Korriban, the ancient homeworld of the Sith, was lost to them for a millennia. It was recovered in the early days of the Great Galactic War, and now that the Republic was forced into signing the Treaty of Coruscant the planet and its Sith Academy have thrived as a major center of learning for those who undertake the grueling trials to become a Sith. Korriban is a harsh planet, full of barren wastes and dangerous creatures and tombs of ancient Sith whose angry ghosts still haunt the land. Such dangers do not deter the living Sith from using the planet as a base of operations of all kinds, and the Imperial presence on the planet only increases with each passing year.

Whatever a Sith may desire, from deadly challenges to ancient wisdom to venues for political machinations, they can find what they want on Korriban... so long as they are strong enough to reach out and take it.

Sleek, dark metal rose high into the sky among the ancient stone and rust that made up most of the standing buildings on Korriban, and the setting sun gave it a gleaming halo. It was designed with the express intent to intimidate, and Darth Embrus could see its effects on the Acolyte that stood before him in the center of the old stone plaza that sat in front of the main entrance, though his awestruck attention also seemed to be pulled toward the Mandalorian standing silently two steps away from Embrus. The Overseer that had brought this young man to display his skills was less impressed by both the building and the mercenary, but then she had been there many times before to escort students of the Sith Academy who believed themselves worthy of Darth Embrus's attention. He humored them most of the time, but more often than not they were sent away with an earful of scathing criticism.

"Was that mess meant to impress me?" There was no need for the Acolyte to look at his face to know that his mouth was turned downward in a sneer, thanks to the venom dripping off the words. Truly the Human's performance of lightsaber forms and Force powers had been above average, but that question was always the first he asked of those hoping to become his Apprentice, and often the only one asked.

The Acolyte shook his head. "No, of course not. It was meant only to show you my potential." The Overseer's eyes narrowed in disappointment; the last hopeful student she'd brought before Darth Embrus had said something similar in response to the question and was sent away with scornful laughter. There were, of course, reasons she had never risen beyond the role of Overseer.

Darth Embrus's sneer turned into a faint smile as he nodded. Where the prior hopeful Acolyte had been donning feigned humility in a pitiful attempt to please, this one gave off an aura of sincere reflection on his inadequacy. "Good. You're not quite ready, but perhaps soon you will be." He turned a more obvious smile on the Overseer, born in large part from his amusement at her confusion. "He's got the perfect build and mentality for Djem So, but you incompetents have been focusing his training on Soresu. Correct that mistake and bring him back in a few months." The Overseer, a woman whose name Embrus had never bothered to learn, simply nodded and turned to leave before her anger could boil over and make her do something she might not live to regret, and the Acolyte gave him a respectful nod before he turned to follow.

"As fun as that was..." Zaek's dryly sarcastic remark did not require any further words to make it clear just how bored he was. "Before the interruption, we were discussing matters of payment. My services are worth double what you've been paying me, and we both know it."

"Ah, yes." Darth Embrus turned on heel and swept past the Mandalorian, beckoning for him to follow. "It's a good thing I like you, else I'd have cut you in half for your impertinence long ago."

The Mandalorian's snorted laugh was almost enough to make him follow through on the threat. "You could try. Ever tried cutting through beskar? You'd be better off throwing me around with your damned Force power. That way you'd actually win."

It was a clearly calculated insult, and the audacity of it amused Embrus enough to soothe his anger. Even if he threw Zaek around like a rag doll, it would be admitting that he was not good enough to best the fabled Mandalorian armor with his lightsabers alone. Attacking with just a lightsaber would perhaps be a fatal mistake if the first blow was not a killing blow, but to do otherwise would be to admit weakness. "You're a clever little bastard, I'll give you that. I ought to pay you for your wit rather than your skill with a blaster."

"I'll pass. I'm looking to double my pay, not cut it in half."

The odd pair shared a laugh as they strolled back into the Stronghold, greeted by the sounds of clashing lightsabers and grunts of exertion from Darth Embrus's favored students hard at work in the training hall. Rather than heading toward the sound, he led the way to his study and left the students to fend for themselves for the rest of their evening practice. This was far from the first time the Mandalorian had asked for a raise in his pay, but doubling it was a new extreme. Embrus was inclined to grant the request for one simple reason: Zaek was in fact worth the credits. Giving in and saying yes right away would be no fun though, so there were many more insults and jokes to be made before the deal was struck.

---

---

---

---

---

---

Tishombra yet again turned her blade to parry Shiygo’s blade. “You’re getting boring Shiygo.” Spinning she dropped and swept his feet. He was apparently ready for her and jumped over her long lean leg clad in skin tight white leather.

Smirking Tishombra jerked her head to the right while Shiygo was still airborne. Shiygo was tossed head over heels for a brief moment then he was steadied. Tishombra looked over at Raevys who had a hand up in Shiygo’s direction. Interfering little bendy bitch. Tishombra’s eyes went cold with anger.

Tishombra followed through with a leap at Shiygo. She spun into an impressive moulinet as she touched down bringing the single lightsaber down to his throat centimeters away from taking off his head. Such was her control the moulinet performed was flawless and spectacular. “You just cost him his life Raevys. Next time don’t interfere with my match.” Tishombra held the lightsaber on a moment longer, keeping intense eye contact with Shiygo. “I hope for your sake you’re not sleeping with her. You know the Master won’t like it.”

She gave a chilling smile and flicked off the lightsaber. Tishombra walked over to Raevys and looked her in the eye smirking. “He’s really not that impressive or inventive. And if his swordsmanship is anything to go by, you’ll be doing all the work. But then again you would be able to tell since you’re lacking in that area, so you’re both perfect for each other.” Tishombra turned away and walked out the door. Almost laughing as she walked down the hallway to the study.

She could hear the ensuing argument and slowed to a stroll her footfalls soft and nearly soundless. And here comes Hanna with just enough arrogance to push it over the edge. She could hear Lord Zisna snapping about how they just gave me a clear advantage. She was especially not happy with Shiygo who took the bait far too quickly. Tishombra sucked her teeth at that and silently stalked down the hall.

Slowing Tishombra thought about how to use this to her advantage. Ideally they could be positioned to pay more attention to each other than a rise in power. I don’t find it worth it but she seems to be attracted to him enough that I could use it to my advantage.

She found herself at the study door and decided that she was going to see if there was a reason that her Master had to possibly go on a mission off this rock. Lord Rahl had kept her busy with things to do. The last few months had been to establish her position behind the Lords in favor. She’d gained that now she needed to show her Master she could be just as indispensable.

She had sensed her Master’s presence but he had not come in to the training hall to watch them spar, as he normally did. She wondered what had his attention as she stopped at the door. Knocking politely she waited to be addressed. She smoothed down her bright red hair and adjusted the supple white leather skin tight outfit. The white brought out the red in her hair making it look like wet blood.

It covered her from neck to ankles and the white knee high low heeled boots blended with it to look seamless. Her arms were bare and you could see the lightning scar that ran from her right shoulder down to her elbow. A testament to what she could endure.

@Jorick

---

Korriban always invoked an odd sense of familiarity in Kutar Zema’s heart, like a home returned to after many years apart. The Sith warrior hated this commonality with the red planet, the sense was almost a confusing annoyance in his mind, like an implant stitched to his soul. The force attached him to this world, an inseparable bond unwillingly or perhaps willingly forged by his own connection to the force. He did not know for certain. Unlike the new Sith that so populated the Empire, Kutar did not think of the ancient sith homeworld with the same ‘fond’ memories. The new sith recognized it as the origin of their powers. He however was trained and raised on the near aquatic world of Dromund Kaas, utterly forgien to the cold drylands of Korriban. Kutar could not recall a time when the planet ever gave him a sense of comfort, yet in his mind’s eye the world embraced him like a long lost son, welcoming him back at last. Seated where he was, cross legged on the floor of his Imperial Shuttle’s bridge, unease filled his heart. Not from the planet’s climate or the innate force connection, but from his reasons for entering Korriban’s atmosphere in the first place. Had it been his choice, he would have taken his orders and left straight for the rendezvous point, avoiding the capital and his master all together. However the Empire and his master had never functioned in accordance to his personal wishes and never would. He was summoned directly, and the reasoning behind the summons was what filled Kutar with dread.

How long had it been? Years now seperated their last meeting, and after months of self imposed isolation Kutar found himself called before Darth Embrus for reasons unknown. After Savvory’s evaluation Kutar hoped to be back into his master’s graces again, a favored and loyal apprentice, yet it took months for orders to arrive, and they only to call him to Embrus’ dark tower. The implications Kutar thought, were not good. To many defeats, to many wounds and men lost to be ignored and forgotten by time. Embrus did not care to associate himself with such failures. Kutar had hoped that those mistakes be forgotten, so that he could collect himself from his slump. Apparently in vain.

“Sir, we have been cleared for landing and are entering Korriban’s atmosphere now. It should be roughly ten minutes before our final approach.” Opening his eyes Kutar found the two pilots had swiveled in their chairs and were watching him, concern in their gaze. The one who had spoken was a balding man in his forties, the flight officer in command of the shuttle. His executive officer was a younger man, more curious but just as reserved in his questions. They had spent the last fourteen hours watching him, wondering if he’d died in transit, so silent and still had Kutar been in meditation. They had been ever so careful not to disturb him, gingerly stepping around his bulk to relieve themselves or refill their canteens. Kutar had ungraciously planted himself on the bridge, all but blocking the door with his long legs and broad shoulders making such a trip to the vessel’s small latrine difficult to say the least. The upcoming landing must have given the flight officer the excuse he needed to finally say something that might stir their quiet passenger. Giving only a silent nod to humor the man Kutar closed his eyes once again, dreading the their inevitable arrival all the more.

The last stages of the flight were in essence as uneventful as the last fourteen hours. The Imperial shuttle made good time over the wastelands, dropping faster and faster until it was hovering over a venerable city. Ancient buildings of stone dominated the cityscape, irregularly marred by the occasional oddity structures that conformed to the whims of the Sith lords who resided within. A large glass dome here, a silvered spiral there and at last an intimidating tower of blackened steel. Orbiting the monolith twice Kutar’s ship swiveled on an invisible access before descending the final two hundred feet. The pilot was skilled in his craft, and the ship touched down gentler than Kutar ever could have managed. Pipes hissed and a spray of cool air wafted over the vessel’s inhabitants as the internal mechanisms adjusted the shuttle to Korriban’s atmospheric pressure.

In standing Kutar nearly fell over. His legs were dead, having been tucked under his weight for so long. Grabbing ahold of the pilot’s chair to steady himself Kutar waited a moment, letting the blood flow back into his lower limbs.

“Refuel and restock the ship, and then rest if you must.” He ordered once he felt he could walk again without stumbling. The younger pilot jumped at Kutar’s rumbling voice, he must have thought him a mute. “You may not leave the shuttle, I want it ready to depart the moment I return.” Leaving them to their ship-keeping the warrior crossed the platform, eating up the remaining distance with his long legged stride. Every step brought him closer to a confrontation, and Kutar did not know what to expect. Would he be praised, admonished, or simply given orders face to face? Praise was not likely, orders could be beamed across lightyears… Kutar’s hands curled into fists and he kept walking. Two guardsmen spotted him approaching, and made to intercept him before they recognized who he was, stepping smartly aside to allow the hulking apprentice to pass.

Every obstacle, every barrier moved aside, nothing coming between him and his objective, an almost amusing situation for a man so used to overcoming hurdles, having them non-forthcoming in the one time he would appreciate something slowing his advance. It brought a grim and ironic smile to his lips. Across the stone plaza he could hear Tishombra’s mocking voice and the sound of whirring lightsabers nearby. Kutar did not sense his master’s presence there amongst the training apprentices. In private then, he thought turning for Darth Embrus’ study.

Up and up he went, up the winding black stair his pace steady and resolved. Coward he called himself in his head. Coward who feared no man or thing but the stinging rebuke of his master. He needed no courage to face Darth Embrus, his master trusted him like no other. Kutar was his loyal servant, his strength and sword. Yet he feared the worst.

At last he stopped before the study doors, a silent behemoth in emotional turmoil, a seemingly unmoveable boulder but crumbling inside. His master was within, Kutar could tell, alongside another whose presence he did not recognize. Taking a well needed moment to calm the storm, Kutar took a deep breath exhaling his worries and fears and doubts as he would before a battle, concentrating only on the meeting before him. Raising one large hand he knocked, announcing his arrival at long last.

As the haggling between Darth Embrus and Zaek was winding down toward a conclusion quite favorable to the Mandalorian, Embrus lifted one hand and cut the other man off. “I have company on the way, and it seems he’ll be here shortly.”

“Anyone I know?” Zaek was leaned back comfortably in the single chair on the other side of the imposing desk that dominated one side of the room. “Haven’t seen that kid with all the stupid tattoos on his face in a while.”

Embrus chuckled and shook his head, remembering the sizzling of a lightsaber blade piercing flesh and the thud of a body hitting the floor. “Unfortunately, he turned out to be too weak to live. He was killed by— ah, she’s on her way as well. This will be interesting.”

The Mandalorian pushed himself up straight. Though his helmet covered his expression, there was no masking the wariness in his voice. “You predicting ‘interesting’ isn’t exactly the most comforting thing. Should I leave?”

“No, stay. We haven’t quite concluded our business, and I’ve a job for you. Perhaps you’ll leave here with a companion or two, if you’re particularly unlucky.”

“Great.” Zaek slumped back in his chair, making it quite clear through silence and body language that he was glaring at the man behind the desk.

Darth Embrus did not mind in the least, of course. He knew the Mandalorian was not very fond of working with others, but this time there was good cause for it beyond his own amusement. Silence filled the room as he waited for Kutar and Tishombra, sensing their approach through the tenuous bond shared between master and apprentice. His connection with Kutar was far stronger, as it should be after so many years of close association, but that history would only serve to make their coming meeting all the more painful for the Apprentice. Tishombra’s presence would doubtlessly cause problems, but what fun was there to be had in a life without complications?

After an extended wait, there was a heavy knock at the door. Darth Embrus waited quietly, allowing seconds to drag on in what must be excruciating fashion for Kutar, and Zaek for that matter, but he was far from concerned with their comfort. After about half a minute there was another knock, a lighter sound clearly caused by a hand that wasn’t quite so suited for crushing skulls. The Mandalorian made to rise and free up the sole chair in the room not occupied by Embrus himself, but he shook his head sharply and Zaek settled back down with an irritated sigh. With the stage properly set for an interesting little confrontation, Embrus gestured to the door and pulled it open with a simple use of telekinesis as he spoke a single word to the pair waiting outside.

“Enter.”

Tishombra looked up at Kutar. He made her look positively petite, and that was hard to do since she was just shy of two meters tall. She arched an eyebrow at him as if asking the question ‘You first or me?’. Either was fine with her. Him first so she could see where to put the knife later, possibly. Or her first to see if he resided in that antiquated tradition of ‘Ladies first.’ and if so… well she’d just have to make sure it wasn’t just for show. Never let a good advantage go.

After all he wouldn’t be the only one that behaved differently in front of the Master. She however was ever one to not get caught up in acting differently toward the Master, especially in his presence. Not that he wasn’t different from her last Master, but this one, he seemed more likely to appreciate an Apprentice that was themselves around him. Albeit without glaringly apparent flaws. She endeavored to squash hers as much as possible. No one was perfect, but she was working on being close to it.

Tishombra glanced into the room and saw someone else within the study as well as her Master. Though she could only see from the waist down, due to the bulk of Kutar and not wanting to lean over and oggle. Judging from the juxtaposition of the legs she guessed the guest was male. She took in his well worn armor and the lack of really anything that screamed uniform. The color was over all similar and that stood out. Something vaguely familiar about the way certain pieces fit but without seeing the full effect Tishombra was loath to assume one faction of mercenaries or another.

Tishombra flicked eyes over to Embrus with her raised brow then back to his guest. Well it isn’t an Inquisitor, nor a Military Commander. Judging by the quality, or lack thereof, in this case; ‘he’ is a mercenary. He’s not Force Sensitive either, I’d have felt that. Well I wonder how much he’s tried to talk Embrus out of? Or maybe they haven’t settled on a number and a distraction is just what the doctor ordered? That will be more fun than flustering the one armed man. Or maybe a two for one? Challenge accepted. Tishombra looked back up at Kutar and smiled sinfully.

His own lips did not reciprocate her impious grin. The recondite scene that Kutar found himself confronted by did little to ease his overall concerns, and his face was set in an expression of grim callousness. He’d never shared his master’s charismatic jovilty for casual banter, meeting every situation with a level of seriousness upon which playfulness and jokes were lost. This, he thought, was no time for foolish smirking, and while Tishobra’s presence might very well have been chance his own was in regards to an important summons. The searing glare Tishombra received in response to her smile left little doubt that Kutar wanted her gone, to return another time. Yet he made no effort to insinuate this desire through words, he would not speak for Embrus. Should his master have desired for her to leave he would have said as much, rather than commanding them both to enter. Suppressing an exasberated sigh Kutar ducked through the doorway taking two full steps within before sinking down on one knee, bowing his ebony head.

“Master, it has been far too long. I have returned as you wished.” Raising his head Kutar met his master’s gaze, all but ignoring the seated mercenary. He’d already gotten a good account of the manolorian, and where his senses had failed him the warrior apprentice was quick to recognize the infamous Zaek Saxon by sight alone, even behind his blue and silver armor. He had been employed enough times by Embrus to warrant Kutar’s on sight recognition, even though the two had never worked together directly. Saxon however, was the least of Kutar’s concerns at the moment, and the apprentice remained acutely focused on his master alone.

Though Embrus couldn’t clearly see any exchange between his Apprentices, he knew them both well enough to know Tishombra’s very presence was irksome at best to Kutar. As the large man entered and knelt to deliver his subservient greeting, Embrus looked on impassively and remained silent for an extended handful of seconds, both to allow Tishombra to enter if she pleased and to allow the tension to build. Kutar had never struck him as the sort to be intimidated by mere silence, but the flat stare that held not a speck of fondness or approval was another matter. After he tired of the quiet, Embrus got straight to the point.

“You’ve become a disappointment, Kutar.” He leaned forward in his chair, planting one fist into the table with a heavy thud for emphasis. Before him the apprentice flinched, as if struck a heavy blow, reacting more to the venomous words than any proper strike would have elicited. As Embrus continued, his voice held simmering heat that hinted at untold depths of fury being restrained. “I had high hopes for you, but after so many years among my favored pupils you’ve lost your way as a Sith. I would rather have seen you become a traitor, because then at least you would be worthy of death by my hand. As you are now, for all your vaunted skills as a warrior, you’re barely even worthy of pity. I’ve considered ridding you from my service entirely, especially after viewing the recording of your chat with Savvory.”

Darth Embrus sat back casually, letting the anger in his voice fade to mere annoyance. “But I am loath to cast away those with potential for greatness. The only question that remains is whether or not you have it in you to cast off the chains you’ve so lovingly embraced.” This manner of oblique castigation rather than outright stating why exactly he was displeased with a subordinate was one of Embrus’s favored methods of drawing things out to an agonizing degree, but in this one case he felt it might be worth the effort it would take to offer some hints rather than expecting Kutar to figure out his failures on his own. He hadn’t yet gotten there on his own, so there was no reason to expect he’d manage it now.

“Tishombra, you’ve interacted with Kutar and have certainly heard much about him from your peers. Perhaps you can help him identify how he fails to live up to what is expected of a true Sith.” Embrus knew he was playing with fire by getting the new rising star of his favored group involved in this conversation about the failings of the old favorite. Some uncomfortable shifting from the sitting Mandalorian made it clear that Zaek knew it was a potentially dangerous scenario as well. That was all part of the fun though, and Embrus had a twisted little smile on his face as he waited to see how it would play out.

Tishombra moved gracefully into the room and went to one knee with a flourish resting her right hand over her heart. She did this because she knew it would piss off Kutar, as well as call attention to her scar. She stayed silent as Kutar stated the obvious. She raised an eyebrow at Kutar’s bent head. If what the other gossip-mongering children have said about him is half true then he should be debasing himself more. Better to beg forgiveness than ask permission. I’ve never held to that saying though. I have yet to beg. Then again I have yet to rise.

Darth Embrus was clearly disappointed with Kutar. From the vague whispers that Tishombra had heard it was from his lack of ambition. Kutar was worse than Shiygo. Shiygo at least got underlings to do things for him. Kutar had no passion, no drive to make more of himself as so clearly the Master saw.

Tishombra smirked for a moment and made eye contact with the guest in the room. Or what would have been eye contact if Zaek wasn’t wearing his helmet. She recognized him now that Kutar wasn’t in the way.

Watching her Master tie Kutar up for dissection so neatly made her glad that she hadn’t made the same mistake. As her Master asked her to point out Kutar’s shame she rose soundlessly. She looked over at Kutar and made it look as if leaned back against the desk. Her bare arms propped lightly behind her. Her face devoid of all emotions she looked down at Kutar.

“He has become enamored with a lie. Peacefully lost in his complacency. Stagnant.” She tilted her head and smiled like a cat that ate the canary. Her gold eyes twinkled with mischief as she went on.[color=orangered] “Kutar is passionless and weak. He can be forgiven for losing an asset to you Master but he lacked the power that could have kept Kyla Vondin in his grasp. Power he could have had, if he had but taken the time to cultivate it; upon the numerous times that a favored of my Masters has had the opportunity. Victory could have been his had he utilized his influence. The weight of his chains must tire him.”

Tishombra dropped all pretense of being remotely anything but disgusted. “Nwûl tash. Dzwol shâsotkun. Shâsotjontû châtsatul nu tyûk. Tyûkjontû châtsatul nu midwan. Midwanjontû châtsatul nu asha. Ashajontû kotswinot itsu nuyak. Wonoksh Qyâsik nun.” Her tone remained utterly passionate and devoted as she spoke. Looking down at Kutar she sneered. “Let me translate for you so you get the point. Peace is a lie, there is only passion. Through passion, I gain strength. Through strength, I gain power. Through power, I gain victory. Through victory, my chains are broken. The Force shall set me free.”

Tishombra’s anger at the misuse of resources that could have been put to better use in other’s hands bled through her tone as she chastised Kutar. She managed to leash her anger, but it is there for all to see. Her eyes blazed as if lit from behind with fire as she grasped the edge of the desk so that she wouldn’t go for one of the two sabers that she had on her. She might be angry at Kutar but unless the Master wished it otherwise he would live.

Darth Embrus chuckled quietly to himself as Tishombra wrapped up her explanation. “That was more elaborate than expected, but that works. Now, I—” He fell suddenly silent as the fourth person in the room let out a heavy sigh.

“Seriously?” Zaek looked over to the still kneeling Kutar, then back to Embrus. “All this song and dance because you’re upset with his complacency? If you weren’t paying me so well, I’d have been done with your dramatic bullshit years ago.”

“Succinctly put, I suppose.” Rather than displaying anger, the smile on Embrus’s face only grew wider. “Complacency, yes. That is indeed the problem at hand.” He turned his amused gaze on Kutar, but it quickly curdled into another hard stare. “I trust you need no further elaboration on your failures.”

“No.” Rage burned bright in Kutar’s tone, a terrible fire fighting against the bars to be unleashed, but he controlled his lesser instincts, keeping his knee bent and his face set in objective resignation. Even still his cybernetic hand betrayed his feelings, clenching into a fist so firm it near dented the metallic fingers. “You have trained her well, and everything has been laid bare to be witnessed and corrected. She recognized in a moment, that which I wished to ignore, and spoke the truth I needed to hear. I came before you fearing retribution for a string of defeats I thought unacceptable, though now it is evident you see them only as a symptom, not the disease I stand accused of. Being without passion, mired in complacency.”

There was truth in those words Kutar knew, yet they tasted sour on his tongue. He longed to defend himself, and insist his months in isolation were in preparation for the challenges of the future, but he was fully aware Darth Emburs would see straight through any such tactless deflection. Besides, he could not deny the comfort he felt in service, the rugged simplicity of fighting and following orders. There was always complexity to every command, but it was based on consistency. The chains Tishombra spoke of did not feel heavy to Kutar, they felt familiar, like an old and trusted suit of armor worn into every battle. Recognition did not come easy to Kutar, but he drank the bitter draft all the same.

“Master, you demand more from me. More that I fear I am unworthy to provide, yet, I shall make it my highest aspiration to serve you in this way.” A lie? Kutar did not know for certain himself, not when another blurred his vision, consuming his waking thoughts as much as his resting dreams. He felt unbalanced in Embrus’ presence to a degree he had not felt in many years. Mercilessly torn asunder between two unyielding desires. “I swore to never fail you again, and I did not make that promise lightly. I shall do my utmost to cultivate this power you demand, to shed my chains, and when I come before you again, be proven worthy of your approval. Whatever it takes.”

“That was the correct response. We shall see if you have it in you to see it through.” Darth Embrus’s hard stare had faded into a more neutral expression as Kutar accepted the explanation of his weakness, and his voice slipped back into a smoother tone along with it. “Until you do, you have no place here among my favored subordinates. You’re free to do as you please to pursue the growth you’ve been lacking. You won’t find me in such a lenient mood if you continue to fail me, Kutar.” Threat though it was, there was no heat to it. Rather it was stated as a simple fact, and Embrus knew his Apprentice had seen him fulfill plenty enough threats of that variety to take it seriously.

“Now, on to more interesting matters. Zaek, you’ll have your requested raise in pay, starting with your next job.” The Mandalorian let out a satisfied chuckle and waved a hand for Embrus to continue. “The Emperor himself has taken an interest in someone that the Jedi have acquired. You are going to join the group being assembled to intercept and retrieve them. You’ll receive the details shortly.”

“Got it. I’ll—” Zaek made to stand and presumably leave, but he was halted by a raised hand from Darth Embrus.

“Tishombra, you’ll accompany him. Neither of you is leading this mission, to be clear. I expect both of you to follow any orders given by the Captain who will be placed in charge and ensure the success of the mission above all other concerns.” Embrus glanced briefly to Kutar, then back to Tishombra and Zaek without addressing him directly. “That will be all, unless any of you have other matters to discuss.” Zaek pushed up out of his chair immediately and headed for the door, moving with surprising speed for a man in full armor and leaving both Apprentices behind without bothering to say a word to either of them.

Tishombra composed herself as she listened to Kutar address Embrus. Well at least he somewhat knows how to grovel. Maybe he can rise above this. That is far too promising. Kutar has been with the Master for much longer than I have. This bears careful watching. She noted that the speech was like a lump caught in Kutar’s throat. She tilted her head and studied Kutar closer.

The blow of not being in Embrus’ presence did not shock Tishombra nor the heatless threat from Embrus. She was not unaware that even without heat the threat was a real one. She’d seen people killed for less.

As Embrus moved on to Zaek. Narrowing in on the Mandalorian Tishombra raised an eyebrow at the satisfied chuckle that came from him. Tishombra’s attention was immediately drawn back to Embrus as he mentioned the Emperor. Now that is just the political move we need. Acquisition of this person would give us leverage even if we have to turn them over to someone else.

Tishombra kept her focus on Embrus as Zaek moved to stand and he was cut off. She inclined her head in acknowledgement then bowed it as Embrus stated that neither of them would be in charge. Tishombra shook her head at the question that Embrus posed. She bowed to Embrus as Zaek made a hasty exit. “By your leave Master.”

Tishombra looked up eyes shining brightly like twin stars. Excitement pouring off her as she mentally ran over what she was taking and what her plans were. I will be there when they are captured. Getting to know the Captain and crew couldn’t hurt either. Zaek could be of assistance as well. Research. A girl’s work is never done.

Standing to his full, towering height Kutar waited until the others were well and truly gone before breaching the topic on his mind. His master was not the only one who could draw out the silence, commanding the ebb and flow of conversation. Still Darth Embrus seemed content to wait, and Kutar saw no reason to delay any longer. The orders he’d given to Tishombra and Zaek, they were a hint, a ploy Kutar was sure of it. Embrus was wont to be subtle, an aspect of his personality that normally flew clear over even Kutar’s lofty head. This time, he’d caught it.

“You must be very pleased by Tishombra’s advancing skills master. An order from the Emperor himself? This mysterious personage must be of great importance to the Empire, and will not be easy to apprehend. To give one of your newer apprentices such a momentous task, her prowess... One can only imagine the implications.” Kutar’s own attempts at subtly were near laughable, but he maintained his presence of mere casual interest nevertheless. Whether Embrus saw through the ploy or not did not matter, all Kutar needed was a simple answer of approval to intervene himself. He stepped cautiously forward, resting his hands on the impousing desk and leaning down, the hardwood creaking under his enormous weight. “The one who captures this, individual, they would become known before the Emperor and the Dark Council would they not?”

“An order?” Darth Embrus shook his head with an almost wistful sigh. “If only it were so easy. This information was acquired through more discreet means. As for Tishombra, yes, she’s progressing quite nicely. The others often complain about her, much the same as they once complained about you. Envy is such an interesting emotion.” There was an unmistakable hint of mockery to the words, but Embrus let it fall from his tone as he continued. “As for the potential rewards for participating in this endeavor, who can say? The Council and the Emperor can be fickle with their favor, and pleasing any one of them might anger two others. This time, however, it’s a risk I’m willing to take. Everything I’ve read about Captain Corvinian has been positive enough to make me confident in his abilities, so I expect the mission to go smoothly.”

Dropping the name of the man tapped to lead the retrieval mission was about as subtle as throwing a rock at Kutar’s head, but given his dreadful attempt at indirectly approaching the matter Embrus felt it was the only reasonable course of action to get him on the right path short of handing over the holopad with the information on it. He flicked a hand toward the door as if shooing an insect. “Now go, you have your orders.”

Taking a single step back Kutar knelt once more in solemn reverence before his master. The apprentice’s knee bent in willing submission, and his head dipped without concealed malice or false humility. Although stinging in his rebuke, his master had given him the opportunity for redemption, and there could be no mistaking the unspoken command past the uttered word. Despite his best efforts he could not keep the shadow of a smile from appearing, if only for it to vanish in a heartbeat behind his cool facade. Assuming Embrus required no further verbal oaths and gratitude he made to depart, knowing the Darth’s patience though shockingly vast could be stretched to a breaking point. One Kutar did not hope to rediscover for the second time that day. He would not be so foolish as to sour his chances before the mission had even begun. Standing the warrior place his fist over his heart in a final salute before turning on his heel and marching from the study, his swirling black cloak following behind.

Stepping from Darth Embrus’ chambers lifted an oppressive weight from Kutar’s haggard shoulders. For so long the he’d wasted away in the dark recesses of his own mind, dreading the inevitable, sixteen long years of dedicated service wasted. So long had he been training under Darth Embrus he still recalled when his master was known as Lord Vhil Raszac, and he Kutar was his first and only apprentice. Nothing could be worse than losing his honored place in Embrus’ hall, a fate he’d come so close to knowing, yet in somewhat painless fashion it’d been scrubbed away.. For all the burdensome preconditions looming overhead, necessary to avoid a similar conversation in the near future, Kutar no longer fretted the simple journey laid before him. The mission had high stakes, and a plethora of opportunities for failure no doubt, but those were not ordained. Force of will, wit, and strength of arms were the path forward now, and Kutar did not doubt himself in those regards. No, the greater concern on Kutar’s mind was the mammoth task he would rather ignore altogether. As Tishombra had intoned, the cultivation of his influence. Pleasing the Dark Council, or even just a few of the members while becoming a recognizable name to the others would be an acceptable start, but that was only the first and smallest hurdle to overcome. The enormous undertaking, and all the complications it entailed replaced the mental burden he’d just been relieved of, nearly bending him under its pressure. How could he possibly fulfill his master’s demand to his lofty satisfaction?

“Lord Zema,” he tested the title in a whisper, tasting the flavorless and pointless formality on his tongue. That would be his end goal, however unwanted it was. For a moment, in the unfairness of it all Kutar felt an unusual anger flourishing, one he wasn’t sure even existed before but now there was no denying its presence. So engrossed was he in his thoughts Kutar failed to notice the approaching back of Tishombra until he nearly ran her over, stopping at the last moment and glancing down at the younger apprentice before him. Darth Embrus’ favored, he reminded himself his jaw clenching in remembrance of his anger he’d been forced to conceal in his master’s presence. For a second Kutar contemplated revealing he would be joining her, but he resisted the urge, forcing himself to remain courteous, as one should be to the master’s favored.

“Tishombra, I imagine you are off to prepare for your mission, I wish you good fortune. Our Master has made it most clear he is pleased with your progressing skills, and I have no doubt you will be met with success, if you have earned his confidence so convincingly.” Every flattering word was spoken through semi-clenched teeth, that resembled both a smile and a snarl. Turning his face away so it would not betray him Kutar fell into step beside her, slowing his own pace to match hers.

Tishombra had paused in the hall to look out the window at the Korriban landscape. Kutar’s shuffling to not run into her brought her around to the present and she turned as he addressed her. She tilted her head spilling her hair over her slim shoulder. “Do I detect jealousy Kutar?”

Tishombra strolled down the corridor her tread measured and easy more to aggravate her companion and draw him out. “If? Oh, there is no if about my having earned the Master’s confidence. I’m here after all, that should tell you something. Little piece of free advice Kutar. Your words are sweet but your tone is bitter. Fix it, or you may not come back alive from the Master’s presence the next time. I may yet have the opportunity to watch the light fade from your amber eyes. Even Shiygo might live longer than you at the rate you’re going. And that would be a pity.” Tishombra’s strides lengthened and she grinned as she waited for Kutar’s response.

Unable to suppress a rumbling laugh Kutar came to a halt, allowing Tishombra to gain several paces on him as he shook in genuine merriment. The absurdity of it astounded him, her honest self-assurance on these matters left him in a state of uncharacteristic mirth, if only for a few moments. Shaking his great head Kutar strode to catch up, struggling to regain his somber composure, wondering if the ‘advice’ he’d just received was told in a serious manner, or if she was once again playing with him, trying to ruffle his nerves. If the latter was the case it’d resulted in the opposite effect on the normally no-nonsense warrior, leading to a hint of admiration in his low tones. “I will admit it, I am somewhat envious of your confidence Tishombra, you do not seem the one to flaunt yourself without good reason, though I have never been the most capable at reading people. Our Master chose well, I think. Still, you musn’t doubt my ability to survive the Master’s presence, as it happens I have served him longer than you’ve been wielding your lightsaber. Should I have been a lesser apprentice I doubt at this very moment I would be speaking to you, or anyone else for that matter. As you said, I am here after all, and that should tell you something.”

Tishombra raised an eyebrow at the laughter. So he does have a sense of humor. How droll. Her grin as he caught up spoke of mischief. She watched as he caught up and gracefully moved over a bit so that he could walk beside her. She raised an eyebrow at the admiring turn that his tone took on. Envious? And he said that he doesn’t know how to suck up?!

Laughing softly and seductively Tishombra tossed her hair off her shoulders to spill down her back with a soft whisper as it settled on to her back. “That, my dear Kutar, tells me that the Prodigal Son returns. You may have been serving the Master longer than I but you’re not as venerable as you put on. I don’t doubt your ability to survive. I simply point out that there are only so many chances. Besides, you have no idea how old I really am. Unless of course you’ve done your homework. Which if you have you’d know that I would be a good... person to have on your side.”

Smoothly Tishombra cut in front of Kutar facing him she invaded his space. “Flattery is nice but I prefer a sparring partner that knows what they’re doing. One tires of fellow Apprentices that need help to win a fight in practice. Plus all the in fighting.” She rolled her eyes and stalked around Kutar. She made sure she wasn’t touching him but she was so close that it could have been mistaken for a much more intimate conversation.

She came back around and looked up at him from under her lashes. “Favors go a long way in my book.” Tishombra smiled impishly.

“One needs only eyes to see what is right in front of them.” He responded in due fashion, folding his hands behind his back. Their physical differences in vertical dimensions kept them apart, but had they been on equal footing they would have been nose to nose. Distinctly uncomfortable with the close near-contact Kutar side-stepped around Tishombra, putting his back to her as he stared out a nearby window, as if transfixed by the going-ons down below. Not for the first time that day Kutar felt out of his depth, outmatched by someone who knew how to needle and prod at the nexu, just enough to irritate the beast into lunging forward into the waiting trap. He’d seen it often enough by the fighters in the slave battle pits, and now Tishombra used it against him, manipulating him to where she wanted him to be. Never in a thousand years would Kutar expect her, a Sith pureblood to truly fancy the aging son of a slave, brought high only by the chance of the force. He banished the notion the moment the longing stirred in his chest. It was an act, a strategy or ploy well planned and executed but flawed by its very nature. He would have to play into her game Kutar realized, this was a fight he could not win, but he could still gain.

“I am not one to make promises idly, or to shirk from my word.” He assured her at long last, turning from the aperture. “As it happens, we may be getting to know each other rather well over the next couple weeks, as obligations demand. Darth Embrus has allowed me to accompany the mission and lend my support. You’ll get your boon, and a ‘sparring’ partner as well if you so desire. What I ask in return? Well, you were present, you know what I need.”

Tishombra watched Kutar side step her and she turned to watch his back. He was unnerved by her being so close? Tishombra smirked at the thought. “Well we shall see if you can take advantage of the opportunities that come available. Tell me what is your greatest strength, Kutar?”

Tishombra was curious as to what his answer would be. She moved beside him, also looking out the window. She wasn’t as close and crowding him as earlier but she was close enough that she couldn’t be ignored. She leaned a hip on the ledge and turned her body toward him keeping her face in profile.

For many moments as the silenced held between them, and the question hung heavy on the atmosphere Kutar considered scorning her inquiry outright. It was an unexpected query, and put on the spot Kutar did not possess a clear answer to give. He wondered at her reasons behind the question, whether it was pointed or well considered. Did she plan on using his answer against him? Or was it mere curiosity fueling her? Of the two Kutar could not determine and he hesitated to put thoughts to words, hating how even her simple questions racked him with doubt and suspicion. “We are not so close as to share such secrets, are we?” He asked, caution edging his voice. “Would you be willing to reveal your greatest weakness unto me?”

Tishombra raised an eyebrow. “Your greatest weakness was plain for all to see. You have already revealed it. But whether or not you answer is irrelevant. Play to your strengths, or don’t. Your choice. I always change the game if it isn’t to my liking.” She smirked turning her face toward Kutar. “I dare you to ask me how I manage that.”