@Honesty Crow

Pestage's Folly



For the briefest of moments the woman went silent, her eyes flickering at the mention of the Bothan's clan name and things began to fall into place. He'd played her, not for his benefit entirely, though it was clear he derived a great deal of amusement from her reaction. His mind erratic as it was spoke for an order in the chaos and Miryia declined to probe further, not wanting to risk what almost always happened when she tried to read the minds of the uninitiated (and even some who were) into the mysteries of force craft. She laughed, it might have been the only genuine laugh she'd laughed in a long age. "Vas'Ah, I begin to understand why you're among the few nonhumans in Imperial leadership" she inclined her head to the side, as if acknowledging his game and she straightened slightly, a serpent infurling its hood so that one who earned the right to gaze might get a better look. "I knew your clan, not entirely personally, but your reputation was well earned before the Thousand years war." As a Padawan both her and her master were assigned to protect a Bothan Senator of that clan, his rhetoric and his relentlessness against his political enemies had admittedly inspired some of her later movements against the Sith.

As phasma was introduced and bowed, the Arkanian's smile constricted into a smirk. "You've trained this one well, though I thought she was a product of our genetic engineering until I came close enough to take in her scent, she's baseline human..Albeit remarkable for the ordinary." It was then the topic shifted to Pestage and Miryia's eyes grew slightly harder, she'd planned on accusing him of knowing there was a forged relic and sending them out to die. It was a good line to lead with if predictable, but perhaps he opened additional doors? And other vectors? His eyes seemed to catch what she was thinking, ever a student of body language were Bothans as it was their way to know how to manipulate the people they wished to manipulate. Knowing this she allowed a nod in confirmation and opted not to debase his intelligence by lying to him but to lead with the truth and her own insights. "I am the only one who can refute the lies that wrinkled, prune of a malcontented reprobate is likely spinning to cover for the fact that he sent the remnants of the Five Hundred and First, Admiral Karius and myself out there under escorted because he expected it would be depressingly easy to abscond with the Holocron. And if by mischance a fleet of terrorist trash from Alliance space entered our vicinity, well it was no loss." To say nothing, she thought; of the fact that both he and that aged, chandrillan tart were both made to look absolutely foolish by whomever among the three who arrived that had truly stolen the holocron.

The Rebels looked worse, for it was on their watch the fraud took place, for after hearing what the bartender said she knew they had the genuine article once before. "Walk with me, if that diseased, hoodrat and his flock of garbage eaters believe they can use this to deprive the Remnant of proper soldiers and deny me then they are fools far more deserving of a beating than that wretched beast you sent to retrieve me is..."

Miryia moved forward, the fabric trailing around and behind her giving the impression she slithered more than walked. One of her hands twitched, she'd held herself in check and played the dutiful subordinate for far too long and it was clear she was chafing on her self imposed chains.

Making it clear she wanted blood.

She'd nearly flown up the steps and made it halfway through the great hall of the Senate building before the other two caught up to her. Before them several Stormtroopers in crimson motioned to stop her "sorry Master Janus, we were given orders that only the director and his...." the trooper stopped talking the moment his gaze fell on the Arkanian's, the hall seemed to grow smaller around him, the air stuffy and took a breath "Are you his guest?"

A slight nod was all the confirmation he needed to justify giving into the terror he began to feel and the doors opened. To the guards surprise, Miryia allowed Raveem to enter beside her, the only an inch or so of space ahead of him, which was an odd thing. In the two months that she'd attended these meetings she allowed none of her escorts or those who were part of the meetings but walked in with her to be fewer than ten paces behind her.

As they moved closer to the archway leading to the former Senate chamber where they gathered before entering the main Senate Hall, she could hear the bickering already and laughed derisively. The pathetic scavengers didn't even have enough of to fill a qaurter of the Senate chamber and so bartered and bickered like back alley thugs haggling over spice prices, the sterility of prostitutes or the availability of Deathsticks.

And soon a new sound emerged over the fray, her contemptuous laughter that rose like a hiss, brimming with venom and a sort of madness that many wrote about but few understood.

"Ah, Admiral Karius!" Grand Admirals Grant and Tigellinus, who looked like they would rather be attending one of the balls going on in orbit at one of the Sky palaces finally perked up as the odd trio entered. Miryia threw her arms open in a cross like manner, her cloak flowing behind her, casting a hooded shadow about the room. "I came, because Director-General Raveem here was so kind as to warn me that you were in danger! But I see no threat to you here" Her voice grew cold, its melodies wove from their usual formality into something more potent, commanding and condemnatory. "I do see a great many vultures! I look about me and see" she turned her head now eying some Moff's "The weak" her gaze leveled to several others and two Generals "The feckless" again her eyes shifted towards those born of lower class "The Help"

And then she turned to Sate Pestage "And the absurd" she spoke the last part loudly, her voice echoed through the room in challenge.

But she wasn't so provincial as to challenge his authority, no as far as she was concerned the matter of his right to rule was decided, her inflection made it clear she was hitting him low and outright questioning his mental capacities. As if to say he was too cognitively impaired to rule more than a tablet and some coloring lazers and perhaps a toy speeder or two.

As Miryia entered along with the Bothan, who almost skipped as he entered the room, those within grew silent. All that was left was Grand Admiral Pitta and Grand Vizier Pestage laughing, coincidentally, at Karius and Miryia's unfortunate mission. However, when they turned to see who the new arrivals were, Pestage froze. For a moment, Miryia saw the look of fear in his eyes. The gaze of a deer caught in headlights as he is about to be run over. Pitta on the other hand, developed a confrontational attitude the moment Miryia, Raveem and Phasma approached. He knew the Bothan would cause problems, yet Pestage refused to listen. The other high ranking officers simply stared at the new arrivals while more prominent figures like Il-Raz, General Mohc, Grant, Makati, Batch, Takel, Tigellinus, Hissa, Traeda, Disra, Muzzer, Thistleborn, and Dunhausen were smart enough to smell a confrontation coming. They all began to slowly move toward whatever they could use to hide behind. Some remained in their place however. Mohc reached for his blaster the moment Miryia walked in. Grant, Karius and Il-Raz stood their ground as well, however none of them were intimidated by the sudden appearance of the powerful Force user. In fact, Karius, who was drinking some scotch, raised his glass in her direction. He had been looking forward to this all day long. Part of him knew she would find a way to show up. Another who also stood their ground was none other than Ysanne Isard the head of Imperial Intelligence, who saw the moment as an opportunity. She had been conspiring with Octavian Grant, Rom Mohc and Takel to take down Pestage. However, it seemed like that moment would come sooner rather than later. Admiral Palleon and Captain Rae Sloane, who were standing in a corner of the room also prepared themselves. While the sudden arrival of Miryia caught Sloane by surprise, it confirmed Palleon's suspicious that Pestage was attempting to rid himself of two very powerful challengers to his power. This would not end well.

"You." The Grand Vizier pointed a shaking finger toward Miryia. "How dare you walk in here without summons?" In his later years, Pestage had developed an illness that made his hands shake uncontrollably. This, coupled with his age made him look physically weak and feeble. It didn't help that was being faced down by someone who could kill him with the snap of her fingers.

"She didn't, Your Excellency. Lady Miryia of House Janus is here as my most honorable gue-" Before Raveem could finish his statement, Pitta began to shout over him.

"Silence you sack of fleas! I knew it was a mistake to trust you. You xeno are all the same! Dishonest, dishonorable, and untrustworthy beasts who should be enslaved or put into the ground!" As he spoke, Pitta invaded the Bothan's space towering over him in an attempt to intimidate him. Raveem smirked as the Grand Admiral lost his composure. That only seemed to anger him even more.

"Enough!" Pestage shouted, making the Grand Admiral recoil back. "Guards. Arrest Miryia and the Bothan."
Members of the Royal Guard, who had pledged their allegiance to the Grand Vizier stepped forward pointing their vibro spikes at the new arrivals.

"You will do no such thing." Tigellinus stepped forward, stepping behind Pestage and Pitta. "Your Excellency." He began, briefly glancing at Miryia with a smirk. Previously, Tigellinus had pledged allegiance to Karius and by proxy, to Miryia. Karius and the Grand Admiral had become friends in the academy, and the two shared a bond that transcended their allegiance to the Empire. "I suggest you don't jump to conclusions. Lady Miryia and the Director-General may have some good insight into the failed mission at Onderon. Which you authorized."

"What are you waiting for? Arrest them!" Pestage started to back away slowly as the crimson dressed guards hesitated to follow his orders. Pitta, however, had waited long enough. He had known since the beginning that the Bothan would betray them. And he wouldn't allow the alien to live any longer. The Grand Admiral then drew his blaster, pointing it at the Bothan's head.
"This! This is why the Empire should have never accepted aliens in its midst. They are but rabid creatures who crave nothing but disorder and chaos. It ends now."

Phasma acted quickly in the defense of her master, pulling out a vibro spike of her own that she had hidden on her belt. The ISB agent pointed it right at Pitta's neck. "I will only warn you once, sir. Put the weapon down."

"And you…" He glared at Phasma, still pointing the gun at Raveem's face. "You're just a pretender. A mutant. I'll deal with you too when the time comes." Despite the threats, the Grand Admiral didn't stand down. Raveem reacted by raising his hands to the sides dramatically, feigning surrender. Ishin Il-Raz who was standing by Karius, also drew his own blaster.

"Let's not forget the real traitor here. Admiral Karius and his co-conspirator Director Isard. I know you two have been plotting to take down the Grand Vizier from the start. My COMPNOR contacts have told me everything!" Il-Raz backed away a little as he saw Tilleginus draw on him as well.
"You're no soldier. Put it down." The Grand Admiral downed the whole glass of scotch before tossing it aside. Soon, almost every single person in attendance were pointing guns at each other. Minor officers either pointed guns at the Bothan or at Miryia or even at each other. The Governors present also didn't hesitate to draw on each other. Suddenly, the room fell dead silent as everyone stood there waiting for someone to open fire first.

The silence was suddenly broken by Raveem giggling. "My, this is so exciting! It seems we have ourselves a Mos Eisley Standoff. I wonder who is going to die first!?"

@Honesty Crow

Pestage's Folly



Miryia Farlina of House Janus, Jedi Master and architect of atrocity, engineer of conflict and what one Sith termed a "mistress of false flags", had long suspected a truth that was almost too terrible to put to words a truth that had dismayed her almost as much as the realization that her long sleep had denied her the chance to guide the dark age, to push the fall to where the slate would be wiped clean. Punishment, she once thought for her greatest sin, her greatest gamble. But she'd awoken to a Galaxy that was born in the culmination of the first stage of her plan and then, to see a Sith carry it out, only to implement what should have been the second act at the end of the first millennia of the war, for his own personal vanity and not out of a broken souls nihilistic rampage when he realized the truth. That those who valued their individuality, their vast personal might beyond any other treasure save their freedom was merely, the last in a long line of puppets for the will not of the force, but a single sentient who held both they and their mortal enemies in Judgment. No, she thought, he engineered the New Order, to sound as appealing as possible, the great pipe dream of so many, so much of the galaxy only for it to be governed by the most unstable, ignorant, degenerate, imbecilic batch of inferiors in the known universe! It wasn't designed to endure long without him, not the sith, but him...The Sith were dead, their legacy would have lived on solely in his malformed and atrophied soul, not his apprentice, but him and he'd intended to endure ten thousand years!

And if he couldn't achieve that, then the Galaxy could burn around his ashes, a magnificent pyre to sate the vanity of the universe's biggest fool! Orchested by the pathetic clowns, thugs, vermin and upjumped slaves she saw before her. Slowly, the room began to grow cold. Slowly, the walls began strain until finally plasmarble cracked and lights began to flicker. Miryia bowed her head and one of the Royal guardsmen stammered backwards, he might have been force sensitive, not enough to merit even a spot on the Inquisitors but enough that he perceived what was truly before him and he gave a yelp "My Lord! This thi-" he went silent, as a laughter, that might have been beautiful when it was filled with joy but was filled with a madness that froze his blood! Oh, he was no stranger to laughter of monsters, for he'd served The Emperor, his dark lord well but where Sidious had the frenzied laugh of a malevolent being high on his own darkness, this, this was a corruption of light, a burning insanity that terrified him. Her laughter rose, a chorus above the bickering and the posturing. Miryia's shoulders briefly became lopsided, her posture contorted, her hands clenched into fists, bone white hair fell about shoulders that were ordinarily statuesque and yet not looked like the costume of something, not at all humanoid and more akin to a eldrichian serpent. For the briefest of seconds, before she straightened again and the world saw only the gallant, noble image she intended the world to see.

Until she spoke, her voice was powerful, commanding, in it was the authority of a Master of the Jedi Order, a woman bred to rule, a noble, a war hero, a complete and utter lunatic. "How did the fool mean to achieve it?! Via clones? Life theft? Alchemically created golems?" she asked in a contemptuous hiss, Pestage who'd been wheezing out a kill order, went silent in horrified recognition at her question...But he remained silent. Others in the room paused at the seeming absurdity of the question. "You! Stunted Hoodrat! Ghetto born swine! Bastard son of a whore, drug spawned degenerate, disappointment in the eyes of your father" How she knew these things about a man whose entire life was obscured to all save Palpatine witnesses would later speculate on. "Your better has addressed you! Oh? You won't speak! Are you fearful? Or have the decades of spice use and venereal diseases accumulated from Twi'lik leavings of your sodomous paramours addled your brain beyond all memory?" The last part might have been a total calumny for all she knew, all she knew was that it was what people of his level were, diseased and she didn't care if he was the exception. Pitta was about to speak and Miryia turned, the sheer fury in her eyes, the icy contempt, the revealing glare that recognized silent him

"And you, filthy, fraud! Do you think your blustering venom can conceal your true nature from my powers? Or my senses? Fool! I'm Arkanian, engineered to be superior, I can smell the stench of non human DNA all of your body! And you, who are so mongrelized that you can't even name the species who had sex with your foremothers to yield you, who no doubt crawled, bawling from the rancid pit between your mystery meat mothers legs! You dare slander a Bothan whose blood is pure? Whose lineage higher than any in this soom save Grand Admiral Grant and myself? You detestable spawn of immiserated slave! Freedman trash! Your vehence betrays your coward's hypocrisy!" Some other imbecile Grand Admiral appeared as though he were about to say something, perhaps in her defense. It was the one who used narcotics to expand his mind, she sent a simple thought to him -When I want the opinion of someone who might be found in an alley with a stim shooter in his arm next to Pitta's mother I'll ask for yours, stay silent for now-

"Do none of you know?! Hah! You pathetic creatures, of course you wouldn't know! How could you? You who recite the pledge to establish a new and peaceful order upon a galaxy, the loyal, the brave and the true fighting for the justice of the wise, dispensed from on high to the teaming masses of a Galaxy inundated by corruption! Do you truly lack the self awareness to see it? Or are you so afraid of the truth? You reprobate fools champion order?! The Emperor's peace! YOUR EMPIRE IS A LIE! DESIGNED BY A FOOL CHASING IMMORTALITY OF THE FLESH!" Her voice cracked like a thunderous scream and she whipped around and flashed Raveem a look that suggested he should pay close attention to the reactions of many, for some began to see what she was saying and their eyes filled with fury at the betrayal from the very roots of their cause and were reinvigorated by a desire to restore the New Order free of its chains while others despaired and most gawked like fools who thought her mad.

"This Galaxy had a chance to start again! The force! Had a chance to be understood for what it was truly and you braying carrion eating jesters fight amongst yourself Squandering it?! You speak of treason while you maneuver yourselves to gorge on the leavings!" A new order of Force users, true Knights dedicated to order and justice, warrior priests and scholars with blades, fighting side by sight with the elite of the Storm Troopers. For that alone, they were all damned. "And now, you brawl like thugs? Traitors I name you!" her voice grew less mad but the held in it a prelates intensity, a ferver of religion, she wasn't merely insulting them but judging with the certitude of one given a mandate from what many considered the will of the force (even though she scoffed at such notions). "lower your weapons..no? You won't?"

She flicked her left hand forward with an alarming suddenness and golden lightning roared from her palm and impacted against one of the guards flanking Pestage with enough force to blow his torso wide open, blood sprayed about the room, armor splintered and one of his ribs rebounded off the head of Grand Moff Hissa who roared with delight and pulled a blaster.

The room went dark as walls cracked and lights failed leaving only the glow of blaster fire, vibroblades

And a pair of serpents eyes.

Everything had fallen into place. This plan which had grown from the darkest and most depraved corner of Raveem's mind was unfolding before his eyes. He looked on as Miryia spoke. While others saw madness, he saw raw and unrivaled power being manifested in the form of complex insults. It was beautiful to behold and he couldn't help but feel euphoric as he felt the Force emanate from her. While he didn't know if he was Force sensitive himself, nor did he care, he always felt this indescribable sensation whenever he was near a Force user. It felt good in a sense. The sensations made him feel euphoric. He wanted more of it. But in this instance, the effects were amplified as the plan he had so carefully put together continued to unfold before his very eyes. Abruptly, one of the royal guardsmen who were ordered to arrest them was killed. That briefly returned him to reality. Then, another guard was killed. After that, all hell broke loose.

The lights went off and the room was suddenly illuminated by green and red blaster bolts. Lasers flew everywhere and people screamed left and right as old friends turned on one another and political enemies attempted to slay each other. Ishin Il-Raz, the fanatical COMPNOR leader was the first to die. His head was blown off by a single punch from Karius' cybernetic arm. Brain matter, bones and pieces of skull flew across the room as the Grand Admiral's corpse fell to the ground motionless. Tigellinus was wounded by a blaster bolt from an unknown Imperial Officer all the way on the other side of the room, most likely by accident. However, the culprit was soon stabbed to death by Hissa who confused him with someone else. Palleon and Sloane flipped a table near their corner and took refuge there as the small battle unfolded. Two governors tried to take on General Rom Mohc, but their attempt was soon foiled by Isard who shot them dead as Mohc fought them off. Phasma attempted to defend her master as much as she could. The bodyguard managed to kill two lower Imperial Officers who tried to kill Raveem. The Bothan seemed to be in his own world as he giggled to himself hearing and sensing the carnage around him. Grand Moff Dunhausen tried to kill his counterpart Hissa, but he was killed by Thistleborn before even getting to him. In turn, Dunhausen was murdered by a rival governor who slammed a bottle of whiskey over his head before shooting him on the ground. Bertroff Hissa managed to take refuge near one of the tables as other governors and officers searched for him. But, those too soon ended up dead or wounded.

Soon, the room grew silent again save for the occasional groan from the countless bodies that now littered the reception area of the Senate Hall. Those who remained standing soon saw the carnage as the lights turned on. Countless bodies laid on the floor, either bloodied, bludgeoned or shit to death. Nearly two thirds of the Imperial Ruling Council had been killed. Yssane Isard, Rom Mohc, and Martio Batch on one side were unscathed by the shooting. On another corner of the room, Karius was stabilizing his friend Tigellinus who had been shot in the side by a stray blaster bolt. The half-breed, Grand Moff Hissa was sitting alongside a group of dead Governors, all either stabbed or bludgeoned to death. Palleon and Sloane emerged from their cover, surveying the carnage before slowly making their way to the center. Grand Admiral Takel had taken cover behind the bar and slowly peeked his head to see if the shooting had ended. The only two left from Pestage's camp was Pitta who had been injured during the fight and crawled over to a corner of the room to wait it our and Pestage himself. The Grand Vizier had been reduced to a cowering mess on the ground. Without his guards present or his previous master to protect him, he was but a defenseless child.

"Please." He begged, looking up at Miryia. "Have mercy. I didn't mean for you to die. The intelligence was wrong. I swear I didn't have anything to do with it." A blatant lie. Perhaps in his last moments he believed he could still cheat his way out. However, that would not be the case.

Raveem spun around, walking circles around Miryia and Pestage as he surveyed the room. Out of everyone there, he was the only one grinning. The carnage around him still had his heart racing. "What a day, huh?" He said, glancing at Miryia and then Phasma. "This turned out better than I thought." Miryia spotted Pitta on the other side of the room, slowly raising his pistol at Raveem who seemed unaware of the fact. One last blaster bolt rung out and that was followed by the Bothan screeching as he fell to the ground. The Grand Admiral grinned as he saw the Bothan hit the floor clutching his belly. Phasma shouted and charged him, but she soon stopped and turned to glance at Raveem. He then started laughing, and slowly turned his head toward Pitta who's face slowly turned into a look of sheer horror.

"I-impossible…" He said softly, as his eyes widened seeing the Bothan slowly stand up cackling as he did.

"My turn." Raveem's voice adopted a low and deeper tone as his smile turned into a sadistic grin. He pulled on his sleeve, revealing a small wrist mounted device with a launcher. Pressing a button, he shot a dart at Pitta's neck. Soon, the Grand Admiral's eyes turned red and he began to vomit blood.

"That, Grand Admiral Pitta is a neurotoxin of my own making. In mere minutes, it will shut down your organs one by one while keeping you conscious as you experience excruciating pain…" Raveem waved in Pitta's direction, as the Grand Admiral choked on his own blood as it poured from every orifice in his head. "Enjoy." The Bothan cleared his throat and glanced at the bar. "Ah, I need a drink."

Pestage's Folly


As the world went dark, Miryia stood in the middle of the room, in the chaos. Blaster bolts and debris danced around her and yet seemed to warp, as the woman channeling the force in ways she hadn't in months, allow every cell of her being to become infused with the raw essence. the power that she proceeded to refine and craft, allowing her skill and experience to form a low level EM field about her form that kept her from being hit by blaster bolt, for in her arrogance she refused to dodge. A broken bottle and a bloody skull, weaponry dancing about her, fire and smoke and pure chaos. Chaos, with a purpose, chaos controlled, chaos ordered, the overt contraction whose overlap allowed for the proliferation of civilization, of life. -I would control the chaos with order, Sidious wished to unleash that chaos without any foresight- and this, macabre stalemate and revilization had been brought about in part by her own actions, her own plans, which had...Her mind trailed off, fury, regret and disgust filling her mind as she beheld the end results of her long sleep, her inattentiveness. "I was so close" she whispered, so close and yet so far. Unless?

Something pressed against her back and she realized Grand Admiral Octavian grant realized she was one of the safest spots to be near and so nearly leaned against her, lazily picking off stragglers, wounded, or people foolish to try and shoot them both. "your offer was stimulating" whatever was passed between them remained hidden and for a time the Jedi gazed at the Bothan and his dutiful bodyguard, who had managed to impress Miryia with her tireless defense of the lunatic was merely enjoying the show and marveling at his work? Miryia allowed a slight smile to gut at the corner of her lips -You used me, but you knew well enough to give me an opening- a credit to his race, to be sure..She would have to pay him back, he was certainly proving to be interesting. Utter chaos as a clusterkriff burned itself out and the dust began to settle as power was rerouting and lighting began to slowly crawl back into utility, displaying a grizzly bed of carnage and gore and the dead and dying. To her surprise, not only had Grand Moff Hissa managed to survive but it had seemed as though he did a fairly good job of competing with Karius in body count and Miryia gave both men a nod, with her eyes lingering on Karius for a fraction of a second longer. Her people survived it seemed as had the other Viper in the room who now found herself standing among the ruins of nearly all her professional rivals and with several declared allies including one of her own who had also chosen to support Isard. Miryia cast her a courteous nod and then a challenging look before she turned and walked passed Phasma and the Bothan, her hand clasping Phasma on the shoulder "You do your master a credit" she walked passed the woman towards the wreckage, surveying more of the dead including a Moff who suffered a shattered arm for grabbing her rear at a function a month ago. Gilad Pellaeon rose, managing to keep uniform immaculate and unwrinkled even as he jumped for cover.

The woman beside him had fire in her eyes but she was the dutiful second, a sense of awareness possessed her sight and she stood protectively beside Gilad as if to defend her Admiral should the Jedi turn her wrath towards him. "You may stand down, your Admiral is a patriot and I would sooner cut off my own arm than hurt him" she turned regarding Phasma as if to say the same applied to Raveem, for the time being any way, only the passage of more months and years would reveal to her what she should ultimately do with both men. A scream rang out, everyone turned to see the Bothan fall, a look of theatrical horror passed over Miryia's face. Which quickly turned to a soft chuckle as he "rose from the dead" to put a venomous dart in the throat of the man who'd just tried to kill him. The Jedi watched Grand Admiral Pitta die, her eyes flickering as she extended her awareness into his being, sensing how the poison killed him . "Quite impressive, director general"

Now, it came time to get to the heart of the matter as the whimpering pleas of the a thing who fancied itself a man. A flicker of Miryia's fingers forced the disreputable dimwit up, she forced to sit upon the chair once again, that silly thing Pestage mistakenly believed gave him power. "Mercy?" her eyes flickered with malice and indignation, as if she'd waste time torturing this simple fool who was beneath the insects. "Mercy? Well, I am a Jedi Knight, a master of the council no less and I suspect the last one alive in the whole of the Galaxy" she smiled, almost serenely and it was the most disturbing thing Sate Pestage had said. "Yes, I think I shall grant you mercy" Miryia's eyes flickered and she raised a hand and Sate Pestage let out a gurgle as the woman compressed his bones into the chair which broke and bent under the power. As his brain ceased to function the last thing he'd have felt was the collapse of his pelvis and the rupture of all of his lower intestines as she warped the imbeciles throne around his body until it seemingly devoured him.

An apt metaphor.

But she couldn't stop to savor it, she'd torn apart their precious New Order and now it was time to rebuild it. She turned her upperbody, her cloak wrapping about her figure, drops of blood smeared part of her right cheek and some droplets fell into her hair, though nothing in the entire battle had stained her, as if she allowed it to happen, as if she either wished to feel her enemies blood on her or she was simply emphasizing a point.

Whatever that point was.

"We must replace them, we are surrounded by enemies on all sides even within. But they must not be sycophants. While the New Order was tainted at its birth, this day can become a crucible. We can reorganize, reorder ourselves, refound a dynasty to endure ten thousand years and ten thousand more." idly her hand moved to her lightsaber, it twitched lightly, for she realized she hadn't wielded it in so long. But also, as a soft threat..Unite, rally to the cause and place the cause above yourself.

Or stand attainted. "I don't want that accursed chair" she added with a sense of certitude. "Grand Vizier is not a position I want"

She paused, allowing the room to grow quiet, allowing the bewildered survivors a chance to process what was coming next "Nor do I desire to be empress, this Galaxy needs a higher calling, a unifying faith in men and women of flesh and bone and soul as well as in an institution. Gentlemen, ladies...you will provide the institution. I shall provide the faith"

Here, she let out a breath...finally, it could begin.

Here, Miryia raised a hand, it sparked with golden lightning but not menacingly, more it seemed to be a beacon, for it drew at last the curious spectators from outside who for some strange reason hadn't noticed the battle until now.

"Imperial Grand Moff Bertrof Hissa" her voice boomed, holding with it the majesty of a cobra and the intensity of a zealot. "Rise from your seat of carnage Grand Vizier" he'd proven himself adept at navigating the treachery, even if he was an over the top lunatic. He was also, someone who understood when he was being given an ultimatum and one that involved being handed power, even if it might have been illusory. She'd just declared him the head of state, the master of the bureaucracy and any objections any of the surviving Royal guard might have had to her total usurpation of the role of the Sith cult in the order of the Empire died in their throats when they beheld the "chair".

After that, Miryia eyed Raveem "I suppose the rest is up to you, it is not my place to order your entire Government" walking towards the bar she allowed herself a moment of self indulgence. The force swirled around her and a bottle of fine Corellian brandy lifted from one of the shelves. The cork removed itself and two glasses were poured. That was when the arrogant woman finally used her hands, hand the Bothan a drink before taking hers. "You are clever Bothan, clever enough to be worth my gratitude, even if you did use me as a catalyst" rising the woman moved towards the door.

Before stopping and turning back to Octavian Grant who seemed to gesture towards Gilad Pellaeon. Miryia laughed "Reluctant Admiral, I believe they mean to foist the trappings of power upon your shoulder. Might I suggesting adopting a cape as part of your uniform"

The student, the cobra and the mournful orphan



The return to her palace had been spent in the same silence, albeit the tener seemed changed. The regular soldiers while fearful of her, seemed to behold her with wide, curious eyes. The blood stain on her cheek confirming what was being shouted and screeched, which filled with a dread of a different sort. The fear of exposure, of retaliation, of being killed for their part in this palace coup by the surviving forces loyal to the dead. One of them, a human male in his forties reached up to scratch his neck under his tight collar, his uniformed which had been pressed and neatly arrayed earlier seemed as frazzled as his heart rate suggested, but the other, the younger one managed a question brought on by a mix of fear and audacity. "Did you really tell Grand Admiral Pitta that you could smell his inferiority?" he asked with a near giddy laugh and the other soldier elbowed him "You're out of line!" he turned to apologize only for the woman to raise a hand "He is, but he is young and does not see the concerns you do" she turned and nodded her head ever so slightly causing the younger soldier to smile "man, it's almost worth being tortured to death by assassin droids over"

Perhaps, he wasn't as young as she thought, at least not mentally. "What's your division soldier?" her tone was an odd mix of her usual aloof formality with hints of genuine interest and the older man surprised muttered the One Hundred and Fourth. To their surprise she leaned back and let out a soft chuckle "You are a continuation of the clone division then?" "Who was the successor to the original Nightfighters Master Janus" the youth said eagerly not realizing he might have tread on dangerous water any other day. Miryia let out a nostalgic breath her head craning to gaze at the cityscape, eclipsed now in the brightly lit dark of a Coruscanti night. "I commanded the One Hundred and Fourth in the Thousand Years war, what you call the New Sith Wars". Their eyes flickered as if to say we know and she nodded, it was decided then. "Tonight you still remain posted at my palace, tomorrow in the morning I will request the One Hundred and Fourth be transferred under the Command of General Cardinal" she'd issued the Captain his new rank on the way out of the Senate meeting, the hundred and first would be reconstituted and it would be the legion that would fight beside her Knights, their vanguard.

"y-you would have us serve you again?!"

She nodded and passed the rest of the right in contemplative silence. Only speaking when she arrived to assure the Storm troopers from the five hundred and First who were scrambling to get their kits and armor on, that their service was needed here where they would begin the process of rebuilding their unit. "Why didn't you want us what you were planning?" One asked, nearly being struck by another for his arrogance. And it was arrogant and presumptive, any other soldier, even an elite of the Storm Trooper corps would have been beaten for his arrogant demand, but the five hundred and first would be hers one day, the personal guard legions of the one she crowned Emperor. While she leveled a harsh stare at the soldier it followed a hand resting on his forearm "Because I would not have the Empire's Fist be seen as mercenary thugs who sold themselves to the winning side. Your honor never left you, even if others believe it was only today restored. But if you had participated in that fracas even to protect me, you surely would have" her hand tightened over the man's wrist and she turned to walk towards the interior leaving her men grim and yet filled with a fire of inspiration, if she was willing to chequer her own honor for them, then perhaps they truly were the elite they'd been in their "youth".

After she'd bathed and again changed her garb, retaining the purple robes but shedding the combat armor and appearing more as though she was prepared for something leisurely if formal. Miryia made her way across the sprawling fountains of the water gardens that made up one of the interior patios. The moons were high in the sky, their own city lights of the colonies that serviced the truly monolithic in scope power plants and relay systems that fed the planetary shield system and its sensors and defense satellites. She sat in rest for several hours, delving into a relaxed meditation to center her emotions and review the events of the day, to replay the faces and the people who had survived. The face of that heterochromatic Isard kept playing over and over in her mind, as if the pivot of destiny, the force amplifying her instincts and feeding off the emotions and memories of others seemed to be warning her or? Her thoughts were interrupted by a familiar presence, one she'd humbled earlier and yet, it was so much more intense, emotional, distraught and potent? Purple eyes opened, casting an eerie shine in the semi dark. Before her, in supplication was the Inquisitor with the robotic eye, kneeling and showing deference if not submission?

She'd spared herself from being thrown through a wall by revealing more of herself. "Have you not learned your lesson" she asked, her voice holding contempt. "Forgive me, my lady I was merely trying to offer escort...But..you were right" she relented, tears stained her cheeks and hair that was kept in a bun was messy and frayed and Miryia noted that her clothing was disheveled as if she'd been tearing things apart, tearing herself apart. What caught the Jedi's eyes though, was that while she looked a mess now, when pristine earlier she held less dignity and less introspection. But the remaining eye caught her attention more than anything, it was an vibrant green and filled with an anguish that, much to her own displeasure at admitting she knew well. -you're a mother- she thought, only fathers and mothers could have such sad, bent eyes yet retain such unflinching resolve. "Of course I was, look at you" Miryia hissed realizing at once how blind the Inquisitors had been, how ignorant Lord Vader had been! What Miryia had guessed at being a thirty year old was closer to thirty five, yet she looked closer to twenty five. The force flowed inside of her, to such a degree her cells regenerated more efficiently, enough that her aging was slowed slightly. It was rare for even Jedi's that were wholly human to live beyond two hundred and thirty years and most fell in combat or died of old age closer to one hundred and ten. That she was still restoring herself despite, yes, yes! She could sense it, the scarring in her liver, the damage to her arteries all regenerating, repairing and it was happening now? Not over a period of years, as though whatever personal revelation she'd reached had activated her inner refinery. -They relegated this child to a subordinate? She'd have made a great Jedi, Sith would fawn over this talent before those Baninite fools- she thought, but to keep the girl focused she avoided any praise yet.

"You, who have allowed your potential to be subsumed by your guilt and perverted your form by serving inferior masters? How can I not think you are lower than the vermin?!"

That surprised the woman who looked up, dared to look up and something sparked in her eyes, something, far away. "I...forgive me, my first master once said the same of my potential I"

First master? Now this intrigued her "elaborate child"

"Well...I..." the woman swallowed. "I was a Jedi, a Padawan in the last days of the order, my master a Knight died to save me, I was eleven..I think..I ran and..I tried to honor her, I tried to stay alive" Her voice was tight, it was holding back tears but not at her own circumstances at? Miryia remained seated, straightening as if she were a sovereign about to issue a proclamation. "but you lost yourself and indulged yourself"

"And sold myself into slavery to avoid starvation..things were done..things were"

"and you wish me to absolve you of those sins?" she asked feigning disgust. "No, I..." "my time is precious and my patience is not eternal" "I...Mistress" eyes narrowed dangerously at that "Master" "I am not your master!" she hissed back "Please...I HAVE CHILDREN!"'

Ah, Miryia thought as the woman broke into tears sobbing on bended knee. "I'm so tired, of hate, of rage, of pointless service. I want..I left them..I had too, one is at the Jedi temple an initiate, he's my oldest, twenty" So, they ravaged her young then? And her boy was in the service of that..abomination? "the others, are younger, one is in the Imperial academy..logistics training..the other is on Chadrilla..I...have never" she tried to master herself but her shoulders shook. "I have never seen them since I gave them up, I can't bring myself to look at them..I am tired of feeling like that! Feeling adrift, I want to be a Knight!" she shouted the last part out, her eyes rising to meet Miryia's and there was defiance there, mixed with respect and humility and eagerness and not desperation? Good..good..she thought.

This poor creature might not be as inferior as she believed it was.

"I could kill you for such presumption"

"you won't though" she murmured, between gasps. Undaunted, no hesitation, no despair but faith? The woman's eyes narrowed but without any menace and she rose, slowly and walked toward her. "I was a Jedi Master, yes, but I am Jedi no longer, I am a Knight true but I do not serve the will of the force, for the force has none. I serve ideals, codes, valor, justice, order, the endless war against corruption, stagnation, savagery and the dimming of the lights of civilization and it may be that my war is a doomed one"

"A cause is only doomed if its empty or forsaken Knight Janus, that is what I know" Now that was presomption! And self indulgence, but it was wisdom hard earned and to the surprise of the Inquisitor she felt a hand touch her cheek and then she felt an odd twinge, an odd surge, warmth filled her body and she felt the mechanical prosthetic fall from her temple, the implant push out of her eye socket, something that should have hurt and yet? As metal, circuity and servos were purged she could feel pressure in her sinus cavity and then tears began to fall from a new eye! an eye that beheld the woman who'd nearly killed her months ago and dismissed her like a rat earlier taking an exhausted breath as if the effort had taxed her. It was the only time she showed any signs of fatigue and around them every plant was withered and ruined as if she'd ripped the life force out of them to build her a new eye. "Sith..alchemy?" she asked tearfully and the woman shook her head "Jee'dai, the ancient Forcewrights of old, the precursors to the Jedi and Bendu mysticism, it is not something I can do easily and you will not be my padawan, that is not our word. You shall be my student, my apprentice, my protege, the first of many and in time you will help me raise a legion of Knights dedicated to our cause"

"M..master?"

Slowly the cobra nodded "yes, what is your name child?" "Rheanessya Aladar" she whispered and the sobs came again, but they were akin to a breaking of a dam and power held back by guilt and time, by the foolishness of the Darkside adepts was breaking forward and Miryia did something she hadn't done in a long age.

She pulled the woman into an embrace that was as maternal as it was fierce holding her for several moments before bringing her up to their full height (of which Rhenessya stood almost a head taller). "Rheanessya Aladar, you came to me on your knees lower than a slave, you rise now a Knight and my first student in one thousand, eight hundred years"

"I do not know if the future holds reconciliation for your children and you, but I promise you, the one son who walks the Jedi's path will come home and you will face him with your warriors pride intact. This I swear to you"

As I swear it to the galaxy

"As you will it Master!"

A slow, half crazed yet oddly warm smile crept across her face, a genuine, true smile.

At last, she thought.

the great crusade begins.

Yavin IV
Rogue Squadron Hangar



The return to Yavin IV didn’t involve the same enthusiasm as when Rogue Squadron left. Each of them was silent, too busy stewing over the mission with a mixture of emotions to bother with small talk—even Alara, who was notably the most anxious of them all. When they broke lightspeed after the rest of the fleet entered the Yavin system, Nareia briefly contacted Wedge aboard the cruiser and told him of their intention to return to the hangar. No argument was made against it; and there was no witty remark from Kyrin, no congratulatory words from Rayce, and no relieved chatter from Alara. Other than the latter sharing a chilling message between Zsinj and Wedge, none of them had the will or the urge to speak just yet.

The Rogues broke atmosphere and returned to base, and it was only when Alara’s X-wing settled down last did Nareia bother to open her fighter’s canopy, extend her retractable ladder, and descend its rung. The hurried footsteps of a maintenance crew made her blood run hotter, but whether it was anger or shame she didn’t know. Maybe it was both.

“Don’t bother.” She told the crew that ran to attend to her ship, having been met with confused expressions. “A standard system check, just to be safe, but there’s no damage to speak of. We didn’t even fire off a shot.”

Shaking her head and allowing the crew to examine her X-wing, she came around the nose of her ship to see both Kyrin and Rayce moving towards her; Alara was only now powering down her ship, her astromech ZeeZee being removed from his socket as requested.

“Fun time,” Kyrin started bitterly, having felt no calmer since Wedge silenced them. His jaw grew tenser. “Maybe Madine’ll get us to bring the Imperials some cookies and blue milk, just so they’re comfortable while they walk all over us.”

“How much of this operation was Madine really?” Rayce asked next. The silence on the return trip gave all of them time to think; he only needed to know they were placing blame on the right people. “Mon Mothma’s not exactly popular, and he explicitly said that this mission had her backing. General Madine isn’t one to back down from a fight we can win.”

By this time Alara had hustled up to the group with R6-Z6 rolling in behind her. She ran her hands through her hair and shook her head. “The Imperials didn’t do anything either,” she said, following up on Rayce’s comment. “That man—Zsinj—he opened up a link to all of us, but that Admiral Karius never said a word.”

“He didn’t do a thing,” Kyrin agreed. “I thought Madine said he was ruthless. What’s ruthless about a Star Destroyer that wouldn’t turn and face us?”

“Ruthless doesn’t always mean stupid,” Nareia replied. She walked a couple steps backwards before she turned, making for the hangar’s entryway. The others followed beside her. “Madine put a lot of emphasis on that man’s lethality, but our people were extracted without issue. Our ground team did what they were assigned.”

“And that’s another thing. They had no clue what was down there, either.” Rayce inhaled sharply. “They were just as upset as us, and their order is all about controlling negative emotions.”

“They were kept in the dark, too,” Nareia mumbled, stepping out into Yavin’s sunshine. “It hurts to know you don’t have the trust of your own leaders. I doubt the Jedi are any different from us in that regard.”

She came to a stop and turned around to meet their individual faces; Kyrin’s tension and Alara’s sadness struck a chord inside her. Shaking her head in disbelief, she nearly laughed at how quickly things were beginning to change within the New Republic.

“It’s… not good.” Nareia nodded slowly as she said those words. “Mon Mothma? She’s wrong. Madine, too, for looking us in the eye and affirming that none of us are worthy of information. We didn’t even know what we stood to lose down there, and what’s worse is that they took two hours to assemble a team at all.”

“What’s a holocron anyway?” Rayce asked, thinking back on Wedge’s conversation with Zsinj on the bridge. R6-Z6 captured the message between the two; its knack for intercepting messages within allied ships was one of Rogue Squadron’s best kept secrets. Private channels weren’t so private from it. “Why couldn’t we know about it?”

“It’s a device that stores information and is used primarily by Force users,” Alara said quickly. “I don’t know why they couldn’t just tell us that much, at least. Whatever is in that holocron we lost would only be accessible by our Jedi.”

“Why didn’t Luke tell them then?” Kyrin asked.

“I don’t know,” Alara admitted. “The information kept inside could be dangerous. We won’t know unless we reclaim it, or Zsinj finds a way to access it. But to do that, he’d need Luke or one of his students.”

Nareia’s eyes widened. “And that kid, Aren—he’s missing.”

“Gone without a trace. I don’t think Kale lost sight of Aren. I think Aren was either taken, or he was never with us to begin with.”

“That’s a stretch. We don’t know what happened to that kid.” Rayce shook his head. “But, then again, neither did his master.”

“Exactly. So… so maybe Luke didn’t tell any of them because if they knew what was in the holocron, they might be tempted to take the knowledge for themselves.” Alara glanced back at ZeeZee, who chirped supportively at her hypothesis, then looked back to her friends. “Or maybe he always suspected that he might be betrayed. Not everyone entered the Rebel Alliance with clean hands and a just cause. Not all of his Jedi might be good-natured people.”

Kyrin snorted. “What, he’s taking in bad seeds on purpose?”

“You were a smuggler who operated outside of any law. You probably did your share of questionable things before joining the Alliance.”

“I—”

“—did what you had to, to survive,” Alara nodded. “I’m not arguing that you didn’t. I’m only saying… maybe Luke… he saw the good in his students and might’ve ignored their past wrongdoings. It was faith in the good of people that led him to get the numbers he has.”

For a moment, all members of Rogue Group looked among each other in silence. Alara’s theory, while reasonable, was a stretch too thin for any of them to believe in reporting. The possibility was there, but they lacked both the proof and the knowledge about Aren to fully suspect him. The only people who might know about him were in the Jedi Temple that loomed in the distance.

“In any case, we need to focus on what we know, not just what we believe.” Nareia crossed her arms and glanced over her shoulder, directing her gaze towards the Senate building. “What we know is that Mon Mothma is restraining us from striking against all known Imperial targets, especially vulnerable ones that we know we can defeat with minor casualties at best. Madine agrees with her—” she turned back to face her friends “—enough to hold us back, and enough to let a man he seemed concerned with live to fight another day.”

“Madine’s no coward and neither is Wedge,” Rayce reminded them all. “This tension with Mon Mothma and General Iblis might be the reason Madine didn’t want to fight it. We all see our foundation crumbling. So would he.”

“That doesn’t explain why he talked to us like we were gutter trash,” Kyrin hissed. “We bring along Gold Squadron and that Star Destroyer would be through. We all know there can’t be peace—not yet, and especially not after today.” He shot a look at Nareia who was just about to comment. “They hit our people and our facility, and we don’t get retribution. If Tyber Zann got wind of that he’d be knocking on our doors, too. Same goes for Xizor.”

“I’ll take the pirates and the underworld over another Super Star Destroyer. We were lucky on Endor—it took a sacrifice to bring one down, not superior numbers or firepower.” Nareia could still hear Arvel Crynyd’s last moments before he collided with the bridge, ending the threat of Vader’s personal flagship once and for all. “We’re not solving anything like this. We’re stuck speculating and stuck feeling unwanted. We should unwind.”

“You know where to find me,” Kyrin said, tapping Rayce on the shoulder and nodding towards the cantina. “You up for some drinks?”

Rayce nodded. “Right behind you,” he mumbled, exchanging one last look between Nareia and Alara before joining him.

Watching as the two men trotted off to drink their frustrations away and undoubtedly tell the men inside what transpired, Nareia sighed between her teeth before glancing back to Alara. “You?”

“I’ve got a book to finish reading.”

“And I’ve got some fellow pilots to reach out to about all this,” Nareia said, a Sullustan, a Twi’lek, and an aged veteran coming to mind. “I’ll see you later.”

“Bye!” Alara smiled despite everything and bid Nareia farewell, who turned away and headed for another hangar nearby.

Left alone with only her droid, Alara patted ZeeZee on his dome and started making her way back to her bunk. Before she took several steps, she stopped and turned once again towards the Jedi Temple in the distance. All this speculation made her curious; she debated on going out there and learning more about their order. Maybe her idea about the Jedi was all wrong—maybe the others were, too. But the military matters were usually best left to Nareia.

For her, maybe a little reaching out into the Jedi Temple was her next best step. Learning more about wroshyr trees and Wookiee culture could wait, at least for a few hours more.

R6-Z6 tweeted beside her, rocking from leg to leg impatiently. “Come on,” she said, turning and making her way towards a pilot nearby a speeder, intent on asking one favor out of two.



Yavin IV
The Jedi Temple

Reaching out via a long-range link between her comlink and Wedge’s, Alara requested that he grant her permission to enter the Jedi Temple. Her interest in the Jedi’s library was boundless, and given she was almost always pulled out of some sort of datapad whenever he ran into her, the veteran pilot had no reason to doubt this. It was the truth, well, half of one. If she were to find a Jedi or two inside, she would pick their brain a little bit. She and the rest of Rogue Group—bar Wedge—only knew Luke from stories. He was once just like them; a pilot who wanted to do good, and to fight against the Empire’s tyranny. His destiny called him elsewhere, leaving Wedge to try and continue what they both started years ago.

She managed to ask a speeder pilot to drop both herself and Zee at the temple, and he agreed to wait a while for her to emerge. It turned out he had a friend who was on guard duty that same day, and an excuse to leave the base for a while and chat with a friend was hardly necessary. Plus, he was kind of into her. That helps, too.

“Excuse me—” Alara started but paused, staring at an opened palm instead.

“Alara, right?” the guard asked. “We got the go ahead already. You’re clear to enter.”

“Thank you!” she exclaimed, nearly bouncing on her toes before heading inside with R6-Z6 following close behind her, only to quickly realize that she needed a map of some kind to find her way.

There were no strategically placed signs to tell her where to go, and there were no Jedi tour guides available—not that this was a tour at all—to help her find her way. Deciding it best not to take away one of the guards from their post to help her find the library, she chose to explore it and directed R6-Z6 to try and create a map via scans and the path she herself was taking.

It took her several minutes before she managed to find any sign of life within. The sound of something metallic being battered lured her away from her current path, and the closer she came to the sound, the more anxious she grew.

Finally, she peered inside the doorway to spot a tall—and familiar—person punching away at a stationary droid. Zee creeped up beside her and angled himself just enough to look past Alara with a single dark eye spotting the brutality of a droid being assaulted by an organic.

Outraged, Zee looked to Alara, then back to Lahana. He ejected a stun rod from one of its many panels, daring to give that beast of an organic a real opponent.

“Shh, no!” Alara whispered without looking at Zee, as if sensing his frustration. “Just follow my lead—and be nice.”

Zee rotated his dome left and right before chirping quietly. No promises.

Alara gave her droid another pat on his dome before she entered inside, walking as quietly as she could. “Excuse me,” she tried saying only to discover her throat was dry. She swallowed before trying to continue. “Excuse me!” A little louder this time, she hoped Lahana wouldn’t yell at her for her interruption. “Lahana?”

Zee came up beside her, stun rod still drawn. If Lahana continued to harm a fellow droid, insults would be exchanged, and perhaps a stun rod jabbed in her leg.

Lahana found her mind clearing of any thoughts. Her worries faded as her fists flew into the padded hands of the droid. Sparing with a machine was nothing like training with another living being. There was no intent behind it's movements, no emotion. Fighting people on the other hand was like a conversation, through the exchange of blows a thread of empathy was created. She once believed this to be the case for everyone, but it was only after sparing with her master that she was told otherwise. A combination of her heritage and the force within her was what Kale had hypothesized was the reason.

Her mind wandered once it had settled too long in peace, as it always did. The tactile feeling of her fists smashing into cushioned metal dug up a memory she had no desire to experience again.

Slam. Slam. Slam. Her hands were suddenly flat against a surface, someone's chest. Her hands were wet, and not with the acidic water that fell from the planet's skies. Slick, sticky, crimson red. The body she was preforming CPR on had already stopped breathing, her still open eyes glazed over and lifeless. And yet Lahana was still pushing on her chest as if it would bring her back. She only stopped when she was dragged away by those that had forced the two of them onto the battlefield in the first place. That was the last time she made friends with a fellow soldier.

Someone calling out her name broke her out of her trance. She stopped swinging her fists, only realizing now that she had broken one of the droid's six arms. She looked at the dangling metal, then to the source of the voice. Lahana narrowed her eyes. "Alara." She said the woman's name as if affirming it to herself, telling herself that she hadn't simply heard it in her head. Alara, the woman that seemed to really like learning about other cultures. Odd hobby for a soldier she'd thought, but then again what did she know about normal?

"Um, hello?" Her voice was just barely audible, not the sort of voice one would expect to come from her considering she'd just finished assaulting a helpless training droid. "I... Wasn't expecting to see you again... not so soon anyhow." She removed a band holding her hair into a ponytail, only now realizing her hands were shaking. Suddenly she felt cold as well. Her attire wasn't very Jedi-like at the moment, instead looking more like a gym fanatic.

Crested killers, history books and blades



"Do you know what the meaning of the word Jedi?"

"It means one serves"

The look in the Woman's eyes caused Rheanessya to cast her gaze to the floor, sometimes she felt like she was a child again back at the temple, other times the look in her master's eyes scared her more than the Grand Inquisitors had, but it was the disappointment that always cut deepest. "You are correct, but it comes from the Palawan word "Je'daii which means mystic" though Je'daii is itself a corruption of the Dai bendu word "Jee'dai" which means?"

"forceful sage?" she was trying, frantically to recall lessons that she'd barely stayed conscience through as a child, below the haze of depression , and the pervasive haze of the darkside. three fingers touched her chin elevating her face so that she was looking down into a pair of purple eyes that held within them frustration, but for the first time in her life, no contempt stare back at her. "Force Wright"

"The precursors to the Jedi likened themselves to smiths"

This was news to her, but it also made an odd degree of sense. Wielding the force had always felt less like invocation to her and more like manipulation in a technical sense. "Sometimes, I feel stupid..Master, my knowledge base"

"You were lied too, though I doubt your first master did so malevolently, long before any of us or our foremothers and fathers, a lie was told enough that it became history" Do not despair of that. The Jedi deceived via ignorance" It had reassured her. "You are dense Apprentice Aladar, you would not have come to such a sorry state were you not, but dense is not dumb and ignorance is only a sin when the ignorant chose to remain so"


-She's right- Rheanessya Aladar thought blocking a side thrust from the purple eyed woman who stood near a head shorter than her. A dark indigo blade collided with her crimson Lightsaber and the blow was furious, enough that it would have staggered many of her former peers, but Nessya as she was called in private by her master(where she chose to show an almost familial affection). Had always been much taller, much stronger than most women and a good deal of men within the order of the inquisitors and the force had only served to reinforce that. The blows were going to leave her sore, but they lacked the force the former Master Jedi could have brought to bear. -She's rusty- deadly, Nessya thought, a master of the styles she knows, but rusty. In the days following their initial exchange the former Inquisitor had eagerly thrown herself into her education, but the days were often spent attending reorganization meetings and greeting the newly made Grand Moffs and Grand Admirals and conferring on Hissa his new rank of Grand Vizier, Gilad Pellaeon Supreme Commander and to the surprise of and concern of her master and herself, merely reaffirming existing ranks for Ysanne Isard. Director general Raveem had been the easiest to please, he was content with his rank, but was given a bit more budgetary oversight and was compensated with a hefty bribe (Being given overlordship over a populated moon, that paid him taxes rather than the Empire) for his "modest contributions" which in reality were hardly "modest", without his movements none of that could have been possible. An indigo blade raked her cheek and Rheanessya Aladar barked out a cry of pain and stumbled backwards, rusty due to being of practice but even in matters of Lightsaber combat her new master was lightyears ahead of her.

She thanked her stars that the Woman's lightsaber came with a control dial that allowed her to turn the power down to sparring levels otherwise the bruise on her cheek would have been a missing face. Her lightsaber on the other hand, Miryia insisted that Nessya use it without any kind of modifier of filtration device, but to come at her with a lethal blade. She'd hesitated at first, hesitation which always made her the disgrace among the inquisitors and part of her feared similar derision but the woman merely flashed her an indignant look and asked her in a haughty voice if she believed her master was too weak to fend for herself. Once or twice, she'd flinched at that tone, memories of Miryia slaughtering her peers and pinning her to the floor bowed filled her head. But Miryia seemed true to her word! In the seventy two hours they'd been together she'd observed that the woman certainly got angry with her staff and her servants and the 501st, she'd lost her temper once with Nessya as well, but no violence ever came of it or venomous recrimination. -That trooper was as shocked as I was when she didn't force choke him, she merely called him a Bantha brained giblet eater and ordered him to do calisthenics to make up for his failure- a military woman's punishment not a Sith's. Morale was up, they felt like soldiers again and Rheanessya Aladar realized she'd begun to feel like a Knight again. Their blades crossed again, this time Miryia switched her styles from Juyo to Ataru and the Apprentice's eyes widened, rusty she might have still been but this time it was an entirely different level of skill. -Was she fighting me in a style she was unfamiliar with?!- "How long has it been master?" She'd asked when their blades locked and they were within centimeters of each other.

"Since I've wielded a lightsaber in battle? excluding the millennia I slept, seventy years" That last bit was uttered, with something almost akin to shame. Rheanessya yelped when they broke blades and her master suddenly switched to Makashi and she was "stabbed" in the thigh. Miryia tried again, Rheanessya managed to block that time and her follower up but the third hit her under the right breast and wind had been knocked out of her. Miryia had one, only one scratch on her clothing, a burn mark between her shoulder and breast where Rheanessya had gotten off the start of a strike before the woman's reflexes pulled her back. To her shock, her master appeared thankful. The candor was a balm to her soul, Miryia was always so guarded, except around the (now) 501st General Cardinal and her, though she showed traces of the same with the Bothan and Supreme Commander Pellaeon, though it seemed at times calculated with the old man. "You're learning apprentice" "and the rust is falling off your scales master"

A small smile graced her face "A snake am I?" she asked, a tone that seemed to be lyrical with laughter. Her blade disengaged and she walked over to the taller woman and pulled some errant strands of hair out of her face. Rheanessya had changed out of her inquisitorial garb and was wearing a green tunic with similar colored stormtrooper armor in a breast plate below her garb. Those gestures of affection, interspersed between moments where she was vindictively cold with others had confused her at first. It was odd, how she could be so tender towards her student and allies, but so, Sithlike in other ways. -only never call her Sith to her face- Or to her behind either, in reality.

Doors swung open and two regular army soldiers entered, her 104. Behind them, a member of the Royal guard adorned all in crimson, his robes masking his face and a force pike at hand. Miryia turned at an angle, inclining her head to look down at the personal royal guard of the man she'd just crushed to death upon his own throne three days ago and who served the heretic freak before him. Grand Moff Hissa had insisted she take a detail of the Royal guard and fly in one of their capital ships. Miryia was not about to take a kriffing Star Destroyer unescorted anywhere again nor was she going to take an entire ISD battlegroup anywhere near Pentastar space and so she opted to let him have his childish show of force displays and need to "heap prestige" by his own hand upon her and opted to take a Dreadnaught class Heavy Cruiser..one hilariously painted in the colors of the Royal guard...A reminder, that they were broken now and existed on their sufferance.

-A people should know when they're beaten- Miryia had told her. -As I knew- she countered and when her master nodded and asked her why she decided to rise above it, the reason for such harshness became clear. It motivated and her treatment of sentients who did find the strength to rise was always cordial at worst, outright friendly at best. "We're about to come out of hyperspace, we shall enter orbit five minutes after that...Invictus...Janus"

Ah yes, it was insisted that Miryia not merely revive the inquisitors or some other preexisting Imperial title. If she was to be the mother of a new force using order, one sworn to uphold the tenets of Order and keep the imperial peace then they intended to do what the Republic had, make that order the spiritual and cultural "Capital" of the Empire, the codification of its way of life as the Sith had been. The Rank of "Pontifex Invictus" was created for her, she would be the head of a new cult and the commander of its legions, all to reinvigorate the Empire. But that didn't mean the Crimson guard had to like it, nor did it mean she was magically going to forgive them for siding with weakness and in doing so, nearly costing the Galaxy everything.

Invictus Janus, it meant the Imperial Remnant was now ruled by a tripod of power. A thing Rheanessya knew to be incredibly unstable, fortunately she was her mistress' support as it seemed were her allies.

Ysane Isard had proposed that title, the former title of the Supreme Commander of the Humanocentric, Jedi killing cult Pius Dae that had been wiped out some ten thousand years before the coming of the Sith and had been in their day. The woman's passive aggression backfired when she gladly took the title "to claim it in the name of those they sought to destroy"

"Have you begun broadcasting the signal?"

"As you have instructed Invictus Janus"

"Set us down, someplace sunny, he rather liked the sound of tropical birds"

The Crimson clad praetorian looked up, but Miryia dismissed him with a gesture before slowly curling in a turn, allowing her robes to wrap about her body in a way that indeed, reminded Nessya of serpent scales. "You have questions apprentice"

"Won't enemies notice the call?"

Miryia waited a moment, allowing Nessya to process what she'd just asked and then the woman blushed "forgive me..any personal code you transmit would be two thousand years old" though, she thought, it might still be on record, a database of cold distress and call signals maintained to ensure no rescue vessels were dispatched chasing ghosts from millennia passed. Sensing this Miryia inclined her head in an almost imperceptible nod. "But this was a code of mine in no records, for only one other person in the Galaxy used it"

Nessya raised her eyebrows, who, from those ancient times could still be alive? Beside her?

As Eshen fled he came across a dead officer and dug into his bandoliers and thankfully found a keycard.

“Jackpot…”

Taking the road back Eschen fled the force adept, hoping to find a useful weapon amongst the dead Imperials he left.

In orbit of Thule

Screed watched below on the planet impatiently, that woman mystic Vader trained had better been correct. Lanu Pasiq she was called, a former Jedi, even one pledged to the Empire couldn't be trusted at this point. He knew all about the Jedi plot to overthrow the Chancellor before such a creature should be kept at arm's length.

He had searched this planet out on Zsinj’s request, it was likely a test of loyalty after all he was simply an ally not a true underling of the Warlord, and the Raptors given to him as a gift were more than likely exicutionors if the time ever arose.

He was no fool when he allowed the Warlords forces onto Gladiator, he was depleted after Endor and he was desperate for support at this point. It was still a disgrace to go from one of Palpatine’s right hand men into one of the many Imperial Warlords feeding on his Empires corpse to survive.

What was worse was Screed was allying with a poser like Zsinj, he was already a decorated Veteran of combat before Zsinj was a boy who had entered the late stages of the Clone wars riding his mother’s coattails. Eventually her son became her executioner, he had great respect for Maarisa which is one of the few reasons Screed tolerated her son.

Many of the man's rivals underestimated Zsinj’s cunning, he often obfuscated stupidity to hide his sociopathic tendencies leaving many of his rivals dead and the handlebar mustache twirling blowhard free to feed on their corpses.

Screed was not a man of the same calibur and preferred working with the predators rather than becoming prey like Sate Pestage, a soon to be carcass surrounded by hungry beasts thirsting for his position. Jace Dallin, became Prey for questioning the New Order of things, as did his old friend Dodonna when he tried to fight against it alongside his only son.

Screed was resolved to survive the Empires collapse, maybe spend the rest of his life in comfort of his private Empire, and if it required him to do the bidding of an inferior such as Zsinj so be it.

“Admiral there seems to be some kind of conflict outside of the Storehouse, our sensors detected blaster fire and explosions.” A bridge crewman knocked screed out of his musings.

“Deploy a raptor team at once! We must have the facility intact. It may be Rebel interlopers! Eliminate all parties.”

The name for Zsinj’s pet military force was apt, Screed would once again be taking the role of the predator.

Imperial troops transports descended from the sky in formation escorted by TIE fighters. The Raptors within loaded their weapons and prepared themselves to face down whatever enemy had attempted to break into the vault. Those below would have to now face one dozen Raptors and a two dozen of Zsinj’s soldiers. While intel on who exactly had broken into the vault was scarce, Screed was certain that Raptors could take them. Once they were disposed of, Screed had been ordered to send in a team of specialists to open the vault and loot its contents. According to Imperial records secured by Zsinj’s spies, this particular vault held something of great value to Emperor Palpatine. However, the manifesto detailing its contents had been expunged following the death of Palpatine. Zsinj and Screed figured that the records were wiped after a kill switch was activated following the death of the Emperor. It was clever, but not clever enough to deter Zsinj from sending a force there to secure whatever it was that Palpatine had placed within.

The ground around the vault rumbled as the transports approached. TIE fighters roared past as the transports settled only a few feet away from the main entrance near a clearing in the trees. Zsinj’s conscripts along with a pair of TIE maulers were the first to emerge from the transports. They secured a perimeter around the landing site before beginning their approach toward the vault. The Raptors emerged from the transports last, serving as the rear guard for the main group. With precision, the Raptors split and began to cover ground around the vault’s entrance, ensuring that the area was clear before setting up a camp on site. Seeing the bodies littered about, the Raptor’s leader figured that whoever had been here was able to wipe out a whole squad of Stormtroopers, several Imperial Commandos and two Royal Guards. He theorized that New Republic Commandos had attempted a raid but failed to get to the vault itself. A group of Raptors approached the doors, seeing that they had been sealed. Upon closer study, the doors had clearly been closed recently. That seemed to shut down the theory that whoever was behind this hadn’t been successful. Or… the Imperials were still here.

Bonadan, Dock 116

It was a quiet, typical morning; the day starting off so innocently with the last spice ship from the night before leaving for its destination elsewhere. As the dockhands, guards and enforcers for the day shift lazily move in to take over their already departing coworkers, little did they know that today was going to be their last day on the job.

The first spice freighter they were supposed to receive, one of the ubiquitous CEC models made its way towards the dock; in quite the hurry judging from its pace.

"Why isn't she slowing?"

Jyn Liak asked, the young half-Zeltron shifted in place, eyeing the vessel nervously as it kept its heading, heedless of the automated warnings sent to it.

"No idea...Raise 'em on the comm Jyn!"

Barked His'zro 'grass, an elderly Zabrak male who'd already lost one arm to a spice fried freighter Captain that came into the station, hugging the catwalks tightly enough that the old Corellian junker simply twisted his limb off. For him, it brought memories of the unpleasant experience to the surface.

For the foreman, S'skistos a Dreathos it reminded the old lizard far too much of a the tactics used by the fanatics of Pallowa that Grand Master Yoda had exterminated six centuries ago...

"This isn't a spiced out spacer! His'zro activate the tractor beams! Push her away!"

"They aren't functioning!"

"Weapons!?"

"The gun crews are in the middle of rotation! Nobody's manning them!"

"I'm picking up something hot!?"

Jyn let out a terrified cry, both men whipped around

"...f..fire...fire"

The terror in the elder Dreathos' voice was matched only by the one armed Zabrak who lunged for one of the emergency cells designed to shield the comm and docking crews from hazardous chemicals and waste spillage should freighters suffer a mishap.

Below them, alarm klaxons woke sleepy gunners who were busy napping off an all too heavy lunch with too much alcohol. Their slowed reactions to rising, causing one to stumble and hit his chin on the long, plasteel ladder rising up to the firing tower. The Zeltran spat a piece of his tongue and cursed as dark black blood spilled from his mouth. The youth cursed, furious at his injury which he was convinced was the result of another of those damned drills. "mugh withs, gonna kurrll me..forl..dis" he muttered, growling at the lack of annunciation. Storming off, he abandoned his post stomping by a pair of Sephi who were holding their little girl who was scared for reasons she couldn't quite put to words.

Neither parent would have the chance to ask their little girl what was wrong, nor would the irate Zeltran get a chance to complain to his Union rep as the vessel speeding towards the docks, smashed into the floor at such speeds that its nose came sheering off and the vessel lurched upwards, its engines roaring as they began to shape loose, tearing its aft section in twain. What followed was a demented cry of "Run!" From the Dreathos before vessel exploded turning the world charcoal gray and bright orange..and then..to the horror of several dodging debris, a brilliant hue of pink then green, yellow and finally white as the world exploded and debris smashed into the lower levels with such force that the Zeltran was smashed in the torso by a turbolift tearing out of its walled entrance and impacting against his form.

The Sephi parents did this best to shield their daughter, but the floor buckled, then it twitched, then it lurched inward before being vomited up against the ceiling with such force nearly twelve thousand tons of plasteel and wiring passed through the forms of the Sephi's whose bodies all but splattered apart.

The radiation wave hit, causing tibana gas improperly stored within the munitions chamber of the gun towers to go off. The drunks who'd made it half way up, tasted metal, licked their lips and would have realized they'd just tasted radioactive dust were it not for the gas igniting and causing a wave of superheated plasma to impact against them with such violent they had the dubious of honor of being the first sentients in that corner of the system to be decapitated by their own pelvic bones.

The Dreathos grabbed the halfbreed, yanking her into another one of the lockers as the plastiglass was converted into superheated molten particles which splashed all over the Sullustan Kinja Diapa, who'd been there sensor suit operator and who'd been force to pull a triple shift that week and might have detected the radioactive material before Jyn was forced to use his console had he not been so exhausted due to severe mismanagement. Diapa attempted to let out a scream but his vocal cords were being incinerated and as his traumatized body inhaled sharply Diapa's lungs superheated.

His last thoughts were of his wives, their fifty children.

Below, a passenger liner filled with families on a commute from their homes in the sprawling corporate sectors of the expansion region to their vacation homes on Aquila was caught in the debris. A mother was cut clear in half by a blade from the intake valve, her son ran for cover dragging mommy only to turn his head and realize he was only pulling half of mommy. others were caught by the radiation itself, many died instantly from the massive overdose, the shadows of their bodies would later be found to have been burned into the plasteel dock
Debris both metal and sentient, all saturated with hundreds of times the lethal dose of radiation spread about the facility.

The world went dark
And then
the screams began.

"mommy, mommy..where's the rest of you mommy?! Mommy..why does the air taste funny?"

"WHERE IS MY SON?! HAS ANYONE SEEN MY SON?!"

"my hand, my hand, it burn, it burns!"

"MY SKIN IS ON FIRE!!!"

Others, were already dying, or in the agonized throes of one who was experiencing total ionization of the ferrous material in their blood. Those would die the most horribly, gamma radiation would turn them into living soup, as the ionized iron literally boiled their blood, causing them to seizure and sneeze bits of brain out as their spines shattered from the convulsions.

A pregnant woman who had been caught in the blast was vaporized utterly, the shadow of both her and her baby's eerily skeletal form would remain forever plastered to one wall...an odd tribute to life denied.

But above the fray, the cacophony of the damned a soft whisper of "I'm so sorry kid" could be heard, as the Dreathos clutched the halfbreed, who'd jumped with him into a safety locker only for the debris to dent the door enough that radiation seeped in. She'd absorbed ten times the lethal dose, but well within parameters for the antirad stim to fix. Only for him to find out the debris had severed her spine and she was now suffocating in his arms, holding him tight with tears, murmuring how much she wanted her daddy.

Jyn was seventeen. S'Skistos was eight hundred and sixty five, beloved and called "grandpa" by much of the crew. but today he failed his little ones..and he resolved to get revenge on whatever animal had done this. After he had laid down the now silent and cold body of the young Half-Zeltron with as much gentleness as his shaking hands could, there is a terrible metallic groaning coming from the partially collapsed and half-molten entryway to the control room as something was forcing its way inside, maybe a droid that made it through the explosion intact and was sent by whoever's still alive after all that? What else would be strong enough or respond as quickly as this?

"I'm still alive down here!"

Still believing that the droid outside steadily ripping away at the ruined durasteel doors had come to his aid, the reptilian would soon find that it wasn't salvation that had come for him, it was his doom. He knew the moment he had laid eyes upon the thing that had come for him.

"No... No..."

The monster before him wan't supposed to be here... It should be dead! But once he realized just who had come for him, past the delirium and nausea of his brain shutting down from the radiation destroying his neurons, the Dreathos knew it in his old bones, that his vengeance was an impossible dream and that he would die here, 800 years of life culminating in this singular moment... A pitiful death surrounded by the bodies of all he had failed... He just hopes that whatever black heart in that thing before him had, it would make it quick...

"Kriff..."

And so were the last words of S'skistos before his head was blown apart into a cloud of ash and burning bone fragments from a blaster bolt. A red glow settling on the two corpses underneath the gaze of the Dreathos and the Half-Zeltron's murderer, the thing strides past their broken forms with neither glee nor guilt, to the slayer; it had all become so routine. Making its way into the staff turbolift, the killer readies its armaments for the extermination to come.

The staff turbolift rings out with a tinny ring, catching the attention of the confused and shaken dockworkers who were lucky enough to be deep inside the structure, the men below having little idea of just how bad the situation topside was.

"Quick guys, get the antirads and first aid kits they're gonna-"

The dockhand's sentence was cut off as his entire sternum deflagrated into a fireball before the rest of his compatriots were cut to pieces by a sudden and lethal barrage of blaster fire from the turbolift. Moments later, the only noise made in the now-emptied hallway aside from the smoldering corpses was the soft whirring of high-performance servomotors and clanking of metallic feet.

"Hang in there!"

"Captain" Udo Tyree muttered, a human born to slaves in the space mines of Kessel, he'd dreamed of being a cop in his youth, but his mean birth and the merciless climate of the outer rim forced to settle with being an enforcer for various organized crime masters until the Zann consortium came and with Tyber's outfit came order and with order came a thug's badge. Around him, warning klaxons alerting the survivors both to rad leaks and chemical fires but also to failing AG fields and worse an intruder.

"Hang in there" he ordered again. Fortunately, they were too far into the station to be effected by the radiation from the dirty bombs. However, the exploding vessel and structural damage caused dozens of secondary explosions.

The Rodian slumped over his shoulder, holding in his guts with a hand was Dorfyus Zeebo, a former hitman turned merchant marine and security rep for the shell company that Zann used to smuggle his narcotics.

The lights began to flicker and steam and other, less than savory vapors choked the air. A khaleesh and Gamorrian ran towards the pair, the piggie was his security deputy and the Khaleesh was a drunk they'd detained.

"D'Kriff happened here bossman?" Growled the Khaleesh "No idea! One moment all was still the next..."

Their conversation was interrupted by the frenzied howling of an enormous Wookie hurtling towards them in a mad charge, His fur ablaze, filling the air with the acrid stench of burning flesh.

Udo put him out of his misery with a well aimed blaster bolt to the face. "We need to move"

"What about the stuff?!"

"Kriff the stuff..anti rad droids won't be able to stop chemical fires and the suppression system failed because some of nerf brained idiot embezzled the funds for general maintenance!"

"We need to...to-"

It came at first, a soft buzzing noise that seemed more and more like the whirring of servos, but it was so soft it could have been mistaken for the echoes of the myriad mechanical failures occurring about the station. "what..the.."

Something was advancing towards them, a tall, gaunt figure in the darkness, skeletal and yet strong enough to hold an E-web single handed! Beams of light flickered in the dark, the ghoulish gaze of a macabre murderer.

The architect of this atrocity! No words needing to be said, Tyree and his men lit up the intruder with everything they had, including one particularly crazy/well prepared thug that threw a thermal detonator at it; seemingly destroying the trespasser in a cloud of superheated air and debris.

"Don't you dare relax, keep-"

And then Tyree was blown in half by a thunderous volley of crimson bolts, with the rest of his men following him close behind into Chaos as the thing mercilessly gunned them all down as it strode past the smoke, whatever blaster bolts sent towards it from those lucky or swift enough to seek cover or go prone deflecting across the armor plate comprising the slayer's form. The survivors quickly realized the futility of their resistance and begged for mercy, throwing their blasters to the floor or feigned death, hoping that it wouldn't stop to check.

Their optimism was sadly unfounded as they too were executed. No mercy was spared, no quarter given, no witnesses left to tell of the tragedy that befell this soon-to-be cursed place.

At last reaching its destination, a pair of rather tastelessly imposing durasteel sliding doors more at home at a star cruiser' as part of an emergency bulkhead than a "civilian" dock such as this, it only took the intruder a few seconds to bypass the meter-thick doors with a thermal detonator before it lets itself in, only to find the gaudily-decorated office empty and unspoiled; suspiciously so. However, the killer was not so easily fooled by how orderly the office was and within a few moments, discovers a hidden turbolift behind a holobook shelf that was presumably just for the sake of decoration. Taking its second trip in a turbolift for the day, the minor inconvenience was soon rewarded when the killer steps out into an underground hangar built beneath the dock's foundations and finally laying eyes upon its quarry, who was hurriedly initiating the startup sequence of his personal Z-95 Headhunter.

"Ulthak Canaris..."

The killer spoke in a warbled, low-pitched digitized growl as it brought the E-WEB to bear and reduced one of the snubfighter's engines into a flaming wreck with a volley of blaster bolts, trapping its victim with it as it discarded the now-useless heavy blaster now that its plasma pack had run dry and its barrel warped to the point of uselessness from the abuse its wielder had subjected it to. Watching with crimson-hued photoreceptors as its target struggled to dismount the crippled Headhunter, the killer draws forth a master-crafted vibrosword from its back and marches towards the Zann Consortium scumdog the Hutts had paid it to kill with singleminded purpose, its mechanical stride steady and measured in sheer contrast to the chaos raging around it.

"They sent you?!"

The defiler all but screamed, the pause in his voice seemed to suggest he'd know who "they" were. He'd long ago stopped worrying about death, infiltrating systems controlled by the Empire or the Alliance was always risky, the more success a defiler had the more it out him on Tyber's radar and that had its own risks. But to send The Highsinger, there were assassins and then there were assassins, even IG 88 lacked the level of seeming soulful glee with which the legendary droid went about his missions. He backed slowly away, taking a breath "Of all beings...why..." well, he thought, no matter, a shaky hand went for his blaster and it seemed though he was going to take a shot at Highsinger only for the barrel to point under his chin a click and...Nothing.

A hysterical laugh left the Defiler's throat "I forgot to change the powerpack out". No matter, the man ran towards a vibro blade, if he couldn't kill himself he could at least make the droid work for it.

Calmly stopping his stride as the maddened Defiler rushed to arm himself before charging forth to meet his end with some form of dignity, the half-moon crested droid waited up until the criminal had hefted his blade over his head, unleashing a warcry that was equal parts rage-filled and terror-stricken, a noise that the long-lived droid had heard hundreds of thousands of times to the point that such a reaction was practically mundane to the likes of the assassin, and honestly speaking, his had half expected the Zann boss to instead beg or bargain for his life. Lost in his reminiscing, the Highsinger noticed that his quarry was now exactly where he wanted him and faster than an eyeblink, the droid lashed out with a slash that was perfectly executed yet with no flourish or any exertion aside from swinging the blade itself, an attack that perfectly encapsulated what Highsinger was: Pure, relentles efficiency.

Immediately after the Defiler's foot had once again made contact with the ground, his head and his arms from the shoulder down abruptly detached from his body in arcing sprays of crimson lifeblood that splashed against the droid's blaster-proofed frame and aesthetically-designed visage in a perversely beautiful manner to any unlucky enough to bare witness; the syndicate boss already dead the moment his helmeted head bounced off the duracrete floor. Casually retrieving the head as he shook the blood off his vibroblade, the Droid then makes its way back up to the surface by retracing its steps and encountering no further hostiles, Highsinger gets in contact with his employer via an encrypted holocomm.

"Zann's holdings on Bonadan have been irreparably damaged and the "Defiler" in charge of the operation is no more."

As a lone transport vessel exited a hangar frantically being worked on by underpowered, poorly equipped anti rad droids, the one armed Zabrak pried himself free, his eyes awash with horror, radiation protocols would save his life on this dark day but there existed no balm to his soul. The Highsinger was an assassin droid sung about in legend, a clone war era relic that some said was from a much older time. The Zabrak had long dismissed him as an urban legend but here, to see that infamous crested head emerge from the radioactive inferno it was doubtlessly responsible for, smeared in the lifeblood of its victims. Grief at the memory of the dead, all of his friends, of the dying many of whom were children, continued to cry out. His'zro 'Grass fell to his knees and let out an agonized scream.

In the void, before that scream was lost to the void. One might have heard the deep, baritone laughter of a Hutt.

And the pinging, of a song the galaxy hadn't heard in almost two thousand years.

Vader stood with a child in a room full of festivities in the Imperial Palace.

“Take note of these men Child, they seek our approval to improve their standing but they fear and hate you because you have what they desire.Learn from their folly.” A threatening Deep Automated voice said to a young man.

“Why are they scared of me? I can’t command anything and you just teach me to fight and shoot.”

“They see a potential executioner, just as the Royal Guard who train you serve the Emperor you will serve me as an Agent.”

“But doesn’t Isard have agents?”

“None of them are trained as you are and none of them are as capable. Isard is a man of no true understanding of the force.”

“But don’t you have Inquisitors for that?” The boy asked innocently.

“They serve to root out force users but they answer both the Emperor and I, you answer only to me. In addition there are only so many force sensitives at our command and I need enforcers who have resistance to it, I need to see if I can raise a warrior that can kill anything he comes across with minimal aid.”

Not only was Omega an influence, the boy he was rearing to be an apprentice Starkiller was power unbound. Vader sought a counterbalance an assassin blind to the force but capable in his own right. An army of ones like him could serve Vader just as greatly as one powerful Sith Apprentice, and it would be much easier to hide from his spies no less. The boy could simply be passed off as an elite soldier and a servant.

“So you want me to kill anyone?”

“Not yet but in time, yes. Come you must meet your rivals.”

As the boy entered the room he saw many figures, The Empires favored Admirals, the Moffs and Grand Moffs, planetary Governors of core worlds and Imperial Advisors. Vader stayed behind and observed from a distance.

He approached the Admirals each one scanned Vader’s ward with increasing suspicion and in one's case disgust.

“Why did Lord Vader let a child in here... this is no place for a boy his age.” One Admaral with red hair inquired.

“Naturally white hair on a child? Heavens who allowed a near Human in here?”

“Have some intelligence Pitta, near Human or not he's obviously a Servant of Vader.” A one eyed man with a mechanical prosthesis for his missing eye and astounding height warned in a deep voice.

“This one’s...strange I can’t sense anything from him it's like a shell…keep it away from me!” A Dark Skinned Admiral stated before leaving the room.

“I dunno why this kid's mind is so...weird but he looks adorable...man I wish my wife would just have some already.” An admiral with dark circles around his eyes contrasting to his light skin and a Dark skinned woman in a dress with his arm wrapped around her neck.

“Uhhh is that Woman your wife?” asked the boy.

“No but don’t tell her kid hahahahahaha”

"Wow the Chief told me everyone would hate me but you seem Wizard!"

Nearby other officers began to gossip.

“Well lets hope he doesn't get tossed off a building like that one poor bastard from the Ghost Prison incident. We all know what happens to people who try to seek mentorship from Lord Vader” An Admiral with a lush mustache commented.

“You should avoid reopening wounds with Trachta around, Warlord Matricide.”

“Mind your tongue Harrsk or you might have it removed in front of this child…” the man's demeanor shifted quickly from one of joviality to homicidal rage.

A Grand Moff with a breathing Apparatus and robotic eyes turned his direction to the mention of his name and the sight of the boy…

“Very interesting, a new soon to be deceased ward of the ‘Dark Lord’” he muttered to himself his vocabulator lowered.





Raptors at the door...Zsinj troopers, Emperors Black bones this day keeps getting better. Oh well maybe the Force Adept clean each other out while I strategize something while these jackasses fight it out…

Earhen whistled into the forest loudly and an array of strange rodents with antenna atop their heads appeared from the shrubbery.

(You rang?) The Creature spoke but it had no visible movement of its fur obscured mouth.

“Yeah you mind...draining some of these Maulers? I think I can make a distraction with the shuttle

(Hold on now we can only eat so much energy Earhen.)

“Ok fine...what about that asshole with the Saber? Can I bring one of you with me and you can eat his energy pack and leave him emasculated?”

(Fine but it would take nearly all of us to eat one Maulers energy pack you know.)

“I can steal the other one as a get away ride...just try to bite the driver or something.”

The creature did an audible sigh.

(Can’t you devise a better plan?)

“You guys were my backup plan! I wasn’t expecting armor with any backup...kriff let's just wait until they start fighting. I kill the pilots in both Maulers, you drain the other so no one takes over then we take off with the goods when I get back. SPIN told us they have some artifact the Warlords want to poke at and Imperial Center was getting ready to crack it open to secure Sate’s hold on things.``

(Oh why do you test me so sir Earhen.)

“Look if you do this for me and I will take you to that geothermal vent back on Yavin base.”

(Fiiine just don’t get me trampled.) The long eared rodent and his kin gathered and began rushing to the Mauler.

“Hehe time to make the bantha biscuits.” Earhen said as he extended his Vibroblade.

The Tie Mauler pilot sat alone monitoring his panel as the Raptors searched the perimeter to scout, suddenly his entire vehicle went inactive. Assigned to guard the rear as the soldiers prepared to infiltrate the door and comb the area for the rebel the pilot began to panic stupidly and ignored contacting his partner out of embarrassment and fear.

“What the hell?”

Suddenly he heard knocking on top of his vehicle's cockpit, drawing his pistol the pilot opened up the cockpit and began looking outside..only to get a Vibroblade planted at his forehead. The body lifelessly fell

“Now to act two…”

The other Mauler stationed adjacent to the other was oblivious to his partner's death, Eshen climbed over to it and repeated his strategy.

“You have to come over here my Mauler won’t work!” a distorted voice said in the internal comms.

“Alright, dammed techs can’t they do anything right? I'm going to come out soon.”

“Thanks man I don’t know what I would do without you bro.”

“Don’t be shocked you get punished for not maintaining your vehicle…”

The Pilot said as he opened up his cockpit and climbed out of his tank.

As he exposed himself a blade opened up his chest and left a bloody mess on the ground.

“Oh I don’t think I have to worry about that my guy.” Eshen said as he wore the pilots helmet as he descended down the tanks laddar with the creatures clinging to his back.

(Do you have no idea how hard blood is to get out of our coats Earhen? Any clue? You expect us to risk walking by a dead body oozing blood as we wait for you to finish poking around here?) The rodent exclaimed.

“Look I need someone to guard this thing so a Pilot doesn’t replace this asshole, and you can overwhelm one guy at least here you’re tough little Bunnies.”

(Flattery will get you nowhere.)

“Look can you do this? Just walk over the non bleeding or bile sprouting parts ok?”

(Eww I swear this is one of the last times I listen to Plif to help out a friend of a friend.)

“Come on now, this is war little guy, it's not glamorous.”

(“Leave Abra we’ll get together we’ll have a few laughs”) The Telepathic Rodent complained.

“Now come with me boss man the rest of your boys stay here until I get back. That way you don't have to worry about your magnificent coat being ruined.”

(I swear you Humans, out of all of the ones in the Republic you are the most irreverent.)

“Let's get a moving leader bun.”

(Humph) the creature said as he entered Earhen's jacket.

Earhen slowly Climbed down from the Mauler and hid behind it.

“Tell me when they start noticing anything strange in their thoughts Scitter.”

(They are too focused on the door...the explosion should be happening soon...the Adept senses us but he has bigger concerns.)

“Good that means he still can’t feel my intent heh.”

(He's pretty worried about these troopers he's out of the loop.)

“Tisk this is why everyone should pay more attention to the Holonet”

An explosion went off and the Raptors began to storm the facility.

“Showtimes about to begin.”

(Oh bother..you better not fall on me!)

Lythos IX Corporate Sector

It had been amusing to her, immensely so to hear the Vessel's Captain and her apprentice attempt to dissuade her from landing on Lythos Nine, the sleepy Agriworld had been almost a blip on the radar before her long sleep and evidently that hadn't changed. One of thousands of what were called "harvest worlds", the breadbaskets of the expansion region and of Coruscant and other world cities. They were a dime a dozen, perhaps more so now. To think this "corporate sector Authority" were at all going to sniff them out on this world was a laughable notion, even if their paranoia was expected and proper. -They're not all a lost cause- she thought, some of these Remnant officers simply needed reminding that they were soldiers and that even if she was a "xeno" she was still a Janus and still, their superior. Her eyes narrowed every so lightly as the solar rays of the planet's primary danced along crystal clear water that allowed for visibility up to seventy meters. Water so pure it made a prism of itself at noon, that had been a sight she caught on her first day here. What a majestic sight to behold, a whirling swirl of refractive light reminded her of the intensity of her first immersion into the force, so long ago.

Ahead of her, the former Inquisitor sat, on her knees immersing herself in the force as per her teachings. The first, true immersion the woman likely ever experienced. -we would suppress our emotions and listen to the force, channel it, or try too- Aladar had explained and -Lord Vader taught us to seek out the darkside with our fury, let it act as a lure, guide it in with bait and then subjugate it-. Of course that had never worked apparently and all she could manage was to fuel her own self hatred and guilt, her powers were stunted and she would have succumbed to darkside rot had she not mustered up the courage to seek out her better for council. fortunately, Miryia thought for she refused to take an ugly person, mottled and ruined by a moronic interpretation of how to effectively wield the darkness. She'd have killed the former inquisitor then, instead opting to teach the aesthetically and psychologically pleasing woman, though slowly for she wasn't anywhere near emotionally ready to begin to call upon the dark. To learn to refine and wield the profane material and avoid the damage therein, one must first needed to become a burning, beacon of light. To take the raw untempered core energies of the "lightside" of the force into oneself until one became a roaring furnace, a crucible fueled by the very substance that would burn away the impurities of the dark, permitting one to fold it, mold it and shape it while insulated by that most vibrant of flames. It had taken Apprentice Aladar time to comprehend this, but she could begin to detect the subtle changes in her body, the gentle regrowth of wearing muscles, the restoration of arteries that had hardened due to the violence of her youth and her adult life. -It is perverse how underutilized her talent was- the Sith, she expected to be dismissive imbeciles, their brains addled by overuse of the darkside. But the Jedi? Her former peers?

It was blasphemously disgusting.

-vile, contemplative buffoons- hands gripped around a lavish chair which obscured most of her body from the rays of tropical sun that browbeat many a spacer who'd not absorbed proper UV in quite some time. For Miryia, the sojourn on Lythos, represented not only a chance for her to test her theory, but for her to relax, to rest her mind, reconstitute her powers and stabilize her "forge" the manner in which she described the inner will of a force wielder, the wrights of the so called higher mysteries used to perform the feats lesser beings deemed miraculous. How could she have both succeeded beyond her expectations and yet failed so ruinously? Had she not planned to ensure the war would endure the ages? Culminate in the extinction of both orders? And perhaps it had, in the end, though it took an extra thousand years. Lamentably it had left everything else intact, a thing she would have to remedy. -the expenditure was well worth it- she thought, in participating in that coup de'tat and performing a minor miracle mere hours after she'd reinvigorated the faith many had in "force users" and in doing so gained no small amount of followers and her new rank, the "cultural soul" of the Empire. Charged with uniting the masses behind the idea of the New Order.. "Pontifex Invictus" she rolled the title around on her tongue again, ah yes, it was worth it but it would be nothing compared to what would come. For now though, only two things remained ahead of her, the infiltration of the Jedi Praxeum, to comprehend that soulless monstrosity and his order of pretenders.

And, to reunite with a very old friend.

Ahead of her, the woman who had been dismissed as fodder but the talentless, the stupid and the dull, delved deeply into her being and soon, her soul too began to burn within the force.

The Serpent smiled..

Yavin IV
The Jedi Temple



A series of sharp, high-pitched whistles and shrills escaped the rocking droid beside Alara. Before she could turn and try to calm her companion, the little astromech droid bolted forward as fast as its three leg-wheels could carry it.

“Zee, wait!” Alara called out, but it was too late. The stun rod equipped to one of R6-D6’s arms released a small electric arc between its tiny pincers, then darted towards Lahana’s left knee in frustration.

His master caught up behind it and brought her small arms around its frame, just in case he tried pursuing after the initial strike. “Calm down!” she pleaded, fighting against Zee’s motor.

Lahana flinched as the droid rolled towards her. What was it doing? Was it malfunctioning, did it think she was a threat somehow? She felt a jolt to her leg, a zap that felt a little too familiar. She clenched her teeth and jumped back. She reached out her hand towards her blaster which was sitting next to her lightsabers. She stopped herself from pulling it towards herself as she realized Alara was holding the droid back. "W-what is that thing's problem!?" She yelled with shaky words, her eyes glancing back to the weapons sitting on a table.

She went for the blaster, not her lightsaber. Why?

R6-Z6 released a triumphant whistle and loosed a few sparks of electricity from its stun rod in a threatening display. Its dome-head rotated towards its stationary brother, with a single dark eye focusing on its broken joint. It stopped itself from accelerating forward and focused its eye on Alara, chirping with annoyance.

“I’ll tell her, I’ll tell her!” Alara promised. Only after she said so did the fiery astromech withdraw its stun rod; its ‘face’ returned to Lahana, watching for her next move with calculated precision. One wrong step and it would come after her again.

Standing up again, Alara glanced at the broken joint of Lahana’s training droid and gestured to it with a weak jerk of her wrist. “That set him off,” she explained. “Zee has a lot of pride in being a droid, but not everyone respects them like I do. When he saw you break that droid’s arm, he got upset.” She frowned. “To be fair, you were really going hard at it. I could hear its joints straining from the doorway.”

Her attention moved to Lahana’s leg, examining the small black mark created by Zee’s attack. “Is there any bacta we can rub on that, or will you be okay?”

Lahana looked down at her leg, she raised it and bent her knee a few times. "It's fine..." She mumbled, before looking to Alara's droid. She glanced back to the training machine. "I don't get it, but I'll have someone repair it." The droid didn't have an advanced AI core, it was built simply to move it's hands. She doubted it even had the ability to care that it's arm was broken. But then again, droids weren't exactly her specialty.

Lahana ruffled her hair, letting part of it fall to cover the scarred side of her face. "Did you, uhm, need something?"

“There, you see?” Alara mumbled to Zee, lightly nudging him with her fingers. “She probably didn’t mean it, and they’ll be fixed good as new.”

Zee let out a low groan, its dome looking from Lahana to the training droid’s broken joint. He didn’t believe Lahana would keep her word, but he chose to believe in Alara's request as it would be much nicer than the one he'd give. One more moan left him before he returned to her side.

“Zee’s a tough little guy, but he’s also pretty sensitive,” she explained quietly to Lahana, pressing the palms of her hands together. Whether Lahana understood his feelings or not wouldn’t matter, she only needed to take greater care of her training droids in the future.

In all the excitement she nearly forgot why she wanted to come. “Oh!” She jumped a little, her smile returning. “I was wondering, could you show me to your library? You’re the first person I’ve come across since entering your temple; I didn’t want to bother the guards outside to find someone for me, but the hallways are so long and winding, and so many of your rooms are empty! You guys really need to ask for furniture donations or something!”

Zee rotated his dome head around towards the exit, then rotated his body around with it. He wheeled himself out of there, an impatient whistle loosed from his vocabulator.

Alara glanced back at Zee before motioning towards the doorway. “If it’s not too much trouble, that is. I really tried to find it on my own, I did. Oh, I did find the bathrooms though—three times. I might’ve gone in a circle.”

"The library... right." She could count on one hand the number of times she'd been there. If she were ever curious about something she simply asked her master about it. Still, she was certain she knew where it was. "I need to uh, take a shower first." She had worked up a sweat from her workout, as evidenced by her soaked shirt and disheveled hair. She was thankful that she'd worn something with long sleeves, she didn't need Alara or anyone else seeing her scars. She let out an awkward laugh. "Ha, I got lost a few times when I first got here too."

She walked past Alara, making sure to give her droid a wide breadth as she grabbed her robe. It didn't take long for her to shower and return, now donning her Jedi robe. she motioned for Alara to follow her as she exited the room.

"So... What sort of thing are you looking for anyway? History or something?"

“Anything.” Alara shrugged, still with a smile plastered on her face when Lahana returned. She spent the few minutes during Lahana’s absence talking to Zee about no longer charging at Jedi Padawans—especially those that accidentally hit a droid too hard. Zee—as before—promised nothing. “I’ve never gone into a library or a database knowing quite what I’m after. One minute I’m studying flora and fauna found on Felucia, and the next I’m learning more about Rodian Theater. But, lately, I’ve really been interested in the Wookiee homeworld and their people; I actually wanted to go out there someday!”

After today, she doubted she would get to walk in Kashyyyk’s Shadowlands anytime soon. Wedge needed every talented pilot he could get, and that went double for the New Republic as a whole. Skilled pilots were in demand now more than ever after the losses sustained at Endor.

“I’ve fallen asleep reading more times than I could even begin to count,” she said. “What sort of things do you like reading about? Do you know any languages? What sort of teaching curriculum do you have here?”

"Um..." Lahana narrowed her eyes and averted her gaze from Alara. Why was she asking so many questions, and why was she so excited? Was reading really that fun for her, or maybe it was learning that was enjoyable? "I don't really read much anymore." Lahana grumbled and fiddled with her braid. "The children are given a pretty normal education... at least I think it's normal, it was hard for me." Her mouth quivered, how many languages did she know? "Just Basic. I use a translator for everything else." A bold faced lie, she knew one other language. But it was the tongue of the men that had enslaved her. She hadn't spoken a word of it in years.

They soon reached the entrance to the library. In spite of whatever permission she had, the stuck up receptionist motioned to voice a complaint. Lahana glared in their direction, and they promptly sat down.

“Oh,” Alara mumbled with genuine astonishment; she couldn’t fathom not enjoying a good book from time to time, but as a Jedi it would be understandable that martial training took precedence. As for Lahana’s remarks regarding the curriculum and needing a translator, it was Zee who whistled in a sarcastic fashion only Alara could understand.

“Be nice.” Zee rotated his dome head back and forth—that was a no. Alara smiled at Lahana. “Zee says, ‘Do you beat up your translators, too?’. He might take longer than I thought.” She mouthed the word ‘sensitive’ to her Jedi companion and snickered, then quickly straightened up once she heard Zee’s head rotate in their direction.

Arriving at the temple library, Alara wasn’t blessed by the sight of rows upon rows of holobooks and flimsiplast texts that she imagined. What she instead saw were half-empty shelves across a single floor; rows were filled with a combination of holobooks and paper texts, however the amount of available shelf space far exceeded the space that was filled. It was far from the library she dreamed about seeing someday, yet her eyes still lit up with the possibility of learning something new. The Jedi; their martial practices, their dogma and philosophy, and even the history predating the Empire was almost at her fingertips.

Alara didn’t catch the receptionist’s move to complain. As swiftly and silently as her feet could carry her, she briskly moved for the nearest bookshelf and moved to examine the spines and columns. The biggest challenge was deciding what to dive into first.

“This is so awesome!” she whispered excitedly as Zee pulled up beside her. “Lahana? Lahana, where are the books about combat disciplines?”

Lahana looked down at the droid and tapped at a small device in her left ear. "Only if it ticks me off." She said. She'd forgotten to turn her translator on, it gave off annoying feedback when she used it so she tended to leave it alone.

Alara was enthused by the sight of the library in spite of it's less than impressive selection. Lahana had a similar reaction to seeing the kitchen, so she could relate in a way. "Combat forms..." Lahana mumbled to herself as she tried to remember where the texts were kept. "This way." She knew where those were at least, Kale had her study some forms to cover her shortcomings in handling a lightsaber. "Here's a copy about the history of Shii-Cho. Apparently it's the first form developed for lightsaber combat." She said, motioning to a shelf. "The original text is held somewhere else, it's too fragile to be used constantly." She recited what she was told about the document, she'd never seen it herself. It wasn't as if she'd tried to see it anyhow, after all what would be the point? It's just a dusty old scroll.

Alara willed herself to leave her current selection of books behind and follow after Lahana, a curious Zee keeping pace behind them. Offering a shy wave of the hand to a Rodian who looked up from his own book to see them passing by, she followed her companion around another corner and stood in front of the shelf she gestured to. There, seated among a few other holobooks, sat the one containing information about Shii-Cho.

“The first ever?” Alara asked. “Or the first known?” She took the holobook from its shelf and motioned for a vacant table nearby. She set the book down and explored its contents, swiping her finger up and down, left and right, and maximizing imagery and displays of the form’s motion in action. “Do you use this form?”

Lahana watched as Alara went through the text. Looking at her now, she didn't appear anything like a soldier. Her eyes weren't tired, her voice was soft and filled with passion. "It's known as the first form developed for lightsabers... And yes, I can use it. It's standard for Padawans to learn it." She answered, her tone passive as a thought festered in her mind. "Hey Alara, how many people have you killed?"

Alara bit her tongue; if there were any attempts at creating lightsaber forms before Shii-Cho, it likely wasn’t unearthed from possible ancient Jedi sites and archives. Her interest in a little mystery solving grew with each flick of her fingertips across the holobook’s screen. She was on the verge of asking Lahana what else she knew about lightsaber forms, as well as what kind of work went into creating her own lightsabers, until she asked a question of her own.

Her fingers ceased all taps and swipes, a chill coursing through her body. The thought of war—of killing—wasn’t something she dwelled on. Yes, she’d taken lives before, but never had she thought to keep count of those she was responsible for felling.

“…Ah,” Alara started, smiling weakly. She couldn’t look Lahana in the eye. “I… I-I don’t…” She shook her head and slumped her shoulders, forcing a laugh without breaking the atmosphere of the library. “I-I don’t know, Lahana.”

She resumed scanning the data beneath her, her fingers noticeably slower than before.

Lahana was still for a moment. The question had clearly bothered Alara, but she wasn't sure how to respond. Her suspicions were justified however, Alara was likely the type of person that had a strong aversion to killing. In other words, she wasn't a natural killer like herself. "Me either." Lahana responded, though their reasons were far different. Lahana had simply killed so many people that counting would be impossible.

"Um. Sorry. You just seem so... Normal. I would never guess you were a soldier." She said what she was thinking, maybe that would be right? "I know just looking through those texts won't be enough, so if you want I can show you the forms myself."

“Actually,” Alara countered, “could you talk to me about the places you’ve been, instead?”

The topic of martial skills and disciplines may have given Lahana the wrong idea. Maybe now wasn’t the best time to take her up on the offer of a demonstration. Battles didn’t excite her, not like they did Kyrin; the chance of saving lives, however, was something she would always be enthusiastic about. She wondered if Lahana felt the same kind of relief from saving friends, or even total strangers, but that may be another step backwards in their discussion.

“I’ve always wanted to go to Kashyyyk and Naboo, but I’m afraid if I used any downtime to go and explore, I wouldn’t be there to help my friends.” She powered down the holobook and placed it under her left arm, finally looking up at Lahana. “I heard back before the Empire that Jedi used to go all over the place for peacekeeping missions. What about you?”

"Oh." Lahana was prepared to give a demonstration, but she could answer this at least. "I've been to those places, though I wasn't on Kashyyyk long." She folded her arms and tilted her head in thought. "My homeworld was pretty terrible, the rain was like acid, so what plants did grow were ugly, and buildings were all made of coarse stone. Kashyyyk on the other hand is nothing but big trees. I liked it there. The air was clean, and the wookiees taught me a bit about how to hunt wild animals. Naboo was uh."

Lahana averted her gaze, as if she didn't want to say any more. "What's the word... garish? Maybe the buildings and stuff look nice to other people, but everything is just so bright... I guess I'm just too used to things being grey and dull."

Acid rainfall? ‘Vjun?’, Alara thought, but kept her lips still and allowed Lahana to continue. It was a relief to hear that the Wookiee people were growing welcoming of outsiders—at least the ones that mattered. She knew precious little about Kashyyyk during the Clone Wars, only that they welcomed aid from the Galactic Republic against the Separatist army. The Empire changed a great many things for them; knowing that they were trying to move past their rightful prejudice against humans warmed her heart.

And as for Naboo…

“But isn’t that a good thing?” she asked. “Not having everything be so bleak, I mean. Corulag had a lot of industry, but they kept a few parks around in Curamelle to give it some life… until the Empire needed to make room for more factories. My parents tried fighting to preserve them; there wasn’t enough support, and Corulag was heavily pro-Empire, so they tore them all down.”

Glancing over her shoulders, both left and right, Alara nodded towards another set of shelves. She turned and walked towards a section dedicated to the Jedi’s history; it, too, was largely barren. “I’ll stick to Shii-Cho and return it within the week. I didn’t exactly tell Wedge I’d be taking some for a while, but I hoped Master Skywalker wouldn’t mind. Do you think he’d be against me borrowing a few books and taking them back to base?”

"I guess. My time on different planets isn't usually for fun. Maybe I can change that... later." Lahana could speak much about what happened in the wars, when it came to history she only knew what was relevant for the present. Kale told her learning about the past could make her more wise, but she wasn't sure why. Something about learning from mistakes?

"uhm..." Lahana honestly didn't speak to Luke very often, and when she did she tended to forget to refer to him in a 'respectful' manner. It felt odd, considering he wasn't that much older than she was. "I don't exactly see him reading the texts all that often, I don't think he'd mind."

“He’s probably just busy,” Alara said, running her finger along several holobook spines; one titled “The Jedi Code” caught her eye. She promptly removed it and tucked it beneath her arm beside “The Fundamentals of Shii-Cho”. “I’m only going to take a couple, don’t worry,” she turned to face Lahana. “If I wasn’t a Rogue, I might not have gotten the chance to come here to begin with.”

She paused; her eyes narrowed in thought. “Say, what do you know about Luke? What’s he like when you see him?”

"Busy?" Lahana wasn't that familiar with Luke personally. Kale was the one that taught her what she knew. "I've heard about what he did, people say he's a hero. To me he just seems like a guy trying his best to put the Jedi Order back to it's former... glory? He seems to have himself put together at least."

“You’re someone trying their best, too,” Alara pointed out. “I don’t know who you were before you came here, but I think you made the right choice. The Jedi are honorable people… at least that’s what my parents told me. They fought for peace and justice. My parents didn’t believe what the Emperor said all those years ago, and neither do I.”

The attempt on the former Chancellor’s life must’ve been a fabrication. The Jedi had thousands of years to try and seize power for themselves, and they never took it. If anyone knew the truth about what happened, it wasn’t yet publicized information. Maybe Luke was waiting for more students and more masters before letting the knowledge become public.

“But, anyway, before he was a Jedi or Rogue Leader, he was just someone trying to do right. Like us.”

Zee came around the corner and let out a whistle of warning. “Really? Already?” Alara asked, looking from her little friend to her new, bigger one. “Sorry; I told the guy who gave me a ride I wouldn’t take too long and it’s already been close to half an hour. I should probably go.”

"S-sure, bye." Lahana gave a stilted wave to see Alara off, the young woman's words left lingering in her mind. The right choice? She didn't even believe she had one at the time. Luke was a hero, but what did she want to be? Simply surviving was always good enough for her. Surviving... Living... Why was she even alive? Lahana clenched her teeth. It was too quiet here and she didn't want to be left with her thoughts.

“Thanks again, for putting up with me.” Alara bowed her head in thanks and maneuvered past her, clutching the two books closely against her bosom. “I’ll bring them back soon. I promise.”

Zee quickly moved between the two women and ejected a thin arm from one of his sockets, pointing it directly at Lahana, then angling it towards his single, black “eye”. He would be watching her. And should anything else happen to his fellow droids aiding in her training, well…

He flashed his stun rod, then quickly returned it inside his body. “Zee, come on!” Alara whispered from afar, easily picked up by his audio receptors. The astromech unique gave Lahana one last, lingering look before rotating his body and following Alara out of the library.

"You aren't a bother..." Lahana said, though her voice was too quiet to hear. She watched as Alara and her droid left, her eyes squinted at Zee's movements. Was that droid... threatening her? She let out a puff of air as a slight smile creased her face.

A smile? When was the last time she genuinely smiled? Suddenly she didn't mind being left with her thoughts so much.

@TheWatchDog
Lythos IX Corporate Sector

Although his mission was complete and the credits wired to his account, Highsinger didn't immediately head for Hutt space to "cash-in" Canaris' head; this unusual breach of courtesy was due to the fact that the Droid had picked up a signal, one that he had not seen in a very long time, One that he needed to see, immediately.

Making landfall on the backwater agriworld's main spaceport, the task mundanely easy due to the fact that his ship was but one of hundreds of YT-series transports going to and from the planet and if anyone asked any questions why the droid was going about his business unattended, he'd just point to the vibroblade in the magnetic sheath on his back, quickly making them change the subject or drop it entirely.

It didn't take too long to find out anything unusual happening on this sleepy farmworld since the Empire wasn't exactly being subtle when one of their representatives decided to spend a short vacation on this unimportant rock by renting out an entire island and filling it with stormtroopers. If the one who sent out this signal was who Highsinger thought they were, then this sort of ostenatious security really wouldn't be their style... Regardless the Droid presses onward with his investigation, making good use of his recent earnings by getting himself a secondhand swoop bike and speeds towards destiny atop the blue waves...

Parking the swoop on an empty cove, it was child's play for the assassin droid to evade and bypass the patrols despite their numbers; they were the Empire's best after all... Eventually triangulating the signal's source at a stretch of white sanded beach, he finds much more than he had bargained for...

It can't be...

The sounds of soft whirring ringing from his head as internal drives defragmented and refreshed themselves, Highsinger eventually realized that was indeed facing reality and not currently experiencing a major logic error from the seaspray somehow getting inside of him. Resolving that this was in fact a lookalike or even an impostor to the master he believed long gone, the droid makes his move, stalking through the foliage, careful to disturb the greenery as least as possible, getting as close as he could as his cover would dictate and then...

"Master."

Right behind her, Janus would hear the voice of an old friend.

@countlessinsect

Lythos IX Corporate Sector


"Truly, I'm surprised she objected to such a presence on the Island, not that I'm complaining. Shore leave was a damn sight for sore eyes" A member of the 104 muttered, he was sitting on a rock. Lazily enjoy the tropical breeze while his fellow soldier, both off duty enjoyed a leg from one of the immense water fowls sold at the local market. None of them had enjoyed fresh meat since Endor, when Imperial access to agriworlds suddenly became tightly rationed. Feeding Coruscant and the other world cities in the core and colonies region became integral to keeping riotous populations down and thus the military (outside of the command level officers and the flags of course) had been stuck on combat meal packs for months. Dreskal, the one currently devouring the roasted leg with enthusiasm only a Hutt could match muttered something about avoiding the tropical fruits. Earlier, one soldier picked the wrong one and shat himself to death from dehydration before anyone realized. Invictus Janus said something of a force prayer at his funeral, that had been on the first night of a four day stay.

Aladar had wept, wept! No inquisitor nor Acolyte, nor Hand nor wannabe Sith had ever shown the clemency of those two and a sense of religious fervor was building in the Long demoralized Remnant forces. But it was so much more than that, word had begun to spread from their lips to the farmers and then to the ports. The Galactic Empire was changing, it was a new day and the discordant, divisive republic and the solitary Pentastar alignment and Zsinj's gilded Empire would all soon look like poor options!

At least. that's what the men said.

"The Janus family is pretty high brow, she's probably used to pomp but I think she's worried about Pentastar thugs coming to bother us, where she'd be a lot less conspicuous alone."

The fowl eater shrugged, both failed to notice the soft tracks in the sand before they were carried off in the breeze. As had the sentries of the vaunted five hundred and first, who walked between trees and foliage and passed in front of a waterfall as the Highsinger passed behind it, mistaking his crested head for that of a tropical bird. A few hundred men, even energized warriors willing to fight for their new leader made for a great deterrence against divisions of enemy soldiers. They did not, however make for a good deterrent when the threat was a lone killer or a small clique of elites. Over the past seventy two hours the men relaxed more and Invictus Janus slept for ten to sixteen hours out of most days, lazing in the sun as a great serpent who'd just begun to digest an enormous meal. The Inquisitor turned Apprentice, had taken to guarding her until she was told to practice her force to muscle control exercises from the old days in the Jedi temple. Swimming around the tropical islands was both a welcoming exercise and a fun diversion, in truth it was hard to imagine anyone threatening her.

Perhaps that had been her mistake, for one morning during exercise meditations her senses, amplified by her change in emotions bristled through the force. Something approached, something artificial and at first she thought it was merely a serving droid only for its footfalls to sound heavier, more concealing, more...threatening? The apprentice rose to her feet, whirring around a hand resting on her Lightsaber until the droid which was partly obscured by the sun uttered a word that almost floored her.... "Master" and it was stated with almost reverence? She could detect no menace which was odd because evidently the Highsinger bounty hunting and assassination droid was not only real but standing beside her master?! Part of her wanting to yell and reprimand the soldiers but another part of her realized how correct Master had been in her observance that the large number of men weren't going to protect her from any real threats. "Stand back!" Aladar was dense, as her master was fond of saying, but she wasn't stupid (As her master was also fond of pointing out), she wasn't going to attack this droid, jump the gun and over react based on his breaching the perimeter but, she also wasn't going to allow it to get too close until she rose.

To Aladar's surprise a hand rose in reassurance and the woman rose from her seat, as a serpent climbing a wall. The woman let out a breath and smiled as an ocean breeze passed through her bone white hair. "Ah, forgive me for not warning you dear apprentice, but I wished to both test your senses and..I wished to test the abilities of our guest" Mryia turned her head slightly, enough that her eyes locked on to Highsinger "Neither of you disappointed me" Though the way she said it, implied the notion of either of them failing her was simply impossible.

"I had despaired most at the thought of your death, you know?" She'd used the word death instead of deactivation or destruction for to Miryia there was no difference between Highsinger and the few organic sentients that she considered worth the various gasses they breathed. She had been engineered to live a around fourteen hundred years without taking force potential into the equation, but she knew her half human children likely died before they reached five or six hundred years and her grandchildren and great grandchildren were all dead and entombed at the Janus necropolis, none of this grieved her, for her genetic lineage lived on in minor branches of House Janus (though that was a tad bit insulting), she knew her progeny lived and died well. But the thought of knowing nothing about the fate of the Highsinger had brought her to tears.

It was funny how the heart worked and it was another example of how stupid Jedi were for trying to suppress emotion instead of wielding it intelligently. "Only to see patterns of the one I helped construct in the bounties collected on a dozen worlds since my departure. On, the assassinations of many others. The viral containment failure in the research outpost at Aquarius was a particularly brilliant maneuver, was it not the same strategy we implemented on Wu'han Four in the ninth year of the war?" Her eyes flickered with a zeal, a fire that was unmistakably hers. Though, the confirmation of her identity was given a secondary verification when she'd spoken of something only she could know as the rest of the Galaxy seemed to still believe both incidents were just misfortunes. Though the Wu'han breached had killed something like fifteen of the thirty two billion sentients she'd destroyed during her grand crusade against the Sith and the Aquarius outbreak only brought down a few warlords and their attendants.

"And the recent one, the terrorist attack on that space station, I've heard Emperor Zsinj is blaming Tyber Zann, how could I not recognize my Highsinger?" here, Miryia extended a hand gently grabbing the wrist of her apprentice, leading the taller woman almost as a mother would lead a child.

"Apprentice Aladar, meet the only other sentient besides yourself who has the honor of knowing me, wholly and totally. The Highsinger, my lance in the dark, my crimson left hand"

"My, gray rider."

Death with servos.

The apprentice bowed to her predecessor as Miryia turned her whole body and faced Highsinger. "Yes, it is me old friend, I yet live and there is so much still to be done!"

@Guy of Z



While the machnications of two rivals for Galactic supremacy played out and the actions of an upjumped child soldier and his telepathic rodents played out, it had seemed to Rua Skirata that the rest of the world didn't give hide nor hair to what was transpiring. The lush world, its stormy night and otherwise eerie calm highlighted what the Mandalorian thought was would make this planet excellent for game. "Too bad" he muttered, taking a long drag of some carcinogen laced stick. As he exhaled a breath of smoke, two of the raptors looked his way, behind their crimson masks they shifted nervously. Zsinj seldom sent his right hand out on mere raids anymore, not since Dathomir, not since. One swallowed, it was almost audible and Rua chuckled as he tossed his "cig" into the rain and slid the sleak, rebreather he used instead of the traditional Mandalorian combat helm over his cheeks and mouth. "Ask your question Epps" Rua liked to know the surnames of as many of the Raptors as possible, both because Zsinj considered a personal touch important and because it meant they obeyed him not simply because the Emperor instructed them too. But because they held an element of trust in their Emperors right hand man. "Well, are you here because of the terrorist attack on..on that"

Rua laughed, it was a good question, Zsinj was furious, not so much for the horrific ways those poor sods died but because of the fact that Tyber Zann thought he could run a drug ring in Empire turf without his leave. Only the Hutts Zsinj allowed to take refuge within his borders could run major organized rackets and only because they cut Zsinj and Rua in. Hutts, Rua still wasn't sure how Zann managed to conquer hutt space and the outerrim when The Republic, Jedi, Sith and even the Mandalorians gave up doing so after each wasted millennia of time and countless billions of lives in the attempts. Filing that inquiry in the back of his mind Rua eyed the man "You mean to ask, am I here because there's a force user inside?"

The Raptor nodded and Rua grinned "If it's just the adept, your boys can handle him easily enough. But I want you to leave him to me"

"If it's just the adept?"

Rua's eyes flashed a malevolent gleam as the silence was abruptly strangled by a violent roar as the main doors of the pyramidal vault tore off, vaporizing in a column of fire that roared into the air streaking upwards for hundreds of meters, tossing durasteel and plasteel debris everywhere. Rua blinked "Those weren't my bombs"

"since when do we go in through the front?" Another series of explosions went off across the complex, nixing power generators and defensive systems "ahh that's more like it" -So someone else is here- whoever that someone was, it wasn't this Sereno noble turned Jedi Master, turned eccentric art collector. The man Zsinj had described was far too clever to run in through the front.

In the pandemonium their Raptors closer to the base began to engage the enemy and crimson and green blaster fire lit up the night. "Alright, while our guys fight through the sides, lets make use of the entrance we were just gifted!"

"uhh but what do we do about whoever made that entrance?"

Rua shrugged "Detain 'em for questioning, if its too much of a fight just toss a tag on 'em and let 'em run, we'll hunt 'em down later. We're here for the schematics boys and the starcharts, the rest is immaterial so don't waste your lives trying to gran poodu Emperor Zsinj doesn't need!"

They nodded and let out a combined "howwaah!" and began to charge forward, Rua allowed the men to rush down the sloping ground a few hundred meters before he activated the AG tech on his boots and jumped into the air. Tossing a few small plastiglass viles ahead at several of what looked like black clad regular army -Kriff...Elite...what the Kriff was in here?-

Ja'Karr, you clever bastard...break'n in here without anyone noticing?

The men lit up in flames as Rua led the Raptors forward towards the breach Elites with Ewebs were spraying blindly out towards targets that existed only in their panicked minds.

@Guy of Z



While the machnications of two rivals for Galactic supremacy played out and the actions of an upjumped child soldier and his telepathic rodents played out, it had seemed to Rua Skirata that the rest of the world didn't give hide nor hair to what was transpiring. The lush world, its stormy night and otherwise eerie calm highlighted what the Mandalorian thought was would make this planet excellent for game. "Too bad" he muttered, taking a long drag of some carcinogen laced stick. As he exhaled a breath of smoke, two of the raptors looked his way, behind their crimson masks they shifted nervously. Zsinj seldom sent his right hand out on mere raids anymore, not since Dathomir, not since. One swallowed, it was almost audible and Rua chuckled as he tossed his "cig" into the rain and slid the sleak, rebreather he used instead of the traditional Mandalorian combat helm over his cheeks and mouth. "Ask your question Epps" Rua liked to know the surnames of as many of the Raptors as possible, both because Zsinj considered a personal touch important and because it meant they obeyed him not simply because the Emperor instructed them too. But because they held an element of trust in their Emperors right hand man. "Well, are you here because of the terrorist attack on..on that"

Rua laughed, it was a good question, Zsinj was furious, not so much for the horrific ways those poor sods died but because of the fact that Tyber Zann thought he could run a drug ring in Empire turf without his leave. Only the Hutts Zsinj allowed to take refuge within his borders could run major organized rackets and only because they cut Zsinj and Rua in. Hutts, Rua still wasn't sure how Zann managed to conquer hutt space and the outerrim when The Republic, Jedi, Sith and even the Mandalorians gave up doing so after each wasted millennia of time and countless billions of lives in the attempts. Filing that inquiry in the back of his mind Rua eyed the man "You mean to ask, am I here because there's a force user inside?"

The Raptor nodded and Rua grinned "If it's just the adept, your boys can handle him easily enough. But I want you to leave him to me"

"If it's just the adept?"

Rua's eyes flashed a malevolent gleam as the silence was abruptly strangled by a violent roar as the main doors of the pyramidal vault tore off, vaporizing in a column of fire that roared into the air streaking upwards for hundreds of meters, tossing durasteel and plasteel debris everywhere. Rua blinked "Those weren't my bombs"

"since when do we go in through the front?" Another series of explosions went off across the complex, nixing power generators and defensive systems "ahh that's more like it" -So someone else is here- whoever that someone was, it wasn't this Sereno noble turned Jedi Master, turned eccentric art collector. The man Zsinj had described was far too clever to run in through the front.

In the pandemonium their Raptors closer to the base began to engage the enemy and crimson and green blaster fire lit up the night. "Alright, while our guys fight through the sides, lets make use of the entrance we were just gifted!"

"uhh but what do we do about whoever made that entrance?"

Rua shrugged "Detain 'em for questioning, if its too much of a fight just toss a tag on 'em and let 'em run, we'll hunt 'em down later. We're here for the schematics boys and the starcharts, the rest is immaterial so don't waste your lives trying to gran poodu Emperor Zsinj doesn't need!"

They nodded and let out a combined "howwaah!" and began to charge forward, Rua allowed the men to rush down the sloping ground a few hundred meters before he activated the AG tech on his boots and jumped into the air. Tossing a few small plastiglass viles ahead at several of what looked like black clad regular army -Kriff...Elite...what the Kriff was in here?-

Ja'Karr, you clever bastard...break'n in here without anyone noticing?

The men lit up in flames as Rua led the Raptors forward towards the breach Elites with Ewebs were spraying blindly out towards targets that existed only in their panicked minds.

@TheWatchDog

“Emperors Black bones! What the kriff did those Commandos have on them I only left on a few charges...oh well it's still a good distraction.”

(My ears!)

“Oh yeah...oops.”

(You better take me to those vents!)

“Fiiine”

Earhen began to trail the Raptors...their leader had a Mandalorian accent.

Great more complications first Mommas boy’s army now a Mando meathead merc leading them.

Earhen shared his mother's people’s low opinion of Mandalorians, he had run ins with the Mandalorian Protectors under Takel’s request and immediately understood why his ex Sun Guard instructors spat at their mention. There was little grace and an over reliance on gadgets, and the damn jetpacks. Why strap on a bunch of Gas to your back and hope a dude won’t hit you? It confounded Earhen as he fought them because Takel was too paranoid to trust anyone else but him and Vader after Suprema died.

Earhen understood why the Windborn did it but they naturally evolved flight, the Mandos were just a culture of adrenaline junkies. Additionally their heavy weapons fetish was so overcompensatory, the Sun Guard at least had a typical Echani grace to their combat despite all the weight they added to themselves but Mandos used their weapons like clubs, fitting as they were essentially a continuation of a cave dwelling culture driven off of Imperial Center eons ago

The former Assassin began his quest following after the task force that breached the door as the Raptors looked in the opposite direction for him. As he surveyed the bodies there seemed to be Shadow Stormtroopers about, Blackhole’s personal taskforce the Intelligence Director often delegated tasks to Stormtroopers with Advanced cloaking tech. Unlike most imperials he cared little for the typical Human High culture ideals familiar to those of the core worlds Hrakian and Human recruits were viable recruits for the recluse’s ends.

Whatever was stored here it had to be important if it had that freak shows interest.

Earhen kept avoiding the Red Armored troopers and their Black clad adversaries, occasionally picking off the unfortunate dumb enough to come his way eventually he realized he was dealing with a labrtyh.

The Damned Emperor and his love of deathtraps and mazes...

Earhen was hoping the keycard he took at least worked for the inside...if not he hoped it could open a door to take him to someone who could open it…he couldn't risk a cave in sadly and just blow the doors.

Earhen advanced into the unknown as blastire fire rang in the caverns, he had to get the things before the fight caused a cave in...thankfully he found his target easily. It was a black suited Imperial officer non Commando, Earhen smiled wickedly at how the moon of his mothers world favored him.





After messily ending the Officers career Earhen proceeded to find the main cavern for the storehouse, or at least it seemed to be? He sure as hell couldn't tell but the officer was at least a hint of something in the right direction?

“Hey you got any clue we are in the right direction?” Earhen whispered to the Telerabbit.

“Yes we are but it's not exactly something you want to go to…”

“Why?”

( I hear someone's thoughts...their planning an ambush)

“I guess I have to use it don’t I.” Earhen sighed, he hated using disruptors. They were too much of an Auto win for him...but not against force users at least kriff them they get enough wins already; But he still hated resorting to disintegrations the act had no grace.

“Oh well” he said as he advanced to the entrance blaster in hand on the disintegration setting.

“Emperors Black bones! What the kriff did those Commandos have on them I only left on a few charges...oh well it's still a good distraction.”

(My ears!)

“Oh yeah...oops.”

(You better take me to those vents!)

“Fiiine”

Earhen began to trail the Raptors...their leader had a Mandalorian accent.

Great more complications first Mommas boy’s army now a Mando meathead merc leading them.

Earhen shared his mother's people’s low opinion of Mandalorians, he had run ins with the Mandalorian Protectors under Takel’s request and immediately understood why his ex Sun Guard instructors spat at their mention. There was little grace and an over reliance on gadgets, and the damn jetpacks. Why strap on a bunch of Gas to your back and hope a dude won’t hit you? It confounded Earhen as he fought them because Takel was too paranoid to trust anyone else but him and Vader after Suprema died.

Earhen understood why the Windborn did it but they naturally evolved flight, the Mandos were just a culture of adrenaline junkies. Additionally their heavy weapons fetish was so overcompensatory, the Sun Guard at least had a typical Echani grace to their combat despite all the weight they added to themselves but Mandos used their weapons like clubs, fitting as they were essentially a continuation of a cave dwelling culture driven off of Imperial Center eons ago

The former Assassin began his quest following after the task force that breached the door as the Raptors looked in the opposite direction for him. As he surveyed the bodies there seemed to be Shadow Stormtroopers about, Blackhole’s personal taskforce the Intelligence Director often delegated tasks to Stormtroopers with Advanced cloaking tech. Unlike most imperials he cared little for the typical Human High culture ideals familiar to those of the core worlds Hrakian and Human recruits were viable recruits for the recluse’s ends.

Whatever was stored here it had to be important if it had that freak shows interest.

Earhen kept avoiding the Red Armored troopers and their Black clad adversaries, occasionally picking off the unfortunate dumb enough to come his way eventually he realized he was dealing with a labrtyh.

The Damned Emperor and his love of deathtraps and mazes...

Earhen was hoping the keycard he took at least worked for the inside...if not he hoped it could open a door to take him to someone who could open it…he couldn't risk a cave in sadly and just blow the doors.

Earhen advanced into the unknown as blastire fire rang in the caverns, he had to get the things before the fight caused a cave in...thankfully he found his target easily. It was a black suited Imperial officer non Commando, Earhen smiled wickedly at how the moon of his mothers world favored him.

"Palpatine's bones! What a kriffing fight!" the voice accompanied psychotic laughter that cut above the blaster fire and discharges from personal beam weaponry not seen deployed in battle since the clone wars decades prior. beside him pressed against the immense pillar was a Raptor who'd had her helmet blown off her head, blood trickled down from a cut above her eyebrow and another further above her scalp but apart from that she had the same devilish grin on her face as the Mando who commanded them. Around them blaster bolts lanced into ornately carved cielings, causing a shimmering rain of precious gems and gilded metal from the rafters. Rua smiled, other troopers from other other potentates would have scattered, picking up as much of the treasure as possible (and dooming themselves in the process, for grave robbing from a Sith wizards vaults was deadly) but not the Raptors, Zsinj elite guard, his storm troopers, the scarlet warriors commanded by the new Emperor and trained and led by the next Mandalore. Zsinj's attack dog began to tap his feet and several of the raptors turned to look and they began to nod only to redouble their assault with even greater fury. Rua's tapping accompanied a hum which broke into a song, an ancient Mandalorian war poem.

"my mother told me...Someday I would buy, vessel with strong engines..fly to distant worlds. My clan I'll command, from a battle bridge" He whirred, stepping into the chaos and drawing one of his pistols a swift blast in the throat below the helmet took the head off one of the guards. "Take orbit storm, slay many foes, raze man worlds, raze many worlds"

Seeing their commander in the line of fine sent the raptors into a how of insanity and they roared forward almost saturating the entire room with blaster fire. A few concussive missiles roared overhead and soon, the defenders of the "gate" lay in heaps on the floor, blood and brain matter mixed with the stench of charred plasteel and the acrid stench of age, of dust, of must of the Sith.

"Area secured eh boys?" There was a laugh while a call came on the comm informing him of stiff resistance by something unknown deep in the catacombs. "Ah good, our force user retreated with the rest of the trash" he remarked turning to the woman "You there, you've command of the upper levels, inform Captain Pryde that I'll be heading deeper into this crypt"

"What if its our other party?"

Rua shrugged "I don't really care, whatever moron was dumb enough to blow a hole in the front door is not the guy I'm after and if he wants to help himself to the diseased poodu in this crypt he's welcome to take the liability onto his own damn shoulders. I need answers, so I'll go below"

After messily ending the Officers career Earhen proceeded to find the main cavern for the storehouse, or at least it seemed to be? He sure as hell couldn't tell but the officer was at least a hint of something in the right direction?

“Hey you got any clue we are in the right direction?” Earhen whispered to the Telerabbit.

“Yes we are but it's not exactly something you want to go to…”

“Why?”

( I hear someone's thoughts...their planning an ambush)

“I guess I have to use it don’t I.” Earhen sighed, he hated using disruptors. They were too much of an Auto win for him...but not against force users at least kriff them they get enough wins already; But he still hated resorting to disintegrations the act had no grace.

“Oh well” he said as he advanced to the entrance blaster in hand on the disintegration setting.

Eislen of Eriadu had a good life, he'd been born in the final days of the clone wars and raised by devotees of The Emperor and his glorious ten thousand year plan. Raised in the dark, unlike those inquisitor scum who'd been mostly Jedi dropouts or disgraced former Knights. Eislen had been raised to be Sith, trained in secret by the Emperor's most devout themselves and even fought beside Lord Vader twice! Twice! Glory lay ahead of him and he hadn't even flinched when their eternal Emperor fell over Endor, nor did he renounce his ways to side with that blind Inquisitor Jerec and the megalomaniac that was Ardous Kaine. No, he remained faithful, remained strong, served as Sate Pestage's loyal bodyguard. He'd even been able to gain access to some of the glorious Sith relics concealed on Coruscant! He'd been learning, he'd been growing stronger! Perhaps, perhaps he would have been ready to take over the Empire, restore it to its former majesty even! It was all perfect.

But perfection, was always an illusion.

He sat now in the dark, resting on immense granite steps flanking an enormous durasteel door, finely polished that contained on either side two gargoyle like statues of some ancient Sith Hounds, braziers in their snarling, open mouths burned empowered by ancient sorcery. This tomb, was older than any other and the Adept clad all in black but for a crimson cloak, snarled in the dimmed light. His hair was wild and disheveled as he was embittered. Some damn fool Inquisitor found a ship adrift in deep space and sensing the fire, the pulse of radiant life dormant within rescued it. They'd thought it was one of their own, fools! As if they could produce power of that sort! No, that was power that belonged to something else entirely, he could feel it, sense its disgust, its contempt and when he realized what she truly was.

She'd killed most of the inquisitors and dismissed him, her imperiousness was such that the Grand Vizier didn't even think twice and merely obeyed and he, he was too terrified of her power to strike at her. No, he accepted this demotion when he realized she was sending him out here to replace two guards who'd died mysteriously. Two adepts slain? By something within no doubt! The opportunity to test himself and grow stronger, to learn from the dark secrets within.

But the murderer had already departed. A Jedi of some sort, he'd stolen some items but all the other vaults remained barred. He'd been denied!

A presence began to touch his mind and he realized it was one of those accursed rodents and he let out a psychic hiss and drew his lightsaber. As the battle raged on above, he let out a capricious laugh. "I know of only one sentient who'd stoop so low as to use those..things..COME OUT VADER'S DOG!"

A crimson lightsaber ignited and he sneered at Earhen once the boy came into view.

"I thought you'd have died by now.." He stepped forward and then he stopped as an odd, almost savage humming echoed through the cavernous catacomb walls.

Sparks flew as durasteel yielded to..a Knife in the dark?

"My mootthheerr..tolld me...Someday I would buy...Vessel with strong engines, fly to distant worldss"

Eislin twitched at the Mandalorian war poem. "You're working with Rua kriffing Skirata now dog? That's how far you've fallen?" he spat.

"Nah, Eis, kid aint with me"

Eislin turned his head, his eyes narrowing. "So it's a three way fight then?!"

Rua turned eying Earhen "Kid, we got a problem? Or can I trust you to piss off and take whatever stupid Sith poodu you before kriffing off and leaving my men alone?" his voice held an edge of amusement, he'd no idea who this kid was nor did he really care. "my beef's with this one and one other and neither of them are you"

"I'll kill you both" the Adept hissed.

"Yeah, yeah Eis, listen up. Before I cut your kriffing thoat I've got one question for you" Rua asked, his eyes flickering with contempt. "That crazy cunt who demoted you to chief grave digger...Is she really who she says she is?"

Eislin could contain his rage no longer and with a roar tore towards Earhen.

Yavin IV



The force is strong in this place. I felt it in the air, back when Han and I were new to the rebellion.

I felt in the soil, rich, vibrant



And in the temple water gardens.

Rich, ancient and Dark and yet.

Jedi

That had been the mystery that occupied the focus of Luke Skywalker on most days that was he was off world. Why something so alien, something with history rooted in Sith doctrine (Or so the history holos he was viewing and the relics told him), could "feel" as though it had been built by distant kin. There was a presence in Yavin, it permeated everything, it enriched the land, gave the trees and lakes and seas a vibrancy but it was long dormant and not entirely beneficent. An ancient Jedi renegade turned Sith Lord had once ruled the planet, at times Luke could have sworn he saw glimpses of his shadow, his spirit but it wasn't as bright and obvious as Master Yoda's or Master Jin or Master Kenobi who sought him out from time to time and counseled him. -I could use some of their wisdom now- Luke thought, a gloved hand reaching out to some some sandy blond hair from his eyes. In the Months since Endor, he found himself a beacon in the force and many Jedi who'd hidden from the purge, or their students had come to him. It had been a comfort, Luke was born on one of the most wild, uncivilized and impoverished planets in the outer rim. He hadn't the first clue about the rich history of the Jedi Order, only in fables and stories and Imperial propaganda (which wasn't trustworthy, though sometimes held a grain of truth. It was a blessing, of his bakers dozen "The thirteen" as the Rebels were calling his Jedi Luke was probably the most ignorant of what came before and yet unencumbered by tradition he had the most clarity of vision. It also helped Yoda had anointed him as his chosen successor and none of the precious few surviving Jedi that made up his thirteen dared to question Yoda's judgment. It seemed when the two foot titan made a decree it was almost a religious proclamation and it both humbled and disturbed Luke at the same time.

Whatever came to pass, he needed to make sure the Jedi of his order respected him, but didn't revere him.

An hour ago he'd returned from a trip to Dantooine, where he'd meditated amongst the ruins of an ancient Jedi temple discovered there. He'd basked in the echoes of the past, communed with the shades of things that had been, the echo of masters whose powers made Yoda's look like his own when he'd first come to that little swamp. A sith had touched there too, a power totally alien and distinct to Palpatine's and something else, he could see a visage, a crone who was born old, whose spirit enmeshed itself in the force and yet cursed its existence therein, longing for oblivion, cursing the energies that had ensnared her to the last. She was Jedi and Sith and neither, her cynicism had radiated off the walls, her contempt reminding him of the dismal look in the eyes of Hutt slaves back home. He shuddered at the memory of that Luke and wondered how anyone could view the force as malevolent chains?

He'd gone to Dantooine after a friend in the archaeology service tipped him off about the temple being excavated. He'd traveled there seeking knowledge,a pathway to channeling the force in new ways by touching upon the ancient. Answers to questions he'd held in his mind since the demise of Palpatine and his father's redemption. Only to find he had more questions and try as he might, the netherworld of the force was closed to him, shutting itself, barring the way days ago.

He'd felt it, two immense powers in the force, one who had been smaller mere months ago but rose like a dark cloud spreading about the world's now ruled by the Pentastar alignment. The other? Rose from Coruscant, Luke couldn't quite understand it, or perceive it, but he could "feel" everything transpiring around it. Darksiders were dying by the dozens or submitting to a fashion of light he'd never encountered before.

Something else sleeping..stirred, but to him it seemed rather like a receptacle than a living being.

There was another, presence out there, not as violent or bright as the other, but no less concealed from his senses. The force was changing, growing, or perhaps waking up after several generations of being held in bondage by the dark. Which brought him to the majority of his new students, those who were just learning that they possessed force sensitivity. Those often came scared, confused and at times angry. But they learned, they healed, they responded better, their vigor and desire to learn was always a spot of hope in what became frustrating days at times. The frustration at times led to incredibly dumb decisions, decisions that cost him a potential apprentice and likely alienated the only other Jedi Master in the Galaxy and certainly the only one in hi nascent "order". Kale, Luke thought, he could sense his approach, sense his consternation. -I should have told them, I listened to the Alliance council and it hurt my students- Force, he thought, how did Yoda ever manage to hold a Jedi Order together for nearly a thousand years while navigating the treacherous seas of politics.

"You're doing it again" The voice, which barely concealed a snicker came from a Redhead with the most vibrant pair of green eyes he'd ever seen. At her waist rested a curved hilted Lightsaber, ordinarily she still wore the black trappings of her old life but she'd taken to wearing a blue cloak over them and was slowly assimilating into the Jedi Order. "It? What?" Luke asked, it was odd how the one person in the temple who had relentlessly pursued him and nearly killed him in a saber duel mere days after Endor had become his most trusted confidant and yet, it felt oddly natural..She was his opposite in many ways, cool, professional, ruthless and yet held together by a strong sense of honor. He was..He was

Wait, why was he looking down at her if he was seated in meditation? Oh...Luke thought, he was doing that again. Levitating, he wasn't even sure how he did it and he certainly couldn't do it out of the temple and he wasn't exactly sure he wanted too. Luke's mind slipped, and soon he found himself tumbling from the air and landing on his backside as the braziers that stood vigil in each corner of the meditation chamber flickered, casting a ghoulish pal over the murals painted onto the walls. Murals filled with ancient depictions of battles and a Dark Lord rising from the shadows, perhaps the ancient Sith?

Mara laughed "Grand Master of the Order, our light in the dark, our last best hope! On his ass, again"

"Yeah, well, its like I can, be anywhere at once when I'm in here, there's something about the rocks in these chambers. Something about the temples overall presence is enhanced here" He muttered, gratefully accepting her hand and rising to his feet. "And I get lost in the focusing..I guess"

"Amplification Alchemy, Sidious had a chamber not unlike this one. It's why I don't use 'em and mediate by the ziggurat in the water gardens" Well that, she thought and it was prettier out there, closer to the planet's wildlife. "is it dangerous?" he asked her, brushing himself off and bumping hands with the former Darksider's own which was dusting off his side, both paused a second, twinged a darker shade and then Mara saved them both from more awkwardness as she picked up the conversation. "They can be, they can focus your awareness but when you start to look outward, you are almost like an open comm line." "Someone or something might be listening?" "You might be letting something in" she warned with eyes that flickered with a sort of odd mix of pain and certainty. "Speaking from experience"

She nodded slowly "I tried to know your father's mind once when I was younger, dumber."

Luke didn't press the issue only nodded in thanks and began to head towards the door only to stop when he realized she'd grabbed his wrist. "Master Kale is looking for you, shall I send him in?" She asked with a predatory grin that led him to believe if she played attendant for him without a sparring session or a lunch to compensate her, the man would pay for it down the line, somehow. "Yes, thank you Knight Jade." the two exchanged an impish smile "Lunch?"

"Nah, we need to get your blade form up to snuff "Master" Skywalker!" bowing in over dramatic curtsey she pirouetted and then ducked through the open doors in search of the man Luke Skywalker owed an apology too.

"first mistake, won't be the last, but I can learn from them at least"