A Storm is Coming

Atra

16-05-2012 09:26:27

[[With the lull before the next runon, there are those amongst us who may become restless, in need of activity outside of the traditional competitions. Join me if you are up to it.]]

Recreation District
Kel Rasha, Aeotheran Equator


The city was quiet, unlike its counterpart within Marka Ragnos. The riots that launched against Shar Dakhan's sister House had not yet touched upon its citizens, and the recent elimination of terrorist forces had helped to quell that. Their existence seemed so fragile, like crystal on display in the middle of a firefight. They never knew the danger outside their gates, blissfully shrouded in the ignorance of the unknown.

What, then, do you do? When your shroud is torn away? When the unknown becomes known and fear grips your being? In the end, are we naught but our most base instincts? Does the decision come down to the mere choice between Fight or Flight?

The Quaestor of Shar Dakhan stood solemnly in the darkness of the alleyway he had chosen, his large frame wrapped in the robs of his cloak as he leaned against the wall. His eyes flicked between the moving shapes of the passerby's. Everything was calm, almost tranquil, so why did he feel such a sense of dread? He had accomplished that which had consumed him since his release, since freedom held him one more in its warm embrace. He had come face to face with the architect of his suffering, and showed that he had the strength of will to challenge him. Atra's eyes flashed dangerously at the thought, a grimace forming on his face.

Was the Mad Alchemist in control of his own fate? It was a question that had plagued him since he had broadened the scope of his focus. He had absorbed so much knowledge and was still sorting through it. His mind drifted to the Sons, then to the appearance and subsequent disappearance of the Grand Master himself. Who in this world had true freedom, when there would always be a bigger metaphorical fish?

Atra's fist clenched tightly, flashes of crimson dripping to the street as his nails dug into his flesh. The pain brought clarity as it triggered adrenaline to spike through his system. His features relaxed as he stepped into the sunlight. The shroud of his hood afforded him some shade, weakening the blinding transition as his pupils adjusted. Pulling it back he let the warmth of the sun fill him, smiling faintly. Unlike his Consul, Atra had opted to remain an anonymous entity to the general public. He wasn't one for business, leaving that to the existing board. He would be the hand in the darkness, guiding Dlarit-Dakhani as needed.

The Quaestor's thoughts drifted once more, thinking of the events that had transpired whilst he was away with Mirado. Tsainetomo... He had sacrificed everything for the Clan he loved but in return had gained a certain measure of freedom. Are you only truly free when you answer only to yourself?

These were dangerous thoughts, and ones that couldn't be avoided as he fought to make sense of his new existence. What had become of the Corellian? Had he died somewhere on the operating table, being replaced by something else, something only Macron knew? Atra felt a shell, a fractured being and hopelessly lost.

Sai

17-05-2012 11:00:34

Inos 42
Curwen Sunei’s Tomb


Tsainetomo watched silently as the Apostates exited the cavern on slightly unsteady legs. The rite took its toll on all involved, and Sai guessed that the risk for Xanos, Trevarus and Sildrin must have been worth it if they’d gone through the trouble of helping him.

As if learning his body for the first time - and, after his beyond death experience, he supposed that he was - Sai slowly and methodically walked to the worn workbench, his echoing footfalls his only company. Malisane and Macron had gone, presumably, back to the Nachzerer, and the short conversation he’d had with the Alchemist prior to the ritual was the only hint he’d given as to what was about to happen.

’I’ve looked at it from all angles, Mononoke, and I keep coming back to this.’ Though it was only minutes ago, Sai felt as if the exchange happened lifetimes ago.

Well, a lifetime certainly had passed.

’Tsainetomo, I can’t tell you what to do; just be careful you don’t trade one set of chains for another.’ Macron’s eyes stole upwards, hinting at his own Faustian exchange he’d made.

“Well, what’s done, is Done.” Sai said to no one in particular, his mind snapping back to the present. He had other things to think about.

The ritual, for one.

It had worked. Despite his initial misgivings about trusting the Apostates. Despite their previous deceptions and schemes that spanned decades, they’d kept their word. They’d freed him.

’No,’ an inner voice minded him, sounding not unlike a dragon’s roar. ’They helped you free yourself. Your destiny is your own.’ Sai stretched his awareness into the ether, searching for his erstwhile Brethren. He felt their Force signatures clearly enough, but they’d lacked their previous...specificity. Inhaling deeply, Sai knew that when the time came, and Trevarus called him to account, he’d have to answer accordingly.

Honor demanded it be so.

Shelving the previous thoughts, Sai went to his satchel once again, taking out other metallic and electronic components that were separate from the portable console they’d been consulting earlier. As he worked, he set his mind on his task at hand - building a new weapon to complement the Warrior, Reborn.

Sai sat on the stony, snow-covered floor of the cavern, his legs folded in the lotus position. He shook out his arms to relax them, cracked his neck, then focused his mind while lidding his eyes. This was a ritual he’d done only once before - the Herald had graciously constructed all of his other lightsabers for him - but his spirit alone would do for this weapon. After all, his previous encounters with the Dakhani assassin Mirado and their Quaestor, Atra had set the stage for things to come to a head - but he had to trust in their taking the right path. He’d handed them answers in the form of the DAC Orenth on an electrum platter; still, he had to be sure he’d taken every precaution to ensure his own survival in the months to come.

The construction of this lightsaber was the penultimate step.

His breathing was regular, smooth. His thoughts were as water tumbling over a great falls, flooded with imagery taken from Kyataran and Cerean swordsmithing rites. The Dark Side filled both the cavern and his body.

The Keibatsu expanded his awareness, and the components arranged upon the table floated with surety into the chilled air. They began to swirl about his seated form, traveling in opposing oblate counter-clockwise orbits; slowly at first, then faster as Sai drew upon more of the Force.

When the orbits of the components had become so fast so as to resemble solid rings with Sai seated serenely at their center, the Son of Sadow focused his will into a slender column that punched itself directly into the adgean vein high above him. The cavern itself seemed to shudder in response, but Sai only poured more of his power into the column.

An ear-splitting crack echoed within the cave. Still, Sai remained strong. Small pebbles began to shake themselves loose from fissures all about the cave, and Sai was nonplussed. His resolve hardened into durasteel as he sent a final pulse through his telekinetic column.

A shard of the vein sheared away from the main line, a half of a finger’s length and spinning clockwise, opposing his lightsaber components’ orbits. It floated slowly, deliberately, down towards the cavern floor, and came to rest in mid-air before Sai’s serene face.

The Keibatsu’s lids flew open, as storm shutters before a sudden gale, and his tripartite gaze locked on the crystal, but he saw it not with his regular vision but through the Force. The tiniest of imperfections revealed itself to him in the form of a jagged crack at the center of the shard, but it was fully encased by the rest of the adgean. He knew that the resultant blade it would produce would burn hotly, but its appearance would be unstable.

The crystal began to spin faster now, Sai having accepted the Dark Side’s providence in selecting such a gem for his weapon. The orbiting components flung themselves from their places and fitted themselves together in front of him, guided by an unseen hand.

Finally, the casing slid shut around the adgean, and Tsainetomo’s weapon was completed. He stood, snatching the hilt as it floated in midair and felt within for the activation stud with his ethereal senses. The coppery blade sprung from his fist for the first time within the cave, the screech and growl of it sounding once again like the utterances born of a dragon’s throat. The plasmic energies, though contained in their self-sustaining loop, fluctuated wildly, making the blade appear as if it were afire.

The smile that crept its way across the Korun-Keibatsu’s face was both warm and cold simultaneously as he christened the instrument that would sweep the hypocrisy from the face of his - his - Clan:

“Nenshogeru.”

Macron Sadow

18-05-2012 00:52:11

Usharak Keep
Kangaras
Unknown Regions

Outside, the wind screamed as a tropical storm howled at the ancient black stones of the Keep. On this night even the monsters that roamed the lands nearby kept shelter. Inside the Keep, a small contingent of Mandalorian mercenaries kept watch. Drums pounded by the Sithspawn Ewoks faintly echoed against the splitting cracks of lightning and thunder nearby.

“Darth-forsaken wastehole planet,” growled Macron as he looked out at the blistering reddish-yellow gouts of lightning from the battlements. The strokes never seemed to come close to the Keep… but always blasted a certain site some twenty kilometers away where ancient ruins slept. “Again and again… the lightning comes to the place of ending. Eternal… a sibilant hunger that cannot be satisfied.” The alchemists’ mind casted itself rudely towards his Sith Master. “Like- Him.”

“You worry too much.” Malisane gazed as well at the native light show. “Nobody cares about this old place. Since it was abandoned after the Severak incident.” Images flitted briefly about his collected consciousness. His creator’s genes and lineage were something to be pondered indeed. Malisane was a man of careful thought and considered action. His was the silvered tongue of whispered advice- one that many Sith of old had wielded. The man’s mind moved in unconventional ways. And his saber arm was steel. It would soon come down upon the side of Fate that served him best.

“And here we are again my old friend.” Macron smiled as a blast of ruddy lightning lit his face. “Bereft of Faith for the first time. So many years. For the Clan. Always for the Clan I have served and killed so many. And now questioning our loyalty with a forceful takeover- well. I have many questions. What did I get for it? Work- and then nothing.” The light reflected off his red hued battle armor in flashing chiaroscuro. “Again.” His twisted mind had a rare moment of clarity. Tsainetomo was his only real ally. In the bond of blood and duty, and then later that of personal combat had they seen eye to eye. Or tripartite eyes, so to speak. The Korun had a tasted the whirlwind of understanding that blew around them all and digested it fully. In the unification of the dance of death they were brothers.

“You were the one forcibly deposed, Consul Emeritus,” commented Malisane dryly as the storm seemed to move off to the east. “As it were.” The former Navy officer seldom lost his cool in any situation. It was part of the training, both then and now. Always have a plan. “And so we will complete these missions?” A last dull boom of thunder seemed to punctuate his words. The Sith was quietly busy plotting and writing things on his red holodisplay. “I have the Spawn Ewok numbers here. And the droids.”

The Alchemist’s fists clenched involuntarily. “Yes. I was.” His eyes flashed yellow as his mouth clenched. “I will repay them in brutal suffering what they owe. Every last one.” His hand snaked to his belt involuntarily. The Sword of Shar Dakhan still lived at his hip next to the lightsaber hilts hanging from clips.

The Sword currently in the Vaults was a fake. It had not left his possession since he had become Consul before the deposal. Ever since he had killed Curwen Sunei with it, the Sword lived in his consciousness. It had some portion of his soul and he would hunger ever after it like a drug. “The Evil Ones are coming.” Macron smiled quietly. “Ones the Clan cannot foresee. Astronicus has forsaken Us with his silence. Forsaken- me. I worked so hard… and for nothing. The War Droids and Mutants will be ready soon. The Verpine ambassadors and technicians have already begun their work.”

Roxas

19-05-2012 12:31:52

A couple hours after the transmission with Jeric
The long ends of a black bandana, tied around the experiment’s head, whip wildly in the wind. His red eyes fixed on a distant point of the horizon, toward the setting sun. The distinct clack of combat boots closed in on the Mandalorian.
“Colonel, the last of the rioters has been taken into custody. And the city is once again calm.” The trooper said as he made some notes on his data pad to keep up with the day’s events, so he could report easier.
“Good. With the things I’ve seen recently I doubt that Cyrin is still in charge around here, so report to whoever you wish. I’ll be busy if anyone needs me, but I can be reached on my emergency channel.” The Templar replied, turning to head for what has become the only place he can call his own, The Crossroads.
“I understand Sir…” a small group of civilians had approached some of the troopers and began praising Roxas, for all that he has done for them, including the events of the ekind invasion “..It seems that you’ve become a hero to the people, Sir.”
Roxas stopped to speak, but never turned to face the trooper “I don’t know what that word means…” his voice full of confusion “…hero… there is no word for it among my people.” With that the Mandalorian continued to walk without giving the trooper time to reply.

The Crossroads, a short while later
Roxas unlocked the door and security system. He entered and was pounced on.
“It took you long enough. You shouldn’t keep a lady waiting!” Pacifica said jokingly then changed to a flirty tone “So…what’s next for the big hero?”
Again he was confused “what does hero mean? That’s the second time I’ve heard that today.”
She started laughing.
“What’s funny? I don’t get it?”
“Oh, come on. You’re kidding right?”
“No, I really don’t know what it means.”
She was really confused “Wow, that’s kinda weird.”
He crossed his arms pretending to be stubborn “Well there is no word for it in my language. In fact no one has ever even explained the concept to me.”
She was extremely surprised, but explained it to him and it took longer than she would have expected.
“I don’t see the point of…I don’t think that I’m going to get it…Oh, so…..I think I get it…You know, it seems kinda dumb really.”
“Well, let me show you what the hero gets in the end.” She said as she grabbed his hand and walked him to the apartment back room of the bar.

The next day
The Obelisk was sound asleep, but his mind was racing with a particular dream. Light sabers clashed, the Force swirled, and treason was the reason. The recent events still fresh on his mind, flashed in his dream. “He made you tougher, and he made you faster. Pity he didn’t make you smarter Roxas.” His Miralukan comrade decided to point out after using his sadistic teras kasi. The Experiment mumbled in his sleep “smart ass,” before he began to stir.
Roxas awoke to the sun shining in his face. He went to move, but there was a wait on him that he wasn’t used to. He looked down to see Pacifica sound asleep on his side with her face against his chest. Good she’s still here he thought
She stretched as she woke and he blue eyes opened to meet his.
“Morning” she said her voice softer than silk.
“Morning” he replied “hungry?”
She nodded before yawning.
“Well I’m out of food, so how about we go out to eat?”
“I would love too, but I have to go see my parents today.” She replied with a slightly disappointed tone “How about a rain check?”
“Sounds good…” he reached to his bedside table and grabbed a pen and a notepad “Here is my comm number, so you can contact me whenever you want.”
She smiled as he handed her the paper, then crawled out of the bed revealing her ample curves, before walking to the refresher to shower and get dressed, he followed.
“Gonna watch?” She asked astonished that he was right behind her.
He smiled and stepped close to her while he spoke in a seductive tone “I was hoping to join you, maybe wash your back.”

A couple hours later
The two emerge from the refresher dressed and ready to leave. They walk out of The Crossroads and kiss before going their separate ways. He had something he has wanted to do for a while, but has been too busy to do. He headed for the forest outside of the Ragnos Cathedral and when he got there he would train in the wilderness until he had made some serious improvement to his combat techniques.

Xanos

19-05-2012 12:32:38

Inside the Sanguinus
The Oracle’s study


Pawn takes Knight.

One of the small black figurines on the chessboard in the corner of the study moved on its own accord, neither Xanos nor his Master having touched it. The border around the square the pawn moved to briefly glowed, and the white knight that had previously occupied the square crumbled to ash.

“Just one more move," Trevarus said, his eyes remaining fixed on the swirl of hyperspace outside.

In the middle of the room, a small circular table was all that separated the two Elders seats. Trevarus lowered his cigar and tapped it on the edge of a delicately crafted ash tray that was on the table next to Xanos’s now-empty crystal snifter. A hairline crack ran up the side of the glass, where the Falleen had accidentally broken it following one of his body’s involuntary ticks.

As if on cue, the Dark Prophet’s hand muscles tensed again, gripping his seat’s armrest like a vice.

“You place a lot of faith in your new queen, my Master,” Xanos said. The sound was more telepathic than vocal, seeming as if to come from both nowhere and everywhere at the same time.

Trevarus lifted his own snifter just under the hook of his nose and smiled as he breathed in the rich aroma of Jateethan winterberries. “The blind one plays her part well.” The Oracle took a small sip from his brandy. “She will accomplish the task she believes she was set.”

“And if the K’hamar’an scripture is wrong...” The Falleen left the sentence unfinished.

"The Orbs will show us the way.”

In the corner of the study, another piece silently moved across the chessboard.

Operational Command Center

Static was all that greeted Eosara after he keyed the frequency Macron had provided. The head of the Obsidian Cohort drummed his fingers and his desk as brown noise buzzed from the speakers on his console’s vidscreen while he continued to wait for the signal to connect. Ten seconds passed... twenty...

Another hiss of static shot through the speakers and the image finally resolved itself into an alien face. And not just any sort of alien; a bug. An anthropomorphic insect in fact.

Verpine.

The mandibles under what passed for the creature’s ‘mouth’ clacked together in presumably some kind of native greeting. Eosara shook his head, not even bothering to hide his resentment at having to work with a talking ant. It was worse than dealing with Trev’s pet lizard. “Ssrash,” Eosara said.

He probably pronounced the alien’s name wrong. He didn’t care.
In fact, he’d done his best to make sure he had said he wrong.

If the Verpine noticed, it didn’t give any sign. “The channel is secure, Commander Goratis,” Ssrash replied, “we can speak freely.”

Secure? Of course it was karking secure. This was the Sanguinus. Eosara made a sharp sigh, but was not in the mood to point out the obvious to the humanoid bug. “I trust everything is ready for the operation,” Eosara said, keeping his voice even, however much he felt like putting his fist through the vidscreen to shut the Verpine up. “If you can’t pull off what Macron said...”

The hot-headed Sith had promised his contacts in the Verpine technicians employed by Dlarit would be able to deliver the sensor blackout they needed. These days, it was the Verpine who exclusively staffed the main data center in Sadow Palace, which—rather fittingly—had long been known as the Hive...

Eosara wouldn’t have been surprised if Trev said the future irony had been his idea all along.

Not that all the sorcerer’s visions came true... but Eosara liked to humour his employer. The other option was to lose his head. He figured humouring worked better for them both.

On the vidscreen, the Verpine clacked its mandibles loudly. “The necessary worm has already been uploaded!” Ssrash raised his voice—well, it might have been her voice; it was always difficult to tell with insects, and Eosara didn’t particularly care—and the wings behind its head buzzed, making an irritating drone. “If there is going to be a problem, take it up with the source who supplied it!”

“That won’t be an issue,” Eosara replied dryly. The ‘source’ referred to Trev’s latest pet, the samurai who seemed to believe a blade was a better choice than a good blaster.... in a few days, Sergeant Mao’s team would prove the error of that way of thinking. If the worm was bad though, the Force boys who’d taken over Dlarit would be the last of Sai’s worries. “It’ll work.”

Eosara was confident enough. Sildrin had taken a look, and she’d always been good with her hands... he knew from experience.

The man held back a smirk.

“Then hopefully I won’t be speaking to you again,” Ssrash said. “But if there is anything else, Macron has my encryption protocol.” With that, the channel abruptly went dead, replaced by static again.

Eosara raised an eyebrow. This was why he didn’t like aliens.

“And a jolly good day to you, too,” he muttered.

Atra

25-05-2012 10:40:22

Recreation District
Kel Rasha, Aeotheran Equator


What was that incessant beeping?

Atra glanced around momentarily, his thoughts snapping back to reality as a small child tugged at the edge of his cloak.

"Excuse me, sir... Are you a droid?"

The Quaestor's cold grey eyes settled upon the child, taking in her innocent features. A smile threatened to stretch across his features as he processed the absurdity of her statement. Giving her a reassuring ruffle of her hair he leaned down close.

"No, I am most certainly not a droid."

"Then why are you making that noise?"

The innocence was heart breaking in a way. Proof of something good hiding in the darkness that surrounded Atra's life. He reached into the folds of his cloak, pulling out a blinking communicator. His old master, Methyas, had provided it to him before disappearing to who knows where with Kalia.

"It would seem someone wishes to speak with me," Atra spoke with a chuckle.

"Oh... Okay then... Bye now!"

The little girl skipped away, more than likely chasing after her parents. His eyes shifted down to the communicator, thoughts swirling through his mind. So what if he was an experiment? A monster? He was still Human, deep down, and as long as that was there he had hope. The Quaestor silenced the communicator with his thumb, depressing the activator found there.

"Activate encryption protocol; patch through via secure channel."

A series of beeps responded to his verbal command, a few moments passing before the connection formed.

"Atra..." The voice over the communicator was distorted but still recognizable.

"Methyas," Atra didn't bother with his old master's moniker, not out of disrespect but more out of their developed relationship, "what's up?"

The Corellian was ever vigilant, his eyes scanning the shifting crowd as he awaited the transmission to process. At this time of night foot traffic was light, and the quiet was soothing. His large form moved fluidly through what few people filled the streets, the crowd thinning before him as he made his way to the transport facilities.

"We just arrived at the Alabrek Citadel and are going to--" Static overwhelmed the communicator for a few moments before Methyas' voice came out clear once more, "Dakhani Arms, will route directly to your office."

Atra didn't bother to question the parts he had missed, given their connection and conversations before departure the Quaestor had a pretty good idea what was going on. "Sounds good, I'll process the order through the backend channels."

"Understood, we'll be in touch."

With that the communicator clicked off, the conversation over. Atra glanced around as he hopped on a transport heading towards Dakhani Arms. He needed to get things moving on his end, and at the same time he needed to deal with something that had annoyed him ever since his appointment to Quaestor. Reaching into his cloak once more he retrieved the communicator, queuing it into a channel that rarely received use. It took a few moments for the man at the other end to pick up, though the acknowledgement signal took longer than Atra would have liked.

"How may I assist you, sir?"

The voice on the other end of the line came in clear, his speech pattern exceedingly proper and an accent to match.

"Got a special project for you. I need a secure connection to our network, and specifically my terminal, via remote command." The Quaestor thought a minute, glancing at his bracers. "Preferably something that can fit onto my bracer."

"Right away, sir. Anything else?"

"Not at the moment, Jasper, thanks."

The communicator clicked off with finality, Atra's gaze turning to the viewport as the transport flew through the air. It wouldn't take long for him to arrive at the facilities, and then the work would begin.

"No rest for the wicked," he muttered quietly, almost glaring at his reflection.

Methyas

26-05-2012 14:13:39

DSOG TDG-East Facility
Terra Do Gelo, Tarthos


The sirens blared across the facility as the any and all external access locked itself down, the twin suns of the Orian system setting upon the western hemisphere of the planet and bringing the desolate continent of Terra Do Gelo into one of the most inhospitable regions of the planet. One of the external locks opened swiftly allowing a pair of individuals to exit; one in crisp military greens as the other wore a rather distinctive professional garb. A well pressed vest upon long-sleeved shirt and pants, the white silk wrap over the individual's eyes the only part seemingly out of place as he approached one of the waiting personnel. Extending a hand, the officer handed off the man's shikomizu before the pair started deeper into the facility, the Officer at the blind man's side speaking over the dull thud of the cane striking the concrete with each step taken, "I can't believe you dragged me out there into that...tundra!"

"If it was really going to bug you that much, Mactavish, you could have waited here." The blind man retorted serenely, his voice not really holding scolding or arrogant tone to it.

"Until you have a Guardsman, I'd prefer to be at your side, sir. We've already..."

"Relax, John." The blind man interrupted, moving to step in front of the Captain's path as he continued, "An issue like that is unlikely to happen again, things have...changed. Besides, I sense the Clan will need me now more than ever."

John stopped for a moment, looking over his companion for a moment before he spoke up with a resigned sigh, "Of course, m'lord. I didn't mean any offence, but you're not easing my mind any, especially when you're doing your mystical Force stuff."

A smile crossed the blind man's face as he responded, "Then stop complaining John, and please, just use my name when we're not on official business...it hasn't been than long since I was Consul."

The officer shook his head for a moment before he continued, "Sorry, Methyas. I'm used to dealing with other members of your Clan. A fair number of them prefer the titles."

The Miraluka simply chuckled as he withdrew a small fabric satchel from one of the leather pouches at his waist, "Yes, quite often members of our Brotherhood like the elegancy and appreciation that comes with our positions...most of the time."

A wry smile crossed the former Consul's face for a second, just long enough to catch the Captain's notice before he spoke, "Things haven't been all that bad, si...I mean, you're back on the board. That's a good thing isn't it?"

Methyas' silence seemed to fill the room for a moment as the Captain waited for a response, finally speaking swiftly as the Miraluka refused to respond, "I still can't believe we went all the way out there for that little thing..."

Still Methyas didn't respond and Mactavish turned slightly as the pair stopped before a door requiring further clearance, analysing the Miraluka's face as the young man slipped the satchel away and his fingers danced rhythmically across the console, he suspected more from muscle memory than anything; but the man's face seemed devoid of emotion. Finally the door opened and Methyas spoke, "Come on, John. Kalia is expected us at the Citadel."

A chuckle escaped the Officer again as he shook his head and spoke, "Leave now...in this storm? This weather? Our transports might as well..."

He didn't finish his sentence as the transport before the pair was being washed down by a dedicated team working to ensure the hull and engines were devoid of any potential ice build-up as steam radiated from the metallic components, his jaw simply dropped as one of the soldiers turned, "Director! The storm is on approach from the west, we need you to leave now!"

Methyas simply nodded, patting John on the shoulder as he ran for the transport, its engines spinning to life with a roar as the pilot prepared to get the little ship off the hanger floor. Swiftly the team in the hanger dispersed, evacuating the chamber as sirens sounded once more and the roof began to part ways for the little transport's escape. Snow seemed to attack the hanger, surging through the breach as quickly as the doors peeled back and getting caught in the engine's backwash as they lifted the vessel from the floor. In moments the transport was free from the hanger and away, powering through the winds until it screamed through the clouds and towards the capital of Kar Alabrek.

Keep Approach, Alabrek Citadel
Kar Alabrek, Tarthos


The transport tore through the aerospace above the Citadel, sweeping in an arching path over the Grand Promenade and Gardens as a pair of fighters followed tightly on its flanks, escorting the transport towards its designated landing zone upon the Keep's approach. Air traffic had grown far stricter since the chaos at Markosian, the fighter support following the transport holding a pattern around the landing pad until they were certain that the codes they had received were verified and the figure leaving the transport was indeed the Senior Director. It didn't take them very long to receive their confirmation as Methyas stepped out into plain sight his voice rising in the heads of the SOG troopers for a moment to ease them before he started towards the Keep's entrance with Mactavish on his heels.

The sound of a solid wood striking the marble floor echoed throughout the vast hall as the Jedi made his way down towards a set of doors near the heart of the Keep; the intricate moulding largely unnoticed amongst the rest of the Keep and largely from the fact of the busty woman standing by them. A slow whistle escaped from Mactavish as he approached, a chuckle escaping the Miraluka as he spoke, "Behave John, she is my Quaestor after all."

As they grew closer a sly smiled crossed Kalia's face, almost as though she had been privy to their discussion, and Mactavish responded flatly, "Oh..."

Nodding towards Kalia, Methyas motioned for her to lead the way as the intricate door at her side opened smoothly revealing a turbolift and the trio quickly boarded the lift before Methyas started up his communicator, he had things to discuss with his former padawan.

Their discussion was brief, words not really needed between the pair considering their connection, though Methyas suspected a portion of it had been interrupted as they passed from the public to secured regions of the Auxilary. The increased level of security had been an ideal shared between the Miraluka and the former apprentice of the Fist's Praetor and it had thus far proven itself useful if the reports of attempted external access were true. The Jedi shuffled uncomfortably as he fidgeted with his shikomizu in his hands, his thoughts upon the tension and unease he had felt for months now. Things hadn't gotten better since the coup either, the feeling seeming to grow more powerful to the young man, even worse were the bundles of knots upon knots whenever he were to meditate on the state of the Summit. Far too much information for the meditations of a young Jedi to divine without weeks upon months of searching; which had been why Methyas had suggested another way when Kalia had asked him for his assistance.

For too long the Clan had fought against the Organisation and its allies, far too long without knowledge of their own to discover the truth of these infiltrators. Finally he spoke, "Have our agents at Markosian uncovered anything yet?"

Macron Sadow

26-05-2012 18:47:13

Usharak Keep
Kangaras
Unknown Regions

Light flickered within the deep beneath the Keep. Down here where the dungeon was formerly, things had become very different in the last few years. Cables tacked to walls snaked down the passages like ribbed tubes down a dying man's throat. They delivered power to the apparatus. Inside the main chamber several plasteel tanks bubbled with noisome fluids. Within them squamous figures slopped and gushed loathsomely about. The smell of ozone and acrid chemicals permeated the air with nauseous aromas.

“Will it work, do you think?” queried Malisane as he regarded the largest tank. “The Ewoks, while useful, did not go so well.” The Sith put one hand on the tank. “It looks a bit…. grainy, to me. Like unbaked dough.” The rugose loose flesh squelched against the half-meter thick plasteel. Legs like an enormous cockroach with translucent flabby skin squirmed behind the glass. It was disgusting.

Macron frowned. “It is true. It won’t live long on it’s own outside the delivery tank. A day at most. Still, it is a step forward in my research. I don’t yet grasp the particulars of what I read in the Holocron of Antar IV, but their methods do seem to be on the right track to educate me.” The Warlord made his insane trademark giggle. “A Taozin-Silooth hybrid, even if a baby, is still one hell of a diversion.”

“That’s not much life after it’s inception,” remarked Malisane calculatingly. “But a day, delivered in the right place could really tie up some resources. At least an hour or two after it’s engaged.” Malisane looked at Macron coolly. “I’m curious as to where you got the material.” He turned and walked towards the exit hatch, fingers on his chin. "Pity."

“The Silooth genetic material and zygotes I had from my deceased pet. The other… came from a private source of significant influence elsewhere within the Brotherhood.” The madman grinned a toothy tattooed grin. “They are curious to see if it can be replicated and entrusted me with a sample. Not yet, but this experiment should yield some interesting data when it encounters the Journeymen in our target zone.” Macron checked the connectors again as he prepared the ASP droids to begin moving it to the lift. “Good girl.”

Xanos

27-05-2012 15:11:40

Sepros
Location classified


The shuttle’s boarding ramp descended onto the jungle floor and a dank, stale chill swept up into the small ship’s holding bay. Sergeant Mao could not hold back her momentary shudder, but managed her best, if only so that the trooper behind her did not make any comment. Outside, the sight she beheld was not the savage, untamed jungle familiar to the Clansmen of Astronicus Sadow.

An ethereal mist seemed to hang over the woods. No bird calls sang down from the towering treetops. No predatory growls hissed from within the shadowy undergrowth. Even the stream alongside where the transport had set down did not trickle, the water completely still. The stream’s only sign of life—or rather, lack thereof—was instead the fish, floating upside down on the surface.

This wasn’t Illuna’s first time in these woods, but that didn’t change the chill that ran up her spine when she stepped out into the dead forest.

As she stepped off the boarding ramp, the sergeant put her foot on the grey-black root of one of the surrounding trees. The bark was as cold as it was colourless. On her touch, the dry surface flaked away, like the pages of a book after a fire. The soil beneath her boots was little better, grey and ashen... sucked dry of life, just like she felt was happening to her at that very moment.

Another chill washed over her, but she pushed it aside.

“But... what happened to the animals?” whispered Cale, the trooper behind her as he stepped off the ramp for himself. Cale pointed his black gauntlet up at the trees. “The birds’ nests... they’re all empty.”

The trooper’s words echoed the feeling in Illuna’s bones, but she ignored him; this was not the place to show fear; the young trooper would just have to get used to it, unless he wanted his fear to become his reality. Illuna simply shrugged and raised her wrist comm to her mouth.

“Sergeant Mao to Commander Goratis—” The sergeant considered what to report? What was there to report? It was a ghost town... literally. “Landing zone secure. No contact.” It was true. Technically.

There was no immediate reply, but that was to be expected—rerouting a signal through Sadow’s own comm systems, using the backdoors Macron’s Verpine contacts had now installed courtesy of Sai and Sildrin, was not the quickest way to communicate, but secrecy wasn’t about being quick.

Illuna glanced back up into the shuttle. “Come on, Fido, here boy.”

At her command, a huge, muscular black canine came bounding down the ramp, pushing Cale out of its way as it did so. Macron’s pet tuk’ata barked a warning as it hurried deeper into the desolate forest, displaying none of the hesitation shown by Cale—or Illuna herself, for that matter.

“I wish we hadn’t had to bring that thing...” grumbled Cale. “The smell...”

Fido—not that that was its real name... Illuna couldn’t remember what Macron had called it, but the Sith hound seemed to respond to her commands regardless—turned back toward Cale and growled.

The trooper quickly raised his hands. “Now, now, boy, I didn’t mean to—”

The tuk’ata growled again, cutting Cale off, before it turned around and disappeared into the forest.

“Enough, Trooper,” Illuna said, “if you want to be in the Cohort, get used to it.”

Illuna shook her head and raised her eyes to the treetops high overhead.

The Wookiees of Kashyyyk would have felt right at home here. Back when the trees were still alive, they had towered over the now-crumbled buildings that had once been home to the extinct natives. Here and there, a few stones, long since worn away by the forces of erosion, jutted out in between some of the dead trees. As for the trees themselves? Their gigantic trunks remained smothered in the black and hardened thorns and brambles that had once choked out the trees’ life, only to then die in turn themselves. The only ‘life’, if it could be called that, were the vines and creepers that had grown up hundreds of meters above, surrounding—or burying—the forgotten city beneath a green dome, like some sort of cocoon to shield the rest of the planet from the unnatural forces of decay.

“Proceed to target, Sergeant Mao,” Eosara finally replied over her suit’s inbuilt wrist comm. “It’s been eight years since the boss rebuilt this place. You never know what might have moved in.”

“Could anything be worse than that dog?” Cale muttered behind her.

The sergeant lowered her eyes again and turned her face toward the building that still stood at the center of the Ombi capital of Sair’omb: the Temple of Ombus. Not that it had been called that for a long, long time. Once, Urias Orian had made it his palace. Millennia later, Trevarus Caerick had destroyed it—only to later rebuild it, brick for brick. The Temple of the Void had been the heart of Orian’s dominion, and had become so once again, not for Orian or the Ombi, but for the Oracle.

If Sadow Palace was the home of Clan Naga Sadow, this was home to those apostatised from it.

Nobody had stepped foot here since Trevarus and his apprentice’s rebellion seven years ago.

Astronicus Sadow had wanted its existence buried. It was in this place that Trevarus Caerick had first gone mad, said the Overlord—and in this place, that Trevarus and Xanos, then still calling himself Darth Vexatus, had declared their defiance of Astronicus’s vision and the rule of the Sons of Sadow.

While most soldiers in the Cohort may not have known any of this, Illuna knew because she had been there. She’d served under Trevarus’s employ for almost as long as Eosara himself. It had been her whip that forced the Ekind to resurrect the monument to their people’s destruction.

“Whatever you want here, Trev,” the sergeant muttered, “it better be worth all this effort...”

Illuna shook her head and made her way toward the ancient—or was that now ‘new’, now that it had been rebuilt?—citadel that had stood at the heart of Sepros’s history for so many generations.

The mist hung over the dark ziggurat... as if lady death herself waited within.

For a moment, Illuna thought she saw a figure standing outside the entrance... but then it was gone again.

Cale paused behind her. “Did... did you just see that?”

“Pull yourself together,” retorted Illuna, even though inside she shared the young man’s reservation.

Trevarus had said this place was haunted; maybe Astronicus was right to have wanted to bury its existence...? But theirs was not to wonder why...theirs was but to do or... the sergeant sighed. She wasn’t here to second guess her orders. If Trevarus wanted her to double check the Sons of Sadow hadn’t installed any new countermeasures, then double check was what she would do.

Illuna unholstered her rifle and started up the staircase.

“Come on, Trooper, let’s get this place secured before the boss gets here.”

Malisane

29-05-2012 16:45:33

Usharak Keep
Kangaras
Unknown Regions


Macron frowned and studied the display on his armour's wristpad. "This doesn't look good, ship approaching, corvette class, heavily modified."
Malisane shrugged. "Nothing to worry about, it's just the Liberator."
Macron frowned. "I thought that was impounded by the Chamber after they caught you trying to escape."
"It was, however it was released a few months later by the Left Hand who luckily was myself at the time. The late Captain Syren's deputy took possession of it."
"What's she doing here?"
"She's in business with the ewoks. She ships their product to a distribution agent on Refuge, and brings back the basic supplies, bottles, labels, machine parts and so on. They used to use the Argnok but I ordered it on deployment readiness after that business with the Organisation."
"Didn't realise they were still producing the stuff," Macron said in surprise.
Malisane nodded. "They're doing well," he replied, "I helped them with their basic business model but they've managed to expand their market share into new sectors. They're still experimenting with new product lines."
Macron considered this, "What do they do with the money?"
The Battlelord shrugged, "I don't ask."

Macron nodded. "I still don't get why you're doing this Malisane, you have no grievance I can see with the Summit, or Dlarit."
"Some things must change," Malisane replied darkly, "you heard what my father told us. The futility."
"Your father told us what he thought we wanted to hear. I didn't trust his words."
"And nothing of them speaks of the truth?" the Battlelord pressed.
Macron considered this. "It might do, but I don't want to believe it. So why don't you just leave?"
Malisane sighed. "I can't," he replied, "I have no idea why. Perhaps it's what the Chamber did to me, or the Bastion, or the Sadow blood. I just know I can't. Not until I've done what I have to do."
"Which is?"
The Battlelord turned and looked at the wall. "I don't know yet. Perhaps this is a step on the journey."
Macron laughed, "Man I thought I had issues. Why don't you go and grab a bottle off the ewoks? It might lighten your mood."

Undisclosed Location
Planet Kadron
Union of Free Worlds Space


Karina Sarlos stood quickly as the two Masters entered the room. Shareth gave her a cold smile of greeting. “Remain seated Karina, there is no need for over formality in private.”
Master Gavrorn’s face was neutral, briefly studying the younger force user, his eyes calculating as ever. He walked over and took a seat as Karina sat down again and Master Shareth joined them. Karina glanced over and saw Lamarl waiting by the door, presumably ensuring they were not disturbed. “You have a report to make?” Gavrorn asked.
Karina nodded. “Two more have joined us. Knights Orn Terrack and Vithlas clan Chemok. They will be turned over to Master Garnath for training in our ways.”
Shareth smiled. “Excellent work my apprentice,” she congratulated, “both have fine potential.””
“Do you have other targets?” Gavrorn demanded.
Karina frowned, “It grows more difficult,” she replied, “the Jedi Council are becoming aware of something amiss. I may be discovered.”
“There is no true success without risk,” Gavrorn countered, “you were chosen for this task because supposeably you possess an ability to blend in, and are trusted.”
“They become more suspicious since more of their number have gone missing. There are still rumours about your own disappearance Master Gavrorn, but nothing has been said officially.”
“She is right Gavrorn,” Shareth said after a few seconds, “we should hold off for a while. He does not want any more of the Jedi Order coming here, if they infiltrate serious numbers it would force a confrontation we are not yet prepared for. We need another source of recruitment.”
“Then he needs to suggest one,” Gavrorn replied.
“Perhaps I do at that Gavrorn,” a quiet voice replied from the other side of the room. Immediately the three of them got to their feet and stood cautiously as he approached, still wearing his commissioner uniform, though his features had returned to normal from the Rakvese disguise. He took the fourth chair around the table and waved Lamarl over to pour wine as the others sat back down.
Gavrorn coughed nervously, in the presence of the only person Karina had seen make the Master nervous. “Lord, I did not intend to speak out of turn.”
“No Gavrorn, and you did not. Your point is a fair one. Your service to the Brotherhood to date has been exemplary, I have relied much on yourself and Master Shareth to build our strength and you have not disappointed me. It is time I shared with you what I have kept back so far.”
Shareth’s eyes glittered. “I am sure this will be fascinating.”
“We have another potential source of recruitment, richer in nature than the Jedi Order,” he continued, “one that Tslotha and I have had many dealings with in the past. I have avoided them until now for my own reasons, but soon it will be the time to renew our acquaintance. I am sure you will find them fascinating indeed.”