House Run-on

Sith Bloodfyre

24-05-2009 00:39:47

The conquest of Antei was over.

All across the throne world of the Dark Brotherhood, there was a sense of fulfillment, of completion, even though it was tinged with loss, and even a bit of confusion. Sarin was dead, if the reports were to be believed. The body had been found, but there was something strange about it. There was no sense of power to it, even beyond the grave. There had been other losses for certain, but this one seemed out of place. The Brotherhood would move on, as a new Grand Master had been named and given the throne in the presence of the assembled Clans, but there was still a sense of loss. Some whispered that the time had not been right for the Brotherhood to reclaim Antei, and that Sarin had been the cost of reclaiming Antei inappropriately. Others whispered in turn that Sarin was the cost for waiting to long.

Tarentum left the whispers and the rumors, and even the honors and the celebrations behind. Where all the Clans had taken part in the battle, and shared in the honors, Tarentum's victory was not to be had. There was no cause for celebration for the darkest Clan, except that it had stood with the rest of the Brotherhood for the reclamation of Antei. Tarentum had come as the Grand Master had called, but now that Sarin was gone, there was no reason to stay behind. In the future, Muz or another might call upon the great Clan, and it would come, but that was another time.

The ships of the dark Clan were full with its Force-users, its soldiers, and every piece of equipment the Clan had brought that had not been lost. And even then, the equipment that had been destroyed had been salvaged if at all possible. Those dead who had paid the price for the dark Clan had been brought along for the return trip home, as well. Caskets lined the cargo bays, watched over by an honor guard for the fallen. Soldiers would rotate through hourly watches over their fallen brothers, silent in their duty, with the only sounds the tapping of heels as new guardians came to take watch, a slight whisper as guards saluted the fallen in their small chambers of eternal rest, and tapping of heels as the former guardians left their posts behind.

The minds of the warriors still living raced with questions as they came to, or left from the post of guarding the dead. Tarentum was not the darkest Clan without reason, and even the soldiers of Tarentum knew the possibilities for the dead within this Clan. Would the fallen be left to have an honorable rest ahead of them, or would they be called upon to serve the Clan once more? No one had been risen thus far, at least in the public eye, and each and every soldier hoped that, if they were claimed in battle or elsewhere, that they would be seen as having fulfilled their duty to Tarentum, and left to the peace of oblivion.

But the minds of the Clan's leaders were not on the fallen, or even the risen.

Anshar Kahn, one of the Tarentae and present lord of the Clan, was in secluded conference with his Proconsul. The two sat opposite of each other in a spacious, comfortable room with chairs, couches, and all other manner of furniture that made the meeting quarters of the Consul some of the most comforting aboard the Imperial-class Star Destroyer that served as the flagship of Tarentum, the Magnus Kaerner

"Kazarelth sent a message earlier this hour," Anshar was saying, "and has recognized the time for change within Cestus. He has chosen to resign, but will wait for us to select his successor before announcing his intent."

"I believe the choice before us has already been made," Oberst answered. "Ronovi Tavisaen showed herself to be quite capable as a leader for the military. There is no reason to doubt her skill cannot continue within the House, considering she has been serving quite well as Aedile."

Anshar nodded, and then made a beckoning sign in the air with his right hand. Within moments, one of the wispy beings Tarentum called servant, a Force spirit, materialized before the Consul, head bowed in respect before looking up to meet the eyes of Tarentum's leaders.

"Find Ronovi Tavisaen," Anshar commanded, "and inform her that she is to meet with Kazarelth Talismarr to direct a change in Summit for Cestus. Inform them both that Ronovi has been chosen to succeed Kazarelth. Relay any questions immediately or calls for assistance if they have any."

"My lord," the spirit said, bowing its ethereal head, and dematerializing from the presence of the Clan Summit of Tarentum.


* * * * *


Ronovi was still within the belly of the Magnus Kaerner, administrating the resupply needs and other concerns for her division of I Corps. Ronovi had taken to her duties as Brigadier General with eagerness, and had done well. She stood within the meeting room set aside for staff, listening to her aides and other members of her general staff quietly, nodding at this piece of information, or that comment, making comments of her own as needed.

A quick knock at the door interrupted the proceedings. Ronovi turned, noting that the door had been left open, Vai Azexel at the door with one of the Restless, the Force spirits that served some of the eldest of Tarentum's Necromancers. The spirit at the side of the Knight and present Rollmaster of Cestus was not familiar to her, though she had spent little time in their presence.

"I see we have visitors," Ronovi stated quickly, calling the meeting to an end in her own manner. "That will be all, ladies and gentlemen."

The staff members for the First Division of I Corps filed out quickly, doing what they could to sidestep the Force spirit, its chilled presence not enough to make them quiver like children, but still not preferring to come closer than necessary to the Restless presence. When the room was empty, save for Ronovi herself, the female General beckoned in Vai and his companion spirit. The wispy being wasted no time waiting to be acknowledged, or allowed to speak.

"Ronovi Tavisaen," Anshar's messenger began, "you are informed from the Consul and Prince of Yridia, Anshar Kahn, that a change is to proceed within Cestus. Kazarelth Talismarr has spoken his wishes to renounce his claim to the position of Quaestor. The Consul has thus decreed that you are to rise to the position, with your first duties being to choose an Aedile of your own. Any questions or challenges to this duty, you are to relay through me now, that I may return them to the Consul immediately for any aid that may be necessary."

Ronovi blinked once, then looked at Vai, who shrugged his shoulders, not quite certain what other aid would be necessary in a routine changing of the House Summit. Ronovi turned back to the wispy being and shook her head quickly.

"Relay my acceptance to the Consul, and inform him that no further assistance has been requested," Ronovi answered. "Also inform him that, unless he declines, I choose Vai Azexel as my Aedile."

The Force spirit turned to the newly-chosen Aedile, awaiting a reply of acceptance or denial. Vai shook his head once in the affirmative. "I accept the call."

"Kazarelth Talismarr was to be called to your side," the Force spirit stated, "but I have been unable to call upon him. He is in the presence of Sith Bloodfyre, if you need to request his aid. Perhaps you will have greater success in bringing him forth than I."

No further words escaped the memory of the Force spirit's mouth, the wispy body fading from view in a mere second. Ronovi turned and took a seat at the large table in the middle of the room. Vai stepped over and took a seat beside her. Both looked into the face of the other for a few seconds, waiting to see who would break the silence first. Ronovi took the moment for her own.

"I think the first thing we need to do is alert the House," she began. "See if you can get Kazarelth on the comm. We need to get all of the database and system's access changed from he and I, to myself and you now."


* * * * *


Welshman Corsair was located on the Magnus Kaerner, as well, completing his duties as commander of the Piranha Task Force. For the most part, Welshman's duties were administrative, since each ship was commanded by its own staff, and since the hostilities at Antei were now at an end. There were still duties to fulfill, however. Welshman was hard at work in his own small office space. The optically-challenged human wasn't one for much pomp and luxury. The desk and chairs in his office were somewhat spartan, but still comfortable.

A quick beep and flashing on his computer screen caught Welshman's attention. Relayed over the text-based systems of the Clan was the following briefing: CHANGES IN CESTUS, TALISMARR RESIGNS, TAVISAEN SUCCEEDS AS QUAESTOR.

Welshman nodded briefly, then continued his paperwork. He'd find the time to join with Cestus when Ronovi made her first formal address to the House if he could. The odds were in his favor, considering the war was over.


* * * * *


Sith Bloodfyre and Kazarelth Talismarr sat alone in the quiet, in the lightless dark of Sith Bloodfyre's quarters on board the Requiem. The room had been assigned to the Shaevalian Master, but had been populated with a few of the Shaevalian's personal effects. Various small statues and objects of power that the Sith Master used to focus his energies seemed to resonate with a life of their own as the two beings meditated.

Sith had noticed the nudge in the Force as Anshar's messenger had sought to gain entrance. Within the Force, Bloodfyre had relayed the message that his quarters were off-limits to all but the Tarentae themselves, and received a response from the spirit that a Tarentae, the lord and Consul of Tarentum himself, had wished a message to be passed on to Kazarelth. Sith received the message from the remembered voice of the messenger, as had Kazarelth. The spirit then left the area without a further thought or attempt to enter.

Sith and Kazarelth had continued to sit in silence, pondering the nature of the Dark Side, but also focusing their thoughts upon the plane of Oblivion, the realm of the departed. There, the two sought out any words or whispers from the departed with regards to Sarin, the fallen Grand Master of the Brotherhood. No mention had been made for several hours of the apparently deceased lord of the Brotherhood. To Sith's mind, this meant that Sarin had not departed the land of the living, or at least, had not yet made his way into the land of the dead.

There had been a thought between Bloodfyre and his protégé, one which Kazarelth reiterated in the silence between them.

He is not here. Wherever he is, Sarin has not yet descended into Oblivion.'


* * * * *


Frosty Romanae and the Acolyte known as Bachatta glared at each other from across the training room. Frosty was nothing if not the determined warrior, and had taken the opportunity on the trip home to spar with Bachatta, and help make sure the new Krath member of the House could face a challenge in battle. The armored Dashade was an impressive sight, but the young Krath was holding his own for the time being. Frosty had left himself open enough for Bachatta to take several well-placed strikes, but Frosty still maintained his guard enough to easily sidestep or parry the blows away.

As the two slowly circled each other, Frosty waiting for the Krath to make a move, and the Krath waiting to figure up something clever enough to actually surprise the Dashade with, the commlink in Frosty's belt began to vibrate. Frosty held his left hand up quickly, deactivated his lightsaber with a flick of his thumb, and then grabbed his commlink and activated it.

"What?"

"There's been an announcement circulating across the ships of the fleet," Dranik's voice came over the link. "House Summit change in Cestus. Ronovi Tavisaen is the new Quaestor. When we get back to Yridia, I think she's planning to address the House as a whole on Koros."

"Got it." Frosty flicked the commlink to its "off" state once more, and flicked his lightsaber back to life, the always-familiar snap-hiss breaking the short moment of silence between the two sparring opponents.

"What's the big deal about a Summit change?" Bachatta asked.

"Nothing really," Frosty replied. "They happen once in a while. But word filters through, just like everything else. Come on, let's get back to work and then we'll head down to the off-duty lounge and grab a few to drink before we get into the system."

"Sounds like a plan," Bachatta nodded and said with a slight grin.


* * * * *


Dranik tucked his commlink back inside one of the pockets of his uniform and eased himself back into his chair in his private quarters. The bridge of the Phlegethon was just outside, but the thick doors and perfect insulation work kept all the noise out of his private abode. There was only another couple of hours travel time between the fleet and Tarentum's home system. The message about the shift in Cestus' Summit had reached him only moment's after Anshar's message had come in, relaying the transfer of Dranik to Cestus' halls. Things were always moving in Tarentum, whether forward, backward, to the side, up or down.

"Hopefully nothing else changes in the next few hours so I can get some sleep, dammit," Dranik mumbled to himself as his eyelids became much too heavy to keep open any longer.


* * * * *


The crew of the Doomsday generally gave Huldrych a wide berth. It wasn't that they feared the Ubese, they just generally didn't like him. Something about the typical Ubese being a bounty hunter, or someone else to be mistrusted made the regular space-faring crewmembers simply not want to be around the man. Which seemed to suit Huldrych just fine. The masked man spent the majority of his time within the hangar bay of the ship, working on drills with his squadron mates, discussing battle plans, possible improvements to the ship, formations, regular tactics and maneuvers, and beyond. To Huldrych, this was the best possible use of his time, and the greatest pursuit of all: perfection of one's self.

The slight buzz that emitted from his utility belt barely even gained noticed from the Ubese. His helmet had a display that allowed for textual communication to transmit from the commlink to the HUD.

New Quaestor for Cestus, Ronovi Tavisaen, Huldrych said more to himself than anyone else, the raspy voice still amplified by the helmet's systems. The other members of the squadron looked up, but Huldrych quieted down once more, and they knew he must have been reading from the commlink display, instead of addressing them.


* * * * *


The entirety of House Cestus of Tarentum was now aware of the shift in power within the Summit. Some found out through an interruption of their solitude, most discovered the news within a group, either made up of other House members, or other friends they had within the Clan. The news itself filtered throughout the rest of the Clan before even an hour had passed since Ronovi Tavisaen had been appointed, and her immediate choice of Aedile had been made.

Kazarelth

24-05-2009 05:38:01

What do you think, Sith?’ Kazarelth’s muffled “voice” drifted through the thick and nauseatingly viscous swathes of the Force that filled the room. ‘Would a fetter work? Assuming we get one…

Sith Bloodfyre knew what the Priest was getting at – an object close to the old Dark Lord and some alchemy could, in theory, forcibly attract Sarin’s spirit to the necromancer. Provided, of course, that the necromancer was powerful enough to control the subdued spirit of a Grand Master of the Dark Brotherhood.
However, any particular item that Sarin was physically and mentally attached to – such as his lightsaber – would have gone up in the flames of the vessel’s crash. And those he was sentimentally attached to could never be publicly discerned.

Sith shook his heavy head.
“Unless something really close to him survived that crash, or was not even present during the crash, no.” he said with his characteristic deep voice.
It was a dead end. At least, until the spirit of Sarin descended to the lower halls beyond the Shroud.

The two Necromancers’ minds floated without shape through the cloud of the dead. Every now and then, they would stretch out into a thin wire that would snake its way through the endlessly billowing cloud of stale Life-Stuff and sometimes they would become spacious blankets trying to course through the realm while touching as many spirits as possible.

There were times when the yearning to continuously remain in this “heaven” overpowered the younger Dark Jedi. The freedom of not having a corporeal body was almost subjugated Talismarr. Many times Sith would find him partially faded in power before applying his brand of the Force to bring most of him back, rebuking him for even trying anything of that sort.
“They hate you, Kazarelth. They have nothing but hatred for the Living. And you, of all people, must know how much they hate their tormenters. We are cursed because we are cursers.”

Even so Kazarelth enjoyed his short mental “trips” to the Shroud’s entrance.
Sith ended the joint meditation session as soon as he found Kazarelth’s mind longingly leaning towards the plane of the dead.

“I believe Ronovi wanted to talk with you.” Bloodfyre spoke in a low voice.
Talismarr nodded, looking slightly miffed as he rose to his feet and limped towards the door. The injuries sustained on his shin during the War were likely permanent, and he hated prosthetics.

“You are not going to talk now, Kazarelth?” Bloodfyre questioned.
In a while.

He strode off.

Welshman

24-05-2009 10:56:25

The incandescent whorl of light cascaded past the Warlord's viewport, a hypnotic mesh of white, blues and all the other colours that made up the stellar fraternity of the universe, raising his electronic gaze from his workstation he wondered how many of those stars had worlds scarred by the war that had, to all intents and purposes, passed Clan Tarentum by. The potential for exploitation was high, whole societies would need rebuilding and for that they would need metals, foods and medicine. Lucky for him he had all three in copious quantities stocked in warehouses on Yridia IX and in his barony of Poen Plains, making a mental note to double his prices the old Consul resumed studying several reports he had requested from his aide.

The door pad bleeped. Sighing Welshman flicked off his display and gazed up at the durasteel door.

“Enter.” The door wooshed up, displaced air pushing through the room to be felt like a slow caress upon Welsh's face.

“Vice Admiral. I've just completed collating the fire efficiency statistics for the Task Force. I've also appended to the report estimated costs of repairs for the TF. It makes for heartening reading, superficial damage to a few fighters and transports but no capital ship losses or structural damage.” The Givin's face stared impassive at Welshman as he handed him a data disk. Welshman wondered when the Givin had completed this report in his mind and how long he'd spent waiting for the computer network to come to the same conclusion.

“Much appreciated Commander Fol. Any latest on total casualties?”

“No official figures as of yet Sir.”

“Fine. That'll be all Commander, have the hanger bay prepare a shuttle for me. I may wish to make use of one to travel to Koros before the Flagship commences disembarkment.”

“Aye Sir.”

Ronovi

24-05-2009 16:03:19

"Did you want me to find an open terminal, Quaestor?" Vai asked, testing out calling Ronovi by her new title.

Ronovi still sat at the table as the new Aedile rose to his feet, the new scar under his eye dark in the dim lighting of the meeting room. Her hands lay folded in front of her, each scar white on her knuckles and fingers from the heat of the war. Her one real eye was closed, as if she were attempting to focus on the fabrics of the Force around her, touching each fiber with her mind. Even at her new Templar rank, her Force powers still left a little to be desired.

"Quaestor?"

"I hear you, Vai," muttered Ronovi, "And c'mon, call me Ronovi like you always do. I've never liked being formal with my title."

Vai looked at her as the Epicanthix lifted a hand to rub her browned temples. "Well?"

"Yeah, find a terminal. See if you can open communications with the Requiem. If Kazarelth is still conversing with Sith, I'm sure you'll still be able to contact the XO."

Vai nodded, remembering that Kazarelth was the commander of the ship as he turned to leave the meeting room. It was odd for him to see his higher-up be in such deep thought; whether on Koros or in the middle of battle, Ronovi usually was less thought and more fight. Even the usual sharp tone in her voice was faint, as if the news of holding such an honorable position in the clan were affecting her more than Vai would have imagined. He opened the door and was about to step out of the room when he heard Ronovi speak from behind him.

"You do know this is going to take a lot of work, right?"

Frowning, Vai turned to face Ronovi, who was looking at her second-in-command intently. Her blue electric eyepatch glinted in the light as it normally did, though this time it seemed to give her a sense of intensity, especially since she had the hood of her cloak pulled away from her face.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean becoming Quaestor and Aedile just after one of the bloodiest wars for Tarentum. You do realize how many casualties we've received, right?"

"I'm aware of the numbers. I've seen the caskets," replied Vai.

"You and I are going to be working very, very hard," Ronovi said. "Because we're going to be in a stage of recovery. Cestus may not have been hit the hardest, but we lost a decent amount of men and women. Newer members especially. So there's going to be morale and such to deal with."

"I'm ready for that," said Vai, perhaps a bit too confidently for Ronovi's liking. "Are you?"

There was a short silence between them as Ronovi slowly rose her feet, her tattered cloak hanging limply around her ankles. Then, turning to Vai, she said, "I decided to be Quaestor for a reason. Ready or not, I'll be doing my best for my house."

With that, she made a slight gesture toward the door, and Vai soon remembered what he was meant to do. He slipped out of the room in search of an open terminal, knowing that Ronovi was a few steps behind him, her tall shadow lit up against the durasteel as she followed him.

---

The executive officer was supervising those on the bridge as Kazarelth slowly entered, his gaunt figure emerging from the shadows of the corridors. As many of the workers saluted their commanding officer, the Krath Priest did not appear to notice or much care. He limped over to the main controls, giving a curt nod to the executive officer as he stared out of one of the viewports.

"How far have we traveled since Antei?" he asked, knowing that the non-Force sensitives on the ship would never get used to the way his "voice" sounded. He almost smiled at that.

"We've been flying smoothly for about ten hours now," replied the executive officer. "It'll most likely be another thirty-six before we reach the edge of it. Shouldn't face any bumps along the way."

"So no more dead Vong ships to deal with?" asked Kazarelth, remembering how many times he had had to alert his house of possible attacks.

"We were able to clear a lot of the dead out on our first flight. I'm not too worried," replied the executive officer.

"Maybe you're not, officer," Kazarelth said almost teasingly, before he heard the comm at his side begin to beep before crackling with another officer's voice.

"Sir, we've received a direct laser link from Ronovi Tavisaen on the Magnus Kaerner. She wishes to speak with you."

"And I know exactly what about," Kazarelth muttered before nodding to the XO and disappearing from the bridge.

---

Ronovi sat at the terminal with Vai beside her, waiting for Kazarelth's voice to emerge from the link. Because his voice was Force-induced, she was unsure of how well she'd be able to hear his enhanced whisper over the transmission. She was pleasantly surprised to hear it clearly as Kazarelth began to speak.

"Ronovi. You wanted to speak with me?"

"Yes. It's mainly concerning the technical things about...well, the shift," replied Ronovi.

"I see. Congratulations on your appointment, by the way."

"Thanks, friend," said Ronovi, smiling. While she was curious as to why Kazarelth resigned from Quaestor position, she already had ideas. His priorities most likely lay elsewhere, in his studies or his necromancy, and she wasn't one to interrogate friends rather than enemies. "Anyway, we'll just need everything in the Cestus databases changed. That way, Vai and I will both receive access to the system."

"That'll be done. It'll be more easily initiated from the database systems on the Corsair, but if you're in a hurry, I can try changing it from the Requiem."

"That won't be necessary, just so long as it's done," replied Ronovi, then waited patiently only to hear a simple response.

"Is that all you wished to ask me?"

Ronovi smirked. "I figured maybe you'd have some words of wisdom for me. I am taking your job, you know."

She could heard Kazarelth's sharp breaths on the other end, unsure if she was irritating him or just causing him to think. Still, what he said was simple enough. "You don't need any of my advice for that. In a way, you already know how to be Quaestor. There's no need to follow any lead of mine."

"That's it?" asked Ronovi incredulously.

"What, were you expecting one of those motivational speeches? You know, like 'Be yourself,' 'Listen to people's advice,' 'Don't talk to strangers' or something?"

"Very funny, Kazarelth," snapped Ronovi, though she couldn't help chuckling.

"My point is, do what you know is right. That's it. Nothing fancier."

"I'll keep that in mind. Thanks, Kaz."

"And Vai, if you're there, congratulations on becoming Aedile. You've earned it," said Kazarelth. "I'll see you both on Koros."

Ronovi heard the link close on Kazarelth's side before reclining back in the chair in the terminal. Vai waited for her to say something, to give an order as Quaestor, but instead Ronovi only looked at him with an arched eyebrow.

"Got something to say, Vai?" she asked.

"Well...I wasn't sure what we were supposed to do now."

"The same thing every house summit does when they haven't received any specific instructions yet," replied Ronovi as she stared at the dark, blank screen of the computer in front of them. "We wait."

---

The news of the new house summit had been relayed to everyone in Tarentum by now, whether by communication or through computers and datapads. Every leader was aware of the change, and it wasn't the only change given. There were rumors that Scion and Apollo would switch positions once they returned to the Sword's Sheah; Scion would become Gladius's Quaestor, and Apollo its Aedile. Even Tridens had experienced changes of its own, with Raiju Kang becoming its new Aedile when its interim, Korras, had stepped down.

As for Cestus, its members could only partake in the usual activities of those who had avoided being a casualty of war. Tending to their wounds, focusing on the Force, carrying out officer's duties. No matter what way they were doing it, Cestians were trying to heal their battle wounds. Even those Journeymen who now felt the premature sting of war's reality had to deal with coping and recovering.

No matter what, it would be a long way to Koros.

Ji

26-05-2009 21:30:18

An uncomfortable stillness had settled over the Doomsday as the day cycle ended and most crewmembers were in their bunks or quarters, finishing up their daily tasks before falling asleep. The abnormal quiet, however, could not be detected within the massive ship’s hangar bay. An endless cacophony of plasma tools, shouting voices, and twisting, groaning metal pervaded the stale, oil-smelling air. The large, typically open space was cluttered with dozens of fighters and shuttles brought out of their berths to be repaired or scrapped and Huldrych’s squadron was no exception. His TIE Defenders hung precariously low to the ground from the ceiling high above and Huldrych shook his head in dismay.

“How many ships remain space worthy, Lieutenant?” The raspy, cut voice could barely be heard above the raucous work going on around the two officers.

“Nine sir,” replied Huldrych’s executive officer Seith Ornill, “though all have sustained some form of minor damage and, while flyable, I would not recommend taking any of them into combat any time soon.”

Huldrych nodded, a motion imperceptible to most but Seith, having spent most of his life in the Imperial Navy, was familiar with such gestures of dismissal and promptly clicked his heels, saluted, and started towards the exit. The Ubese watched him as he left. His gait was rigid and militaristic. While not particularly surprising there was something odd in the way the human moved. Huldrych suspected he was still upset at having been commissioned as a mere lieutenant. Seith had commanded an entire fighter wing under Grand Admiral Pellaeon before being recruited by Clan Tarentum and, while his pay reflected his talents and astounding qualifications, the man from Boz Pity placed a great importance on military decorum. Huldrych doubted Seith would get over his typically gloomy and stonecold mannerism until he was back on top of a fighter wing with a rank appropriate to his past.

As the lieutenant turned the corner of the hangar doors and disappeared from view Huldrych started towards the nearest Defender. Like most of the squadron it was in a sad state. Its access panels had been peeled open by technicians and mechanics and the solar panels had several holes melted through the delicate energy converters. The cockpit flashed by the dull blue hue of a welding torch, silhouetting the various figures stuffed into the cramped controlpod interior.

Tier-Avis

28-05-2009 12:57:25

Tier-Avis Nami sat in the small quarters assigned to him aboard the Requiem, pouring over several open texts. Studying the histories of the Brotherhood and the universe was his current obsession. Nami had been disappointed in his inability to contribute to his house’s trials during the Great Jedi War. As a new recruit, his leadership did not deem it responsible to deploy him. He instead threw himself into learning all he could, about the Brotherhood, about the Force, about himself. He looked forward to the day when his master would be by his side again.

As if the mere thought had conjured him, the door to the cramped apartment opened and into the room stepped the slim Adumari who had taken Nami as his apprentice. Tek Cicero Dantes looked at Tier, seemingly pleased to see his apprentice hard at work. The war had weathered him a bit, Tier noticed, as he stood to greet the Battlemaster.

“Greetings, Master, and welcome. I am glad to see you returned in good health,” Nami said. “News of your many victories has preceded you.”

“Thank you, apprentice, but those battles are in the past,” Tek replied. “The Brotherhood has accomplished great things at a great cost, and now is the time to prepare you to do great things. The power is there for you to grasp, through the Force, apprentice, and I intend to see you realize that power. Now, let us join with more favorable surroundings. This way,” he said, turning to leave his charge to gather his things quickly and hurry to follow.

Nami trailed his master through the corridors of the Requiem until they reached a much larger quarters than his own, those reserved for the more experienced and respected Sith pilot. Tier-Avis felt, and rightly so, that he would be more comfortable here, and lusted for the days of his own prominence.

“Pour us some whiskey so we may better enjoy our talk. I want to hear all you have accomplished. Then I will tell you all you will accomplish still, for I intend to make up for lost time. I will not let you fail, for that would be my failure,” Dantes began. “You have been on your own since I was away, but that time has come to an end. My guidance of your progress now will begin in earnest. I hope you are ready, for true power can come from my wisdom, if you are prepared.”

“I am ready, Master,” Nami replied, setting two glasses on the table situated between the men’s seats. “I am eager to learn all I can, and become a powerful Dark Jedi, like you,” he said, pouring some fine Menkooro into the glasses and handing one to Tek.

“That path is wrought with peril and sacrifice. We are not there yet, though I believe you to be of great promise,” Dantes warned. “I think you could attain all I have, and I am happy to see you attain Protector rank so quickly, but much is to be done before you can call yourself Dark Jedi.”

Tek paused to sip on his drink, savoring the flavor with eyes closed. Nami took the opportunity to do the same, ruminating on his luck to have had such a character as Tek discover him.

“Tell me your trials, and leave nothing out. There is plenty of whiskey for a long night.”

“Very well, Master. Where should I begin…”

Ji

28-05-2009 13:56:53

Huldrych strode toward the nearly crippled fighter, careful to step over the countless wire-bundles and power cables scattered across the hangar floor around the small ships. Through the viewport he could make out several shapes with each flash of the torch, illuminating the canopy for a split second before the autopolarizing effect of the transparisteel kicked in and darkened the transparent surface. Upon closer inspection Huldrych could recognize the shapes of Nalan’rha and Parooushi through the darkened canopy.

Huldrych rapped his gloved fist against one of the lower transparisteel panels and, upon getting their attention, motioned upwards with a finger. Seconds later, the grease-stained blue face of the Twi’lek mechanic appeared over the top of the fighter. Leaning precariously over the rim of the cockpit the pilot glared down at her squadron commander with no small dose of irritability scrawled across her dirty face.

“We’re a little busy here sir,” remarked the Twi’lek snidely.

Huldrych had known when he requested her that she had a long and drawn out history of mild insubordination. While nothing particularly serious she had a clear lack of respect for authority through rank but Huldrych had little doubt he could bring her around over time. He chuckled to himself. She certainly had a healthy dose of luck and that was not something to be discounted when taking stock of a good or bad pilot. The mere fact that her dossier had crossed his desk was testament to her fortuitousness. Had she been assigned to any other squadron commander (particularly a Dark Jedi one) in the clan, Huldrych felt certain she would have either been drummed out of the military or worse due to her poor attitude. But never-the-less, she was a talented pilot and had years of experience working with Kuat Drive Yards. She would doubtless provide an ample resource for the squadron.

“Drop the attitude and give me a report, Ensign,” wheezed the slender Ubese through his mask. “How many fighters can you have repaired by the time we reach Yridia?”

Nalan’rha shrugged slightly and wiped a splotch of grease with the wrist of her coveralls, which only served to spread the stain from one cheek to the other in a ridiculous smear across her face. “I d’no sir. Parooushi seems to think we can have this one finished before morning and I’m sure when his shift starts Dall can get a couple more in working order. Including the two we’ve already fixed and with a healthy dose of luck… maybe half strength by the time we arrive. Certainly not more than that.”

“Thank you Ensign. Back to work.”

The Twi’lek let out an exasperated sigh and grinned as she disappeared back through the hatch into the interior of the TIE Defender. As Huldrych walked away from the fighter toward his supply officer he could hear a loud bang and the two mechanics begin to curse at one another in Huttese. Huldrych sighed and shook his head. If nothing else, he had certainly collected a number of very … colorful … personalities.

(srry, opted to do two short posts instead of one long one :P)

Vai

29-05-2009 22:08:08

The Shroud provided an appropriate setting to the thoughts going through the newly appointed Aedile. It was the unknown, the challenge that was laid before him that brought him into reflection. Like the path of the great ship, the future was unknown to him. Yet, he knew it would be filled with the knowledge that his choices, as well the choices of his Quaestor would guide the future and lives of the members that called Cestus home. As the Firrerreon walked, his hands behind his back, he began to hear voices down one of the corridors that drew quieter as he approached. From behind the corner came an Admiral of Tarentum Navy along with the Captain of the Magnus Kaerner.

“Vai is it? From what I’ve heard, you, along Ronovi are now the leaders of my house. What are you going to do different that the previous house summit did not?” said Warlord Welshman Tarentae.

Welshman had caught the fresh leader off-guard as the Knight stood speechless for a moment as he tried desperately to come up with a good answer that he felt would satisfy the former Consul of Tarentum. Vai could see on the human’s chiseled face that he was becoming impatient for answer. Realizing that he was now accountable and responsible, the Aedile cleared his throat and provided the best answer he could.

“We will first rebuild, Welshman. We will regroup and see where our forces are. One cannot lead effectively without knowing what is left of your house. We need to train and maintain vigilance so when the next time we are call to serve we are ready. Along with this we will recruit more to our cause and replenish our forces that have been weakened. Does that suit your satisfaction” said Vai.

The Vice-Admiral looked puzzled for a moment and then smiled at the Firrerreon and said “most new leaders just stand there when I quiz them like that so I applaud your self-confidence. Just remember that this clan and house has been around for a while now and there are members with a wide variety of skills that can help you achieve your goals so remember that just because you’re a leader, doesn’t mean you need to do it on your own.” With a snap, the Admiral about-faced and walked down the hallway that the Firrerreon had just come from.

With a smile, Vai turned and continued his walk and contemplation of what the future has in store. With a bleep, the communicator in Vai’s robe’s came to life with Ronovi’s voice “Vai, where are you?”

“I just got done talking to one of our more senior members about the future of the house” replied back the Aedile.

“Who were you talking to?” queried the Obelisk Templar.

“Welshman, he just wanted to see if I had the self-confidence needing to lead, as well gave me some advice to live by as a leader”, said Vai.

“Come to the main conference room. We are to receive orders from the Clan” said Ronovi in a now more serious tone.

“Understood, on my way” replied Vai.

With quickness in his step the Firrerreon made his way through the passageways and halls of the Star Destroyer until he reached the conference room. Pausing for a moment when he reached the door, Vai brushed himself off and straightened his attire and then entered. For some reason, Vai had always tried to show best face for the Clan Summit and once again this wasn’t an exception.

“About time you showed Knight Azexel” said the holographic image of Maxamillian von Oberst, “we were beginning to wonder if you took this serious or not. His highness Lord Khyron expects only the best be put in positions of leadership.”

A trickle of sweat dripped from Vai’s brow as he hurried himself into the seat next to Ronovi.

“Now that were all here” said Oberst as he looked at the Firrerreon, “let us discuss the future of Cestus.”

Ronovi

30-05-2009 01:04:01

Having been Aedile of Cestus for two adequate years, Ronovi was used to this kind of conference with her higher-ups. The only difference now was that it was not Kazarelth beside her, his pale visage glowing in the lights as he did most of the talking. Now it was her turn to feel the words on her tongue, her ideas out in the open. Not like she hadn't given her opinion before, but to tell it in her leader position felt, in all truth to her, truly satisfying.

She kept eye contact with Anshar and Oberst across the table, her hands neatly folded in front of her and her mouth drawn in a thin line. In a calm, leaderlike movement, Anshar removed a datapad from his robes, setting it down for possible note taking. He cleared his throat.

"You know that taking the position of Quaestor will not be simple at this point, correct?" he asked, his words smooth and simple as he directed them to Ronovi.

"I know."

"Cestus may have suffered the least casualties," continued the Consul, "and it is well on its way toward recovery already. There are new members on the Requiem who did not join the battle on the ground but contributed as best as they could in the air. Even now, older members are becoming part of your house."

"We've already heard of Dranik's transfer," said Ronovi.

"He is not the only one. Windos has decided to move from Gladius to become a part of Cestus. He has become fully accustomed to his new body since the operation on him after your mission on Samur."

While the news reassured Ronovi (she could also sense it from Vai), she still could feel the sort of apprehension that the summit was intending to set on them. She couldn't help but feel that they were attempting to test her and her new second-in-command, to see if their confidence would irrationally grow from such news. But already the reality was pressing itself into her mind, weaving within her temples. Ronovi found leaning forward from her seat, to look at Anshar and Oberst calmly and firmly.

"There is the matter of morale, and the matter of rebuilding, regardless of what new support we have," she says. "Vai and I intend to help our house dress its wounds rather than attempt to lick them clean."

"So it's low morale that you will focus on primarily?" asked Oberst, his voice cold and deep, its general-like quality almost emanating the room like the lights above.

"There are many Cestians, especially those who are newer, who are beginning to feel as if the Reclamation of Antei was nothing but a useless effort," replied Vai. "Elders as well, as we knew before, dissented the reclamation from the beginning. And when we took the Grand Master's orders, many were dismayed over his death."

"At the same time, the few Journeymen we have are letting their newfounded fears get to them...that they could be next to be claimed by death," said Ronovi. "We don't want that. We've lost enough Tarenti on Antei, and we need newer people to take our places once Vai and I, as we may both hope, progress."

"Do you already have something in mind to say to them, Quaestor?" asked Oberst, and Ronovi could heard a slight edge of skepticism in his voice.

"It's not what I'll say that's important," Ronovi replied, "but what we, Vai and I, do. We will take each step slowly - find a Rollmaster, revamp the battle team, everything to strengthen the house as a whole and not just individuals. Only when we can strengthen as a group can we heal. And we need to maintain as much confidence as we can."

"And no confidence equals no gained power," added Vai as he leaned back in his chair.

At these words, Anshar and Oberst looked at each other. While they expected Ronovi and Vai to be ambitious, the ambition they had still seemed realistic. While they had hopes for their house, every step they suggested was logical and necessary, even if the end result was not magnificent. Anshar took up his datapad to key in notes before probing the new summit one last time.

"I'm sure you both have your own plans to strengthen Cestus in terms of your primary goals. But as leaders, I assume that you'll expect failures."

"We'll attempt to avoid them still."

"Nonetheless, Tarentum has a long way to go to regain the glory it once had," said Oberst. "Some scars cannot heal. You may rebuild Cestus, polish it, but you cannot always control an ambitious or faltering Dark Jedi."

"We're aware that we will lose people on the way," said Ronovi, "whether they decide to leave the clan or withdraw from the Brotherhood itself. There are always losses and sacrifices. And I intend to balance them all."

"So...a new Cestus that takes risks and accepts the consequences."

"Something like that," said Vai.

There was a silence among the four leaders as they exchanged glances. Anshar focused on his datapad before returning it to his robes, and Oberst let his fierce eyes penetrate into Ronovi's and Vai's visages. They could only look back, praying that their words had hit some sort of target. Then...

"Very well. You are dismissed for now," said Anshar.

"That's it, huh?" Ronovi asked, an amused tone in her voice as she and Vai rose from their seats.

"Don't get cocky yet. There is a difference between ego and confidence," said Oberst as he and Anshar stood up to meet the house summit.

"Return to your duties. We will report to you if we have anything else to say," said Anshar. "Enjoy the trip."

Ronovi looked at Vai with a thin smile before the two turned and disappeared from the room. Anshar and Oberst returned to their seats, their faces stern as they thought over what had been spoken. Though little had been stated, motives were clear, and as Anshar reclined in his chair, he heard a rare but light chuckle from his Proconsul.

"Good. Very good," muttered Oberst, a thin smile on his face. "This may be a better choice than I thought..."

Tier-Avis

02-06-2009 21:45:36

The currently unused hanger bay on board the Requiem was the perfect place for a sparring match between the two combatants. Roomy, and quiet, it allowed for privacy and a large enough space to safely learn personal combat and maneuvering. Tier was happy to finally lock blades with Tek, and get some one-on-one training from his master. Book and classroom learning was important, but nothing could replace hands-on experience.

The master and apprentice were both armed with LaserHone Duelist swords. Tek had said they most closely simulated fighting with lightsabers, and Nami hoped to obtain his training saber once they arrived on Koros. Until then, though, it would have to be these analogs. Steel clanged against steel, echoing in the largely empty room, as Tek ran Nami through the motions, corrected mistakes, and started again.

“Your training in the Guardians of Kiffu has left little to be desired as far as swordplay, Apprentice,” growled Dantes. “No training may have suited you better.”

“Perhaps, Master,” agreed Tier, though he wasn’t so sure.

“The good news is that you are making progress at a superb rate,” said Tek. “You should be ready for your training saber by the time we land at Koros. There we will really step up your training. There can be no mistakes when you start handling the real thing!”

“Of course, Master,” replied Nami.

“It seems like years since I was surprised to find you wasting you talents piloting transports, though it has only been a month,” said the Sith, handing his blade to Nami. “I want you to know I am very proud of the work you have done so far, away from my guidance. I have great plans for you and me. It is up to you to succeed so we may realize those plans.”

“Thank you, Master,” Nami said, happy he could make his master proud, as he stored the Duelist swords away in their case. “I expect that much and more from myself.”

“Good. Very good, Apprentice. You must be your own critic, your own inspiration, and your own catalyst. I will guide you to the path, you must walk it. Go clean yourself up, and meet me in my quarters. There is another matter we must discuss.”

Nami returned to the small quarters he shared at the moment with another young, aspiring Journeyman. Tier entered to find Bachatta seated at the room’s only table, studying an open book. Nami’s entrance did not break the Krath’s concentration. Not with a book in front of him.

“Hello, Bachatta,” Nami greeted him.

The Falleen looked up in surprise as Tier’s words broke his eyes from his book.

“Greetings, Tier-Avis. I did not hear you come in. Has your master finally left you to your own devices?”

“Only for a small moment, as I am to meet him in his quarters shortly. How is the time with your master progressing?” inquired Tier concerning the fellow Protectors’s master, Frosty Romanae Tarentae.

“He has been a great help to me in all things,” replied Bachatta. “I have learned much from him in a short time, and feel I have come a great way since his return, though he allows me time to study, which I require. Perhaps later we can compare notes, and maybe meet in battle to test our skills.”

“A sure thing, Bachatta. We shall speak later,” Nami said. The Falleen Krath turned once again to his book and was instantly reabsorbed by its contents.

Tier-Avis got into a fresh set of clothes, donned his cloak, and swept out into the corridor for the long walk to his master’s quarters. On the way he thought of all the things he had learned, all the things yet to learn, and his excitement to finally arrive on Koros, and get settled into his new home.

“Your prowess on the ground is coming along, Obelisk, but don’t think for a moment I’ll leave it there,” Tek said as way of greeting his apprentice as Nami entered the room at Tek’s beckon. “Any apprentice of mine will learn to fly, and not the transports you now can pilot. I am talking fighters. I hope you had no plans for tonight,” Dantes said as he motioned towards a table heaped with books, flight manuals, and tactical studies of battle flying.

Vai

02-06-2009 23:22:54

With a hard crack, the Aedile of House Cestus lands on his back. A fire burns in his eyes has he slams his right hand down on the floor of the cargo bay. Bested by a woman scowled the man as he looked up from his prone position. Seeing the form of an Epicanthix rapidly approaching him, Vai called out to his muscular build and flipped off his back. Calling upon the force the Aedile spring out of range of the Quaestor’s golden blade as it cut into the metal floor. A grin came over the Aedile’s face as he depressed the trigger on his saber, and with a hiss the crimson blade sprung back to life.

“I will not be going down without spilling some of your blood” cursed the Cestus second-in-command with a convictive tone and then screamed and he force jumped back into combat, bringing his saber colliding that of the Quaestor.

Stepping back to lessen the charged blow from her apprentice, the Epicanthix adjusted her grip and shifted her weight enough to send the Firrerro stumbling to the right. Then with a quick twist of her hips, Ronovi brought her lightsaber arcing downward to intercept Vai’s backside. However, when you finished her swing Vai wasn’t where he was suppose to be.

Suddenly, Ronovi felt her senses telling her she was out of position. Before she could adjust, Vai hit her was a force strike sending her stumbling backwards then falling on her back. With a grunt, the Epicanthix hit the steel deck; much to her surprise her saber slipped from her grip. Capitalizing on her position, Vai held his saber high and then began to swing downward as to give the Quaestor a mark of their encounter. Just as Vai’s saber passed mid-circle, Ronovi kicked his legs out from underneath him.

Landing hard on the metal floor again, Vai let out a soft but noticeably painful groan. His lightsaber clanked on the floor and rolled away from the site of battle. As Vai lay prone once again, Ronovi regained her footing, however as she sat up a small trickle of blood dripped from her mouth a splashed on the floor. Anger grew within the Obelisk as she realized that her Aedile had done as he said. Her one eye ignited in a rage as she approached the Firrerro.

Her hair wild and muscles twitching Ronovi yelled at Vai “You’ll pay for that dearly foolish man” as she clenched her fists.

This battle has turned into a brawl now as Ronovi drove her boot into the Aedile stomach and then kicked him in the groin. Vai rolled around; the pain was surreal and was only going to get worse. He knew he needed to get back on his feet if he was going to stand a chance, yet as he attempted to rise the Quaestor smashed her clenched fist into the Firrerro’s head knocking the bleeding man onto his stomach.

“I didn’t survived in the pits of Eden City by being weak Vai, you should know better” said the Epicanthix as she grabbed Vai by the neck and then drove her elbow into the man’s back.

Screaming in pain, the Firrrero attempted to crawl away from the ferocity of the Quaestor that he had unleashed. Cracking her knuckles, Ronovi walked up to Vai and helped the broken Aedile to his feet.

“Now there, I prefer an opponent who can actually fight back and stop that pathetic whining Vai and you call yourself a Sith” said Ronovi with grin on her face. Vai knew very well that he was not whining like the Quaestor commented, it was a ploy to get under his skin to make him fight harder. He knew what she wanted and he was going to give it his all. The strong survive and the weak perish, these are the words that the Aedile lived by and he would see to it.

“Grab your saber and lets continue” says Ronovi as she walks to her corner of the cargo bay.

Reaching down to the ground, Vai collected his saber as he turned and watched the Epicanthix as she prepared herself for the next battle. Stretching, the Firrerro feels his bones pop back in place as his accelerated healing begins to work on his bruises and cuts.

“Begin” yells Ronovi as she charges Vai once again. The Firrerro recites in his head an old passage once more into the breech dear friends

Ronovi

03-06-2009 01:13:55

Again Ronovi could almost smell the sort of fury that hovered about her second-in-command like a thick, rich smoke. Again their sabers clashed. One simple stride from the conference room into the cargo room, and his trial had begun. Even after his promotion to the always anticipated rank of Knight, Vai was not one to be left without challenges. And all of them he took readily, much to the surprise and the simple delight of his Quaestor.

Parry about parry, blow after blow, Ronovi soon found herself weaving to and fro in fluid motion, stepping and outstepping her position to see Vai's swipes all in vain. She could feel the fire of his blade brush past her flesh, attempting to cook it when she would not let even singe her. She flicked the wrist which hand held her saber - that cursed Jedi's trophy - and let the yellow blade meet with Vai's red one before she let her left hand, open palm, collide into Vai's chest with a little Force power.

The Aedile was propelled backward, stumbling to the steel floor, before he easily got up again. This time, his blow was precise, though with his fist rather than his blade. He caught Ronovi squarely in the side of the head, disorienting her enough to knock her down only to have her leap up again as if only temporarily stunned. They were both losing coordination, exhaustion taking its toll as the fight continued as if for hours.

Blow after blow, parry about parry. Ronovi took moments to spit blood, tempted to spray the crimson mist into the Firrerro's deeply set eyes. She let her fist collide with his shoulder and felt the bones scrape beneath her blow, squeak as they bent out of shape. Then up with the saber, clashing with his as Vai attempted to fight back with a dislocated shoulder blade.

The Epicanthix may have been physically more agile, younger, fresher in strength; but her opponent, though not of the Equites, served to be a challenge all on his own. His own veteran roots as a warrior and as a fallen one were enough to push her back again and again, saber hissing as he swung and lunged. Two warriors of the Cestus, of the gauntlet, who raged at one another within the bowels of the Magnus Kaerner. Nothing but silhouettes in the background as the work of the clan summit above continued as usual.

---

Bloodfyre had not moved from his seat. He had no desire to move at all, much less move from this spot. That was not to say he was lounging; instead, his mind was in its usual place, between the planes of life and death. Existence and Oblivion. His necromancy was never something that moved to the back of his mind.

The Keepers' motives had been relayed to Anshar and Oberst shortly after Anshar's reconnection to his body, the warnings given out. He had been fortunate to be one of the few who held the Consul's secret. It was not something to be shared with those unwilling or incapable of comprehension. Tarentum's inner circle would keep things quiet, though the Sith Master was beginning to wonder how long they would be able to do so until true conflict broke out.

Antei had been a fool's game, despite the numerous casualties; now Bloodfyre could sense something much bigger on the horizon. The very fabrics of the clan, and of the three houses, its leaders and its subordinates - their threads were beginning to fray. The Tarentae was already beginning to feel the sense of distrust, the air of regret and anger and blame. Anshar and Oberst both would receive the brunt of the complaints as soon as they reached home. And many who had been in the clan for long enough would not be as supportive, either.

It was a must for Bloodfyre to keep focused as he remained settled. It could be one of the last few times he could be settled before the weights were tipped against and the balance in Tarentum was finally upset.

---

"You do know...why I had you do this."

The Quaestor and Aedile of Cestus were seated on the floor of the cargo hold, backs pressed against crates. Ronovi spoke the words slowly, breathing deeply as she wiped away the dry blood and cold sweat from her brow and chin. Both of their sabers lay by their sides, their hilts cooling from their masters' heated grip as they had clashed in their skirmish. Now the sparring had subsided, as Ronovi swallowed sharply and tasted the iron in her mouth. She did not wait for Vai to respond.

"I shouldn't ask. A man such as yourself doesn't need me to explain it," she murmured, her voice faint but firm nonetheless. "You are an esteemed Tarenti, and a good Dark Jedi. And sometimes I wonder if these tests like the one I just assigned you to are more for my entertainment than your actual benefit."

Vai chuckled before coughing, red spittle escaping from between his teeth. His senses were still amplified from the fight, so much that he could almost smell the steel surrounding them, the heat of the engines beneath them. "Who knows. I thoroughly enjoyed that."

"There is more to our new appointments than just rejuvenating the hopes of the house itself," continued Ronovi, propping herself up on one elbow. "I'm afraid this sort of confidence between us could wither more easily than it's grown. Funny, this whole war...'Unification,' they called it...I think it's done more division to us than unity."

"The losses we've suffered are responsible for that."

"There is more to everything, Vai," snapped Ronovi. "You and I are well aware of the consequences of rifts between our houses, within our own house. I may be your superior, but you've got more than twenty years my experience, facing the darkness and the light together. You would've witnessed the crumbling of foundations."

"Which is why I'm impressed by how long we've been able to endure as a clan," said Vai, grinning as he said the words. "You've told me yourself, Ronovi, that you're preparing to sever any ties from those you rely on."

"...There is a difference between reliance and alliance, my friend," smirked Ronovi. "My loyalties will not be changed. I am devoted to Cestus, to my Corps, and to my king. The Keepers as well."

"You trust in the Keepers?"

"I'm a Death Dealer, aren't I?" asked Ronovi. "I'm sure those who have sworn fealty to the Keepers will gladly introduce you into their fold as well. A role as necromancer would suit you. A Watcher, perhaps?"

"It's tempting," said Vai; their words still hovered around them as they spoke, drifting in the hum of the ship and the outside clatter of the ship's workers. His audacity got the better of him. "And the clan summit? You trust them?"

There was a pause between them before Ronovi slowly rose to her feet, placing her lightsaber back at her side. Concealing her matted dark hair underneath her hood, she turned to face her Aedile, her tall figure looming over him.

"I trust those who may benefit me, and who I may benefit," she said. "I'm not an advisor for no reason. And you...you will have your place in this circle of Tarenti. Even if the trust within it can barely be held on to."

With that, she began to move toward the door, but not without turning to see Vai stand up, his knees wobbling as he did so.

"I'm giving you your first orders as Quaestor to Aedile. We're in need of a Rollmaster upon our return. See if you can contact any suitable candidates. The Ubese, Huldrych...he's a good one to talk to."

Vai bowed. "Yes, ma'am. Anything else?"

"See if you can find Welshman again and speak to him about the reorganization of our house. If we could have some strength in our teams and military forces, it would be his forte."

"And what about you?"

"I'm going to see if I can make some contact with some of the newer Journeymen. See what their status is. They'll need some experience dealing with my transmissions, anyway."

Nodding, Vai made a move to pass Ronovi, but a gauntleted hand grasped his shoulder and stopped him. The Firrerreo stared up into the eyes of the Epicanthix, her browned, battered face and one real dark eye almost a still painting beneath her hood. For a minute, he wondered if she even blinked as she looked at him.

"I put my trust in you as my second-in-command, Vai. You better hope you can prove to me that I can keep it."

No sooner had the cautious words passed her lips than the new Quaestor swept out the door and through the corridor. Military to the end, her boots clicking against the steel, she walked like a soldier, like an Obelisk. Like a General. It was all Vai could do but watch Ronovi leave, an opponent in a duel becoming a superior in rank and in position. Perhaps, Vai thought to himself, she meant to put tension in their communications, to see how carefully he would tread. And, as he moved to carry out his orders, he wondered if she were only waiting for him in these much more uncertain times to stumble and tread on Ronovi's own toes.

Kazarelth

05-06-2009 10:44:27

Trust was a singular element that somehow always wandered out of reach within the Clan’s alchemy. It presented itself in the collaborative Light Jedi bashing that some in the Clan devoted themselves to throughout the war, and it perished with the death of the Light Jedi, or perhaps the death of the seeker who saw it, but briefly.
Trust, they said, had no place within the Dark Jedi community – it was nothing but a mere error in the making of them, for who indeed would trust a Dark Jedi but themselves? They were akin to prime numbers – frequent in nature when their magnitudes are small and rare when they ascend to greater powers. Some go mad, some “disappear”, and some are ‘legally’ killed. Who needed trust?

--

Talismarr’s slow, aching walk through the Requiem’s bowels took him backwards through the dungeons of his memory. Most of the inmates slept, though some were growling through the bars. Notably those that concerned the soldiers and the Great Library of Antei – it was a tough fight indeed. The Light Jedi was the first Kazarelth had seen in years, and the first he had fought. The Taldryan he had fought alongside proved to be a valuable ally, and the first tendrils of trust had cautiously woven around them when the battle was over. They parted ways soon, never to see each other again.
“Who needs trust”, indeed.

The House, however, was not the Brotherhood. In some ways, the House was not the Clan either, although it did make up the Clan. The gauntlet that was Cestus had been shaped by Talismarr for sometime now. As indeed, the Clan had shaped him, through its agents. Windos was his mentor back at the Praxeum – an honourable wizened Archpriest then, now a young Obeliskan warrior. He had tended to Windos’ wounds and fetched Gallus Octavius – the Yridian within whom Windos’ spirit resided. The older man was an energetic leader. He led by example and he taught Talismarr to do the same. Though the young Priest had not stayed his course in this regard sometimes, he did try his best. What could he attribute this friendship to if not trust?
His thoughts went on to Saitou, his master. The wise Pontifex was an embodiment of knowledge. He made Talismarr the skilled Priest he was, and taught him the basics of politics – something Krath were bound to do at one time or another. Here was not present the essence of the clichéd master-student betrayal lore of old, but a stern yet trusting friendship that mended a few wounds in the Pontifex’s mind as well.
And who could forget the Sith Master Bloodfyre. Consul at the time Kazarelth joined and for all he knew one of the authorities on all Clan matters. Though initially a distant, cold man to Talismarr, he had quickly become one more teacher to him, carefully guiding him through both Necromancy and Philosophy with ease. The master was one of the very few whom Kazarelth could count upon and although he could not say he knew the Shaevalian’s secrets (none could), it was an honour indeed to be privy to the man himself.

He smiled as he thought of the others in the Clan who had touched him with their actions towards him – both good and bad. Some had remained distant as ever since he had joined, no doubt but they all had people they trusted, or at least the Clan as a whole. And Talismarr himself could confidently say that he had infinite trust in his House. He could say naught of its many, unknown newer members but as a whole it was Tarentum’s finest.

He felt a heave in the Force, suddenly and he halted for a moment, taking in the surroundings.

The combat training facility was an impressive, if a little less spacious module within the Belarus-class cruiser. And one of its frequent occupants was the Dashade Frosty Tarentae.

You should spend some time with your student, don’t you think?’ Kazarelth’s eerie speech-from-the-shadows effect had no impact on Frosty – he was quite used to it now.

“Well I do, Kaz. However,” he stopped bashing the head of the already fried assault bot and looked up to Talismarr, “I don’t see you here too much.”

Before Kazarelth could mutter some excuse concerning his foot and/or how he “needed” to be at the bridge at this “important hour” Frosty pointed his saber at Talismarr and roared “EN GARDE!”

Oh no.

“Oh yes!!” Frosty grinned widely – a very horrible sight to behold. Talismarr thought quickly before pointing at a vague corner and simulating a cry, “Don’t Frosty! Bachatta will get hurt!” and sent a powerful blow of the Force screaming towards the Dashade.
When Frosty got up to his feet, Talismarr was already hobbling halfway through to the command center.

Ronovi

10-06-2009 03:03:30

The air felt dry on Ronovi's face as she maneuvered the corridors toward another open terminal. Her 1st Division troops were all assembled properly in separate quarters as she passed, some even moving to salute or bow to their general as she passed. The sort of symbolism that was provided for a military authority was insignificant to the Quaestor, especially at the moment, when her thoughts were elsewhere.

She had been open to many she trusted about her own thoughts and wishes for the house and for the clan. True, she knew when to keep quiet, or when to stay reserved, but when people asked questions, she was prone to answer them honestly. Some open discussion cooled her temples and let her breathe easier, as it was never healthy to keep thoughts like heavy iron weights pose a burden on her. But one thing in particular she had not mentioned or even attempted to show was bothering her, though the Force senses of those around her could betray her at any given moment.

Stopping at one viewport, Ronovi eyed the mists around the ship as night began to fall and the Magnus Kaerner drew ever closer to the edge of the Shroud. It would be another day before they could leave this nebulous maze, to drop into hyperspace and return to Yridia. Antei was behind those shadows, behind those scattered entities of stardust and concentrated matter. And back there were the dead and possibly the still dying. And perhaps the missing.

Her apprentice had not returned to the Requiem. In fact, the last time Ronovi had seen Jaron on Antei was when the latter received a head injury, a simple act of determination from one group of Jedi. She would have thought the Jedi Hunter would have stayed back at the base, but whatever had happened, she was not to be found on the ships. Ronovi had contacted the transport pilots with little success; now she could only stop herself from wondering. So close to Knighthood, now lost to the cosmos. A real shame.


In the end, Ronovi could only take the blame for not watching over her apprentice as carefully. She had lost an excellent candidate for future leadership positions, and the first of her students had been so close and yet so far. One of her biggest failures. But was keeping it away from others healthy? Considering that the Quaestor was open to discussing other issues, how was it that she could've even talk about what was probably the heaviest burden on her mind? A teacher must be ready to discuss a lost student. But all she could do now was hope to make up for it.

And she would as best she could; Ronovi may not have been a perfect master yet, but she could still be a worthy mentor. Sitting at a terminal, she keyed in the transmission code to the Requiem. The crackling voice of a worker emerged.

"Get me Tek Cicero Dantes," she uttered.

There was silence for a short time on the other end before the voice of the Sith Battlemaster was heard. "How can I help you, Quaestor?"

"Is your apprentice around?"

"Tier-Avis? He's currently studying in one of the quarters."

"I'd like to speak to him and discuss his process. Specifically, how he's been doing under your tutelage. Do you mind?"

"Not at all. Let me get him."

Good, Ronovi thought. At least I could provide some guidance to some of Cestus's rising stars before the big speech on Koros.

Tier-Avis

12-06-2009 01:11:52

Tier-Avis Nami had just closed the third book on combat flight tactics and was rubbing his labored eyes when the bell rang to announce a visitor at the door of his quarters. Nami was slightly annoyed at the intrusion, but knew it was not his master. Tek would have just come in, requiring no invitation. The Kiffar rose from his chair and walked to the door, and opened it to find a messenger waiting for him.

“Your presence is required in the quarters of Tek Cicero Dantes, without delay,” intoned the messenger. Nami thanked the man and set him away.

Though exhausted from reading for hours upon hours, Tier hurriedly gathered his cloak and rushed to his master’s room. Without delay. What constitutes delay? Nami thought. Whatever it was, any delay would earn him a sharp reprimand from the Sith.

Tier-Avis had noticed a decided change in the relationship he and Tek shared at this early hour of their partnership. Nurturing, almost fatherly in the first days, the Battlemaster had turned frosty on his new apprentice. The training was all encompassing, and left little time for any other interaction. Nami was berated for any small infraction or mistake, and few kind words flowed from the Adumari. He seemed to intentionally drive Tier-Avis to anger, sometimes rage, and then prompted the Protector to use those emotions against him. Strange. Still, the Kiffar was learning in leaps and bounds. He was starting to see how to use his emotions to fuel the Force.

Nami arrived at Tek’s room no more than five minutes after the messenger at appeared at his door. Still, it was not good enough.

“What does without delay mean to you, apprentice?” growled Dantes.

“Sorry, Master. I came as quickly as I could,” responded Tier-Avis.

Tek just glared at his apprentice, silent. Words could not have said more. “Your Quaestor is on the com for you, apprentice,” Dantes finally said. “Show the proper respect, or you’ll deal with me later. Don’t keep her waiting any longer,” he finished, motioning to the communicator. He obviously was not going to grant his apprentice any privacy.

Nami took a seat at the terminal and depressed the button to connect to Ronovi’s quarters on the Magnus Kaerner. “Good evening, Templar Tavisaen. This is Tier-Avis Nami. How can I help you?” the Kiffar spoke.

“Hello, Tier-Avis,” answer the new Quaestor of House Cestus. “It is nice to finally speak with you. I look forward to us meeting face to face on the Corsair. But until then, this will have to do.”

“I look forward to that day as well, Quaestor,” replied Nami.

“Your choice of Tek for your master is a good one. He is a very capable man,” continued Ronovi. “How has your time with him been? Do you feel you have been progressing?”

At this Tek shot a dangerous look at his apprentice.

“Tek has been a great teacher, in all things. I certainly would not be where I am today if not for his preaching. A tough man, but fair,” answered Nami, saying what he knew his master wanted to be said. Though that didn’t mean it wasn’t true.

“Not too tough, I hope,” said Ronovi.

“Of course not. He pushes me when I need the push, nothing more. My confidence is high, and I feel that I am growing strong in the Force, thanks to my master,” Nami reassured her.

“Good to hear, Tier-Avis. What Tek does and says to you is for your own good, and it would be wise to heed his teachings,” said the Epicanthix. “Your emotions drive the Force, and Tek is your emotional leader, and sometimes the target of those emotions. Fear not any repercussions for using your full power on him, as that is his design and function.”

“If there is anything I can help you with, don’t hesitate to call on me. I’ll be busy with the transfer of leadership once we get to Koros, but I will do what I can to help,” said Ronovi. “I’ve taken up enough of your time. Back to it, I’m sure Tek has some work for you to do.”

“Thank you, Quaestor,” said Nami as Ronovi broke the connection. Tier-Avis stood up from the terminal, starting for the door. “I am returning to my quarters, unless you require more of me,” he said to his master.

Tek answered him with a dismissive wave of his hand.

Ronovi

20-06-2009 02:02:02

Koros

The low humming of the lights of the VSD Corsair soothed the new Quaestor's aching temples as she moved about her quarters. The rest of the trip back home from the Shroud had gone by smoothly, though the war's aftermath was beginning to show through the mist's shadowy folds. Those who had been treated for their injuries still moved slowly as they left their ship and shambled toward their shelter. Even in the house's complex, it was as if their confidence was still in pieces, and they made no attempt to put it back together.

More were dead or gone, vanishing from the plane of life to join with Oblivion. Those who had experienced war before may not have seen fazed, but each battle had hardened them further. It was another day to avoid death to them, a wisdom that was consistently with each assignment from the Dark Council.

Ronovi had welcomed the Dark Council auditor that had arrived casually, allowing him a room deep in the bowels of the ship with his men. There were enough supplies to go around, even if some of the Elders and Equites frowned upon this alleged hospitality. The Quaestor would hear none of it. She really had no choice, and it was best not to let her irritation settle on a target that did not deserve her attention.

Letting her fingers trace the outline of her eyepatch, the Epicanthix unlatched the clasp of her hooded cloak with her other hand. It fell from her shoulders as if defeated, its tattered and frayed edges spreading out like ink on the floor of her quarters. It was far too torn apart to be worn for anything but casual events, and Ronovi would have to put it away for now. So much for having a favorite article of clothing - now it was something to use against the cold more than intimidation.

As she stood in front of the mirror prepared for her, Ronovi saw the battered warrior staring back at her, her features looking as if chiseled out of stone. Her chest rose and fell against the tight fabric of her uniform, her silver officer insignia tarnished against the gray and blue sashes draped about her. Ronovi may have been a woman, but she was not a lady. Not gorgeous to look at. She was nearly a faceless soldier in a brigade, her exterior individuality only helped by her browned face, dark hair, and eye replaced by blue glass and harsh metal. She let her fingers curl against her palms. Cold fingertips against stretched, scarred hands. She let herself bask in the Force, attempting to strip away all of the light influence that had nearly captured her back on Antei.

She decided she could address the house like this. In uniform, her hair pulled back in a militant ponytail. A fellow fighter, a fellow Dark Jedi, scarred and bruised like anyone else who had fought war. As a leader, she wouldn't have it any other way. This was what she had always dreamed would happen.

The door to her quarters squeaked open as Ronovi turned to see Vai looking at her. He smiled thinly at her, his dark eyes scanning her. "Everyone's been congregated into the meeting room."

Ronovi nodded as she followed Vai out of the room, moving down the corridor and entering the room where she would address her house for the first time as its Quaestor.