Darth Furion

Rose woke with a stirring, a dark little alarm clock in the back of her mind that told her other minds in the immediate area had likewise rekindled consciousness. Just as the first eyelids fluttered alive with the dawning of a new day the little warrior's heart began to race and draw her into the promising morning with an edge about her. Without groggy protest she slid out of her bed on the floor and threw on her fresh training clothes. Awake and out the door in minutes, she took her place in the sparring ring, as it seemed that was where the congregating would take place this morning, and began stretching her muscles awake and loose for whatever exercises were to come. As well as forgoing breakfast, Rose didn't seem to pay any heed to the other two in their meditations. Let them 'center' themselves however they saw fit, she drew her focus in her doing of things not sitting still. Maybe it was just a difference in preference or upbringing, but Rose had never been too keen on quiet meditation. Countless times she had observed Julio meditating, even joining him in the occasion when she felt the need to be included, but it had always had this odd effect on her. She never felt calm, or centered, or composed in her attempts at meditating, but always set her to restlessness, often on an edge that made her want to take a jab at anyone. More annoying than anything, Rose never found that focus in meditating, that ability to clear one's mind and really just listen to the Force. It always became so indistinct, blurred the harder she tried to see it. 'This is not a bad thing, little one.' Julio had once said to her in one of their few times in meditation. Rose, just twelve at the time, had began to exasperate in heavy sighs of frustration as the foggier things seemed to get the harder she tried. 'It means that you do not let the Force trick you into seeing what it wants you to see. Often the Force will show us things to guide us in our fates, try to twist us to its own designs. And yes, sometimes the will of the Force may bend in our favor, but the times that it does not are devastating indeed. That is why we must all try to understand the Force as you must. To feel it, with our own feelings and our own thoughts behind them, not to simply see it as it would have you. That is the only way to true freedom.' Distantly she watched them quietly sitting as she moved from stretches to manipulating the flow of energy in her body through a drawn out series of moves almost resembling a slow dance. Always these two she did back to back in the morning. This was her daily ritual. Not some calming, inward reflecting quiet time. Her movement was focus, her feeling was meditation.

Rose gave a cursory bow as Aryian left, but otherwise she remained silent as she had through dinner, her mind lost to her own thoughts and concerns to be part of the conversation. That was not to say that she did not on some level listen to the conversation. Any possible information she could get on the two people she would be spending extended periods of time with was important in these first crucial days. Days that would unfold the pattern in which weeks and possible months would form to. But all that, consciously observed or not, was for another time, when the night grew quiet and there would be time to herself. Now she stood transfixed at the window, looking out to the open Mechis sky high atop the cliff side. It still didn't make sense. Why would her father send her here, to a Force Neutral master to receive training, just after she had confirmation in front of him and the whole Sith Order her desire to walk the dark path? Were there simply principle issues he had asked Aryian to cover with her so she may then start her training proper? Did he lie in his acceptance, and would not accept her in his Order, for whatever reasons? To protect her would seem the obvious answer, but what if he didn't think she was ready yet, or worse yet what if he saw her as too weak to even bother training? Truly, Julio Furion loved his daughter, but had his love for her weakened his own heart into tolerating her worthlessness all these years? Was that why she was his weakness, not because he had to protect her all these years, but that she would never be strong enough on her own, that he would always have to care for her until the end of either of their lives? Was there something wrong with her? What was wrong with her? But there was something tickling at the back of all these downward spiraling thoughts of self loathing. Something that pierced through that miasma of lost despair. One line in the conversation that she had been half way listening to as she was deconstructing her life in side her mind. "The Sith claim to want to increase their power, but they are afraid to believe that the Force is more than the dark." Not long after Aryian left, Rose broke from her statuesque morbidity and turned to Emily. "You must not have been paying attention." She said heavily as she shifted from her seat on the ground to rise. "The Sith do not exist purely in the Dark. That is simply where we are most comfortable." Heading out the door to find her own room, everything just seemed to click in her mind. Maybe, in a twisted sort of way, Julio had sent his daughter here not out of fear of her weakness, or lack of faith. Rather he had sent his daughter here to observe this Master and those who came in to study under him, to not only learn from him but ensure that the Dark Side had been properly represented. Rose knew in her heart she had a deep understanding of the philosophical views of the Force, after all a great majority of her youth had been spent reading up on everything she could get her hands on in her father's library. More than anything else she had poured herself into Julio's notebooks, and his break down of nearly every other book in the vast collection. Years and years studying just for the day she could join the ranks. Maybe this was all a test to see how well she understood all of it. She didn't need a Master to teach her to become a Sith. Sith she understood. What she needed was someone to open her up to the Force itself, to take her hand on the baby steps into the divine. He really was giving her the complete and free choice she wanted, but he had made sure she knew of his story before she went of to hear anyone else's. Rose had been used to sparse accommodations, given her parent had never let himself have anything he thought of as unnecessary, so the straw mat, cotton pillow and blanket was just as much as she needed to go to sleep. There was nothing else she really needed. As she rested her head on the pillow and pulled the blanket up and over her head, Rose began to cry again. She missed Julio, and Raea, and Lallu.

Suddenly aware of herself, Rose quietly sniffed her nose and rubbed her eyes dry as she felt the distantly familiar presence of another Sith. She had let her guard down with Master Aryian. It had been so easy. Not at all hostile, not at all holding that stigma of selfish indulgence of her father's clan. In fact Aryian seemed as if he was genuinely passionate about helping Rose find who she wanted to be, as confounding as a concept as that seemed. The open display of helpfulness was troubling to say the least, not at all what she had grown up with. So the very moment one from that other life entered the picture, the strong, well guarded Rose fell right back into place. "Hello, Lord Eris." She said as she turned around to look at her face to face, her smile brightly lit as she rose from her respectful bow. She knew everyone in the Sith Order, down to the names and faces of acolytes who's simple duties were to look after the station and maintain its functions. It was just a habit her father had gotten her into. He had said 'There is not a single person under you that you should not be familiar with. Betrayal always comes from within.' Emily had been one of the less ambitious Sith in the ranks, but still held a name for her capability and old family ties. She had never been as twisted or malicious as some Sith, which perhaps gave her the monicker of soft hearted, but Rose knew all too well how the stronger beasts had a habit of hiding just below the surface. "I can't say I'm too surprised to see you here. Many figured you would take on an apprentice and begin your own researches after attaining the rank of Lord, but the Dark Lord always knew your path would be a... careful one." She didn't know why she was speaking to Emily in such a way, with such a one sided familiarity that only showed how deep Rose was behind the inner workings of the Sith. Maybe it was because it was the only thing she had to talk to Emily about, as the only point in commonality between them, but even then Rose knew that to not be the whole truth. She didn't trust another Sith, and in tipping her hand to the political scene of the Sith Rose had shown how well connected she was and proved she was not a simple child. Whether she did it on purpose or instinctually, the young girl had in a way ensured that this potential rival knew who she would be messing with.

At first she was quiet, taking pause to consider this prospective new Master's words and how he carried himself. She tried to study him, look past the facade that everyone always put up to see the individual beneath the mask. Yet there was something out of place about this Aryian Darkfire. There didn't appear to be any overt defenses, nor any concentration devoted toward controlling himself or maintaining any inward peace. He, much like the background world around them, seemed to simply be, content in his being with no inward or outward motion. He felt genuine, naturally serene. All of this just sat wrong with Rose somehow. It didn't feel right. "That seems...almost empty." She said quizzically after some consideration. "Is not the essence of training to unfold a path before the student? Whatever you teach me, in whatever mannerisms you wish to teach me through will invariably mold me after yourself in some fashion, will they not?" As soon as the thought completed itself the young girl instantly blushed and felt somewhat embarrassed. Here she was, in front of who was supposed to be her new Master and already she was calling him empty, essentially foolish in a way. They were her father's thoughts and almost to the tee his words unfolding from her mind like her very own. For years she had adored him, looked up to him, and studied his every action and choice to try to understand him yet now it seemed it had imprinted on her all too easily. It was almost to prove the philosophical question to be true in the way Julio had already molded her after himself so well without so much as lifting a finger. Was this why he had always sent her away? Because he knew he had already taken her as far as he needed to to plant the seed of his perspective? "I...I'm sorry." She stammered out as her cheeks began to flush. "I didn't mean to insult you. It is just that...I don't really know my path at all. All I have is what I've gotten from my father's library over the years, and from listening in on his lectures. I could simply say that I am Sith and be done with it, couldn't I? But the entire way to Mechis I couldn't help but think that if that was what my father intended he could have trained me himself, or had any other Master of the Order see to me." They were barely noticeable, but the tiniest of tears began to well up in her eyes as the panic of uncertainty fell sway over the hardened resolve of Julio she had tried to emulate for so long. "Why did he send me here, Master Darkfire?" Her tone held notes of desperation, confusion. Just when she thought she had made the choices herself, to finally embrace the dark side and begin her training, she was abandoned yet again to a Master that was nothing like her cold, ambitious father. It didn't make sense. Was this all another test? Why did she even have to kill that man?...

With a silent nod Rose followed the droid to the skiff. Much was going on all around the planet, she could feel that without much concentration, but the mark her father had left on this place many years ago was still distinct. Buried in the great mechanical maze had once stood an Imperial facility, secreted away from even those with some of the greatest of clearance levels. Since he had formerly held some special rank within the Imperial military, her father had been called in to perform an interrogation on a Jedi prisoner. While it had lasted for weeks, Rose had stayed in the rooms just down the hallway to play with toys and the obliging personnel, as much as grown soldiers wanted to play with a Sith's daughter. Neither she nor Julio had ever talked about their time there, but even at the age of seven the girl knew what the screams entailed. The skiff ride was short, but the entire time her focus stood transfixed on that wounded spot many miles away. It echoed toward her, called to her in a way that felt bone chillingly familiar. When the ride came to a close, it was like waking up from a trance, snapping back to the here and now as she remembered where she was and why. As she had been trained the young girl pushed the thoughts from her mind and stepped into what would likely be yet another home away from home for however long her father, the Dark Lord, deemed necessary.

Was this any different from the dozens of other times he left her? She was older now, if that counted for anything, but really it felt the same. Empty, alone. The times with her father had always been amazing, but the long, drawn out periods in between had always left Rose longing. How was Mechis supposed to be any different than Gala, or Umbara, or Coruscant? Now she was supposed to be waiting for an Aryian Darkfire, son in law to the lady Draygo she had studied under for a few years when she was a child. He, too, was supposed to train her but in what she didn't know. Whatever it was, she doubted it was what she had intended to learn. Back on Spite she had taken the first conscious step into following her father's footsteps, the path of a Sith painted with blood. It scarred her, more so than she could have imagined, but she took the life none the less. This was what she wanted, she had convinced herself, this was the fate she chose for herself. To be like him, to gain his approval and love. To become strong enough so that he wouldn't have to worry about her anymore, wouldn't have to leave her on some force forsaken planet to spare her from the destruction and death that followed in his wake. This wasn't any different. The only change was now she was making decisions for herself. Opening up a console nearby on her landing pad, Rose typed out a broad wave message that should trip some alert or system command that this Darkfire would pick up on. ::This is Rose Furion, here to train at the behest of my Father, Julio. If there is an Aryian Darkfire present contact me when you are available.::

The waitress had been watching the pair as soon as the one wearing a Mandalorian helmet walked in. She couldn't really hear what they were saying, but good money from on high kept her attention to every detail, no matter how mundane it seemed. She only gathered the data, it wasn't up to her to piece it together or make any assumptions from it. Others would dissect her reports and surmise any importance, if any. As she picked up a few almost empty glasses and began wiping down the empty table, she heard one line over the cantina music. "I am Piccolo, and I am here to kill you." The waitress couldn't decide to go for cover or giggle to herself. Who introduced themselves before killing a man anymore? Yet something else caught her attention too, something she didn't quite register until later. Someone had been going around using the blind man's name? To what end? But as quick as her mind had strayed for the absurdity of thought there was an unmistakable snap of bone and crunching of something vital. In a rush it all seemed to click into place. Who this blind man was, or who he potentially could have been. At the very least the caliber of man he seemed to be from his speed and skill, even as blind as he was. She had to think, had to do something fast before this man got away. Her superiors would be furious when the read the report and asked why she didn't try to recruit him. Quickly she scribbled some numbers down on a napkin, pass codes into encrypted comm channels, and rushed toward the door toward him. "The Dark Lord has use of you, killer. If money, glory, guns, and bloodshed you seek call this number when you are alone. Don't bother trying to trace it. We can even get you new eyes if you want them." Placing the napkin in his hand, she spun about and was halfway back into the bar before she spoke again. "You may be good for it old man, but why bother creating a debt when you can just settle it right away?" She smiled holding up her own credit chip as if she had swiped it from him. "If this doesn't cover it, you can settle up next time you're in, alright?" It was for show, of course. Granted, most of these patrons were skunk drunk already at this early part of the day, but there could always be the occasional eavesdropper. By the time she was back at the tables, the man had been pushed from her mind as she brought the tables back to gleaming perfection.

Where the hell is it? The Master cursed inwardly as he tossed aside a large chuck of rock with a vulgar display of power. Three days now he had been on this desolate planet looking for 'something' for the Dark Lord. ::You will know it when you see it. Furion had said behind his desk, hands clasped behind him as his head tilted from side to side staring at or into something the other Sith couldn't see. 'Yes, Master, but what am I looking for? An artifact? A holochron? Some baby Jedi pissing himself in the corner of some dark tomb wishing he was back in the library?' Oh, how he wished for some blood. All this waiting was eating him alive. The Dark Lord only offered a soft smile at the warrior's eagerness. I cannot say for certain. There is something whispering to me from Korriban. Strands of fate and time tugging at me for attention. 'Probably some old ghost trying to get back in the game. Ya'know? Pull someone powerful down there to take over their body and get to live again. I've heard of it before.' I do not operate on probably, Master Vray. Something is on that planet and I want you to find it.:: And who was he to deny the Dark Lord? The warrior had seen and heard of some of Furion's exploits, and wanted not one piece of that. Hell, the man was rumored to be able to completely rip apart a mind as easily as unwrapping a birthday present, and put it back again anyway he wanted. Memories, knowledge, skills could be lost in the twinkling of an eye and you wouldn't even know you had been effected. What if Vray had argued with Furion, even said that he refused this mission outright, and the Dark Lord simply turned the idea over in his mind that he would do it anyway and forget about the arguement? No, for now it was best to follow this Dark Lord's instruction, as frivolous as they may seem to be. At least until another came along and stabbed him in the back. Maybe the next Dark Lord would be someone less terrifying to work with. "GOD-DAMN IT!" He yelled at the top of his lungs as he tore through more rock. There was nothing here, absolutely nothing in this decrepit tomb. Thousands of years of excavations had stolen anything that could possibly be of any use. What was the point? And even if there was something here, there would be no way he could feel it out through the Force. The whole planet exuded a terribly dark wound, while simultaneously felt as if it were constantly spiraling downward, waning in the power and presence it had held so long ago. Nothing here but depression and desolation.... Oh, hello.... Depression, desolation, and a lost lamb in the desert. What was he doing here? The presence was undeniable, someone else was here in this tomb with him, but where? Was he armed? Oh, how Vray wish he was a sour, violent type of grave robber. "Heeeeeeeeeeeeey! Can anyone hear me?" He shouted at the top of his lungs, hoping his voice would carry and echo far enough to lure the trespasser further into the busted tomb, rather than Vray having to find him near the entrance. If this stranger escaped and made his way into the desert, not only would the possibility exist that he could put the word out of a Sith's location, but also his chances of dying in the desert were too great and would rob the warrior of a fresh kill. And that would just be a waste, now wouldn't it? "Heeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeey? I'm picking you up on my scanner but I can get you on any comm channels! Think mine got busted in the fall! Can you...can you please come help me?"

With an exhaustive mechanical sigh, the planet of Mechis III powered a majority of its systems down, leaving on only auxiliary power to continue the function of some critical hardware needed to keep the whole system intact. No Sith had wondered on the planet in some time, and indeed one might question if they ever planned to return to this cybernetic wonderland. But for now, the great maw of the planet closed its steely jaws and welcomed home once again the man who had first given that spark of ingenious vivacity. ((Everything is ready for you, Aryian, just powered down to reboot the systems and recognize you as the owner. I'll get with you shortly.))

((I know you're busy bud, but I gotta move on. We'll call it a draw for now and revisit later.)) Nothing but garbled syllables escaped the young mandalorian between stone and spite, on the cusp of blacking out from the concussion. The fall had been too much, too unexpected and far too fast. Her own furious swiftness had been turned about and added to with just a shift of his weight. Flowing without direction, feeling freely without prejudice or hesitation, the Dark Lord's unspoken words cried out in that undeniable moment when head hit unforgiving ground. Every Mandalorian watching heard it loud and clear. The entire exchange lasted only a few short seconds, just one or two strikes from one another. It said 'You are nothing. I am stronger than your champion.' With a soft chuckle that classic smile of his came back to him in a satiating wave of victory and joy. And again he felt alive, felt right with his world and the next. Like his path was yet steadfast, and none could stand in his way. Julio rolled over and got to his feet in a slow and calm measure, watchful of all her kin still looking on, not sure as to the condition of the broken girl. As his gilded eyes surveyed the crowd he stepped into his casual stance, hands clasped unnervingly still in front of him. One month. He barked at the crowd, still searching for the right 'one', the true leader of these peoples. Surely they were watching, that's what this whole display was about. In that time I am going to war with the Galactic Alliance. That one. When he spotted the grey haired main on an upper balcony of the castle, surrounded by some of the better equipped Mandalorians around he noticed, his looking around stopped and rested wholly on him. If you want another chance to prove to me and the rest of the galaxy you are who you claim to be, if you want to restore your Empire to the glory it once held, join me in one month in deep orbit outside of Kuat. I plan to take their drive yards and hold the planet hostage until we've completed a few new war machines. I need someone to take and occupy the planet while I operate their yards. You keep yours, I keep mine. If this deal works out there will be many more just like it in the year to come. He offered the grey Mandalorian a kind smile before turning to grab his jacket and gear. Piece by piece he began to rebuild himself, shouting over his shoulder. And do not think I'd be foolish enough to tell you the entire plan. I have many contingencies in place for your possible venues of betraying my trust, and I am not a forgiving man. He straightened his jacket and reflexively pulled out a spice stick, already lit and took a deep breath. A cigarette just sounded delicious for some reason. Fight or stay here, conquer an empire or sit here playing with yourselves. Grow or stagnate. Now at the bottom of the ramp to his ship, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small comlink and tossed it to the nearest Mandalorian. This is how you can get ahold of me, and only a call from that specific comlink will get to me. Any others you try to share the number with will get rerouted to a moisture farmer on Tatooine. At that last part he laughed at himself. That man has been pissed for months for all the calls from Alliance Intelligence keeps making. His bill has to be outrageous. He didn't really wait for an answer. He didn't really expect an answer right now. Some strange person walked into their home, whooped on one of their child prodigies, then offered them a chance for war and glory. As odd as all that seemed it would understandably take time to talk it over. Plus, it wasn't like they could justifiably stop him. For all intents and purposes, the pair of them fought on the terms of a sparring match. As much as the girl's wounds may seem, in truth they weren't anything greater she'd receive in everyday training. Indeed a day or so in a tank of bacta, maybe a week of bacta shots instead, and every bone would be set back in place like nothing had ever happened. The ship took off not long after, and made it out of orbit, into hyperspace in just a few short flicked switches.

Nimble little minx. The Master thought to himself with a smile as the snap of his kick crossed bellow this little girl's rising legs, quickly gliding her up and up ever closer to him in a fantastic leap of aggression. Now this... THIS was the little girl he was looking for. The method, the movements were all from the same school of thought but now she wasn't just evading, wasn't just protecting herself and observing her opponent's actions. Now she felt that hunger, that passion burning in her screaming to unleash. Yes, yes this is what he came all the way to see. Show me your passion, little Mandalore. The force of his kick kept his form spinning counter clockwise, and as such begun to expose his right side and soon his back toward the opponent. As small as the girl was, it wouldn't be too out of the question to extend his right arm out and strike her mid air. The quick lash wouldn't have the proper power of a punch, but it would be enough to unbalance the bird of flight. But no... she wasn't striking, she wasn't even kicking. Mandalore was grabbing at his hair! With her fingers out stretched ready to clench at whatever she could get a hold of Julio's only option was to keep his right arm tucked in, protecting against an upper or mid strike or kick. The young girl fought as young girls do and fingers found purchase in a twist of braided hair. The dark Sith wouldn't be surprised if scratching and clawing was next. But he did not fight the warrior's hold on his head, instead he was worried about what that other arm would do. As the pair swung about, the bird found her perch on the Dark Lord's back, bringing her other arm around his neck to choke the life out of him. Yet his right arm was poised, tucked away for the counter. Her wing couldn't tighten with his hand squeezing fervently against her forearm just above the elbow, but worse yet she couldn't pull away. The pair continued to spin, but with the Mandalorian on his back Julio had no need of his footing anymore. He had his prize, an opponent riled for a fight and in close proximity. His left hand reached back to take hold of her hair and found her left ear along with it as he pulled himself down and forward driving his right shoulder in the spin. Now midair the pair flipped about, with their backs toward the ground. Holding her head in place directly behind his with the grasp of his left hand while holding her body close to his with his right hand on her forearm Julio threw all his weight into the crash down, and drove the back of his head as hard as he could into her face, cushioned only by the unforgiving stone floor of their dueling circle. Broken nose, cheek and brow bones, possibly a cracked skull and concussion against the stone, let alone whatever damage the ribs, shoulders and spine might take from the fall. The damage couldn't be ascertained until the warrior made an attempt to talk, and with it how much pain sang on her voice. But that consideration hadn't figured in a Mandalorian way of life. Certainly Mandalore could take a beating, but how much? Do you yield, little one? He whispered over his shoulder, still holding on with both hands. Or do you want to make it a little more interesting? Say for stakes? Seems your crowd has taken to gamble, why not we?

At the mention of his own name, Julio could see something resembling recognition in the child's eyes. She knew him or knew of him somehow, and in that knowing found a hatred she had not visited in some time. He didn't need the Force to see it in the young warrior. It was in the window to the soul, in her very eyes moments before the struggle began. Oh if only those damn slugs weren't around so he could properly feel her expression in every spiteful display of violence. But as it were he would simply have to take this the traditional way and observe his dance partner with a keen eye. As he stepped in and made his crass swing, the young girl made a deft display of her art by not simply blocking or backing away, but instead stepping in and ducking low to evade the swing all together. The step in was followed through with a punch and Julio's left elbow dropped down and back reflexively to protect the only target worth striking at such a low angle to his hard left; the soft spot of the lower back. The Mandalorian's blow found Julio's elbow before her follow through flipped her a few meters away. And with the fluidity of two forms in simultaneously pushing and pulling on one another Julio followed through his brutish swing hard and fast to spin his body about in a spinning kick toward the direction the girl fled toward. The kick would fall short of course, but would still pull him closer toward his adversary. She wasn't getting away that easy. As he landed, now just a meter between them, the Dark Lord spurred on without respite. He would not allow this little one to get away, never allow her a moment to catch her breath or even think. There was no time to thought in this matter. Pure, unhindered feeling took no effort to express. Stop hiding, little one. Show me your fate. Her fluid movements narrowed down the list of arts she could be utilizing, but not enough to give a clear picture. Yet knowing that much helped his mind form a more cohesive idea of who this girl really was. He had studied countless arts over the years and to this day worked a great many forms into his own art, but did not commit himself to any one form or set of forms. All of the arts, all of the time spent creating and amalgamating his own opened himself to the unrestrained. The formless form. Following up with his spin kick Furion pressed on with his momentum with another kick, this time low aimed for the knees. The forward force would be enough to bring him spun about to face her again whether the kick landed or not. As acrobatic as she was, he doubted it would land, but the pressing attack would force her to commit to a path. Stand her ground or persist in evading. And what exactly would the warriors onlooking the fight think of their leader being constantly pushed on the defensive by a Sith neutralized of his most potent skill and religion? Would they see their Mandalore being pushed by one they think so little of? Did they think his pride came without basis? They would see that he was not like any other Sith they had ever come across. He was a true believer in his path. They would see him for what he truly was soon enough.

As the circle formed around the pair of them Julio never broke his gaze or sly smile on his opponent. He could feel the Force pull away from him, evenly and in a wide circle as the crowd spread forth. Ysalimir he cursed inwardly though never once betraying his dismay. They didn't know he was a practitioner, and they didn't have to. For all they knew he was just some warrior trying to prove something. So what, this wasn't a trial of the Force. This was to be Julio's trial. And that suited him just fine. Alright little one. He said beaming as he began to take off his father's jacket. The lightsabers were already slid into the jacket pockets, the pistol and various blades, bracer. All of it folded into a nice little pile and cast to the side. For a moment he considered keeping the crushgaunt on, as he had always been able to pass it off as a mechanical limb, but of course these of all peoples would see the weapon for what it is. So it too he removed for the first time in a long time. Again in front of the Mandalore, Julio stood with only his black flowing hakama pants, with even his sandals set aside. He too was sporting a tattoo of twin suns capping his shoulders with a krayt dragon wrapping around them and down his back and chest. He couldn't help but smile at the girl's proud marks of victory. Names he recognized, some he didn't. Either way, they were opponents he wouldn't expect a girl of her size to handle. The Dark Lord walked toward the center of the battle circle to stand just out of arms reach from the girl. My name is Julio Furion. He said softly as he bowed, keeping his eyes locked on hers as he did so and rose. And I greatly look forward to this little heart to heart. In a flash his folded hands broke free in a swipe toward the left side of the girl's head as he stepped in toward her. Certainly the girl would be ferocious in her attack, death and violence openly accepted in her years of struggle, however he had the advantage. Even without the Dark Side on his side, he never utilized it in his martial training. The countless arts, new forms, and unending years of training, let alone the physical advantage in size and reach. If this little one thought she knew pain, she was about to be rudely awakened.

He stood at the edge of the ramp, hands open and at his sides as his soft sandal stride brought him to the landing platform. Many who presented a challenge would expect a stout warrior, tall and an obvious choice for the matter. But when the young face of a girl busted through the door and stood tall to meet his call the Dark Lord thought only of his own daughter. The blond hair, the short stature. But this one was all too different. It was in the eyes. Rose hadn't known so much death just yet. I ask for your strongest and you send me a child with a gun. Most interesting. Holding to his passive, easy walk the Dark Lord continued to head toward the mass of warriors. Is this what is considered strength these days? I was really looking for something much more...well. Julio seemed to look let down as his golden eyes searched around the castle grounds, over the crowd of onlooking Mandalorians, and finally into the sky above. He sighed heavily after a moment and brought his gaze back to the now helmeted Mandalore. I suppose if I had impenetrable armor and enough guns to field a militia I would feel pretty bad ass too. But it all seems so hollow when just anyone can pick up a gun. Where I come from a warrior is tested through their raw physical skill, and heart. He smiled his wry, wolfish smile at the last note knowing all too well this fight was only going to go how this little girl wanted it to go. He could point out all day the lack of prowess required to shoot a gun, but it was these people's pride in what they do and how they did it that would determine this game. So, what is it going to be little one? Shoot me down where I stand, or stand toe to toe?

Time. Such an abstract, cyclical thing. As much as individuals strive to make their own, unique way in the verse time has a way of turning them about to repeat moments of greatness, or striking times of terror. However the wheel seems to keep on spinning, people go on repeating history until the lessons are learned all over again. A renown scholar since he first started walking his dark path, Julio understood history and the patterns it exhibited. Here, now was his chance to use these patterns to his advantage. To make this time his time. As the shuttle touched down, the Dark Lord held himself at bay, the eagerness riding strong in his forward focus. The blood lust was beginning to make his teeth swim, his heart raced inside his chest. It had been so long since he felt like this, since he felt so free. For years now he felt like he had been restrained by his own calculating mind, unable to truly feel for his own fear of the unnecessary. Since tasting the sloth's special brand of madness that self imposed fear hasn't touched him. Give me your strongest. The message hit every frequency a thousand kilometers around the castle, calling out to every Mandalorian on the planet.

"Far." He said dryly as the boy's gaze shifted to the languid double suns high above them. Being one of the acolytes stationed on this desolate sandbox he had begun to grow accustomed to the brutal climate and hazardous terrain of the desert. Months spent networking his way through the political, criminal, and economic systems in this sparsely populated planet had left him tanned and jaded, forever losing the soft nature his boyish face inferred. To him today was not just any other day in service to the Master, however. Today the Master was here, on Tatooine, and this business with the Jedi was to be handled personally. What was it about this one Jedi that required the Dark Lord to personally tend to? This broke so many protocols he himself had handed down in the beginning. Never was the Dark Lord to come into contact with the network, never should he have been required to even leave the Station let alone come to this busted rock. After a moment the acolyte broke free from his stupor and made toward the speeder, a sudden haste in his stride as he returned his dark cowl. "Come. We don't want to be on the sands when night hits us."

"I'm right here." Followed the voice, just now turning the bend in the alleyway. "You have nothing to fear from me. I am simply an acolyte ensuring my Master was not walking into some underhanded Jedi trap." The robed figure dropped his cowl to show the fresh face of a teenage human boy. He couldn't have been that far past his term in schooling, yet his face held the weary years of a veteran of the front lines. Be it his time with the Sith, or perhaps his charge under the Dark Lord personally, the recent year had not been kind to this poor lad. "I can see now you travel alone. If you will just follow me." On queue a speeder stopped just at the end of the alley where the two of them had entered, without pilot or any other passenger. "It will take some time to get to the Master's location, so if you are in need of any provisions now would be the time to acquire them."

The dark robed figure, a sight aside himself under the twin desert suns, remained the only one in the market when the dust settled. Leaning against a wall with a long stalk of some sort of grass to pick his teeth, not a shred of skin belonging to this dislocated figure fell prey to the harsh rays of light. When brandished a lightsaber became, he remained unmoved, unaffected by the symbol of absolute carnage and mayhem. Of course the thoughtless mob would jump to Sith when it came to undisciplined lightsabers. None would dare take the time to think otherwise. The galaxy at war for generations past had denied them that privilege. Only when the Jedi started down the wrong path, directly away from him down a back alley headed Force knows where, did the robed figure break free from his wall mount. "Jedi!" Echoed a voice off the walls of the narrow alley. "Do you know where you're headed? The path you're on is dark and dangerous. Tread too far and you wont be able to stumble your way back." ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Miles outside of Mos Eisley, the Dark Lord stood at the mouth of a grand cave hidden in the shifting sands of the Dune Sea. A great storm months past had uncovered the entrance, yet not even the sand people had trespassed into this venerable and secret place. How long had the rock face seen the light of day this time about? How long had it been buried in the first place? Only time and inquisitive minds could tell. Whatever lay asleep deep below Julio felt he needed to traverse this great mystery, the very thing that consumed his thoughts and visions on the trip to Tatooine. Try as he might to concentrate on the meeting ahead with the former Grandmaster, this cave was the only thing he could think about. For a long, arduous hour under the baking suns Julio meditated outside the cave trying to derive its secrets without committing himself to a spelunking expedition, and to some degree it yielded results, though nothing along the lines of which he had hoped. There felt to be an entire ecosystem down there, self sustained and closed off from the world for what had to be centuries. Flora and fauna alike thrived despite the cruel nature of the world above, things never before imagined on a planet like Tatooine. Why had the Force shown him this place? What was so important down here as to draw his direct attention, something no underling could handle? The curiousness of it all seemed too much. With time he could surely divine purpose with concentration and meditation, but ever since he had consumed that filthy Hutt's mind the idea of sitting still for so long was maddening. His heart burned to discover the secrets, drove him to step where he would have never bothered before. Worst yet, what if there was nothing in this cave but a few forgotten plants and dumb beasts? What if the only thing that drove him so intently to this spot was an unhinged mind fixated on the shiny bauble? No...No, he urged himself. This had to be something. His feet had not left the path yet. This must be important. This is what I want. What I have decided. His very first step inside the wondrous cave was met by an echoing roar so deep, so loud, yet so far away. Julio couldn't help but ease his furrowed brow and let his wolfish grin spread wide.

Defiance to the very end, Dark Lord be damned. This was that fire he so admired, that reckless ego so willing to fight and die for what she felt was right. Foolish, of course, but a trait virtuous in ways long dead in his Order. That 'rightfulness' that solidified every footstep, the steps of a true believer. Yet this wasn't the time to praise the woman, nor punish her as much as she expected it. Relax, rabbit. He growled behind clenched teeth, still holding to the Dathomiri tongue in the case of eavesdroppers. No one listening in would understand the slack he was going to give her, or why. They would only see weakness, as any would at a casual glance. As much as I may quiver at the thought of mangling you right now, you are much too important to throw away for a Lord incapable of sensing an obvious trap. His head turned to the side ever so slightly to survey the violent scene again. He let down his guard. Essentially gave you his life. As he turned back to Qaela his eyes softened ever so slightly. The weak deserve their fate. The Dark Lord spoke now with a cold, almost detached resonance. Lucifer and Tobias only fought because I ordered them to. Not to the death, not out of any desire to balance past transgressions. Just a simple trial of combat. Soundlessly he took a few steps back, for some reason returning to the body of Tobias to crouch down. He scoured the crime scene, analyzing the wounds and displaced furniture like pieces of a puzzle, taking no note of the pool of blood he was stepping in. I foresaw the fight before it ever took place, and the many different paths it could take. Different victors, different methods and injuries. Yet this path, where you chose to intercede on Lucifer's behalf seemed most prevalent though I did not fully understand why until now. I did not see the connection you had with him, and how your cultural values of fealty and life debts factored into this ending. Julio reached out to tilt Tobias's limp head to face the ceiling, revealing the grievous wound sustained to the eye socket leading into the brain. The blow was straight and full of resolve. No hesitation or displacement in the weapon's path. Tobias had to be either caught completely unaware or incapacitated to deliver such a clean kill. I chose this path, and this eventual conclusion so that you may in some way understand me a little better. This man...these people...these are not, as you say, my clan. I do not give a shit about any of them. They follow me because I have the power to command them, that is all. But I have those I hold dear to me, those I would give my very life to protect. My daughter holding the prime weakness of my heart. His right hand tilted the head to the far side now, showing the back of the neck. As the Dark Lord's eyes narrowed into focus, the wreckage that was Tobias' spinal cord illuminated from beyond the fleshy veil. The Force guided his eyes through the severed nerves, and around the contorted muscles to show him the true death blow to this young Sith Lord. Most interesting. For her, He continued on just as abstracted as if not seeing a thing. For the future I seek to secure for her I will forgo the punishment you so rightfully deserve so that you may fulfill the destiny I have envisioned. I will forget that you ignored my one rule about murder. I will forget that you acted on little to no true knowledge of the situation of which you were reacting to. I will forget that you glossed over my own strong stances against those very same Sith that posed a threat to you. And I will forget that you put me in a position where I have to weaken my hold over these wretches to cover your sweet ass. On that final note he turned to her with a sarcastic smile. Standing now, he looked around the room one more time. The aesthetics of a murder always caught his eye. Ever since that great raid on Gala so many years ago. Well, it felt like a long time ago. So much growing in that time. But I do want something in exchange. Finally a chance for this partnership of ours to work somewhat equally. With a careful stride he eased over the body so as not to get his long pant leg wet with blood, and moved toward the built in refrigerator to the left of the kitchen sink. Every other step began and ended in a squish of blood, as his right sandal was now saturated in it. Julio pulled out a bottle of water from the fridge, his spartan side returning after the lapse into gluttony earlier, and made his way back to the center of the room. There is a Black Sun base on Cloud City. I would like you to take your friend Lucifer there and negotiate a deal with them. In exchange for their partnership, offer them anything within reason. Whether we pay up or not is entirely up to their conduct in the coming months. I believe there is someone you know there that may know where your children are, though I cannot say for certain who. I just felt...your presence...tied to them. And I want you to do the talking for me, not Lucifer. That mouth of his nearly got him crucified during the coronation, and he is still shaken from his loss. And without much else, he began to leave the apartment. Accept the mission or do not. It is entirely up to you. If you do not, I will send someone else. Whenever you wish to leave, there will be an acolyte waiting for you in bay six. It was odd, for both him and the witch, not to have some violent eruption in response to her trespass, but there was too much at stake right now, and Qaela had yet to realize how important she truly was. You have a greatness in you, Qaela. He said, switching back to basic as he headed toward the door. And I would much enjoy helping you realize that. With so many unanswered questions, the enigma of the Dark Lord vanished from sight just before reaching the threshold.

Stillness held him aloft the perceptible flow of chaos still saturating the witch's room. The blood, the lifeless flesh, violence thick in the air. So concerned with cleaning herself of these stains it was all too easy for Julio to glide amiss through the carnage. This moment had been building, laid in place long before either the dead or the one who made him walked through the door. It happened when he sent the young Sith to fight his brother for title, when he knew which would fall and which would fall much harder in the lesson to come. All of it was to culminate to this moment, this much needed instance of conflict so that there may be a greater understanding built. Just as Qaela exited the washroom, fresh from her kill, her eyes would swiftly click to the Dark Lord standing over her still pooling victory. For a moment there was silence as he simply stared at the body he himself essentially sent to its death. Curious thing, life. Hope you learned from this, brother. He said just above a whisper. Yet this went almost unnoticed as Julio took his first few soft steps toward Qaela. Who exactly do you think you are? He said with no reserve of venom in his freshly acquired Dathomiri tongue. Coming into MY house, killing MY soldiers, disobeying MY rules?! And for what?! What purpose could you possibly have for this transgression?! He stopped only a few feet from Qaela, just out of arms reach with his fists and teeth clenched. He had foreseen it all, expected and planned for as much, but that still didn't quell the rising anger in him. She still defied his rule in front of all of his people in his own domain. Retaliation could not be circumvented.

A reply was given from the same comm, originating in what is guessed Nar Shaddaa. Encoded and through all manners of relays and sub routes, Armiena Draygo would be the only one to find this message in any comprehensible sense. "Tatooine, Mos Eisley."

Oh, if you only knew. Seething fury slid past the wretched soul in a staccato temperance, dipping between the path and madness betwixt observable realities. What was this? Steps fell upon forgiving ground, making it oh so sweetly easy to flow ever forward. Why does this make so much sense? All conscious thought seemed to wane with progression through the narrow path back to his temple, certainty polishing all the marring concern and faithlessness scuffing the mind of late. Was this what was missing all along? An insane, baseless sense of rightness to blind one's ego to self doubt. Did it even matter? There was truth to this lie, an obscurity to it that made too much sense to question anymore. Why would he? Now all that was left was the fire. Everything was perfect now. Before where he stood in a blizzard of collected consciousness and pick out single snowflake thoughts, he now could feel how the very Force itself flowed through it all as one body. Just tides and eddies in the ocean tearing at one another. His own flow now was effortless, in and out through the hallways with destination firm in his grasp. The lab came upon them in what felt like no time at all. As prepared none other worked this wing for the time being, tightly secured for the private usage of the Dark Lord. As they passed the door, the room sat dimly lit with a lone lamp glaring white light upon a white sheet covering a body. The only terminals on were the few low beeping monitors surrounding the back of the room monitoring the thing under the veil. Brother, before we begin I must ask. Julio stopped steady stride in an quick turnabout, wide smiled and bright eyed as he looked up at the tall Hutt. Do you know what you did wrong? He let the moment linger, unmoving and soft in posture as if he may possibly give Sheog a chance to answer what was probably a rhetorical question. You made yourself weak. You gambled instead of ensuring victory. You see, you paid me in advance. You have given me all you could possibly offer, and now what use do I have of you? Not only have you eliminated any great advantage you ever had on me, but you have simultaneously elevated me in the same breath. Do not misunderstand me, my friend. I am most gracious for your gift, I would not have been wise to refuse it. Yet we must take pause to admit, it was very foolish of you. A very costly mistake, indeed, because now we get to do this the hard way. Where now anesthesia would normally get applied, and heavily, to the patient, Sheog found himself wreathed in fire at the snap of the Dark Lord's fingers. Not three feet away Julio stood, that bemused smile of his turned wolfish as his shadow crept its way through the flailing Hutt. The Krath's mind quaked in frenzy, ready at any moment to disconnect when it all became too much, but that would never happen. Julio slowly tilted his head to the side as he stared deeper into the living pyre, fighting to keep the Hutt's mind awake through the intensifying flame. Shock would never come to whisk him away from the pain, from the inability to even breath the superheated air around you to even let out an agonizing scream. From head to tail Sheog roasted alive, staked to consciousness like a cross. No, no no, my brother. Embrace it. Grow with it. You must pass every trial in your path if you ever want to escape. This whisper skittered through the Sith's skull as his body started to fall off in flaming chunks, words impossibly louder in his mind than the pain for just the briefest of seconds. More suffering, more pain, the Lord of Greed should have it all. So much, so fast, he should know what Julio had to survive just moments before. Teetering on the brink, the mind of the Hutt was lost utterly to the pain, perfectly so as to properly carve out whole. The fire had burned away the defenses, even past the madness into a bottomless pit of torture. When the jagged edges of consciousness were sanded smooth it fell free from the flaming corpse and fit neatly into a pocket of Julio's mind, tucked away and held tightly in place with great concentration for the short seconds before the wretched thing's soul fell not far behind. Slowly, too, did the soul break away. The silken threads tying it to this world severed when the will fell away, and now it threatened to break freely into the vast oneness of the Force. But before it could even break free from the body Julio was already spinning threads around it, masterfully stitching the mind and the soul together with the raw fabric of the Force. Quickly, as he held on to two thirds of Sheog the Mad, Julio sprang to the back of the room. The body under the cloth had no mind to speak of, wiped away to suite a blank test subject, yet the soul of the man still remained. Excellent. That soul served to be the very thing that tied Sheog to this new body, a small part of the bigger Force woven to comprise this new creature. There was something inherently wrong in the act, however. The soul of the man who previously inhabited the body marred the final product, left an abhorrent black stain on the already wretched soul. Any who looked upon him with the Force would see him as a the ragdoll thing he was, stitched together of various parts. No matter. With but a thought the door opened and in walked four red acolytes. They flanked just inside the door and awaited orders. As they waited, though, Julio turned to the now smoldering carcase. The ventilation fans now sounded blaring without the loud crackling and popping of the blaze. As he crouched down to begin sifting through the gooey remains with his gloved hand, he spoke out in just above a whisper. Take the subject to destination zero. Discretion must be absolute. As one the four red ones nodded and ushered past him to begin transporting the body, but Julio paid him no heed. He found his prize, the massive heart of a Hutt, charred like volcanic rock on the outside. In a heave he swept the heavy thing under his arm and strolled out, two acolytes waiting for him on either side of the door. "Master, an acolyte on Nar Shaddaa reports receiving an encoded communication on one of your old comms. Former Grandmaster Armiena Draygo Darkfire wants to meet with you about some urgent business." Ah, yes yes. He said as if expecting the message. Tell that acolyte to reply simply 'Tatooine, Mos Eisley.' Then order him to destroy that comm and relocate on planet. He may be compromised. Have a team watching him. "Yes, master." And they, too, nodded and walked on.

The maniacal glaze in the Dark Lord's eyes would have made all sane members of society cower. There was something in the way he stared without really looking that anything that screamed unhinged. At first his gaze shifted to the large Hutt with a most curious look, as if the words didn't seem to make any sense. But when the flask was offered up to him his eyes widened and his smile grew outlandishly like a child offered candy. Jealously he whisked the small metal container from the slimy hand and wasted no time tilting it to his lips. In a matter of a few graceless gulps the flask hung empty in his hands, dark amber liquor dripping carelessly from the corners of his mouth. More. He wanted more, but not just more liquor. He wanted more of everything, anything that would sate this unquenchable urge at the pit of his soul. This wasn't unlike the hunger he had always known. In fact, it wasn't anywhere near that all consuming fire in his heart, but whereas before he had delved deep into the mad mind of this Hutt and could reign in that feeling for the higher standing of necessity, now every petty urge screamed in his skull like an addiction. He wanted eat whatever he wanted, to drink until he blacked out, to take every dissociative drug he could find, to screw everything with a slit he could find, to kill every sad pathetic being that cowered before him. Every indulgence sat at his fingertips, and he wanted them all. No. NO! NO! He screamed out loud at no one but himself. The room itself seemed to shudder at the cry of contrition. Books fell off their shelves, the small hanging light in the center of the room slowly rocked back and forth. This wasn't him, this was that vile slug. It was too much, too fast. That god damned... A convulsion rocked him and he doubled over, back at full height in a flash. Before he knew what he was doing Julio was lashing out at the room itself, trying at all cost to let loose this fury on anything but the only other soul in this room with him. With a thunderous crack the large stone tablet composing his desk top behind him split in twain, the once sturdy wooden chairs in front of it crushed to kindling. Shelves ripped from the wall, lights exploded from their plugs, papers and whole books seemed to fly across the room. Just let it out, burn it out, rage it out... When there was nothing left whole in his study Julio finally opened his eyes again upon Sheog, this time with a furious clarity and intent that could not be mistaken. With his heart and soul Julio wanted nothing more in that moment than to kill the mad hutt. But instead he just stood there, slowly replacing his hands to clasp before him as he took calm, deep breaths. Steadily Julio Furion found himself again. Thank you for the drink, Master Sheog. He said politely with his soft, genuine smile seen on him a thousand times. Now then, you wanted a new body was it? Shall we proceed to laboratory six? I have been holding a specimen there to join my personal staff, but I think it will suit you just fine. ((Apologies, but I'd like to take this in steps. This post would have been too huge to do at once.)) ((Tobias technically wins. I do not really approve, but there's nothing I can do about it. Lucifer is thus an apprentice, Tobias thus a Lord. Both of you report to HJP))

And the walls came tumbling down. Every secondary thought parallel to true nature, every distracting vice indulged to quiet the voices, every layer of ego and psychosis built up over the years fell away with a level of control Julio wasn't even aware the Hutt could manage. There, deep within those wide, burning eyes lay the gate into this being's mind with but one of Cerberus' heads left awake to circumvent to have free reign. The madness. Without thought or consideration the Dark Lord lunged in, grabbing the slug firmly by the head as it all came pouring in. Lessons, feelings, sins, words, lies, experiences. All that ever was Sheog was his to understand. Greedily he dug, ripping and tearing his way through anything of importance, disregarding the trivial. It was his, all his and there was no hesitation in it. With every bit of understanding Julio could feel the burden of knowledge weighing down on him heavier and heavier. The air got thick, the floor below him harder, the ceiling so close it threatened to collapse in on them all. It was all so much...too much. No. It is not too much. Give me more. Give me all of it. The deeper he went the more dangerous it became. Some thoughts didn't seem to make sense at first, until they were looked upon in a certain insane light. Puzzle pieces with torn edges, pieces missing, it was all so obscure but it didn't matter. He would make sense of it, he would understand because he wanted to, he had to. It would all be his no matter the cost. Then it all was over. Snapped back like a broken rubber band Julio let go of the Hutt's head like it was made of electricity, stumbling backward into his desk. But he was smiling. His eyes were glazed over, staring off into nothingness in wonderment. Yes, yes! This was what he wanted. An understanding of the soul that had felt before now such a slippery thing. Like a conduit of water, tangible but not something you could take hold of and play with. Now it all made sense. You could in fact play with it, you just had to understand how to handle it, how to cradle it and feel its form in a grander sense. This wasn't like understanding an individual mind at all. This...this was more like seeing a single snowflake in a blizzard, in all its singular uniqueness. Maybe ten minutes later Julio started to come to his senses, realizing for the first time that he had been laughing, and for some reason crying. It didn't matter anymore. He could feel it all now, so much deeper than he had ever been before. Yes... He said in between chuckles as he slowed his breathing, trying to calm himself down. Yes I see. Quite splendid....

The Dark Lord listened intently as the Krath spoke. At first he seemed to gloss over how he was nothing like the others, not directionless and confused. Yet what did he come here for? Release from his physical bonds. A true Sith would destroy his own bonds with his own strength, but instead this one came to another for assistance. Any other time, any other Sith Julio would smack him around a bit, recite a few lines of rhetoric, and send him off to solve his own problems. But this one had a power of his own, knowledge of things Julio had never had the time to study himself. And Sheog, the clever business hutt he was, knew that. At mention of this new offer gilded prisms of instinctual aggression flexed into tightened circlets of curiosity. You would give this freely, completely?