Star Wars: A Galaxy in Crisis | IC | OPEN

[Ovesa]

Travelling to Zyggeria

Thoughts of the battlefield still lingered in Shaal's mind. It was a flawless victory, but she was in no mood to celebrate. A haze of confusion and fear hung over the metallic cabin of the ship.

Darth Glasyr was an unusual Sith for many reasons, one of which was how he treated his apprentices. Glasyr had trained many apprentices over the years, and he treated each with an unusual level of respect, even granting them autonomy on several occasions. For as long as she knew him, Darth Glasyr was a kind and gentle man, especially when compared alongside other Sith.

Hypori was different. Glasyr fought with a zealous fervor, using precise and well-calculated swipes to decimate dozens upon dozens of droids. There was an almost crazed excitement in his eyes as he fought. But even that was nothing compared to the scene with Marur. The sheer coldness and unbridled rage coming from one person alone would've been off putting to even the most hardened Sith, much less an apprentice...

She desperately wanted to say something, to ask even a question, but she couldn't bring herself to do so. Wordlessly, they stood as their ship descended onto the landing pad.

Time for more diplomacy.

For Glasyr, the battle's events had already melted into the past. There he stood, kind and professional, greeting the Zyggerians with a smile. "Greetings, it's an honor to be here in person. I do apologize for the postponement of our meeting, but I sincerely hope you understand our...extraneous circumstances. Now, what is it you would like to discuss?"

[Danceria]

Royal Palace, Zygerria

---

There were a few Zygerrians, but a variety of species that constituted for High King Uzimand's inner circle. "His Majesty of course would like to speak with you in the sunroom, refreshments will be provided of course." a cocoa-skinned human would introduce himself "Vizier Crus, of His Majesty's Council, a pleasure to meet you Lord Glaysr and Madam. If you would follow me to the Throne Room, His Majesty is viewing petitioners. He will make time for your Lordship-and any Sith benefactor, but this is a formality you understand."

In the ancient and stony audience chamber, the Zygerrian High King looked over a throng of petitioners and lobbyists-some from hologram projectors, some who made the trip in person. While it would not be a slight against the Sith, as per past treaties the High King of Zygerria would also have to preside over the territories given to them. Once the last were dismissed, his eyes rose and looked upon newcomers. If they were polite, they would bow, and he would extend his scepter to formally accept them for a longer conversation. However, while Uzimand looked upon Glaysr and his Togruta apprentice, those gifted with the Force would find his mind not easy to discern. He seemed genuinely welcoming towards them...or was he just bored? Perhaps he saw all who came under his domain as at least nominally beneath him to varying degrees...

[Newrey]

Deep Space, Marur

The flickering projection of Darth Vayne did little to hide the chill she seemed to carry wherever she went, even in the heated holoprojector room, several light years away from Dathomir, in deep space, it felt as though a cube of ice had been placed on his spine, her piercingly cold eyes seeing straight into his soul. He knelt instinctively.

"Master" he said reverently "The invasion of Hypori was a success, now only battle droids lay on its surface"

"Good" she slowly said, as though she was already planning her response to him before he'd even spoken "And of Darth Glasyr?"

"Darth Glasyr?" Marur said, raising his head to look at her

"Are you an echo?"

"No, Master, no. Darth Glasyr acted how a Sith would be expected to, though he did not accept my docking request, and..." he trailed off.

"What is it, apprentice?" she pushed him, her icy words paradoxically melting his aversion to speak.

"He prevented me from fully realising the battle through, our blades clashed over the fate of civilians." he uttered quickly, awaiting his Master's rage.

"Foolish boy" Vayne spoke after a few moments, her tone angered but not raised "If you had wished cross sabers then you should have killed him or let him kill you, as is the tradition of the Sith" Marur's head shot down to face the floor. Vayne never raised her voice in anger, but somehow the maintenance of composure was far worse. It was always followed with punishment, without exception.

"I cannot shed the shame that my cowardice has wrought, Master, if necessary I will fall on my own blade" he shot up, taking his sabers from his side and aiming them at his body. He could see the cruel eyes of Vayne calculating, weighing whether losing him would be worth it, or if there would be a more effective punishment. After a few moments that passed like hours, she spoke again;

"If you were a less worthy apprentice, I would have waited for you to do so, but not on this occasion." Marur attempted to hide his ragged breath as he placed his sabers back on his belt, just as Vayne's image flickered to reveal that of a planet. "This world is Bimmisaari, isolated, but populated. Somehow, in the great history of the Sith, Tulak Horde came to this world and left a Holocron that will not doubt hold secrets of the Force that cannot fall into the unworthy hands of the Jedi. Currently no one possesses it, but you will go to Bimmisaari and bring it back to me."

"Yes Master, I will not fail you"

"I will not entertain the notion that you will, I do not like surprises like those" she uttered, her final words a barbed threat to him. Her image faded away, leaving only Marur kneeling in the empty room as the ship hummed around him. He rose slowly, angered with himself. He had been raised, taught to never show fear. It was in his very bones, yet against Vayne, his nerve shattered.

"Pilot!" Marur called, hearing the clang of rushed footsteps against the metallic floor of the ship. The door slid open, with the obviously aged pilot stepping inside and coming to attention.

"Yes, my Lord?"

"Set a course to Bimmisaari, but depart the ship beforehand. I've been given a mission I intend to see through alone" Marur ordered, his eyes focused on where Vayne's holoprojection had been previously. The pilot nodded and departed. With the door closed, Marur let out a yell of frustration that he was certain the pilot had heard, but would never dare questions.

Bimmisaari

Had Marur been a more appreciative man, he might've considered Bimmisaari to have been an idyllic planet. The bright sun clearly light up the dense jungles that covered the planet, their canopy a delightful collection of varying shades of green that worked together and clashed violently with each gust of wind that passed over them. In amongst this mass of leaves and wood stood an ancient Temple, one far older than many of the cities that dotted the planet. It was stone was laced with vines as thick as snakes, a mossed to the point that the once imposing grey stone seemed to blend naturally with its surroundings. Had it not been for the very obvious central staircase and pyramid design, it could be mistaken for a set of strangely eroded rocks.

Marur had trekked a handful of miles before reaching the entrance, his dark boots splattered with mud, his soles clogged. This place was quickly beginning to get on his nerves. In the heat, he had discarded his heavier robes and wore a simple set of thin robes in its place. Arriving at the temple complex, he paused. Something felt off in the force, he could sense it. Something unnatural. Unmistakable. Something strong with the force. He drew his sabers but did not ignite it, proceeding with growing curiosity as to what could be this far from civilisation and deep into the jungle. He ascended the staircase and could begin to hear voices. Somebody was hear, or more accurately, a group of strangers were, and Marur could already feel the fight that was coming. Entering the pyramid, he followed the mystifying sensation, following an uncomfortably damp tunnel to an expansive room, it's room had long since partially collapsed, leaving the floor uneven with broken stone of varying size. He crouched behind one and scanned his surroundings.

There.

He spotted a group of oddly armoured individuals. They were clad in armour that was dark white, almost grey, with a helmet that had a lit visor. Not the best way to hide, but if he had been a less powerful Sith, he might've been intimidated. He moved closer, feeling the sensation of the Force strengthen. He eventually arrived in earshot;

"-ame all the way out here is beyond confusing" one of the armoured men sighed, clearly displeased in his assignment

"Where would you rather be? Saleucami? You wouldn't last a minute in space combat" another retorted, jokingly

"Maybe not Saleucami, but Mandolore? I've heard they're building a temple there. I could do with civilisation over some old ruins." the first man replied. He could see two other men hard at work digging away at something. The picture became clear to him. They were here for the Holocron, just as he was, though he'd never known the Jedi as ones to actively search for Sith knowledge. It mattered little to him.

"Quiet" a more authoritative voice cut through their chatter. To call it a voice was too lenient, it had more growl to it than anything. As if on cue, a large Cathar strolled into view. His fur was a dark orange, but his face had more incommon with a wild animal than many of the other Cathar's Marur had seen, his snout short but seemingly clenched in eternal anger, his lips thick and black, but something felt strange about it. He was almost certainly the source of the disturbance he could sense from the entrance of the temple, and now he could understand why. A mixture of the dark side and the light flowed through him. A converted Sith. Marur could feel his blood boil at the abomination that stood before him. He no longer cared for caution and ran towards his foes, his sabers ignited. He caught of the guards closer to him by surprise, an amputated arm was the cost of his lack of diligence. He quickly reached out with the force and grabbed a closer guard, choking him, but he could see the Cathar was quicker than he had expected so he threw the man with the force absentmindedly, bringing his sabers up in time to block the Cathar's saber. Silver and red clashed together violently. A silver lightsaber? This was new

Marur took a step back, launching a feint to the right before committing to a strike to with his left saber, but the Cathar had seen through it, blocking it before launching a counter. Marur barely got his free saber on the end of it, the power behind the Cathar's strike was not one he had seen used by a Jedi in his time, this one was different. Marur thoughts quickly stopped when he realised had allowed the Cathar to get too close and had to jump backwards to avoid getting eviscerated by the not-quite Jedi, he felt his anger grow at his rare display of absentmindedness. He countered with a flurry of increasingly angry strikes, forcing the Cathar back, but Marur knew that this couldn't last forever, he'd slip soon and hand to put an end to it quickly. He brought his sabers up and blocked a downwards strike by the Cathar and quickly kicked one of his knees, causing the Cathar to let out a roar of pain, before being pushed back several feet by Marur shoving him with the force. He became conscious of the other two men that had abandoned their digging and who were quickly gaining on him. He acted rashly, using the force to pull one of the closer onto his outstretched saber, but his blade was knocked to the side before he could impale the guard. The Cathar was faster than he had anticipated.

He threw the guard aside and focused on the Cathar again, their duel quickly becoming a dance as they tested each others ability, but soon Marur had to account for the remaining guard, who had disrupted his rhythm. He used his sabers to block the two attackers with fluidity. He never liked being on the defensive, but he knew that he had no choice on this one. However, as he lunged forwards to strike the Cathar, he knew he had made a mistake. He had overcompensated and overextended into the Cathar's guard, who acted with no hesitation and cut through Marur's left wrist, sending it crashing to the floor and the lightsaber retracted. He brought his arm up defensively against his chest. Anger dulled his senses as he let out a scream that tore echoed through the temple and disoriented all but the Cathar. His jaw clenched when he realised the Cathar was, or had been, a Sith and was likely able to counter his Sith scream. He instead began to relentlessly hack at the Cathar's defense uselessly, hoping for the impossibility that he could simply cut through the lightsaber. The Cathar was tiring, but Marur knew it was lost. Instead, he simply forced the Cathar back and ran with what little energy he had left, his anger and hatred at what this mission had cost him fuelling him. He realised now why Vayne had sent him here. She had sent him to his death.

Half his mind wanted to stay and accept his fate, but he was wiser than that. Even obedience couldn't overrun the survival instinct that Dathomirians have. He could hear the remaining guard chasing after him, Marur paused and brought down what little of the roof remained, he body drained at the expenditure, but it blocked the exit and would buy him crucial time. As he ran through the complex, he refused to let his mind dwell on anything other than survival, even though his breath was beyond ragged and forced, he knew he could not stop. Exiting the temple, he found that the a storm had overtaken the place, the rain anything but comforting or cooling, instead it was warm and only made him feel worse. He fled through the jungle, certain that the Jedi had not followed him. Reaching the ship, he collapsed as he set foot onto its extended ramp, dragging himself up the ramp that had become slick with rain. He lay for a few moments in the boundary of the ship's doorway and let out a cathartic yell, for the pain in his arm, the pain of failure, and the pain he would face when he was to contact Vayne and inform her of his crushing defeat

[Aserais]

Bimmisaari, Ancient Sith Temple Complex



Guardian Puar let out a growl of rage as he watched the Sith retreat out of the main room, almost tempted to abandoned the Defenders under his command and chase the fledgling Sith down to sink his teeth into the bastard's neck. He closed his eyes and breathed through his nose, allowing the anger he had clutched close during the fight to dissipate and be replaced by cold rationale--something he would need to deal with the injuries that his men had endured. Had it been a century before, the large Cathar might not have been able to let go of the fury of battle. Luckily he had found the first Saarai-Kaar, and discovered the power in balance.

"Shalin, you still alive?" he asked as he turned his golden eyes upon the defender who had lost an arm, who was currently being tended to by his Zabrak teammate--something he only knew because the Defender's helmet had slots to allow his horns to slide through the metal. Brasrae's hands hovered over the human's stump, healing waves of energy slowly causing the cauterized wound to close and clear of burned flesh.

"Yes, Guardian. Shit, wish I was unconscious though," he complained with a wince as Brasrae injected the site with Kolto to numb the pain. The third guardian, a Rattataki female named Sesudj, took off her helmet to expose her pale, tattooed face and winced as she brought her hand up to a cut that had been made when the Sith had thrown her against a wall.

"What the hell was that? We're deep in our own territory, how did a Sith make it all the way here?" she asked as she made her way over to Brasrae, allowing him to bring his hand up to the cut over her right eye and slowly begin to heal the abrasion.

A growl sounded deep in Puar's chest as he glared back at the temple entrance, contemplating that exact question. He had argued vehemently against exposing the Jensaarai to the galaxy, though he had abided by the council's decision once it had been made, no matter how foolish he believed it to be. This, though, hadn't seemed like someone who had known what he was getting into when he had launched himself at the group of Jensaarai. Puar had sensed surprise at the color of his saber, disgust at the thought of him being a former Sith... but nothing indicating that he had been expecting it.

Still, the fact that he had come to the temple could only mean that the new Sith Empire knew about the Tulak Horde holocron that he had been sent after... and he knew that one's master would not accept failure so easily.

"That was a Sith Lord, and we're not done here. Call the regiment, tell them to send some Droidekas our way, and get a medevac team out here for Shalin. He won't be any good to us until we get a prosthetic on that stump," he growled out as he waved his hand, causing several pillars of stone to move and block off the entrance to the temple. He hoped it would give them a bit more time until the reinforcements could arrive--hopefully before that boy's master sent him back in to get killed.

[Ovesa]

Uzimand's Palace, Zygerria

As they stepped into the stone palace, Shaal was taken aback by just how many different people were present. So many different peoples, be it lobbyists, advisors, or others, were there in person and via hologram. Before they were noticed, the room was vibrant, and open, and alive. Just a few years ago, Shaal would have been indifferent, but something about this place just hit differently.

At Glasyr's command, both Shaal and Darth Glasyr bowed in greeting, as per custom. "Your highness, it is an honor to speak with you in person." Darth Glasyr had once again returned to his charismatic, light hearted self. "We came here today to finalize our agreement; an arrangement that I hope you find most beneficial for both our nations."

Great, Shaal thought. More paperwork.

Glasyr smiled. "Before we begin, is there anything you would like to add?"

[Danceria]

Uzimand's Palace, Zygerria

As they stepped into the stone palace, Shaal was taken aback by just how many different people were present. So many different peoples, be it lobbyists, advisors, or others, were there in person and via hologram. Before they were noticed, the room was vibrant, and open, and alive. Just a few years ago, Shaal would have been indifferent, but something about this place just hit differently.

At Glasyr's command, both Shaal and Darth Glasyr bowed in greeting, as per custom. "Your highness, it is an honor to speak with you in person." Darth Glasyr had once again returned to his charismatic, light hearted self. "We came here today to finalize our agreement; an arrangement that I hope you find most beneficial for both our nations."

Great, Shaal thought. More paperwork.

Glasyr smiled. "Before we begin, is there anything you would like to add?"

"Ah yes." Uzimand began, his voice a soft ring against the acoutics, extending his scepter before passing it to a bright eyed and far younger Zygerrian-perhaps some page from a family of ancient repute. He strode down the stairway, his look of observation turning into a pleasant smile. "But such droll paperwork deserves a sunnier atmosphere, no?"

Upon closer inspection he was indeed tall, just halfway past six feet broad shouldered with the powerful and predatory stance befitting his species-yet it was not used against either of them, but more of an over-sized cat that had found new companions. He seemed to regard Shaal with some interest before turning to Lord Glasyr. "It has been some time since I spoke with someone from Korriban," Uzimand motioned for them to follow him to a room where one could speak with mild luxury and far more immense privacy-if the myriad of guards didn't make it obvious. "always a pleasure to have our benefactors here."

[Newrey]

With great exhaustion, Marur had managed to haul himself towards the holoprojector and activate it, his hands shook so much from shock and exhaustion that it seemed like an eternity to enter Vayne's codes to access her, but when he did, he could not raise himself from the floor, nor raise his head from the floor, his arm still clutched to his chest. He could feel her eyes upon him before he'd realised that she had answered.

"Weaker than I had thought" she spat with disgust

"You knew that the Jedi were here, didn't you?" Marur questioned reluctantly, his exhaustion eroding any resistance he might normally hold in questioning his Master.

"Not Jedi, but a new sect. Jensaarai" she answered after a few moments, Marur questioning her having caught her off guard. Followers of the hidden truth Marur thought to himself, he was familiar with the Sith language, but what was this Hidden Truth they had name themselves after "Weaklings, like yourself, who dare not commit to the Dark Side in fear of its power, recently revealed themselves. And I wished to test their strength"

"By sacrificing me?"

"A necessary sacrifice, tell me, did you at least have the strength to slay one?" Marur's silence answered her question better than words "Wounded and failing to kill, a disgrace to the Sith Empire"

"I apologise Master, what would you have me do?"

"You already have your orders. Retrieve that Holocron or die with dignity against a foe, do not return to me in failure" Vayne said, her initial anger subsiding to what appeared to be cruel indifference, before her image faded, leaving him in silence except for the sound of the rain falling outside. He began to take heavy breathes, his shame subsiding for rage at how casually he had been cast aside by his Master, who he had spent his life dedicated to. She wanted the Holocron? She would get the Holocron, and she would find Marur's blade impaled in her when he returned to her. He stood up, filled with a new resolve, marched out of his ship and back into the pouring rain, the mud becoming thick and wet, each step feeling like a battle against the surface itself, like it were holding him back. Whereas before his trek to the Temple had been mindful of the plantlife, now he cut it aside with anger and his blade, the Cathar had disgrace him and would pay dearly for it.

He reached the temple complex as the Jensaarai had begun to exit it, carrying the more injured by the shoulders, but they spotted him. Their silver sabers ignited in preparation for the fight, but Marur knew he would not be returning from this. He removed his dark tunic, revealing his dark red torso, decorated in a series of winding black tattoos that twisted around his body like jagged wire, his scars from previous fights began to throb in time with his arms stub. Another decoration. He lifted his saber, it's wicked red blade illuminating him and casting cruel shadows around him, and pointed at the Cathar. He had come here to fight only one foe.

[Intellectual Beauty]

Snip

[Ovesa]

Zyggeria

The pair of Sith followed the King into the private room that was surrounded by guards, their footsteps resounding throughout the great stone walls. It was only a short walk from the main throne room. As far as Shaal was concered, the meeting itself would not take long; it was a formality, after all.

As they walked through the corridor, Shaal took notice of the great arched passageways, their walls lined with great artwork and tapestries made by some of the most skilled artisans in Zyggerian space.

Why offer this much autonomy to a Sith tributary? Shall wondered. There wasn't a need for an answer: Darth Glasyr was generous when it came to working with allies of the Empire. Glasyr said this was meant as "a reward for their unwavering loyalty" and "a display of the Empire's appreciation".

As the entered the room, the large doors rang shut behind them. In front of them stood the King, strong and majestic, ready to continue their meeting...

[Aserais]

Bimmisaari, Ancient Sith Temple Complex

This time Puar was ready for the Sith, and was able to sense his approach as the injured, angry Zabrak made his way towards the temple. "Brasrae, take Shalin and head towards the evac point. We're out of time. Sesudj, you're with me," he ordered, receiving a sharp nod from all three of his Defenders as they moved to carry out his orders. The Zabrak slung Shalin's arm over his shoulder and began supporting him as they made their way out of the temple complex, shortly followed by the massive Cathar and relatively diminutive Rattataki, who had replaced her helmet after Brasrae healed her wound.

He began slowly gathering his anger and focusing it into a sharp blade. How dare this Sith injure one of those under his command? How dare he violate their space, land on one of their worlds, attack without warning or provocation like an assassin in the night? The air around the Guardian began to shimmer with waves of visible force as he followed behind the two lead defenders. Soon, the four of them found themselves outside of the temple complex and had just begun to move out when the Sith stepped into the clearing.

"Go," he commanded as he stepped forward, his golden eyes locking onto the Zabrak as his feline ears twitched in recognition of the sound of Sesudj activating her dual sabers. His own lightsaber activated a moment later, bathing his right side in a soft silver glow.

"You caught me by surprise last time, boy. You injured my men, and inconvenienced me. It was a mistake on your part to leave without killing me," the Cathar rumbled as he spun the saber in his hand, his golden eyes never leaving the form of the Zabrak who was aiming his red lightsaber directly at Puar. He knew what the Sith wanted--he wanted a one-on-one duel with the one who had injured and angered him, and a century prior the Guardian may have given him that.

But he hadn't lived this long being reckless.

In a moment of unspoken coordination between himself and his former Learner, the two of them rushed forward at the same time. They fanned out, each coming at him from a different direction. Puar delivered a punishing overhead strike, his blow's force enhanced by his own fury as he gave himself fully to the combat. The red saber barely got up in time to deflect that strike away, his weakened opponent unable to contend with the Cathar's brute force with only one arm, before the Sith was forced to leap back as Sesudj attempted to deliver a cross-strike aimed at bisecting him at the waist.

Puar let out a feral roar as he moved in again, delivering punishing, powerful blows that forced the Sith to go off balance as his former student struck with lightning-fast movements and quick spins, intercepting and parrying away any returning strikes to give the Cathar another opening to strike with the ferocity that the Juyo form allowed him. As the fight went on, Puar could feel the Sith beginning to flag as his injuries began to show, his movements just a half-step slower than they had been a moment before. A ferocious grin found its way onto the Cathar's muzzle at the realization.

"What's the matter, boy? You're slowing down! Don't tell me this is all you have," the old lion taunted with growling chuckle as he deflected a thrust to the side, forcing the Zabrak to overextend himself in order to regain balance. The Sith just barely recovered in time to avoid having his leg chopped off at the knee by Sesudj, though he cried out as a scar of blackened flesh was left on his thigh by her shoto.

He stumbled back, and Puar saw the opportunity for what it was. He took the focused anger he had gathered for this fight and allowed it to flow through him, traveling up his arm and launching from his left hand in an arc of bright blue electricty that struck the Zabrak full on as he stumbled back. The force of the lightning strike was such that the Sith was sent flying back into a tree, screaming bloody murder the whole way as his entire being was suffused with the pain of Force Lightning traveling along every single one of his nerves.

Puar redoubled his efforts, deactivating his saber and clipping it to his belt before he added a second hand to the effort. Lightning arced off the tips of his talons as he shocked the Zabrak, continuing his assault until the tattooed male fell into unconsciousness. Immediately, the Cathar relented, allowing the lightning to taper off as he let his hands rest at his sides. He breathed out, releasing his anger and clearing his mind of the maddening rage that had gripped it only moments before.

"Damn, Guardian. Well... I can still sense him, so he's not dead. What do we do with him?" Sesudj asked as she sheathed her own sabers, looking down at the lightly-smoking Zabrak as she spoke.

"We take him to Susevfi. The Saarai-Kaar can decide how she wants to handle this," he growled out, just as his ears swiveled atop his head at the sound of an ion engine setting down not too far away from the clearing--probably their evac team.

"Come, Defender Susedj. Bring the boy," he ordered as he turned, heading towards the sound of the engine. He was going to give Alaata hell for this.

[Intellectual Beauty]

Snip

[Newrey]

Marur, Bimmisaari

He could feel the anticipation at the site of the Cathar's entourage leaving at his orders. Finally, a being who commanded respect, a duel with him would forgive his failings to his Master. Perhaps she would even feel it in the Force as he was extinguish so. The thought of his legacy being one of failure to soon be forgotten caused his grip on the saber to tighten. He would not let anticipation bring about his death so quickly. His eyes were trained solely on the Cathar that he had barely noticed the armoured Rattataki charge at him in synchronised fashion with the Cathar. He could tell in seconds that he was outmatched. A rare burst of panic shot through him as the Cathar pressed down on him, the overwhelming brute strength of his foe almost ending him outright as he allowed the Force to surge into his arms to hold the strike mere centimetres from his face. His senses heard the incoming Rattataki and took his only option to avoid being cheated out of a decent fight. He leapt backwards, admiring the solid silver light that his foes lightsaber gave out. Had the tables been turned, he might've made a comment on it.

His world became a mesh of blinding red and silver light, his arm alternating from the punishing shock of the Cathar's blows that tensed his other muscles as though he were lifting a weight, his frustration rising as each counter he made was quickly blocked by the ever present Rattataki, the pair of them refusing to give him ground to fight. Like a true Sith, he allowed his frustration to turn into anger but he couldn't turn it into the barrage of attacks he would have preferred to, instead having to use all energy he could to mount a defence, but he knew he was falling behind, soon he would make a mistake that would cost him.

'What's the matter, boy? You're slowing down! Don't tell me this is all you have' the Cathar taunted, the words hitting their mark, with a cry of rage he struck outwards and knew that he had made his mistake. He could tell his opponents knew it too and reacted without hesitation, the Rattataki landing a glancing blow that would have otherwise taken off his leg had he not moved quick enough, he stumbled backwards as his muscles clenched in response to the searing hot pain the erupted from his leg. His reactions were stunted by the attack, but the pain was replaced by the much greater sensation of being electrocuted.

He flew backwards from the shock, screaming out in a concoction of pain and rage, his body crying out as the pain pulsed through him, his mind feeling as thought it were shutting down to avoid continuing to experience this. No! he thought to himself. He had been electrocuted before by foes much stronger, he would not be taken down in a way that was used as punishment for weak apprentices. He forced himself up, his legs burning in response, but he could only bring himself to his knees, his lightsaber dropping from his hand. But the exertion was wasted as the Cathar raised his second hand, his body barely registering the sensation before it shut off completely, feeling only an intensely burning hot sensation before his vision went black.

Jensaarai Starship, En Route to Susevfi

His hearing returned long before his sight did, but even then it was of little use. His hearing ranged from a quiet ringing to a ringing that he was certain everyone could hear it. The soft hum of his restraints did not subside the issue, amplifying it at worst, his thoughts hard for even him to comprehend. His emotions were entirely understandable, shame rising chief amongst the storm that raged within him. He had followed his Master's orders, with the obedience that she demanded, yet he was still cheated of the death he deserved. If his muscles did not scream at him for every movement, he would have lowered his head.

Soon, however, his vision returned, but the blinding lights burned his eyes at even brief exposure but they eventually adapted, revealing a barebones room, the only notable factor was its uniformity in colour, an ugly grey. He was beginning to sense a theme amongst these so called 'Followers'. He spotted a figure sitting near him, no doubt keeping him under guard, he felt somewhat insulted at this lacklustre arrangement, as though a Sith, even one defeated and with one hand, was still not a threat, but he was at his most dangerous, for he had nothing else to lose.

"You should have killed me" he managed to say at great effort, his voice pained as it passed through his torn throat.

[Azanaire]

Above Concordia



As Duchess Tiva and Jedi Masters Sarlin and Prost sat near the holo table, three guards entered the east side of the large room and stood by the wall, standing guard. Master Prost was currently speaking, urging the Jedi Council to begin preparing for eventual war,

"All due respect Grand Master, Hypori's fleet and defense systems were annihilated in a matter of minutes! There is no excuse for the Jedi Order to sit on its hands and watch the Galaxy plunge into chaos due to a Hutt force sensitive that invaded a non-hostile system that is Mandalore's ally. If we stay silent, the Galaxy will know that we are not worthy of bringing democracy to every system, every species, that we are no better than the Sith Empire and not worthy of these lightsabers. If that's what we are doing, I am resigning my seat on the Jedi Order, this is not the time for politics, it is time for action!"

Tiva glanced at a fired-up Dasha, nodding her head in approval. She had never seen Master Prost so fed up with the Council, as she was considered a traditionalist while teaching padawans and was rather Orthodox in combat. There was a rather uncomfortable silence before Grand Master Elatlar spoke up,

"Master Prost, I understand your point of view and respect that. However, the Jedi Order is not and will not conduct wartime procedures that are not necessary. The Sith and the Ornitek have no conflict with our Order and shall remain that way. The Jedi Order will remain a neutral force unless provoked."

Tiva froze in the moment, shocked - the Jedi Order had shot itself in the foot again. She rose from her seat,

"Grand Master, you have misguided the Mandalorian trust in this Order once again. I am ashamed that you will use poltiics to sit on you seat and refuse to help those whom are helpless. An absolute shame. The Mandalorian Confederation will no longer aide the Jedi Order until a new Grand Master has been elected, an effective one at that" she boomed, ending the call.

Tiva released a big burst of air and hovered over the table, frustrated. Dasha rubbed her shoulder, "Tiva, me and Sarlin are with you and Mandalore all the way, the Jedi Order isn't what it use to be - what it could be. We are looking to become full members of the Manda'lor High Council and assist you in rebuilding your council. This is our destiny," smiled the two Jedi Leaders.

The group smiled for a second before realizing that those three guards were encircling them, and ignited red bladed lightsabers. They took off their robes and revealed themselves to the Jedi. The one near Sarlin was a Zabrak Male with scars running down the entirety of his face. He had a necklace of teeth hanging from his neck and a grin that disturbed most people around him. The Sith Lord encircling Prost was a Human Female, with dark red lipstick and dark circles surround her eyelids, she wields two curved lightsabers. Tiva faced an Human male who was bald and had yellow eyes and a definded jawline.

Tiva was the first to ignite her lightsabers, thrusting herself towards the male Sith and striking at his head - but was blocked by his lightsaber. He turned to the offensive and took a right turn, cutting the light above and letting it fall, striking Tiva's foot. She gasped as rhe pain went through her but she lifted the light and threw the light at the Sith, knocking him through the door onto a narrow halway. To Tiva's delight, two Jensaraai Warriors had overheard the fighting and approached the room. They ignited their white blades and begun a three on one duel. Tiva was able to strike the Sith's leg, leaving a limp on the floor. He screamed in agony as he fell to the ground defeated.

"Pleaseee....We were sent here...to do our job" pleased the young male, raising his hand in defeat.

'Who sent you, Sith!" questioned the Jensaarai Warrior named Onsera, shoving her white blade in his face.

"Caaa.....Caa.....Camira" he gasped before collapsing on the floor, dead.

"Who is this Darth Camira?" asked Tiva, putting her sabers on her waist. The two Jensaarai shrugged in confusion. They then double backed to the Communications room, where the two other Sith Lords laid dead, with Master Sarlin on the floor, groaning.

"No, no, nooooo!" cried Tiva, running to the wounded Jedi Master. Prost laid next to him, holding his head as he breathed lightly. He had a lightsaber wound that pierced the heart, and was unrepairable. Tiva grabbed his left hand and kissed it, "Let the Force be with you, Master."

He nodded before turning to Tiva, "Tiv-a, I believe in you. Follow your destiny, young one," he then fall over, said a few dying words to his counterpart before becoming one with the force. Dasha laid there crying beside a vengeful Tiva, who stood up and pressed her comlink,

"Get us back to Sundari now!"

[Aserais]

Jensaarai Starship, En Route to Susevfi

“Possibly,” Sesudj responded without looking up from the datapad in her hands, occasionally scrolling through the light novel that she had pulled up in preparation for the few hours that they would be in hyperspace. She was keeping her senses attuned to the Sith, which is why she hadn’t bothered to look up when he spoke--she had already known he was coming to.

Honestly, the fact that he was already conscious again spoke volumes about how tough he was. She had been on the receiving end of Guardian Puar’s Force Lightning, and it was no picnic.

“Though that will be for the Saarai-Kaar to decide. You might like her, even. She’s nicer than Guardian Puar,” she admitted, her violet eyes glancing up from the datapad to glance at the Sith.

“Your master must really hate you to send you this far into our territory by yourself. What did you do?”

Marur felt his jaw clench for a moment until it stopped, even a minute movement like that still sent aches throughout him, but his annoyance grew at the disregard that Sesudj was giving him. Was he not Sith? Such a position, even that of an apprentice, deserved greater respect. Her final question bite hard, bringi his thoughts to a halt.

"Failed her" he admitted, his voice coarse "And failure requires punishment..." his voice trailed off, realising he had a golden opportunity to learn of his enemies "Saarai-Kaar? Those are Sith words, but yet you do not appear to be Sith, why is that?"

The Ratattaki scoffed at the mention of failure requiring punishment, rolling her eyes at the ridiculous notion.

“Sounds like a good way to lose yourself a perfectly serviceable learner because of one mistake,” she said, looking back down at the datapad in her hand. The more she learned about the order that her teacher used to belong to, the more she understood why their empire collapsed despite not having much competition.

She looked back up at him at the question, surprised that he cared enough to ask.

“We are students of Sith philosophy. Also Jedi. And everything in between,” she explained as she set the tablet down on the small table to her left, turning slightly so that she could face the Sith and he could see her properly. Her helmet had been removed, and he would be able to see her dull grey skin and the purple tattoos that ran from the corners of her eyes and down her face, terminating at the corners of her mouth, with a line of parallel dots running up her forehead.

“We seek a true understanding of the Living Force. Something that both the Sith and the Jedi fail to grasp,” she said pointedly.

“My Master demands...demanded perfection. Failure obstructs perfection" he replied, turning his face to the floor "Mistake's begin to add up" he added, looking up at the figure began to speak. He was surprised to see a Ratattaki behind the helmet, his own experience of them had been concentrated to pirates and an assortment of criminals, but never a force wielder. The Jensaarai were full of surprises.

"The Sith do not misunderstand the Force" he replied, straining his voice to sound matter-of-factly "It is used for power, to make us strong. The philosophy is for the Jedi, who can spend their years debating it, but it means nothing if you cannot wield it as a weapon"

“Knowledge stagnates without the strength to act,” she said matter-of-factly, “and power blinds without the serenity to see. You see? Neither are wholly correct.”

Sesudj grinned and leaned back in her chair, crossing one leg over the other as she regarded the restrained Sith in his cell. The ship they were on was a relatively small frigate, the Mediator, and only had one cell for holding prisoners. The rest of the ship’s space was taken up by crew quarters for the 100-man platoon it carried, along with the batteries and hyperdrive, so she had been left to guard the interior of the cell while two Droidekas guarded the outside, ready to roll in at the first hint of trouble.

She knew that even restrained, a Sith was a threat. Puar had impressed that fact upon her well. But if she got him to lower his guard, she may be able to learn something about him.

Maybe learn whether or not he could be taught

“There is a balance to all things, Sith. Being a slave to your emotions is no better than ignoring them.”

"I am no slave" Marur replied, anger stinging his throat "I embrace my emotions, that is how I become powerful, that is how all Sith get their power. Those that are controlled by their emotions do not last long"

He paused for a moment, reaching out with what little energy he had gotten back, trying to feel for a presence, and found it. The ever shifting disturbance that was the Cathar.

"Your Cathar master likely knew that, until he disgraced the Empire with his treachery"

Sesudj laughed at the notion of Puar “disgracing the Empire,” rolling her eyes before she picked up her datapad again and went back to reading.

“When Guardian Puar joined the Jensaarai, there was no Sith Empire. It had torn itself apart, again, like it always has and always will,” she informed him.

“And you don’t embrace your emotions, Sith. I sensed it in that fight--you throw yourself into them, use them to fuel your power to the exclusion of all else. Nothing wrong with enjoying a fight, or getting angry and using it. But you don’t do that,” she commented.

“You allow your anger to build and build until you can hardly see. It makes you powerful, sure, but it also makes you sloppy,” she said. And at this, she glanced pointedly at the stump that remained where his hand had been previously.

“No wonder the Sith have never managed to defeat the Jedi.”

"The Jedi are worms," he spat "Their continued existence is the source of ill fortune in this pitiful galaxy. They hide away from their emotions and combat, like the cowards they are."

His remaining hand was clenched tightly and shook violently, his yellowed eyes glaring at Sedudj.

"My predecessors were weak, they did not share my Master's vision. They lacked the will to do what is necessary, and perished because of it."

“I’m sure they did. And I’m sure your master is different than every other Sith throughout history, who all failed at the task of eliminating those worms. That’s why she threw away a relatively powerful apprentice on a whim, sending him to do a fool’s errand without warning him what he’d be getting into,” she droned sarcastically, rolling her violet eyes again before bringing them to bear on the red-skinned Zabrak.

“And I’m sure that the Sith philosophy is right to the exclusion of everything else. Because if it wasn’t, that would mean that all of your power and might is bluster, that only lasts so long as you have someone strong enough to hold the Sith together through your petty squabbles.”

She turned her eyes back to her novel at that, before letting out a huff and setting the datapad down again. The stupid Sith made her lose her place.

“You know the worst part about it all? The Jedi are just as bad. They’re content to sit in their temples and let the matters of the galaxy pass them by until they arrive on their doorstep. The Saarai-Kaar was right. The galaxy needs us, before you idiots tear each other into nothingness and leave the rest of the universe to pick up the pieces.”

"Our war with the Jedi is our natural state of being, even one that claims to use both can see this. If not, then the Sith and Jedi would have passed into legend long ago..." he replied, frustrated at Sedudj's tone, but he went silent following her last words, his mind pondering this Saarai-Kai.

"But this Saarai-Kai...'Learned One'...she sounds like she would excel as a Sith. Wishing to bring order to the Galaxy...she replaces one conqueror, but she would be a conqueror all the same"

Sesudj chuckled at the idea of Alaata being a conqueror and shook her head, an amused smile on her lips.

“You do not understand. We aren’t conquerors. No one was ever forced to join us--we all chose this. We have found that, presented with an option that is not pure asceticism or petty evil and corruption, people more than often choose the middle ground,” she said.

“The Saarai-Kaar simply wishes to offer a third option. The Mandalorians have already embraced us. How long do you think the Sith can keep their grip on their students when there’s an option that isn’t being an emotionless monk?” she asked.

"One wonders if the Mandalorians would have chosen the Jensaarai when they were at they were the greatest martial force, cutting Jedi down by the hundreds." Marur replied "Death Watch does not seem to be the type that agree with Mandalore's current path"

"But the Sith have survived millennia, we have survived even when faced with certain destruction. I do not fear for the Sith's survival, there will always be those who desire absolute power, they could lead even the Jensaarai if they could find their way to power, as we have done to countless worlds."

“Sure, buddy,” she said finally, settling back into her chair and picking up her datapad once more. The Sith was intransigent, and she had her answer--more than likely, he could not be taught.

“Just relax. We’ll be at the temple soon enough.”

[Newrey]

The Mediator, Marur

Marur left the Rattataki's final words alone, he had not anticipated a lesson in the Jensaarai's philosophy, especially from the one who had him under guard, but yet, even as he tried not to dwell on what she had said, he could not help himself. The years of training under Darth Vayne, instilling in him utter devotion to the Sith, to her, were fighting a losing battle in his mind.

"Your master must really hate you" she had said, and the words had managed to find their mark. It was true that there was no love lost between Vayne and her apprentices, something that she had purposefully done to drive up the competition between them whenever she began to show favouritism to any of them, but Marur had started to believe that maybe that the ice in her veins was an exterior at best, a means to maintain a reputation, that maybe she no longer viewed him as a tool, but it seemed that he was wrong. She truly held her apprentices upon stings, threatening to cut them when they inevitably failed her. And now it was Marur's turn to be disposed of. He let out a soft laugh when he realised his disappearance would be used as a warning against whoever took his place. He wondered if he survived, if they would be sent after him.

But the Rattataki was right, the Sith was cyclical. It would rise to astonishing heights of power that it would be without equal, but that did not matter. All one had to do was wait. Wait for one Darth to get ambitious or a let a grudge fester too long, eventually it would fall and the Jedi, the wretched Order, would rush in and take its place, forcing the Sith to hide like rats. That was how they had found Dathomir, how they were almost extinguished when the Night Sisters did not take their intrusion kindly, that's why Marur was given to the Sith, as part of an eternal debt between the Night Sisters and the Sith, to supply their force sensitives in exchange for their continued survival. Perhaps the Jensaarai had a point, that this petty evil could not last. He knew little of the Jedi, other than he hated them for opposing the Sith, it made it easier to hate something that he couldn't understand, his knowledge limited to the defeats they had dealt the Sith that Vayne had taught him. He realised that his conflicted emotions were growing and found to suppress them, least the Rattataki sense it and know she'd gotten under his skin.

His thoughts were interrupted by the news that they were approaching Susevfi, the home of the Jensaarai. A feeling of anticipation began to course through him, if the Rattataki that guarded him were so committed to their philosophy that she would discuss it with a Sith, then he looked forwards to see how their leader would react to it. After all, she did say he he might like her.

[Ovesa]

THIS IS AN SNN SPECIAL REPORT

[The following message is an audio excerpt from Darth Glasyr's announcement to the Mandalorian Confederation.]

Good people of Mandalore, on behalf of the Sith Empire, allow me to say that I am sorry for your loss. The death of Master Sarlin was a horrible tragedy that should have never occurred. A group of renegade acolytes led a reckless and unprovoked attack on your leader, an action that the Empire did not condone, orchestrate, or approve of. I promise you that I will personally ensure that the renegade Sith who orchestrated these attacks will be brought to justice. If nothing else, I am a man of my word....

Broadcasted by SNN: Your trusted Imperial news source.

Hyperspace

"Why Dromund Kaas? Why now?"

Glasyr's voice was grave. "The Council is heavily divided, especially after what happened at Hypori. To put it bluntly, we need to gain their support, or the Empire is doomed to fall into ruin."

Shaal was conflicted. Couldn't she accomplish more by her Master's side? "An apprentice on the Dark Council is unheard of. Didn't they object?"

"You're right, the Council did initially object. However, due to these unusual circumstances, they have granted you permission to attend in my place. You should be proud, Shaal. Being a part of the Dark Council is an honor that very few Sith earn."

She didn't feel honored; she felt afraid. In all honesty, it would be been safer for her to return to Mandalore than to go to Dromund Kaas as part of the Dark Council.

Darth Glasyr sighed. "Everything will be alright, Shaal. If you need any assistance, you can always contact me."

"When can I leave?"

"...your stay on Dromund Kaas will be indefinite. You won't be alone; I have some old friends in the Council who can help you during your time there. And, like I said, I'm always available to contact."

Her heart sank, but she understood the importance of her mission. "Yes, Master. I understand." The world was changing so rapidly, Shaal could only hope that she could keep up...

Dromund Kaas

Hundreds of ships flew overhead the grey, angular cityscape of Dromund Kaas. Sith banners hung high above the masses, on every tower, wall, and billboard, as the millions of citizens below scurried through the streets like ants. On the street corners stood B1 battle droids, directing traffic and waving to children. A Sith B1 could easily be identified by a distinct pattern found on their head and chassis: A black diamond with the Imperial insignia at its center, painted red.

There was no shortage of places to explore on Dromund Kaas; shops, restaurants, libraries; if you could imagine it, it was there. So many places to explore, so many experiences just waiting to be found. Sadly, there was no time to explore; Shaal had a meeting to attend.

Occasionally, members of the Dark Council would host fun, light hearted meetings more akin to galas; music and laughter and conversation would ring out like a heavenly call as drinks were shared and memories were made. Today was not one of those meetings. Solemnly, the Dark Lords sat at a long durasteel table tainted with deceit and apprehension. At the helm of this lovely ensemble was a Sith Pureblood by the name of Darth Khyron. "I am here today on behalf of our Emperor, who is unable to attend today's meeting due to more pressing matters."

A low murmur swept through the Council. It was an open secret that the Emperor had been battling health issues over the past few years. Each month he became more and more reclusive, but to not attend the Dark Council?

A brash voice remarked; "Where's that little hound of his? Mordon, was it?"

Darth Khyron glared at the insolent Sith, who apparently had some sort of death wish. "It would serve you well to speak more wisely, lest you wish to join the ranks of Darth Solein."

Shaal anxiously glanced at the empty chair three seats to her left. Solein was an old friend of Glasyr, a like minded Reformist who had worn his heart on his sleeve. Shaal had heard rumors that he had attempted to incite rebellion within the Council, but now her suspicions were confirmed.

It was unheard of for a non-Darth to be part of the Dark Council, much less an apprentice. Shaal could sense the apprehension and resentment, and it was suffocating. Everywhere she looked, Shaal could see daggers in their smiles and hatred in their eyes. Here she was, a sheep among wolves, with no help in sight.

Darth Khyron cleared his throat. "Now then, let's get back to business."

With a flick of his wrists, he summoned a large holographic screen, displaying dozens upon dozens of reports from across the galaxy. They were all talking about one event; the attempted assassination of Duchess Tiva.

"As you all know, our relations with Mandalore have been less than optimal, especially after the Hypori incident. Thanks to this unauthorized attack on the Duchess, we now face a difficult reality. Imperial intelligence has recently confirmed that Mandalore and its allies are preparing for war."

More murmurs spread through the group. Shaal, overwhelmed with dread, spoke with a fearful heart. "But Darth Khyron, doesn't Mandalore understand that those were rogue Sith that were operating against the will of the Council?"

"To be frank, they don't care." His voice was abnormally flat and cold, with an authorative overtone. "Mandalore's leader has suffered greatly during the past weeks, at the hands of Sith incompetence, and now she seeks retribution." Darth Khyron eyed the room attentively, with a sharp gaze. "And that will be her downfall."

Incompetence. That word stung Shaal as it rang out in the metallic room. The events leading up to this were stepping stones into a world of chaos. Mordon's clumsy leadership of the Death Watch initiative, which resulted in the death of an unarmed non combatant who was beloved by the people of Mandalore. The Massacre of Hypori, a necessary fight that decimated relations even further. And now, the final nail in the coffin, some insurgent acolytes attacking the Duchess, and somehow killing a Jedi Master in the process.

If any of those events had occurred on their own, war probably could have been avoided. But now it seemed that an official declaration would only be a matter of time. Decades of stability, all crashing down in a matter of days: it was surreal. Peace was truly a lie, there was only passion.

Darth Khyron continued. "We know that Camira is the one behind the attack; what she is attempting to accomplish is beyond me. However, tracking her down will be nearly impossible. It's highly unlikely that she is still in this system. I advise all of you to prepare your respective worlds for the days to come. It's only a matter of time."

As inevitable as this conflict appeared to be, Shaal knew that Glasyr would not stand for this idleness. With only an ounce of courage, she spoke up. "So we're just going to let this 'Camira' destroy decades of stability in a matter of days without any repercussions?"

"You have already done that yourself." Darth Khyron sneered. The rest of the Council stood by, dead silent. They dared not make a single sound. Khyron broke the silence; "This meeting is over."

Shaal dragged herself out of the conference room with her head hanging low. The meeting was a disaster; it was clear that the Dark Lords viewed her with nothing but contempt; to them, she would always be Glasyr's errand girl, and nothing more.

Dromund Kaas's Lower Levels

Shaal was not the type to frequent bars, but after her first meeting with the Dark Council, she needed to find somewhere to unwind and relax.

Spades seemed like an ideal location. It was a quaint little bar with live musicians and soft, gold lighting. The waitstaff was made up entirely of B1s, with bow ties around their necks. Best of all, it was far below the surface world, far away from the Council and its politics.

Shaal sat at the bar, masked by a brown cloak. The monotonous drone of fluorescent lights was drowned out by the sounds of chatter and freeform jazz.

As she was sitting at the bar, she suddenly felt a strange, dark presence enter the building. She froze; whoever this individual was, they were an alarmingly powerful user of the Dark Side...

[Azanaire]

Drumond Kaas

Camira was one of the most ruthless insurgents that were in line with the succession of the Imperial Throne. She had left Korriban after the murder of her mother in an attempted coup, which could have been prevented by Emperor Kiolan, her father. It had been years since her leave disrupted Drumond Kaas's usual occurrences, with her acolytes regularly assassinating reformist and rouge Sith for almost a decade now.

Camira had dyed her hair a dark maroon red to alter her appearance while on the Sith Capital World, to avoid capture and execution by the inadequate Dark Council. As she played with her hair, she grabbed a robe and wore it, and began her trip to a local tavern that her acolytes and her use on multiple occasions.

As the former Crown Empress entered the tavern, she had sensed something was out of place. Someone did not belong here. She took a deep breath before smiling at the bartender and sitting on a barstool next to a mysterious woman. She nodded at the bartender as he gave her a glass of exotic juice. She sat there timidly waiting for this outsider to present itself as the jazz music boomed in the background ...

[Davincia]

Saleucami

With the hull of his shuttle singed from blaster fire, President Firgis waited for a solid minute before extending the ramp onto the hangar floor of the Liberty. He was the first to take foot on what felt like solid ground, scanning the room for hints of danger. His advisors chose to stay behind and "guard the ship" as they put it. A blaster pistol hung from the president's hip tightly. Deep down, he hoped that it would not be necessary to use it. In that moment, however, Firgis was shocked to see a Jedi standing before him in the aftermath of a battle. He was no match for a Jedi, and that is why he did not trust them.

"I apologize for the unexpected arrival," he said plainly. "But I come before you in peace. I am the leader of the IMT, and I must ask if this ship is headed for Mandalore."

[Azanaire]

the Liberty, Above Salucami

As Master Uniq looked at the cautious President of the IMT, she spoke up in a calm tone, "President Firigs- welcome. Sorry about the mess and the space battle. We are on the way to Sundari as you speak, Mr. President. Please follow us to the bridge so you may contact the Sundari Governate about your arrival."

Master Uniq smiled and gestured towards the western corridor...

[Intellectual Beauty]

Snip

[Ovesa]

Dromund Kaas

Shaal was left speechless by the mysterious woman who had elegantly slid onto the chair next to her, with her dark red hair that just so perfectly reflected the gold-yellow light that shone overhead. She carried herself with a dignity and grace that could easily captivate a room.

Typically, Shaal was not one to spontaneously socialize, but something about this mysterious woman deeply compelled her to do so. What should she say? Desperately, she wanted to say something, anything, but the words just wouldn't come out.

One of the B1 staff members noticed Shaal's anxiousness from across the way. Silently, he signalled her for her attention, before giving a thumbs up as encouragement.

With that extra boost of confidence, Shaal finally turned over to the woman and spoke. "Do you come here often?" Not the smoothest line to start out with, but what did she have to lose?

[Azanaire]

Drumond Kaas

Camira had taken a couple of sips when she heard the woman next to her ask her if she was a regular here. This was the outsider. Camira turned her head towards the young woman and smiled,

"Well, hello! Yes, I always try to support these- uhm small businesses you see. My name is Zakira, what is your name malady?"

Camira had lied about her name, but she knew if she had been honest, the woman would have tipped the police. She gracefully took another sip of her juice and awaited a response.

[Ovesa]

Dromund Kaas

The woman who identified herself as Zakira proved to be a sociable person who was accepting of Shaal's initial advances. Shaal wasn't known for her spontaneous conversations, but she was already off to a great start. She smiled warmly. "I'm Shaal, it's nice to meet you."

My lady? No one had ever called her such a thing before. It was... oddly nice, in a way.

Shaal was normally in touch with her intuition, to an almost frightening degree. But she ignored any and all negative signs she was subconsciously detecting. After all, this Zakira seemed to be kind, and she had such a lovely smile...

"I'm here on Dromund Kaas for work reasons. Imperial citadel, petty politics and whatnot. How about you?"

[Sao Nova Europa]

The Dominion was mobilizing for war. For the first time in decades, the old, bureaucratic regime was swept by renewed energy. Energy to grow beyond its borders. Energy to expand in the name of the Emperor. The imperial government began the construction of two military facilities, one large and one medium. It was there where the production of warships would commence. Emperor Maximilian IV envisioned a whole fleet of starships ready to advance forward to broaden the frontiers of the Dominion.

The man responsible for the whole operation was Wayung Zheng, a middle-aged scholar-official with a degree in macroeconomics. An ambitious, workaholic man, he devoted himself to ensuring that every aspect of the operation would be managed properly. "The shipyards of Hoth and Bespin will become the symbols of Dominion strength! We shall prevail!" was his fiery speech.

[Intellectual Beauty]

Snip