituated daze.

Ta.” He held out a reassuring hand to stop her from getting up.

“You need actual rest, not some drugged up stupor.”

She nodded softly and rubbed at her eyes, but didn’t try to speak, and instead laid back onto the leather couch and was fastly asleep before Delta could warn her about the blood she had stuck her bare feet into. He shrugged and sat down on Ailbasi’s bed, staring at the carpet and wondering what would befall him next.

It was in that state that the reincarnated Sith lord found him some time later. Still staring at the carpet, but he smiled widely at her and patted beside him. Inviting her to sit.

“We have all done things we regret. I’ve killed hundreds of thousands. You ate a sith lord. You know, normal couple things. It’s fine with me Ailbasí. I wouldn’t have it any other way.” He pulled her into a fierce hug. “What comes next for us?”


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Blood Prince

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His enraptured fixation was half-cocked when another had entered the room. He ignored her slight gesture, but his body could not. The full bearing of his weight was wrenched from the blue man and sent backsliding across the hard floor, arresting the mania inside of his mind. Three laid there, slaving each and every breath as hard as he could, heartbeat racing in place. Such a broken mind ran wild, and now the consciousness had returned, memories of the man who had ripped metal from metal with the lift of his hand almost as this one did. Reminiscing brought composure, and his stillness brought a weariness that nearly drowned his physical spirit. Suddenly, the exhaustion he had before was reimbursed, but by tenfold now. Three did not bother to move, and the level of his head evened out across the floor in rest. Something of a lecture was being announced, but three avoided eye-contact because he was surrendered to his depletion. “Sith…” The shell of a word left his lips, interested in what she meant, but too low to hear. It didn’t seem to matter; as abruptly as she had arrived, she had left.

There were now ethereal mirror-like objects that surrounded the room, another occurrence he could not quite understand. She had explained what they were, but this was all too new to him, and the chaos that was his mind would not settle if people continued to arrive and depart in quick exchanges. The only constant for the last bit was the man named Drago, and he was still alive, they both were. Perhaps killing one another was not the intention, and just as those thoughts crossed his mind, the blue skinned warrior approached with pleasantries once more. His words were sincere and kind, and the respect he showed reminded him a little of what he might have been before the other Masters. He was not just an animal. Drago walked off, and Three smiled as well, before his face hit the floor and was light’s out. 
 


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Ailbasí laid down next to Ca’aran on the bed, her head in his lap. The sense of safety she now felt underscored the vulnerability of her new body. It had been a long time since she needed someone to feel safe. In simpler times this feeling of security would have felt nice, but now it ate away at her with nervous energy.

“I feel exposed right now in this new body, weak. So much of my training before was tied to my physicality, and now that physicality is all soft and squishy. If body hopping is going to be one of my natural aptitudes then I need to train in things that don’t depend on me being built like a sexy tank. Which means study and practice for me, not to mention learning how to be a human and not needing to survive on the life energy of others to be healthy. We still need to secure a holding on Cathar, but I have an idea for that. I need new clothes because apparently I can’t go half a standard cycle without having a drastic physical change, maybe we can send your new purchase out to find me some things to wear? Whoever this person was, their wardrobe is a bit too corporate empress for my taste.

You are always welcome to be by my side, but I don’t really know what it is that you do. I mean, are you using up all of your vacation days with Black Sun to be here or are you so well off at this point that you’re semi retired? Or am I getting you in trouble for stealing you away for so long? Does stealing you make me a cat burglar? Damnit, that pun only partially applies now…”


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I am alive?


Slaves that fell to the point of unconsciousness were as useful as dirt, ineffective for the labor required to build for the future. These were the slaves that had their throats slit in their sleep, or were chained and tossed to the ferals as a source of food. The meat on their bones was not much, but desperation drove a countless many to devour without prejudice. A dog eat dog world was what enslavement on these worlds meant, but here, on a land driven by what seemed to be the most feral, he lived. Three cracked his eye open before he shifted, trying to grab a handle on the situation. His senses were a little more crisp now, and although the wear and tear still ate at his muscles, the idea of sleep no longer barraged the clarity of his mind. As he searched the room, slowly adjusting his neck to look around him, he noticed it was still the blue man and himself locked away.

The strange mysticism of those pages that pulled themself from a book, still drifted loosely in the air. Her voice, the dark lady, replayed itself in his head with instruction and warning. She was a shadow amidst men, he could swear she appeared as the creatures of this land once did, but the last he laid eyes on her, her stance and figured had changed. It was the command of her voice that reminded Three of who she was, and even now, she probably hid behind the layers of the shadows that danced in these chambers. "Where am I, anyways?" He looked to Drago, almost to ask outloud, and then the smell of food pulled every inch of his attention.

Three scrambled to his feet, and spun around from where he lay. The crust of sleep contracted in the corner of his eye, while a trail of drool formed at the edge of his lips. This couldn't be another dream, the aroma of the warm plate persuaded goosebumps to rise from his skin. The shaggy-haired slave decided not to pay another second to curiosity, and scooped the venison with both hands before snapping into the meal. His heart, pumped with something he hadn't quite felt before. Perhaps, it was hope.

Drago remained focused on the task at hand, clearly a man dedicated to discipline and tact. Three on the other hand, savored the food left for him, with evidence of the spices stuck in his teeth and face. He stood and drew the length of his forearm across his face to clean his mess and turned to the pain map scattered all around him with confusion comically built into his expression. The one nearest to him was where he would begin his journey. Brushing the folds from his disastrous attire, he marched up to the first page and sniffed it as if that would render any type of answer for this sorcery. It did not. The page was multi-dimensional, projecting crystal clear imagery of the anatomy and apparently highlighting the arm for whatever reason. There was a circuitry, a pattern if he was to guess, but he did not pretend to understand any of it. It was just a magical paper that suspended itself because that witch-lady said so. He reached out to grab the thing, perhaps he could examine it further for some inscriptions, and then it hit him.

The muscles in the same arm were impacted immediately, as if a blade had just punctured skin. The whole of his arm froze over with numbness, and Three startled backwards, clutching at the wound instinctively. He huffed to the pain, muffling a jumble of words that made no sense to any dialect. Whipping his head around, he found no one near him. Drago was too distracted to be playing tricks, so the only answer was the witch-lady. This was her torture, and she was somewhere laughing between this world and the next. The pain was biting though, and did not wash away as quick as the whips from his Masters had over time. The feeling was internal, and bled into his senses. He had become quite accustomed to the abuse, so much so that it became laughable when the others were not watching. This was flinching, squeezing his eyelids shut as if that would somehow make it disappear.

Just then, his mind relapsed for the split of a second. And he saw himself. Standing there, jabbing the air with a swift precision unbeknownst to him. He opened his eyes, with shock and awe. "What was that? It looked like.."


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Ca’aran was silent for some time, and Ailbasí let him know that she didn’t need an answer right away. For the time being, she floated over her datapad and used it to access the Sith’s vast collection of electronically recorded tomes and scrolls. The fear of loss of self still haunted her too much to pursue the path of sorcery, not to mention her unspoken worries that such heavy use of the dark side might cause her body to warp and diminish. In the past when she couldn’t find acceptance or validation amongst her peers being wanted or lusted after had been the closest substitute she could manage, and it had gotten her by. As she continued down the path of the Sith would her ability to connect with people fade so much that she’d have to rely on manipulating desire just for a brief feeling of closeness again?

She dove into texts, manuals, and scrolls on illusionry, finding the principles and methods of the craft to be far more intuitive and natural to her than anything else that she had studied. She devoured the knowledge hungrily and wondered if should have started her studies as an assassin. But the lessons she had learned as a Sith warrior about her own limits and how to push past them were invaluable. An idea for a ritual began to form, and she started plotting it out on her datapad, a flurry of notes and illustrated arcane sigils. She would need to make sacrifices… of other people this time, but it could lead to a more permanent means of protecting her body from the ravages of the Dark. For now though, she would practice the fundamentals, temporarily changing features like eye color and hair color, and temporarily conjuring shapes and symbols.


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Ca’Aran smiled and pulled the woman closer enveloping her in a hug.

“If you have to body jump all the time that seems like a hassle, luckily I have an immense line of credit.” He stuck his tongue out at her and kissed her on the furless forehead. Then he looked up to the slave who was still sleeping on the couch. He gently woke her and informed her of the mission he had set out for her and gave her a thousand credit chip. She rushed out with a nod and Delta turned back to Ailbasi.

“Black Sun is changing away from what it once was. Myself, Mindan, Jacen, Omega, and Kayal made Black Sun into a powerful military force. One that would be reckoned with. We withstood the Sith assault at Coruscant and in the peace time we made ourselves unbeatable. Now our alliances have shifted, the Sith rule the Galaxy, and I am the only one of the Princes left.”

He drew her again into a sad hug.

“So the Black Sun must change to survive. Otherwise…”

He sat down and steepled his fingers in front of him.

“We become a threat to the Sith, and we will be stabbed in the back.”

He laughed softly.

“So we must give up arms and return to what we once were. A Criminal Syndicate. And such a syndicate does not need a Prince of Blood. So I will also retire, lest I am put down in the eventual power struggle. If I get out now, I can secure my assets and money, but that also leaves me aimless and drifting. I imagine I’ll eventually eat the end of my pistol. But that’s a while out.”

He smiled, though his eyes did not reflect it.

“So, what do you want to do?”


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Blood Prince

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Ailbasí exhaled in frustration and left the bed to get dressed. She had enough of her pre-Sith clothing to throw together an outfit that relatively fit her. There were apprentices that needed training and she certainly didn’t need to be dealing with this right now.

“I know what I’m going to be doing, exactly what I told you just a moment ago. I can’t speak for you, but I really hope you get professional help for your survivor’s guilt and or depression that you’ve got going on. We had a nice thing going, and then you tell me that most likely you’d trade that in to eat a blaster bolt? Pfask you! Pfask you, Ca’aran!

I may not be your dead little blue eyed Jedi dream girl, but I deserve a hell of a lot more than being treated like a convenient time waster until you can convince yourself to pull the trigger. I died for you, was it too much to expect that you would try living for me?”

Ailbasí stormed off, not waiting for a response. She doubted there was anything he could say right now to make things better, and plenty of things to make it all worse. She came into the room that her apprentices studied in like a roiling stormfront. Her anger spiked the pressure and heaviness in the room, and there was a pregnant pause before she spoke. There was an intensity in her voice that hadn’t been there before, but it didn’t seem to be directed at anyone in the room, at least not yet.

“Change in plans, I’m going to be teaching you how to use pain to affect the Force and fuel different techniques. Pain isn’t the only way to manipulate or empower the Force, but it is one of the most intuitive, and its intrinsic nature means that you will want to get it right as quickly as possible. Each of you has already touched the Force with my help as part of your training, I want you to see if you can find it now on your own. If necessary, use pain to find it instinctively, but that shouldn’t be necessary. It’s quite like discovering a group of muscles you never knew you had.”

Darth Nyrys placed a trio of spoons on the ground to serve as impromptu training implements and levitated her spoon demonstratively. She touched one of the floating figures and experienced the phantom memory of her arm being rolled up like a sleeping bag, accompanied by a quick succession of bone breaks. She didn’t need the added juice right now, but she wanted to be thorough in presenting the process accurately. The spoon twisted and contorted under her influence before going as molten hot as her anger and spraying across the far wall, leaving small beads of metal smoking in the wall.

“Expectations create limits in our minds of what we are capable of, but pain and dark emotions have a way of pushing us beyond those limits. You will pay for each dark miracle with blood and tears, but heed your ambition and your desires and it will give you everything you want. You may begin.”


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I bared my heart for this?

But his anger had piqued and so he lost it.

“You died for me?” His voice trembled as his voice rose into a roar. “No you died because you were too much a coward to face what a Sith really is! You’ll gladly serve a dark lord that condones worse than simply feeding on some children’s blood. Do you think the aftermath of Onderon or Kuat was bloodless? Children, imperials Jedi alike died in droves to the Sith but you couldn’t even think about coming face to face with what you really are?”

But he was screaming at the closing door. So he added the weight of a thrown datapad after it. Where it smashed into expensive electronic bits on the bulkhead.

She definitely deserved better than a mass murderer, Sith associate, aimless homicidal maniac like him. So he punched the bulkhead instead. Letting the pain from his knuckles slowly overcome the rage and pain of his heart. Until he stood, knuckles bleeding and seething. 


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Blood Prince

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Uncharted was the time, as Three and Drago continued forward in their learning. The two of them shared an amicable silence, but coordinated their experience and understanding to the best of their abilities. Collaboration and trial and error all played a part in their routine, which was difficult because of the verbal limitations that Three suffered from, but still they managed. The lessons were straightforward, keen on exerting a certain amount of energy and physical distress in order to provoke immediate comprehension. In this, the former slave was well acquainted and adjusted quite fast to such drastic indoctrination. Many of his lessons were arduous and beaten into him, desensitizing him to the impression of pain, and alternatively turning such feelings into a narcotic rush. His body seemed well prepared for combat, despite the lack of sleep and nutrition that riddled him even still. There was no time to rest, especially when slave-masters decided to exchange hands. The small snack that the blue man had offered, now served as a torment for wanting more, and his appetite could be felt when before it had disappeared. Still, there was distractions in the mental imagery that these pages imprinted onto his mind, disciplines and movements that were not awkward for his body to try and attempt. Each time that Three had shadowed the applications, a piece of his memories seemed to flicker with a time he felt familiar with. "Perhaps, I was a fighter once upon a time" 

 

The room drew dense, a humid pressure clammed the whole area, and Three stood up to stare at his partner. His expression was confusion, and as he opened his mouth to speak, the door swooshed open once more. There was a pause, and then he noticed just who she was. It was her, the witch-lady. Three closed his mouth as the first of her words were filled with fire, and a hate that he was not sure if he had created. Slave-masters had the worst moods, unruly and violent in most cases, it was a movie he had seen over and over. Three winced at her entrance, and subconsciously took a couple steps backwards. She spoke, and he listened to her instructions. The Force was what she spoke of, it was what Drago had used to repel him and what she had used to pry him from killing his friend. Was it what the man had used to free him back then? This universe was a strange one, but how did this lady thing that he could use it? The combat orientation was manageable because of his conditioning, but this was different. She levitated three spoons, what with her wild magic, and then reached out to grab one. The metal folded in on itself, crumpling without respect to physics, searing hotter and hotter by the millisecond. The spoon exploded, Three ducked and covered his head, as the pieces beaded and punctured the wall across from them. 

 

"Power?" He spoke, the word sounding questionable as it left his lips, as if he was unaware that he was the one who said it. 

 

Three wasted no time, he wanted to do what she had done, he wanted to experience what it was like. His posture tidied itself and he marched towards one of three spoons. The distinct dirty-white mane of his, sloppily covering his youthful features. The color in his eyes animated with curiosity, and he reached out with a tired hand. The entirety of his momentum froze the second the skin of his finger touched the tip of the spoon. He felt it, the hurt crawled up his spine and rattled him from his neck to his waistline, feet and bearing crumbling all at once. He writhed as his hand lashed and grabbed hold of the suspended spoon, which somehow carried his weight from completely slumping to the floor. His body trembled all over, quivering uncontrollably and the color in his eyes intensified into a tearful boil. "Aah.. Ah..." He tried to stomach what felt like a sledgehammer punching into his backbone, raw emotion squeezing into the contours of his face. He looked at Drago for help, completely regretting ever wanting to touch this damn spoon, and then he closed his eyes. The pain worsened, why was it always fire that he felt? There was a burning of his soul, a burning of his mind, and an ignition of rage that racked him from bone to flesh. He could not see it, but the metal that he hung too for dear life, was burning a bright orange, just as the witch-lady had shown..


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The reappearance of the Sith was no surprise, though it felt that very little time had passed.  Admittedly though this was most likely due to the amount of pain he had endured.  The moments of anguish felt like they lasted an eternity though he was only a few minutes at a time.  Watching as she enters the room and pulls three spoons to her, spoons being an odd choice to him, he noticed that Three was also slightly apprehensive.  Then suddenly the one spoon was taken in hand and glowed an intense orange, as though being heated from within.  It was fascinating to watch and attempt to judge just how much energy she was using to do this as the spoon burst.  That was when he noticed Three approach and grab onto one of the spoons.  The pain seemed to be great but as the strange disheveled man held the spoon it to began to glow brightly, no explosion yet but still impressive.

Steeling his resolve Drago approached one of the spoons and reached out to it.  He had to understand this power that sometimes surged from within, it was something to control and to learn from yet to also surrender to if he truly wanted to understand its mysteries.  Grabbing hold of the spoon caused a small sun to explode within his mind as energy swirled and twisted within him.  The pain was unimaginable, and though he tried his stoic façade faded away leaving tears streaming down his face.  The only thing he managed to maintain, barely, was his upright standing position.  He felt bowed by the power yet refused to let it force him to his knees.  Instead he focused on this swirling nova of light and pain and tried to force it into the spoon, hoping it would glow and perhaps even explode, releasing his mind and body from this immense strain.  Hopefully he and Three survived this, there was still so much to learn about the Sith and about the strange man at his side.

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03 was the first to replicate the effect, a surprise in itself since she had only expected them to maybe move or slightly bend the utensils, but his gaunt frame suggested a litany of abuses that might fuel his rage. Even if his mind had been obscured, pain and misery had a way of seeping into ones bones, where they could never be forgotten. Drago was following the principles, but struggling with the execution.

“Visualize what you want to do here, but push here.”

She pointed to his head, then touched his chest in reference to his heart. She knew Drago didn’t like to be touched, this was a measured gambit to spark off a reaction. Her own focus was disrupted by her comm chirping. It was from Lissi, and contained a link to recent news from the holonet. Ailbasí was a student of history, she knew what the final result of the current events would be, what it would mean for her. She sent a highly encrypted query on Sith channels and received a near immediate response clearing her request. Perhaps the Dark Lord truly was following her progress.

The Best Behavior was too associated with her at this point, so she decided to gather what she needed, along with her new apprentices and take her new host body’s ship. Maybe when Ca’aran got over his woe is me, whiny kath, bantha poodoo he could catch up. Or maybe she’d be gone by then. Either way, the Opaline Fox departed because it was time to save the pfasking galaxy.


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It felt the push against his chest by some unknown person or things and immediately had to fight to gain control of his emotions.  Why did other beings insist on interrupting him while he was attempting to focus and learn?  Didn’t they know how vital it was to be calm and focused.

His focus and control began to slip as his anger over the interruption grew.  Without trying he focused his rage into the spoon hoping to regain control of his emotions.  But it was to late, while is conscious mind maintained its principals of control, his subconscious mind however boiled over with suppressed rage.  This was his chance to unlock an amazing aspect of the universe and someone was daring to interrupt him.

The energy surged from Drago’s hand as it poured into the spoon.  The functional control combined with his rage seems to have been enough to force the energy trapped inside his brain out allowing him to suddenly see the spoon in his mind begin to glow and vibrate.

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“No need to carry those damned clothes anymore girl.”

Came the voice of the erstwhile Blood Prince to the slavegirl who had spent the past three hours rushing from shoppe to shop in the Catharan Downtown malls trying to find clothes for her master’s now departed mistress. With a sigh he stood and scanned the sky with his blue eyes. Searching for the speck that would be the Corvette Marie, finishing its downburn to pick him up. His comm had been ringing off the charts about the Dark Sun citadel being under Jedi siege, and it was time to spring the trap they had set some many months before. He laughed when he heard the slap of expensive clothes hitting the permacrete and he could hear the slave kicking them angrily into the gutters. And he winced on the laugh, perhaps an old injury, or the toxic fumes from burning his old lover with thermite. He coughed again, spat, then pulled the girl to her feet and walked her to where the Marie had settled down on its landing skiffs.

Soon they were both gone. Enroute to the next fight.

As that was all he seemed to be good for.


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Blood Prince

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