Private Blunted | Kyric

[Xeykard]

Kyric ​

The medical station had a strange atmosphere about it -- a mix of patriotic fervour and the truth of war. Kiffu was far from the front, but so devastated were the facilities on Coruscant and the Core that some were still brought so far from the battle to be treated. Some were lucky; others were rich, brought closer to Fondor, closer to what was 'safe'.

There was nowhere in the galaxy to be truly safe from the Sith.

Xeykard passed confidently through the station, past Alliance personnel and soldiers without so much as catching a glance. His visit to the Core had been productive enough that he could disappear for a time. Despite the freedoms granted by the title of Grand Inquisitor, his responsibilities tied him down just as much. He had produced results for the Dark Lord; he would continue to do so.

Never had he had the opportunity to spend so long in Alliance space. More than ever he saw weakness fester, masses upon masses of the fleeing, the desperate, the undisciplined. They called it victory over the Dark Empire. Xeykard watched a trillion defeats flee from Coruscant to every corner of the Alliance.

The wounded and sick here were no different. But it was precisely that weakness he would utilize. A route to the Lightsworn -- likely the only one that would not see anyone killed immediately.

He reached the room and opened the door. The Jedi laid in bed, yet recovering.

"Careful, Karis," he said, stepping inside. "This is no place to leave your guard down."

 

[Kyric]

When the door opened to reveal a 6'11 barabel, Kyric took it pretty well. He didn't say anything at first–no screams of fear or shouts of alarm. The boy studied Xeykard with his remaining eye, almost as if he were searching the creature for an answer to an unknown question. That continued for the better part of a minute. But the kiffar was never one for patience, so he lifted a baby carrot from a nearby tray and unceremoniously threw it at the barabel.

Only after it bounced off the giant lizard man did Kyric appear alarmed.

Oh, chit.

That's real, huh?

Unlucky.

Kyric's remaining eye fell to the mass of bandages wrapped around his right side. The lack of the corresponding eye didn't make the process any easier. "I was hopin' I was havin' some sorta vision," Kyric admitted. "But you're definitely real, and you have that psychic stench of someone who just got finished killin' a group of kids." He studied his hospital room for the thousandth time.

A long window covered the wall to his left, and the only other exit stood across from the transparisteel surface behind the Slizard.

"Man, you really caught me with my pants down." He raised his left hand and rubbed away the sleep from his eye. The limb was covered from fingertip to shoulder with jagged, lightning-like scars. "How uh... can I help you?"

Xeykard ​

 

[Xeykard]

Kyric ​

"This one hasn't killed any children in over a month." He pushed the door closed. A wave of his hand, and the blinds for the room cut any view in. He moved to the end of the bed, standing still for a moment. He put his hand out, and to it flew the baby carrot; he returned it to Karis with a light toss.

That the boy was still looking for an escape spoke to the soundness of his mind. Xeykard did not waste time gloating over how surely the Jedi would be dead if he desired it; Karis was smart. So was Xeykard. That was why he was here, and not foolishly approaching any other in the Lightsworn's number.

"This one has use for you." He drew from his cloak a small tube, and threw it on the bed. "These are encryption keys for Kainite and Sith military communications. Valid for a month, perhaps more."

He grabbed a chair and sat. It creaked under his weight. "Eat. You are more useful healthy."

 

[Kyric]

"How reassuring..." Kyric muttered in mock suspense. He shook his head in a sharp, almost neurotic manner. The quips weren't going to see him through this, so he turned his focus back on his guest and their behaviors. Their manner of speech aligned with the only other barabels the kiffar had met thus far. As did his cold reptilian eyes, and overwhelming size.

Xeykard dwarfed Kyric. He couldn't imagine going toe-to-toe with an entity over a foot taller than him with razor sharp teeth while healthy, let alone in the boy's current condition.

"This one has use for you. These are encryption keys for Kainite and Sith military communications. Valid for a month, perhaps more."

Kyric caught the tube and studied it closely with his cobalt eye. "I'm in luck. The last set I made off with from Kaas expired while I was out cold," he set the container down beside his meal.

"Eat. You are more useful healthy."

"You don't have to worry none 'bout me, stranger," his tone carried little venom. The boy didn't seem to have it in him to hate. "I try not to generalize, but you Sith types aren't known to act altruistically. You want somethin' from me. What?"

Xeykard ​

 

[Xeykard]

Kyric
​

"Access to the Lightsworn."

He decided a straightforward approach was best. The way most Sith wound their schemes a million times, cloaked their intentions in the strangest language -- it was beneath him. It was beneath even this Jedi.

"This one intends to strike a most deadly blow -- your enemies are not so different from this one's. Solipsis and his lackeys are immaterial, but for all the Alliance's strength, they fester like an infected wound on this galaxy. They will wither before they can deliver this one vengeance.

"This will be a simple transaction. This one will provide you information to act on against the Sith Order. You will act. Dress it up how you like. Betray this one, and there will never be any victory for you."

 

[Kyric]

Kyric considered the barabel's words.

Working with a Sith in any capacity would certainly cause quite the stir wherever the kiffar went. His family had a rather strict 'no dark sider's at the dinner table' policy adopted after decades of facing their atrocities head on. Bogan's chosen could not be trusted. And even if Kyric had all but ingrained that truth into his psyche, his father's words echoed throughout his mind.

"Promise me you won't be me, Kid."

Ryv Karis didn't work with Sith.

Even if it meant cutting down his fellow Jedi, Kyric's father did not accept help from the Crimson Shadow. The late Sword's war was fought through the efforts of those most broken by the actions of the Sith Empire, and their equally horrific predecessor, the One Sith. No amount of trust placed in their abusers would make such pains go away.

But times were... different. More chaotic.

Two Dark Lords laid claim to the mantle of Sith'ari, battling for supremacy in the Shadow while delivering rampant and unparalleled death to the Light. Their servants milled about like starved beasts. They fed on the scraps left for them by their betters, infesting the galaxy like maggots in their unending need for strength.

Death awaited Kyric on every planet he visited, but the boy had hope–hope that the Lightsworn would pierce the darkness at the heart of the galaxy and cut down Darth Solipsis once and for all.

It appeared even the Sith saw use for such a keen blade.

"I can't very well deny you, so I'll play along," Kyric said aloud. "What's first on the agenda?"

Xeykard ​

 

[Xeykard]

Kyric
​

"Your impatience is more Sith than Jedi," he said.

"This one requires a simple task of you. There is a book, of the Jedi Romi Jade -- it details the ability to resist great pain. Acquire it, and bring it to Charred Divide on Elom in exactly two weeks. Ensure it is in a wooden box as you transport it. Speak to none of your mission."

He rose again. "Heal quickly, young Karis."

 

[Kyric]

Kyric chuckled at Xeykard's initial statement, but said nothing. The boy's impatience was something of an issue he could not ignore. Already he lost an eye., and given his most recent dream, the kiffar believed more than just his vision hung on the line.

"Acquire it, and bring it to Charred Divide on Elom in exactly two weeks. Ensure it is in a wooden box as you transport it. Speak to none of your mission."

"You're givin' me more time than I expected. I s'ppose I can't complain." Kyric shifted into a more comfortable position atop the cot.

If Elom was where he would meet Xeykard, Kyric would operate by that calendar. Twenty six hours a day meant 364 totals hours until the expected drop-off. The likelihood the medical staff intended to clear the boy for departure anytime before then was next to none, which meant he would have to get creative.

"Heal quickly, young Karis."

Kyric found his one-eyed gaze drawn back to Xeyard. "I'll see ye when I see ye, I guess."

Xeykard ​