Space

[Raia Montar]

Thank you for saying that Raia, I am quite ashamed of it. Though he still is in me somewhere, waiting. So I'm gunna be more careful. I'm here with mama so I think we are training but I’m more looking forward to seeing Ca’Aran.

 

Raia tried hard not to jerk her head at the unexpected intrusion into her mind as the girl's words and Ca'Aran-Delta's image swam in her mind's eye. Telperiën's sudden movement along with the dark shadow that was cast over the two girls brought Raia to her feet as well. The foulness of the creature stilled her in whatever action she might have taken, other than placing her hand on the younger girl's shoulder. "Don't," was all she managed to whisper as the masked monstrosity turned his attention away from the two girls and glided down the corridor on business that was his own.

 

She waited until the unspeakable creature was out of sight before turning to Telperiën and placing her hands on the girl's shoulders. "We should probably go somewhere we won't be underfoot, but can still monitor what's going on. Come with me to the Ravenhammer. We'll be safe enough there and I can help you learn some of the Sith language if you like."

 

Part of her was reluctant to bring the younger girl with her, but she knew the risk was less now that she knew about the spirit that still lurked deep within the Dathomiri girl and would have Vex'aedr and 2V handy. She released Telperiën and began to gather her things since she was heading for the Ravenhammer regardless of if the other girl cared to join her or not. "Surely your mother can't object to spending your time learning while she and our fathers make war on the enemies of the Sith?"

[Raynuk Montar]

As the holograms blinked out one by one, signalling the end of the briefing, Raynuk straightened his back, casting one more glance around the room to those who were physically present and those who were transmitting in. As he turned to leave the room, he felt the all-consuming will of Sheog wash over him, indicating the Battlemind was being set in place. He willingly opened himself to it, adding his own strength to it as he connected and felt the strength and focus of all the others contained within. It was a sensation that he had nearly forgotten the strength of. He did pause however, and turned back to the room, and approached Qaela, offering no sign of threat or conflict.

 

"Given our role in this battle, I plan on strongly suggesting to Raia that she remain aboard the Ravenhammer for the remainder of the engagement. If the battle does not go in our favor, my droid will be able to pilot my ship to a safe location. Since you and Ca'Aran will likewise be engaged, I want to extend the offer to you to have Telperien join her there as well. If we fail, neither one of us want our children to suffer for our mistakes anymore than they may have already..."

He took a step back, gauging Qaela's reaction, then shrugged. "Simply an offer to consider."

 

He turned from her then, exiting the briefing room, and resumed his path back through the Bleeding Kyber towards the Ravenhammer. Once there, he briefed 2-VSH on what Raynuk expected of the droid, setting in place contingencies for possible outcome. With the droid reluctantly accepting the responsibility given to him, Raynuk found Raia, and told her much the same as he had told Qaela and 2V; suggesting that she remain aboard the ship should anything happen, and to listen to whatever 2V suggested if the worst should happen. With his wishes known, Raynuk returned to his quarters to prepare for the battle to come. Considering he would be a part of the space battle engaging in ship to ship combat, Raynuk opted to forgo his black duster, and also decided to leave behind his charric and warhammer, placing each on his bed in an almost ceremonial fashion.

 

As a final touch, Raynuk retrieved the heavily worn and scratched Katarn helmet that Delta had 'graciously' parted with back on Coruscant. He snickered slightly to himself remembering how the helmet came to his possession. But the moment passed just as quickly, and Raynuk exited his quarters, tucking the helmet under his arm. He would coordinate and link the helmet back into the network that Delta used for coordination among his fighter squadrons, which Raynuk anticipated would give him a further level of integration into the battle. As if on cue or a carefully timed plan, 2V emerged from the cockpit.

 

<>

 

The droid's tone was oddly alarmed, but Raynuk showed no signs of it, merely nodding and moving past the droid to the cockpit. Once there, he checked the frequency and ping that 2V had mentioned, nearly at once confirming his suspicion before responding, sending a single word of command back along the frequency.

 

"karalaiks..."

 

====================

 

From who-knows-where in the galaxy, a single, heavily aged and run down cargo freighter appeared from hyperspace, barely limping into the area that the Sith fleet was amassing before stopping cold, well away from any of the gathered ships. And there it waited, not responding to any communication, and showing no signs of life except for the ping of data sent out along a very specific communication frequency at regular intervals.

 

Karalaiks

 

The single word command, sent back along the frequency however, changed the situation entirely. The pulses stopped immediately, and then fifteen seconds later, anyone who happened to be looking at the freighter was treated to an entirely unexpected sight; suddenly and without warning, the freighter seemed to crack in half along its center point, immediately sheering apart into several pieces as though the ship itself had exploded, only without the fire and destruction. As the fragments drifted apart, they revealed the singular object that had been contained within; fighter interceptor ship, painted as black as the emptiness of space; an ETA-2 Fighter.

 

The Darksoul.

 

Waiting only long enough for the fragments to clear the path of the ship, the Darksoul fired its engines up, and began moving.

====================

 

Raynuk wasted no more time, departing the Ravenhammer and watching from the hanger bay as the freighter that carried his old fighter broke apart to reveal his prize. Dereliced long ago following the space battle over Gala that brought an end to the last great Sith fleet, the Darksoul was hidden away as Raynuk could not bring himself to destroy the ship outright as he began favoring the more spacious confines of the Ogariv II. But now it's time had come once again. Pulliing up his command gauntlet once more, he re-linked the Darksoul with it, granting him control of the ship remotely, just as he had with the Ravenhammer. After informing the Kyber of it's origin and designation and having it cleared for landing in the hanger bay, Raynuk could only watch with a sense of pride and memory as the ship's engines kicked in and made its way towards him, eventually coming to land right next to the Ravenhammer, giving Raynuk the opportunity to give the ship a closer inspection in person.

[Alora]

“Seems that the Order is at war once more. I suppose though that it was time, especially with the Empire hunting us.”

 

“Yes, so it seems. Impressive isn’t it,” Alora’s eyes scanned the view out the front of the Grand Duke. She was glad she had taken the time to put on her deep crimson and grey armor. If they were going to be participating in a battle she was going to be prepared.

 

“It might be best if we keep them inside the ship until we find where we stand.”

 

“I agree,” she stated to Draken as Shadow let out a noise that sounded like an objection. “Sorry girl, you have to stay and help Krakis guard the ship.” Her hand automatically stroked the small feline in reassurance. Alora watched as her beloved brought his ship in to dock. Once he had gone through his post flight procedures, she rose with him, following him out of the Grand Duke and into the hanger bay where they waited for their escort.

[Qaela]

Qaela was intrigued at the battle plan, but the majority of it was beyond her. She knew how to fight on land, though in smaller groups. She was not a fleet commander and may not ever be one. Her strength was striking quietly from the shadows at a singular enemy, not attacking with waves of ships and men. Still, she was glad that others knew such things. Ca'Aran had always impressed her with both his ability to inspire his men as well as his ability to coordinate larger attacks. She had heard and read things of Exodus' abilities in the past, but it was hard to discern fact from myth. She was more than surprised to find she was to fight among the fighters. Her only experiences fighting in space were as a gunner for Ca'Aran, and her accomplishments were nothing of note even with the Force. Still, she was now under the leadership of Exodus and, if anything, she knew how to fight in a tribe and follow orders. Hopefully, she would have an opportunity to fight on the ground where her skills and experience in jungles and forests would be of great use.

 

After the briefing, Raynuk approached her. Here, among the Sith, with each individual focused on a singular purpose, she was both surprised and pleased that she felt no alarm at his approach. Today, the Sith here were unified as one with little if any thought of betrayal. It was as it always should have been and it felt quite pleasant.

 

"Given our role in this battle, I plan on strongly suggesting to Raia that she remain aboard the Ravenhammer for the remainder of the engagement. If the battle does not go in our favor, my droid will be able to pilot my ship to a safe location. Since you and Ca'Aran will likewise be engaged, I want to extend the offer to you to have Telperien join her there as well. If we fail, neither one of us want our children to suffer for our mistakes anymore than they may have already...

Simply an offer to consider."

 

She nodded in consideration, though the truth is she had been wondering what to do with Telperien if she was to be in battle. It struck her that this may have been the first kind gesture he had offered her since his toast right before trying to kill her. With this new spirit of unity, she figured it might be time to attempt to break the spear and make peace. She never had any doubt of Raynuk's ability as a warrior, having him as an ally would be quite useful and would allow her to focus her energies elsewhere. "I am grateful for the offer," she replied with a quick bow of her head, "and I will gladly accept. Telperien has learned much on Korriban, but she is not yet ready for battle. Knowing she is safe will allow me to focus better on fighting the enemy instead of defending her."

 

 

He turned to leave the briefing room, so she followed. She let him make the offer to Raia and made it known through her own bond with her daughter that she was in agreement. There would be a time to take her daughter to war, but this was not yet that time. She wasn't quite sure what all to do, but she would defer to Raynuk.

 

"Lord Montar," she said with the proper deference to one who was of superior position, "I am here to follow commands, but must confess that my skills as a pilot are definitely not my strongest point. I am adequate as a gunner or in a shuttle, but nothing of note. I will fight as commanded, but am not sure what is needed of me."

[ReignOfKarth]

Celora stepped forward, cautious eyes on the Sith master before her as she finished a third cube, the others resting on the ground beside her. She carefully reached down toward the handle, eyes never leaving the lightsaber before her. Impressed by his display, she more eagerly grabbed the blade, almost dropping it as she ignited in her hand. She carefully held it up, awkwardly positioned like she was holding a Space-Broom . Her response was simple as she faced the Sith, weaving lightsaber atop an unsteady stance, "Um..."

[Telperiën Ar-Pharazon]

The Ravenhammer was a beautiful ship, it's sleek curves dully reflected distant starlight that Telperiën could see through the docking terminal, the long tunnel that connected the large ship to the Bleeding Kyber as the latter was loaded with munitions as the Sith capital vessel was prepared for war. Telperiën carried her small satchel over her shoulder as she boarded alongside the older girl. She had always wanted to understand the Sith language, and the prospect of learning it was daunting but likely very fulfilling. The distant voices that whispered unknown chants into the force around her were very likely speaking the language themselves. And perhaps she could finally interpret what had become a constant background noise.

 

The paracusia or auditory hallucinations that she was experiencing consistently had began to disturb her sleep. She spoke, mostly to fill the silence between the two girls and also to silence the voices.

 

“Do you think if I learn it I can tell the voices to go away? They keep me up.”

 

She spoke almost matter of factly, but she knew that she was different than other little girls and she was becoming keenly aware that that fact was no advantage. It was an embarrassing mark on a girl that just wanted to fit in.

[Exodus]

The holo-feed dematerialized slowly, allowing the digital shaders to retreat to the core of the war table. With his palms still planted firmly on the ledge, Exodus closed his eyes to better feel out the commotion that now set about on all levels of the Kyber. The draw of exhilaration that came with war would nourish his own and inoculate him with an intrinsic high, euphoric in every sense of the word. The Dark Lord knew it was time, and turned to take leave.

 

• ===

 

 

Scarecrow stood alone before their vessel, arms tucked behind his back and his head hung low. The long length of his hood covered his face in darkness, but the glint of his silver mask poked through by a sliver. The crimson cloak that wrapped his mammoth body was indicative of one thing, and that was that this creature was of elite regard and was a personal unit commanded by Lord Exodus alone. He was no servant to Master Draken, nor was he submissive to the exquisite allure of Master Alora. This creature was peerless, just like his brothers that too served the Spider, but their respect of others would never be remiss. "Welcome home Lord and Lady, I am of the Zkasaeva, do follow me to your private quarters. War awaits us all." The scarecrow moniker fit how best to describe this creature; his presence was loose and detached, as if where he stood meant that was where life would end. He turned slowly, and kept a great deal of distance between himself and those he escorted, allowing them to chat without him impeding their conversation. His mind was a ravenous thing, and the foundations of his training made it so he utilized each and every secret at his disposal to break both his allies and enemies.

 

Once properly escorted to their private accommodations, the Zkasaeva would depart, having no interest in the lavish surroundings that was afforded to both Lady Alora and Lord Draken.

 

 

• ===

 

Kashyyyk was an exotic world that dangled just outside of a new Sith realm. The population seethed as of late, as word spread that the largest gathering of Jedi in recent time had been held here of all places. This came as no surprise to the Spider, for he knew of a tall tale concerning a certain Wookie, one who made the fatal mistake of treading the dark alone. Despite his shortcomings, the population swelled beyond measure, rivaling wealthy core worlds in abundant resources and had now drew the rest of the Jedi from hiding. If there were any that remained, Exodus would see to them personally. Aboard the Kyber however, Admiral Surah Brammosk was trusted to command the menacing destroyer-class, a fierce vessel built on the backs of Umbarans. The Devaronian wore a crisp black naval uniform that represented her full rank, trinketed with displays of medals that covered her left breast, mostly achievements warranted from expeditions in the Unknown Regions. Brammosk understood that her experiences amounted to little before the eyes of the Sith, but prospering in the outer rim produced a lethal edge in her command that many here respected.

 

 

• "The Emperor has signalled our departure?”

 

The Admiral spoke with a coy sneer that lingered beneath her tongue as she swept through the bridge doors and down into the command deck. “Yes Admiral, Lord Exodus has convened his council and has retired to his chambers. The fleet is in position, and all systems are go.” The young naval officer responded immediately, sitting at the communications station down below, eyes trained to his monitors. He was a young boy, a familiar face from the Onderon capture, and extremely quick with his words. Brommosk swept passed him and searched the bleek panorama of space through the vast viewport. Surah kept facial features that were beautifully resolute and a head of long wine-red hair, immaculately braided to weave in every last follicle. Her looks were angelic, her physicality was superior to most individuals onboard, and her viciousness staid the ambitious hands of men who would try her.

 

 

“..Let’s not keep Him, punch it.”

 

 

 

 

(Sith Fleet Enters Hyperspace)

[Sapphire]

The last several weeks had been full ones for the Blood Gem Pirates.

 

Communication with Ruby back on Nar Shaddaa had been limited to discrete untraceable data drops. The Chiss had worked on consolidating their remaining assets on the former Smuggler's Moon, keeping her head down and under the Imperial radar. Her tone in their messages had always been professional, but Sapphire could tell that while times were tight, Ruby believed that it was only a matter of waiting things out. Once the Imperials got sloppy, things would get back to normal.

 

Sapphire herself wasn't so sure, but she appreciated Ruby's perspective, and the fact that Tarvil agreed helped put the Hapan's mind at ease. Still, she hated the thought of the Imperials running their grimy fingers through what had been the freest planet in the galaxy.

 

As for Emerald and herself, they had filled their days visiting old contacts, building connections, and securing their offworld assets. Most of their operations hadn't yet gotten planted on Nar Shaddaa, so they hadn't been too hurt financially by the Empire's takeover. And in a changing galaxy, there were always new opportunities to be had.

 

One of those opportunities had practically dropped itself in Sapphire's lap during a visit to Falleen. One of their contacts had mentioned that it wasn't just the Imperials who were militarizing, but rather, it seemed all the major factions had begun a massive space race, each aiming to build fleets as fast as the shipyards could pump them out. He had a connection with an arms dealer who was looking for a partner. After talking it over briefly, Emerald and Sapphire had jumped at the opportunity. There was a large buy-in, but it would be a nice steady stream of income, and had the benefit of adding a legitimate side to their finances. As Sapphire had put it, "Credits are credits, and if the governments want to pay us to help them destroy each other, I see no reason why we can't oblige them."

 

Everyone knew the way the galactic winds were blowing. War was coming. And war was very lucrative for fringe elements, assuming they had the wherewithal to set things up to gain the most profit. The Gems were setting up their networks, and it was only a matter of time before the payoff would come.

 

Personally, Sapphire was focused, nursing a burning hatred towards the Imperials. But she didn't let her hatred distract her; rather, it fueled her brilliance. With every step they took, they thought through all possible outcomes, working to ensure that something like Nar Shaddaa would never hinder their operations again. But at night, when she lay tossing and turning in her bunk, she couldn't fight the depression and sense of despondency that overtook her. She had known that choosing piracy would be a difficult road; it was one reason why, when she was first deciding how to use her degrees, she was tempted to join an established governmental organization. She still thought it was worth it...but she wasn't sure, and that thought, so quiet during the day, was always amplified in the quiet of the night.

[Emerald]

"I'm going to resort to picking off Tibanna freighters and selling cheap blasters on the black market if we don't see some movement soon," Emerald lamented, sprawled out on her bunk listlessly. "You'd think those kriffing bucketheads would have learned their lesson by now. Trying to suppress crime in the Y'toub system is like firing a blaster bolt in a magnetically sealed trash compactor."

 

The whir of servomotors interrupted her moping and she turned her head to acknowledge the glossy black BB unit as it rolled to a halt and beeped urgently at her.

 

"What do you want, twerp?" she snapped at the droid.

 

A series of whistles ended with a loud blatt, and with an overexaggerated groan, Emerald leapt up to follow him. "This better be real news this time, no more of those weird pictures with captions on them--"

 

Her voice trailed off as she entered the cockpit just in time to see the entire occupying Imperial fleet jump to hyperspace, one after another, winking into oblivion like a relentless suitor who had not yet learned the art of tact. "Well, I'll be a Hutt's body fungus," she muttered to herself, then turned over her shoulder to holler back into the hold. "Sapphire, get up here."

 

She gestured to the empty space between them and the planet, the blockade having departed. A sparkle of a devious idea glinted in her eyes.

 

"I think it's high time we go do a little digging ourselves. Find out what dear Raven left behind for us," she said mischievously.

[Chaotic Tranquility]

Deep in the spaces of the Outer rim, the ship known as Akumanosu exits hyperspace. The location is remote, not near any systems besides a few solitary planets blasted away from long dead stars. The being aboard simply awaits the arrival of his task, and aims to please his Master. Hopefully his request is acknowledged, and his Master's dream will become reality.

[ChessRo]

The Minx hurdled through hyperspace on its own. Chess spent their time wedged into a tiny space next to the motivator, fine-tuning the connections between the sub-light engines and the stabilizers. Oz tootled at them occasionally, usually to update flight progress or speculate on their destination. Binoo trundled up occasionally with small food-paks, as well as scheduled reminders to check the hyperdrive and route changes.

 

As a wise Bothan once said, when the Force closed one hyperspace route, it opened another. Chess didn’t have a contact, but they did have some credits, and there were always improvements to be made to their standard of living. Sometimes it was parts for the Minx; other times it was an upgrade for Oz or Binoo. Sometimes, Chess wanted a new toy to play with. During one of their food breaks, they let the pads of their paws rub over the small sacks in their gloves, reminding them of one of their many tricks up their sleeve. It set their mind at ease, and let their fur once again lay flat against their neck. Chess licked the remains of their meal off the edge of their plate, and resumed their repairs on the stabilizers. When they landed again, the Minx would be in tip-top shape.

[SithAcolyte]

Aboard The Persephone, speeding through hyperspace, Darla began to relax. The ship had become her home. In all her travels along he outer rim, years in exile, her ship had been a constant in her life. She had watched her children grow up on the old space yacht. In wasn't a large ship, but it was big enough for a small family. Darla had actually gotten used to the small space. There was something comforting about it, like her own little cocoon. She wasn't much to look at, but that was the idea. Darla had wanted something unassuming. Comfort over style. Most importantly as passerby would thing it was a small cargo ship and not the home of the wife of the Jedi Grandmaster and their children.

 

Darla hadn't taken Skye up her her offer of a shower and clean clothes. It would have felt strange wearing Amon or Krishna's clothes. A reminder that even their own mother didn't know where they were. As well as that, she had just wanted to get away. To get moving. Although she wan't really sure exactly where she was going.

 

There was the pretense of trying to gather information to help the Jedi stop Faust. But in reality, Darla just wanted to see her old friend. For some reason she was drawn to Alora after all these years. On some level she felt that she would be able to regain some old part of herself long lost. The darker part. It wasn't that she wanted to rejoin the Sith, but there had been a ferocious strength in her own dark part of herself. She'd lost that. In the light side of the Force she had found some peace. But in the end she'd walked away from it all; the Jedi and the Sith.

 

Something was drawing her back.

 

She knew that her children would become Jedi. She knew that she couldn't just stand in sidelines. She needed to be strong once more to support them through the trials that they would face. If she didn't, if she kept out of galactic affairs as she had for so many years, she'd lose them. The truth was, she didn't want them to become Jedi, but she knew that she couldn't stop them.

 

These thoughts swirled through her mind as she showered, hoping the heat and steam would purge the anxieties away. To some extent it worked. She dried herself, dressing in a simple vest and loose pants, happy to be alone and not having to care how she looked. Darla made her way to the cockpit, data pad in hand.

 

"Let's give this a go." She said aloud as she began to key Alora's comm frequency in.

[Sheog the Mad]

The bright swirling blanket of hyperspace was drawn back, sending the heavily modified Mark VI Supremacy class fighter into the meeting place. The Fallen Ember rested a moment in the darkness of space as the pilot observed the flamelike tendrils of fluorescent nebula about her, backlit by a myriad of clustered stars. Hayley adjusted the navicomputer and activated the transponder-code forwarded to her by the Vermandois. Mysterious meetups were, to the teenager, a bit ostentatious.

 

The girl removed the flight helmet, shaking out the locks of auburn hair as they fell across her shoulders in a greasy mess. Her nose wrinkled as she adjusted the metallic eyepatch that had been grafted to her flesh, not yet used to the way it felt against her skin and bone. It was a pitiful and temporary replacement for the eye she had lost working alongside Karys. With a tired hand she toggled the longscan com and spoke softly

 

“Whoever you are, I come with the greetings of Sheog of the Krath… What exactly do you want?”

 

[Chaotic Tranquility]

As the Akumanosu sat stationary in space, awaiting a response to it's Master's call, the being aboard went about it's daily duties. The ship was to remain pristine at all times, the ship's loft like status immaculate, and dinner awaiting the arrival of Guests. Such was the tasks granted to the being presently aboard. Suddenly a comm comes across it's highly encrypted and secured channel.

 

"My name is One." The being spoke back, first revealing it's male tone as well as it's tending to observe it's mannerism. "Please attach to Air Dock 1 on the aft side, and I will meet you shortly. My Master cannot wait for me to start the terms of our Business with his Huttness."

 

Shortly after, a Airdock protrudes forward from the aft for the fighter to connect with, while One goes about inside preparing his guest's arrival.

[Sheog the Mad]

...Creepy. The things I do for this kriffin Hutt.

 

Hayley sighed, blowing a lock of greasy hair from her vision, only for it to settle back to obscure it once more. She removed the leather flight gloves from her nail-bitten fingers, and guided the fighter into the automated docking procedures. As the ship began to secure itself, the girl slipped her DL-44 into its holster, and untangled herself from the oversized crash-webbing. She pulled the red lever to her right and the cockpit slid aside, revealing a ladder within reach.

 

Hayley pulled herself from the cramped cockpit, stretching her back as she clambered up the worn ladder. When she came to the secondary airlock, she could finally stand up straight. Running her cold hands through her hair, she tucked the unruly mess behind her ear, revealing her one good eye, a mix of corrupted yellow sulphur and bloodshot crimson. She opened the door and stepped through, feeling the decking beneath her boots, suddenly aware of her rumpled black flightsuit and her unkempt appearance.

 

“Well, I’m here. Shall we discuss?”

 

[Chaotic Tranquility]

"Yes, mi'lady." One proclaimed as he offered her to follow him as he shuffled away toward the inner hosting area of the ship, where a rather lavish buffet awaited her if she so chose to indulge, along with somber music playing through-out the ship, and a wide selection of rare wines and ales tucked away within the side bars. Not that it was meant to impress, but Milenko often used the Akumanosu as a private apartment during his 'excursions'. "I represent Prince Milenko of House Shiro, Panatha's ruling House and second born to his brother Ryu under the late Empreror Rashido. My Master says I'm nothing but a glorified C3-P0, but I serve him proudly. Please, induldge yourself."

 

Allowing the newly arrived visitor to do as she pleased, whether merely taking a seat or enjoying the food and wine he had assorted for her, One stepped toward the middle of the floor before her. "It is my Master's dream to understand life and death, to enjoy it's concepts on a plane that most cannot fathom. As you can see..." One removes his cloak and reveals his visage to be a near look alike of his Master, Milenko Shiro. "He's attempted it before, and I am only the first. I am a modified Human Replica Droid, programmed not only with his memories to a near clone like degree, but his wants and dreams as well. However, due to programming issues, I retain my droid like demeanor, and so, I am a failed experiment. As are my siblings, Two and Three."

 

One, determined in his mission, lets his words rest for a moment before continuing. "Recently my Master came across some texts that suggested that some Sith were able to attain something similar to what he wishes to achieve using Alchemy and Sorcery, which is why he had me contact the Hutt known as Sheog among your ranks. We've heard tale of his ability in the Arts through both the Prince's and Emperor's networking. Are we correct in this assumption?"

[Andon]

I am full of years and out of time. I have laid along the shoreline of creation and watched the last sunset that will ever grace the horizon fade. My walk has passed through every history that will ever be and the sandy grain of possibilities that never were. And the memories of untold lifetimes and the empty in-between have been washed clean, as the tides of eternity crashed gently against my feet. I am full of years and time is slipping away, but the tale of my demise has been partially exaggerated.

 

In the farthest reach, of the most desolate expanse, hidden in the most remote nook, within the smallest corner, a lone ship haunted a virgin patch of space. The ship is tiny in comparison to the vast sea of empty black that envelopes the horizon as far as forever can be. In this vessel, the only three beings for a hundred thousand light-years can be found. An astromech and protocol droid lay dormant in the current of electric dreams from long ago. Untold years passed with the two the only company to be had in this voyage through derelict waters and starlight vacant skies. Even now the droids are waiting for their master to stir from the long winter’s nap he has endured.

 

And in this lonely ship anchored at the edge of existence, a single man sleeps, but does not dream. He has many years left waiting to be explored and an unknown amount of time to experience. But he is now the boy that can no longer be, drifting in a deep slumber. He can not feel, nor want, nor miss; but he is forever young and full of life, in this stasis amongst the nothing. His heart does not beat, and his lungs do not exhale. He is immersed within the most inward part of his being. Woven about him is the essence of all creation, the universes that have been and have yet to bloom flow through his veins, sustaining him in this journey of being undone. In this chrysalis of the Force, he is the treasure hidden away, waiting to be revealed.

 

Reflection: I had a wife and daughter once, long ago. And, very recently. And, I will again. It is confusing, is it not? I assure you, it will only become more curiouser and curiouser the longer you listen to my tale. Question: Can you truly be lost, when you can be found anywhere? Answer: Questionable.

 

The treasure is not the boy in chrysalis, for he is only the shell. His boast to steer the tide of the Force was one of misconception. Steering implies having to travel from a place where you are, to a different place where you are yet to be. When you are everywhere in the Force, there is nowhere left to travel. In this maw of infinity, he is every moment that has ever occurred, and will ever be experienced. Splintered into an infinite number of pieces, he dwells along every avenue of reality and stands as Guardian against the vastness of unexistence. He has lived every second, of every day, of every year, of every life, surrounded by every being that could possibly be. And he is alone.

 

For this journey began with a girl. It began with a life that was to never be known, and the inability to grieve all that he had. For it was not one girl, but two, that haunted his dreams. Wife and daughter. Gone, erased, stolen. A husband and father. Nevermore. It would undo anyone.

 

I loved them very much. Every day, all day, with every beat of my heart. All that I was, I gave to them. I abandoned war to keep them safe and killed to create a day in which such acts were no longer needed. But they were gone, and no longer needed me. Yet, I needed them.

 

But, Andon was not anyone. He was brave and loyal. He did what was necessary, against all odds of loss, without remorse. He was Jedi. Jedi do not mourn. There is no death, there is only the Force.

 

In my grief, I made the only logical choice a man could. I undid reality and broke creation.

 

There are certain realms of knowledge that no man should ever ascertain to possess. The very nature of life and death is enough to drive a man to madness, even with only the tiniest glimpse of the modicum human wisdom can muster. In ignorance, there is a certain innocence that can never be recovered once you have known a world outside of its protection. Andon would never possess such mortal innocence again. He did not ascend to a plain of enlightenment beyond his comprehension and lose his mind to the vastness of reality. He stole the secrets of eternity from the Room of Infinite Thrones and smirked as he razed the castle to the ground behind him. But he was empty.

 

Emptiness is everywhere. Emptiness is crushing, it was the only anchor that held him firm, delaying the eradication of his person within his complete Immersion. So, he became empty, because empty can fit into any space and make claim to it. In every moment and experience, he allowed his empty to make it unto his own.

 

He is the boy that peeked at every Christmas present through the span of a billion universes’ entropies and held the secrets ransom. He wandered every minute of creation searching for them, just to see his wife and daughter once more, if only in glimpses. After an irrevocable amount of time, he had found them. Instead of a gift, it was a curse, for he could see them, but not be with them. He could no longer share his life with them. He had spent so much time in the waters of eternity, he had forgotten how to return to the shore. So, he could only observe and influence; he could never truly embrace them.

 

I used to shape my daughter’s dreams. They were vibrant, full of color and wonder and magic and all the things a little girl needed to be reassured by. All the things I was unable to give her. Sometimes she would dream of my face. The older she got, the more blurred her image of me would become. I gave context to the lines, connecting the fragments of what she was losing, allowing her to hang on to my memory, if only for a little longer. I used to sing her to sleep, on the whispers of the wind; a gentle breeze tracing through Tirzah’s mind, keeping her safe. I played with her and listened to every story she could conjure, for as long as she could muster. And I adored every syllable she gave me. But it was a limited time. Eventually she stopped dreaming of me. I was the imaginary friend that she had left behind. And it was better that way. But I am selfish. Sometimes when I am weak, I plant in Tirzah’s mind my memory of holding her on the day she was born. I let her feel my joy and love and completion in that moment. It is all the good I have that remains.

 

His knowledge was not limited to only the things that had ever been; his wisdom entailed that which cannot exist. He had lived for a trillion eons past a time when his wife’s bones had returned to the dust that created her. This is a thing that no man should know and a burden no man should carry. But man was no longer an accurate term for the one that used to be called Jedi Master. Now he was master to none and Gatekeeper to all. Andon was a blight amongst celestial beings… and they trembled because of it.

 

He could do anything, but he remained with her.

 

I am weak. There is no other world, but the one by my wife’s side. I am the visage that haunts Jaina; the reflection in a mirror that cannot be found. Yet, I am the warm hand that quells the doubt that all things can be overcome. I whisper to her when she is least likely to listen: this is when I am the easiest to hear. I, too, visit her in dreams. It is our escape, the only reconcile in all the lifetimes we could ever have. But each time Jaina wakes, the same wound carves a hole in her heart that not even I can repair. For all my ability, she is the only one that makes me helpless. So, I savor the time we have in her dreams, and unravel the memory that she ever saw me as she wakes. In this refuge, she gets to have me, but without the anguish of having to remember me. This way she gets to move on without me, but know that she will always have my love. So as her slumber ends, I lose her each morning, again and again. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.

 

He is full of years and almost out of time. And he is restless. He is restless, because the only life he dares not venture to, is his own thread of existence. His timeline, his world, his people, his life. He experiences everything except that which has been given him. The Immersion could not be undone, not entirely. Not yet. But it was time. It was time to begin. It was time to show his girls they had not been abandoned. The Force was his ally, and a powerful ally it was.

 

A curious thing happened across the expanse of a galaxy far, far away. A distortion began from the furthest reaches of the cosmos, and it spread inward. Through the Unknown Regions, to the Outer Rim, to the Galactic Core, the distortion spread. It reached all homes, in every city, on all planets, in all systems, within every galaxy, of the entire universe. It halted all communications. Local, planetary, system wide, galactic, universal: they were all interrupted. Beings on countless worlds experienced the vidscreens of their comm units and computer terminals go black. The entirety of the Holonet froze within its quantum transmissions. In place of the infinite exchange of data streams, a single video file emerged. It was blurry at first, but the outline sharpened with each passing moment. It was a human male. Shaggy brown hair gave way to a pair of eyes, framed by a scar on the right side of his face that ran the length of eyebrow to jawline. A neatly trimmed beard surrounded a lopsided grin. The face was younger than the life contained within his hazel-gray eyes. The man spoke a single sentence that could be heard just before the video ended.

 

“I am alive.”

 

The transmission lasted for exactly seventeen seconds. In his desperation, Andon influenced the very fabric of creation. His message wasn't merely sent to his own universe, but to every universe within the realm of eternity. His words reached as far as infinity could encompass. It wasn’t just data streams he influenced, it reached further: dreams, thoughts, telepathic messages, every form of intelligent communication was replaced. For that seventeen seconds, across all of time, no other information existed that was not willed by Andon to be known. His message sent a ripple through existence, invoking something primordial that had remained untouched since life began.

 

Within his chrysalis induced slumber, Andon’s right hand stirred in movement for the first time in many years. And deep within the blackest crevice of Creation’s void, something stirred with him.

[Sheog the Mad]

...Of course it’s a damn prince. Only the wealthy have the time to dabble in sorcery or find The Krath to be of particular interest...

 

The Sith girl’s sulphuric eyes narrowed as she observed the droid’s revelations. Reaching out with the Force, she could feel the truth in his words. She was annoyed that she hadn’t thought to check first for such things, but she was young yet in the Force, and was still learning. She nodded and poured a glass of the wine, hoping her host did not care for the drinking laws of the Galactic Core, where she was yet four years from being able to enter a cantina. The label was flashy and covered in golden filigree, the scattered lables fortelling the vintage and age of the wine, which was made from Aderball Fine-Pressed Muja, harvested and hand-squeezed by special-needs prisoners held in the ruins of Dantooine.

 

Hayley brought the crystalline glass to her lips, not realizing it was a high-ball glass and not an appropriate glass for such a fine wine, and breathed in the sweet and sharp aroma. She tipped the glass back, letting the keen edge of the alcohol burn upon her cracked lips, pool over her pink tongue, and blaze down her throat. As she breathed out she pulled the alcohol into purity and set it aflame, letting it swirl around her like twisting vines before it vanished into smokeless light.

 

“My master has bound soul to flesh, entwined in metal, as your… Prince… desires. Eternal Life isn’t all it’s puffed up to be, at some point we all need to be free of these mortal coils."

 

She brought up a hologram displaying the necromanitc battle of her master with the Sith Master Geki, and his experiments in bringing sentiance to the Tuk’ata of Korriban.

 

“There is much to be taught, and much to be explored together.”

 

[Chaotic Tranquility]

"This is excellent news" Milenko's voice booms from no where as a orb flying overhead springs to life a visual full form projection of the Prince, his blue hued hair springing with each of his holographic steps, the cloak adorning his shoulders waving in the transgression of his movement. "But you misunderstand my intent. It isn't eternal life that I seek, but rather the transition of life and death."

 

Despite being a mere hologram of himself, Milenko was quite the formidable being to look upon, even as a Prince. His smirk was devilish, almost child like. But his eyes were empty and cold, hidden behind the tell-tale sign of his Epicanthix heritage. What appeared to be fresh blood still adorned his face and hands, as well as the apron that he held within his hand. Feeling it drizzle down his check, he wipes his face using his gloved hand, taking a moment to taste the blood before giving a dissatisfied look. "Forgive the intrusion. I was just completing another... failed.... experiment when I oversaw the display of your Master's power and overheard your words."

 

"One." Milenko snapped, quickly facing his HRD. "Allow this young lady her run of the ship and anything she pleases..." a wink and a smirk briefly appearing as he noticed the open bottle of wine and glass she had poured as he turned back toward her. " You see, death is a natural experience that one needs to entertain regularly . What I wish for is to experience it and learn from it, to understand it, without the restrictions of his typically permanent grasp."

[Sheog the Mad]

The young teenager jumped as the disembodied voice startled her. Her sulphuric eyes narrowed at the man and his electric-blue hair. He certainly looked princely enough. Being blood-spattered was a nice touch. He reminded her of her master’s crazy friend Terra. She listened to his words carefully, her fingers gripping the glass tightly. When she spoke, her voice was pleasent

 

“Thank you for Hospitality, dear Prince. If you wise experience death, head to Kashyyyk where my Master is raising the dead at the moment.”

 

She activated a live-cam, showing the Mad Hutt’s force-bound husks fighting their former friends. A Force Storm was growing above the camera, a chasm in life itself. Her voice was darker now as she could feel her master's pull. The liquid in the glasses and bottles about them began to ripple, touched by the storm, even across the galaxy.

 

“He is creating a wound in the Force, the echoes of which he hopes will shake the galaxy. Death is but one factor of power.”

 

[Chaotic Tranquility]

"Please... call me Milenko" He said with a hint kinship as he gazed upon the amazing display of power that she shown, and as he closed his eyes briefly, he could almost feel it's pull himself, as if the echos and screams of the dead excited him in his very soul. He breathed in deep before turning back toward the young girl, basking in the turmoil he had just witnessed. "And this is excellent information."

 

Waving off into what seemed the distance out of view, two and three came rushing past him briefly as he appeared to be gathering his things. Within moments, the two other HRDs seem to usher out what appeared to be a dissected body, skin stripped clean, muscles, ligaments, and tendons torn asunder with bones protruding here and there. Looking disgusted, more so that the experiment had failed rather than the body was unrecognizable. "I shall arrive in a few hours mi'lady, and if you want, we shall go see your Master together." Milenko grinned.

 

A couple hours later another small ship arrives, quickly docking. Milenko appears in the flesh, his dark hair and brown eyes meeting the gaze of the young Lady. "Forgive my tardiness, but my work can be rather time consuming. My latest experiment is floating somewhere above Lehon as we speak." He laughed jokingly as he noticed the other ship leaving with Two and Three loading some crates into the cargo hold. "Shall we?" He questions as he pulls up Kashyyyk in the nav computer.

[Ary the Grey]

The cargo barge Aryian and Faux had caught transport on might have been filthy and in need of repair, but if one thing was certain it was definitely spacious. They were set up in one of the medium cargo bays, and strictly told to keep away from the cargo containers (which were security sealed anyways to protect the client's goods as well as the reputation of the crew, apparently a standard practice). What wasn't mentioned was if they could practice shooting a blaster at low levels, and Aryian hadn't exactly asked. The ship was large enough that they were likely to be left alone for quite some time, and the Grey Master would easily feel if one of the crewmen approached.

 

So, practice was on. Aryian activated the training remote, and it hissed through the air behind him in preprogrammed flight patterns as he began speaking.

 

"There are four fundamentals of marksmanship. Steady positioning, proper sight picture and aiming, breathing, and trigger squeeze. For your pistol, you'll want to have your other hand brace your firing hand below the butt of the hand grip to stabilize your shot. Aim down the sights, focus on the front sight and put it in the center of mass of what you're firing at while keeping it aligned with the back sight. Exhale before you fire, this also helps to slow your heart rate so your pulse doesn't affect the shot. And finally, slowly squeeze the trigger until the pistol firing almost surprises you. These are the four fundamentals of marksmanship, master them and you will have a leg up in a firefight. Use the Force to help yourself, if you like, but try to score five hits in a row without relying on it. And take your time, we have a couple hours until we land. If you want, we can make the scenario a bit more realistic when we get to Onderon, I can get us some more training remotes that will fire back and put the pressure on a bit."

 

Aryian leaned against a crate, watching carefully and ensuring her posture was correct when it needed fixing.

[Exodus]

______

 

 

 

The room was black, and the air was brisk with a sinister chill. Flickers of blue and red beamed from a wide row of bacta tanks that lined the hard wall. The medicinal fluid that vacuumed into each container bubbled under the stress of heat and covered the appearance of the bodies that remained inside. There were Wookies inside of them all, their features were hard to mistake, but these were boldly different. These victims had been butchered to their core, mutilated in places that were required for high functionality, and then disturbingly restored. From head to toe, each of them were pulled apart and ordained with complex electrical circuitry that would replace their lost efficiencies. Their tanks were coded shut and chained closed however, except for a single one positioned central to the rest. This one wielded a small child.

 

 

Exodus sat alone, facing the particular container. The umbrella of darkness that blanketed the room, concealed that his flesh and bones levitated a careful few inches from the cold plated floor, legs interweaved meditatively while the black of his robes scraped beneath him. There were no weapons, nor items that were carried with him, but a power oozed from him as he brooded over the room afloat. It was hard to make heads or tails of it, the naked eye would deem it a lie, but how it altered the atmosphere with fright was unmistakable. Dozens of tendrils wormed itself from the Dark Lord, the number of them was hard to pin but their thick inklike reach squirmed forward without restraint. The composition of these ethereal serpents seemed to pour from the black of his clothes, stretching out across the room and crawling over everything in sight. The entire chamber fell into a lull of dark manifestations while Exodus exercised his mind, his closed eyelids bleeding a slow emerald tint.

 

 

• “You’ve slept long enough, child.”

[Faux]

Finding herself aboard a starship for the third time in her life, Faux again found the experience chilling and mesmerizing. Chilling as it was both noticably colder to her on board than planet side, even with the atmospheric conditioners, and at the thought of such a narrow wall of metal protecting her from the vast nothingness of space. Maybe it was because of her recent awakening to the Force, but that nothingness felt so much bigger now. But then again, the absolute clarity of the sea of stars out the viewport always took her breath away faster than any vaccum could.

 

The trip was a relatively short one, no need for quarters, so instead they were given a section of cargo hold to 'exercise' as Aryian had put it to the crew. They didn't seem happy about it, but obliged the two of them just the same. Once they were alone and well on their way, Aryian set the remote to fly about the cargo hold as he went about talking her through her first experience with a blaster. She was keen to listen, but a part of her unconscious mind couldn't help but follow the remote as it flew to and fro.

 

The explaination seemed simple enough. Proper footing to angle the body parallel with the weapon, focus on the target and aligning the two sights, breath control to stablize, and a gentle squeeze of the trigger to avoid pulling the weapon off alignment. These few steps made the blaster sound like the simplest weapon she had ever worked with, but Faux knew that to be a lie. There had to be more to it than these few precepts.

 

So, without much ado, Faux drew her blaster into her left hand and immediately fired a bolt into the floor, nearly dropping it out as her arm jerked away from the suddenness of noise and light. A sideways glance saw Aryian smirking, but wordless in that way he got when he was more interested in her trying than taking her by the hand, so without lingering on the mistake beyond the reddening of her cheeks Faux began to posture her body at a leftward angle, careful to keep her trigger finger resting on the guard until she was ready to fire.

 

Raising the blaster, Faux cupped her right hand under her left and tilted her head slightly to look down the sight. At first she didn't even bother finding the remote in the reticle, instead taking the time to adjust her positioning until it felt more natural. Like everything else worth practicing, the how of it should be understood with methodical patience. Now that her posture felt better, she began to measure her breathing. Even though Aryian wanted her to avoid using the Force to assist her in this task, Faux found it surprisingly difficult to not slip into meditation, her awarenessof the ever present Force becoming a more constant and unconcious thing by the day. Even still, she didn't draw the Force to herself beyond what gravitated to her naturally. This in itself felt like something she needed to practice. Not just how to focus and draw the Force to one's self, but also how to relax and let the unnecessary drift just outside of the conscious mind.

 

She took a few phantom shots in her mind, aiming down the sight and mentally squeezing the trigger in time with her exhale. Now all that was left was to do the real thing. Instinctively she found the remote, buzzing about the cargo bay in a languid but seemingly erratic fashion. Again, another few phantom shots, this time following the remote as it moved about. Then, staying in rhythm, her finger slipped off the guard and onto the trigger, squeezing slowly and softly until she felt it give ever so slightly and a bright red bolt came screaming out.

 

The first shot missed the remote, but just barely. The bolt was fast, but not instantaneous. If she wanted to hit the remote, the shot would have to be a fraction of a second ahead of the remote's path to account for travel time. In that way it was a lot like throwing knives, but much simpler as you didn't have to figure rotations over distance. The second shot, too, missed, as the remote randomly veered off course in the time it took her to slowly squeeze the trigger. If she had just squeezed it a bit faster, maybe...

 

For another half hour she continued to take slow, methodical shots, clipping the remote occassionally or even directly hitting it only to miss the next shot. If she could use the Force she could see how this would be much easier, but Aryian wanted her to learn this skill without the Force's aid. So on and on she kept firing, eventually able to score five successive hits. Good thing, too, because the blaster was nearing its end of ammunition. She brought a few extra cells with her, but didn't want to have to break concentration to reload.

 

"Well, that was both frustrating and fun. I can definately see how useful firearms can be in certain circumstances."

[Ary the Grey]

The Grey master applauded her a bit when she finally made it to five consecutive hits.

 

"They definitely can be. There may be times when your enemies will seek to remove the Force from your arsenal in order to weaken you. There are creatures known as ysalamiri that can naturally 'push back' the influence of the Force. It is a survival technique they evolved into because of their natural predators hunting through the Force. If influenced by one of these creatures, you will neither be able to feel or wield the Force. In fact, it almost feels like being thrown into a cold bath. But, if you focus on perfecting the rote movements, you will find that in the heat of the moment you won't be hindered in the slightest. Blasters and slugthrowers are worth their weight in platinum in such scenarios."

 

Mentally, he checked the current time via his implant. "We still have a bit before we reach Onderon. Relax a bit. You understand the basics and the value behind them, you can practice more later." Aryian sat down against the cargo container he'd been leaning against, yawning. He wanted to nap, but likely wouldn't have the time. They would arrive before he'd get the chance to get some quality shut-eye.

 

((Next post on Onderon))

[Telperiën Ar-Pharazon]

King of Kings!

 

Shouted the spirits, singing songs of brilliance and contrasting shadow in the mind of the young daughter of Ar-Pharazon. The dark serpentine presence of the Dark Lord harried at the edges of her unconscious mind, she pushed against the darkness, attempting to wake against the medically induced coma. The veil was torn away as she finally touched the force and seized upon it like a rope. When she finally did awake, her lids lifted heavily to show the pair of yellow orbs that stared into the emerald slits of the Dark Lord.

 

Bacta and Sith sorcery had worked its magic and had healed her major wounds, regrowing skin and veins, voicebox and trachea. She groaned and struggled to fully awake. Then her eyes focused and returned to their natural purple colour. She coughed and thrashed for a moment before falling silent, looking into the Dark Lord’s eyes.

 

She spoke into the bacta tanks voice system, her voice sounding gravel course as she swam desperately to the surface of the tank.

 

“I am awake master.”

 

She pulled herself bodily from the tank and perched on the top, her bare feet dangling, dripping bacta onto the black flooring.

 

“T-t-thank you for my life, it is yours to command.”

[Exodus]

• “..Child of Ar-Pharazon. I expected more,”

 

 

Exodus taunted, then immersed himself with a deep inhalation. His nostrils scrutinized the medicine in the air, the almost saline texture nourished his senses, those of which were wide-awake and in search of answers that were buried inside the creatures in this room. The eddies of the dark side trifled with his temperament however, tentacles of power coiled all around them, meaning that this unwary child may foolishly intercept one and faint into the afterlife. The tendrils of the dark dissipated into ashen mist, crumbling into powder and evaporating before it could hit the floor. Exodus paid no attention to the child as she crawled from the tank, as disrobed and disoriented and she was. He on the other hand, used his mind to unravel the perfect fold of her tunic, and covered her shame without pause. The tunic shifted over her dampened skin, and her words hiccuped with hesitation afterwards. "Tell me something, Telperiën," His voice reflected with a curious inclination, as if he knew the answer, but desired the way in which she would tell it.

 

 

• "Your father is dead. Your mother has sullied her reputation. Does the Golden bloodline expire with you? A child tossed to her death by an animal? Where are they now?
   
   
  ..Explain yourself."

[Telperiën Ar-Pharazon]

The Dark Lord’s taunt brought up a flash of anger and indignation. Her hands twitched on the edge of the bacta tank, clamping down with anger aided by the force and caused a rivulet or cracks to spread across the expensive tank. Almost instantly she relaxed and let her breathing calm. Ca’Aran had taught her that, and getting angry at people who could easily twitch their finger and blow her heart up in her chest like a grenade was not the key to survival. But she did let the anger course through her enough to clear her soggy mind.

 

Breath in through your nose then breath out through your mouth. Came the strangely soft voice of the clone commando in her mind.

 

Without responding to the taunt she jumped down from the tank to land of the dark floor, she took a towel from a rack, but was surprised when the tunic wrapped itself around her instead. A gift from the Dark Lord it would seem. It was a little big, and meant for a young man but it did its purpose and clothed her nakedness. She picked up her utility belt from where it had been discarded by medical personnel and cinched it tight across her hips. She walked a few short steps until she was a few feet away from Exodus and knelt before the feet of the Dark Lord and answered his query when he had finished it.

“I was birthed a child of two strong bloodlines that have both failed utterly in both their service to the dark side and in acquisition of power. My mother is on Korriban and my biological father lies in the halls of the Helvault. ” It was a harsh thing to admit, but truthfulness would do more here than puffed up pride and lies.

 

“The bloodline will perish with me, discarded and lost to the ash heap of history, unless I can redeem it. That is why I am here my lord, to prove myself. And though I failed on Kashyyyk, I believe that I can serve and redeem myself.”

[Exodus]

• "..I spoke of no failure on your part, young Telperiën, let me be clear. The shame lies with the kin that have failed you."

 

 

There was wild emotion, as usual, buried between the crevices of her conflicted soul. Pride, shame and sadness carried a tune inside of her as well as the mark of countless other volatile influences. With decorum and poise, she braved the waters and found herself in the thick of Kashyyyk with a wound that would end her forever. Exodus knew this, and it was an honor to her will but a stain to those that could not match her initiative. There was no failure, just a lesson to be learned. There were vetted members of the Sith that busied themselves with stagnation and would never serve the potential that this child held inside of her. Exodus offered a small laugh, as he returned his attention to the splintered bacta tank, knowing that such rage could be amplified to great lengths. The other tanks remained full and harbored their sleeping enemies, one-by-one they were ushered in and induced to feverish reveries. "This redemption song played by a great many, grows tiring. You are not them, Telperiën of the Gold. You are far from ordinary." The words of the Spider crawled up her skin, and became unsettling with how real every syllable was.

 

 

• "What you seek, is revenge."

 

 

Exodus stretched out his left arm, and the pressurized door at the end of the room pulled open with a sharp hiss. Dull lighting poured in from the hall, but at the archway, were three bodies. Two of them stood tall and were dressed in an exotic variation of the Sith Trooper raiment. Their faces were covered in the silhouette of their obscured helmets. Both of them seemed to wrestle with the third body, a Wookie bent at the knees. The creatures' powerful arms were locked in chains and solid cuffs. The Wookie had his mouth covered with a simple cloth that tied to the back of his head, but his eyes were unmistakable to someone in particular. The two powerful sentinels of the Sith couriered the enslaved beast in proximity to where the child and the Dark Lord sat. The eyes of the Wookie went unnaturally wide as he noticed all of the rows of his kin that were captured and brutally dismembered for experimentation. He wrestled harder against his captors, but to no avail. There were moans and challenges in the language he spoke, but it was all muffled and incoherent behind the cloth. Once closer, Telperiën would not need eyes to understand who this particular creature was, she would be able to feel what he had done to her and his scent would be fresh beneath her hunger for 'redemption'. "Do not look away Telperiën. Lock eyes with this beast, search out his panic and his anger. Feel it wash over you, then take it from him." Anticipation crawled inside of his voice, Exodus resonated with a powerful charm that would enkindle the fire inside of this Child of the Sith.

 

 

 

• "..Use those teeth, and drink of his miserable fear." Disobedience was not an option.

[Telperiën Ar-Pharazon]

Revenge. That was a word that she had seen embodied in the Ca’Aran’s wroth towards Dathomir, in her own first death at the hands of the nightsisters, it was a word that drove the galaxy into utter chaos. Chaos that could be exploited for power. The claws of the beast were still stained a dark burgundy from Telperiën’s lifeblood. The site of the creature trapped there before her caused a terrible hunger to rend itself in her stomach. The dark lord had spoken truthfully, she did long for it, and when the time was there to strike she took it. If there was such potential in her to gain power, then she would take it. She would use it. So she took the opportunity handed her with both hands.

 

She strode forward on bare feet, leaving a trail of small bacta footprints until she was next the to the restrained wookiee that had been her bane. The wild hunger pulsed with every heartbeat as she stood next to him. She was a small girl, so that even as restrained as he was and kneeling, his face was on the same level as hers. His growl was hoarse and resentful. She knew it carried some meaning in his language but she did not much care. He was a beast and he would act like it. He would know his place.

 

She reached out a small hand and placed it on the dome of his head, rubbing almost gingerly against the black fur.

 

“Good Boy…”

 

She patted away as a manic’s smile replaced her childish features. Her pretty purple eyes replaced with yellow orbs of the sith as she let her spirit fall fully into the arms of the force. The wookiee’s fear permeated the room as she petted his head, she sought it in the force, latching onto it with her mind and tracing it to its source. The trio of primeval fear: servitude, pain, and death. Telperiën leaned ever closer as she began to feed that fear, growing it to overtake everything in the beast, she drank deeply of the fear, letting it through her to feed the darkness in her. Before she knew it, the large wookiee, pride of his clan, was a shivering, begging mess.

 

“Good Boy.” Her voice was sickly sweet, mocking in its childish tones.

 

She drank her fill of fear and decided to feed upon the other elements, driven on by that insatiable hunger of power of the darkside. The muscles on her arms bunched up in taught clusters as she yanked his head up by the scalp, eliciting a pained yelp from the beast. Any doubts in her mind were cleansed by the power she could feel pulsing and pounding through her muscles. And the potential of power, coursing through the wookiee’s veins as well. There was so much power in the force trapped in a single being, ready to be tapped.

 

She lunged forward and bit onto the wookiee’s vulnerable neck, the first bite was tough, she tore through a layer of fur and skin and spat it onto the floor. A move that caused the Sith Troopers to start in alarm, releasing their grip on the beast for long enough for him to attempt an escape. The force kept him in place, he was locked by the power of her mind, a beast to be fed upon. The next bite found his lifeblood and though human teeth were not particularly sharp, the jaw muscles when driven by the force were strong enough to rend any flesh. Blood gushed noisily down her chin, spilling down her neck to coat the white tunic in an ever expanding puddle of blood. The fear and pain that emanated from the wookiee peaked and filled the room like an electric field. Though a quick meal, Telperiën drank her fill of the coppery tasting blood an stepped back. She was coated from head to toe in blood and her body was filled with the force, healing little defects and driving her into euphoria. It was a high that she knew that she would be chasing for the rest of her life.

 

“Good Boy.” her voice was distorted somewhat as she patted the now dead wookiee a last time before kicking the corpse aside. It collapsed in a pile of dead flesh. She turned back to the Dark Lord of the Sith and knelt in the expansive pool of the blood of her victim. “I want more…”

 

But somewhere in the back of her mind the spirits had fled, she was free of her father, of his demons. She was her own being.