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Kamino


Tarrian Skywalker

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Instinctively my mind rejected Sol's hand, but with something of the remaining inhibition-less mentality swayed my arm to grasp his as he pulled me up. My eyes met his briefly, but I pushed my head away not wanting to meet with them again. I did not say thank you as his hand left mine and I was now standing, but apparently something in my body compelled me to more intimate action. Some odd force parrying my conscious mind and will, making sure I had no choice.

 

I blushed slightly as my legs, pushed by invisible arms, made their way to their tip toes and my body, as if vapors pulled the hem of my very sweater, moved in to perform a light kiss upon Sol's cheek. I blushed heavily and didn't remain looking in his position embarrassed by what I had done. It was a complete and total act of random impulsion as my blood lust had been, but I was not very comfortable doing the kiss as I was blowing people's brains out.

 

I rapidly made my way back to the ship without saying another word to Sol and stared at the floor til the small ordeal quickly began to work its way out of my mind.

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Sol's eyes widened after she had kissed him. It was very”¦ impulsive, to say the least, of Anilara to do that. The woman who he knew hungered for violence and battle, who was, possibly, the most stubborn and outrageous being who he had ever met, had kissed him. Normally, he would have been opposed to the idea of another woman showing him any intimate affection”¦ ever since Na'an died. The woman who he loved. It still pained him, even to this day, to know that she was”¦ gone.

 

It took him a second or two to realize that Anilara was making her way back to the turbolift. He proceeded to follow her, still in a slight daze from what had just happened. He had a feeling that she didn't mean anything by it; perhaps it was just a spontaneous action, something that she really didn't want to do? Or did she mean something by it”¦?

 

He shook his head, trying to concentrate on the task at hand. Harrun was dead, as were his ”˜minions'. Luckily, there were no authoritarian figures on Kamino ”“ none that he knew of, at least. For all he knew, there could have been a squadron of Stormtroopers waiting for them back at his ship. Just to be safe, he kept his blaster pistol un-holstered, but slung his blaster rifle around his back.

 

He boarded the turbolift with Anilara, which would take them directly to the top of the building, where his ship was currently docked. He didn't say anything to her, fearful that she might lash out at him if he did so. Instead, he stood by her side, waiting for the turbolift to reach the fortieth floor”¦

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Darla was free. After so long of following and being led, being forced and being helped along. After so long, she didn't know what to do with her freedom. Even though she was free, she was all alone. Her friends, her loved ones, her captors and her tormentors all gone. They were there, somewhere. Somewhere out in the great vastness of the Galaxy.

 

The idea was both comforting and unnerving. Darla vaguely remembered searching the Galaxy for her Master Tarres, years ago when the two of them had been separated. It took her so long time find him that byt the time she did she didn't need to find him anymore. She had grown and stretched and learned things for herself and when she found him she was no longer his pupil.

 

Would the same thing happen now? If she went in search of her friends would she have to go through so much that by the end of it she wouldn't need them anymore?

 

But they're like my family... I can't grow apart from my family can I?

 

Darla thought of her mother. The two had become so estranged that she didn't even know if the woman was alive anymore. Aimee Sar... Darla had named her droid in memory of her mother. Aimee... It suddenly dawned on Darla that she wasn't alone.

 

Aimee was still there with her, returned to her by Faust of all people. Darla knew that she couldn't trust Faust. He wouldn't do anything out of pure kindness. Returning Aimee to Darla had to mean something more.

 

I can't trust her anymore. Even if her programing hasn't been changed, Faust could have her bugged or rigged to explode...

 

There were just too many possibilities.

 

"Where has everybody gone Darla?" Aimee asked inquisitively.

 

"I...I don't know..." Darla croaked. It had been a while since she had spoken aloud and her throat was dry.

 

"Are we going to follow them?" Aimee cocked her head to one side.

 

Always questioning. Like a child. That would make the next part hard for Darla. Harder. It would be difficult enough as it was. She was well built and able to defend herself and Darla had no weapons. Darla would have to be cunning and swift.

 

Faust hasn't left me alone or set me free, he just wants me to think that he has...

 

Darla bided her time talking to Aimee in as normal a tone as she could muster. If the droid was aware of the tension in Darla, it wasn't apparent in her actions.

 

"Aimee would you mind making me something to eat? Maybe after a meal I'll be able to figure out how we get out of this place." Darla smiled as best she could.

 

Aimee, with her humanoid features smiled back.

 

"Of course, it would be my pleasure."

 

The droid made her way into the kitchen and Darla followed a few paces behind. As Aimee began to prepare food Darla found a chair in the living area. Slowly she pulled it into the kitchen being careful not to make too much noise as she did so. It was a solid piece of furniture and should do the trick. If Darla could muster up the strength to lift it that was.

 

She got as close as she could to Aimee without her noticing. It was now or never. With a grunt of exertion and a mighty heave Darla lifted the chair above her head and brought it crashing down onto the droid. Aimee was alert and swivelled around to face Darla, but she was to late. The chair smashed into her face, destroying one of the oculators that served as her eyes and crumpling one side of her human-like face.

 

Sparks erupted from her broken features and she screamed out in pain. Darla hadn't thought a bout that. Hadn't thought that Aimee could possibly feel pain. Shattered fragments of the chair fell to the ground and Aimee staggered back.

 

"Why?!" She screamed, clutching her fractured face.

 

Darla faltered, dropping the remains of the chair from her hand.

 

She rushed towards Aimee. The Droid looked confused and terrified. So like a child. Darla was suddenly horrified with herself.

 

"Aimee, I'm so sorry, I thought...."

 

Darla's sentence was cut short as she dodged a stun bolt fired from Aimee's arms. She had forgotten that the droid had those, it had been so long since she had seen her use them. Old reflexes came to life and Darla tumbled out of the blasts path. As soon as she was on her feet again she rushed Aimee, picked up the chair as she ran, holding it out in front of herself like a shield and then slamming it into the droids torso.

 

She pushed with all her might, trying to topple Aimee, but the droid was stronger. She clutched the ruined chair and wrenched it from Darla's hands tossing the heavy piece of furniture away like it was no more than a twig.

 

Finding herself unarmed and defenseless, there was little Darla could do when Aimee's mechanical arms clutched her throat and began to tighten. He ruin face was a half smile. Half smile, half exposed wiring. Artificial teeth, half of them shattered, the other half clenched. A maniacal grin, much like Faust's. Darla struggled and fought with all her might.

 

She was becoming light headed and would soon pass out from lack of oxygen, that was if Aimee didn't crush her throat completely before that happened.

 

Black spots swam before her eyes and Darla thought it was all over. The droid that had carried her dna sample to her friends who had given her a new life, a new body, had now been twisted into the agent of her destruction.

 

"I thought you'd take me with you as your faithful little companion and lead me to you're Jedi friends. But I guess now I'll just have to kill you. Smart girl, but not smart enough!" There was a venom in Aimee's voice that broke Darla's heart.

 

No! No! No! You can't give in! Fight! Destroy!

 

Darla's reeling mind, reached out. Her dormant force senses sprang to life. From a deep dark place inside her mind an uncontrollable energy rushed to the surface. Darla was barely conscious, not really in control of what was happening. Instinctively she was reaching out to the force, the place where she new she could find strength. It was beyond thought, her actions were pure feeling. Emotion. Desire.

 

The desire to stay alive was great in Darla.

 

A strangled cry erupted from her throat as she unleashed the Force from within.

 

First she tore Aimee's hands away from her. The Force pull was so great that Aimee's arms were pulled right out of their sockets. There was a look of utter shock on the droids face as she tried to register what had just happened. But before she could process the information another mighty force pull yanked her head off. Aime's inert form collapsed onto Darla, sparks coming from the stumps where her arms and head used to be.

 

Darla's breath returned to her in ragged gasps. It took several minutes before she could muster up the strength to push what was left of Aimee off of her and climb to her feet.

 

For some time after that Darla wept.

 

Now she really was alone...

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Lucky Shot, carrying a Jedi Master and padawan -- yes, Aerec was beginning to think of himself with that designation again -- burst into Kamino's orbit. During the hyperspace transit, Aerec had had plenty of time to think about the world he was coming to. He'd escaped the nightmare that was Coruscant...but was Kamino any better? The birthplace of Darth Riftor...

 

His forced his breathing steady as Darex guided the ship toward the water world. Aware of the scar on his face and heart, he didn't shut himself off from the Force as he might've wanted. Instead, he felt it. He felt the conflict that had plagued him, that still plagued him, the hatred that had erupted from him upon Faust's manipulation, the fire that had given him power to strike

 

He shivered, clenching his fists tight. That was the one time he'd felt in control of himself: when pummeling Faust's defenses with his rage. Now he was just a lost soul, floating through the galaxy on the coattails of a philosophy he'd never fully been convinced of.

 

It was unbearable to come back to Riftor's origin. His feelings fluctuated with every bump of the atmosphere against Lucky Shot's hull. Sadness, rage, hatred, helplessness, depression...loneliness.

 

"Darex, I--" What words? What words?

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Darex put a hand on Aerec's shoulder as pain and anguish and even loneliness all rolled off him as they came out of hyperspace. "I'm sorry we had to come back here," he said quietly. "Someday you'll have to face Riftor and everything he stole from you. You'll have to choose to let him haunt your footsteps or defeat him once and for all. But I wouldn't have brought you here yet if I could have helped it."

 

He opened himself to the Force, keeping his bright Force signature hidden as he did so. He quickly and throughouly searched the planet for Darla. Not surprisingly, he found her presense on one of the floating cities. Opening their bond, he felt the anguish of loneliness that she was feeling, and he clenched his jaw.

 

Turning to the controls, he led the ship down to the place where he had felt Darla's presence. They weren't challenged by any traffic control as they went down, but Darex still hid his presence in the Force. Aerec, he knew, was probably still tinged dark enough not to raise suspicions by any dark Force detecting technology that the Sith might have, but a Jedi Master would be a clear alert beacon.

 

The ship touched down lightly. He put a hand on Aerec's shoulder again. "Will you stay here and keep the ship running? I'll go get Darla and we'll be out of here as fast as we can. If I'm not back in 30 standard minutes, take off and go to Gala."

 

He climbed down the ramp, his hood up, and walked briskly through the rain to the heart of the floating city, focusing on Darla's presense in the Force but also trying not to draw any attention to himself. It took him ten minutes to find Darla's apartments. When he did, he heard a noise inside. It sounded like crying.

 

He knocked lightly on the door, then it slid open to his touch. Inside, was Darla, alerted by his knock. He swept her with the Force. She appeared physically unharmed, and a huge weight was lifted off his chest. "Hello Darla," he said lightly. "Imagine seeing you here! Would you like a ride off-planet?"

 

His tone was light, but if she looked hard enough, she would be able to see the urgency in his eyes. He still didn't know if she would want to go, or was allowed to go. It might be that her continued presence here presented a trap, and Darex was not eager to spring it unless he had to.

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Alerted by the knock on the door at the door, Darla turned startled. She couldn't remember how long she had been alone. She couldn't remember the last time she had seen another living being. Who was it? Would she have to fight?

 

Instinctively she tried to draw the force to herself, ready to unleash an attack through her anger. It seemed be the only way she could touch the Force. Through her anger, through her aggressive emotions. But she had very little control over it. Her attack on Aimee had been almost blind. If she tried to consciously touch it would she be able to?

 

Darla was on her knees, about to jump to her feet when the door opened.

 

Darex!

 

Her heart skipped a beat. She had thought that should never see her friend again. When they had been forcefully separated she had kissed him. Kissed him in a way that was more than just friendship.

 

She scrambled to her feet. a grin spreading across her face through her tears. A nervous laugh tinged with joy escaped her mouth and then more tears. She rushed to him and literally threw herself into his arms.

 

"Yes! Yes please." She said pulling back and still smiling. "I thought I'd never see you again."

 

She stood back a little her hand still clasping his shoulder as she looked into his face.

 

"You're always there to save me when I need you."

 

The words came out without her even thinking about them. She let go of Darex's shoulder, suddenly feeling very aware of her actions.

 

It had been a long time since she had seen her friends and her short cropped hair and grown to her shoulders and lay in a dishevelled mess. Her black flight was torn and she had small cuts and burns on her arms and face from her struggle with Aimee.

 

She looked back at the ruined droid laying in pieces.

 

"Let's get out of here."

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His keen eyes missed nothing in the room, but he paid it little attention as Darla rushed to his arms. He smiled down at her as she pulled back. "I do my best," he said with a lopsided grin.

 

He lead the way out of the complex, his mind filled with relief at finding her relatively unharmed and joy at simply being with her again. He was curious as to what had happened to her after Faust had taken her, but knew that she would tell him when she was ready. He would also have to tell her the news of Faust's death. Although Darex had seen it with his own eyes, there was something about it that made it seem like a trick. It was hard to believe an infamous hunter like Faust would be felled by a blaster bolt to the stomach in a moment of weakness. But then, he thought, that was the nature of power.

 

They reached the ship quickly. Aerec had kept the engines running, so as soon as Darex and Darla were onboard, Darex reached out with the Force and told him to take off. He made sure Darla was settled in the main cabin. "Let me get this ship into hyperspace, then we'll talk."

 

He headed to the cockpit with Aerec. Sliding into the pilot's chair with a thank-you to Aerec, Darex moved the ship out of Kamino's gravity well and hit the lever to send the ship into hyperspace.

 

 

((To space))

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It felt awkward, the feeling between us as we stood within an encapsulated area. Our bodies close together after what had transpired felt increasingly unpleasant. The humidity of the air became more apparent as I felt drops of sweat begin to pour from my skin, my eyes remaining planted upon the metal of the turbo lift's grey floor of respite. The walls growing increasingly close to me as I stood stock still and said nothing. My eyes cursed a glance toward the lights indicating the level of the building, their vigilant journey defying the mundane task by which they were put forth. Parting from the peaceful company of the floor, my eyes met the console only to see that even the floor numbers had slowed to a crawl...

 

My thoughts screamed for the Elevator to just stop and spit us out. The feelings were becoming unbearable.

 

Not wanting to watch the miserable numbers crawl past my view, I looked straight back down to the floor, refusing to acknowledge the existence of the other person with me; my face remained flushed, transfixed among the subtle contours of the surface of the turbo lift. Sol's form had slowly moved from my peripheral vision, but an image of him kept popping through my thoughts as my mind played back what happened again and again, as if it had some sick desire to cause itself emotional angst.

 

The strike relief of the enclosed space, revealing a place bigger and more hospitable, came as almost a surprise to my system. However, it seemed as though my feet knew of the fleeting doors before my eyes had seen them, because my feet seemed to propel themselves forward without any indication of letting up until I had reached the ship...

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The elevator ride to the top of the building would have been pleasant, if there wasn't so much tension between Sol and Anilara. She was obviously feeling either upset, or angry - or both - for having kissed him after the death of Harrun. Whether or not she had actual feelings for him, remained yet to be seen. He had a feeling that if he tried asking her about it, she'd go off on him and inflict physical harm upon him. So, he remained silent, and waited for the turbolift to come to a stop at the top-most floor.

 

As soon as the doors slid open, Anilara was the first one out. She seemed relieved to have finally gotten out of the small compartment, and that hurt him a little bit. However, this feeling was gone almost as soon as it had come. He knew that she felt embarrassed for having kissed him, and he felt bad for her. He didn't want to embarrass her in any way, shape, or form. He felt guilty for having made her feel this way.

 

He sighed, then proceeded to follow her. His ship was docked outside of this very room, out on the landing pad. He noticed now that he was soaked, thanks to the heavy rain that continued to fall. He was surprised that in such a large, empty space like this, that the rain couldn't be heard pattering over the roof as it made contact with it. The rain made for poor flying conditions, but the heavy winds that blew over Kamino were probably the biggest obstacle for pilot's to overcome.

 

As soon as they exited the facility, the Silver Eagle's docking ramp lowered, permitting their entrance on to the vessle.

 

”œAfter you,”

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Through the chaos of my feelings, something I had never felt like before, I had entirely forgotten tempest that awaited us outside. The pangs of water greeted us as we exited the complex and with their cooling touch washed away my chaos. Through their chaotic symphony my mind was put to rest as I enjoyed once again the rain's rather rough grip upon my face, hair, and body. the frigid drips like warm knives cutting through the very pain in which my mind suffered. By now my clothes were no doubt soaked through, but it didn't matter to me. It was but a passing interruption compared to the relief pouring through my consciousness as the cool Kaminoan air blew swiftly through my hair drawing each silver thread into the air...

 

My purple eyes lighting up as the lightning crashed to the already raucous waves upon the Kaminoan surface. The storm drew my body from its pursuit of the ship and instead pushed myself to stop and gaze upon the spectacle.

 

My arms crossing together and grasping each other as if to anchor my body to the ground.

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Sol paused, seeing Anilara stop, as well. She was standing there, in the middle of the terrible storm, yet she didn't seem bothered by it in the least. In fact, Sol could have sworn that she looked... at peace, surrounded by the swirling vortex of rain, thunder, and lightning. He wasn't sure if she was planning on standing there for a while, or if she simply wanted to take in the fresh air before she boarded the Silver Eagle. Either way, he knew that they were in no real rush to get back to Coruscant. Hell, if he had it his way - and if she was up to it, as well - he would take them to Manaan, or some other peaceful planet to stay at for a while, before Smash needed them back at the Citadel.

 

He stepped forward, debating with himself, trying to decide whether or not to try to talk to Anilara. She seemed like she was lost in her own world. Perhaps this was how she always was, after she had murdered somebody? Or was it because of the kiss...?

 

"Anilara," he began slowly. Softly. He chose his words carefully. "Are you alright?"

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Minutes of relaxation passed breathlessly before me as my woes melted away. My skin felt soaked with the water that had purified my mind of its corruption. I felt no moral indignation, but my mind had taken the will of myself away from me and granted it to a hand I could not control, therefore I felt it was the problem that needed to be solved...

 

As I stood looking upon the graceful tempest before me, Sol seemingly approached me from behind asking a somewhat innocent question. In any other context I might've wanted to bust his brains away for asking an obvious question, but my mind was occupied, and my heart soaring through the chaos of world's atmosphere about me.

 

"I am... Alright", I said sort of slowly as I renewed my pace toward the ship, "However I think we have stayed her long enough" I finished with a slight sigh...

 

I took one more look out at the horizon as my indigo eyes sparkled with a dazzling hue, then I hopped into the co-pilot seat of Sol's ship and waited for him...

 

((so I am going to be gone for a bit and wanted to help us get off Kamino, you can post us leaving and arriving wherever it is we need to))

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Sol followed Anilara in awkward silence. He boarded his ship, pulling the lever next to the ramp to raise it back up. As soon the hatch was shut, he made his way into the cockpit and sat down in the pilot's chair. He ran his fingers over his navi-computer to enter the appropriate coordinates for the Black Sun Citadel, and fired up the engines for take-off.

 

---

 

Only a couple of minutes later, the Silver Eagle left the Kamonian platform for the last time - at least, for a while. His craft made a complete turn in mid-air, and soon, broke the outer-most atmospheric layer of the planet. Soon, they were in Space, bound for Coruscant.

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  • 1 month later...

~The Essence of Mortal Arrogance; Redefined~

 

"How is he still alive?"

 

"If the ocean hadn't killed him, surely the beasts below the surface would have..."

 

"It's inexplicable."

 

"Unbelievable."

 

"I've got a bad feeling about this."

 

Whispers, that's all they are. Whispers that are drowned out by the roar of the ocean, of the sea faring vessel's engine, and any other number of things. The deck is ravaged by the torrential downpour that comes from the Kamino skies and the crew below is gathered around the ragged, emaciated form of a man in his late twenties.

 

His breathing is shallow and they all stand in amazement that he is still alive. Some would say he has the force to thank for his survival in the rough waters, some would call it sheer will and that the force is hardly to thank (How can anyone thank something that has caused untold amounts of destruction across the entire Galaxy?).

 

None of them would be right, though, his salvation taking on a wholly unique form and being based in some form of retribution than any sort of concern for Him and His wishes.

 

Gradually he stirs and comes to, brown hair matted to his neck and face, green eyes peering out from behind the thick locks, so dark and heavy with water. There is a crackle of lightening outside the cabin that causes him to jerk upwards.

 

The sudden movement leaves his head spinning, his chest tightening and sends his gag reflex into overdrive as much of the water he swallowed comes rushing out in spurts all over the floor as the crew take a few steps back, looking at each and then to this lone man.

 

The piercing green eyes turn to his hands and he whispers, "Why?," and the answer comes to him as easily as any thought or concept would.

 

Complete the Circle

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"That going to be enough to get you space-side?"

 

A slow nod, thumb rubbing over the credits in my hand. How long has it been since I've held a few credits, rather than looking at them as little more than numbers on a piece of paper, means to an end locked away in some vault or on some computer.

 

There isn't even enough extra to get a bite to eat, but chances are I wouldn't keep it down anyways...I haven't kept much of anything down since coming around a few nights ago. Doesn't stop me from wanting something to eat though, stomach growling...can't be sure if it's agreeing with the need for food, or churning at the thought of food.

 

"Yeah, yeah I think so..thanks."

 

My throat itches and I cough a few times, speckles of blood showing up on my hand as I cover my mouth.

 

"You, uh, you sure you don't want to stick around a few days? They say the doc'll be back by then, he could give you a once over and see whats wrong witcha."

 

"Yes...I am sure."

 

The flight jacket I picked up from one of them is a ragged thing, falling apart in a few different places and more than a few sizes too large for my scrawny frame but it really helps out more than you would think. Lacking body fat makes it difficult to stay warm.

 

It's a quiet walk down a secluded hallway, the whoosh of the doors along the way serving only to stir me from my thoughts. By all rights I should be dead, I wanted to be dead...but I walk again.

 

Not as I was when I came to this planet chasing Shy, Hunting Shy, but as I was on Naboo...Ruffled brown hair, green eyes and human.

 

The next door slides open and my senses are assaulted with activity of all sorts; this must be the market area I was told about. The space port is just across the way and to the left. All of these species gathered in one place, Courscant will be worse than this...it causes my head to ache as I look to each one, a particular planet or zone of the Galaxy being drawn up to tell me where they are from.

 

It's too much information at once, I'm not used to it any longer, and as a result I quicken my pace and try to get into the space port so I can get away from it all.

 

Only to find it's just slightly better, my brain doing the same thing with all of the ships now, all of the people and creatures around them. More coughing, hacking...

 

A rodent looking creature turns its elongated nose upwards, sniffing at the air; it can smell my blood and our eyes meet for a brief moment before line of sight is broken.

 

It's impossible to get off of this rock as fast as I want too, but I find that task to be much more difficult than I thought it would be. No one wants to take me with them; either I don't have enough money, they think I'll ruin their cargo, or they think I'll infect their crew with something.

 

Apparently I look like I'm two steps from death's door.

 

Frustration begins to mount as I get a dirty look from the last damn pilot in this space port. I can already tell what his answer is and if I thought I had the strength, I'd strangle him.

 

"Get out of here, we aren't accepting passengers.."

 

"I can pay you well."

 

"How well?" This is where I know I'll be turned away, "Two hundred credits.." He laughs and my eyes lower, feeling the dejection and disdain in me festering.

 

"Take me with you." My eyes turn upwards, catching his as I display a sliver of what I could once harness. "Take Me With You," I demand it this time and take a step forward.

 

"Wh-Fine...we got a bit'a extra space in the cargo bay, you can stay there. Gimme those credits," he holds out his hand and I toss them to him, shuffling past him and into the cargo bay.

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  • 5 months later...

As promised, a lone transport exits hyperspace above Kamino and begins descent. Aboard the Lachlen Incorporated transport can be found the priceless Sith relics from Taris. Gaining clearance, it lands and droids begin unloading. Senator Celteo's end of the bargain had been upheld. Now he awaits the Sith to uphold their's.

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  • 2 months later...

(( Previous Posts 2: Upper levels of Coruscant. Prologue... http://jedirp.net/forums/viewtopic.php?t=11351&start=6000 ))

 

Beyond The Outter Rim... Just south of the Rishi Maze.

 

Shugar awoke to the soft melodic voice over the intercom, commen to the kaminoan race, suddenly announce that the star ship would soon be in orbit of Planet Kamino. Shugar rose from his bunk, folding his long, brown leather jacket over his forearm, heading for the shuttle bay where pilots would already be busy preparing crafts to transport the star ships guests down to the planets surface.

Aside from a box of death-sticks, and a change of underware, the sack slung over Blodun Shugars's back contained nothing. Brown leather armour was all the protection Shugar had allowed himself, figuring that should the sucpisious note that had reached him so soon after the death of his partner, Mora Skenis, prove to be a trap he would more than likely be dead before he knew it anyway.

"Not that it matters anymore." Muttered Shugar as he entered the docking bay, bording the nearest shuttle and taking a seat at the back of the small craft. After a short announcment and Blodun Shugar was falling through a dark, stormy atmosphere that reflected his mood entierly. The tall slender alien figures around him illuminated by sudden flashes of lightning that came through the windows, now seeming more like reflections of his own inner demons...

 

Kamino: Capital City Tipoka ... One hour later.

 

The complex was a clean and painstakingly organized environment. Stitting outside what may have just been the most sterile cold snacks bar at the ass-end of the universe, Blodun Shugar sipped a hot cup of sweet coffee, and lit another death-stick to the obvious dismay of the planets native passers by. Exhaleing througe his teeth arrogantly, Shugar winced at the small black piece of paper he had been given back on Coruscant. The letters in red that had once read 'Kamino' had almost dissapeared. Rolling it up between his thumb and fore-finger Blodun dropped it on the table and let his head hang back, allowing a stream of pale grey smoke to escape his lips at an easy pace...

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  • 5 months later...

The Demented Madness exited hyperspace above the oceanic world of Kamino sleek black and gold against the bright carpet of the Rishi Maze. Sheog ordered the scenic viewports to open and he reclined on his throne as he gazed upon the Maze's beauty. This was one place in his galactic travels he had never been but now he wished he had come here many a long year ago... This place would have helped him long ago. He shifted his gaze from the beauty of the stars and returned it to his over-sized datapad which at the moment showed a slight decline in his investments. He shook his head and tossed the large datapad at a (unsuspecting) servant. The datapad caught the servant underneath his left ear and sent him spinning into a bulkhead. Sheog ignored the resulting chaos as he ordered the pilot to plot a course down to the nearest landing pad. The pilot received clearance from Tipoka space control and the ship began to descend towards the largest docking bay.

 

Sheog rose slowly from his throne and went through a swift sonic shower before he donned his sidebag and armaments. He stopped by the kitchen, picked up a pre-prepared mixer of food to take with him on the trip, and made his way to the lowering ramp. He exited the Caravel and scooted into the busy hanger thankfully away from the pesky rain. He stretched as he leaned against a pile of supply crates and waited. His m aster would find him... The Sith would have to find him...

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King Kheldar vos Correlli said:
Sheog, I have to ask, overkill much?
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Sheog sighed as he continued to lean on the supply crates he had previously chosen as his spot of contact for the Sith. Which... Apparently wasn't working... He opened one of his away-snacks and smiled in happiness. Rinzefruit with a splash of the finest Souse-mustard and a side of meatlumps. Even if his training seemed to be taking a while to begin, food made it all better. He took his time devouring the deliciousness as he looked out upon the crashing waves and pouring rain barely visible through the docking bay doors. He was not all together excited about being on a planet that the only available food source seemed to be fish. He hated fish. Unless they were fried in wormy deliciousness. He licked his fingers and tore his sight from the hypnotic crashing of the waves. He pushed himself to the entrance of the hanger and into the exterior hallway. Still no Sith around...

 

Sheog glanced around cautiously not wanting to draw too much attention, slithered out into another hallway, and found himself face-to-face with several Kaminoans and three protocol droids. Naturally, they noticed him (because he was kinda hard not to notice... Being a Hutt) and paused their conversation. The lead Kaminoan spread his arms stepped forward and began to speak.

 

”œWelcome to Kamino friend. What can the fine city of Tipoca do for you?”

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King Kheldar vos Correlli said:
Sheog, I have to ask, overkill much?
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The mind of every clone ever created started out blank then evolved depending on the preference of who was creating the clone and what it was intended for. For clones intended for purposes other than personal resurrection, then some basic flash learning and personality traits where added before the clone was awakened, or, if being created for a military occupation, then key skills would be directly transferred from the templates stored for that occasion.

 

For personnel clones, the story was similar, but different in execution. The clone in question would receive only the personality and memories of the individual who had ordered the clone body. No new skills would be imparted during the resurrection process. Occasionally, however, those awakening in new clone bodies would report shadowed memories of events that had never happened and or memories that were altered in some detail that researchers found most often to be the result of errors in the cloning process.

 

The technicians on duty had their hands full with normal Sith, but one with a neural net in place which used technology abandoned centuries before that had somehow become integrated into the genetic memory of every clone almost made them abandoned the clone altogether. Two options were discussed, rebuild it without those cellular complications or updating the technology of the neural net and related implants could make future clone transfers far easier on all parties. Further complicating the fact was that the technicians found two competing personalities present, as if someone had attempted to overwrite a personality in an organic body with a carefully created construct. Both proposals simply shrugged away the competing personalities and recommended that the personalities be simply merged.

 

Before anything could be done, the technicians submitted their proposals to management and went about their various routines. The reply had been quick, much to the lab's surprise. The lab's orders were to clone the individual, updated the various technological components to at least galactic standard and implant the personality in file US-361953130-FS-S-1 without delay.

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Slick, efficient, streamlined. Every graceful step of one of the Kaminoans reflected their culture in this manner. They had truly taken science to an art, and such were their movements about the great city of Tipoca. However, this day had seen that undulating gait quicken, as though the storms overhead had spurred a storm in each creature's eyes. Their slender bodies became gangly messes as they prepared plate after plate after plate after... well, you get the idea. Black holes cannot be filled.

 

Still, if the hutt was there for any purpose other than eating, he would have to feel it out himself. There was something gnawing at the back of his head, a message in every rain drop that fell into the gargantuan sea below.

 

Find us if you are worthy.

 

Sasori said:
Travis said:
Why would you side with a group that is composed of some of the largest douche criminal scum from around the world?

To annoy you.

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Kaminoan food was to say the least unsatisfactory. Excessive amounts of fish for Sheog's taste but he ate what was put before him. Food was after all food and was meant to be eaten. Another thing about Kaminoan food was that it was not very filling. After his fifth course, he was beginning to become satisfied. He ordered the food to stop and pushed himself back from the table. The Kaminoan chefs gathered around him ready to hear of his enjoyment of their labor. Sheog smiled broadly and wiped a bit of drool from his face with the expensive looking table-cloth before he spoke to them.

 

>>My fine chefs! Seldom have I had a meal with so much fish... Nevertheless, you made the best of it I suppose. What I would recommend for your next guest would be a fine selection of breads and perhaps some variations of meat. Anywho... Well done. Now be off with you all! I have a mission!>>

 

With that, he raised his hand and the Kaminoans scattered released from their force-fed service. He sighed and relaxed now finally alone in the eating hall. It was a rare time when he was satisfied and could finally focus on something other than eating. He closed his eyes, turned his thoughts to the hunger, and expanded his mind to envelop it. The hunger was calm for now but still roiled like an upset stomach that had not eaten for an hour. Sheog focused upon it diving into the very roiling waves of hunger. A strange feeling grasped hold of him. He felt... Focused. This was the force. He opened his eyes and glanced around him keeping himself submerged in the stomach of the force. There was something odd... Something was eating away at him. It was a singular pulse beaming through his connection to the force shooting through his submerged mind and conveying some distant location. It felt as though a distant nerf stake was sizzling on a grill with no one to tend it and eat it.

 

He had to follow the signal no matter what. It had to be the Sith. He rushed (as fast as a stuffed Hutt could) down hallway after hallway. Soon he entered passages that were no longer habited and he seemed to continue to go downhill. He slowed his pace not wishing to become exhausted and withdraw from the stomach of the force. Absentmindedly he began to eat once more from his side pouch stuffing handfuls of worms into his gullet. As he continued to move ever closer to the source of the signal he felt the hands of madness begin to stir once more within him as if the very darkness of the place was urging it on. He came at last to a large door (just about the right size for a Hutt) and he moved up close to it. He had found the source of the sizzling nerf steak that had been left unattended. He had found the Sith. The stomach of the force he was submerged in began to roil as he put a large hand upon the door. His inner mind was buffeted by the wakes of dark side energy and he felt as though he was losing control of his very mind. In response he plunged himself deeper into the foul dark waters of the force where it was calmer. Sheog let out a sigh and cleared his mind of the madness (not an incredibility easy task). Once his mind was calm and focused, once more he pushed the door slowly open. He was ready to meet his master.

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King Kheldar vos Correlli said:
Sheog, I have to ask, overkill much?
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He was ready to meet his master, but what he found was something completely different. Alchemic regents had decayed in their dormancy, their potency oozing onto the floor and congealing into hideous forms the whole way. A twisted figure comprised of sith metal rose from the ground, the heart of a literal demon beating in its chest. In its hand was a spear, twisted metal ending in the razor sharp point of a krayt dragon's tooth. It pounced upon Sheog, seeking to gut the hutt in its purposeless rage. If sithspawn was the doorman, the hosts beyond the first room would be left only to the mad sentient's imagination.

 

Sasori said:
Travis said:
Why would you side with a group that is composed of some of the largest douche criminal scum from around the world?

To annoy you.

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(OOC: So yeah... Pretty much like a quasi-duel I guess?)

 

Sheog groped for his worm pouch on his hip. The Kaminoan's meal had been delicious but he was a Hutt and Hutts were constantly driven by hunger. His large slimy hand found his pouch and he squeezed it. SQUISH. The sound was a little louder than he had expected from his side pouch but at times, the cook prepared the worms in Cancus Cooking Oil®, which made them extra squishy. Nevertheless, Sheog found the sound had been slightly louder than a squishing worm. He breathed in slowly. It certainly didn't smell like the scrumptiousness of Cancus Cooking Oil®. It smelled more Dru'un slices left in a heated bin beneath sneaze guards at a C-class cafeteria, which had just been thrown up upon by a drunken Wookie. In addition, the Wookie had eaten a Tusken Raider. SQUISH. Sheog glanced down at his side. He had not touched his pouch this time. A metallic clanking joined the squishing in a cacophony made by a mad scientist.

 

Sheog's red eyes widened with incomprehensible terror heard something creak and groan within the depths of the dark room before him. A shiver of primal fear ran up the folds of his back fat drawing a cold line. His formally clear mind abandoned him diving out of the depths of the force like the titan rising from a distant ocean. However, his mind had left the depths of the force and his concentration was broken a small connection to the force remained. Through that connection, he felt a strange presence he had not felt before even when he had been in tune with the force. The presence felt like an old bottle of Corellian Spiced Ale aged, but still containing a bubbly center. Sheog hated Corellian Spiced Ale. In fact, he simply hated Corellians. He forced his weight backwards and back into the more lightened hallway behind his massive bulk. Whatever it was, it could certainly pursue such a massive target.

 

He listened as he moved swiftly backwards. All he heard was the sound of oozing and metallic scraping. Sheog made it out into the corridor and continued backwards up the hallway meanwhile withdrawing his Chiss-made maser from his oversized holster. It was a large blaster pistol for a normal humanoid but more like a holdout pistol for a Hutt. Whatever it was, it certainly did not seem or feel like it would be a friendly type. After all it was a Sith. Maybe it was a Sith creation! Could it be one of the demented creations of the Krath he had so much about? He checked his other holster to make sure his DN bolt-caster and flare gun were where they were supposed to be and then comprehension dawned on him. He was dealing with Sith which meant his master must be watching. Perhaps creativity would be of some value to his master. He replaced the maser with his bolt-caster. He focused on his greed and gluttony in order to find the force once more but all he discovered was that he was hungry. Hunger. He had little time before whatever Sith or Sith creation came rushing out of the door.

 

He focused on the hunger and let it drive him. He felt a powerful rush run through his multiple hearts like a primal urge. He struck a deal with the hunger and its ravenous legions. An alliance of sorts. If he let the hunger control him and open his connection to the force, he would eat the enemy whatever it was. His body from cranial top to wiggling tail felt energized and focused upon the force. Although his connection to the force was in no, part equal to that of a master he had a powerful connection nonetheless. He leveled his DN Bolt-Caster at the door. He would show the Sith creativity. He would melt the connections and tendons of this beast. He would liquefy this Sithspawn into an edible soup. Like Icarus this beast would fly too close to the sun.

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King Kheldar vos Correlli said:
Sheog, I have to ask, overkill much?
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Kaminoan technicians filed several reports on the difficulties of implanting the personality included in the file titled US-361953130-FS-S-1.

 

Their struggles were duly noted, replied to, compensated for, and in the end, they succeeded in doing what they had been instructed to do.

 

That did not mean the final produced clone was faultless. Uriel woke on the cloner's couch with a massive headache and memories of at least 2 separate lives, and no idea of how to reconcile which one had been or was real.

 

He could remember learning to run with a group, learning to support and be supported, and helping those unable to stay with the group improve. The lesson had been important, formative to whom he was, it had been at his core.

 

The memory would shift though, and the same companions whom had once helped those weaker them themselves had turned on the weakest members of the group and excised the imperfection from the group.

 

Various technicians assured him the confusion would pass and his mind would reconcile what was going on. Uriel wanted to throttle them, but decided that doing so would be even weaker than just focusing on being Sith. Whenever he felt confusion about whom he was, he used his anger at that weakness to banish it completely from his mind.

 

In between bouts of memory related problems, Uriel's time was spent becoming associated with the improvements of his new body. The components that made him what he was had been updated and improved in some very unexpected ways.. He was quite surprised and pleased with the part of the work done by the Kamino cloners.

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Uriel spent more than a few moments during his rehabilitation honing his connection to the dark side through various Sith rituals. Every time he did so, he found himself seeing a world through the eyes of another. It was a water world, and he kept seeing a temple with Sith elements, but was something else.

 

During a lull in his rehabilitation, he was researching those architectural elements he could remember on the holonet. He found his answer on a small, obscure site that purported to explain to the general public the differences between the various factions of Force Using traditions in the galaxy.

 

One of the factions with a very sparse description was the Krath, a faction of force users sometimes associated with the Sith, but often identified as being seperate. Of specific note was their emphasis on experimentation in whatever field their member was dedicated too.

 

It set Uriel back a moment. He had always assumed that he was simply going to pursue the path of the Sith. His desires, what he enjoyed and reveled in were best supported by the darkside.

 

Yet something in the description of the Krath appealed to something inside him. It was something quiet, something he had never heard in even those twilight moments just before sleep.

 

A tech, checking in on Uriel nearly lost his life when he dared to glimpse over Uriel's shoulder during his research earned that life back when helped the apprentice in his search by gasping out "Your master is a Krath" while being choked in an enraged apprentices grasp.

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The blast struck the creature, stopping it in its track as electricity crackled across its misshapen frame. Still, it was robotic systems that fueled this amalgam. After a few seconds of recovery, the krayt dragon's tooth was headed toward the gut of the worm, only there was no whish of a weapon slicing through air. Rather, there was the roar of a beast far removed from the present setting. Its maw still yearned to feel the crunch of organics.

 

Sasori said:
Travis said:
Why would you side with a group that is composed of some of the largest douche criminal scum from around the world?

To annoy you.

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(Sorry about this small wall of text.)

 

The Kaminoan tech that gingerly entered Uriel's private quarters sported a very familiar hand shaped bruise upon his neck. Uriel barely acknowledged the man's presence, instead focusing on a treatise he had found regarding the Krath on the Holonet. He had information now to go along with what was being whispered to him so sibilantly by the Darkside. Among the Krath he would find a new outlet for the demands of his various hungers, but in a quiet, disciplined way far removed from the often insane impulses of the other Sith.

 

”œExcuse me,”

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((OOC: Sorry about the lack of posting recently... Been trying to overturn a grade...))

 

Sheog gaped, as his blast seemed to have little to no effect except for a delicious frying smell that now wafted down the dark corridor. Something else wafted down the corridor (more like flew) the krayt tooth blade. The sithspawn leapt forward and shoved the blade towards his Impact Chain-Mail covered stomach. Sheog abandoned his mind to the depths of the force and let it drive him through his madness. Time seemed to slow (much as it did when one ate a Goborlack Cream Cake) the world darkened and Sheog's body began to move. The sithspawn's blade seemed to glow like Ikeran Iced Pudding and Sheog threw his large form to the side as the blade passed by his gut and nicked the chain-mail. As his form tumbled away, the force lit up a bench that jutted out from the corridor and he grabbed it with his chubby hands. He focused in the force and imagined the bench as a Keg of Cortyg Brandy too heavy for the servants to lift. The force augmented his strength as he ripped it from the wall and sped his actions as he spun around. The Krayt-tooth blade bit into the bench and the Sithspawn roared in anger. Like usual the force left him at the most inopportune moments and he was now left without the influence of the force.

 

The creature pulled against the bench in which its blade was embedded and Sheog was sent flying once more. Mid-flight he turned so he would not have his back to the enemy. He smashed against the far wall and slowly slid down leaving a greasy smear. He groaned and unclipped his oversized maser pistol and aimed it at the large beast being careful to focus on the front sight. He let loose a hail of blue (much akin to the weapon's creators) death down the hallway at the large beast.

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King Kheldar vos Correlli said:
Sheog, I have to ask, overkill much?
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