Kamino

[Exodus]

A medium of power, a channel of clout, the exactness of resolution was what he was be classified as. It was gratifying that this one had thought of Exodus as a pinnacle of intensity, not that he didn't deserve it, but the fact that his constant undervalued outlook tended to offend him did not help the issue.

 

Still, the task would be harder than it seemed and the amount of control would be found in no better person than Exodus himself. He was perfect for the situation, as concentration was a discipline to him. As suggested, the Sith Master would slowly lower himself onto the padded mat below him and once again plunge into a deep reverie.

 

True to form, the thought of the weapon crossed his mind. Countless souls, begging and pleading to be released from their incarcerated realm, weeping for the attention of those who could perhaps put them to a final rest; Exodus cracked a smile. It was that ruthlessness about him that forced hilarity in all of this, binding the feeble essences of those into a single contraption in order to reap further captives, such a devious instrument.

 

In the face of it all, Exodus descended further in his concentrative bearing, escaping the ever so boring reality and grasping something far more incomprehensible. The chains of surrealism bind themselves to his aggressive nature, it was almost as if it were a battle of control; mind over matter. This would be his turning point.

[Oblivion]

The sensible smell of the burning hot embers engulfing the metal alloid festered in his nostrils, having been so close to the exposed flame that it brought extreme heat surging through his body, skin glowing as his eyes stared deep into the recessive acidic pools. This was all necessary, for he, the master of his craft, to connect beyond that of the former bond metal served the forger. The dark elements granted gifts of sight beyond matter, sight that could be honed into one without life and grant it that very element.

 

His eyes rolled back, lids folding over them as he did so, spreading his arms to the side and breathing in the toxicating smells that wafted up around him, surronded his body, began to spiral around his form. After an hour of processing and connecting with the liquified material, a single ladle stretched down into the flame, bringing out a drought of the coarse metal to fall upon a single steel plate. The process repeated until the sheet became a layer made by the trillium alloy, one of the finest materials to be harvested by his kind and his signature mineral.

 

Delicate coating was done as, with one hammer, began to fold the large piece into finer, thicker lines. Bending it back and forth by his toned arms, fiercly pounding against the surface again and again, the end result being the finished structure. After it had cooled considerably, yet still sorching to the touch, the Sith Lord ignored such senories as pain and grasped its handle, forging flesh with raw metal, using a rotating casted wheel to sharpen the end of long blade, a fair four feet alone with exception of the handle which mounted it.

 

The leftover eye, unprocessed by the rotting slave, had been tightly sealed to middle of the widest part of the handle, forged by the same alchemic properties as he done for his partner before. Their weapons would be strikingly superior to all, with the same intimidating resemblance as the tortured mattered eyes which acted as the a third eye to the darkness, when their senses alone could only absorb so much.

 

While this was undoubtably a masterful blade, it was a mere shell for the power that was to be forged from this. The real process began with the laborous effort of creating chalk symbols along the ground, illuminating candles around the seven edges until the wicked pattern had been completed, the blade thrusted into the ground at the very center of it.

 

”œNow..”

[Exodus]

”œThe eyes are the gateway to the soul, Imagination is the eye of the soul.”

[Oblivion]

Sensing the turblent dark forces confind the area where the ritual took place, Oblivion rested upon one knee, arms held out, eyes closed to concentrate on to complete the final mantras commited to the act of molding souls within the weapon. They were no ordinary souls at that; harvested from the Nhagathul campaigns, one of which held in a special crimson jar to be saved for last.

 

As the first lid broke the dense air, a deafening scream was heard, shattering far off glass and rumbling the area. The tormented demon's soul was immediately tossed to the swirling abyss, funneled down by their combination of energy into the focal point of the blade, where the eye opened wide then shut, sealing the soul's fate eternally within its chasms.

 

The process repeated, one by one, growing larger in power, all controlled by the honed senses of the two Sith partner who collaberated for the intense ordeal. At last, the crimson jar was personally raised inside his hands, his fingers digging deep into the flask which contained the rather unique soul inside..

 

”œThis one.. You shall be the final one.”

[Tiana Calthye]

She hadn't been finished with her work yet, actually, but Tiana determined the male inability to comprehend multi-tasking quickly and stalked back to the room she had waken in, grabbing a book from the shelf on her way by without even looking at the title. It didn't matter, after all.

 

If he blows himself up, it's his own fault, she reasoned before sitting down heavily to stare at the title. Sith books. As if she didn't get enough of the history lessons from the Jedi books she had read through...

 

Pth.

 

Flipping it open, she studied it tiredly. The summary, she decided later was: Power! Yay! Let's go kill people! Let's find malicious ways to use the people we've killed! Hah hah! Black is good. Darkness is powerful. Killing people is better than using them for our own malicious purposes. Need to take notes, or something...

 

She rolled her eyes to herself, wondering where the purpose was. Knowledge could be used far darker than smacking people with swords and sabers. If you knew enough about a person, instead of killing them, you could simply tear them down and utterly, ultimately, destroy them. And it would hurt them far more than any torment, to make their loved ones hate them...

 

That's why it's pointless to try fighting him. Hurting is worthless in the face of being able to turn everything against a person in a far more intensive and personal way...

 

And that, she knew, was why she would never be dark.

 

Shadows can only appear that way, but they might hurt all the more.

 

But reading was, after all, something to do while they did their strange and malicious deeds of darkness. She didn't deny that there was dark anymore. But... it was so illogical.

[Zadkiel]

Four shuttles entered real space over the stormy planet of Kamino. One shuttle took the lead over the others, piloting down towards one of the Sith inhabited cities. Zad sent a comm to Dagon notifying him that his supplies had arrived and the mission had gone smoothly. He was unsure of what Dagon wanted done with the supplies so he informed the Acolytes that they were to leave them in the Shuttles until given further orders.

 

Zad moved through the structure quickly, finding himself a room until Dagon was ready to speak with him.

[Oblivion]

The fatigue made by the process of refining such a weapon had worn off, feeling replinished by the surronding darkness, abiding energy to fill the void which had become of the hardened ritual. Slowly at first, leaning an arm upon the arm rest, the Sith Lord stood straight and tall, manuvering a few steps towards his partner. Either hands motioned across his necks, grabbing the ends of the loose hood before pulling it back over his face once more, completly veiled once more.

 

”œIt would seem you have unfinished business yet, Master Exodus,”

[Bad karma]

Darth Hel's ship broke the atmosphere quickly and moved towards the area that Dagon. She wasn't interested in wasting any time. Once the ship was upon one of the landing platforms Hel and her apprentice moved to meet Dagon. The two females walked through the hallways, Malyss a step behind Dominique. They would soon find the powerful force user known as Master Dagon...

[Malyss]

Malyss, silently seething, kept pace behind Hel. She glared at the back of the woman's head. She would strike Hel one day. Soon. She vowed that much at least as her tongue slithered about in her mouth to lick at the warm thick fluid that yet pooled down between her gums and inner cheek.

 

Questions began to push past the seething. But Malyss asked none. She had been told to only speak when spoken to. As much as she hated being locked in obedient silence, she strove to stay quiet. The last thing she wanted was another 'correction' by Hel.

 

In bitter silence, Malyss followed her master.

[Tiana Calthye]

((I'm just going to cross my fingers and hope that that's accurate information, not as if he's shown up in ages...))

 

"Well, I haven't gotten any decent literary recommandations yet," she murmured, watching the book fly across the room with a strange sort of factination. But she remained silent, not attempting to speak louder than the Sith above her.

 

And, the name...

 

All too many memories distantly engraved upon it. A face, a woman, distant feelings and horrors... had one of the children died?...

 

Orders. Simple, and stretching ones that somehow pulled her past what she had been before, but so little of it actually spoken, it had just only happened... he wasn't normal, and she wasn't yet grounded enough to notice it...

 

"Yes... yes, it does."

 

...When she had first vanished, most of the connection had vanished with it, as if he too had disappeared into the mists, but by that point she had been stronger, and forced herself to ignore the suspicions...

 

"But you knew that it would." Tiana smiled dryly at him. "You have now succeeded in pulling a name from my mind and decided to inform me he was Sith. Which thereby implies Sith are liars, as he was a Jedi, and I can't believe you anyway." But there was a hint of an edge in her tone, the underlying possibility that everything she said was a front.

 

I'm never going to be anything, am I? I'm a rogue...

[Dagon]

I sense that you have accomplished your task apprentice. Take weapons to Darth Oblivion's labs on Mechis III, and then report to the imperial fleet. They have informed me that they need Sith to act as field commanders.

 

::Dagon turned to the handful of Sith present for his lesson::

 

I know that most of your training thus far has consisted of the instinctual talents of the Dark side. Heightened reflexes, increased strength, perhaps some telekinesis. Such things have their limits though, and ultimately these talents will lead to a test of martial skill. We are not all warriors, but we are all soldiers in this conflict. What I'm going to teach you will give you new paths to pursue in battle, eschewing the traditional warrior to warrior combat for a more civilised approach. Before I continue, do not mistake my mention of civility for honor. We are not idealists and martyrs, we are the leaders and heroes of the Empire. Honorable men fill the ground, civilised men walk the halls of power built on the honorable men's bones.

 

The most basic application of Sith sorcery is raw destructive power projected at something that needs to die. Now, none of you yet possess the power to launch a full scale ranged attack such as the notorious Sith lightning, but we can build upon what skills you already posess to give you a framework for when you do advance. Generally speaking, the first impulse of every Sith in a combat situation is to blast the enemy full on with no restraint. While some situations do indeed warrant this approach, there are times when control is necessary to avoid fatigue. Sorcerous abilities are far more demanding than instinctual talents, and an undisciplined sorceror will quickly find themself exhausted. Always focus on what the situation requires to effectively accomplish your goals. Also, remember that war is unpredictable, and new enemies can surface at any time.

 

Now it's time for something of a practical exercise. I will present you with targets and you will kill them in the manner I describe. The first set will be with a simple yet practical application of sorcery. You will focus your dark emotions around your fist and forearm, and strike them down.

 

::A door opened and specially made clones affectionately called meatsacks entered the room. Featureless and armless, their sole purpose of existence was to serve as living, easily available targets for Sith training.::

 

Begin.

[Oblivion]

”œYour overwhelming fear of me only verifies the truth, my dear. You were afraid of the dark before, enough as to deny of its very presence. And now..”

[Exodus]

Sitting on the bare floor of his darkened laboratory, Exodus' meditated, reciting the Sith Code”¦

 

There is no fear, there is power.

There is no death, there is immortality.

There is no weakness, there is the Dark Side.

I am the Heart of Darkness.

I know no fear,

But rather I instill it in my enemies.

I am the destroyer of worlds.

I know the power of the Dark Side.

I am the fire of hate.

All the Universe bows before me.

I pledge myself to the Darkness.

For I have found true life,

In the death of the light.

 

He found solace in the words, though not peace.

 

For the Sith, there is no peace. Peace is weakness, the absence of power. I am the perfect Sith. I am power.

 

A tone sounded on the undersized comm unit positioned next to him in the darkness of the seem to be archaic room. Shifting without further ado to a kneeling position, Exodus answered the call, his heart thudding. Even though it was an audio-only connection, he bowed his head, eyes closed. A voice that he hadn't heard in quite awhile rose from the tiny speaker without introduction.

 

”œIt will be done.”

[darth shadowlord]

Draken drew his emotions to the front of his mind as he processed what Dagon had told them. He began to search though them and sort them out. He shoved anything that wasn't a dark emotion out of his mind. Next he began to focus his mind on his fist and forearm.

 

He slowly brought his rage forward and focused it around the right side of his fist. His anger, he focused on the left side of his fist. He moulded these two emotions into one main heavy layer that stretched out five inches from his fist. His pride formed into a sharp layer which was placed near where his knuckles were.

 

Finally he wrapped his comtempt for lower races around his forearm, wrapping it in thick heavy layers and using his comtempt to strengthen his arm. Draken looked toward the clone with disgust on his face before striking the clone.

 

His fist never actually struck the clone, but the dark emotions that he had focused around his fist cut into what would be the clone's face. The sharpened pride sliced deep in the clone's face. A second quick strike cut deep into the clone's throat. The clone twitched and blood burst from the clone's throat and would have coated Draken's clothing but he Quickly caught the blood and turned it back, letting it only coat the clone's body.

[Bad karma]

A few minutes before Dagon arrived to great her, Dominique turned to face her obviously bitter and angry apprentice. She looked the woman up and down twice, stepping around her frame as if sizing her up before striking her down. The near overbearing presence of darkness began to seep into the room as Dagon approached, so Hel took this time to speak with Malyss.

 

"If you wish to speak, Ask permission first. Only then can you speak to ask questions. If you do that, I will not deny you unless the situation says otherwise. Pay attention, you are about to meet a Master of the order. Show him only respect and he will reveal the dark secrets of our art to you."

 

Dominique turned to face the man, bowing slightly to show her respect. With each word he spoke, she became even more interested in what he was to teach them. It did not take long for him to finish speaking and assign them their first task. Dominique nodded her head, closing her eyes slowly and focusing on her left hand. He abilties to read others emotions in the aura through color began to show through as she opened her eyes, revealing the first sparkings of bright red and black began to flow around her hand, circling up her arm in a almost hypnotic swirling way. Her anger and hatred, first to arise...

 

Forcing herself to focus and draw out more of her own emotions, a deep shade of violet and green joined the fray showing her aggressive and envious nature. The air around her was pulsing with the colors, the last to appear being brown. The power gathering at the beginnings of her finger tips and moving up the length of her forearm was immense and in one swift move she lashed out, decapitating the first. In the next second the others neck was snapped from the sheer force brought about by the woman.

 

Learning a bit from Draken, she kept the blood from splattering upon her robes. She turned to face the Sith Master off to the side, waiting for his comments on their performance or their next task.

[Tiana Calthye]

No sides to the coin, of course. There's emotion and apathy...

 

"Of course, you're almost wrong again," she murmured absently, the tone barely fitting to the situation, yet establishing a tiny fact. Tiana learned from osmosis before instruction, from example rather than fact. "I already am nothing, and that's why I haven't already broken down, falling at your feet and pleading to learn ultimate power."

 

Some differences made themselves evident from the start. The first had been that she was scarcely a Jedi. An engima, something unfitting.

 

This was some place different.

 

You tried to fit in with the Jedi Order, though. You tried. Why do you fight here?

 

"I embraced that there was nothing a long time ago." In the same sense as her body hadn't fallen prey to the spell, only leaving a gashing hole where something had been either woken up or set asleep for a moment. "And I sincerely must salute you for not attempting to turn me dark with offers of unlimited power and control over the dark side of the Force.

 

"But, I am curious. What is your goal in continually speaking with me like this? The challenge?"

 

Perhaps she did border on an alternate personality. The vaguely calm tone, almost speaking to someone else, was barely befitting to the generally sarcastic tempered girl, now describable as either a servant or enigma.

 

A child, yet an adult. A near Jedi Knight, and still no more than an acoylate walking the borders. A Sith apprentice by rights of osmosis, and still nothing more than the slave girl. Burnt by illusion, yet fated to drown...

 

Absent, and yet readily there.

 

Someday, she thought, although it wasn't her own thoughts; she would go insane.

[Oblivion]

”œI've said this before,”

[Master Kyp Durron]

The Bloodlust burst out of Hyperspace over Kamino. Fully rejuvenated, and at the ready to do whatever Lord Dagon required, Kyp pulled up the comm frequency for ground control on the planet below.

 

Lord Kyp, requesting permission to land.

 

Kyp sat back and waited patiently for a response... he needed to speak with Lord Dagon directly.

[Tiana Calthye]

There was some part of her mind that could almost laugh at the ludicous earnesty the voice portrayed. The rest picked through to find the truth, the lies, the submerged tones which revealed others...

 

A strange sort of facination to see his face, emotionless and yet hardly older than her own; perhaps a few years, a few more trials, a few more pressing blows. Not aged by years, a process she knew all too well. Though perhaps not here. Here was different. Here was a confusing gray realm, and the grayness would never leave; the shadow realm, the twilight lying between midnight and afternoon.

 

His fingers were cold, yet abnormally warm. She didn't know what he wanted, what his goal was. That emotionless face””known too well to her from other figures in the past””even seeing it didn't reveal a thing. Unconsciously she reached back to tuck a strand of her hair behind her ears before shifting her focus (visual, as she had given up on defining any of this strangely neurotic darkness with the Force) to stare up at him.

 

A strange touch, different...

 

Isn't it cute?

 

Stunned silent.

 

"I doubt if I were to refuse you, you'd renquilish the offer easily." She gave him an easy smile, her dark eyed stare intensive; the expression had long since refused to reveal anything she thought. "Understand that it runs both ways. You cannot comprehend what part of me refuses the dark; I can hardly comprehend how you are dark.

 

"I'm scarcely in a place to deny you, am I? But I'm as curious about you as you as me... an opposite force."

 

She left it unspoken, but it was still there: a tangible thought. He desired her to be one with him, but if he were to override her, gradually it would die out. Any connection had to be mutual, or it would slip away like silk between fingers.

 

She tapped the hand that had lay against her wrist and chin lightly. "You understand?"

[Oblivion]

”œOf course I do.. I understand more then you know,”

[Malyss]

Even with her newborn connection to the Force Malyss could feel the oppressive weight of his aura approach. Absolute darkside poured forth from the being, a pyroclastic surge of malevolent power that preceeded the Master. Before she could bear witness to the seemingly omnipotent being that approached, Hel had struck Malyss and quickly set her straight on the situation.

 

Malyss leered at Hel then nodded in compliance. When the Master entered the room, Malyss followed Hel's cue and bowed respectfully. Her anger quickly evaporated. The emotion seemed paltry when compared to the combined and individual potency of those in attendance. She surrendered emotion for the time being and devoted all energies to the words of the Master. She devoured them as if starved for knowledge.

 

Malyss then watched the impressive completion of the task by the others. A great respect for each of them grew within the woman. She still did not particularly like or trust the Sith trainees. But respect them, she did. Malyss decided to attempt the task. She knew full well that failure would bring Hel's wrath. And that Hel's wrath would bring pain, even death. None the less, she would do it. She was, after all, there to learn.

 

Her silver eyes closed. Her mangled arm crossed her chest, fist clenched. Malyss delved deep into the churning pit of hatred within. She envisioned every soul and situation that had caused her suffering. Ire leapt up obediently. A million hatreds combined into a tangle of pure loathing. Struggling valiantly, she forced the despise to flow into her disfigured limb. Her own energy fused with the power that Hel had already set into into the arm. In her mind the limb was surrounded by a continuously shifting and swelling mass of shadow. Power unlike anything she'd ever known.

 

Malyss opened her eyes, glared at the clone nearest to her, a few feet away. Her left arm dropped to her side. It flexed and pulled back as if intending to uppercut someone. She stepped back, swug hard, fist but a blur as it sliced through the air at apparent nothing. She launched every last particle of hatred straight at the clones face. The dark force ripped into the clones nose, eyes and mouth and ears. The energy, like a million grinding razors, clashed together in the midst of the clone's skull. The gelatinous tissues within were slowly rended to shreds.

 

Outwardly, the clone's eyes rolled back into it's head. It convulsed a few times then collapsed. A rather anticlimactic ending when compared to the other deaths. Malyss looked at her arm, partly shocked and partly proud of what she'd accomplished, though she wasn't entirely sure what she done. A sudden bolt of fear shot down her spine. Only after the fact did Malyss realize she'd not asked Hel for permission to attempt the task. Her eyes fell onto her master, shades of dread swirling within them.

[Tiana Calthye]

"Emotion, is it? At some level?" Her eyebrows raised slightly, the fleeting sensation of having been touched by an apposing force still tingling over her fingers. She recognized the conditioning, but nothing could break a soul without destroying the personality attached. Within everyone, there had to be the briefest flicker of themselves...

 

Perhaps respect, perhaps not.

 

Perhaps fear, perhaps not.

 

The emotionless, unyielding face hardly bothered her. After all, she had been raised by a similar featured face, one that didn't break for love. One plastered over with a mask. Yet, even facing a mask, she had resisted the moment's temptation to pull him down and see what it would take to break through. Pain couldn't break this one, nor frustration so far. She doubted passion, or kindness, or even manipulation could. Though perhaps the latter, turning things the wrong way...

 

Had he noticed the same?

 

Surely he had””not breaking under any pressure must've lead to observations either way. The mutual confusion... in a sense, led to a mutual connection. Or a potential one, at any rate.

 

"Perhaps it is an emotion, then."

[Dagon]

Sometimes you will find that it is better to maim than kill, although I would advise you to only maim non combat personnel, never leave a warrior with an avenue of attack, no matter how wounded he may be. When dealing with the masses however, the appropriate level of maiming can cow a crowd and demonstrate the futility of resistance. Observe.

 

::Whereas the lords he was instructing needed to focus their energies in a melee attack, Dagon's power was such that he could deliver devastation with a mere glance. Dagon tilted his head and caught a meatbag with a brief glance. It lasted only seconds, but in that time Dagon literally melted the clone's facial skin off. The pathetic thing dropped to the ground in agony, mewling and gurgling in pain.::

 

If you'll excuse me, there is a matter that I need to attend to.

 

::Dagon left the room to recieve Kyp's progress report.::

 

I sense that your mission has been completed, are you prepared to complete another service to the order?

[Master Kyp Durron]

Yes, My Lord. In addition, I've instructed Administrator Ulyss to begin construction of a planetary defence system, so Trulalis will stay secure. The Genesis project is safe for now, I made sure Ulyss... understood what would happen if he failed me.

 

What is this other service of which you speak?

[Oblivion]

Extending from his chest, the slender digits that protruded out from the open sleeve unfolded and was brought slowly out to either side in a sweeping motion as he began to speak in such a slowed tone of voice, clarifying the detail in every word..

 

”œI have no other ways to clarify love beyond what I have seen and experienced with my own eyes since I have never felt it. Therefore, I have classified it as an emotion of strongest potential. While it may be foreign to me now, I am still allured by the powers it possesses.”

[Tiana Calthye]

((I sincerely appologize for monologuing. ))

 

"Now””" Her face twitched slightly. "I must say, you say you've never known love. Understand..." Tiana paused a moment, letting her words hang, letting her eyes linger over his face for a long moment. "There's a difference between love and lust, passion and affection. It is, of course, passion which draws the most intensity... that's why the Jedi Order avoids it."

 

She frowned and carried on carefully. "Love is different. It's not a teenage crush; it's something undying, something that brings connections that aren't always carnal, but can be far more powerful. I'm aware I sound like a child at the moment. Happily ever after? Foolishness. But there is a difference."

 

Smiling then, though as usual it was humorless, unrevealing, she stood up. "I could take your hand. But would you understand it? Would you know that mutual feeling? I'm your slave, not your harem girl." She spoke carefully, the voice of someone treading on uncertain ground. "What you want, you wouldn't get from a fearful child who'd throw herself at you and smother you with affection””you can get that anywhere. And you know it.

 

"I may be able to profess to love you””at the very least I can profess to admire you for speaking frankly. And you say the emotion is a stranger to you... how then can you know for certain what it is that you want?" She reached out, not taking her hand, perhaps not even necessarily offering it. "Love is a strength, it's also a weakness. It empowers, but also slowly destroys. Sometimes you can mutually find each other, and then find an ultimate strength of mind; two opposing forces joined to create a single threat combined through an emotion. And sometimes all it turns into is a raging war for power, two beings destroyed from within. Emotions are dangerous..."

 

Her eyes narrowed, bordering on darkness, voice a hiss between her teeth. "Love is dangerous. I'm not afraid of you, or walking in your shadow. Are you afraid to let me””a shared emotion, you said... are you afraid to share it?"

[Oblivion]

The tip of his head bowed signficantly, poised against the slanting angle in which his neck slowly craned towards. Both eyes closed momentarily, taking in her words within his very breath and exhaling it out smoothly. The tips of his fingers folded across the thin matted surface of his left eyebrow, arched over his forehead to peel back the thin consistancy of the man's platinum locks of hair.

 

”œI am certain of this desire, I assure you. I have always dwelled within the path to the unknown, always curious of what knowledge I have yet to have acquired.. It has gone beyond curiosity nor any form of addiction for that matter. It is a part of my heart, part of who I am, to continue along this path; to follow it wherever the darkness may go..”

[handofthrawn]

A YT-2000 emerged from hyperspace over the watery world of Kamino. It's transponder ID signal claimed that it was the Dawn of Vengeance and that its owner and pilot was the borderline infamous character known simply as ShadowFett, a mere reflection of his appearance and not the name that he had been given, which few knew.

 

The ship descended towards the capital city, which was occupied heavily with an Imperial garrison. Kaminoans had been all but wiped out as a race in the galaxy and the cloning machines that were not destroyed were being used to create more stormtroopers, soldiers that were an increasingly common sight in the galaxy. Hapes and Kamino were only two of the many worlds that had recently fallen to Imperial control, and it was impossible to tell when that affinity would change.

 

ShadowFett had worked a few jobs for the Empire in the past, so he was known among them and not shunned. He set down at the main docks on Kamino and left his ship fully armed and armored, though it had taken much time for him to return to being fully armed and armored after the events of Foy not long ago.

 

But the Mandalorian--the only Mandalorian--was not here seeking work, but instead seeking something that he had tried at first indirectly, trying to find a new, different way to achieve it, only now to take a direct means of obtaining it--vengeance. He had sworn it on the day when the Black Sun turned from his home and faction to his mortal enemy, the day that the only being he trusted became the one he hated more than almost any other.

 

"2277, take the ship out of here," ShadowFett commed back to his ship as he walked down the slippery walkway to the main Imperial-controlled structure before him. What he intended to do could be taken in several ways--one could assume the belief that he had serious thrill issues. Others would think it was just plain stupid and suicidal. Fett thought neither. His armor was thick, but the only armor he truly needed was that of boldness.

 

The Mandalorian entered the main structure and took in his surroundings. Stormtroopers stood at both doorways. "Who's in charge here?" he asked in a voice that was well known 225 years ago. "I'd very much like to speak to him."

[Tiana Calthye]

((Yet another OOC appology... sorry for the lack of dialogue. Read her thoughts if you must.))

 

Emotion? What emotion? There was none...

 

There are moments in which, try as you might, there is no escape. You feel as if you're a puppet, pulled in every which direction, watching yourself from above. A screen viewed version of yourself, acting in strange manners, and you can't do a thing to stop yourself...

 

A long time ago, she had learned to never let go of an advantage. Here, she didn't know what it was, whether emotion or darkness, or simply control. Only that in the moment of embrace, both of them would lose something from reaction.

 

Darkness prevents feelings. But yet, surrounded in the darkness, everything but your eyes become stronger. Everything you hear, touch, smell, taste...

 

Tiana saw little purpose in letting the Sith Lord pull away from her””or the opposing effect, pulling away from him. It had been his choice to pull her into an embrace, and it was scarcely a challenge to wrap her arms around him in return, fingers lost in ice-colored hair. It was dark, she thought. That had been the goal. Let him see what drove her, let her see what drove him...

 

There was no emotion...

 

At least, that's what they said.

 

There was no darkness? Oh, no. Hardly. The darkness might have even prevailed over the lingering emotion.

 

We'll see.

 

Even in a moment that should've carried them both lost from thoughts, Tiana had a tangible thought. It would take a lot more than mere violence to drive the two of them away from pursuit of a common goal. She wasn't going to be able to run away from him now, or the other way around.

[Oblivion]

An exasperated breathe left his mouth as they finally parted after the long embrace, extending one finger to touch the surface of his lower lip with the same wry smile expressed before. Within that moment, he was able to savor something beyond the darkness that was not as falliable and uneasy as the light, yet riddled with expression beyond what he previously had known..

 

”œIf but a taste, as it were, of you, I would have liked to have savored so much more..”