Stephen

Stephen pushed the lever forward when the counter hit 0:00, and The Tokonga reverted from hyperspace to real space. Carida sat in front of him; a mottled blue and green planet. A large debris cloud orbited the planet which his computer identified as the remains of an old Clone Wars space station called Valor. After coordinating his approach vector to the planet, Stephen decided to head straight to Königreich des Teufels. Upon arriving at what was left of the Sith Temple, his hopes sank. “It’s destroyed, Mate. What in the blazes happened here?” The droid replied with a mournful warble. “Okay,” Stephen said thinking, “The Sith Temple is destroyed. Doesn’t mean this Mandar fella was here when it was attacked, right?” He stroked his beard in thought. “We need more information. I need to know what happened here. Who attacked the place?” Stephen plotted a course for the largest city on Carida. Big cities had big spaceports. Big spaceports meant bars. Bars meant information flow. He paid for a berthing for the ship, told Mate to keep an eye on things, and headed to the nearest bar. It took a couple of hours before he overheard “…des Teufels…”. He casually walked back up the bar near the table that held the speaker, ordered a local ale, and sipped it slowly. Two squat aliens, a species he was unfamiliar with, were talking with each other. “I’m telling you, Klatu, the old temple has to have some prime salvage. Maybe even lightsabers or kyber crystals.” “Yeah, but the Imperial Remnant patrols around the site don’t make it worth the getting killed, Blorak. They are the ones who destroyed the temple, it’s their scavenge rights. I’m not taking them on for the off chance of some scrap.” Blorak’s voice raised a little, “’Scrap’? You’re calling kyber crystals and lightsabers, and gods-know-what-else ‘scrap’?” Klatu looked around nervously, “Stow it, Klatu. Ya want the whole planet to hear us?” It was then that he noticed Stephen at the bar. Like an idiot he had turned his head and was watching them from his peripheral vision. He had been made. No choice but to put his cards on the table now. “I’m sorry,” he said nonchalantly as he walked to the table, “Did you say the Remnant destroyed the temple?” Klatu and Blorak stood up from the table. They were no taller than a meter at most. Klatu replied, “Not any of our business, good sir, not any of our business.” Blorak bumped Stephen’s leg as he passed and muttered, “Not polite to eavesdrop, ya daft human.” As he watched them leave, he took their lack of response as an affirmative. So the Imperial Remnant destroyed the temple. And recently. Hmm… He walked back to the bartender, slipped the man a 50 credit chip, and asked, “Were there any Sith survivors? Is the Remnant holding them? If so, where?”

Stephen stroked his beard in thought. When he looked up at Nugget with a determined gaze, he finally said, “To Cardia first—might as well take on the easier target before tackling the harder. I appreciate the ship, but I’m sure you’ll understand if I change the name.” He chuckled, downed the last of his drink, nodded to the Hutt, and walked off to find his droid. * * * * * He found Mate in standby mode in the hanger in which the Fortune and Glory was berthed. As he had expected, it was gone. Lugner did not even stay to say goodbye. Guess he couldn’t blame him. Nugget was true to his word. In the space that once housed the luxury yacht, a slightly-abused, black and gold-trimmed VCX-100 light freighter stood being refueled. Stephen walked up and touched what appeared to be a claw mark on the exterior of the ship near the entrance ramp. “So you’re The Aberrant Folly, eh?” he said to the ship. “I’m gonna have to come up with a new name for you.” He walked around inspecting the ship from all angles. The way the light seemed to warp around the black surface… the way the gold accents sparkled… “I will call you… The Tokonga.” He called to the droid, “Mate, plug in, and change the transponder to The Tokonga.” The droid beeped an affirmative, and began rolling toward the ship. “Oh, and check for any tracking devices or programs.” The droid beeped again, then turned away a second time. “Nevermind—just purge the entire system. I want a clean ship.” The droids beep seemed annoyed this time, and Stephen thought he heard the droid warbling to itself on the way to the ship. This caused the human to chuckle and shake his head at the moody little droid. * * * * * In orbit around Korriban, and seated at the helm, Stephen once again pulled up an informative holo on Carida. A jungle planet mainly occupied by the Imperial Remnant. Hmm, he thought to himself, This Sith Acolyte named Mandar must be training at Königreich des Teufels. I guess I’ll start there. “Are you locked in back there, Mate?” Stephen asked the droid. The M8-F7 droid replied with an excited-sounding whistle. “Five million credits, here we come!” Stephen said as he pulled lever, and the ship shot into Hyperspace toward Carida.

Lugner’s face paled as Stephen’s turned into a shocked expression. Stephen whistled, “Five million?!” Lugner glanced nervously at Stephen then to Nugget, “I-I-I’m not a bounty hunter. I just sell the i-i-information!” He looked downright scared now, “They would kill me! I’m no fighter, much less a Force-user.” Stephen put his arm around his fellow’s shoulders, and smiled warmly to the Hutt. “Please allow us to confer in private for a moment.” At the Hutt’s dismissive wave, Stephen practically had to carry the stunned Lugner to a corner. “Lugner, what’s your problem? We’re talking about five million credits. Millions!” Lugner looked at Stephen as if he were insane, “Stephen, it’s suicide, and that devious Hutt knows it. No way we could bring her in alive… or dead! Hell, we couldn’t even bring in the Sith for the hundred-thousand.” Stephen began to protest, “Oh, come on—“ “No!” Lugner said. “I’m taking the thirty-thousand. I’ll be generous, and give you ten-thousand of it if you leave with me now. I’m saving your life. Please.” Stephen had never had ten-thousand credits in his life. But the potential for five-million credits was just too good to pass up. “I can’t pass on this offer, Lugner. Please reconsider.” Lugner’s head dropped, and he looked back up at Stephen with sadness in his eyes. “No, I can’t. I’d wish you good luck, but there’s no point—you’ll be dead before a standard week goes by.” He clapped Stephen’s shoulders with his hands, “Goodbye, my friend.” Lugner then walked over to the Hutt, pulled three ten-thousand chits over to him, and held them up between himself and the Hutt. “Thirty-thousand for the info as agreed.” He turned, and began walking back to leave, sparing only one last nod to his former partner. Stephen watched him depart, then turned back to a smiling Hutt. “I’m in. But unless I’m mistaken, he is taking the Fortune & Glory. I’ll need an advance to purchase a ship—a fast ship.”

Stephen watched the holo. She was very nice on the eyes. Those piercing green eyes, the curves of her body… He could see why this Sith would fall for her. Lugner’s chuckle broke his concentration on the vid. “Indeed. I saw it live from my holo droid feed. For being such a devout Jedi, she sure does have a… shall we say… fierce side to her. Both on the battlefield… and off.” Stephen didn’t particularly care for the looks the Hutt was giving them. Lugner may not notice the doubt on the Hutt’s face, but Stephen knew Hutts well. He decided to remain silent for the time being. This was Lugner’s information—it was his to sell. Lugner noticed the lack of reply to his comment. “If you don’t believe me—or the holovid—have this Mandar brought in and… questioned. I’m sure he will corroborate my claim…” With an evil grin he added, “…eventually.” Stephen finished his Ruby Bliel, and cleared his throat. When Lugner glanced at him, he subtly inclined his head towards the Hutt, and raised his eyebrows. Lugner got the hint. “So, was this worth the credits or not?” He asked the Hutt. “No offense meant, but I’m not exactly comfortable around Force users.”

Stephen looked at Nugget, and in Hutteese said, “H'chu apenkee, pateesa. [Hello, friend.]” He continued in basic, “Should've guessed you'd be the contact.” He chuckled, “Bet you get a lot of free intel on people with this façade.” Lugner looked at the Hutt as well, “Guess you've reviewed our scans. Don't hold my family history against me. My grandfather was only the Jedi's brother. He didn't test high enough to be a Jedi. I swear!” The Hutt remained silent, so Lugner continued, “A-anyway. The information we have is of a secret love affair involving a Jedi... and a Sith Acolyte. The Jedi’s name was Kyrie, leader of the Imperial Knights. The Sith’s name was Mandar from the Caridan Temple. He was human, not Caridan. I have holo evidence of them meeting in Level 1313 on Coruscant.” He passed a datacard over to the Hutt. “I’m sure this information will be worth some dispensation.” Stephen sipped his Ruby Bliel, and waited to see if this entire trip was worth it.

Stephen had no idea what these "midichlorians" were, but he had a link to possible career opportunities. He flagged it with a follow up for later. He sat at the bar, looked over the menu, and noticed the large quantity of Hutt delicacies. At least he was fmiliar enough with Hutt food to know which was inedible for human consumption. He ordered something that was very basic, with a local rum to drink while they waited for this "right hand". He looked over to Lugner, to see him looking over his scan's readout with a frown. "You okay?" Stephen asked. Lugner looked up distractedly, "Huh? Oh. No--I mean, yeah. Just history I'd rather not have to remember. I don't want to talk about it." "Yeah, okay," Stephen said with a sip of his drink. "Any idea what midichlorians are?" "Heh, did you live under a rock?" Lugner replied. "Oh, well, I guess you sort of did. They are supposedly what makes one Force-sensetive. Why?" "Er--no reason," Stephen said offhandedly. "Just saw the term on the readout. I had never seem it before. When I have more time, I'm going to look into my family history. It was lengthy." Lugner gave a puzzled expression, "Really? For a slave? Mine was rather small. A paragraph or two at most." Stephen shrugged, and finished off his drink. Lugner glanced around, "Where is this contact. I'm itching to get off this planet already."

This was all new to Stephen, but he did not want to be killed, so he stepped forward and offered his hand. Lugner, on the other hand, hung back, smiling warmly at the Twi'lek. "A DNA scan seems a little overkill," he chuckled. "I am only here to sell my infromation, not to... breed." "I think he's scared of a little blood," he said with a wink to the Twi'lek female. Lugner hesitantly stepped forward, and offered his own hand for a scan. "It's not the blood I'm worried about..."

Lugner keyed the comm again, "Understood. Following escort to Platform Delta-952." He set the set the ship follow the strikecraft at a comfortable 200m and headed toward the landing platform. "Who is 'The Lord of the Krath'?" Stephen asked. "No idea," Lugner replied, "but I hope he pays well." As they got closer to the planet, Stephen became quieter and began staring out of the viewport at the planet itself. "Scared?" Lugner asked him. "No," Stephen replied shaking his head and blinking, "but I can feel... something. Almost like--" Stephen chuckled. "This will sound stupid. Almost as if the planet itself was calling out to me." Lugner raised a bushy eyebrow, "This was your first flight out of atmosphere. Better hope you don't have Bloodburn. Sounds like a fever dream." Stephen shook his head. "No, not a fever dream. It almost feels like I could hear a voice if I could just concentrate more. It's hard to explain." Lugner took over manual control again as they neared the platform. "Well, get yourself together. We're about to land." The ship touched down on the platform. They opened the hatch and were greeted by their "welcoming" party. Lugner smiled warmly, raised his hand in the universal gesture of greeting and said, "We're here with information for the Lord of the Krath..."

Stephen pushed the lever back to bring them out of hyperspace. A rust-colored planet with 7 moons zooms in to fill their viewport. A sizable fleet of starships encircles the planet. "Quick," Stephen said to Lugner, "Say something before we get blasted to pieces!" Lugner keyed the comm for a channel-wide broadcast, "This is Lugner Verlierer, an information broker in the Fortune and Glory. I have some information the Sith Lords might want to know." For good measure he added, "It's regarding a Jedi." He did not get an immediate reply, so he added, "Do we have permission to land?"

Without hesitating, Haina drew his blaster and pointed it directly at Stephen. “Are you crazy?! Korriban?! The Sith are the reason my ship was banged up to begin with—I ran into a Sith patrol who shot me up when I refused to let them board. I barely escaped, and now you want me to go to their homeworld?” “Look—,” Lugner began. “No!” Haina shouted. “No. You don’t get to talk. Both of you shut up!” He began muttering to himself in Sullustan, keeping his blaster pointed at Stephen. Stephen wished he could get his blaster, but with the Sullustan pointing his own pistol at him, that wasn’t a good idea. If only he could distract him. He got Lugner’s attention with his eyes, and barely nodded towards the Sullustan as if to say “Distract him so I can attack”. He knew Lugner got his meaning when he widened his eyes and shook his head. Stephen closed his eyes and willed the Sullustan to look away. Look behind you, he thought. There’s a threat behind you. Look away. This was getting him nowhere, and he became angry with the whole situation. LOOK BEHIND YOU, YOU BASTARD! he screamed mentally. He heard an audible gasp from Lugner, and opened his eyes to see Haina looking away. He quickly drew his well-maintained BlasTech DC-17 and pointed it at Haina. He must have heard the sound, because he turned back to the pair saying, “Hey—what the hell was that?” when Stephen pulled the trigger. His aim was true, and a glowing hole appeared in the Sullustan’s chest. Haina Maana crumpled to the deck and was no more. Lugner whistled, “Nice shot. But I’m with him—what the hell was that?” “Was what?” Stephen asked. “That weird, blob-like shape behind him in the corridor. I swear it just appeared then disappeared.” “I have no idea what you’re talking about. I didn’t see anything.” “Probably because you had your eyes closed, you coward,” he said jokingly. “It disappeared as you opened your eyes.” “Coward? Pretty sure I’m the one who pulled the trigger.” Stephen said with a wink. “So—what do we do with him?” “Dump him,” Lugner said. “We don’t need to be carting around a corpse.” They moved the body to the airlock. Lugner checked his pockets for any credits, key cards, or datapads, and then closed the hatch. He looked up to Stephen. “Know how to pilot a ship?” “Sort of,” Stephen replied. “I’m assuming you don’t?” “Sort of,” Lugner replied with a chuckle. “Between the two of us, I’m sure we can get to Korriban.” The two made for the cockpit, plotted a course to Korriban, and sent the Fortune and Glory into hyperspace.

Stephen glanced around to make sure no one had overheard the name. He dropped his voice as low as possible, “Korriban?! Why in the hell would you want to go there?! Who are you?!” The cerean leaned back in his chair. “My name is Lugner. I’m a freelance spy. I hear information I think someone would want to know, I try to get it to them… for a price.” “What in blazes would you know that you would think it worth going to Kor—er—to that planet?” “Why would I tell a stranger that? I don’t know you, pal.” “Look, ‘pal’, you came to me. If you don’t want my help, then fine.” Stephen started to get up, but was halted by the cerean’s hand on his arm. “Wait, wait, wait,” Lugner sighed. “This is time sensitive. They need to know. I have holographic proof of a secret tryst between…,” he lowers his voice to the point where Stephen had to strain to hear, “…a Sith Acolyte and a Jedi.” Stephen’s eyes widened in shock as he sat back. “That’s not true. That’s impossible.” “It’s not impossible. It’s improbable… and totally profitable to the right people. Namely, us… partner.” “Whoa,” Stephen replied, “We went from ‘stranger’ to ‘partner’ pretty quickly there, didn’t we?” “Look, I need the help, and I’m sure you could use the credits, right?” “Well, yeah, but I have a farm and a life here. I can’t just up and leave.” “I can guarantee you, this information would get us enough credits to fuel your farm for a standard year—if not more!” Stephen sat in silent thought for a couple of minutes. His farm was slowly failing. He had nothing else holding him here. What could it hurt? He got up, went up to Burnett, and asked about a pilot that was desperate for some work. He got a name, thanked the bartender, and walked back to table. “C’mon,” he said to Lugner, “I got us a lead.” * * * * They enter Hanger 28 to find an old SoroSuub 3000 space yacht in sitting in the hanger. A pasty-skinned Sullustan climbed out from under the ship, wiped his hands on his pants, and said in accented Basic, “Um… can I help you?” Looking hesitantly at the ship, Stephen said, “Maybe. Burnett said you were looking for some passengers. My name is Stephen, and this is Lugner.” He reached out his somewhat greasy hand, “Haina Maana.” He shook both of their hands, and then waved his hand at the ship. “This is the Fortune and Glory. Perhaps you’ve heard of it?” “Um, no,” Lugner said unimpressed. “Should we have?” Haina waved his arm dismissively, “Bah, nevermind,” he said somewhat disappointedly. “It’s not important, I guess. Look, I’d love to help you, but at the moment, I’m having issues with the ion engine, and the sensor array has been on the fritz. I’m grounded.” Lugner cursed in his native tongue, but Stephen had an idea. “Hey, I’m pretty good with machines. I’ll help you fix it if you give us passage to a system of our choosing.” “Which system?” Haina asked. Stephen glanced at Lugner who gave a slight shake of his tall head. “We’ll tell you once we’re in orbit. Do we have a deal?” Haina wiped saliva off his jowls. “You’re lucky I’ve been stuck on this sandy rock for a month now. I gotta get off this planet. I hate the sand. It gets everywhere! Deal!” Stephen sent Lugner to his home to gather some of his belongings and Mate while he and Haina got to work on the ship. Two days later, the ship was space-worthy once again. “You’ve got a gift, Stephen,” said Haina. “I never would have thought to shunt power from the hyperdrive motivator to jumpstart the ion engines. And your rewiring of the comm transceiver output into the sensor array was brilliant. Well worth a trip to so podunk planet.” Lugner saw then cleaning up, “Are we good to go? Finally! I’ve been getting tired of losing sabbac to this droid of yours. Who’s ever heard of a droid playing sabbac?” Within an hour, the Fortune and Glory was in orbit around Tatooine. “Okay,” said Haina, “Where am I dropping you off?” Again, Stephen looked to Lugner, who only shrugged this time. “Well, we need to get to Korriban.”

Stephen was awakened by Mate’s beeping. He put his pillow over his head and grunted. This only resulted in the distressed droid rocking back and forth and beeping louder. “G’ah! Shut up you overgrown alarm clock!” Stephen yelled. “I’m up, I’m up.” He rubbed his stubble-covered face and beard—only briefly considering shaving. Who would even see or care if he did? No one, so why bother? He got dressed for the day, quickly ate his protein bar, drank a few sips of stale-tasting water and headed out for the day. * * * * After spending hours tending to the vaporators that actually worked, he took the collected moisture and emptied it into the holding tank on the back seat of the landspeeder. Being that he had time to spare, he decided to travel to Mos Eisley for a drink and—hell—just to get away from the farm for a bit. Not wanting to have to drag the droid along with him, he took him to the garage, and told him to go ahead and have a lubricant bath and full charge. If I’m having a splurge night, he thought, why can’t he?. Mate beeped his delight, and did as instructed. With that he set off for Mos Eisley. * * * * After finding a spot to park the speeder, and fending off a Jawa offering to buy it for next to nothing, he made his way to Chalmun's Cantina. He walked up to the bar, nodded to Burnett, the bulbous-nosed bartended who looked exactly like the photo of his father, Wuher, hanging above the bar. “Same as usual?” the bartender asked. “Not tonight,” Stephen replied. “Whiskey. Corellian.” “Whoa! Rough week at the farm…or a profitable one?” “Rough one. Give me some dustcrepes as well. I’m starving.” “You got it. I’ll bring it over to your booth.” “Thanks,” Stephen said as he made his way to his favorite booth. It was his favorite booth because, for a reason he was unsure of, it was always unoccupied. It could be from the strange blaster mark about head-high on the wall—he wasn’t sure. A short time later, Burnett arrived with the steaming plate of food. Stephen thanked him, and began munching on the meat-filled crepes while listening to the band play music. If you could call that a band, he chuckled to himself, ….and if you could call that music. “S’cuse me,” said a light voice interrupting Stephen’s thoughts. “Mind if I have a seat?” Stephen looked up to see a light-skinned cerean male with light brown hair. “Uhh…sure. I suppose.” “Many thanks,” the cerean male said with a slight bow. “I don’t mean to intrude, but I have watched you since you arrived, and you seem like a local who’s been around a while.” Stephen squinted his eyes suspiciously, “Look, if your trying to make an easy scam—“ “No, no, no,” the other said quickly, “Nothing of the sort. I am stranded here, and I need a trustworthy transport to take me home. All the smugglers who come through here are too suspicious or busy to even bother listening to me. Do you by chance have a transport?” “Heh…”, Stephen barked, “I wish. Last I checked moisture farming barely pays for my debt, much less a luxury starship. Have you asked Burnett, the bartender?” “Yes, he said, ‘Stow it—and don’t annoy the paying customers!’” “Yeah—sounds like him alright. Look, I’m just a farmer. I don’t know any pilots or merchants. Not my crowd. I can’t help you get to Cerea.” “No, not Cerea,” he replied as he leaned in and lowered his voice, “I need to get to Korriban...”

A hot, sweaty humanoid crawls out from under a moisture vaporator, and throws a rusty hydrospanner into his toolbox with a sigh. "Well, Mate," he said to a dirty, rust-colored M8-F7 astromech droid, "Looks like half of the chilling bars are bad. Make a note to pick up some spares next time we go into town, will ya?" Boop-bweep-blip-beep-beep? the droid asked. "No, I don't care how much they will price gouge," he retorted angrily. "We need the blasted thing working. We've already lost two, and it's not like we have the 500 credits lying around to buy a new one! C'mon, let's get home." Stephen Farstrider hopped onto his landspeeder, waited for Mate to attach via mag-crane, then departed for home. His home was an abandoned homestead he had found. He wasn't sure who had lived there, but someone had cared for the previous residents at least--evident by what was left of six sand-scoured tombstones. He cleaned up as best he could, made his dinner, ate while listening to the latest news transmission downloaded by Tatooine Central, and then went to bed.

STEPHEN'S CHARACTER SHEET Identity Real Name: Stephen Farstrider A.K.A: N/A Homeworld: Tatooine Species: Human Physical Description Age: Exact age unknown (former slave); appears to be in early-40's Height: 1.7m Weight: 100kg Hair: Brown; short Eyes: Brown Sex: Male Equipment Clothing or Armor: Nondescript moisture farmer garb Weapon: Refurbished BlasTech DC-17 hand blaster Common Inventory: Spare power packs; macrobinoculars; ets. Faction Information Alignment: None Current Faction Affiliation: None Current Faction Rank: None History: Known Skills: Moisture farming; basic mechanical/electrical repair. Background: Born a slave to a to Jabba the Hutt, he was sold several times at a young age. His mother, he was told was on board Jabba's Sail barge when it was destroyed by Rebellion. He was too young to really remember her, so it matters little. He was eventually emancipated by some representatives of the New Republic, and did the only thing he knew: moisture farming. Ship Registration Name: Unnamed Class: Landspeeder Model: X-34 Manufacturer: SoroSub Corporation Length: 3.4m Armaments: None Armor: None Anti-Personnel Defenses: None Appearance: Copper colored, old, and beat up. Purchased decades ago in Mos Eisley. Modifications: Updated Repulserlift engine; able to reach an altitude 3m.

((Post deleted; just don't have time to RP properly guys. Don't want to be a negative to the forum's RP scene.))

Pravus drove the AT-RT silently through the overgrown forest on his way to what his censors indicated being a small town. He stopped outside the town and continued in using the well-walked pathway. People eyed him warily. Apparently they weren't used to strangers deep in the overgrowth. Standing in what could've been considered the town square, he spoke with a loud voice, "I seek information only. I wish no harm to any being." Most people gathered the children and went indoors. While watching the people hide from him, he noticed one twitchy character motioning for him to follow. After going inside his small, yet well-lit home, he shut the door and said, "Name's Hilic. Who're you?" "I am called Pravus," the Sith replied. "As I said, I am only seeking information. I need to know where to find the two cults on this forsaken planet." "The cults?" he asked tilting his head. "Why do you want to get involved with them? They worship evil figures, Pravus. Evil." "It matter not who they worship," Pravus replied impatiently. His impatience must have shown for the other man cowed down in his chair. "Now, can you tell me where to find them or not?" "Yup, I can tell you," he said with a smirk, then added, "For a price..." "How about your life?" Pravus answered, making the man cringe. "I'll also throw in two-hundred credits for your troubles." He held up the credit-chit and raised his eyebrows. Hilic went to his terminal and typed up some information, putting it on a data-disk. He dropped the disk into Pravus's hand while swiping the credit-chit at the same time. "Pleasure doing business with you," he said with that knowing smirk. Sensing his plans were in danger, Pravus imagined the man's blood boiling, until suddenly Hilic's eyes, ears and nose began to bleed. Pravus grabbed the credit-chit from the mans spasming fingers and said, "You were going to betray me to the cults. I can not allow that. You will die slowly and painfully from a brain hemorrhage since you were greedy. I have no pity for you." With that, Pravus walked out of the home and out of the town. Getting back on his AT-RT, he inserted the data-disk and downloaded the contents. Two blips now blinked on his screen. Hopefully, this information is acurate, Pravus thought as he put the AT-RT into motion. ___________________

Remaining kneeling, Pravus put his fist to his chest and said, "As you command, my Lord." Waiting for the slightest of nods from the older man, he got up and began his mission. After getting a pack together that included changes of clothes, a holocorder, rations, and other various items, he entered the garage. He noticed a refurbished AT-RT in the corner and asked the technician about it. It was retro-fitted with sound dampeners that made the vehicle practically silent in its movement. Aside from the repeating blaster in the nose of the vehicle, a grenade-launcher was placed underneath. "I shall take this on my mission," he told the tech. "Inform Lord Dagon of my departure." ___________________

Pravus listened to the man intently, then during the pause afterwards, knelt on his knee and spoke, "My life is in your hands, Master. Do with it what you will. I only ask to take my father's place as a Sith and continue his work." ___________________

Pravus sat in his flight-chair on board vessel. I've never heard of Ishvara, he thought to himself. I wonder what's there, and what this man will teach me... As if the he knew his thoughts, the man known as Dagon looked at him with a calculating glance that seemed to bore into Pravus's core. When Pravus shivered, the man smiled slightly and turned away. ___________________

Shaking his head, Pravus drank some water and tried to make himself go back to sleep. ___________________

While he was cleaning up after eating, he felt a presence probe his mind. The hairs on his neck and arms prickled as it probed, but fell back down when it left. What the blazes was that? he thought. Not wanting to dwell on the strange sensation, he went back to his room and fell on top of the bed and went into a deep sleep with dreams of his father telling him stories of what he now knew to be other Sith masters. His dreams were interrupted by a strange clawed hand that seem to grope for him. The strangest thing of all was that his father was helping the clawed hand attempt to grab him. He woke with a start, covered in cold sweat. "What in blazes is wrong with me?!" he said aloud while shaking his head. ___________________

Feeling slightly miffed, he bowed slightly and said, "As you wish, m'lady." He had looked forward to possibly chatting with the woman, but she didn't seem to be the chatting type. Assuming he could make himself at home, he began to check her foodstores. He considered himself a good cook, having to do so for himself and his father. He found enough to make himself some scrimpi with a glockaw sauce. He was amazed to find the means to make a ryshcate cake, but made one nonetheless. There would be leftovers for sure, and maybe it would give Dominique something better than re-heated nerf patties for a meal. When he was done eating, he went to his room, dressed for bed, and began to read the journal his father had given him. So far it had told of his past as a Sith, and some of the secrets and techniques he had learned. It seemed complicated to him now, but he was sure that with time, it would make perfect sense. ___________________

Nodding his thanks to the departing woman's back, Pravus looked around the estate. He asked a passing servant which room he could sleep in, and set his things down when he got there. He was too keyed up to sleep. He wandered the estate looking at several decorative knick-knacks, not really paying attention to detail. He came upon a door labeled "Do Not Enter" and assumed it was the library. Not wanting to ruin his supposed good name, he resisted the urge to go inside. His stomach rumbled reminding him he hadn't eaten since the passenger cruiser's cheap meal the night before. He asked a servant who was cleaning the floors to a polished sheen where the kitchen was. He went in the direction she pointed him in and stumbled upon the woman he just left eating a quiet meal at an long empty table. "Oh, excuse me," he muttered nervously. "I didn't mean to intrude. I was going to grab something to eat, but if you'd prefer to be alone...". He deliberately left the statement unfinished. ___________________

Pravus looked at the paper. It only had coordinates scrawled on it. He's need a way to get there. After looking in his pouch, he realized the funds he drained from his father's account were still holding up well. He eventually found a rental shop and rented out an old Flare-S swoop and traveled to the coordinates he was given. The estate loomed in front of him gloomily. Swallowing the slight lump in his throat, he knocked on the door. I hope I know what I'm doing, he thought to himself as he listened to his knocks echoing beyond the doorway. ___________________

Pravus looked at the woman he saw before him, "I was told that you were someone I could contact in order to seek the Sith Brotherhood." She wasn't how he would have pictured her to be. He couldn't put his finger on exactly what he thought she might look like. "If my informant was wrong," he continued without waiting for a response, "I'd have to kill him. Would that displease you?" ___________________