Disorderly Conduct

Sashar always found it remarkable that arid desert worlds could pull off ‘cold’ when the sun set. He always instinctively attributed temperature to the amount of moisture in the atmosphere, however this wasn’t the case as anyone even slightly schooled in the sciences would be quick to point out. Antei was no exception. The top of the Bonya Temple was traced by dusty winds, the scents of war mingling with the ash that seemed to permeate every crack and crevasse on the Force-forsaken planet.

The conflicts seemed to have abated, for the moment. The Sith had given up their initial raid on the Temple’s main entrance after meeting a sizeable army, and the Krath were licking their wounds after a small insurgent force headed by Sashar and a colleague he’d acquainted with during the Equite Ladder had made off with one of their trinkets. It was a mere ebb in the larger flow of combat, and from what the Arconae could tell, the entire conflict was over a penis-measuring contest amongst the Dark Councillors. Frankly, he couldn’t give a damn about which Order prevailed – they were all one Brotherhood. Nevertheless, altercations like these, (whilst petty and on the surface pointless) weeded out the weak. Turned ordinary men into heroes. Gave Sashar practice. He wasn’t going to turn his blade on his friends – no order from the Iron Throne would make him do that, but trimming Arcona’s herd wouldn’t hurt. They’d grown fat since he’d stepped down.

He didn’t care who won – the Throne could change, but Arcona would be the same. He would still fight to keep up appearances, and to make sure he hadn’t lost his edge, but there wasn’t the passion there that had once so fervently driven him. He would’ve missed it, had it not been constantly accompanied by the threat of he and his families’ grizzly deaths.

“You gave them cloaks?” A voice asked from behind him.

Sashar didn’t turn. Another set of his eyes had already regarded the approaching Keibatsu.

Flanked by two of his Wraiths, with a third circling far overhead, kept afloat seemingly by the tempestuous updrafts from the recent battle Sashar smirked and repled “Yeah, I found that the Journeymen wig out more if the Wraiths appear more human.”

“You see anything?” Tsainetomo Keibatsu asked, joining him and pointedly ignoring the smallest of the Wraiths as it licked its lips with an insanely long tongue.

“Yeah. There’s some activity to the East. I was about to send the Bat over that way to have a look, but it could be nothing. You want to check it out?” The Mandalorian replied, shifting slightly under the weight of the LJ-50 Concussion Rifle strapped across his back.

Tsainetomo frowned, clearly stretching his Force senses out as far as they’d go in the East, hoping for some sign over the best course of action. None seemed forthcoming.

Tsainetomo chuckled inwardly at the irony: the two men who possessed arguably the most famous sets of eyes in the Brotherhood were blind.

Crouching as the frown draped itself back onto his face, Tsainetomo once again reached out to the East. Still, nothing came to him. He was about to rise when he noted the creature Sashar dubbed ‘The Hunter’ had taken up position next to him, its form a perfect mirror of his. The Son of Sadow turned his head to regard the ethereal creation, and its features melted and reformed to become his own; it winked at him, shadows of its sentience creeping through to the surface.

“Show off,” Sai muttered under his breath as he brought himself to his full height, then louder, “I see your powers have increased exponentially since being welcomed into the Elder fold.”

Sashar, adjusting the weight of the concussion rifle once more, shrugged noncommittally. It was true; since the Mandalorian had been made Adept, the depths and reach of his powers had grown significantly. But, from what Tsainetomo knew of the Arconan, he knew that he wouldn’t revel in those powers as yet. For Sashar, the Force was a tool, nothing more, nothing less; the Mando simply had access to a bigger bag of tools.

This brought Sai to the reasoning behind their pairing. Both men were experiencing something ‘new’, after a fashion: Sashar, new to a previously undiscovered plateau of power, Sai new to an entirely different way of thinking. As Tsainetomo had recently left the Krath order to join the Obelisk, it was his hope that Sashar’s teachings would help him to become a better weapon, in and of himself; in exchange, the Sadowan Quaestor hoped that instruction would quicken the Arconan Mandalorian.

“You haven’t answered my question, Keibatsu. Do you want to check it out?” The hint of impatience coloring the Arconan’s voice snapped Sai from his reverie.

“I was just thinking; don’t you find it odd that we, on a basic level, can tell that something’s happening over there,” – a sun-darkened hand pointed eastward – “but the Force is telling us nothing?”

Sashar’s strange eyes met Tsainetomo’s own, his silence signaling the Son to continue.

“That tells me one of two things: either we’re weaker than we thought, or someone wants us to think that there’s nothing to check out,” Tsainetomo finished as his hand reflexively stole towards his peculiar lightsaber hilt, the man ducking a low swoop by the Bat.

“Cut that out,” Sai admonished, his tripartite gaze tracking the Bat’s lazy circle. Sashar snorted derisively. “I thought you were made of sterner stuff than that, Keibatsu.” Truthfully, the Adept knew better. They had faced one another in battle, and though he bested Sai, there was a burgeoning respect developing between them that came from their respective warrior cultures, and their mutual execution of those ideals. Still, the Arconae was a hard man, and it didn’t matter who was in front of him. Sashar was going to be Sashar.

Sai continued. “But, to answer your question: yes. Yes, I want to check it out. But, you may want to rein in your pet, first.” The Keibatsu nodded briefly skyward.

A questioning look met Sai’s gaze. “Well, if someone has taken such pains to make us think that there’s nothing there, then that means there is most certainly something there.” The Keibatsu finished, allowing Sashar to pick up where he left off.

“And where a Sith would literally dare someone to come take him out, the Krath would be less obvious – and prepared for anyone who came knocking,” the Arconae reasoned as the Bat, called on an unseen tether, alit silently on taloned feet next to its Master.

“Exactly. You forget, my friend; I’m not long for having left their numbers,” the Sadowan said as he tapped a long finger against his temple. “I know how they think.”

“Right,” Sashar uttered, seemingly unimpressed. “Well, then it’s settled. We hoof it.” The concussion rifle jostled slightly under the Adept’s motion, and Sai watched in admiration as the Bat dematerialized into ebon mist, waiting for Sashar to call it when he needed it. Tsainetomo, producing a scrap of cloth, tied his trademark mane into a bushy queue, joining his comrade as they made their way stealthily eastward.

The terrain was perfect for a concealed approach. Rock for all of the thirteen kilometres they travelled. The ashy sand and a lack of sunlight provided ample cover for the two of them, however they were still a fair distance away when they realised two things.

“That’s new.” Sashar murmured, lying on his stomach, his head barely poking over the top of an ash mound.

“Yeah, I never saw anything of that size when I was a Krath.” Tsainetomo, his voice flat and emotionless (the standard reaction to upcoming combat). He seemed to be able to shut down emotionally when necessary; a handy skill.

Perhaps a hundred meters distant was a creature not born of natural selection. It was gargantuan, vaguely quadruped in shape (however the front two of the four limbs were much more…muscled) and the creatures’ hide seemed to arbitrarily switch between an exoskeleton and a leathery skin drawn over oversized flesh. Its head was that of a rodent’s, only with horns framing it, running down either side of the forehead in two crescents that were clearly designed for gouging. It could’ve sat down on an AT-AT without noticing.

“There’s nobody nearby. We couldn’t sense anyone because there’s no-one here.” Sai observed.

Privately, Sashar was impressed that his companion had even been able to take his eyes off the huge beast long enough to notice the lack of Krath.

“Probably means they’re scared to be around it. It’s a bit ridiculous, even for a war-beast.” The Arconan mused, his eyes drifting about its form, looking for a weakness.

“Should we report back to the Temple and let them know about it?”

“No. Shab it, let’s just kill the damn thing.”

“How?”

The Mandalorian grinned in return, brought about his Concussion Rifle, took aim at the massive beasts’ right eye, and squeezed the trigger. Before the coruscating blue arrow of concussive energy had even fully left the barrel, it was caught up in a draft of telekinetic energy that followed it, edging the bolt on beyond the sound barrier. A crack overrode the sound of the LJ-50 firing, and the bolt, further sped up by Sashar’s ministrations, slammed into the side of the creatures’ head, causing it to rear up in alarm. It then turned to glare balefully at the two obelisk and let out a roar that shoot the sky.

Sashar’s grin faltered. “Osik. New plan: distract it. I’ll get on top and see what I can do.

“How are you going to get on top of that thing?” Sai asked, genuinely curious. It was far too high to jump and besides, the creature had started to charge them.

“Go right. Draw its attention. Let me worry about the rest.” He replied curtly, already reaching into the ether.

Far above him a large winged reptile roughly the size of a landspeeder forced its way from oblivion into transient reality. Its wingspan could match a TIE Fighter’s, and like all of the other Force Wraiths at Arcona’s beck and call, it was a nightmare to try and look at the skin; the shifting nature of it blurred in and out of focus enough to give a casual observer a headache. Vaguely, the Keibatsu realised it reminded him of a Drexl, which was fitting, given the Arconae’s planet of origin.

It swept down, screeching as it went and with a mighty jump, Sashar leapt up to meet it-

And planted his feet firmly on the creatures’ back. Black tendrils instantly formed around his legs and wrapped up as far as his knees, anchoring him in place. It was in no recorded intelligence reports that Wraiths were permeable enough to sustain physical contact with another being for more than a few seconds. For Sashar to have mastered them to such an extent that he could ride one like a battle mount was testament to the powers Tsainetomo suspected he’d been given access to as Elder.

He pushed the Drexl and its rider from his mind and focused on the task at hand. An orange blade sprang to life in his hand and he began waving it repeatedly, making sure the huge Krath beasts’ eyes stayed on it and altered the course of its one-animal stampede to his direction.

Whatever you’re going to do, do it fast… He thought fervently, staring down the monstrous leviathan.

-=[]=-

Seeing flying through the Bat’s eyes, and experiencing it himself stood atop the Drexl were two completely different things. He definitely preferred the latter. It only took a second or two to soar above the massive krath war beast and hop down, however he almost lost his balance as soon as he landed, given that its shoulders were going like massive pistons. Only the force helped keep him in place as he hopped up to the back of its head and jam his shoto into its skull. It flinched in pain, but otherwise didn’t show much sign of being affected or impaired. Frowing, Sashar made two more slashes in a broad cross, with the original stab being the point where they intersected. Happy with his handiwork, the Arconae leapt back up and off the beast, calling the Drexl to him once more. He landed with his feet on the Wraiths’ back and fired off a shot at the makeshift bullseye. The concussive blast was sped up yet again with the aid of telekinesis and blasted apart a good portion of the back of the creatures’ skull. It reared up in pain and swept a massive arm at Sashar, hoping to swat him from the sky. The Drexl sailed higher and as soon as the weapon was recharged, the Mandalorian fired off a final shot, straight into the leviathan’s brain. It fell to the floor, already dead and the shockwaves that pummelled the surface were nearly enough to knock the Keibatsu from his feet.

Sashar landed a few moments later, letting the Drexl fade back into the ether.

“That thing and I have,” Sai paused to correct himself, “had one thing in common: We were both distractions.”

“Yup, and why waste so much energy and resources creating that di’kutla mir’osik unless you’ve got something big to hide?”

“All-out attack on Bonya?”

“We’d better get back to the temple.” Sashar grimaced, not enjoying the prospect of the run back whilst carrying his favoured rifle.

By speeder, thirteen kilometers is a slight inconvenience for most people, taking scant seconds of lost time, an awkward pause in an important conversation.

By foot, thirteen kilometers is a long way. Over rock-strewn and silty earth, it’s a very long way. Especially when tiny pebbles find their way into boots conspiring to hobble, and shifting sands seem to stretch granulose tendrils around one’s ankles, making the journey all the more arduous for most.

Fortunately for Tsainetomo and Sashar, they were not most.

That which concealed their approach now fought to hamper their progress back to the Temple, but it was an exercise in futility; the men were built for just this sort of thing. Whether through years of practice or by psychological quirk, the Adept and the Exarch were able to shunt any discomfort to the side and make amazing time over the landscape, their actions an economy of motion with no wasted activity, the Dark Side replenishing their bodies even as it ravaged them.

The Exarch’s skin began to nettle from such protracted use of the Force, but the Son of Sadow didn’t mind. Not one bit. As the pair trotted across the landscape, his barely present consciousness reveled in the validation of his recent Order choice; he seemed to have access to inner-reserves even he wasn’t sure existed within himself. As for Sashar, their trek was only one of countless others, a footnote marking time between victories and conquests.

Just as Sai began to absently wonder as to whom they’d come upon first as they drew ever-closer to the besieged Temple, his Force senses perked, an ethereal divining rod tweaked by the energies that defined it. Both men slowed to a brisk walk, and Sai began to address the lumbering Adept, who was already regarding him.

“I was wondering if you were going to pick up on them,” he said, his easy tone belaying the fact that he just reeled off 12 and a half kilometers while jutting a scraggly chin ahead of them, “or if I have to tell you everything.”

Despite his detachment, Tsainetomo smiled at the joke. “Force-users…five of them, I think; I’m thinking the creature’s handlers?”

“What makes you say so?” asked Sashar, unslinging his rifle as he did so. “Because they stink of Krath?”

“That,” agreed Sai, the insult lost on him, “and the fact that with the fireworks ahead, that’s the only explanation that could be given for a goodly number of Darksiders so far removed from the festivities.”

“Very well, then. Let’s take them from the ridge.” Sashar moved towards a small rise in the topography, and Sai followed.

-=[]=-

For scholars who were supposedly beyond the pale of normal human emotion, the five Krath were very put out. They had invested a lot of time and energy into the beast that they sensed had fallen, and were determined to make whomever had slain it pay in kind. The only issue was, they hadn’t seen any starfighters or artillery arcing above them, and so, they began preparing for whatever approached them.

The lead Krath made his way towards a rise in the landscape just in front of them, meaning to get a better view of their guests. He scrambled up the slope of slippery stones and sand respectably enough, and even had the presence of mind to peek his head just above the lip of the rise. He stole a quick look…

…and the rest of his comrades watched in shock and horror as the top half of his skull disappeared in a spray of pink mist and a blue bolt of coruscating concussive energy.

-=[]=-

Sai and Sashar had just made the ridge when the Adept began to flash handsignals to his comrade – ‘commando-speak’ – which Sai interpreted as meaning ‘danger close’. With a practiced grace, Sashar immediately sped to the slope and took a prone position, sighting down the barrel of the LJ-50. Sai dutifully took a ready stance just behind and to the left of the Adept, willing the Dark Side to bolster his legs, focus his mind, replenish his reserves. ‘There’s always more,’ the Arconae reminded him about 5 clicks back. His eyes lidded as the Force bubbled near the surface of his being, awaiting an unknown signal. The ‘wet-work’ was about to begin.

As if on cue, his Force-assisted senses picked up on a slight change in Sashar’s breathing, the infinitesimal pause that came just before pulling the trigger. A breath of his own, and Sai bolted forward, up and over the ridge, just as the first of the Krath met his timely demise at the hands of Sashar’s marksmanship.

Tsainetomo’s tripartite eyes took in the scene below him even as the Force bore him aloft and into the midst of the sorcerers that were responsible for the leviathan Sashar had dispatched earlier. There were no glib thoughts, no witty rejoinders at the ready should the Krath begin to curse him. There was only calculation.

The Krath followed the way of Preparation. Subterfuge and the pursuit of knowledge required such a doctrine. Now, as they saw the long-maned one approaching on swift feet and lighted ‘saber, they realized the folly of facing one who followed the way of Action.

Sai’s Force-leap took him behind two of the Krath, who immediately whirled to try to pin him between they and their mates. Had they hesitated a moment longer, they might have espied Sashar cresting the ridge, the Bat and the Hunter materializing from the shimmering air around the Adept and setting upon them savagely. They never stood a chance, their robes and flesh alike tattered by the Wraiths’ raking talons.

Standing slightly more of a chance was the first Krath that Sai came upon; he lived for a full second longer than his compatriots before he fell, his throat laid open by a sunset crescent thrown by an impossibly fast Exarch, long fingers used to turning pages in hoary tomes clawing futilely at his open wound.

Now, only one remained. He ignited an amethyst column, the staccato patterns of Vaapad seeking to stop Sai in his tracks. The Son of Sadow met him vigorously, his swordsman’s body caught in the winds of Niman. At the top of the ridge, Sashar called his creations back into the ether and watched Tsainetomo with interest, his arms folding casually at his chest. When they’d met in the ACC, theirs was a fight of strategy, and against the venue itself. They never really had a chance to really fight one another, not the way Sai was doing now. Gradually, the Adept had to admit that Tsainetomo and the rest of his family’s reputation for bladework was well founded; having defeated nigh all of his family in lightsaber combat – Muz’ name had not yet been added to the rolls – the Son of Sadow was arguably the finest ‘saberist the Keibatsu had to offer.

Where the Krath was intent on killing Sai, his blows and strikes parried and shunted away at the last possible seconds before contact, Sai seemed to be content in flowing effortlessly through Niman’s forms, moving as if water upon a shore. His eyes, to Sashar’s disbelief, were still lidded. ‘How can he fight if he isn’t looking?’ The question came unbidden to the Arconae’s mind, but the Force soon answered that query.

The Adept could sense the Dark Side moving within and without the Keibatsu, as breaths to a martial artist. Every motion, every strike, every block and flourish, was used to exponentially increase the amount of power Sai drew upon, the exchange of energies alternating and beautiful. Sashar realized that he had sensed the same thing some time ago when he faced him, and the corners of his grizzled mouth drew up in admiration. “Here it comes…” Sashar said, more to himself than anyone as Tsainetomo delivered a furious flurry of blows to the belabored Krath’s upraised blade before spinning, sweeping the sorcerer’s legs and sending him to the hard-packed dust of Antei.

Completing his spin, Tsainetomo rose, simultaneously extinguishing his blade and replacing it at his side. The Krath struggled to rise, scarcely believing his good fortune…

…and was immediately smashed back to the ground by an obscenely powerful Force Blast.

The Keibatsu’s telekinetic assault was brutal, and Irresistible.

The surface of Antei was unforgiving, and Immovable.

The Krath’s body, having been at the nexus of the twain meeting, was, for the lack of a better word, pulped.

Tsainetomo’s face was placid, a mask of impassivity, even as a smattering of dust and ichor painted his sweaty features. Sashar gave a long, low whistle.

The enemy defeated and the spell, broken, Sai came to his senses at the sound, and walked heavily towards Sashar, his boots schuffing tiredly through the dust and pebbles.

The Sadowan Quaestor began to say something to the effect of ‘it had to be done’, or something similar, when his notice of Sashar’s distracted gaze gave him pause. He reached the crest, turned and followed the Adept’s stare.

Temple Boyna looked as if it were at the center of Creation itself, such were the pyrotechnics and earth-shattering explosions that surrounded it. Scores of Sith and their fighters swarmed the grounds and airspace around the structure, engaging the Krath and the baleful fireworks of their majicks, and all falling to Obelisk artillery. Lightsabers dotted the landscape nearly as far as the eye could see. Columns of oily, black smoke rose kilometers into the sky, and fires of every size adorned the base of the Temple as a necklace of fire-agates hanging at the throat of a high-priestess.

“You go left, I’ll go right, and we’ll meet at the back for a drink. Say, ten minutes?”

Tsainetomo’s voice was weary, but in no ways tinged with despair. Sashar laughed, the warrior’s joke not lost upon his own sensibilities. Sai’s baritone joined him.

Just then, Sai’s wrist-comm chimed, signaling an incoming message. A similar piece of equipment carried by Sashar did so at nearly the same time, and the scene before them changed.

The fighters stood down, the purple and black blotches of light ceased to burn their vision, and the artillery mercifully stopped, allowing the earth a moment’s rest. The lightsabers extinguished, the plasmic light stealing away their combined illumination and leaving the scene eerily cloaked in twilight and alarmingly still.

Both men stood surveying the scene, drinking in the beauty of it. Singularly, they were warriors. Weapons. Politics were at the crux of every war, and they were not politicians. They simply did what came naturally for them, and let the idealists wonder about implications. As for the Adept and the Exarch, the orders came down, and they followed. In that, they were successful.

There was still the matter of the cease-fire. What was the cause of it? Both Elder and Quaestor alike hit the activation studs of their communicators, and the news that the devices relayed promised to change everything.

“All Obelisk forces are to immediately cease hostilities towards the Krath and Sith and reconvene at the Bonya Temple for further orders. Any hostilities at this point will be met with summary execution, and there will be no exceptions.” Korras’ voice spoke over both Sai and Sashar’s comlinks.

Sashar frowned, glancing at his compatriot. “What’s that about?” He asked quietly, knowing that the Keibatsu was in the dark as much as he was.

“Let’s go find out.”

It took nearly an hour for the Obelisk to disentangle themselves from the various theatres of war outside the Bonya Temple and collect in the main hall of the massive structure. Korras, the de-facto leader of the ‘blues’ stood on a raised podium at the fore of the chamber and glanced pointedly at the Exarch and the Adept, latecomers to the gathering.

Thankfully, there were no Krath or Sith in the sacrosanct building.

“Grand Masters Ashen and Sarin as representatives of their respective Orders met with me about an hour ago to discuss an emergency cease fire. Whilst this conflict is by no means resolved, unfortunately we’ve discovered a much more pressing threat to the very Brotherhood.” He paused, and a murmur threaded through the Hall, as if the very walls were unsettled by the thought of a more potent enemy.

“We’ve received word from Judecca, Dajorra, Yridia, Kr’tal, Sepros, Kapsina and Salas V. Each of the Houses’ Capitals are in revolt. This is not a coincidence. The lack of the Force users from their respective systems has allowed a freedom of movement for a sect of insurgents, and whilst as-of-yet we don’t have the name of the sentient or sentients responsible for such an attack on our collective infrastructure, rest assured we will. All three Orders are putting aside our orders to combat this threat. As such, you’re all to return to your Houses’ headquarters and assist in subduing the uprising and gathering as much information as possible on what caused it, who is behind it, and where they are so we can make them woe the day they ever even contemplated trying to interfere in the Brotherhood’s affairs. That is all.”

A stunned silence took precedence. The Force slowly spread with thoughts of concern for friends and loved ones back in their Houses’ systems. Fears for the very survival of the Brotherhood, of their way of life mingled in the cacophony of conflicted emotions. Outrage and umbrage tore about the chamber hand in hand like a conflagration. Dark Jedi were proud. The thought that they’d been collectively manipulated and taken advantage of…it wasn’t something that any single one of them in the chamber, or indeed the entire Brotherhood, would allow to pass without retribution.

Retribution was too soft a word.

Sashar and Sai looked at one another, knowing their feelings to be identical: a cold fury and conviction to to lend themselves fully to retribution, to be her blade and mete out justice on the tip of their sabers. Nowhere would be safe. Nobody could protect those responsible. As the Arconans had said before – death was assured as soon as they took on the job. All that remained was how long the ‘Deader’ was given to live, and what method would be used to extinguish their lives. Those two variables would most likely be very short in duration and very messy in execution.

“Until next time, Sai.” Sashar said, nodding in respect.

“It’s been most educational.” The Keibatsu replied, reciprocating the offered arm grasp of farewell.



DA Sashar Erinos Arconae (Obelisk)/SGT/Arcona [ACC: CL:1]
AK / SB / SC-SoA / AC-ToDS / DC-GP / GN-BL / BN-BL / Cr-2D-3R-7A-9S-11E-5T-5Q / PoB-BL / CF-SF / CI-PC / DSS-AgL / SI-BL / LS-GL / SoL-BE / S:-2Do-5Dk-4P-11U-2B / LoR
{SA: DMP}
• di Tenebrous Arconae
PIN: 1612
OE Tsainetomo Keibatsu Sadow (Obelisk)/QUA/Naga Sadow [ACC: JUD]
SB / GC / SC-SoF / AC-ToSL / DC-GP / GN-BL / SN / Cr-2R-6A-7S-15E-3T-5Q / CI-SC / DSS / SoF / LS-AuL / SoL-TC / S:-1D-3Dk-3Rm-5P-6U-4B
{SA: DML - MVN}
• Son of Sadow
PIN: 7925