Darth Nyrys

Already nose deep in her newly recharged comm, Ailbasí was reading an article on Krayt dragons and their anatomy and physiology. "If we leave the building we're just exposing ourselves to it, and according this, it's faster than us. However, apparently it has a weak spot, a soft nasal cavity that leads to the brain. See, there's even a diagram picture thing." The hapless Sith apprentice held up her comm to show the hunter. "I can distract it while you line up the shot... I think anyway. If I'm wrong its not like I'll be around for you to yell at me though." It was like sticking her hand into a roaring river. Before she had jumped in without holding back, and had been swept away in the current as a result, but this time she needed some measure of control. Whatever she had done while trapped in that irresistible sweeping force still lingered to some degree on the bodies, waiting to be tapped into. She didn't understand yet, but the fear of death made her willing to gamble on guesswork and instinct. Earlier when she had been calling out, the corpse of that girl had been calling out too, mimicking her actions. Ailbasí plunged her hand into those dark waters, and immediately was nearly carried away by the freezing pull of their embrace. Digging her claws into her palm made a beacon of pain to tie her to riverbank of consciousness. The depths pulled, pleaded, demanded, and whispered seductively to her as she fought to stay in the here and now. Through the pain she managed to avoid sinking back into the waves, and instead steadied herself against the pull so that she could focus. Gossamer strands of ephemera, just like what had connected her to Sheog, and then the officer on Onderon, now drifted on ethereal winds throughout the building, each tendril leading to a dead body. She could feel their fragility through the binding, they were consumed shells no more resilient than a flaky puff pastry, but she only needed them to distract, not to fight. "Get up!" she cried out, and the dead obeyed her order in a disjointed and awkward stumble to their feet. "Run out there and circle the beast!" Ailbasí kept her orders simple and direct, not having any concept of where the boundaries were for what she could do. Some of the corpses didn't even making it outside of the building before their crumbling sprawl was terminated in the dusty explosion of a desiccated husk. Those that did make it outside began harrying the krayt dragon in a way that made its movements predictable for the hunter. With each swipe of a claw or lash of its tail she lost more puppets though. "If you're going to do something do it now, hunter!" Somewhere in the back of her head she felt a voice from the river, beckoning to her. She let it know that she would join it after the threat was gone.

"I... I don't remember, but at the same time I know that it was me that killed them. I think I was in a trance state, and my subconscious and the Force were doing whatever was necessary to keep me alive. Otherwise without my medication I wouldn't even be able to stand right now." Receding a moment into her thoughts, Ailbasí rummaged through her memories on the pre-invasion briefing data on Tatooine. There were two primary predators on Tatooine in this locale able to make so much noise, sand demons and krayt dragons. However, sand demons were pack hunters and this sounded like a solitary bellow. Stealing a glance through a broken window, she saw the creature stalking closer, a subspecies of krayt dragon called a canyon krayt dragon. "Good news, it's only the 30 meter long murder machine."

The moment was interrupted when an armored man entered the room, his hand already on the hilt of his sword. A moment of panic coursed through Ailbasí before it dawned on her that she recognized the man from earlier on the Marie. He had been a representative of the Onderonian nobility during the meeting… Maybe he had been sent to find her? If Gypht had kept her actions a separate consideration from her master’s, maybe he had sent someone to look after her? But here she was, waist deep in corpses of people that she didn’t remember killing, but somehow knew she had. Something beyond her ability to control had derailed her life, but if she kept running from it things would only continue to spiral further out of control. It was time to find her footing and learn how to take the reins of this strangeness. She couldn’t claim that she wanted this yet, but she definitely needed it. “Did something happen? I passed out and woke up here, and everyone was dead. We were on the Marie together earlier today… or yesterday, I don’t know how long I was out.” Ailbasí checked her comm in an attempt to orient her sense of time only to find it out of charge. She placed it on a nearby wireless charge pad that still gave a green glow of functionality, and was shocked when she saw the date. Once the device restored service, it also mentioned that she had missed over three thousand messages and calls. She quick tapped out messages to her ship’s pilot, her bodyguard (who apparently was already enroute and deserved a bonus), and the Sith, to let them know that she was still alive. She was pretty sure that the man wasn’t here to kill her, since he hadn’t yet, but he was still an unknown variable. A sound from out of sight but not as distant as she would have liked echoed through the room, barging in on her thoughts. “...That’s not a good sound.”

The sudden lecturing of the twins would have made Ailbasí jump, but ironically she was too tired to do much more than turn her head and listen. They wanted her to connect to the Force and it made her happy that Sheog had given her the training wheels version back when they had first arrived at Onderon, otherwise she wouldn’t even know where to begin. She tried to relax into some form of meditation like you always see spiritualists talk about on the holonet, but that only invited more fatigue. Feeling herself start to drift off further, instead she focused on the things keeping her awake. The nausea from all of the meds. The burning sensation in her eyes. The fear of what would happen if she fell asleep in front of the twins. All color except for red drained from the world around her, and voices and the humming of ship machinery were replaced by howling and screaming from throats that had no physical counterpart. Drifting somewhere outside her body in the currents of the ether, Ailbasí saw small clusters of dim motes of light across the planet. For the first time though, she saw the fuel behind the lights, untapped potential squandered by mediocre minds. From dust to dust they achieve NOTHING! Claim what you deserve from those that rot in the caged torpor of their lesser minds. The bonds of sanity and rationality slipped, and the world became a blur. --Two months later-- A rough and burning fit of parched coughing brought the world back into focus from shades of red and black, replacing it with dull white and howling tans and browns whipping across Ailbasí’s face. She tried to suck in a breath of sweet air, but she ended up with more sand in her mouth than anything else. Spitting out the clumped particles, she brought up the sleeve of her tunic to her mouth and used it as a filter, finally finding the air that her lungs were in searing pain without. Taking several deep gasping breaths, Ailbasí started to try and make sense of where she was and what had happened to her. The howling of what she now realized to be a sandstorm was dying down now, revealing her surroundings. It was some sort of hab unit, a quarter submerged in sand that the viewport glass failed to keep out. Had she fallen asleep and been left to die by the twins? She certainly didn’t feel tired anymore. She pulled herself up out of the sand that had partially submerged her while she was prostrate and began to move around. There was no more agony in her limbs, but at the same time she didn’t feel the chemical warmth and drowsiness of pain meds. Ailbasí tried to call out, someone must have taken her inside from the sandstorm. Her pleas were met with empty silence at first, but then from somewhere else in the hab unit she heard a dry and throaty voice, someone else calling for help. She gingerly made her way through the remains of the building, calling out to the other person and hearing them call back. They finally crossed paths in a hallway connecting multiple hab units. Black smears of fluid splattered some of the wall panels and at low points in the sand’s accumulation she could see parts of bodies protruding upward. In the dim flickering light of the hallway, Ailbasí could see a teenage girl moving towards her in an awkward shuffle, perhaps in some stage of shock? “Do you know what happened?” Not looking back directly at her, the girl responded with a fragmented repetition of what Ailbasí had said, coming out as “Do… you… happened?” Ailbasí grabbed her wrist firmly to try and snap the girl out of it, but the skin, sinew, and bone flaked and crumbled into dust under her touch. Ailbasí screamed, and the thing that she had thought was a girl screamed too, before exploding in a wave of particulates. Ailbasí vomited, and what came up was bloody and smelled like raw flesh. She charged into a hab unit in search of a refresher, and found a dessicated huddle of corpses on a bed. Behind them on the wall rending cracks like a claw writing in the stone spelled out words. This is who you are. “I don’t want this!” You will...

The bright colors and fuzzy opiate induced warmth had abandoned Ailbasí, leaving her with a dull sobering pain and traces of nausea. Her recent memories were muddled in a narcotic haze and the disorientation of a minor concussion. While her entire body ached, her shoulder and fingers stung with greater intensity, and Ailbasí realized that she had a medcast on her hand. She didn’t have it in herself to face what had happened, and what had almost happened, but she did have vague and confused memories Delta being there afterwards, and being… comforting? She didn’t deserve it, she had been so taken aback by the Sith asking her to kill someone that she had walked out mid conversation in a daze, which must have seemed like she was blowing him off. She made it to the briefing, feeling too restless to lie down anymore, but too worn out to be her usual bubbly self. Apparently they were going to Tatooine, because crime, but maybe in the solitude of the desert she could continue her Sith studies. She had, after all, completed the task that had been given to her, doubly so, and it’s not like she had cheated and smothered an old lady. Even better, she had managed to do it in a way that wouldn’t get her a death mark on Onderon. During the briefing she saw the woman that she had been told was her doctor and had assisted in her extraction from the hospital. She had severe, aquiline features, and black hair cut short in a pixie cut. Her face was covered in ragged scars that had healed a long time ago, and her eyes conveyed coldness both with their focus and their deep blue color. A comm text arrived on Ailbasí’s personal comm, from the woman. Your father understands the need for discretion, but requests a comm when able. Had her Dad seen her on the holonet? Or maybe they had contacted him while she was out in the hospital. Either way, it was going to be a long and awkward conversation that she wasn't looking forward to.

Darkness gave way to a dim glow, and somewhere nearby a steady beeping sounded, loud enough to pierce the fog, but gentle enough to not be an alarm. Ailbasí felt so tired that curling up into a ball and falling asleep for three forevers sounded like a grand idea, but she heard noises like words and slowly forced her eyes open. The light quickly let her know that doing so was a terrible idea. Her eyes adjusted to the light to some vague degree, and she saw Bendy McFurlessface, floating and flanked by a choir of singing porgs. He was twisting and undulating like a snake, and saying weird gibberish in a slow motion manner. Even though he was acting very silly and lime green, the tone sounded comforting, like the warm fuzzy haze she was in right now. He gestured over to a woman dressed like a nurse, and Ailbasí wondered if Bendy had gotten her a stripper. No one had ever done that before, and Ailbasí was admittedly unsure of the protocol for such situations. Ailbasí’s present started unwrapping itself but wasn’t doing a very good job of it. She must have been very ashamed of her performance because she was crying. A shouty stormcloud came into the room and had a blaster measuring contest with Bendy, and then together they turned the stripper into a thousand red butterflies. Ailbasí, touched by the profound moment of metamorphosis, and sincerely hoping that the woman was a better cloud of insects than she was an exotic dancer, commemorated the moment with thoughtful poetry. “Bah bah rud buh buh floos!” The stormcloud person pointed to the stripper’s outfit, and Bendy decided to don her outfit so that he might take her place in the world. The uniform was way too tight on him and Ailbasí leered while squealing approvingly. Top marks on his first day on the job, clearly Bendy was going to take the exotic dancer world by storm. Speaking of storms, the one in the room was making button pressing sounds with her fingers, and more warmth and haze washed over Ailbasí as the group floated out of the room together, serenaded by her new porg friends. “Sleegurgle battah nom nom!”

“...Right, I’ll just poke someone with the pointy end, I have it on good authority that that’s how killing works. Lysander, I get the impression that this is something that I have to do myself, but I’ll call you when it’s done. Maybe you can keep Delta company, you know, trade war stories and braid each others’ hair.” Ailbasí left the group to enter the crowds of the city, but had no idea where she was going, and felt a gaping pit in her stomach as she walked. She moved in a directionless daze through the streets, the sobering task that had been laid upon her had gutpunched the high that she had been riding for weeks now. She had always thought of herself as a good person, a lawful citizen and a determined student who treated others as she had wanted to be treated, but now that perception was going to be shattered. She knew she couldn’t run, they knew her name and wouldn’t be afraid of going after the people she cared about to hurt her. The only way was forward, and the worst part was that the major preoccupation of her mind was not wanting to get caught, worrying about how this would affect her. Maybe she thought of herself as a good person because she had never had the motivation to do anything bad, and rather than being good she had just been sleepwalking through a life untouched by moral choice of consequence. Now however, with reason upon reason building up for her to do wrongful things tonight, it seemed like a darker courage would be needed tonight, or at least the instinctual need to survive. On some level Ailbasí knew that the nausea she was feeling wasn’t just from stress and fearful trepidation, and soon it would be followed by burning fever, crippling pain, and a host of other symptoms. Without sanctuary for the night, she could end up in a hospital or on the streets and defenseless. While it hadn’t been an issue earlier, Ailbasí now acutely remembered the travel advisory for the planet. Onderon was another example of how xenophobia on primarily human worlds was an ever metastasizing cancer. She could feel the piercing stares as she walked down the street, hear the whispered insults and mockery. With enough clothing she could pass for human enough, but she hadn’t expected to need to go off on her own. Normally she just ignored it, but some of the voices were starting to sound consistent, meaning there were people following her. Ailbasí quickened her pace, but they did too. After enough years of dealing with the heckling, there was a numbness to it, the words replaced with formless sound and fury, like people trying to shout underwater. Some of the hecklers were getting more brazen, starting to move in front of her, screaming in her face. The breaking point was when one of them grabbed her forearm. As long as certain lines were not crossed, the best course of action was to just ignore them, but it was out of her hands now. The painfully tight grip of the stranger sent her instincts screaming to the foreground. Her hand reached into her bag, feeling at first the naked blade of the knife that the twins had given her, but she dug further until her hand found her Smartspray chemical incapacitator. There were too many here for the knife to be a remotely good idea. Depressing the activation stud, a streaming cloud of chemicals hissed forward into the face of her assailant, and he let out a confused and angry shout as the concoction contacted his exposed skin and eyes. New voices joined the cacophony, voices that were simultaneously incredulous, concerned, and demanding. Two humans emerged from the quickly forming crowd, one of them displaying some sort of insignia of authority, and the crowd surrendered some space to the four of them, but Ailbasí still couldn’t shake the feeling of being surrounded by Otherness. Words were being exchanged between the official and the man, now curled up in a fetal position and clutching his face, but Ailbasí couldn’t hear the entirety of the conversation. She could make out some words and phrases though, like assault, arrested, saw everything, and blood. Wait, blood? Almost as an afterthought, she became aware of a warm, wet, sticky feeling on her left hand, and noticed a slender but deep cut. She must have cut herself on the knife when she was reaching into her bag, and not noticed it due to adrenaline. The official spoke into her comm and within several minutes a repulsor transport already nearly filled to the brim with arrested cultists, and two police speeders arrived. One of the police officers had a quick exchange with the woman, revealing that processing was overwhelmed at the moment and procedure at this point was to get contact information for witnesses and victims, to reach out to them after the madness became somewhat manageable. At this point Ailbasí’s condition was starting to come to the forefront, and she could feel the shivers starting to move through her muscles involuntarily. “Ma’am, ma’am, are you alright?” The official inquired with a concerned tone in her voice. “She looks like she’s freezing.” offered one of the officers. The official felt her forehead and the fever burning there was readily apparent, “She’s sick, fever and chills at the same time. Well sick or maybe a reaction to whatever cut her.” The uniformed officers seemed to back up a bit at the mention of sickness, and Ailbasí didn’t blame them, she knew what she looked like when she missed her meds. “Not sick, at least not in the viral or bacterial sense, I have a genetic condition and I missed my scheduled time for medication, and it will take time for the meds to return my body to some semblance of normalcy.” The explanation seemed to put them at ease, fear of catching something was a near universal constant. “I’m Lead Detective Berast, ma’am and fortunately for you, I saw almost the entire encounter. However, we will need you to make a statement, and I have no desire to put you in general holding right now, and the hospitals are on high alert for any more bombs. This isn’t exactly procedure but if you want you can stay at our place until it’s feasible to safely get a statement at central.” Berast’s demeanor seemed genuine, even if something in her eyes seemed… off. It was probably paranoia from spending too much time around Sith. “Are you sure detective? I know you mean well, I just don’t want a repeat of that one incident.” One of the uniformed officers asked with his own measure of concern. “I think I can handle one feverish coed, rook,” Berast said with a large grin, “But if you want to be all protective and junk you can take her in your speeder and run her ID in the process. My husband and I are here in the two seater, and he takes exception to me putting him in the trunk.” The uniformed officer offered her an arm to steady herself on as they walked over to his speeder where he let her into the front passenger seat, a much appreciated kindness. She collapsed into the seat and secured the safety harness while the officer came around the other side. When he climbed into the driver’s seat she handed him her ID, earning her a raised eyebrow. “I don’t know what this incident you were referring to was, but I want you to know I’m not exactly a criminal, officer Rook. I’m a postgrad college student who was working on a dig and ended up on the weirdest internship ever, which brought me here, but I don’t know if it’s going to work out. Reality kind of shot my expectations out of the sky.” Under no circumstances was Ailbasí going to reveal what was asked of her, but she longed for the sense of connection and normalcy of a mundane conversation. “It’s officer Knell Maqlin actually, rook is short for rookie,” Knell said sheepishly, “and I know what you mean about expectations and reality. I’m in this uniform because I wanted to help people, to be a hero, but all I’ve found since I’ve gotten my badge is people that don’t want help.” Ailbasí looked at his face and saw a pain on it that had no place being on a face that young. “I don’t know, I mean I appreciated the helping hand and the ride,” she offered sympathetically, and got a half smile in return. “So what was the “incident” you were referring to earlier?” Ailbasí asked curiously. “You aren’t the first stray Berast has taken in, she’s a real believer in police tending to the roots of the community. About two months ago though there was a Twi’lek girl that she took in that snuck some drugs, got high, and nearly slit Berast’s throat. Fortunately or unfortunately what she had taken all came together to hit the girl’s heart so hard it basically exploded in her chest before she could kill Lin, but we’ve all been uneasy about her letting people into her home since then.” A measure of guilt crept onto Ailbasí’s face, would she end up finishing what that other girl started when push came to shove? Would she be another cautionary tale of why people should be afraid to show compassion to strangers? Even the people who survived would be hurt by this. Would it destroy Knell’s future career because held a conversation with a killer and never saw any sign of ill intent? And Lin had mentioned a husband, would there be cubs at her place too? A thousand internal demons gnawed and chewed away at her stomach until the time came for them to eat her soul. “Are you okay miss?” Knell asked, noticing the silence. Playing it off as her illness, Ailbasí launched into an explanation, “Humans and Cathars aren’t supposed to be genetically compatible, but my father was an imperial science officer during the galactic war, and had enough resources and lab access to make it work, so to speak. As long as I remember to take my meds, I’m pretty much as healthy as anyone else, but if I forget, basically my body starts rejecting everything in it as foreign, and that leads to bad times. Fever, chills, nausea, pain, more pain, shortness of breath, coughing, oh, and pain by the oodles. For obvious reasons I’m normally very good about staying on top of my medication schedule, but it’s been a crazy month.” The speeder gradually slowed to a stop outside of a suburban dwelling, far beyond the crowded city streets where they had begun. A long duracrete walkway stretched out to the door. “We’re here!” Knell said cheerfully, adding “Now you can finally get some rest, and if any hospitals resolve their codes tomorrow morning, maybe they’ll have something to help with the symptoms. I hope you feel better soon.” A shocked look of realization dawned on Knell’s face, and he ran for the trunk of the speeder. “Stars and stones, your hand! I am so sorry, I’ve been up since yesterday and it’s almost tomorrow.” He came back around the speeder with a medkit and the return of a very sheepish look on his face. Knell gingerly sterilized the cut and then applied a field dressing to it. “Thanks for everything, Knell, but I really will need your help getting to the door.” Ailbasí took hold of the arm he proffered and this time standing up was like plunging into an electrical current, setting every pain receptor in her body aflame. Despite the the brave face she tried to put on, walking sent hooks down into her throat to pull and tear out mewling sounds of pain as her body moved stiffly like a droid with rusted over joints. Remembering back to her time aboard Sheog’s ship, she reached out hoping to find even the smallest measure of strength to get through this. There wasn’t the rush of energy and heat like when she connected with Sheog, that had been like a blazing cataclysm that could consume a city block. This was more like a meek flame of candlelight, dim but comforting in its own way. Moving closer to the candle flame, it illuminated thoughts of home, a tiny box of an apartment with a bed that was too small but worked well enough. A nagging feeling informed her that Knell’s shift had actually been supposed to end about five minutes after he got the call about Ailbasí’s attack, but a sense of fulfillment seemed to sequester that thought and keep it in a dusty corner. A sense of fulfillment that he had found a good person to help… It cut into Ailbasí’s gut like a freezing cold machete. Back in reality, she doubled over while clutching his shoulder tightly and coughing, sputtering. She could hear him comm a hospital dispatcher to check if they were still code locked, but it felt so very distant and through a thick pane of glass. After the connection she felt so dirty and ashamed even though she hadn’t even done anything yet. Through wheezing, gasping breathes she fought to push the words out, what at this point felt like the most important words she would ever say. “I… am… I’m… not… good…” Tears streamed down her face both from the pain and acceptance of the words that she had just said. So this is what it feels like to be damned. Maybe if there was a benevolent force in the galaxy it would let her just curl up and die here before the darkness claimed its cost. But there would be no such sweet relief, only the cold abyss of an indifferent universe that had her against a wall, and that wall came rushing forward, feeling like slamming into a duracrete so hard it would leave bruises. Suddenly the wall vanished and she felt an embrace carrying her towards bright light, and between fevered thoughts she realized that she had fallen and that Knell had carried her in through the doorway to the home. A burst of cold wetness fought against the fever heat as an ice water drenched cloth pressed against her forehead. She felt herself being lowered into a bed with soft sheets… and a strange plasticy sound. A thousand miles away she heard Berast reassuring Knell that as soon as she got word that the hospitals were reopened she would take her there, hell or high water. Another human… the one with Berast earlier, lifted up her head and had her drink something, hot tea maybe? It tasted off, but that could have been a hundred things at this point. More words were exchanged, but at this point it was like listening through cotton swabs. Light left the room save for a partially cracked door, and sleep called so sweetly. Rolling on her side, a sudden pain shot through her hand and she dimly remembered the cut. Looking through half closed eyes, she saw that the wound had reopened and bled through the bandages onto the sheets. Muttering a string of curse words she slid over to the edge of the bed to see how far the blood had stained into the sheet layers. Peeling back the layers revealed that underneath the comforter was a sheet of heavy plastic, like a tarp. Why? Knell said Berast took a lot of people in, maybe stains were part of the territory. Sleep called, promising a clearer head with morning, she could apologize about the blood then, and apparently they were already prepared for such a situation anyway. She should have been asleep anyway, if only the pain in her hand had… wait. Why was she only feeling pain in her hand? It should be everywhere. It hadn’t been long enough for the medicine to kick back in. Sleep now loomed over her in a far more menacing aspect. Something was wrong. Her instincts were screaming that she needed to leave, and reaching into her bag she grabbed the knife. The door opened slightly, and a face peered inside. It was the husband, and there was a look of unwholesome hunger in his eyes. As sleep threatened to overwhelm her, she dug her claws into the knife wound on her hand, and the pain brought with it some measure of wakefulness. She pretended to be out as footsteps revealed that he was moving closer… closer… ever closer. When he was too close, Ailbasí plunged the knife into the closest approximation of where he was, and the blade struck deep into soft fleshiness until it hit bone. The man dropped like a sack of tubers or a puppet with its strings cut. Even so, he wasn’t dead yet. Using the bed to kick off of, she tackled the man to the ground hard, wrapping one hand over his mouth while to other clutched at his throat. Even with him being injured though, he was still the larger, more powerful one. His hands wrapped around her throat with a vice like grip, and he kept slamming her head against the wall, but whatever she had been dosed with reduced the pain to a dull roar. Her vision started to go grey with sparkling spots, and another kind of darkness began to set in. Desperation brought out her claws and tore a ragged series of wounds in the man’s neck, unleashing a torrent of arterial spray into her face. Wiping the blood out of her eyes and both gasping and sobbing as his fingers went slack on her throat, she felt the cold hardness of the floor, and the light from the half open door shown upon a drain. This wasn’t a bedroom, it was a place for slaughter. Forcing herself to her feet, she made her way to the door, supporting herself on the frame. Adrenaline had cleared the cotton from her ears, and now she could hear Berast on a comm call, talking about how if someone had waited until there were no witnesses it wouldn’t have been a big deal, and that she couldn’t stay on much longer because she had already heard her husband starting. When Berast ended the connection, Ailbasí let out a primal vocalization that she didn’t even know she was capable of and shoulder tackled Berast on pure adrenaline. The tackle connected with Berast’s upper torso and even through the drug induced haze Ailbasí felt wrenching pain in her shoulder as it dislocated. Berast rolled with the impact and turned the momentum into a throw, putting Ailbasí through the nearby glass caf table. She heard the glass crunch and grind into her as she rolled onto her side to try and get up, but a sudden pressure from above drove her back into the shards of glass and onto her dislocated shoulder. Ailbasí looked up to see Berast’s foot pinning her down as the detective drew her service weapon and trained it on her head. It wasn’t like the holovids. No witty one liners or villainous monologuing, just the cold and smooth pull of the trigger. Ailbasí wanted to fight back, but she could feel herself draining away through all of the cuts and bruises. The most she could muster was feebly clawing at the boot pinning her down. She felt the pain before she heard or saw the shot, a roaring inferno that moved across her body uncontrollably with what seemed like the force of a typhoon. Ailbasí closed her eyes. CRACK Then there was screaming, as Ailbasí realized that the sound wasn’t a weapon discharge, but of bone breaking. Berast’s forearm was oddly angled at ninety degrees, and broken bones protruded through her flesh at the curve. The blaster was nowhere to be seen. While Berast stumbled away in a state of shock, Ailbasí felt a second wind moving through her now that survival was once again a possibility. It felt like it took an eternity to clamber to her feet, but Berast was still clutching her broken arm and shouting unintelligibly when the cathar got there. Both shared a look of realization at the same time, and clumsily charged into the kitchen area. While Berast tore open a drawer to grab a knife with her good hand, Ailbasí yanked a frying pan off of the kitchen overhang and swung a wide arc into the back of Berast’s skull. The detective’s head lolled for a moment from the blow, and Ailbasí seized the opportunity to ram Berast’s good arm in the sink drain and turn on the garbage disposal. Ailbasí swung at the woman’s face while she screamed in agony, but she had never learned how to make a fist for punching, so the strike ended up hurting her as much as her opponent. If there had still been fight left in Berast, this would have been a critical opening, but between the concussion, shock, and blood loss, she just crumpled to the ground. Ailbasí went over to the open knife drawer and grabbed a steak knife before closing in on Berast. Straddling her, she let loose a raw cacophony of screams, shouts, and sobbing as she stabbed again and again, continuing well after any sign of movement or life had faded. Desperately she tried to weigh options in her mind about what to do next, but with the immediate threat gone her adrenaline drained away and darkness consumed her, and with it came unconsciousness.

“My apologies Master Sheog, being surrounded by royal guard with no armor or weapons to speak of was quite a fright, and as a result I spoke out of turn. I will remain here with the twins as I do not feel particularly Sithy yet, and do not want to embarrass you in front of others.” One of Sheog’s associates approached Ailbasí, doing that weird my mouth is open and I’m baring my teeth but I’m happy thing that humans do all the time. The Prince got a free pass because REASONS, DAMNIT! But most humans made Ailbasí think of pinkish mostly furless monkeys. This one had a yellow mane and similar facial features to the clone soldiers of the pre-Empire Palpatine era. Maybe a bootleg clone completed with DNA from another soldier? Regardless, this one was famous enough that she recognized him from the Holonet. “I don’t know know if I should remark on the dubious wisdom of accepting the word of a criminal or accept that if anyone would know the schedule of people exploding it would be you.” Ailbasí did her best to smile back to signal that her words were meant in jest, but just in case it was a bad smile she threw in a wink too. As long as she was using the right eye she should have all of her bases covered… “So… your masterfullnesses, is part of my training going to be living as a hobo on the streets of Onderon, or can I get a room? My dad gave me an emergency credit chit, so I can afford at least a few nights, I never really asked him how much the wiggle room the account had.”

The awkward moment was disturbed by… sensations, coming from her connection with the strange hutt. The link that had been established earlier had never really been broken, and through it she felt that gaunt animal trying to gnaw its leg off to escape a trap that wasn’t there, a rabid look in its eyes. She let out a deep sigh,even though she wasn’t handling it… well, this was the epitome of a dream come true for her, to meet the handsome prince and have him flirt back was sense of reality shatteringly good, but now she had a choice. Either she could stay here to steal a few more moments of this dream and have everything come crashing down outside of her control, or she could try to salvage things at the cost of losing this moment. Her choice left a little more of the cub she was behind, and helped her speak with a greater measure of confidence to the Prince, as an adult. “There is an urgent matter to which I must attend, but heed my warning well, the only people that will fight for the good of your people are your people, and in that regard you will need weapons and training to survive. It seems Onderon has once again found itself in interesting times on the galactic stage, and more than anything I want to see you survive them. I wish I could stay, but you would not believe my interest in you genuine if I did. In truth, you may find yourself unable to forgive me for the unwitting part I had to play, and that thought rends my heart into pieces. If you do find it within you to see me as separate from the actions of others, here’s my comm info.” Ailbasí turned to leave as the prince voiced his objections to her departure, and that last gasp of temptation clawed at her mind to stay, but she found to the strength to leave. As she left, tears meandered down her cheeks for the loss of that moment, and for the loss of that part of the girl she used to be, but what remained was wiser and more driven. The confidence in her stride increased and the length of her gait sped her forward as she moved on to deal with the issue at hand. She knew a charnel house of slaughter awaited her, but part of her work with the university had entailed unearthing mass graves to identify remains. What would come would not phase her. Moreso she felt disappointed. Everything from her initial detention to the bloodless conquest of Onderon had spoken of a Sith order far different from the one spoken of in textbooks and holovids, and yet now she wondered if that was a facade, a sham designed to lure her in past the point of no return. Only time would offer any semblance of true answers. Moving through the palace in a driven manner and flanked by her protectors, she at last reached the conference room where she could feel the pull of her master most keenly. She activated her med-inhaler, far behind schedule and with the painful awareness that tonight would be grueling, and opened the door to the blood soaked chamber. “It’s a good thing I was in the throne room, I didn’t bring a raincoat and it would have taken days to get this mess out of my fur. I came to check in to see if there were new developments since I could feel through our bond that you had started to kill everybody. Do I need to go fetch my black eyeliner and black leather villainess getup?”

Silence fell over the throne room as Ailbasí’s brain tried to process the events that were currently happening and failed horribly. What felt like weeks passed as she tried to figure out if she was having a nightmare or had in fact died and this was some kind of sexy heaven wish fulfillment scenario. A quick glance confirmed that she was in fact wearing clothes, so this wasn’t a dream about awkward embarrassment, so maybe instead of dying from blushing she’d just be tragically crippled for the rest of her life. “Maybe the Sith aren’t always what people say they are. I mean they put up with me for some time without killing me, and I’m both awkward and unfashionable.” *Elsewhere, a vignette of scenes plays out across Onderon, as the prince’s plans to create a more formidable defense force play out in a number of ways. Mercenaries from a short list of names are contacted with job offers to modernize and oversee the armament of Onderon’s forces, and a bounty is put out for any cult of Morthos members involved in Faust’s terrorist actions in the system. At an Onderonian jail, a man caged by addiction is given a second chance to find freedom from both of his prisons in a new military program, all he has to do is sign on the dotted line. Outside of the walls of Iziz, Morthos cult deserters try to make off with goods looted in the pandemonium of the Sith occupation. Little do they know that their efforts have not escaped the notice of an unlikely intervener.

“As you wish corporal, I understand that everyone must be on their last nerves with everything going on, and that the safety of your monarchy is forefront in your mind with men like Faust about. I don’t mind waiting, I’m just here to discuss some archaeological sites that the Sith are interested in documenting. Truthfully, I think they just wanted me out of the way. My experience with fighting pretty much consists of closing my eyes and flailing wildly.” Ailbasí pantomimed out the gesture as she said it, nervously hoping that jokes would lighten the tension. In truth she had no idea why Sheog would send her, she had no advantageous trait for this negotiation other than knowing court protocol and some amount of Onderonian history. Time passed slowly and standing became uncomfortable. Looking around the room, Ailbasí could see nowhere to sit, other than the thrones meant for the monarchy, and as out of sorts as she was, she wasn’t that out of sorts. “Does anyone mind if I sit on the floor? I’m going to sit on the floor.” Ailbasí gracefully plopped onto the ground, in the way that only cats can combine those two words and continued to wait. However, with nothing to occupy her mind, and Sheog’s own hunger gnawing at the back of her mind, the silence was yet again broken, this time by Ailbasí’s much neglected stomach. One could be forgiven for thinking that such a small person like the albino Cathar would have stomach whispers instead of growls, or at least something more dainty and refined, dignified even. But much to Ailbasí’s horror this was not the case. At last Ailbasí muttered an apology to any who would listen. “I’m terribly sorry, I’m a postgrad student from Charmath University, they don’t really feed us.” After a particularly loud and obnoxious growl, a helmeted soldier walked over to a crate and pulled out a colorful plastic meal box of Nerf Noms, a well known food product that packaged nerf milk and jerky together. This one was different, however, and in the shape of a drexl head. “They’re doing a promotional crossover with the Justice Riders of Iziz, and part of it was having a limited number of packages signed by Prince Gypht, but I’m sure that they can find a replacement for this one.” Another guard chimed in “I don’t even know why they would, other than I guess he’s a beast rider.” “Afoolly hiff ta infirashon fo ta Golt Drayan Noight in ta serwes” The guards looked quizzically at each other. “Is this a Sith thing, is she casting a spell?” asked the second guard in a slight panic. Ailbasí finished inhaling her jerky before she spoke again. “Actually he’s the inspiration for the Gold Dragon Knight in the series. The creator has a doctorate in Onderonian culture studies, so it’s something I read after I hit mental rock bottom from over studying. It’s a lot more accurate than most “inspired by” holo-novels so as an academic it doesn’t make me want to cry aggressively into my pillow. Plus the Gold Dragon Knight is super hot, I have a poster of him in my apartment.” A look of awkward confusion was shared by the guards, causing Ailbasí to raise an eyebrow. “What, a girl can’t dream? Besides, I’m sure he’s too busy riding dragons and having perfect hair to notice some starstruck college girl. And have you seen those abs? Daaaaammmmnnn.” Ailbasí pointed to one of the female guards, ”She knows what I’m talking about.” Causing the guard to blush and cover her face poorly. “Really? Overreacting much?”

As Ailbasí felt Sheog whisper into her mind, a disquieting sense of unease creeped into her thoughts. The gluttonous sorcerer wasn’t just drawing upon his own power, he was feeding on the people like a parasite. A bloated tick, nestled over Iziz and chewing greedily on its populace. Is this what drove the Sith to evil, the constant need to feed on others to power their abilities? Timidly, like a kitten, Ailbasí felt out Sheog’s own presence, and felt a gaping lack there. No fear, no suffering, no real justifiable form of hatred, just the hunger for power, and for a moment the corpulent being appeared to her as a gaunt and winter starved beast, numb save for what it could take from others. It was the total opposite of what the hutt presented in reality. How could such a deprived soul have any sense of self or purpose outside of its next meal? It’s okay to be scared or angry, or to accept how something has wounded you. It’s in those moments that a darker shade of courage can be found, something all your own forged by your life’s trials. It is unique to you and nobody will ever be able to take it away from you unless you try to replace it with someone else’s fear, or hate, or pain. Be true to yourself, or you will only ever achieve the goals of others. Remember who you are, and hold onto it tightly, because the easiest thing to lose out there is yourself. Character over power, Perseverance over fitting in. You’re my daughter and I wouldn’t trade who you are for anyone in the galaxy. The words of Ailbasí’s father echoed in her mind. They had been said over another matter, but were equally apt for the situation at hand. “No, I think I’ll find my own way.” Ailbasí flinched as she almost certainly expected Sheog to eat her, like some kind of fairytale monster, but instead a strange thing happened. A hearty laugh escaped Sheog’s lips, and she could feel his pride in her finding her own way. Armed with further insight into who she was, Sheog dispatched her to Iziz to attempt an alternate course of action. Along with her came a handful of Sheog’s men as an honor guard, Lysander as her personal protector, some relevant historical scrolls, and documents identifying her as a Sith envoy to the monarchy. In the back of her mind, Sheog’s watchful gaze lingered through the spider’s web of the Force. The first thing that Ailbasí noticed upon meeting Lysander face to face was his armor, a specter from a bygone time. She had seen it before in person, and knew what it meant. She instantly felt safer, and a plan began to form as the ship headed to its destination. While the Galactic Alliance did what galactic governments do and continued to make a mess of the situation, Ailbasí would speak to the local authorities in an attempt to resolve the matter without bloodshed. Ailbasí had heard the Sith offering safe passage for the Coresec agents and Jedi to depart the planet, and they had ignored it over a matter of pride. Perhaps under different circumstances the meeting would have been more difficult to arrange, but with Coresec completely sidelining the monarchy, they must have been desperate to enact some measure of control over the situation, to be the authority they were meant to be. On the shuttle ride down, Ailbasí had briefed her honor guard on court procedure. She had applied for research permits on Onderon a few months ago, and had studied up on the issue in case she had to address the court in an official capacity. At the time, she had hoped to do a study on the Onderonian beast riders. The group was quickly rushed into the throne room for an audience with King Jarvok. Ailbasí curtsied smartly before addressing the monarch. “Your grace, I am Ailbasí Zirtani, speaking on behalf of the Sith in the hope that an agreement can be reached through which all may prosper.”

After the assault group had escorted Ailbasí to Sheog’s ship (At which point she may or may not have exclaimed “Carry me daddy!” when she was physically lifted onto the ramp by a confused Sith guard). The interim between departure and arrival was filled with an ecstatic dervish of reading and browsing the Sith archives. While there certainly were records of reavers and sadists, having access to the full archives painted a fuller picture of a proud race of conquerors, united by an ancient system of beliefs, and oddly accepting of foreigners who showed talents in their mystical bailiwick. A ruthless meritocracy, but a meritocracy nonetheless. For someone who had already found the bureaucracy of academia tiresome, such simple honesty had its appeal. A brief fantasy of Ailbasí standing atop a mound of tenured jerk professors and morons who knew how to work the system to hide their own severe failings, her own claws and teeth bared and bloodied frolicked through her head. It was followed by the kind of thought that always led to disappointment, but felt good to dream about anyway. Like thinking that the hot guy was looking at you and not the frozen confectionary stand you were next to, or hoping to hear your name at a prize drawing. This was a fragile flight of fancy that felt like it would shatter if Ailbasí spoke it out loud. What if they were letting her have access to the archives because she was one of these star touched individuals? How odd it must have seemed for slaves and rulers alike to be approached by these demigods, seemingly at random, and told that a hidden greatness resided within themselves. Ailbasí kept this quiet fantasy to herself, if she was wrong the Sith might take offense to her desire to be like one of them and rebuke her for the insult. After all, she was not what you would call extraordinary. Maybe a fast learner and a lover of cultures and languages, but certainly not a great warrior or sorceress. She didn’t own anywhere near enough black leather clothing items for such occupations. Lost in thought, she heard or felt Sheog speak to her, she wasn’t sure which, saying to reach out with her mind and join his, unleashing an internal squeeing that may have unleashed a shockwave that could be felt six star systems away. It was cut short by feeling Sheog’s presence. The force of it made Ailbasí involuntarily take a step back, as a wet wave of heat and air hit her like a cresting ocean wave and made her stumble. The room seemed different, like being in a lucid dream, and small flashing objects seemed to float through the air like lightning bugs, but their paths were too controlled to be insects. After a moment of contemplation, Ailbasí realized that these were the fighters and ships of the Sith fleet, and for a moment there was another group that seemed arrayed to challenge the SIth. In Sheog’s mind two individuals were illuminated amongst the teeming masses, which oddly had a large number of Cathar among them. Ailbasí pressed in closer like a formless phantom, driven by curiosity, and found two presences, like silhouettes in colored light. One shown brightly and seemed to be the leader, the other felt like a young female, a light blue that was bright but unfocused. Ailbasí’s phantom self reached out to touch the girl, and her hand was inches away when the sound of her datapad receiving a priority message brought her crashing back to reality. Ailbasí was surprised by the timeliness of the message, but with Sheog’s approval, she accepted the offer of service. When she returned to the mental communion, the Jedi ships were gone, along with their peculiar passengers.

When the hutt next spoke, his words were an intricate etymological tapestry that shifted languages and dialects to find the precise words to best say what he was saying, or more specifically, what Ailbasí would have thought would be the best words out of the assortment of languages she had collected over the years. It reminded her of vocabulary games with her parents, they had always said that words were part of how we remembered our lives, and therefore the more words you knew, the more nuance your life would have. A brief memory from childhood of sharing words from different languages like collections of polished stones flitted through her mind. The interaction was certainly peculiar though, having been told by colleagues in the past to keep at least a planet’s distance between herself and the enigmatic Sith. These esoteric lords of darkness were notorious for their isolationist tendencies, especially regarding matters of their past. Perhaps this individual, who seemingly at random had taken such an interest in her plight, had been the one to approve the permits to begin with. Maybe he wanted an unbiased opinion on something, or thought that inviting some uninitiated academic to examine some piece of lore would be an entertaining novelty. Either way, it seemed like an honest answer was best, especially since this Sith was potentially able to read her thoughts. “Everything the galaxy knows about the Sith comes from times after the first great war, which culturally redefined your people. Everyone knows where you are now, but where did you come from? What were the original beliefs of the Sith and what was the breaking point between the orders? In essence what I seek is…” Ailbasí struggled to find a word that truly encapsulated what she was looking for. There was one word, part of a language her father had kept between the two of them as sort of a father daughter thing. If nothing else, it was the most honest answer she could give. “Saarai.”

When the prison block door opened with a sudden thwishing sound, a pair of black and red armored guards smartly marched into sight, displaying the precision of fanatics. In an odd way, this actually helped, as the source of Ailbasí’s panic had been dispelled, and replaced with an entirely new thing to be terrified about, but the about face was so jarring it left her temporarily numb. Words that she knew were being spoken, but sounded alien to her ears as she struggled to cope with everything that was happening. As they opened the cell door she walked between them in a dazed state of non comprehension through the cool, dry halls. As they moved through the complex, the air changed dramatically, or Ailbasí’s nerves went into overdrive, and heat and wetness seemed to make the air feel thick, like being in a primordial swamp. The hall opened up to a feasting area with tables set to serve Sith being tended by robed servants. An ominous throne loomed over the room, and at first that’s where Ailbasí thought that she was being taken, but as they got closer, their course changed to bring her in front of a large dais, upon which loomed a massive hutt, made even more imposing with his black battle armor. Ailbasí didn’t even know that was a thing Hutts did. The guards placed her on her knees in a position of supplication before the being that clearly had come from Ailbasí’s nightmares because armored battle slugs with powers over death and suffering were not things reality allowed for. With the knowledge that the next for moments might define the rest of her possibly very short life, Ailbasí fell back on what she knew intrinsically, and that was the stories in her father’s library. Speaking in delicately intoned Huttese, she addressed the figure before her. “Your Eminence, I hope that we can resolve this matter to the profit of us both.”

Was there something wrong with the permit? For what seemed like the hundredth time, Ailbasí poured over the display of her datapad trying to figure out what went wrong. She had filed through the proper channels at uni, and all of the veri-sigs were showing up complete and authentic. She examined the datapad on a spartan cot in a tight but well lit cell. The place was so clean that it evoked the sterile nature of a doctor’s office, or a newly built hab block before the masses were let in to mark and stain it with their collective essence. Was it Nasovicci playing some kind of sick practical joke? The thought of that scumbag strolling in with some of his frat minions, his nasally laugh escaping through his smugly crooked smile was enough for Ailbasí to feel her tiny fists tightening up into balls. The rodent faced bottom feeder had been throwing an adult tantrum for weeks because Ailbasí had refused his so called generous offer to be one of his assistants. Everyone knew what Nasovicci wanted “assistance” with, but he was tenured and published, so nothing was ever done about it. He couldn’t just keep this up for ever, acting like he could take whatever he… A very cold and intimate fear slithered up Ailbasí’s spine, with legs of ice and nausea. While the truth was never a certain mark with the Sith, it was said that their prisons were where the more sadistic among them practiced their art, tormenting and cutting on their victims for dark rituals or idle pleasure. This place was clean, well lit, and while sparse it wasn’t inhumane. Nearby, mournful musical notes drifted from another cell like in the holovids, almost like a wink at the absurdity of this being a Sith gulag. Sith were a highly chaotic society and there was no way in retrospect to know whether the men that had imprisoned her were actually Sith officials or just imposters. Regardless, Ailbasí’s mind frantically referenced whatever images she could remember of Sith guards or officials, but in her state of panic the mental images seemed blurred and distorted. Reflexively, sharpened claws extended from Ailbasí’s fingers and toes, but the reality of the situation was washing over her like gallons of nearly frozen and brackish sea water, robbing her lungs of air as her body rebelled with short, desperate gasps and a panicked staccato of heartbeats. If they come in here I won’t be able to stop them from taking what they want. Tears streaming down her face, Ailbasí curled up in a tight ball on the cot hugging herself, wishing to anything that was listening that she could make herself so small that she could vanish. Admin edit: Testing something

DARTH NYRYS'S CHARACTER SHEET Identity Real Name: Ailbasí Zirtani A.K.A: Darth Nyrys, The Dark Lord Homeworld: Cathar, raised on a number of planets Species: Sith Pureblood through ritual (Was a body hopper in the past, using both human and Cathar bodies.) Physical Description Age: 21 Height: 5'4 Weight: Dancer's frame Skin: Rusty dark red Hair: Black Eyes: Red Sex: Female Equipment Clothing: A hybridization of Sith robes and casual outfits, with heavy influences of Sith martial chic. Sure she still goes all out for those Sith gatherings where everyone is all dressed up and striking a pose, but day to day it's often just a cloak over a cute top and practical pants and boots. She has clothes that are both more provocative and less practical, but who really has time for date night these days? Armor: None currently, old armor was destroyed. Weapon: Vigilant line of personal defense items (Smartspray chemical incapacitator, sonic “Screamer” with paired personal sonic dampeners, and a kinetic redirector disguised as hand jewelry), smithing hammer, Brathiad Gwynt, her "Slipblade" is a two handed thrusting sword with forty inch cursed blade that causes severe cellular necrosis upon wounding. Dissuader KD-30 slugthrower. Common Inventory: Datapad, commlink, books, multitool, credits, backup analog inhaler, data stylus, compact Faction Information Force User Alignment: Chaotic Sassy Current Faction Affiliation: Sith Current Faction Rank: Dark Lord Path: Warrior History: Force Side: Dark Trained by: Sheog and self training. Trained who: Known Skills: Creating Force bonds, soul eating, smithing, competent smithing alchemy, tk, pain resistance, Force sight, sword fighting, thermodynamic manipulation, Force enhanced movement Background: Ailbasi was raised in comfort by loving parents, but was somewhat sheltered due to her mother being bedridden by a chronic illness. Both parents imparted upon her a love of learning and knowledge, with her father reading to both of them, especially on days that her mother had more intense bouts of pain. In essence, pain and isolation were her constant companions growing up, but Ailbasi always took them as just another part of life and sought refuge in the library. Ailbasi has attained encyclopedic knowledge on a number of cultures, languages, matters of scholarly interest, and pedantic topics, thanks to an abundance of free time, limitless access to books, and an eidetic memory. If she hears someone make a mistaken claim, or insufficiently explain something, she has a habit of interjecting, but more out of the sentiment that if she makes a mistake she wants to know, rather than trying to express intellectual superiority. The same illness that ravages Ailbasi’s mother afflicts her as well, albeit at a much earlier stage and with a slower rate of progression. Ailbasi takes preventative medicine with aerosol inhalers for it, and larger doses can leave her physically weakened for long stretches of time, so she tries to plan around her medication regimen. It has become apparent recently that eating souls removes the need for her to take her medicine. As a very precocious child, Ailbasi was able to attend university early, and completed her first educational program when most students were completing their first year. Currently she is deciding whether to continue her education in the direction of academic or field work. Ship Registration Name: Best Behavior Class: Yacht Model: Starwind class yacht Manufacturer: Kuat Drive Yards Length: 50 Meters Armaments: Two quad laser cannons Armor: Standard Anti-Personnel Defenses: None as of yet, it’s a civilian vessel. Appearance: Stock model Modifications:

Ishvara System: Ishvara system Orbital Position: Second of four Moons: Three, Yoddha, Raaja, and Daana Grid Coordinates: I 8 Physical Information Class: Terrestrial Atmosphere: Type 1 Breathable Oxygen Mix Primary Terrain: Mountainous river valleys Points of Interest: Three Paths of Divinity Temple: While sacrificial temples are found throughout the inhabited zones of the planet, the Three Paths temple is the largest and most famous, with the most important rituals to honor and sustain the gods taking place on its steps. Like most Sith influenced architecture, the temple is pyramidal in shape, and encircled by massive obelisks. Ruins of the False Heaven: A number of crashed alien ships from the failed attempts of a largely unknown species to become an interstellar empire. Their technology is unfamiliar but in line with an early intersystem traveling culture. The locals consider the shipwrecks to be forbidden ground. Krath facilities and hidden caches: A number of Sith sorcerers have used the planet to store their work, materials, and projects, and the landscape is peppered with hidden and heavily secured sites for those that know where and how to look. Societal Information Indigenous Species: Humans Immigrated Species: Unknown alien species(extinct) Primary Language(s): Ishvaran, Sith Faction Affiliation: Sith Ishvara is a pre-spaceflight world that is used by the Sith as a means to harvest souls, although with the Sith Empire moving away from soul powered war machines, it is now more a source of newly minted jade coinage used by the Sith as a more prestigious form of currency and valuable resource for Krath sorcery. The Sith "liberated" the world from an alien invasion force that claimed to be gods, and in turn also claimed to be gods. They claimed that they were fighting a grand celestial war against demonic forces, and that they needed the aid of powerful mortal souls to fight alongside them. As far as the Ishvarans know, the people that they sacrifice are joining the warhosts of the divinities to save the galaxy from evil, and being chosen as a sacrifice or choosing to sacrifice oneself is considered a great honor. There are three paths to becoming worthy of joining the gods and goddesses in the great war, the path of the warrior, the path of the king, and the path of mage, each corresponding with one of Ishvara's three moons.