Private Birds and Cages

[Varys Amun]

BIRDS AND CAGES
Subterrel ~ Sith Order Space ~ Kaila Irons ​

-

'You're from Dantooine?'
'Elek. I mean yes. Amun Steading.'
'Lyka Amun is head of that settlement, no?'
'Yes. She's my mother.'

After hours of questioning, Varys had finally been allowed to leave the starport. She had expected to be stopped, but nothing she had read had prepared her for the grilling she'd received.

Mandalorians were rarity in Sith territory these days, Varys had realised, even those from the clans loyal to the Sith. Worse, many had abandoned their culture, their language, and the tenets of the resol'nare to better fit the mould of their masters. With her beskar'gam proudly displayed and her thickly accented, stilted Basic, Varys stuck out like a sore thumb. To compound the problem, Varys soon realised there was another reason for all this extra attention. As the freighter she had bought her way onto descended to the rocky surface, a great fleet was circling above the city. The Sith home fleets, returning from Echnos, where Varys herself had recently been. They had stopped at Subterrel for supplies and repairs before they would make their way back to Jutrand. It was rather unfortunate timing for Varys.

This was a dry run. A sort of proof of concept for an idea that had percolated in Varys' head since the horrors on Echnos. If she could establish a consistent means of entering and living in Sith space, she could try to help the people who lived here, try to meet the tenets of the Butu'r be Ucara. She had selected Subterrel as a relatively quiet, industrial location for her to test out her plan. Now, it would be crawling with Sith. So far, Varys had not been caught. She had arrived on-planet safely and without compromise, but everything else had been a disaster.

Varys had thought she had known what she was doing taking on the Pillar of Sacrifice, and she had not made the decision lightly, but nothing could prepare her for the sheer isolation she felt. Varys' training wheels had been removed, only days after the worst horrors of her life so far. Though she was not excommunicated, she could no longer lean on the support of the clan, no longer lean on Clan Kryze's name and influence. That meant sourcing her own food, lodging, credits. That was not going well, and she spent most of her nights freezing in her tent, hungry and exhausted.

Ni ucara ner yaim'la. Varys thought to herself.

Varys stepped out of the shelter of the starport into the rain. Subterrel's main mining colony was not famed for its weather, and Varys' arrival on-planet had been heralded by a winter storm- a deluge of icy sleet, howling winds and low scudding clouds blocking out the pale sun. She looked around, unsure. Rain ran down her helmet, and mud caked her boots. She had no idea what she would eat, where she would sleep. In this weather even if she could find a quiet spot her tent would be washed away. Stars, this was miserable.

 

[Kaila Irons]

"How long will the repairs take...?"

"Engineering estimates a day or more, ma'am"

"Bloody hell..."

Darth Anathemous would return the trooper's datapad as the trio made their way towards the checkpoint. It had been a long few weeks leading up to this moment, having been given temporary command of security operations in Echnos city immediately following her promotion. There was no fanfare in that hard won Sith victory, no ceremony to formally recognize her ascension to Darth and certainly no celebration. Whatever flexibility or newfound freedom she could have enjoyed for that momentous occasion was quickly snuffed out by the burden of additional duties. Worse even still, she had no one else to blame. It was a good plan she had suggested to the Empress, and quite thorough. It was only right that she be the one to see it through.

Once the hiding alliance agents had been found, then it was on to cleanup and repair. She'd done everything she could to benefit the people of that city despite- no, because- of the part she'd played in their suffering. Broken ships were scrapped to repair vital systems such as communications, reactors were substituted for power generators destroyed by alliance special forces, and the rations once belonging to soldiers who had since perished were given to civilians when no one was looking.

Even the ship which brought her here was not spared entirely, forgoing proper maintenance in favor of higher priority assets. But now she was here on Subterrel, and not bloody Jutrand where other Kainites were waiting to take her home.

She didn't even greet the man at the checkpoint, only flashed a holographic symbol from her vambrace as the trio passed him by. He knew what it meant, and so the security gate opened for them before it did for anyone else. They marched right past Varys Amun and several others, all of whom the masked figure seemed to ignore initially, not until they were several paces ahead of the checkpoint.

"Ma'am?" One of the troopers turned to regard their superior, who had stopped abruptly in her tracks to glance at the crowd over her shoulder.

"I think I want to have a look around. You two are now on shore leave, go find yourselves a nice cantina"

The two troopers glanced at one another before bowing their heads and hurriedly searching for the nearest bar.

Anathemous continued to glance about the crowd for but a moment, having already noticed what appeared to be a Mandalorian even before she stopped. Mandalorians were unusual to see in imperial space, true, but not unheard of. Apollyon the Betrayer for example had been one of the empire's most successful leaders under the emperor of the time, Darth Carnifex, ultimately winning the Shadow Crusade which prevented Mandalore from reestablishing government until the Protectors arrived over three decades later.

Yet Anathemous had not seen one in person before, not since killing her first during the siege of Echnos. Seeing one here made her instinctively fiddle with the beskar in her pocket, the piece given to her by Carnifex. The one which bore the Nite Owl of House Kryze.

She did not know from what clan this Mandalorian hailed, nor would she know the history behind whatever name they bore. Rather, it was their helmet which drew her gaze. The warrior she killed bore a T-shaped visor, flanked in sky blue and gleaming silver. This one's paint was of no consequence, but her Visor. She knew that visor. And yet she could not remember why. She could never remember when she bloody needed to! Why were it's angular slits for eyes so familiar? Why did it haunt her so?

She looked away, gloved hand shaking until she stuffed it beneath her cloak and stepped away, walking around a street corner nearby, planting her back against the wall and taking a deep breath. This feeling had only come about her once before, the closest she had ever come to remembering a life before her injury.

But why here? why now?


Varys Amun

 

[Varys Amun]

While Varys stood contemplating her life choices, a Sith-Imperial squad arrived at the gate. Varys watched on as casually as she could, barely moving her head to keep the soldiers in her view. She resolved to get off the main street as soon as they'd passed. Clearly too much attention here.

One of the soldiers passed by only a shoulder's breadth from Varys, and the distinctive markings of his armour made the hairs on her neck stand up.

They were of the old guard. The Kainate. Servants of the God-Emperor Carnifex. The man who had almost killed Jenn Kryze , who was known as The Butcher King. The man Riela Amun, Varys' own grandmother, had sworn fealty to at the height of the Mandalorian purge. Varys knew that all Sith were pitiless monsters, but among them, in her heart, Kaine's ilk were her greatest enemy.

Leading the trio was a woman. From her armour, the way she carried herself, and the saber worn brazenly on her hip, it was obvious what she was.

A Sith, of the kind that had humilated Varys on Echnos, overpowered her so completely, and left her a shivering shell. Still the long shadow of... Whatever had happened in the domed city followed Varys like in her waking hours, and visited her in her dreams.

Varys tried her best to seem apathetic watching the group split up a short distance ahead, the two soldiers continuing down the main strip while the woman disappeared around a bend. In reality, cold anger burned in her gut. She would have to learn to quash that feeling, if she was to remain here, or else find a way to direct it into something more useful than fantasizing about gunning them all down in the street.

She breathed out a sigh and got moving. Making good on her decision to ditch the main road, Varys turned the first corner and walked through an alley lined on either side with rusting mining tools.

Varys had been so intent on keeping her head down, watching the mud stick to her boots, that she hadn't noticed the figure linger at the other entrance. She inhaled sharply and stopped in her tracks. It was the woman. The Sith, close enough that she could see the scuff marks on her armour. She seemed... Upset.

Varys took a step back, but it was surely too late. She must have seen Varys coming. Stupid. Careless. Her brain scrambled for options, but she couldn't think of anything useful. She should have kept walking, should have pretended like she couldn't see the woman at all. Instead, she stayed rooted to the spot.

Kaila Irons ​

 

[Kaila Irons]

Truth be told, she could feel the Mandalorian long before she entered the alleyway. Anger, hate even, was an unmistakable taste to Sith. What few realized was that it empowered them in the same way it weakened Jedi, strengthening their connection to the dark side while it bled the force and washed away the light.

She could feel this fury which burnt icy hot much like her own, and she was pretty sure it belonged to the Mandalorian. It would surely be directed at herself and her guard whose uniforms most definitely declared their loyalties for all to see, and Kaila's with it. Or at least, one could assume them. That cold fury began to move, separating itself from the crowd, and the life force from which it originated could be more easily sensed, it's rough direction more clear to the sith's senses.

But... why was it approaching her?

Her answer came in the form of footfalls grinding to a halt at the opposite side of the alley. She slowly turned her head to face the Mandalorian, much like an owl scanning their surroundings from the shadows cast between moonlight. Yet she was otherwise still, back never leaving the duracrete wall, the cloak wrapped around her entire body never rustling, arms remaining crossed beneath.

She just looked at the figure for a moment, observing.

They appeared to be a woman from what she could tell, judging by the profile of her tensing shoulders and the placement of muscle mass. And not one who planned for this encounter. If she had intended to fight the sith in this alleyway, she wouldn't have frozen so, nor would those fingers be so far away from any weapon.

Kaila would tilt her head, realizing they might have been avoiding this very encounter, only to walk right up to her. How ironic.

"Hm. Not force sensitive then...?" She mused aloud, her voice modulated by the beaten and scratched mask she wore, new weld marks visible where a sword had broken it during the fighting on Echnos.

"You would have felt my presence here, avoided it even. Or come better prepared, at least"

Then Kaila stepped out of the shadows and into the center of the alley, fully facing the Mandalorian now. Her foot steps were utterly silent, a dueling skirt masking movements made with a practiced grace that gave her the appearance more of a melancholic spirit which hovered across the ground, rather than a woman. Yet she never drew her weapon, never tried to summon the force against what anyone else would assume to be her enemy.

"What brings you so far from Mandalore, I wonder" She made a point to use the common name for that place as opposed to Moridinae as her master had renamed it.

She wasn't looking for a fight, not when she had so many questions left to ask. Although if the Mandalorian wanted one, she could certainly oblige.


Varys Amun

 

[Varys Amun]

"Hm. Not force sensitive then...?"

The armour-clad figure spoke, modulated words spilling from her like trickling blood. Varys' skin prickled and she tensed involuntarily.

Force sensitive? No, she had not been cursed with the affliction that seemed to plague more and more people in the Galaxy every day, turning their hearts from the matters of ordinary people towards a never-ending conflict between the forces of Light and Dark, whatever that meant. No, Varys was blind to the Force, and gladder for it.

"You would have felt my presence here, avoided it even. Or come better prepared, at least"

At that, the tension that had been bubbling in Varys gave way to cold fear. At a whim, the Sith could choose to cut her down, or call for the assistance of her guards, imprison her. Varys would fight. Of course she would fight. But without a doubt, if it came to a struggle for life and death so far from her home, her people, Varys would die in the mud.

"I don't want any trouble." said Varys in thickly accented Basic. That was true. Her only intention here was to find a place to settle down for the evening, and later, establish Subterrel as a place to operate, one of a few locations she could rotate between a few weeks at a time, while she figured out some way to get credits whilst staying in Sith Order space.

"What brings you so far from Mandalore, I wonder"

"Manda'yaim is just a symbol." said Varys carefully. "I have never seen it. I was born on Dantooine." Varys was careful not to lie too much, except through omission. She had heard many times that the Sith could easily see into the hearts of their subjects, sense their deception.

"I am of Clan Amun, vode loyal to the Sith'ari Himself. Vassals of Lord Carnifex." She was quoting from the charter of her Clan directly, the two-generation-old document that Varys was taught to know by heart since she was barely walking.

"I am not an enemy. I'm seeking bounty work for the Order." Varys lied, slipping into her cover. She bowed her head respectfully. "I'm looking for a dry place for the night, maybe somewhere off the ground I can pitch a tent. Do you know a spot?"

Varys held her breath, waiting for the ignition of a saber that would signal her end.

Kaila Irons ​

 

[Kaila Irons]

Well then! This one actually quite entertaining. All that anger, all that hate seemed to wither. And in it's place?

Fear.

Fear and Kaila were old acquaintances by now. It was one of the only feelings her master could inspire besides broiling hatred in her veins, and what fears he had not instilled, The Phobis did amply. And yet, here she stood. She had learned to conquer those fears, or most of them anyway, and for the for the first time in her life, people recognized her for it. They saw her! They welcomed her.

And now, people feared her.

Especially this one, for whatever reason. Such a splendid change of pace! She might have even savored it were she any other Sith. In fact she was quite sure this one would be in a lot of trouble were she someone else. Fortunately for the Mandalorian however, Kaila was odd even far as sith were concerned, and this chilling sense of uncanny familiarity radiating from the armor-clad warrior was fascinating as it was concerning.

"I am of Clan Amun, vode loyal to the Sith'ari Himself. Vassals of Lord Carnifex."

Or at least, they were fascinating.

"Ah, a... fellow Kainite" She said almost apathetically, believing the lie initially.

"I haven't heard anyone call Him Sith'ari in quite some time..."

She was actually quite disappointed, wanting to spend as little time with her master's sycophant and zealots as possible. She couldn't trust them. Never again. Although the more she thought about it, the more reasons she had to distrust the warrior beyond merely serving her master. If she served her master. It seemed odd to think that there were clans loyal to him even now. Death Watch was defeated, scattered so badly that even she couldn't find them, and finding things was her bloody job.

But more importantly...

If they were both Kainites, why was she still so afraid? How ironic, that both of these women were more than they let on.

Perhaps she should play along for now, see where this leads. Maybe she could learn more about Mandalorians in the meantime.

"Very well, warrior of Clan Amun" She began, bowing her head ever so slightly in greeting.

"I am Darth Anathemous, Dark Lord of the Sith, Governor of Echnos. Apprentice, to Darth Carnifex" She added the full credentials, hoping to draw a reaction from the Mandalorian. The thing about Kaila was that she could be sadistic like her peers, it just manifested in playful but otherwise harmless antics when it suited her. She had no intention of harming the Mandalorian if she did not wish to fight her, but that didn't mean she couldn't play with the infiltrator in other ways.

"It's rather fortunate that you happened by, actually. I've been meaning to brush up on my Mandalorian studies. I have so many questions"

This warrior of Amun would not be spared an interrogation. Just of a different kind this time.

"Come, I'll take you to an Inn and you can answer them along the way"

She gestured to the road with a gauntleted hand, the first time she'd moved since their encounter began. It was empty however, Varys was spared the sight of her lightsaber for awhile longer.


Varys Amun

 

[Varys Amun]

"I am Darth Anathemous, Dark Lord of the Sith, Governor of Echnos. Apprentice, to Darth Carnifex"

Varys' breath caught in her throat. The Sith's words landed like dual blows. She was the apprentice of the very man Varys had just claimed to serve, and obviously she'd made some sort of faux pas calling him the Sith'ari. Wayii, she barely even knew what that meant. If this woman was the apprentice of a man so renowned and powerful, she must be very, very dangerous.

But it was the other thing that really threw Varys. This woman, this Anathemous, was the Governor of Echnos. She must have orchestrated, or inherited from, the carnage that occurred there. She must bear some responsibility for the trap that was sprung in the domed city, banking on the Alliance's thirst for blood. She must be a monster. Some sort of device, capable of breaking the will of a thousand warriors in an instant, Varys included. And she had been part of it.

Reluctantly, Varys inclined her head back in response to the woman, making sure she bowed a modicum lower than the nod she'd received. Varys would need to tread carefully, stroke the woman's ego, play along, if she had any hope of leaving Subterrel.

"It's rather fortunate that you happened by, actually. I've been meaning to brush up on my Mandalorian studies. I have so many questions"

"Come, I'll take you to an Inn and you can answer them along the way"

Okay, all she had to do was stay calm. Right now, the Sith was like a hunting creature, playing with its catch. If she wanted to live, Varys would have to make sure she didn't bore her, and convince her that she was either not worth the effort of killing or that she deserved to go on her way. If the worst came to it, she would try and jam her javelin through Anathemous' throat before she got a chance to stand up out of her chair.

"I am pleased to go with you." Varys said stiffly. "I will follow."

Anathemous opened her arm, gesturing for Varys to follow. Dutifully, she fell into step behind her, marvelling at how in the minute or so since the Sith had first appeared on the street, everyone seemed to have returned to their homes. That was the power of fear.

Varys followed the woman silently. A calm had settled over her. There was nowhere to go but forward. She had no other options, so she didn't worry. They entered a building. Varys took the offered seat. She stared at Anathemous, helmet-to-helmet.

"Burc'ya, what do you want to know?"

Kaila Irons ​

 

[Kaila Irons]

It didn't take long to find an Inn this close to the spaceport, though being a dreary little mining world with little else going for it, the establishment was more like a bar that eventually expanded it's operation to host new arrivals. It was dimly lit and mostly quiet aside from the low thrum of music that allowed it's patrons to discuss their business in private.

The kind of place Anathemous was used to frequenting during her years in the field.

Amidst the small crowd of pressure suited spacers and masked aliens, She and Amun would blend in seamlessly, receiving few looks if only to take note of the Mandalorian's armaments, even the largest denizens deciding to simply avoid encountering a follower of the warrior creed, especially given that she came with such mysterious company.

Anathemous lead her to the far end of the bar, picking a booth with direct line of sight to the door in case they needed a quick exit, or were followed by individuals even less savory than herself. Just a cautious habit instilled by a life that the Mandalorian no doubt understood just as well.

"Burc'ya, what do you want to know?"

Her visor never seemed to deviate from an empty stare towards the warrior, even as she sat threw her cloak over one shoulder to sit down, exposing the black surface of reflec coated armor that reflected what little light it could, and toned arms tightly bound in the sleeves of a slick bodyglove, ending in mismatched vambraces.

And of course, within reach of a pair of lightsabers on each hip, one of which was wrapped in a dark red cloth similar to that of Nightsister garments.

"Burc'ya..." She echoed softly.

"Something along the lines of friend, if I'm not mistaken? Yet, I cannot recall ever learning your language"

There was a moment of quiet contemplation spent searching in vain for memories that were long gone. Amun had asked what she wanted to know, but the perhaps the better question would be, what didn't she? There were so many unknowns still, so questions she did not even know to ask yet, and so few answers even after so long.

"What do you know of Krownest...?" She finally settled on a place to start. The very beginning of it in fact.

"I've been curious about the clans there since before I was Sith"


Varys Amun

 

[Varys Amun]

There was no mistaking Varys and Darth Anathemous for a pair of friends out for drinks by the spaceport. Varys sat, rigid and upright. She kept glancing at the door, but there would be no leaving until the Sith said so. Her armour glimmered, dark and featureless. In her visor, two of the bar's overhead lights were reflected, such that it seemed like the woman had a pair of glowing, glaring eyes. Varys set her jaw, and settled into the questioning.

"Burc'ya... Something along the lines of friend, if I'm not mistaken? Yet, I cannot recall ever learning your language"

Varys let out a forced laugh, thankful the woman could not see her mirthless eyes. Something about the pronunciation. So perfect. And yet she slipped right back into neutral basic. Said she knew nothing of Varys' culture.

"Mando'a is hard to forget." Varys said carefully. "You probably know more than you think." She was beginning to feel like she was being played. As she sat back, she thought back to Echnos. There was no way any of the vode at that battle were calling out to Anathemous as "Friend." When would she have heard such a thing? Perhaps a Rook, or an Eldar, or another of the scattered few who still blindly swore loyalty to their Sith betters.

Varys frowned, wondering what other dealings this unapologetic Sith previously had with her people. A new feeling mingled with her fear: curiosity.

"What do you know of Krownest...?"

"I've been curious about the clans there since before I was Sith"

"Krownest?" Varys asked. "One of the Mando'ade heritage worlds. I have never been, but, there have been many conflicts there." And it has been plagued by Sith. Varys thought. She was careful to keep her voice as neutral as possible. She was telling the truth, though. Her knowledge of the Mandalore sector was through oral histories, old compendiums, and stories shared around the fires of the Clangrounds. Varys intended to go, one day, but deep down she knew a pilgrimage to Manda'yaim would only serve as a distraction from her duty.

She went on.

"It depends what you mean. If you want to know who lived there in the past, the Wrens, the Saxons Many others. Now, it is home to the Crusaders." Varys clicked her tongue disapprovingly. "So that would be... Mostly the Fetts? But the Crusaders are united by conquest, not family." Varys nodded to herself once, unaware that her explanation would mean little to someone unfamiliar with Mando'ade history and clans.

"Why do you ask? Do you know someone there?"

Varys knew it was stupid to pry, but she couldn't help herself. Why was this Anathemous so interested in a place far away, where she would never be welcome?

Kaila Irons ​

 

[Kaila Irons]

Curiosity and Fear were the baser of all emotions. Oftentimes, Fear stems from what we do not know, and from the desire to make things known, to combat fear, one derives curiosity. Anathemous and Amun were quite similar in that regard, even if the exact values were disproportionately balanced for the time being.

For her part, Anathemous was the most curious of the two, and Amun was fearfully indulging this most chief desire that often drove the sith in her day to day pursuits. Although, that curiosity seemed to grow as she leaned into the table with crossed arms, Visor to Visor even still as she absorbed every detail one could glean from the face of Mandalore. Which is to say, very little. Instead, what clues she could gather came from the warrior's voice and careful choice of words. It sounded somewhat monotone, reminding her of many an apathetic soldier in the Kainate, their true emotions carefully suppressed so as to make room only for discipline and droid-like courage, giving everything, down to their very humanity, to their Sith'ari.

Was Amun like them, then? Sacrificing herself to a cause? Apathy is death. And it is a slow thing.

Or perhaps she was suppressing emotions for a very different reason.

Another thing struck her as odd however, much more so. Why such clear distaste for the crusaders? They were certainly problematic, more so to non-mandalorians, to Aru- Arueti- Hmm. Regardless of whatever outsiders were called or may think, Were the crusaders not a strong embodiment of the Mandalorian people? Especially as a Mandalorian loyal to The lord of domination, would she not respect their strength in some capacity?

Nevertheless, Amun began to name several clans, and she listened with vested interest.

Wren, Saxon and Fett.

"Mm. Fett is familiar to me, if only through the clone wars" She sighed, disappointedly reclining in her seat. Amun would not see it behind the angular, near Y-shaped visor, but her eyes would drift to one side in thought.

"Why do you ask? Do you know someone there?"

"...not quite"

It was a question she'd asked herself many times.

"There was a hospital on that world, when the empire still occupied it. It's probably gone now, destroyed by one of the three regimes to claim that world since then, but I remember being treated there by Imperial soldiers many years ago, before I was ever Sith."

It was hardly enough to go on, even less so without important context which she had chosen not to speak of for pride sake. It wouldn't make this stranger any more likely to help her if Kaila explained her troubled past, or perhaps lack thereof.

"I also remember..." She delicately pointed to the Mandalorians visor, carefully drawing a Y-shape in it's likeness as if she were a witch drawing runes, casting an accusatory curse.

"Your helmet is familiar to me, yet I cannot explain why. The only one's I've seen recently enough to recall were straight and narrow, but yours is different. So angular, yet it belies a soft, feminine quality. How curious"


Varys Amun

 

[Varys Amun]

Darth Anathemous was contemplative. Varys had not known the woman long enough to say if it was unusual or not, but to her it there was something weighing the Sith down. She would hang on Varys' every word and then lean back in obvious disappointment when she didn't hear what she wanted. At times, Anathemous stared into space, lost in thought. The whole thing was making Varys nervous, but she pressed on, eager to know what the Sith woman sought so badly.

"...not quite"

"There was a hospital on that world, when the empire still occupied it. It's probably gone now, destroyed by one of the three regimes to claim that world since then, but I remember being treated there by Imperial soldiers many years ago, before I was ever Sith."

Varys tilted her head. The questions Anathemous was asking drew a dotted line around something the woman seemed unwilling to voice; that she did not remember. Varys didn't know if that was common amongst the Sith, but she didn't think so. Still, she kept quiet, unwilling to expose her own lack of knowledge.

"I'm sorry. I've never heard of such a place."

She felt a strange pang of sympathy for Anathemous, grasping at straws with strangers over some hint of a memory. Then, Varys remembered Echnos, who this woman was, and her sympathy faded.

"Your helmet is familiar to me, yet I cannot explain why. The only one's I've seen recently enough to recall were straight and narrow, but yours is different. So angular, yet it belies a soft, feminine quality. How curious"

Varys paused for a long while, wondering if this was some veiled hint that Anathemous had known who whe was the whole time. But the woman didn't move. Her voice had seemed genuine so why...?

Varys cleared her throat.

"It is a less common helmet these days. But the design has a long history." Varys explained. "Have you heard of the Nite Owls?" They have existed in many forms for centuries, but usually have a connection to Mandalorian Clan Kryze. It is just a helmet, but to me, the shape is a symbol of resistance against oppression, of turning from conquest, and fighting for the good of all Mando'ade." Varys smiled softly as the words left her lips. But her expression faded to dismay as she realised she had completely contridicted the story of her alliegance to the Sith. How could Anathemous believe Varys to be a servant of the Kainate when she said such things? Grimly, she continued.

"You can find the shape anywhere now, some even wear it just because the shape is feminine and evocative, but today these helmets are most commonly worn by a few clans." Varys counted them out on her fingers. Despite her nervousness, her explanation was eager. "Clan Kryze, mostly. But also House Solus, Ruus. Some Vizsla's." Varys trailed off. She'd had an idea.

Varys placed her hands on the claps to her helmet. "Would you like to hold my buy'ce?"

She leaned back.

"I'll give you mine if you give me yours."

Kaila Irons ​

 

[Kaila Irons]

Solus?

Solus.​

​

Solus.​

Solus.​

Solus.​

​

Solus.​

​

Solus!​

​

Stand down. that's an Order!​

"Solus."

She heard them. she heard them all. A name shouted over gunfire. A name spoken spoken softly as if by a mother to her child. A name spoken proudly by warriors newly risen. A voice spoken with quiet contempt by a commanding officer, then in fiery agony. It was all so feint, like the psychic echo of ghosts in the night, long dead, long forgotten. Was it the force again? A premonition guiding her towards the whims of uncaring fate as it had on Brendok not so very long ago. Or was this something else? Something darker?

The silence had been unnaturally long. A part of her realized this, gaze slowly shifting up from the table towards the Mandalorian as if she were blinking awake from an unnatural slumber. She rubbed the backs of her gloved hands, something clearly wrong yet she could not tell why.

"Would you like to hold my buy'ce?"

She leaned back.

"I'll give you mine if you give me yours."

Kaila blinked behind her mask, the words slowly beginning to register in her mind.

"You would do that...?" She questioned, concentration recovering, unrealizing as she normally would have that such a gesture would compromise both their defenses, not merely the Mandalorian's.

"Are you... sure?"



Varys Amun

 

[Varys Amun]

Varys sat still, all humour having vanished from her demeanor. One hand rested on the helmet, which was positioned on the table just in front of Varys, its slanted 'Y' visor turned towards Anathemous. Her dark hair hung limply in front of her face. Her expression was stony. She had offered the helmet as a sort of olive branch, and an equaliser, but the Sith was obviously deeply affected by something. Anathemous disappeared to another place. She stayed silent for a long, long time, watching the helmet with an intensity made inscrutable by her mask.

Varys was not the most perceptive person by anyone's standards, but even she could see the woman was deeply disturbed. Varys looked into her dark, wondering what she was actually seeing, as it was obvious enough to Varys that the Sith was staring through her.

"Solus."

A thought surfaced up in her mind, one that at first, Varys dismissed out of hand. There were stories, traded amongst Mandalorians who grew up in the shadow of the Sith Empire, regardless of their alliegances. At night, when the Alor, and Alor'ads had retired, and only the troubled and wakeful sat by the dwindling fire, they spoke of a terrible crime.

The story went, that in the disorder after the collapse of the Empire, the Alliance turned from the Mandalorians left behind in the Galaxy's eastern reaches, shifting their attention to a new foe. But the Sith were not gone. They recovered in the Galaxy's dark corners, then returned to reclaim their vassals, and the Mandalorian Clans, their position so precarious after the dark years of the purge, some of them had to make a difficult choice. They give up their kin, quietly, secretly, without ceremony, to appease the masters who stalked the dark forests beyond their camps, to avoid annihilation. Of course, there was never proof. No vod would acknowledge they had betrayed their people so completely as to offer up one of their own to have their entire culture, their identity, stripped away. Varys looked at Anathemous curiously. Maybe even their memory.

The tale had always haunted Varys. She remembered being a young girl, waking up in the middle of a cold Dantooine night convinced the Sith were coming to take her too. Where better to poach from than a Clan already allied to them? But no Sith had come as long as she had lived there, and gradually, people stopped talking about the stolen ade, and Varys slowly forgot the story.

Varys visibly shook her head. She was freaking herself out for no good reason. In all likelihood Anathemous was some confused Sith whose programming was malfunctioning. Even the suggestion that the apprentice to Lord Carnifex herself had some secret Mando'ade past was frankly absurd. She was tired, and scared, and overthinking.

Still, she needed to see what the woman would do with the helmet. At the very least, Varys told herself, it would be easier to stab her in the throat once she realised the reason Mandalorian armour was so familiar was because she had slaughtered so many mando'ade.

But, in her gut, Varys knew that would not be it. There was more to this. She could feel it, and it seemed nobody, least of all Anathemous, could tell her what that was.

"Are you... sure?"

""Elek. Yes. I am sure."

Varys pushed the helmet the rest of the way towards the woman and then stopped.

"If you give me yours." She repeated.

Kaila Irons
​

 

[Kaila Irons]

The Mandalorian was younger than she expected, much younger in fact. Truth be told, she otherwise had the girl figured out. Probably a Kryze, given her slip, and certainly no defector. She had thought to play their little games until it no longer suited the sorceress' needs, perhaps turn her in or extort her once she knew all she wanted.

But now, staring at her little face, how could she do that to a mere child?

And equally as important, who the hell sends a child to a place like this? Were their people just bloody mad?! Were they the barbarian animals her master painted them as?

Everything about today was wrong.

But as she stared into that visor, something about it at least felt right. Well perhaps not right, but familiar at least.

"I..." She looked up at Amun hesitantly, then at the helmet again.

"Very well..."


Kaila nervously reached up with gloved hands, slowly lifting her own helm away. Wavy hair fell across her shoulders like rolling fields of grain first, silken and blonde but tousled from all that time hidden beneath cortosis. Then more came into view as she pulled the heavy thing away, soft lips, and fair skin stretched across the chiseled face of a human or near-human that looked much too young to be burdened with the wars of Carnifex, nor command such fear as she had. Darth Anathemous was a young woman still, probably in her twenties, maybe 24 at best.

It was her eyes however that were most often cause for alarm.

In the dimly lit bar, they burned with a fiery corruption of the dark side, Golden like the sun and shining like distant stars. They shyly stared at the mask initially as she set it atop the table, feeling naked without her ward. But when they looked up at Amun, they did so with an observing curiosity that could just as easily be suspicion.

"Take care of it, please. It's rather brittle" Her voice was soft now, if slightly scratchy, and carried a practiced imperial accent.

Then she slid it gently towards the Mandalorian, attention diverted to the opposite helmet soon after. She traced leather-clad fingers delicately across it's surface, feeling each indentation and every scratch.

If Amun were to observe the offered war mask, it would appear to be a deceptively simple thing, devoid of technology save for a vocal modulator, and small ports in which to connect the hose of a breath mask in an emergency. The reflec coated surface was riddled with scratches and deep scarring that told of numerous battles, each revealing the rust-brown color of brittle Cortosis, raw and unalloyed, and welded back together several times.

Most curiously however, the traditional sith design also bore new features, deviations from it's predecessors.

The visor if one were to look carefully or even though it, featured a subtle T-shape where it's single slit design curved into a narrow point in the middle, and it's cheek were indented in such a way that should have been familiar to the young mandalorian.

It was subtle, but it was there, hiding subconsciously beneath imperial features.

Hiding behind a mask.



Kaila flipped the Mandalorian's helmet over, gazing at the padded interior and technology inside, leaning in for a closer look.

Lifting it just a little closer...



Varys Amun

 

[Varys Amun]

Varys looked forward, her face turned slightly upward so that she could look directly into Anathemous' featureless mask. She drummed the table restlessly. The woman looked at her for a long while, something Varys was beginning to realise was pretty usual for Anathemous. Varys' heart was racing again. She'd made a risk, overextended herself in order to push Anathemous into taking the helmet... For what? She didn't really know, but it felt right, so she'd trusted her gut.

"Very well..."

She sat very still, and tried to keep her face emotionless. But Varys could not stop her eyes from widening when she removed the dark helmet. Several thoughts crowded for space in Varys' mind when she did. She was surprisingly pretty for the apprentice of the Galaxy's greatest monster, and she seemed younger than she'd thought, maybe only a few years older than Varys herself. She was sharp in features, but her demeanor was sombre and understated, almost gentle.

When she opened her eyes, they shined like yellow sulfur flames, glinting in the lamplight. Her, expression was complex, unreadable.

Varys was momentarily enraptured, and she had to force herself to close her mouth and wipe the look of shock that had briefly crossed her face. Instead, she lowered her head, ostensibly as a sign of respect, but also to hide her expression from the young Sith woman. Varys held out the helmet a final time, placing it gently into Anathemous' hands.

"Take care of it, please. It's rather brittle"

She cocked her head upon hearing Anathemous without the voice modulator, smiling slightly despite herself. Her voice was soft and clipped, the kind of thing that wouldn't be out of place in the Sith-Imperial propaganda films her mother made her watch as a young child.

"Ni tigaanur ulyc. I will treat it with care."

Varys accepted the offered black helm. As instructed, she treated it gently, frowning the the strange, crumbly metal visible beneath the nicks in the armour's coating. She turned it over in her hands. Varys had no idea what it was made from, or why its design was so strange and impractical. Varys imagined taking the helmet to the Clangrounds for Jenn to inspect and give a long diatribe on the inferior craftsmanship of the Sith's blacksmiths. Not for the first time that day, Varys felt a pang of loneliness.

Varys ran her fingers along the cheek-plate of the helmet. It was unlike any helmet she had seen before, but there was something unmistakable and evocative about its design.

"Has anyone ever told you this almost looks like a Mandalorian helmet?" Varys wondered aloud. "Not quite, obviously but-" She pointed to the visor, the cheeks. "Close enough."

Varys looked back to Anathemous with a raised eyebrow, but the woman wasn't looking at her. She had turned Varys' helmet around, was looking down into it, as if...

"You should do it. What you're thinking." said Varys. "You should put it on."

Kaila Irons ​

 

[Kaila Irons]

"Has anyone ever told you this almost looks like a Mandalorian helmet?" Varys wondered aloud. "Not quite, obviously but-" She pointed to the visor, the cheeks. "Close enough."

The sith blinked, having trouble taking her eyes of the Buy'ce even as she glanced at Amun, looking as if she'd woken from a trance. Even she wasn't sure what was happening, it just felt... natural.

"Yes... The other apprentices, I- I tried to tell them it was an accident"

It was not a fond memory, being told by her fellow students that her newest and, at the time, proudest creation, reminded them of their master's arch enemy. But they were all gone now, they couldn't hurt her anymore.

But to hear it from a Mandalorian? She couldn't ignore it anymore.

"You should do it. What you're thinking." said Varys. "You should put it on."

She glanced hesitantly between the helm, Amun and back, face scrunched with uncertainty like a child being dared to do something their father would surely scold them for if they knew.

Yet, she did.

The sith slowly lifted the helm over her head, those golden eyes soon vanishing beneath it's descent as the empty black visor overtook them, her own vision darkening just a little as the world became but a glimpse from the window. But as the HUD lit up in response, feeding information to the young darth in a runic language that should have felt so alien, yet seemed so strangely familiar, she was overwhelmed by just how different the world looked now.

Her breath grew heavier, sounding as if it were filtered through cold steel.

And it was in this moment she knew, somewhere deep down, that she recognized this world for the first time in many years. A single tear threatened to breach captivity until she shut her eyes tight, dispersing it to mere moisture before she tore the helm from her face, only to set it down with an almost frightened, deliberate care.

She closed her eyes, taking a quick breath to steel her nerves.

But when they opened, they bore down upon the Mandalorian with a newfound resolve. Finally after all these years, she had her mission. And she knew exactly what she needed to do now.

And Amun was the key.

"I have... a proposition for you" Her words were slow, as if she were thinking carefully before each and every one of them. But this deliberate care belied the urgency and fire beneath.

"You're going to tell me everything you know about this clan... Solus. everything."

"And in exchange," Her grip tightened on the smooth dome of the helmet "I'll give this back,"

"And I won't tell them who you really are... Kryze."


There had been too many little slips for the Mandalorian to go unnoticed, not when Anathemous had suspected her of lying from the moment they first met. She just needed time to figure out what exactly that lie was, and now she had.



Varys Amun

 

[Varys Amun]

"Yes... The other apprentices, I- I tried to tell them it was an accident"

So, Anathemous was a reject of sorts, like Varys. At least, that's what it seemed. She, too, was uncomfortable with her past, where she had come from. If the life she'd known was so hard, it was no wonder Anathemous was searching so intently for what she didn't even remember. Varys wondered what she would be like if she was stripped of her identity, her language, her memories. She wanted to believe she was made of stronger stuff, but she wasn't so sure. At least, Varys thought, she was not afflicted by an affinity for the Force. Even brainwashed and honed, she could never cause the devastation Anathemous could inflict.

Varys held her breath, eagerly watching Anathemous putting on the helmet. Varys sat forward, an elbow resting on the tabletop, unwilling to miss a moment of the show. Amazingly, nobody else even spared the pair of them a glance, as if a bubble had been drawn around them to hide their booth from view. More likely, the people here knew better than to tempt the ire of the Sith with curious eyes.

Not Varys though. She smiled openly as the buy'ce slipped over Anathemous' head, covering her features, but leaving her blonde hair still spilling over her shoulders. It looked silly, and endearing.

"Wayii! It fits you perfectly, echoy'la-verd." Varys grinned. "Ah, imagine yourself in your own beskar'gam! It is not proper to wear another's."

Anathemous went quiet, and Varys' thoughts too turned thoughtful. Unlike Anathemous, Varys did not lift the Sith helmet onto her head. She had no desire to see through the eyes of the Kainate. Besides, it was a perversion of the Mandalorian craftsmanship Anathemous had donned. Why sully herself? But, if Varys was honest with herself, there was more to it than that. She was afraid of the helmet, as if it could transmit whatever sickness had infected Anathemous' mind, to turn her from, from what it looks like, a verd of the mando'ade, into some tortured, unstable puppet of the Sith.

All at once Anathemous tore off the helmet like it was burning her. Varys gave a sympathetic look.

"It is okay. I'm sure there is a lot in your head right now." She reached forward to lay her hand on Anathemous'.

"I have... a proposition for you. You're going to tell me everything you know about this clan... Solus. everything. And in exchange, I'll give this back,"

"And I won't tell them who you really are... Kryze."

Instantly, the smile had fallen from Varys' face, and she snatched back her hand. She swallowed, and didn't speak for a time. Anger swirled inside her, pooling in the muscles of her back, neck and legs, making her tense and shaky. Anathemous clearly had some sort of Mandalorian heritage, a connection to Clan Solus that was half-remembered, and Varys had thought that meant that beneath her polished, shining black armour, she carried the spirit, the ideals of a Mandoad. But now, she had taken her buy'ce, her sacred beskar, offered in grace. She was using it as a bargaining chip, and even worse, holding Varys' own heritage against her.

Briefly, Varys considered simply attacking her, striking with her knuckle-plate vibroblade before Anathemous could move. But, she knew that would never work. Still, she fantisised. Varys clenched her fist. She had forgotten, in her curiosity, in her hope, that she could help Anathemous find the ghost that haunted her past, she had forgotten she was dealing with a Sith. Varys had seen a Mandalorian, but Anathemous was not a Mandalorian. She was the self-obsessed apprentice to a monster. She felt her pity evaporating by the second, leaving behind thick, choking anger.

She let out a shuddering breath.

I sacrifice my hatred.

"My name is Varys Amun. I am of House Kryze. I am a proud verd of the Mando'ade. You are lost, Anathemous, and I will help you, but not because you threaten me."

Varys looked down. If she was stronger, she would have held her gaze, locked with the golden orbs across the table. Instead, she gazed into the visor of her own helmet, resting under Anathemous' hands.

"Solus is a Clan not often spoken of where I am from. They are known. But to be truthful, I know little beyond stories. I have never met a member. All I know is what of the Treaty of Vanquo has been explained to me, that the Solus' were like the Amuns. They found a away to appease the Sith. I know that they are lead by Cynthia Solus , that they have smaller Clans within their House. I know that they live on Vanquo."

"I know that-" Varys paused, unsure how to word it. "I have been told that they gave the Sith their young."

Kaila Irons ​

 

[Kaila Irons]

The shift from Kaila to Anathemous and from Amun to Kryze was sudden as it was jarring for both women, pitting one's true self against the other's instilled persona. She noted the girl's quickly withdrawn hand, averting her gaze for but a moment. She felt like she should feel ashamed, but relentless indoctrination told her that, despite her treasonous offer let the infiltrator go, she was just doing her job as a sith. She needed this, and she didn't have time to befriend a girl who had been lying to her from the start.

Her eyes flicked back towards Varys, jaw clenched as she felt that surge of anger and a desire for violence.

It was ironic perhaps, that a sith should mean less harm than this child, that one of few morals she could positively say she'd not yet abandoned, dictated that she could do no true harm to her, while the only thing stopping this Mandalorian from striking her down in cold blood, no, in a violent passion, was the sith's own power.

While sith were certainly more specialized in violence, Anathemous was not incapable of subduing a foe without killing or even harming then. The girl could have pulled a knife or a gun on her, but she'd have simply locked the limb in stasis or stolen the weapon with an unseen hand. Certainly that is what the young darth believed, at least.

Her fingers raised from the helmet ever so slightly, palm still rooting it in place, but ready to wield her power if need be.

Yet it never came to that, to the sith's surprise.

"My name is Varys Amun. I am of House Kryze. I am a proud verd of the Mando'ade. You are lost, Anathemous, and I will help you, but not because you threaten me."

A muddied-gold brow was raised at this confession. This Varys girl wasn't quite lying, more keeping secrets. She was indeed an Amun, just one loyal to Kryze, who she understood to be the blue-clad warriors her master had faced on Echnos. There were inklings of memories here and there perhaps, but she wasn't fully aware of the complexities that were Mandalorian familial structures and loyalties, though a part of her felt that even the Mando'ade were sometimes confused by the ever shifting loyalties and alliances of their own clan based societies. A bit like sith in that regard, from what little she understood.

Then Varys got to speaking of Clan Solus, and whether the girl realized it or not, what little information she could spare might have advanced Kaila's quest by years. She had a name, a treaty to research, and a planet. That was all she needed, Varys had kept her part of the bargain in a near instant.

"I know that-" Varys paused, unsure how to word it. "I have been told that they gave the Sith their young."

But then she was reviled, recoiling where once she had subtly leaned forward in anticipation.

"Who would do such a thing?!" She stammered in shock.


And then her eyes sank, as a terrifying possibility clawed it's way up from the back of her subconscious. What if Eira was right? What if she couldn't remember her family because they-

No, who in their right mind would sell their child to the archenemy?

She slumped back her in seat, trying to process a great many variables, piecing together new puzzles in addition to the complicated web that was her own past.

"You... have given me a lot to think about. More than you may know"

"Take it," she slid the helm back to it's owner, withdrawing her hand to rest about her chin.

"In truth I've never been interested in pursuing my master's war against your people. I find it pointless, a distraction most cruel. A continued alliance between our people might have saved the old empire, we could have been rid of the alliance by now..."

"To think that I might hate him more than even you" she smiled bitterly at the irony and sighed.

"...what a bloody mess"



Varys Amun