Naboo

[Nishant]

Darth Sidus. He knew what it meant, that name. He knew what the word itself meant, he knew what the implication of the name was, he knew also that he had not expected such an immediate naming. He had known a few who had learned as Sith, and had not been named in such a way so soon. It spoke volumes of this man, Ar-Pharazon--to act on a whim, as he said. To do as he wished, whenever, whatever.

 

Choice. It was entirely up to choice. Nishant watched his new master at the center of the brewing Force, and felt the rushing wind--the wind!, pure, free, unencumbered by falsehood and denial--and saw all the rampant colors of the energy building, and felt in that moment that it would not matter what this man did, so long as Nishant could be nearby when such a wonder was occurring.

 

Darth Sidus, he thought. Sidus. This was to be his name. This is what this man would call him. The more he heard it, the stronger the name would resonate.

 

He had not been witness to such a capacity with the Force before as that which he saw in his master, and that alone would bind Nishant to Ar-Pharazon, if nothing else. To act on a whim, to follow instinct, impulse...

 

"So, are there any questions?

 

Oh, there was one thing. There was one thing Nishant had known the moment his tumultuous departure from the Jedi had gripped him, when it was only a notion, when he was lying in his bed in the Praxeum and wondering what to do. There was one thing he had denied for years, been passive towards. He had made it anathema to himself. And now he needed to face it, to act on it, to be with it. He needed to know death.

 

"Yes," he said. "Yes..." He looked at his master's eyes, and saw the unwavering confidence that could be his. "When will you have me kill for you, Master?"

[Lord Ar-Pharazon]

”œI will see what can be done about that,”

[Nishant]

Nishant did as his master said, and walked by Ar-Pharazon, savoring his presence, and out the ruined temple entrance. He saw more than a few citizens nervously prancing about outside, aware something had happened. It was obvious they had been too frightened to enter the temple and find out why the roof had exploded upwards.

 

Even though he had not been here for years, Nishant knew the way quite well. He found it all come back quite readily to his memory, and soon was walking down side streets and back alleys he had often used before. The minutes were rolling by for two reasons. Nishant was wandering around places where children never went, and when he realized this he knew he was doing it because he did not want to kill a child.

 

Who am I to deal out death? It didn't matter what he believed (or didn't) about what would happen after he killed the person. It was a reality that from the moment someone was born, they were already dying. Their growth into mature beings was the path towards death. He had to remember the statue, which had been only a statue. He had to think of the creatures who hunted their prey. No one told them that the death they meted out was wrong.

 

Some part of Nishant had a million arguments for each attempt to justify his upcoming kill. But instead of listening to them, he attacked his own notion of justification. What did he need to justify? He hated morality, it's ridiculous principles of right and wrong all tied up in the pretense of ideals and what-if's. It was a power struggle of law denying the reality of death as a perfectly suitable method of action in life. The point was, again, Nishant was getting tied up in thinking, and not doing.

 

Whatever the outcome of killing, he would still be alive, and would be able to confront whatever arose in him as a result of killing.

 

So it was that a few moments later, one side street was carrying him and his master towards a more mainstream area, when a man stood up and clapped Nishant pleadingly on the shoulder.

 

"Please, sir--"

 

This one.

 

Nishant decided.

 

His knife was in hand before his thoughts could protest, before his conscience could argue, and then his blade was in the man's gut, out, across the man's throat, out, his left arm grabbed the man's right that was flailing around wildly and his knife was through the upper muscle, and out. He watched what had been a begging man sink to the ground of the alley, and Nishant knelt down so he could see the man's eyes more clearly.

 

They stared at him, frightened, uncontrolled, shocked, dying--but Nishant saw no acceptance of death. This man had probably never thought he would die, today, this week, this month, this year. It had never even occurred to him to think about death! The idea made Nishant angry, but he reminded himself that this may not be true. It didn't matter, though. Nishant had killed this man, had taken his life, and he was not sure how he felt.

 

"Hey!"

 

His head turned at the shout, and he saw one of his homeworld's oft-insulted patrol guards stalking preparedly up the alley way towards them, blaster pistol at the ready, aimed at Nishant who was still holding the bloody knife.

 

"Drop it!"

 

Nishant did, and moved his back against the wall beside his kill--he noted that this was how he thought of the man he had killed--as his prey. That was right. Nishant could be a predator, if he wanted to. The only difference between man and beast was man decided to try and make up his own rules. If Nishant decided to kill, and they tried to condemn him--if even his own conscience tried to condemn him, he could accept his actions if he knew himself to be a predator of man.

 

And a predator kills to protect itself, as well.

 

So when the man finally stopped his approach, Nishant's eyes narrowed and his arms rose to the sides as if in surrender, but then his left suddenly twitched forward and the Force acted upon his whim, crushing the man against the wall opposite, pinning him there. Nishant's other hand called the guard's pistol to it, and when he had that in hand he stalked forwards to the man who was even now struggling against a power he couldn't contend with.

 

Sidus placed the blaster to the man's forehead and took another life.

[Lord Ar-Pharazon]

Ar-Pharazon smiled broadly. He handed Darth Sidus a coin and murmured, ”œNow, my apprentice, you have not only slain innocent human life, but have gained monetarily in the process. You have done well, and have earned my approval. However, this was a mere instance.”

[Nishant]

Murder.

 

He had now killed twice, and Nishant was still trying to understand what that meant. But while that young man was busily working away at soulful understanding of death, trying to reconcile murder in some excusable way, Sidus was calling for action. There need not be any excuse. Who did he have to explain himself to? What was there that he could not do? All thing lay within the realm of possibility, so long as he had the will and the skill to enact them. This was the truth of action. Temperance could come when his experience had already embraced action. Temperance before the experience of action would constantly limit him to "what-if".

 

That was not Life.

 

Sidus turned without a word, medallion in hand, and while he was walking he was considering his master's desire. The medallion in hand was heavy, but not enough to cause damage on its own; not death-dealing damage. It was not designed as a weapon; but Sidus could use it as such. He had the Force, and it was time to learn how to utilize that in combat.

 

His master demanded aggression--that thing he had not embraced since childhood. Even in his first dealing of death, he had been told his killing had been reserved. That he needed to learn about the farthest reaches of the whim, of the wanton. It would likely take years to understand death, but he was already willing to kill.

 

If he could kill two people, why could he not kill dozens? Why was numbers an issue? The only argument against murder lay with a moral compass Sidus only wanted to discard. Morality did not dictate whether he chose to be kind or cruel. Such things were enacted by choice, determined by relationship and circumstance. Sidus was ready to discard morality entirely.

 

He had a fanciful idea that the most flamboyantly aggressive thing he could do right now would be to walk into a crowded square and deal out death under the sun. He supposed that this would have to do, as nothing else was coming to mind. His master would give him many opportunities to increase his imagination, Sidus supposed.

 

So he did just that. He stepped into the main street away from the alley, and followed it to a small square, where a consistently interchanging bustle of people milled about. Sidus stopped, and looked down at the medallion in his hand. He gripped only one side of it, and drew the Force to the construct, to the metal, to his hand. He knew that the power flowing into his arm, into his hand, into the medallion now, could crush bone. This was what he desired.

 

He breathed in. He breathed out. He turned his eyes to the left and picked the first man passing by. It was almost as if he watched his arm cracking out like a whip, knocking the man on the side of the head, hearing the crunch of bone and feeling the quick spray of blood against his hand and sleeve.

 

One man down, and immediate panic around him.

 

There was a flash of horrified indignation somewhere inside him, but he breathed it away, and its departure brought a snarling sound out of him as he stepped over the body and smacked the medallion through the jaw of another passerby. He realized after a moment that he hadn't actually killed that man, and he gave him another knock to the forehead that dropped him crumpled to the ground.

 

By now people were running, though there was enough of a crowd that many beyond the sight of heads and shoulders couldn't see what was going on, and were apprehensive and static and still--as prey should be. Sidus saw a look of disgusted horror on one nearby woman's face, and because he couldn't bear to look at that expression he cracked her right through the bridge of the nose and dropped another body to the ground.

 

But his master had demanded something over the top, a true predatory aggression. Three dead bodies wouldn't satisfy him. He had never tried this before, but he had a sudden notion that he could do it, and after he cracked one more skull he cast a sudden impression into the several most immediate minds around him that he was not here, that they had not, could not, see him. He did this for a few feet as he walked, as he sifted into the crowd that, having noticed there was no attacker present, were yelling and converging on the four skull-smashed bodies near the edge of the square.

 

After several feet Sidus stopped messing with nearby perspectives, and hid his bloodied sleeve behind his back and low down, and made his careful, methodical way to the other side of the square. More guards would come to the scene of murder. On his way to the opposite edge, however, he found himself stuck between three people, one a rather fat man, and he got weirdly exhausted of waiting, so he cracked in the knee of the fat man with a sickening snap-sound, reached up with both hands as he fell and turned his head so fast the death-sound of his neck snapping went by almost unheard.

 

Then it was a matter of swiftly cleaving to the right through a man and a woman and he was at the right edge, but by now people had noticed him explicitly and were running. Screams were pitched, people were bolting, children were being hoisted and carried away--no one was attempting to be a hero. Sidus watched as several people were trampled underfoot, and realized there had to be several dozen people in the square. Off to his right, he saw a spacer running backwards away from him in the crowd, obviously eyeing him warily, fearful but without the manic desire to outright flee that had possessed everyone else.

 

The spacer was wearing a jet pack.

 

So, Sidus began to walk towards him, and the moment the man realized he was being stalked, he turned and his speed markedly increased. But he was an idiot, because Sidus sent a Force-propelled medallion screaming straight through his gas-fueled jet pack. It was likely the man's spine was split, but Sidus never got to see the man fall, because the jet pack erupted, and in that small explosion he knew he'd burnt at least a dozen of these scattering blades of grass.

 

There was a wide circle about him now, and Sidus could hear shouts of guards. He couldn't remember if his homeworld employed droids, either. He turned, sought his master, and was about to ask what they would do about the encroaching authority when he realized his master may have wanted more of him than this. So, instead, Sidus simply waited and rested his eyes on the presence of Ar-Pharazon, while blood dripped gently from his fingertips.

[Lord Ar-Pharazon]

Ar-Pharazon nodded calmly, yellow eyes serene. ”œNaboo is a better place for having had your cleansing within its fair capital city. After all, you did not slay anyone of consequence. Trash, all of them. Beggars for gold and citizens without purpose, pedestrians, wastrels. Scum. However, we must avoid attention. There will no doubt be some sort of formal response from the authorities. Let's find out, but away from here.”

[Nishant]

When Sidus watched his master so quickly dispose of the old man, in his mind flashed the images of children. Doubtless, his master would have noted that he had killed no children, even among all those that had died today. Granted, they had not been many, but they had been within the potential arc of death. Sidus knew that one day his master would require this of him, in all likelihood. He hoped that, by the time it was required, he would have no issue with it.

 

It was remarkable, how quickly he had fully assumed the desire to carry out his master's will and whim. He had not possessed such a feverish, sudden loyalty since his very first teacher, as a child. Logic, in Sidus, reminded him not to trust; no, he did not trust Ar-Pharazon. He never could, he never would. But this man was his teacher, and if for no other reason than that and the reality that Sidus would die if he proved without use, he was dedicated to enacting his master's wishes.

 

"It feels..." He remembered his hasty embrace of murder in the crowd, the fat man falling beneath his eagerly rushing hand. "I like it. No, this is nothing like the Jedi. I find them all afraid of death. They will boast of not being afraid to die, perhaps, but how can you not be afraid to die if you are afraid to kill? All they have done is to place useless limitations on their own capacity, because of a flawed sense of right and wrong. Thank you for breaking this, my master."

[Cas Holloway]

A CoreSec shuttle, responding to the urgent request of the queen of Naboo, arrives over the shining blue and green world. They request clearance to land and are given it immediately. The whole planet is on alert; they know that the man who was responsible for the recent massacre is most likely here.

 

Cas landed the shuttle in the public landing zone of Theed, close to where Ar-Pharazon's ship was spotted. He nodded to Kirlocca and headed out. They needed to confirm that it was indeed Ar-Pharazon's ship. He had filled Kirlocca in on the way, and now only needed to make sure that Fett and Mirdala were also on the same page.

 

He wished Armiena was there. He hadn't realized that he had gotten used to working with her.

[Lord Ar-Pharazon]

Strangely, Ar-Pharazon felt a tremor in the Force. Something was not right and it outweighed the serious excitement of seeing his young apprentice extinguish lives. Peculiar indeed. The sensation lasted only a moment and passed.

 

”œMarvelously well done, Darth Sidus. You are most welcome.”

[Nishant]

Sidus recalled his earlier training, under Kirlocca. "Training sabers, only, master," he said. "I was relatively near to crafting a lightsaber with the Jedi, out of necessity, even though I had not trained with one." Despite this, and the unmentioned reality that he had not partaken as much as he should have of the training exercises, he knew he could learn this quickly. Despite not being implied in Ar-Pharazon's question, Sidus spoke next of his other training, to be clear with the master.

 

"I am proficient unarmed and with blades, however. At present, though, I have only a knife with me."

 

As he had not predicted this turn of events, he had not collected more before he departed the Praxeum. He supposed it didn't much matter. His master would not have asked the question if he had known the answer, and if he wanted it done, Sidus would craft or train with or find a lightsaber at next moment's notice.

[Moon Knight]

Shortly after the CoreSec shuttle arrived from Coruscant, so did the Rangir, an older but reliable Firespray-class vessel, and it descended toward the same public landing area that Holloway had chosen. They landed in the same area, but not immediately adjacent, deciding to tuck themselves away just a bit so that they didn't draw too much attention to themselves. Naboo was not a world under CoreSec's protection, and though they had the right to operate here with the Queen's permission, the last thing they wanted was to scare their dar'jetii quarry off when he saw these vessels.

 

ShadowFett, fully armored and armored, his beskar'gam not a common sight on a peaceful world like Naboo, paused before lowering the boarding ramp and turned to Mirdala. He pushed away from his mind any compunctions he had about bringing her into combat before she was back to 100%. She was mandokarla, and Ar-Pharazon would be outmatched. Honestly, Fett wanted to take him by himself, but bringing extra odds in their favor was still preferable. "Best stick to a sniper rifle and hukaat'kama, Mirdala," he suggested. He stepped up to her and touched his buy'ce briefly to hers. "K'oyacyi."

 

Then he hit the boarding ramp and descended onto the sunlit landing pad, a transition made easier by his buy'ce. He immediately started to head over to where Holloway had set down, and he was pleased to confirm that Kirlocca had come along for the mission. The jetii was a tremendous warrior, and it was always nice to bring along a Master to bring in such a man as this.

 

Ar-Pharazon. Moon Knight had been waiting a long time to get another shot at this demagol.

 

Approaching the two of them, Mand'alor spoke. "Let's locate his ship and stake it out. Unless you are able to locate him in the Force, Master Kirlocca?" He didn't stand too close to the wookiee, for he was carrying an ysalamir. It was always delicate, protecting himself from the Force while his ally wielded it. But they had worked together for several missions, and Fett had a pretty good feel for the range of the bubble.

[Mirdala Ad'Goran]

Once they'd gotten underway towards Naboo, she'd left the piloting to the navi-computer and had taken to the meditative task of cleaning and prepping every weapon that she'd had on board. It helped focus her mind on the current mission and temporarily drove the nightmarish past two weeks away from her thoughts. She'd already collapsed her modified shattergun for discrete transit and was also wearing a long burgundy coat over her beskar'gam to better blend in on the peaceful world, but for the time being was still wearing her buy'ce, at least for now.

 

”œMeh gar kyrayc, shuk bah ni Kand'ika,”

[Wookiee Jedi]

Almost upon entering the main city, Kirlocca could feel the strong waves of the Dark Side of the Force echo. They held a familiar presence, but much like he was sure Ar-Pharazon could feel him, he had withdrawn his own presence upon even entering the system for the element of surprise. And much to his own relief, both Mirdala and Fett were present for this mission. Kirlocca had worked with both of them during his time with the Augury, more of Fett than Mirdala, but it did give an advantage to them in working together. It was Cas Holloway who might bring a slight disadvantage, if any at all. Responding to the comment directed at him, he spoke and allowed for 41D to translate, although he was sure that everyone present understood him anyways.

 

<< Its good to see you as well Mirdala. Fett, I can sense him out, or at least feel a general direction. Although, since we entered the system, I withdrew my presence so that I wouldn't tip to him that we were here. And that does limit my ability to use other aspects of the Force. >>

 

Honesty worked best while working with Fett. He was a planner, and the more information he knew, the more he could plan around things that would hamper the overall success of the mission. He also took notice that Mirdala would be sniper support from the looks of it. Something that could come to an advantage.

[Lord Ar-Pharazon]

Ar-Pharazon drummed his fingers on the high arms of a chair, thinking aloud. ”œA knife? Yes, that is a fine weapon. In due time, we shall construct your lightsaber. It is an essential for a Sith. And tell me this? Who was your Jedi Master? Was it Kitt Fitt, whom I murdered earlier this year? How about Scorp Ession, who was slain by me on Coruscant recently? Or was it that perpetual nonstarter Kirlocca? You might not know about the Wookiee Jedi. Let me tell you about him. Although my time allotted here can't possibly suffice to elaborate in detail on the long list of Kirlocca's lackadaisical endeavors””including the saturnine, the bad-tempered, the small-minded, and especially the salacious””I'll use what little time I have to embark on further elaboration. Before I begin, let me point out that Kirlocca is a meddlesome liar. Let's list some of Kirlocca's more abusive lies: First, he claims that his precepts are good for the galaxy, human rights, and wookiees. Second, he insists that he acts in the name of equality and social justice. And third, he wants us to believe that anyone who disagrees with him is a potential terrorist. I presented that list to get you to see that my time remaining will not suffice even to enumerate the ways in which Kirlocca has tried to seek vengeance on those unrepentant souls who persist in challenging his tricks. From his ivory tower on Gala, he says that all minorities are poor, stupid ghetto trash. Now stay with me a moment here; I am making a point. While Kirlocca's semi-literate ramblings might be of some interest to specialists in child communication, one needs to realize that his codices are based on a denial of reality, on the substitution of a deliberately falsified picture of the world in place of reality. And this dishonesty, this refusal to admit the truth, will have some very serious consequences for all of us quicker than you can double-check the spelling of "interdifferentiation". To put it crudely, his lies come in many forms. Some of his lies are in the form of recommendations. Others are in the form of analects. Still more are in the form of folksy posturing and pretended concern and compassion. If he was indeed your master, then I have more ahead of me than I initially thought.

 

Anyone who hasn't been living in a cave with his eyes shut and his ears plugged knows that Kirlocca should stop caterwauling about what he doesn't understand. As everyone knows, Kirlocca simply wants to win at all costs the war against our Force individualism and our liberties. What you might not know, however, is that he likes to imply that the rules don't apply to him. In time that accusation will make perfect sense. Trust me on that. Also, trust me on this too. The key point here is that the Jedi's daft, fatuous game of chess””the unreasonable chess of masochism””has continued for far too long. It's time to checkmate this blinkered skiver and show it that I have in fact told it that the general public is finally starting to become aware of its duplicity and complicity. The Jedi has vanity without pride, voluptuousness without taste, and learning without wisdom. I won't dwell on that except to direct your attention to the garrulous manner in which it has been trying to create an atmosphere of mistrust in which speculations and rumors gain the appearance of viability and compete openly with more carefully considered theories. The Jedi Order is known for fabricating evidence. What you might not know, however, is that it is capable of only two things, namely whining and underhanded tricks.”

[Nishant]

Sidus paid careful attention, now that his master was speaking at length. He noted in particular several statements his master made. Firstly, that Kirlocca (and by implication, the Jedi Order at large) perceived based on a substitution of a deliberately falsified picture of the world in place of reality. His master was speaking of the Grandmaster of the Jedi Order, whose direction would lead the action of much of the rest of the Jedi, and whose denial would color their perspectives.

 

Secondly, CoreSec. Sidus knew of them, and considering his newfound trust in his own hatred of all things lawful, or the very idea that law could rule what cannot be ruled, he had no trouble falling into line with his master's thinking here. The idea of law was, in Sidus perspective, in and of itself a denial of the reality that anything, anywhere, at anytime, could occur. It was the ridiculous propensity for people to concoct a moral argument that set the basis for law, and Ar-Pharazon's words intensified a burgeoning disgust in Sidus, for this law-enforcing organization.

 

"Yes, Master. Kirlocca instructed me with other beginners, on the basics of the Force and the basics of the lightsaber. My master for a short time after that was Skye Organa, the healer, though I was also in the company of Darex Trevelian and his woman, whose name I think was Darla." He left Emily out, purposefully. She was not a Jedi, so far as he knew, now. "Skye was the herald of compassion and passivity, and what I saw of Darex was a man out of touch with his own emotions. I believed differently then. Not any more."

[Lord Ar-Pharazon]

”œSkye Organa?”

[Moon Knight]

ShadowFett weighed their options, then made a decision, since Holloway didn't seem to be taking any action. The Arkanian was no doubt a good cop with a long service record, but the Mando'ad was the combat expert and he knew what it took to bring a dar'jetii down. "I'd rather he not find out that we're here," he told Kirlocca. "Let's not take any chances and stake out his ship instead of hunting him down."

 

Besides, it meant that they would be fighting on their terms, and that was a huge step in the right direction. Fett uplinked to 2277, his beskar'ad, despite the distance, using the Rangir as a waypoint for the transmissions to get the extra range. The droid gave him a description of Ar-Pharazon's ship, apparently named the Dreadfully Unpleasant and Very Unholy Chariot of Unwarranted Suffering, a name that was too much of a mouthful for Fett to ever utter and yet perfectly fitting with Ar-Pharazon's reputation. Moving around the public landing pad, his beskar'gam getting a few nervous glances from civilian passersby, he quickly located the vessel, distinguished by the fact that it was decorated with real skulls. The ship was larger than a Corellian light freighter and probably extremely well-armed.

 

Although Fett located the ship, he didn't approach it. One potential problem with fighting near an opponent's ship was that, if it was outfitted with AI or could follow remote commands, it could bring tremendous firepower to bear in the middle of a fight. No, simply knowing its location was sufficient. Mand'alor turned to the others that had come. "Let's set up a perimeter, not too close to the ship lest it interfere with the fight," he said. He looked at Mirdala. "Lieutenant, find a perch." There were even a few buildings in the area that she could use as she pleased, depending on how far away she wanted to be.

 

As for himself, Moon Knight wanted to take no chances. As he walked away from the group, he put away his assault rifle in exchange for his disruptor rifle, a weapon that Holloway probably didn't know he owned--and that was for the best, as the weapons were illegal. The ori'ramikad didn't care about regulations, and this weapon was devastating against dar'jetiise, as their lightsabers were useless to stop the bolts, which arrived instantly on-target. It would be even more to Fett's advantage because he had an ysalamir, and Ar-Pharazon would not be able to detect his hostile intent and thus anticipate the attack.

 

Taking cover beneath another vessel with Ar-Pharazon's ship just in sight, ShadowFett hunkered down to await his foe's arrival, keeping his eyes alert through the 360-degree vision afforded by his buy'ce. Hopefully, the dar'jetii wouldn't even know what had hit him.

[Nishant]

His master was drawing him deeper with every word. His depiction of Skye's actions, and the reality of what those actions meant, and the consequences of them, attached so effortlessly to his own experiences with the Jedi Master, that Sidus had not a single moment where the transition to viewing Skye's position as somehow inferior wasn't seamless.

 

It helped his master's depiction immensely when the topic of "rules" was once again brought into play. Reactionary hell.

 

"It has been several years since I was here last, but there is an expensive cantina that made a nice spectacle of their floating blue lights, somewhere nearby."

 

As his master got up and skinned the old man's body with hardly a gesture, Sidus searched briefly for a new tunic, slightly nicer than the ruddy (and now bloody) one he was wearing. He shrugged it on, belted it, and slipped his knife through the back of the belt. Knowing his master would likely confront this if he did not do something about it, Sidus also raided a pair of boots, then turned back to his master and said,

 

"In fact, I believe they were rather unoriginal in their naming it Blue, though it was popular enough then that I think it may still be around."

[Lord Ar-Pharazon]

OOC: Sorry this is so short, but I have a big school project today.

 

IC:Ar-Pharazon laughed. ”œOh, yes, that place. I actually attacked it, not too long ago, with some Black Sun Agents. If I even go close to that place, it may very well stir up some trouble. So, I had better use a Force mask again.”

[Mirdala Ad'Goran]

Mirdala nodded once at Fett, trying to ignore the growing knot in her stomach as she removed her buy'ce, placing it in her pack, and melted into the crowds milling about the spaceport and commerce area. Her expertise had always been how to blend in with the crowds, disguise and misdirection. With her beskar plates safely hidden beneath her burgundy overcoat, she looked like so many of the other travelers with their various packs and bags. She kept near the space port and monitored Fett's position via her implant to best coordinate with the positions that he and the others took up.

 

No one paid the lone, weary traveler any mind as they were all busy with their own business. No one noticed her slip into a side alley and stealthily gain access to the back door of one of the nearby buildings that had a roof with a clear view of Ar-Pharazon's ship. She'd checked the interior of the building and was surprised to find it abandoned after scanning it with her penetrating radar. Each floor and room was carefully checked to make sure there was no one hiding before she proceeded to the roof with her set up. She also placed hidden sensors along her route and in a few of the rooms to alert her if anyone else came back to the building.

 

The Naboo's affinity for architectural embellishment was something Mirdala never really understood, but at least she could find some practical use for it as cover and camouflage. She examined the angles, wind measurements, so she could run ballistics calculations as she ran through various scenarios in her mind and planned for each as she moved some boxes to help conceal her position under one of the building's decorative overhangs. Her set up complete, she slipped her buy'ce back on and assembled her weapon, checking her sights through the scope and waited.

 

She quieted her mind by repeating over and over again in her mind a childhood rhyme all Mando'ad were taught as ad'ikase ”“ Ba'jur, beskar'gam, ara'nov, aliit, Mando'a bal Mand'alor ”“ an vencuyan mhi. It helped her to focus and strengthen her own mind.

[Cas Holloway]

Fett immediately started issuing orders. While this was technically Cas' mission, he didn't mind. His fellow commissioner had much more knowledge and experience when it came to hunting Sith. The Arkanian had never yet run across them.

 

The three agents that had come with them nodded in response to Fett's order and began to set up the perimeter. They were skilled enough to blend in with the crowd and get to advantageous positions. As the group scattered, Cas hoisted the ysalamiri frame onto his shoulders. It was burdensome, but it might give them the edge against the Sith. He trekked to the other side of the landing area, giving the Sith's ship quite a wide berth.

 

He settled down behind some crates and double checked that his weapons were all on stun. He also checked his grenades. They weren't always useful in a situation like this--especially since he knew Force users could chuck them right back in his direction--but there might be an opportunity to use them, even if it was against the ship itself.

 

Then the Arkanian settled down to wait. When Ar-Pharazon arrived, they would be able to catch him in a crossfire. Cas just hoped it would be enough. He tried to squash his apprehensions about this mission. It had to be done. Even if he felt like he was out of his league, he would still do his duty to bring justice to those murdered on this idyllic planet.

[Nishant]

Sidus moved to the doorway as his master's appearance changed, and then they were out in the street and moving through the sifting people. He heard, as they walked, tense words between passersby about some sudden murdering. The number of victims kept shifting each time Sidus overheard the interactions.

 

It brought him some kind of a satisfaction. He recalled only recently being on the opposite end of this stick, being amongst those that had no other choice but to whisper between one another about the "happenings" of their city, their world, their galaxy. But those happenings happened because of the actions of others, people who chose to do. Now he had chosen the other way, and he supposed he liked it.

 

As they neared their chosen destination, Sidus asked Ar-Pharazon, "Master, how is it that you've done this?" and he gestured at his master's figure. "To change the form you take...is this physical, or illusion?"

[Lord Ar-Pharazon]

”œThe technique can be either physical or illusionary.”

[Nishant]

Sidus listened, enrapt. As he watched his master controlling his illusion, he felt the technique in alls its nuances. It was rolling over him from his master's use like ripples of knowledge, and Sidus found his hands flexing slightly in eagerness. It seemed such a simple power to his master, but Sidus itched to try it. It was steps above what he had done in the courtyard before, the simple turning away of citizens' minds.

 

For now, he did as his master bade, and led the way to the cantina he had earlier noted. As he entered, he motioned for a table towards the side and back, with full view of the cantina's two entrances, but away from both. He sat, but gave his master the side of the table with the better view of these entrances and the barkeep, as he assumed would be to his master's (and his own) benefit.

 

He ordered two drinks, and as they waited for them he asked, "Master, earlier you spoke of several Jedi you have fought and defeated. How long have you been capable of doing this? I mean, how long have you been a Sith?"

[Lord Ar-Pharazon]

Two frothy ales finally arrived, which was a good thing indeed. Ar-Pharazon raised his glass and took a drink. ”œTen years,”

[Karys Narat iv-Adas]

Darkness came to Naboo...at least that was what most would use to describe who was coming.

 

Finally the sith lord Lucifer had arrived albiet none would know he was here accept those he wished to know. Instantly he set about hiding his signiture in the force via the age old practice of Quey'tek masking his alignment and signiture and thus concealed himself from any who would want to interfere in his business. None here knew him so far as he knew other than Lord Ar-Pharazon himself so he had an advantage.

 

The Black Heart now temporarily renamed Tempestes and using a 'borrowed' transponder number from a similar ship entered the space around Naboo, as was common he was met by the voice of the air control who wished to know why he was here and all the usual enquiries...albiet it appeared security was slightly tighter for some reason.

 

Eventually he was granted access and it seemed that his trip to Outer Heaven was not a waste of his time afterall. So far as Naboo security were aware he was but another civilian here to enjoy the sights of what remained of Theed after the aftermath of Ar-Pharazon's rampage. Landing on one of the public landing pads that was furthest from Ar-Pharazon's ship. The kiffar sith doned attire familiar with a war veteran to account and cover for his many scars...a fitting disguise considering he could well be considered a war veteran anyway having survived the war and been present at the Death Star battle that decided the fate of the GA and Empire...that was until a wretched scum outwitted him and subsequantely ended his life as a smudge on his ship's hull.

 

If anyone questioned him he would simply use his alias...Draco Vaanas unless of course they happened to be Ar-Pharazon for whom was the reason he was here. Stepping outside his ship Lucifer made sure it was secured and the security systems were active as he closed the exit ramp and headed into the city however he briefly turned his robotic eye to zoom into the far landing pad where there appeared to be a group gathered around a rather grotesque looking ship....it was pretty obvious it belonged to Ar-Pharazon simply due to the fact there were real skulls imbedded into it, it appeared to fit his personality alright. The thermo vision of his robotic eye detected an unusual amount of thermal signatures in the area indicative of something happening...to his mind it could be either one of two things. Either someone was waiting for Ar-Pharazon or there were simply alot of tech's in the area refueling the ship.

 

Turning himself the sith lord walked the opposite direction and headed deep into the city away from the commotion, he started investigating a few of the stores.

 

Sending a messsage via his com-unit the kiffar sith let Ar-Pharazon know he was here and questioned where he would like to meet to sort this business. He figured while he was at it perhaps he would give a heads up so to speak and re-affirm his loyalty just in case it did turn out to be a threat.

 

''Lord Ar-Pharazon it's Lord Lucifer. I have arrived and wish to enquire where would be the most opportune location for which to begin this exchange. Oh and another thing I think someone might know your here either that or ther eis simply alot more tech's around your ship for some apparent reason, I have the distinct feeling the ship with the skulls I saw belongs to you...if so it appears that my thermo vision indicates there is alot of unusual activity nearby.''

 

After it was sent the kiffar decided to have a little more of a wander and walked around. Most tended to avoid him simply due to the way he looked alone...the scars told tales however due to the Quey'tek he was applying none knew who he really was...or rather what he was. Stepping down a alley he came out into a square and to the sight of death, it appeared Ar-Pharazon had already been through here, the kiffar stepped back into the alley quickly and walked the way he came before making a turn down another alley among several buiildings and worked his way through the cluster.

 

It appeared today was not his day as what appeared to be nothing more than a petty thug decided he would pull a knife on the kiffar and demand money...it was the biggest mistake he could ever make. Before he even knew what hit him the man found himself with the kiffar's hands around his neck and his head suddenly jerk sideways in a awkward angle resulting in his premature death. Lucifer quickly vacated the alley and into another of the main streets following the crowd through to some of the more obscure shops and stores.

 

Edit: Made a slight edit after discussion with those involved however the bulk of it is the same as before.

Edited November 11, 2011 by Guest

[Raven37]

Drake felt his masters presence on Naboo and he smiled to himself. He quickly rose from his bunk and headed to the cockpit of his ship and picked up his comlink and exited The Black Raven swiftly making his way into the city. He drew on the Force to bolster his muscles and his mind and he shot through the crowded streets. His energy had vanished which meant He didnt wish to be found by any other Force sensitive beings. Instead he got on his comlink and sent him a message. He spotted a body laying in an ally the neck bent at an odd angle, and he moved quickly down the ally. A good distance ahead of him he saw Lucifer moving quietly through the crowd and he followed. As he drew closer he slowed down to a brisk walk and followed Him through an empty ally way still keeping his distance.

 

He had no doubts that Lucifer already knew he was there so he didn't get any closer and didn't announce his presence instead he just followed at a distance while Lucifer would lead him through the crowded streets.

[Nishant]

(Sorry, been having a rough week.)

 

Sidus listened, thinking that his master was criticizing his own order for, more or less, behaving like Jedi. At least, in the sense that it seemed he was saying they were not active enough, not decisive enough, perhaps; no longer unpredictable, maybe? Sidus had no idea. He had only met two Sith before Ar-Pharazon, one of whom had been a friend, and the other, who was highly unpredictable. After all, Furion had assaulted him in the middle of the Praxeum gardens. Sidus hadn't even known he was there.

 

Well, he wasn't counting his journey to the Sith Temple, and his brief acquaintances there. He wasn't counting them on purpose, for himself. Because they didn't matter to him, any longer. At least, not now. But he found himself curious about where they would be going, where they would be training. "Master," he said, "Will I train on Coruscant? Or will I follow where you go?" He thought it likely that the latter might occur regardless of where they trained, and his questions, in retrospect, were just to learn more. He simply wished to delve, and delve deeply. But then, like his master said, he must also act. Ten years, his master had been with the Sith. Ten years, and an untold mastery.

[Karys Narat iv-Adas]

Lucifer recieved the com message and after looking at it briefly became aware that his apprentice Drake (Raven37) was behind him a short distance.

 

The kiffar briefly stopped and turned his head to look at Drake a little as he allowed him to catch up. When the two were next to each other he had little doubt the apprentic ewould take note of the difference of appearance the sith currently had in that he was wearing clothing more akin to a veteran of the war just trying to get by albiet underneath he wore his normal armor.

 

He spoke almost as a whisper as to avoid suspicion from the crowd walking around them as he greeted Drake. Soon enough he walked away from the main crowd and happened upon a remote garden among the buildings...one of many such gardens in Theed, it was here that he could speak more...openly so to speak.

 

It was here that he spoke more loudly albeit not so loud as to agrner attention from anyone who happened to stroll by.

 

''Ah my apprentice...Drake. Your last report was satisfactory however we have other business to attend to now. We are to meet Lord Ar-Pharazon again to acquire the item we require to implicate CoreSec and the Jedi as per the plan.

 

I believe it time you relinquish your old name and gan your true name....a name fitting of a sith. For as a sith you if you are to be feared and respected you must have name that speaks for you, a name that would remove you of your past life and speak only of your sith life and of the fate that would await those who betray you. My apprentice, from this day forth you are Drake no longer...you are reborn Darth Muerte, in my presence I will call you by this name and you will learn to remember it.

 

For it is more than a name...among the sith such a name speaks much of the man who wields it. The meaning of the name is that of 'death' and speaks of what would happen should any cross you. Now come Lord Muerte let's see what lies before us.

 

Use what I taught you of the technique of Quey'tek and conceal your presence entirely in the force to be as a void just as I have. None must know we are here...at least not yet.''

 

With that the kiffar walked from the garden still using Quey'tek to conceal himself as a void in the force. Any who would attempt to search would find nothing.

[Raven37]

Drake nodded and implied the technique that his master had taught him what seemed ages ago. He was no master in Quey'tek and he was sure that he could be found if someone was really searching specifically for him but to those simply looking for force sensitive beings he was all but invisible. Then the newly named Darth Muerte fell in step beside his master.

 

Drake had no doubt there would be bloodshed soon and as he walked he checked his weapons thoroughly. He had his two disrupter pistols holstered at his sides and concealed in each of his four gloves was a vibro punch-blade which quickly extended out to a length of eight inches before withdrawing back into its hidden sheathe. A small frown creased Drake's forehead, he should have brought a vibrosword. If a close quarter fight did occur he would have to rely on Teras Kasi, hidden vibro blades, and the Force. Maybe Lucifer will give me a sword when the battle approaches Drake thought to himself. He then pushed such thoughts out of his mind and followed his master quietly .