Rezjal-el

Vaegir rose immediately as soon as he heard Qaela stir. Sitting in a crouched position, he looked the part of an animal ready to pounce. It was only after he realized just where they were that he calmed. Somewhat. They were in the belly of the beast. His group foolishly having had walked right into the lion’s den without even having prepared one of their small number to battle force users. Vaegir had spent enough time in the wilds to know when danger was afoot, and right now the hair on the back of his neck was tingling. “Right behind you.” He wasted no time in following along behind Qaela. At the very least, she provided some protection. Strength in numbers and all that. Strength, he hoped, would not fail them. The academy that had been so welcoming at first bore a predatory weight, the very air heavy with the intent of capture, and possibly killing of their small group. Furion was strong, wasn’t he? Always capable of fighting off an entire army on his own. Yet now, Vaegir felt so very vulnerable, even with the powerful presence of the Dark Lord. Then again, perhaps this was just another pseudo suicidal attempt to force Vaegir’s hand. He had already been deceived into survival training, perhaps now was something similar. If I survive this, I swear I will kill him… Vaegir kept pace with his fake master, a protective mental barrier held up at all times. Fear was pushed from his mind. Replaced once more with the somewhat vulgar thoughts of a young man. It was the only defense he had, truly. (waiting to see how Qaela and Lallu react before posting my reaction to the assault. Also, sorry about the delay. Haven't had a lot of free time since my recent move. Will be better now.)

((Holiday Chaos over. Time to get back into RP gear!)) Relief washed over the firrerreo upon arrival to the living quarters. His guise had been simple enough, all things considered. A back water, doddering padawn without much training in the force. Oh… how much it stung to realize that he was not so different, himself. At the very least, Vaegir was more talkative than Jadero. The greatest benefit of being so untrained in the force was that it there was little to nothing to make him stand out in any particular way. He wasn’t a beacon of dark side malice or an emotional typhoon brimming beneath the surface. Vaegir’s presence in the force was negligible. He knew this, and at the moment it was a great strength. So, therefore, ‘Jadero’ had to be much the same. Forgettable. With a polite ‘thank you’ to their soon departing escort, the apprentice swiftly sat himself down upon a nearby bed. “Spared no expense, did they?” he asked of his ‘master’, eyes wandering the room as he spoke. The guest quarters were all too basic. Jedi apparently needed very little more than a bed, a roof, and a glass of water. “When do ya think we’ll get to see the caves? I’ve only ‘err heard stories of em. Supposed to be beautiful beyond words. All those gleamin’, glowin’ stones shining in the dark….” Despite being out of earshot of any passing jedi, the guise of padawan was not dropped. There was no telling if the jedi had listening devices installed in the small room. “Think we’ll get to see em soon?”

Vaegir had been following along with the small group, his eyes cast skyward as he watched the individual fat snowflakes fall and flutter about in the breeze. It was such a relief to be on a planet with an atmosphere, particularly one without a never ending urban skyline to mar the beauty of its skies. Oh, and the snow! He’d not seen such weather in years! The sheer excitement felt by the young sith seemed enough to keep the cold at bay. He at least showed very few signs of discomfort, wrapped as he was in his warm clothing. Silence served him well as he simply let the masters talk. After all, he was a young hopeful from a mining colony. It was likely that he didn’t have the greatest social skills, much less an impressive education. Given his cover story, though, he could not help but lament the loss of his matted dreadlocks. They perhaps might have added to his disguise. But oh, two years on Dagobah had taken their toll. So, perhaps it was for the better. Regardless, he did his best to maintain the look of a socially awkward padawn who didn’t get out much. He smiled when people looked his way, nodded when he was mentioned, and kept close to his master’s side. Bright eyed, bushy tailed, and damn near excited by everything new. That was him, Jadero Lorruro, padawan extraordinaire. Jadero? Well, it wasn’t a name that he would have picked for himself, but his “master” had already spoiled a chance for him to come up with something on his own. At the very least, however, it was another name to add to his long list of aliases. The violet-gold hues of his eyes danced about the enclave as the small group was welcomed inside. Mouth held half agape in apparent awe, the young man definitely looked as though everything was new and exotic. For an added touch, Vaegir even let his eyes drift over the feminine forms of passing women, both jedi and non-jedi alike. The firrerreo himself wasn’t exactly a sexual being. Hell, he lacked a blind Neanderthal excitement that so many other males seemed to exhibit when it came to matters of the flesh. That was Vaegir Renor, though. Vaegir had standards, acquired tastes, even. He was now Jadero, inexperienced and uncorrupted youth that still could let his eyes wander from bosom to bosom with lightning speed without much thought as to whom they belonged. That, and the purpose of the exercise served doubly. Should any of these jedi try to read his thoughts as Furion often did, they’d only receive flashing images of a young man’s fantasies; not exactly the kind of thing that a cursory observer would care to indulge in too long lest they find themselves blushing. Dirty thoughts aside, ‘Jadero’ was proving to be an amusing persona.

So, this was it then. The real deal. The true start of his life as a Sith. Vaegir had expected months if not years of academy style training. Working in safe, controlled environments in which the only real danger was the chance of failure. It seemed, though, that Furion’s methods differed greatly from the young apprentice’s expectations. Well, perhaps that was not entirely true. Vaegir had long since abandoned expecting anything from Furion aside from the unexpected. The briefing was simple enough. In fact, it gave him a tingling sensation in his palms. The feeling one might get when standing at the edge of tall structure. The immediate and very real excitement brought on by the promised rush of adrenaline. Visions of old holo movies filled his head as he listened, the young man seeing himself as part of some team of experts come together to pull off a legendary heist. Who was he to be then? The knife man? The hacker? Maybe he was the face man? When we get in, Qaela and Vaegir will assume the relationship of Knight and Padawan. Qaela, you will be there to help guide Vaegir in selecting his first crystal. You two will be guided away from the main temple, down into the caverns where the crystals are pure and untouched. When you get far enough away from the group, take out your escorts. I will try to suppress your movements as best I can, but they will know something is off when you make your move. Yep, definitely the face man. “You mean… ‘take out’ as in… ‘knock out’ right?” Vaegir found himself asking aloud. He was not unaccustomed to violence, but he had never experienced it on a person to person basis. Many creatures had fallen to his blade or his spear, but that was purely a predator and prey survival scenario. This was full out infiltration and assassination. Understandably, the inexperienced Sith had issue with the idea of taking the life of another sentient. But in the end, it was going to be the jedi or himself, and the idea of death or capture was highly overrated. The knowing smirk from Furion was all he needed to answer his question. "Come along then, Padawan," “Behind you, master.” Vaegir replied, speaking in a well-practiced, upper class accent. It was something he and his friends used to do to make fun of the ‘nobles’ who arrived from the core worlds and often thought of themselves as having celebrity status on a distant planet like Firrerre. Indeed, Vaegir even referred to it as his ‘poncy’ voice. He made his way to Qaela’s side, dressed in his own Jedi garb. Robes were never something he had made habit of wearing. They felt very loose and light on the body. In fact, were it not for their obvious visual presence, he may have thought himself to be naked. Nudity aside, he took the opportunity to study his would-be master. They hadn’t had the chance to speak much in private, so any measure of apparent rapport between them would have to be fabricated. After all, a master and padawan needed to have some sort of chemistry between them. Then again, he was only playing off his knowledge of intrapersonal relationships. The Jedi could very well be a collection of wet blankets that merely tolerated each other’s existence. Regardless, Quaela was nice to look at. She at least appeared to be capable of holding her own. Were it to come to violence, she might not have to resort to ambush and surprise tactics as much as he. So, there was that.

Vaegir kept the pace with Lallu rather easily, his footfalls swift and honed from years of running and sprinting in the wilds. He kept at her heels, letting her lead the way back to her locker. Every passing corridor and hall was committed to memory, and with no time he had a working mental map of the station. Not all of it, but at least from the library to the dormitories and back again. Such information would prove useful with time, he knew. That, and it never hurt to know where your friends rested their head-tails. Somewhere along the way, though, the twi seemed to pull ahead with enough speed to not only reach their destination but also set about ordering an acolyte around. Something about gloves and fingerprint scanners and the like. This situation was growing more and more curious by the minute, all this tech, all the lack of details. It had Vaegir curious to say the least. "Anyway. C'mon Rez” His eyes grew dangerously narrow if for only a moment. That name was not one he shared with anyone. His true name, his birth name, the one that held any real significance to him. Having it used by someone who had yet to earn it fully was enough to spark a sudden flash of anger. Though, knowing the Sith ways, at least having an idea of them, he’d do his best to cover up such reactions in the future. He’d not want someone using his protectiveness of his name against him. “Vaegir, you mean.” He corrected rather swiftly, keeping himself calm. "We're heading off in a shuttle docked in shuttle bay 003. We are going to visit the tribe first, and then we'll take a small detour, get cleaned up and make an appearance at the ball. I don't know exactly what Furion wants with our presence there, but given that he gave us both retinal scanning contact lenses and finger print scanning contact sensors in our gloves, I assume he wants us to get to know the guests." “This field trip is getting more interesting with every second. Furion really has a lot of faith in us, it seems.” Granted, Vaegir did not truly mean that. Furion likely saw them as expendable, and his ‘faith’ was placed more in his ability to replace the both of them rather than trusting in their capabilities to pull off such a mission. But, Furion himself had said that he would not place them in situations that he knew they had no chance in. So maybe he did have a measure of trust in their abilities, and trust in their unworthiness should they fail. The trip to the shuttle bay was short enough. The pair made their way into the large, open space. The room was vastly different from their previous surroundings. It was large, spanning many, many meters in either direction. Of course, it had to be, given the size of what it housed, but having gone from tight-spaced corridors to a wide, open hangar was a rather abrupt adjustment to make. “How far a ride is it to this Harrun Kal, anyway?” It seemed fitting to ask. The purple and gold hues of the Firrerreo's eyes traversed the outside of their shuttle, marveling at its design. He had only ever traveled hyperspace a few times, the majority of which having happened since his release. Space itself was still all too new to him.

“You seem to have something against moving rocks.” "Don't get me wrong, I understood the lesson behind it when I had time to think. But... well... it's a bit of a story, really." He stated in response, not entirely wishing to tell the tale of his re-emergence into conscious reality. As far as he knew, his species may still be on the Galaxy's Most Wanted list, so best to keep things on the down low. “The important part here is that this code doesn’t seem like it is an overarching code. I mean, in a way, I could see that every Sith follows it in the end, but each path is different. Just because my brain virtually exploded with painful memories and these words mean something specific for me, doesn’t mean that if you don’t have the same reaction that you won’t or don’t have similar feelings. Haven’t you ever wanted to be free from something? What things do you struggle with?” "Well, when the time comes that I get a strong reaction to the code, I'd prefer my brain staying in one piece. But, I get it. I'd need time to mull it over. Time to actually give it some thought." Thought wasn't all that necessary, truly. The back of his mind was filled with painful memories, most of them relatively recent. The casual observer might look at him and notice nothing out of the ordinary, just a smug looking young man who likely needed a good punch to the face. But truly, beyond his at times jaunty exterior there laid a confused, scared, bitter, and angry soul just biding its time 'til it could finally lash out. But, such feelings were buried deep, hidden within his subconscious, leaving him a numb shell of himself. Inner reflection would have to wait, however, as the message from Furion played out rather plainly from the small speakers on the com device. Despite Lallu's expectations, Vaegir actually looked interested. At the very least they were headed somewhere with an atmosphere. Somewhere with power and electricity. A combination of those two things were greatly appreciated by the young Firrerreo. "We did just get here, yes. But, I'm ready for a field trip. Fresh air, all the comforts of home. Spend a year or so on Dagobah and you'll understand just what a difference running water can be." Came the quip of a response before he too was moving rather hurriedly. Granted, he owned next to nothing, and everything he needed was already on his person. But, it seemed an appropriate enough time for running. Everyone else was doing it, right?

It was with abject confusion that Rez initially viewed the odd display. The twi’lek simply fell to the floor as though struck over the head, and given his sheer lack of understanding of Sith ways, he could only begin to guess why. Perhaps she’d been struck by some unseen force, or some mystic had placed a curse on the immediate area. Maybe Furion was setting them up for some kind of test of mental strength. The poor acolyte was without any real answers. He placed a hand upon Lallu’s shoulder in an attempt to comfort her, squeezing her skin gently at first, though there was something stirring beneath the surface. Just as quickly as he had rushed to her aid, he drew his hand back, looking at his bare palm as though it had just rested atop a hot stove. Though instead of burned flesh he saw only his normal tanned skin. “Lallu… are you going to be…” he started to ask, though what had initially started as a mere pulse of power beneath the skin had begun to radiate from the woman’s body. “…I’ll just… be over here then….” On careful, measured steps he backed away, hands held up defensively as though to block out churning torrent of force that was building within the room. It was like nothing he had felt before, a palpable energy that grew only more and more potent with each passing second of the Twi’lek’s trance. Not even in his earlier encounters with Furion, the times before the man had become his master, had he been able to sense such disturbances. But now, now he felt them all about himself, anomalies in space and time that each apparent force user seemed to emit. It was as though the air about each such individual moved and danced as though over an open flame. Now Lallu was no different. Well… she was writhing about the floor in a state of panic. THAT was different. Having grabbed Raia by the collar of her shirt, he drug her back a few feet into the safety of the corridor. He knew not how dangerous such emotional rampages could be, but he was also unwilling to find out. Men and women swarmed to the Twi’lek, grabbing and gripping at her, trying to hoist her from the floor much as he himself had done. But to no avail, she was committed to her pain, committed to whatever it was that plagued her so. The Firrerreo watched on, chewing his lower lip in thought as he waited for the episode to pass. And pass it did. With time, the power began to wane and the acolytes and other such students began to back off. It seemed as though they would survive the day’s events after all. ----------------------------------- “That was really something.” “Yes. Yes it was.” Vaegir commented, still looking at her as though she could burst into flames without so much as a moment’s notice. “Apparently I have heard that code before. I don’t really know how easy it would be to explain, because I am not a master of the Sith and nor do I know exactly what the code preaches. However, I would guess that it means something for each individual. These words: Passion, Power, Victory, Strength, and Freedom. They resonate within all of us, but each of us has different definitions for them.” “Well, you would likely know better than I. All I remember is a few early training sessions about getting angry and moving objects with your mind. I tried a few times on Dagobah, but… nothing happened. No matter how much I yelled and screamed at inanimate objects, they didn’t seem to budge. I think I saw a branch wiggle once, though it could have just been the wind…” He paused, realizing he was rambling. “Well, the point I was getting to is that they’re all very central to Sith teachings. Passion… anger… emotion… such things grant us the power to move stuff… and through moving stuff I gain victory…” The young man nodded, feeling rather sage-like at the moment. Paraphrasing at its best.

"Alright, well nothing is going to happen with us just standing here. We need to get moving. Follow me." “Well, that’s not exactly true. Suns will continue to burn, children will be born billions of miles away, and I’m fairly certain that the air vents will continue to buzz no matter just how cross I may get with them…” he turned, staring rather accusingly at a nearby vent as though it had just paid grievous insult to his mother. For all he knew, it had. He didn’t speak vent, but oh, one day, one day he will master their language and then who will have the last laugh? Right. Another entry into the to-don’t list. “But yes, after you.” The young firrerreo fell in step behind the twi’lek after having made sure to guide the suspiciously quiet Raia along. The girl had fallen into an unsettling quiet state within the past few minutes, and having two years of no one to talk to, Vaegir was all too eager to have a conversation with someone other than his own thoughts. So, given that Raia was set on not speaking, he sped up a touch to walk alongside Llalu. Much as he had before, he’d likely spend the next few minutes of exploration chatting her ear, or those weird cone things on the side of her head, off. Through the station they wandered, watching as countless droids, technicians, and other workers mulled about to fulfill countless tasks. Faces came and went, corridors changed in layout, but overall most of the station seemed very similar. Furion must have wanted to test the minds and memories of his sith. It was when they reached a turbolift that any real progress seemed to be made. The stars whisked by as the lift carried them into another hub. The training hub, to be exact. “…and that’s when I discovered the importance of airing out your boots at the end of the day.” The trio came to a stop upon reaching the archives. It was a modest room in size, but it had its fair share of terminals and other data-displays that gave interested students places to read up and learn the lore of the Sith. But, what caught the eyes of the newly entered group the most, however, was a sizable plaque with a series of inscriptions emblazoned on its face. Peace is a lie, there is only passion. Through passion, I gain strength. Through strength, I gain power. Through power, I gain victory. Through victory, my chains are broken. The Force shall free me. Vaegir wasted no time in wandering closer, his eyes traversing the phrases time and time again, attempting to draw in their meaning. “It’s oddly poetic. For Sith, I mean.”

“…maybe the code is to a… a...” Vaegir quickly falls silent, a glance toward Llalu having caught him off guard. Now, he was male, and still fairly young. Two years had gone by in which he hadn’t so much heard a woman, let alone seen one. Suddenly, though, the room he was standing in had an increase in its nude female population. Moments pass before the young firrerreo has to shake his head to refocus his thoughts. He was staring, but he did eventually snap his gaze in a different direction entirely. Instead, he was now facing the dull grey metal plating of Llalu’s wall. “I wonder how they get it so grey. Maybe… there’s a painting process… or something…” he mused aloud, cupping his chin between his thumb and forefinger to assume proper ponder posture. “I think he means the Sith code, but he never told me what it was.” A glance over his shoulder revealed that the coast was clear once more, and Llalu had returned to a far more decent state. “Oh…so… ‘code’ as in… slogan… or… set of rules?” He asked, head tilted to one side as he regards the Twi’lek. “I had thought the Sith wouldn’t be so keen on rules, given their ‘get angry and move rocks’ mentality.” Vaegir, admittedly, had an odd introduction to the ways of the Force. “I suggest we check the library. Now that I have some actual clothes on the walk won’t be as rough.” The smirk on Llalu’s face only caused Rez to flush a light shade of red. She must have noticed his awkward staring and subsequent turnabout. Rude. Though there was something about the casual way in which she changed in front of he and Raia that made him wonder if she was even aware of the social implications behind being naked in front of new acquaintances. Regardless, he knew more about Llalu than he had previously. “Yes, I suppose that’d be the most ideal place to look. No doubt if it’s the Order’s rules, then we’ll find them hanging up somewhere.” Without wasting any more time concerning himself with the vision of Llalu’s body, Vaegir took up the twi’lek’s trail, following along at her heels.

((Vaegir’s actually more of a tan, or bronze-ish than he is gold colored. But, s’all goodio)) His footfalls hit the floor at an even pace, keeping on the Twi’lek’s heels as she wandered deeper into the station. He’d not had much of a tour beforehand, so at least with their small group they wouldn’t get too terribly lost within the sprawling, chaotic corridors. That’s what concerned him most, getting lost in this maze of predators. He was only a minor blip on the radar by comparison to some of the far larger blips that bleeped and blooped their ways around the halls, holding power far greater than he could ever have imagined. Thankfully, though, his master was the biggest blip of them all, so perhaps that would offer him a small measure of protection. If not… well… he’d have to bloop some blips right back off the map. Even the most powerful of beings could be outwitted or lured into a false state of security. All this talk of bleeps is neither here nor there at the moment, however. With a wave over his shoulder, Vaegir signals for Raia to follow along as their excursion to Lallu’s bunk continues. The purple-gold hues of his eyes snap from left to right, taking in every detail. He’d never been good with things like street names, but he knew his landmarks well enough. Even on this uniform metal plating, there were subtle details that made certain areas distinct from others. Perhaps it was a specific scuff or scratch, or a minor thin spot in the paint. Oh, yes, with time, this maze will no longer prove to be as imposing as initially thought. "Master Furion said I was supposed to learn a code or something. Do you know what he meant by that?" “I’d assume there’s a great many codes to learn in a place like this, big… mechanical space facility that it is. But, from what I saw, most of the doors don’t have locks, so maybe the code is to something specific, like… like… erm… the… armory?” Honestly, the Firrerreo had never heard of any sort of code. His knowledge of the Sith was limited only to what little he’d experienced already, and that was summed up in the idea that Sith were angry space-wizards. Powerful, angry space-wizards. With a shrug, he looked to Lallu, thinking she would know better than himself.

“Names have power.” That they do. Such a concept was nothing new to the young man whose people rarely if ever gave their true names to anyone. Llalu was preaching to the choir, as it were. Vaegir’s name, his true name, was the only possession he had left. “Sounds neat, sorry I had to rip you away from a life of such excitement.” “Well, it wasn’t as exciting for the first year. But, when you spend enough time alone… then the voices start to kick in and you’re never alone again. They say funny things from time to time. Tell you stories. Lead you around the wilds in search of some sort of hidden transmitter or other way off the planet. One time, there was even a tale of a cache of old nerf hides. Trust me, it’s best not to believe such stories. Their sources aren't the most credible.” All the while the firrerreo kept a straight face, though he did let a slight, twisted sort of grin worm its way along his lips. “I need my training clothes for starters. It won’t be long before this dress is nothing but a handful of seams clinging on for-” “I’m sure there are worse things than...” "I am sorry to interrupt, but I was sent to speak to Lallu and Vaegir by the Dark Lord. I am Raia Selik." Vaegir paused, turning to acknowledge the newcomer before he can finish whatever remark he had in mind. Granted, it’s not as though he was about to say anything lewd, but it may have been borderline, so in a way, this Raia person may have done him a favor. “Yes, that would be us, indeed. It’s nice to meet you, Raia. I see the Sith have welcomed you in typical Sith fashion” he said in regard to the bloody battles that so many new apprentices had to participate in. He put on a friendly face, that odd, twisting grin giving way to one that seemed far more natural and far less mad.

Vaegir’s expression remained as jovial as ever. It may have been speculated that his grin was simply his resting facial expression with as often as he kept it up. “Vaegir Renor, though I would have thought Furion gave you my name before he sent you to fetch me.” The young man reached out, grasping Llalu’s offered hand and giving it a firm shake. He was keenly aware of the value of first impressions. Granted, this was his second meeting with the Twi’lek, but something felt distinctly different. It had been established that she wasn’t simply a one-time acquaintance if Furion’s use of the term ‘sister’ was any indication. Either way, he was quite sure to keep his grip strong about hers, unwilling to give an impression of weakness of character or of physical strength. “Thank you, by the way, for giving me the pick-up. As much as I’d enjoy living out the remainder of my life on a swamp planet…. I feel I have more to gain now that I’m off of it. Odd, I know. My only regret is that I didn’t have time to tell the glow sloths ‘goodbye.’ Odd creatures. Glowing bellies. Judgemental expressions. But quite friendly when they’ve come to realize your face isn’t food.” Rambling on as he did, Vaegir came to realize a few things. He was in a good mood. It had been years since last he can remember an emotion other than anger, regret, or fear. The change, grudgingly, was likely due to Furion’s influence. It gave the firrerreo a pause once the realization hit him. Though, ever in control of his expressions and his thoughts, the conflicted feelings didn’t show upon his face. “A pleasure to meet you on a more official basis. Now, tell me, what do a pair of charming young sith do with a space station at their disposal and what appears to be a good amount of free time?”

The re-introduction to eating for pleasure as opposed to pure necessity hit the young man in ways he was hardly used to. The flavors, the textures, the sheer opulence of it all. The once mound of various foods upon his plate disappeared into his maw at speeds that would make even the most corpulent of hutts proud. There were several times in which he let his near-feral nature get the best of him, elongated canines ripping into meat and bread as though they were fresh kills. Granted, Vaegir wasn’t trying very hard to conceal his heritage, though it was only when his fangs showed that any non-human traits were made distinct. The others around him seemed to pay him mind. A few may have giggled at the beastial display, though should the firrerreo’s gaze meet there’s, the laughter was quickly stopped. “Bleh….” Vaegir let out a relieved gasp, leaning back in his seat. His stomach was full for the first time in years. The contrast to the day before was not lost upon him. For two years he had spent his time with what felt like a perpetually empty belly, and it could be days between meals. Here, food lay in abundance and he didn’t have to kill anything in the process of acquiring it. A minute or so passed with him sitting back and simply taking in his surroundings again. The odd chatter of fellow neophytes and apprentices met his ears, though he picked out nothing of any real significance. A life of hunting and constant activity had taken its toll on his ability to sit still, well… that and the creepy-uncle shoulder pat he received from Sheog made him anxious for something to do, so he could remain seated for only so long. Without a word he slipped to his feet and onto the open floor. The gold-ringed hues of his eyes scanned the room, looking for a distraction. It was then that he noticed the familiar black-skinned form of the Twi’lek reemerging from the depths of Furion’s chambers. Paying little attention to personal space he proceeded to march his way right up to her. “So… now that we’re going to be associates of sorts… perhaps you should grace me with your name?” he greeted her, letting his features take on a charming smile.

“Oh, hey, Furion wants to…” Vaegir addressed the dark skinned twi’ as he passed into the corridor. She didn’t answer. “… right… good talk.” With a shrug he continued on his way, paying no heed to the woman and her perpetual silent treatment. His feelings on the twi’lek were mixed. She was indeed his rescuer, though she came at Furion’s behest. She remained closed off and unwilling to so much as engage in even the smallest of small talk. Hell, Vaegir didn’t even know her name. But yet, part of him wasn’t ready to write her off entirely. Some small part of him wanted to consider her some sort of…. Friend? Acquaintance? Regardless, she was the only person aside from Furion that he knew aboard this station, and Furion had just made it clear their relationship was not one based on friendship. Realistically she’d prove to be little more than a rival. This he knew. This he had to keep telling himself even as he made his way back to the gathering of Sith. Shouldn’t be surprised. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The air in the ball room seemed altogether different. The scent of blood and sweat had indeed tainted the air, but there was something else that caught his attention. FOOD! In his haste and fury he had neglected the overflowing feast that lay only a few yards away. The smell of succulent meats and fruits gripped at his senses, drawing him closer with its siren song of flavor. Two years with little to eat but moss and half-cooked meat had left his tastes adjusted to survival mode. Food had been fuel, pure and simple. Now... now it was something to be cherished and enjoyed. Now… food was an art form. Each footfall carried him closer to his goal. A plate was scooped up from a nearby table. A fork as well. Finally he stood before what had previously been something that existed only in his wildest of hunger-inspired dreams. Every other dish was piled onto his plate before he made his way to a seat. Despite his careless indulgence, he’d not let his joy lull him into a false sense of security. He chose a place amidst a number of newcomers, their timid eyes and youthful behavior seemed more fitting to someone such as himself. To be perpetually youthful, at least when compared to a human’s shorter life span, could be both a blessing and a curse. In this case, it allowed him to blend in as just another young potential. Well, that, and it made his sudden, urgent need to shovel food into his fanged maw all the more acceptable…. Sort of.

Vaegir's shaking fingers closed about the familiar handle of his knife like it was the hand of a dying friend. Seeing it shoved so fiercely into solid stone had indeed worried him that it might be destroyed. His relief was evident, however, as he realized it was more or less unscathed. The blade's value was purely sentimental at this point, considering he could likely get it replaced with any manner of cutlery within a matter of minutes (and in all likelihood he would do just that). A short motion of his arm has the knife replaced on his belt and the young man found himself eye to eye with his new master. "None... master..." he said the word 'master' as though it was part of some alien tongue. The uneasiness he felt when saying it was quite visible in his overall body language, then again, nothing about his little chat sat well with him. As far as he was concerned, his old life was long gone. Now, at least, he faced a whole new chapter. Perhaps this one would prove a bit more liberating than his past experiences. Most of them were rubbish, anyway, so all things considered this may very well be a high point. Nothing to lose, everything to gain A turn of his heel, a step toward the door, and Vaegir casts a glance back over his shoulder. He studies Furion a moment longer, considering just how much his view of the man had changed in a short span of minutes and just how much it will change in the future. But, despite the daunting tasks that likely laid in wait.... he found himself grinning. A challenge. A life worth living. Something productive to do with his time. The cost may be great, but so too is the potential payback. "You'll know where to find me, I'm sure."

Vaegir listened to Furion speak on and on about creating enemies for the sake of the challenge they could create. Razing nations if only to spur others to act in retaliation. The idea was a troubling one for the young Firrerreo, though resigning himself to a life as a simple civilian, working some menial task and enjoying a mundane, unfulfilling life seemed akin to suicide in his mind. The offer extended to him was not one a person receives on a daily basis. Hell, it was likely not one that a person received more than once in their life… and Vaegir was nothing if not an opportunist. But no, it was not that simple. It wasn’t a desire to simply grab at some semblance of power or authority. It was a desire to transcend his current, meaningless existence. Vaegir had lost everything. He had no home, no family, no friends, and a dark feeling in the back of his mind told him that his planet was no longer available to him as well. Indeed, he may very well have been the last of his species. Given that line of thought, he certainly wasn’t going to be content with letting the Galaxy pass him by. He was meant for more than that. His potential to be part of something greater than himself, something that actually mattered, was on the line. And Furion’s offer, laced with words of freedom and ascendancy, rang too sweetly within the younger man’s ears. “So what is it going to be, Rezjal-el? Return to the flock, or shepard the galaxy?” His name? His real name? Furion just spoke it naturally, as though he had known it for quite some time. Instantly, Vaegir’s brows shifted into a dangerous glower. Amongst his people, true names were not something freely given. They were gifts, signs of trust, and if nothing else, a true name held power over its owner. “I…. never gave you my name.” He finds himself saying, trying to speak in more than a low growl. The immediate anger at the usage of his true name soon waned, leaving him standing there, confused, upset, and on some level his privacy was greatly violated. Furion was in his head. The Dark Lord simply reached in and perused information in his mind as though it were little more than a magazine detailing Vaegir’s life. Oh gods, every moment of fear and insecurity was Furion’s to read over. A moment passed, a few awkward minutes of silence as Vaegir considered his options. Despite his initial anger, he knew full well what was at stake. And despite Furion’s complete disregard of respect and/or common courtesy he was offering the chance of a lifetime. That much could not be ignored. And this talk of breaking chains. He would break his chains while Furion hooked yet another about his neck. Freedom, but at what cost? He thought, truly considering the question Oh, the cost of your property, life, and possibly savings account. Countered the sarcastic voice in the back of his mind My savings? Joke’s on you, mate, I’ve got nothing. Well, you could always reject his offer. Live a life of another insignificant cog in the machine… I hear some of the bigger cogs even get vacation days. Ooooh, how appealing. Stuff it. You know damn well we’d likely be more than any worthless, replaceable bit of machinery, metaphorically or otherwise. Oh? And you have what going for you? Your planet’s gone. Your family’s gone. Your fortune and birth right, gone. You’re going to just show up on some random planet without any knowledge of current events and suddenly set up shop? Oh yes, I’m sure they’ll make you emperor within a week. Indeed they will. Who can resist this charming smile? Cool guys. People with an IQ greater than 80. You know, most anyone with half a brain. Need I go on? Well, I wasn’t asking for you to be such an ass about it. I’m you. You’re an ass. Valid point. I thought so too. Damnit, focus. You know, you really should just take his offer. Oh? Should I? I may enjoy being part of a flock. Wool is always going in and out of fashion… And why not? You know you’re better than that. You’re meant for so much more. This man, despicable as he may be, is willing to teach you his ways. He’s willing to give you his time in order to make you greater than what you are otherwise. Dagobah may have been hell for you, but consider what all you’re capable of now. True, and I did get to kill a snake monster beast thing. It’s more than that, you dolt. Why is it you were finally able to kill that thing when at first you could do little more than run and scream like a sissy? Well, I learned how to survive. And? I…. well… I… found the will to continue living. I found that I could learn to overcome my circumstances when I took the time to understand them... Oh? Did you now? And now that you’re done simply coasting through life… don’t you think it’s time for bigger and better things? Yes, but the offer scares me. There, I admit it. Of course it does. It’s servitude in return for unparalleled ability. Sway over the universe. Influence beyond what you can do with simple flesh and bone. Perhaps you’ll even get a lightsaber. One that’s real and not made of plasteel. Oh, I loved that toy as a kid! Yes, yes you did. But damnit, this is important. Given the choice between a mundane, inane, and pointless life as a sheep or an exciting, educated, and insightful existence as a Sith, what would you choose? Do you choose to exist as every other pointless slob or are you going to have a legacy? Sith, I suppose. You suppose? That’s hardly good enough. There’s no turning back from either path. You either will or you won’t transcend from your current position. Choose a life of servitude without gratification or a life of servitude with great moments of self-realization, power, and achieving things beyond what you may be otherwise capable of. And what if I don't like what I become? What if this changes who I am fundamentally? That's just another risk you'll have to take. Furion may take things from you as freely as he would anyone else. But you cannot let him change who you are. Never lose touch with what makes you inherently Rezjal-el. You may be a different version of him in the end, but do not lose yourself. You survived two years on Dagobah and returned with your sanity in tact. You did not become a beast, you became the beast's master. You're far stronger than you know. True. I suppose that this will simply be another test of character. I'll grow stronger in both body and mind, and in the end, perhaps I'll even have to give Furion a thank you card. Oh, yes, one with a happy kitty on the front. He seems like a cat person. There was no use hiding his mental processes. What perhaps may have otherwise been a moment of stonefaced resolution was indeed quite a show should anyone be watching for even the slightest of facial twitches. The decision was not one made lightly, and Vaegir took his time in settling upon his decision. His lower lip even twitched as though speaking his inner debate aloud. “I will gladly shepherd the galaxy, Furion.” He says, finally breaking his internal monologue long enough to speak. “I….” and he could not believe the words as they came from his mouth “…give myself to you.”

“I have been wondering much the same. Surely you would not have summoned me back or even bothered to free me from that prison ship unless you had something in mind, Furion. Need or not, I am still here due to your influence.“ That was true enough. Vaegir had begun to understand the way in which Julio worked. The Dark Lord never acted, never did anything without an ulterior motive. The fact that Vaegir was in no way needed seemed all too clear, given Furion’s apparent sway over Sith politics. But, the human had seen fit to release him for one reason or another and that much spoke volumes to the young Firrereo. There was something up the Sith Master’s sleeves and it was likely more than a fancy wrist watch. Though that too would be a pleasant surprise. The knife was offered in return, and foolishly Vaegir did indeed reach out for it. For a second he had thought the gesture to be a simple enough returning of property, but like most things involved with the Dark Lord, there was a second purpose. Wordlessly, he watched as Furion ripped the blade from arm’s reach and slammed it home into the desk, leaving it there as a show of strength and perhaps just what Vaegir could hope to achieve one day. “I want from you nothing less than I want from any other who walk the Path of the Sith. I want you to kill me.” A moment passed where the two simply stared at each other, their gazes locked, their bodies unmoving. Needless to say, Vaegir did not speak for a few seconds more before he managed the will to so much as form a word. “…k…kill you? Why would you ever want something like that?” It did seem like an odd thing for a self-appointed deity to wish for, unless of course it was part of some draconian ‘become a god in 5 easy steps’ ritual.

"Those were hard earned experiences gained through no other means but by simply living them. I know." What was he doing? What the hell was this? For so long the Dark Lord was little more than an object of Vaegir’s hatred, and now… he was weaving words like thread. And what a tapestry they did make. What was once pure, blind hatred was now being argued away with logic and reason. In a way, Furion seemed more genuine now than he had ever been. Certainly the man had his reasons, though did the ends justify the means? Certainly not. Vaegir’s life had been Hell and this man was to blame. The Firrerreo found himself attempting to recite the list of grievances visited upon him, tried to hold so dearly to that burning hatred that had nourished him for the past two years. But Furion’s words… the genuine tone of his voice, they played at the already conflicting emotions in the young man’s head. “You could live a happy life, away from this place, away from the Sith and myself. Unlike most of the broken souls that find their way to me, you are still functional in society. You can find a snug little place to fit into. A home, a wife and children of your own, a job working a third of your day away to the gains of someone else. Live, breath, and die. All anyone ever asks for. But do not lie to yourself and think that it will be any different than Dagobah. You are alone, you will be used by those with power over you, you will be betrayed, and you will spend every day of your life watching out for those who seek to take everything away. Everything you do will be toward preserving what is yours, and it will never, ever be enough. I have shown you but a taste of darkness, something which you will never let yourself forget.” Vaegir’s hand was upon his knife the moment Julio turned his back, drawing it free little by little in order to keep it silent. The man’s words fell upon him even as he positioned the tip of the blade between his index and middle fingers, arm rising in preparation of a solid, swift throw. The time was now, that much was certain. A single motion of his arm, a flick of his wrist, and Furion was a dead man. He had to act, he had to make this evil, treacherous being suffer for his crimes. “agh…. bastard…” A sudden, loud ‘thunk’ resounded throughout the room. The knife was indeed thrown in Furion’s direction, though it found itself lodged deeply in the back of a rather unfortunate chair. Vaegir simply couldn’t do it. The drive, the once justifiable pact of revenge had lost its steam and now lay wedged in a mahogany coffin. For someone so used to hiding his emotions, so used to keeping up a mask, he was in turmoil. The battling feelings played themselves out rather plainly over his face. He had hesitated, and he had failed. Furion had managed to best him again. “I hate you, Furion.” “I want to, at least.” “For years I had thought of little more than driving this knife into your chest. I had fantasized about watching you die a slow, painful death at my hand. And now… that all… it seems so trivial.” A part of him was keenly aware that Furion just may be playing upon his vulnerable emotions. They so rarely saw the light of day that when they did rise to the surface, it took very little to provoke a response. With his hands clenched at his sides, the young man pondered reclaiming his blade and simply finishing what he had initially intended on doing. Though, those thoughts held no merit. What was the use? He’d already disarmed himself and given the Dark Lord plenty of time to react. And at this point, did he really want to harm the man anymore? Remaining where he stood, Vaegir continued to speak, though he let his voice relax into a more controlled tone. Or, at least, he attempted to keep himself from sounding as truly shaken as he was. “Well now. I am here and I am listening. You have my ear, Furion. What is your intent? What grand schemes have you to share?”

No? Not in the least? Furion sent him there fully knowledgeable that he could die within a matter of minutes. Another twitch made its way over Vaegir's brow. Survival seemed just about the only thing that Vaegir had learned, at least as far as he could figure. Though, Furion wanted an answer and an answer he would get. "Oh? What else did I learn? I learned fear, Furion. I learned how to spend my every day and every night constantly looking over my shoulder because some big claw-beast could leap from the woodwork and kill me at a moment's notice." "I learned that swamp monsters don't make for good conversational partners." A moment of silence passed as he thought more thoroughly about his answer. The more he spoke, the more he began to understand. Understanding, however, did little to calm his already rising anger. The fate thrust upon him was entirely wrong. Furion's methods needed work. "Loneliness. Half the time I was talking to myself just to hear a humanoid voice. That my existence apparently means nothing to anyone. That people who I had considered allies were all too happy to dump me on some backwater planet and be done with me. " Another pause "Betrayal. Even someone who seems to be my friend is entirely capable of sending me off on a suicide mission and not even care." That realization, when spoken aloud, chimed within his mind. The thought of it plagued him, ate at him as he spoke. "I learned hatred." speaking it aloud and so directly made it all too real. He had used the term 'hate' before, though in a more childish sense, the way one dismisses a bad song or a particularly annoying commercial. But he had never used it and truly meant it in regards to another person.

Vaegir was incapable of hiding a subtle twitch of his brow as Furion spoke, particularly when the answer seemed so simple and without a deeper, more complex meaning. Oh, so it was simply to toughen him up. Right. That answer was not good enough, it lacked any real emotion. It was pure, simple logic. Coming from someone previously viewed as a friend... it was unacceptable. "And so I needed to be marooned on a gods forsaken ball of mud with nothing? Oh, I've thought of many 'why's and 'how could you's, though I fear spending a pair of cycles with little else to do but run, hide, and eat moss left me a bit ambivalent as to looking for deeper meaning in the world..." he says, doing his best to keep from shouting at the human on whom he'd focused so much hatred. "I knew you did not want me dead, though... some level of forewarning... training even... would have been bloody well nice!" "I nearly died, Furion! Every day. And what then? What if I did? Would it have mattered to you that you sent me to a grisly, toothy, clawy, starving death?" The more he spoke, the more he drew dangerously close to yelling, falling into the momentum of his angry tirade.

The only response given to Furion’s invitation was a silent nod. Vaegir did not know just where he was being lead, though as they moved to a far more secluded section of the station, he found himself more and more on edge. Every face he passed, every visible person present was viewed as a potential threat. Even the woman that accompanied both he and Furion. She was seen as little more than as an obstacle, something that kept him from driving a blade straight into Furion’s heart. Though as they walked he kept silent, going over a long list of grievances in his head just to ensure that his emotional level of ‘murder the jerk who ruined your life’ remained at an all-time high. For the most part he tuned out the shared words between the Dark Lord and his female companion, that is until the mention of a certain someone from his past. “They generally lost their ability to operate in the shadows a long time ago and you can thank Palpatine for that.” Palpatine, that was a name he’d not considered in some time. The last Vaegir was aware, Palpatine was still emperor, though these two spoke of him as though he had been gone from power for quite some time. Needless to say, Vaegir’s list took a seat on the back burner; for once, he was listening. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ So much gleaned from the conversation… and all he had to do was pay attention. Answers were coming to him bit by bit, though they in turn only lead to further questions. If Palpatine is gone, who’s the emperor now? Who is this woman, and what does she represent that makes Furion act carefully around her? Regardless, as the unknown woman takes her leave, Vaegir offers only a small wave of his hand before he steps forward and addresses Julio directly. “Well now, Furion, it appears you’ve been moving on to bigger and better things. Why is it that I’m just now joining the party?” he asks, doing his utmost to keep his anger at a slow boil

It was a moment of sheer and utter panic as the chandelier began its descent. Shards of glass, each flowing about the air as though of their own accord, filled the room with their glittering, shining promises of pain and death. Little could be done for those who kneeled before the Dark Lord. They remained frozen in place, unable to duck or hide from the oncoming points and slivers. Through the cloud and then down into the chests of the kneeling crowd, each bit of glass did its part to bind the gathered Sith together through blood and token. Vaegir could spot his special sliver as it drew near. He stared the small needle of glass down, unwilling to close his eyes in the face of death. This is what his life had become, one near death experience after another. He refused to show fear, refused to let the Sith take yet another moment of pleasure in seeing him squirm. And then it hit him. The needle dove into his skin, shocking him, feeling more like a heavy-handed fist to the chest. And then again. And again. If Vaegir had held any manner of loathing for the puffed up human, it was now eclipsed with a sheer and ever growing hatred. That anger practically radiated from the young man as the ink within his chest began to take shape and mar his flesh with a dark, Sith emblem. Vaegir could see it as he unfastened the buttons on his jacket, working the cloth free of himself to see as the opaque mark took shape. Much to his species’ credit, the wounds created by the needle-like glass sliver began to fade rather quickly, and with time the tattoo seemed as though it was already months old. The process of scarification and healing passed within only a matter of minutes, leaving Vaegir with only minor discomfort when he moved. And that, quite simply, was that. Now, let us feast to our new found path while our hopefuls prove themselves and provide a little...entertainment The dark ceremony ended, leaving Vaegir kneeling until it became time to rise to his feet. The so-called ‘entertainment’ was about to begin and the sight of some manner of odd furry beast man going head to head with a zabrak was hardly enough to draw his attention. He had had enough of personal suffering and watching the way the Sith so easily inflicted pain upon other creatures. Not that he pittied them by any means, but the spectacle of bloodshed didn’t excite him as much as it did the other apprentices who scrambled for a better view. There were far greater goals in sight. Furion remained atop of his throne, unguarded and without anyone currently pandering for his attention. Now was the time to act. To confront the man who had taken so much from him. Without a pause, Vaegir pushed his way through the crowed of excited hopefuls and adepts alike. His passing was almost entirely unnoticed, given the obvious distraction of man-beast awesomeness and teenage-girl battle wonder. Those who did not move willingly or could not be navigated about were merely shoved aside. Suddenly he found himself standing before the still seated Dark Lord. The sheer hatred he held for the man burned even brighter with the increased proximity. “Excuse me, but might I humbly ask the Esteemed Dark Lord for a moment of his time?”

The moments before the Dark Lord’s entrance were filled with little more than idle chatter and eavesdropping. Vaegir spent little of his time actually getting to know his peers, but rather attempting to gain a feel for just what he had been looped into. So much had happened since he had been released from his icy prison those two or so years ago. Sadly, the little information he gleaned by simply listening was hardly useful or of interest. Yes, yes, I’m sure you’re just DYING to be a sith. Oh, I’m certain you’ll surpass us all, you arrogant waste… The boastful and naïve blabbering of the gathered crowd soon fell silent as a lone, hooded figure entered the room. Furion. Vaegir knew the man well enough without even seeing his face. That damnable human was the sole object of his hatred for such a long time that upon sensing him draw near, Vaegir’s hand shifted toward the blade on his belt. Not that he intended on rushing the Dark Lord and simply knifing him then and there… but the idea certainly did pass through his thoughts. Thankfully, though, common sense was a strong motivator for the young hopeful. That, and should he indeed succeed in shanking said Lord, the consequences might not exactly prove favorable. For the time being, however, Vaegir was content to sit and listen. Furion’s speech was filled with anger and spite, complete with flailing arms and gnashing teeth. Or rather, that’s what it appeared like to one who had little to no idea what the human Lord was talking about. The better part of the speech was spent suppressing a quizzical lofting of his brow and a thorough application of palm to face. Yes, yes. Very little of this applies to me. Vaegir had grown quite tired of hearing the line ‘you think you’re a sith?’ No, in fact he did not. He hated the Sith. He loathed the Sith. Their fate meant as little to him as that of the creatures he had to kill and butcher to survive. The meaning of Furion’s speech fell upon deaf ears, though the passion and power behind the man’s stage presence was not lost upon the Firrerreo. He could notice the few gawking individuals who drew close to the seated Dark Lord, and for just a moment, he too could feel a small pull at the back of his thoughts. The urge to approach was ignored, however, leaving the young man standing defiantly with his arms crossed as more and more fools crawled on up to their master’s feet. Now...kneel to your Dark Lord. Kneel? KNEEL? What the bloody hell had Furion done to deserve such obedience? Another moment of temptation passed over the Firrerreo, wanting to remain standing (like a boss, mind you) while so many fell to their knees and groveled. That was, of course, until he noticed the powerful figures of the Hutt and so many other powerful presences give shows of supplication. If those creatures could give Vaegir such foreboding feelings and yet still choose to kneel to Furion, perhaps standing was not the wisest of ideas. You win this round. Vaegir slowly lowered to one knee, his head lowered, though his eyes remained focused on that most hated of men.

His violet eyes opened to the sight of familiar cut marble ceilings. Sunlight poured in gently through an open window nearby to his right. The walls bore a myriad of posters featuring sports figures, super heroes, and scantily clad models. There were small piles of clothes tossed every which way on the floor. It was the room of a young man. A teenage boy. It was his room on Firrerre, just the way he remembered. As Vaegir rose into a seated position he began to slowly take in the comforting image of his surroundings. Nothing had changed. Perhaps he had just awoken from a rather long, unpleasant dream. Dagobah? Really? Had that actually happened or was it merely a product of an avid, masochistic imagination? “Well… guess I shouldn’t read before bed…” The soft patting of his bare feet upon the marble floor is loud enough to resound within the room. It seemed as though just now he was realizing how his home was entirely too quiet. A few quick steps took him down the hall to the large, central living area. Normally at this hour he’d be greeted by the sight of his father sitting in his favorite chair, datapad in hand as he went over the day’s news. Not today. There was no chair. In fact, the room was devoid of furniture altogether. Empty. There was no sign that anyone had been home in quite some time. The subtle chill of heightened alertness began to tingle along the back of his neck. “Must be market day.” He reasoned. Though Market Day would never explain the destitute sight of the living room. The kitchen. Surely he’d find someone there. The family cook was usually always busy preparing one meal or another. Such might explain the chubby frame he sported for most of his young life, but the thought of his expanded waistline was pushed from his mind as he pushed open the door. Nothing. The room sat empty. Not a pot on the stove, not a meal in the oven. The room that once always greeted visitors with the scent of fresh food offered nothing in the ways of a gentle aroma. “Mother?” Silence. “Father?” No answer. “Straz?” His brother didn’t reply. “Ah… hah… they must…. Be outside…” The front door offered no resistance as he pushed his way outside. The sun’s light was warm. The breeze greeted his pajama-clad form as he took a few steps down to the opulent stretch of front yard. The lawn looked much like it had before, though the hedges were just a touch overgrown. No one had tended to the gardens in what appeared a few days. His house was simply deserted. His immediate outside surroundings were devoid of movement save for the odd breath of wind. Even a glance down the road provided little evidence to prove that anyone existed anywhere within visible range. He found himself running toward the end of the yard, scrambling for the front gate. Though something knocked him off balance. The thunderous crack of an explosion threw him to the ground. His horrified gaze snapped skyward to take in the sight of a gloomy grey mist as it began to descend upon the planet from the upper atmosphere. Hands trembling, heart racing, he could feel himself begin to cry out in terror as the terrible cloud spread across the sky, slowly blocking out the sun with its dense expanse. The world was growing dark, the color fading from the heavens. Perhaps Firrerre didn't survive its sacking... ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Brothers... Our time begins now. Gather in the ballroom. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Vaegir snapped awake, knife in hand, poised and ready to strike at…. Nothing?. Cold sweat dotted his forehead as he scanned his immediate surroundings. He was in his small sleeping quarters, not back on Firrerre as some unknown death cloud began to cover world. And Furion? His voice boomed from somewhere within the dream. The images of his abandoned house and exploding gas remained etched in his mind. How did Furion fit in? Was the dream one of the supposed Dark Lord’s tricks? Honestly, that man was just full of surprises, though creating dreams seemed something even Furion wouldn’t bother with. All that remained clear is that Vaegir needed to find out what happened to his home planet. If the omens he had seen served as any indication, then his gut feeling told him to not hold out hope for a happy story. “That damned human takes everything….” Came a low, throaty growl. The sound of nearby movement pulled him from his thoughts. “Gather in the ballroom?” Soundlessly he slipped to his feet and pushed out the door. He knew not where the ballroom was, but he would certainly find it. Furion’s presence filled this place, hounding the young firrerreo as he followed along with a small procession of acolytes. Vaegir had not set eyes upon the man for over two years, and yet he was fully aware that the Dark Lord remained close by. Force sensitive or not, he didn't question his instincts anymore. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ His arrival at the ballroom was rather uneventful. Groups of Sith began to file in little by little. Cliques among certain acolytes were all too obvious. Friends, or at least those that got along well enough to keep from murdering each other stood in their own little groups as they waited for the ceremonies to start. Vaegir, unlike most, remained without an immediate circle of friends. Time to play the game… Silently he made his way through the small crowd of gathered guests, doing little to call attention to himself. The only thing that marked him as any different from the next Sith was perhaps the two-toned hair he sported, though with time and calculated adjustments to body language, even that seemed more and more nondescript. He wished to keep attention off of himself for the time being. Merely blending in to the crowd. Another flesh-toned flower in a human landscape.

“Well, I didn’t quite have you pegged as the dress… sort, but well done. Consider me impressed.” The Twi’lek’s return to the bridge brought a measure of comfort to the young man. The past few minutes had gone by with little more to look at other than the pale blue glow of hyperspace. Not that Vaegir would complain, after two years of little more than swampland to look at, any sort of new sight was more than welcome. In fact, had she been stealthy in her return, she might have caught him flicking light switches at random. “So… just where are we headed, then? To some forest planet and a work site filled with faceless slaves? Alderann, perhaps? I hear it has such lovely weather this time of year.” The questions continued until Vaegir finally noticed the ship’s full deceleration. “I’ve always wanted to try brine shrimp with a side of….. You’re trying to kill us, aren’t you?” The black holes of the maw surrounded their tiny vessel. Any wrong move or calibration could cause them to drift too far into the gravitational pull of one of the deadly vortexes. The sight of them had the Sith potential sinking back into his seat. Either of his hands gripped the arm rests for dear life. With a nervous fit of laughter he snapped his gaze in the direction of his pilot. “You know… you can take me back to Dagobah. I think I’ll be fine. Really… hah.. hah.. hahah…. Hahahahaaaa…. Oh…gods…” His usual defense mechanism of making light of any situation certainly seemed halfhearted. The look of terror upon his face lasted until Llalu finally reclaimed control of the ship and assured that they’d both remain more than a singularity. More than one heavy, relieved sigh managed to escape the young man, though his heart was still pounding within his chest. The voyage from that point on seemed fairly uneventful once the whole creeping dread of being crushed into nothingness had passed. Then suddenly the sight of the mighty station loomed in the distance. “That? We’re going there?” As they drew nearer and nearer, Vaegir could feel his heart sink in his chest. Wonderful, another inescapable vacation spot. He was far less than eager to depart the ship. A great many fears were playing at the back of his mind. How was he going to adjust to being around people once more? What of Furion? Would he have to face that vile man another time? What was to become of him in the end? The questions came and went, though no answer made itself clear. Perhaps with time he would figure them out. For now, though, he figured it better to simply force himself off the ship. There is no better way to adjust than to simply take the proverbial plunge and jump right in. “You know…. “ He slipped from his seat and took up a steady stride behind his Twi’lek companion. “….I think I shall come along with you. If you do not mind, of course.” Even with the Twi’lek’s mastery of silence, she was still the only remotely familiar thing he had in this strange, new place. ~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~ The interior of the station was astounding. The sheer size was certainly not lost upon the young man as he wandered rather helplessly behind his guide. They walked through mazes of rooms and corridors, taking in the sights and sounds of the sprawling space station. It was easy to feel lost amidst so much metal and stone, but at least they took the times to choose their respective quarters. The sparse rooms provided little more than a bunk and a light, but to one who had spent the past two years sleeping on a bed of moss and grass, the room was an utter luxury. “I think I’ll be fine here if you want to go on without me…” He said to the black skinned Twi’lek as he drifted into the room claimed as his own. “Erm… thank you for the ride.” Alone again. He laid down upon the cushioned bed, his arms cradling his head as he stared at the plain, metal ceiling. This new place was so unlike the one he had left behind. The walls were hard and unmoving. The air was dry, artificial, and bore an unfamiliar weight. The presence of so many others. So many force users. It was as though their presence was always upon him even in the privacy of the small room. Ah well, he’d deal with it the next day, this one had been long enough With his knife tucked under the pillow, he rolled onto his side. The haze of slumber found him, lulling him into its dark embrace. Perhaps this new world would prove more hospitable than the last.