Private Hope and betrayal

[Kasir Dorran]

Corazona von Ascania | Darth Strosius

The invasion on New Cov had unfolded in a manner that seemed to bring satisfaction--swift and decisive. His armor bore the scars of a lightsaber's touch, having carved it's way deep into the bodyglove. Dirt and grime stained other areas of its surface.

The display of strength from the Corpse Legion of Darth Nefaron left little room for doubt. Echoes of blaster fire and sounds of the dying were becoming distant memories as he ventured further from the aftermath of destruction. There was no reason to linger on a battlefield that had served its purpose; the Darkseeker thrived on efficiency

While the taste of victory still lingered on his tongue, he was now driven forward with another sense of purpose. Kasir’s modified 578-R transport shuttle, with the cargo area turned brig, was no longer just a mode of transportation; it was a vessel of captivity. His pale features were illuminated by pulsing lights from the cockpit. Beside him, a droid pilot, executed calculated movements with different coordinates flickering on the control panel before it. With a flick of his wrist, he activated the subspace transceiver. “This is Kasir Dorran,” he stated, his voice low but firm. “Inform the Lord Inquisitor that I will be arriving shortly..with a prisoner.”

After a long wait, a response from the Bailiff Station arrived. The voice was clear. "We have received your message. The Lord Inquisitor is expecting you. Prepare for further instructions.”

As the communication ended, he removed himself from the seat and stepped towards the hatch that opened with a hiss. Proceeding to a narrow stairway, it would lead him down to an expanse where the walls were lined with steel that created a makeshift cell. A faint red glow hummed around it.

He stood frozen in place, his body a shadow against the dim lighting. His gaze fell upon the woman, and he let the silence linger between them. Eventually he stepped forward, leaning close to the energy barrier, hoping to savor any feelings of despair that might be felt in the air around him. The Sith's face was devoid of any emotion. “You fought well," he admitted in a calm tone, folding his hands behind his back. "Your power is impressive, beyond what I expected from a Jedi.” he continued, straightening his stance. “But soon you will learn that peace is an illusion, and power is the only truth that matters.”

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

Consciousness returned to Cora in waves.

Sight came first. She squinted at the durasteel walls, and down to the cold floor, then over to the faint glow of the energy field. Her thoughts came slow and garbled through a pounding headache. It was like trying to think through molasses.

Sensation came next. Maneuvering up from the floor was made more difficult with shackles binding her wrists, and it agitated nerves that were already raw. Pain blossomed from her ribs. Cora lurched forward with a gasp, startled.

Crossing her legs beneath her, she rested with her back to the wall. A hand pressed cautiously along the right side of her torso and she winced. One, maybe two ribs were broken.

Great.

Her eyes fell closed. Recollections filtered in on their own, carried to her on the weave of the Force. With a spark of relief, she noted that she still could feel the Force.

That didn't last long.

An ominous hiss drifted from the top of the stairwell, and her captor appeared. Cora opened her eyes, meeting the Sith's sulfuric gaze as a long silence passed between them. For a while, there was only the hum of the energy barrier.

"Not well enough."

Her voice was edged with discomfort. Frustration hung in the air around her. Frustration at being unable to make much of a difference in what had been a hopeless situation. There was an art to picking your battles, in living to die another day.

With her thoughts slowly lining themselves back up, Cora took a moment to regard the man in front of her. His features were youthful, if intense – and bore the telltale signs of Dark side corruption. Her hand dropped to her hip on reflex, but it grasped only empty space. Her lightsabers had been removed from her person, which made sense. Both the blue blade she'd fought him with, as well as the second hilt tucked into the back of her tunic were missing.

"You sound like my father." There was an edge of disgust in her tone. "I've never known a man obsessed with power who wasn't miserable to be around."

Kasir Dorran Darth Strosius

 

[Darth Strosius]

​

Bailiff Station had no shortage of traffic today, nor did it any day. A veritable sea of motion as shuttles, fighters, and even larger freighters and corvettes docked and launched from it on various journeys and assignments. Most were either training vessels for newer pilots and crews leaving for a short practice flight or simply the usual influx and outflow of cargo and personnel but all were contributing to an extensive yet carefully managed system. Perhaps not perfect but as efficient as one could expect.

Given the flurry of activity one might expect that clearance for docking would take a few minutes at least, if only so that another ship could take off and a space be opened up for said ship, but the clearance and instructions for Kasir's shuttle were relayed within a few moments. It seemed as though the Lord Inquisitor really was expecting his arrival.

The shuttle would be guided by a pair of small tug droids into one of the few open hangars, the ones typically reserved for unique arrivals or Sith deployment and as such was far more secluded than the usual ones meant for cargo or troop transport. The moment that the shuttle touched down, one unusually devoid of the usual maintenance crews at the moment, one of the doors opened and allowed a familiar figure to stride in to the hangar bay.

Heavy robes dragged along the ground, their subtle noise drowned out by the resounding clacking of metal boots making their way across the floor. The masked gaze of Darth Strosius ran over the shuttle as he approached it, not bothering to wait for it's final landing procedures to end or even for its ramp to lower. He had sensed an odd presence the moment that the shuttle had entered the system and the source of it had seemingly just landed. Hopefully his Darkseeker had a very good reason for such a disturbance, alongside a report of the events on New Cov.

Kasir Dorran / Corazona von Ascania

 

[Kasir Dorran]

Corazona von Ascania | Darth Strosius

Every movement in her posture told a story—one born from their duel. Kasir could feel the pulse of her pain; its vibrations lingered in the air. Still, as he studied her, his dark heart was simply a void, unaffected by any suffering. Indifference was the only cloak that wrapped around him now; the Jedi’s struggles were nothing more than background noise.

During the journey back to the Bailiff Station, his mind had been given an opportunity to reflect on recent events. Battle was almost like a ritual for the Darkseeker, an expression of his purpose, clearly no stranger to its constant allure. Yet, Kasir felt no triumph in her defeat; instead, his plans had changed, causing him to navigate down a different path. He did not bring her here out of pity, but as a pawn in a game potentially much larger in scale.

A flicker of annoyance crossed his face as she responded, though it was quickly replaced by the calmness of his demeanor. It almost felt like he was engaging in a conversation with someone who spoke like a rebellious teenager, still grappling with the cold realities of life. "Ah, child," Kasir replied, his voice smooth. "It's clear that your father carried wisdom that wasn’t passed down to you.”

Bringing both hands back to the front of his body, he would then adjust his stance. The piercing gaze remained fixed on the Jedi, searching for more weaknesses. "But I believe there is someone who can… help you come to recognize this," he continued. There was a brief silence as he thought carefully on his next words. “You see, I did you a favor by doing this.” There was a faint smirk that tugged at the corner of his lips. “I could have left you to die on New Cov.”

The 578 transport’s movements suddenly changed, one he recognized to signal their arrival in the hangar bay. The process moved much quicker than what he was accustomed to. His senses immediately picked up on the powerful presence of the High Priest. The aura of dominance was unmistakable. Kasir made way back to the cockpit and grasped the blue lightsaber that had nearly caused his downfall. The second would be left behind, a trophy for the assassin. Returning back to the lower level, there was a final glance towards the prisoner as he inhaled deeply. Finally, he descended down the ramp, which was already lowering.

As he slowly approached the Sith, there was a faint bow of the head before tilting it just slightly to look up at the masked figure before him. The helmet that was once his own, was now gone. “Lord Inquisitor,” he said slowly, acknowledging both his authority and power. “The attack on New Cov was successful, and I was able to witness the strength of Darth Nefaron’s Corpse Legion.” A hand lifted from his side, extending the lightsaber hilt towards him. "And I bring with me a Jedi from the front lines, ready for your...examination.” He filled his lungs with air once more. "This one is different. Her skill in combat surpasses those I have encountered before. With the right guidance, I.. thought she could become a valuable asset.”

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

The Sith's voice reached her out of sync with the movement of his mouth. Her mind was still recovering from being stunned, brutishly powerful as his assault had been.

Cora squinted; one part concentration, one part irritation. Her brow furrowed.

Child?

A strange thing to call her given that he didn't seem much older than herself. Then again, it was had to tell with Darksiders - they could be centuries old and have the eternal appearance of a fresh college graduate.

She clicked her tongue.

"He tried."

For the longest time, Cora had wholeheartedly believed her father's teachings, even when he'd used her as a pawn for political gain. The needs of one could not be put above the collective strength and security of their family - and then her life had nearly been burned up in the span of a year.

The clouds began to break up in her mind. Composure slipped back into her features, smoothing the harsh lines of her scowl. Frustration and careless words were reined in. She'd unwittingly given the Sith a weakness to probe; not the full story, but enough for him to try and exploit that particular crack in her foundation.

She didn't like the way his lips twitched into a smirk. It made a deep sense of unease roil in her gut. The Sith wouldn't do this if he had nothing to gain; when they wore the kindest of smiles, it hid the ugliest of faces.

The transport gave a particular lurch that signaled the craft's descent. With it came a a heavy presence, weighted by the raw power of the Dark.

Cora held his gaze, quiet and stern until he departed with a final glance. The ramp lowered, and from her vantage point she could glimpse a snippet of a mask and hood.

Lord Inquisitor, the ominous figure was addressed as. Her stomach immediately twisted itself into knots.

This is…not ideal.

Kasir Dorran | Darth Strosius

 

[Darth Strosius]

​

The heavy footfalls would stop their march just short of the ramp as it lowered, his arms crossing behind his back as he regarded the other Sith with a slight incline of his head. "Darkseeker Dorran." That Darth Nefaron had been successful was some refreshing and exciting news, for once, which bode well for the war to come. "I expect a more thorough report of his Corpse Legion and New Cov's situation soon then." But of course first it seemed a more pressing matter was before them.

Darth Strosius reached out and plucked up the lightsaber from Kasir, idly examining it in his hand as he listened to the explanation of why a Jedi was now on his station. Or in his system at all for that matter. "She's different hm?" With a subtle flick of his wrist he tossed the hilt up into the air. "Don't tell me that one of my Darkseekers has been..." He caught the lightsaber easily, the emitter noticeably pointed towards Kasir. His hidden gaze seemed to pierce right through the other Sith, unseen and yet so intense that it was undeniable.

"...distracted in his duties. And by a Jedi no less." There was plenty of suspicion evident in his words but no serious accusation nor threat was leveled, the hilt spinning around in his hand to offer it back to Kasir pommel first. "But, if you insist that she can be made useful then I suppose I can spare a few moments to entertain the idea." He moved past the Darkseeker, pausing as their shoulders brushed against one another. "You do recall what I always say about Jedi though, do you not? I don't wish for you to be disappointed by my decision after this little 'examination.'"

The Lord Inquisitor slowly strolled up the loading ramp without waiting for a response from Kasir, seemingly eager to get this particular chore over with. While, like most Sith, he held a disdain for Jedi he didn't possess the same attitude of corruption or seduction to the Dark Side. If he had to break someone's will just so that they would serve him then they were of no use to him. It was no wonder that the Sith of old were so often slain by their own apprentices when their recruitment hinged on Jedi. A mistake that he himself refused to make.

There was no attempt to mask or limit his presence as he stepped into the shuttle, a chill in the air seeming to herald his arrival just as much as his steps did. He wanted the Jedi to know he was here. That she was in his domain. When he made it up the ramp he stopped at the height of it, in the doorway of the shuttle as he leered over at the Jedi. She seemed oddly familiar but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. "Kasir." He cast a glance behind himself as he spoke. "Make your case."

Kasir Dorran / Corazona von Ascania

 

[Kasir Dorran]

Corazona von Ascania | Darth Strosius

The Darkseeker’s head tilted just enough to show his understanding. He felt the steely gaze bore into him; it was like a blade cutting through a veil that shrouded any lingering thoughts. When the time arrived, providing a thorough report from his time on New Cov would surely flow effortlessly from the tongue, a rare respite from the inner turmoil that plagued him when contemplating the Sith Order as a whole. Their practices were almost physically painful to witness; it seemed that Kasir was naturally drawn to displays of brute force and dominance, rather than simple words that so often carried no weight. It was this very driving force that led him to easily extend his services to Darth Nefaron.

Kasir could barely mask his surprise as Darth Strosius' suspicions proved to be right on point. As the toxins drew closer to the very ground he fought upon, he had only a moment to consider his final actions on that planet. With the Jedi’s back turned to him, he rendered her unconscious, rather than taking her life, knowing full well that the Lord now watching him would have preferred the latter. Yet, it wasn’t until this very moment that the weight of his actions suddenly felt heavy.

Finding himself completely silent now, he stood frozen, his eyes locked onto the lightsaber hilt that was now directed toward him, as if it promised a swift and deadly end. As he reached for the weapon, with their shoulders touching, he couldn't tear his eyes away from the floor of the hangar bay. The atmosphere felt thick with tension, the air carrying energy that crackled like a storm.

Only when the High Priest passed him did he shift from his current stance. With a twist of his heel, he pivoted to face the battered 578-R transport. Keeping a small distance, he followed behind, catching a glimpse of the energy barrier that held the woman captive.

“My Lord,” he began, his voice smooth but chilling. The Sith took several more strides forward, now standing at the edge of the ramp. “I understand your reservations. The Jedi I captured is not just a prisoner; she carries untapped potential.”

Still, he was aware that the present situation called for a more straightforward approach.

While his own gaze became more intense, it was born not of disrespect, but of determination. His unoccupied hand gestured towards the cell behind the Sith Lord. "I propose to take full responsibility for her training and the risks that come with it. I can mold her into a weapon. If I fail, I will accept any punishment you deem fit.” As he uttered the last words, a yellow hue flickered in his amber orbs for a brief second before extinguishing.

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

The shuttle hadn't fully recycled the humidity of New Cov's jungle air. It made the distinctive chill Darth Strosius brought with him bite harder.

Cold crystals formed in her blood and surged down her spine. During Nwul's fight with Carnifex - where she'd gotten that scar across her cheek - she'd felt something similar. Something heavy and all-encompassing. Though she couldn't see his face, the Lord Inquisitor was not particularly thrilled by Kasir's capture.

She would not be granted the same level of comfort as she had on Thule.

Cora strained her senses to see if his presence in the Force was at all familiar. There'd been many Sith present at the Golden Covenant's gala, their auras tangled into a mass of dark energy.

An eyebrow went up as Kasir made his reasoning plain. If this Sith was going to bargain for her life - believing that she could be turned - then who was she to argue against her potential for freedom? Perhaps he wanted an apprentice. Perhaps he really had seen something in her. Perhaps it was all a lie.

Keenly aware of her disadvantage, she fell back onto the survival skills picked up while being held captive in a violent marriage of convenience.

Her rise was slow and labored. Bound hands braced themselves on the wall beside her as best they could, shoulder leaning against the same wall to support her weight. A short exhale of strain passed her lips as the pain in her flank flared.

She stood. Shoulders back and head level, maintaining the poise of an aristocrat squarely at the mercy of two powerful enemies. Cora lifted her gaze to the Lord Inquisitor, unwavering.

Silence was her response, but it was not quiet.

Kasir Dorran | Darth Strosius

 

[Darth Strosius]

​

The masked man only offered a small, seemingly unimpressed, hum in response as he peered at the Darkseeker out of the corner of his eye. Perhaps he was correct in the Jedi having great potential, but potential was everywhere and that which was lesser could be made greater with a skillful enough hand. Prodigies were too few and far between to care for when anyone could be trained to best them with enough time and effort. When he mentioned molding her into a weapon though, directing both of their gazes back to the captured woman in question, he clicked his tongue.

"You think it would be me issuing a punishment if you failed?" He chuckled, a rather sarcastic and grim noise as he looked back at the Jedi standing proudly before them despite her predicament. "Kasir my boy, weapons are beholden only to their wielder. A position that can shift and change as easily as a breeze, yet whose change can be as devastating as a storm." Darth Strosius stepped forward and crossed his arms behind his back as he moved to the side of the field and the prisoner within, nodding as though he was the one in control of the display.

"That is the tactic the Jedi perform and the wretched practice that the accursed legacy of Bane employed as well. To make dangerous yet exceptionally hollow beings, tis a sad fate really. But one that can hardly be pitied when the result is so..." He paused and made no effort to hide his gaze as he looked the Jedi up and down with disgust. "...self-righteous in their existence."

Finally he turned on his heel to face Kasir once again, evidently having had his fill of the Jedi for the moment. "You forget our goals, war is a means to an end but it is not our only practice. Jedi live lives of splendor and extravagance in their Core Worlds, they are of no use as Sith. They know no struggle nor hardship, never having felt the chains of slavery or the long nights of hunger with an empty stomach." Disgust and venom was laden into every word as he slowly approached the other Sith, one step after the other echoing as punctuations to his words.

"The only way you can salvage something like them, is to give them that hardship. To bring upon them the lifetime of suffering needed to understand what being a Sith truly means." His visor reflected Kasir's gaze for a few long moments as he stared down at him, letting his words sink in before standing up straight once more and nodding back towards her. "The hand she wielded her weapon in, take it from her."

Kasir Dorran / Corazona von Ascania

 

[Kasir Dorran]

Corazona von Ascania | Darth Strosius

His proposal was quickly dissected, and every flaw was pointed out. Whatever confidence he momentarily felt had quickly begun to dissolve, leaving him vulnerable. It was a rare feeling for Kasir, like a candle flame being suffocated by an icy wind. Rooted in his current position, he absorbed every word as if it were a lesson. Though a mask hid the other Sith’s face, he could feel the intensity of his gaze every single time it fell upon him, which seemed to only grow stronger as the short distance between them began to close. Before long, his orbs began to travel upward, his head tilting up slightly. It was then he saw his own reflection--a younger man who hid all emotion as a shiver of unease traveled down his spine.

However, as the Lord Inquisitor spoke of the Jedi's privileged upbringing, he couldn't help but nod his head in agreement, well aware of the ease and comfort they experienced in comparison to the Sith. It was no hidden secret. He was truly convinced that their easy life in the Core Worlds shielded them from the harsh realities that took place everywhere else in the galaxy.

Kasir had no words to offer. A direct order had been given, and he would not question it. His purpose was like a permanent scar that even a Bacta tank couldn’t heal; he was nothing more than a weapon, a mere extension of the High Priest’s own lightsaber.

Inhaling a deep breath, he stepped to the side and then towards the ramp that led him back into the cargo bay. With a flick of his gloved fingers, he pressed a series of buttons on the control panel upon the wall. The barrier flickered, and before long, faded into nothingness. The makeshift cell was wide open now. He quickly closed in on the injured woman.

While often quick to exploit the vulnerabilities of his targets on whatever task he was given, there was now a feeling of emptiness within. This discovery bothered him, as if all efforts leading to this very moment exposed a weakness he thought had been buried long ago.

As an arm suddenly snaked out towards the durasteel binders that held her captive, his fingers began to tighten around the hilt of the lightsaber now in his possession, already plotting the next move. “There's no need to make this any more difficult than necessary,” he said, his voice a low murmur. After a short sequence, it unlocked, and he removed the device.

The action wasn't a prelude to freedom; rather, it was merely a step towards the first lesson.

It tumbled to the ground with a loud thud, and in the same instant, the lightsaber was ignited. A bright blue glow illuminated the area around them. Kasir was well aware of which hand was her dominant one; he had studied her every move during their exchanges on New Cov.

Grasping her forearm with a firm grip, he drew the blade into the air and swung down in a calculated arc, aiming just below the wrist.

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

The Lord Inquisitor, as it turned out, was not pleased with his Darkseeker's quarry. He soon let them both know why.

His criticism of the Jedi was nothing new – it was expected, really. And though Strosius veered into what she'd call gross exaggeration, parts of what he said weren't entirely untrue. Most lies had a kernel of truth to them. When they grew into something so monstrous that they barely resembled their origin, they would become dangerous. Wars could be won with words as much as they could with swords.

Cora remained still and quiet. Her heart raced beneath her breastbone. A new shot of adrenaline pulsed through her veins at each word, each turn of his heel. Strosius had already decided who she was without her saying a word to him. She was a silent, blank canvas onto which he painted his hatred of the Jedi.

Something seethed under the surface of her skin, a natural urge to challenge his vile words and tear them from out behind his ornate mask. It was kept it in check by the passive mask of her face. Her goal was to survive this encounter, especially when the Sith still seemed to be mulling over her fate. She doubted that laying a sob story at his feet would endear him into leniency.

"The hand she wielded her weapon in, take it from her." ​

The rush of her own pulse filled her ears. The barrier flickered out of existence. The shackles fell from her wrists. Cora pressed herself into the corner of the cell as her forearm was grasped, trying to yank it from Kasir's iron grip.

His voice was almost lost to the hiss of burning blue plasma, a light that reflected the panic in her eyes. The Darkseeker's words weren't cruel, but they weren't an attempt to be soothing, either.

That train of thought came to a swift end as the heat of the sun's core passed through her wrist.

Cora seized. Her entire body went rigid in shock and she threw her her back in a wail of agony. Her knees buckled as she crumpled to the floor, gasping and groaning in a desperate show of pain as she tried to catch her breath. There was no blood, only the sickly scent of singed flesh. Shame and humiliation burned through her. She'd felt it before in the strike of her father's cane, in the blinding heat of the iron her husband had held to her bare skin.

Watery eyes landed on the shape of her severed hand, lingeringly helplessly on the sharp, straight line that had cut just above three of her knuckles. Her lips trembled as she reached out with her intact fingers, tracing along the scar given to her by Darth Malum of House Marr during their encounter on Jedha. What would he say to this, mutilated by her own lightsaber? Would he have laughed cruelly, or simply shaken his head in disappointment?

Cora grasped the hand by the wrist, feeling the bright heat from her saber's edge as it began to fade. The flesh was still warm, still human. Her grasp tightened, her adrenaline surged, and she shot upward.

A lone clap! rang out as she slapped Kasir across the face with her disembodied hand.

Darth Strosius | Kasir Dorran

 

[Darth Strosius]

​

His hidden gaze tracked the Darkseeker as he stepped towards the Jedi, an intent stare that would seemingly only be retracted once his order had been fulfilled. This was more of a test for Kasir than it was for the Jedi he so desperately wanted to recruit in truth. Jedi could eventually be broken down and made to serve, although he wasn't fond of such things for several reasons, but Kasir was far more useful than any prisoner. Willing followers mattered, unwilling ones were simply a means to an end.

Darth Strosius was a silent yet looming presence as the barrier was retracted, the chance at freedom and escape must have seemed nearer now than ever before. Were it not for himself standing at the threshold of the only exit of the ship of course. The struggle was brief but fruitless, a simple and clean maneuver that robbed the Jedi of a hand and that Kasir performed without hesitation. One test was passed and another was given. His gaze briefly tracked the hand as it hit the floor and a small part of him felt a sickening satisfaction at the sight. Retribution had been dealt and he was sated, for now.

The Sith Lord watched the pair of them, executioner and condemned, as the latter reeled in pain and the former stood stalwart. Such a reaction was expected, the first glimpse of hardship often terrified those unused to it. He had seen similar such sentiments written across the faces of crime lords and Outer Rim 'nobility' alike, usually right before their final breath was taken. What he hadn't been expecting to see was the roles briefly reverse as the Jedi plucked up her fallen hand and struck the Darkseeker.

A chuckle escaped the masked man before he could help himself. It was quickly stifled into a snort but there was still a smirk evident in his words for perhaps the first time that day as he spoke up. "Well would you look at that, the Jedi has some fight left in her after all. You might be able to forge a Sith out of her yet." The remark was spoken like a joke, full of hidden bite and yet so riddled with an oddly genuine amusement. The façade of calm and placidity being broken was rather hilarious to him it seemed.

He tapped on the side of his mask briefly. :"Dispatch a medical team to hangar C17, and inform them to come equipped with a prosthetic hand.": His hand fell back behind his back to clasp with the other as he stepped forward and idly seemed to inspect the Jedi again. This time with far more interest than his earlier glances. In particular the scar adorning her cheek seemed to catch his visor's reflective gaze for a long moment before he finally looked back at Kasir.

"I expect regular reports on this one. Recruiting from Jedi is unheard of within Wonosa and for the time-being it will continue to be unheard of until we can confirm that she can indeed be purged of her corruption and reborn as a Sith." The warmth had faded from his tone, back to his usual strict and direct ordering demeanor. "Our people have suffered enough from the hands of the Jedi and their Alliance, I will have no more harm come to us because of your little passion project. If she does appear to have an unquenchable thirst for Sith blood, then turn her towards the Eternalists or Kainites and let her have her fill of them. I doubt she'd be able to tell they're not true Sith."

Kasir Dorran / Corazona von Ascania

 

[Kasir Dorran]

Corazona von Ascania | Darth Strosius

The lightsaber was still humming intensely, and before he even had a chance to deactivate the weapon, he was witness to the woman's quick descent. The once fearless figure who found herself on New Cov playing hero, was now in a position of submission.

In that very moment, rather than the usual rush of satisfaction that came from inflicting pain, there was emptiness that was felt in his core. It was the first time he felt numb to what should've been a thrill. Instead of savoring the agony etched into her scarred face from an act of brutality, it felt as nothing more than a mere chore. Any sounds that left her lips were distant echoes. The Lord Inquisitor had a way of making him feel like a puppet to his own dark ambition. And it would also teach him a quick lesson as he stood rooted in his current spot, a reminder that power without passion was a fruitless endeavor.

His thoughts were torn apart by a sudden slap that cracked against the side of his face, a bold act that jolted his senses. His head snapped to the right as the taste of iron filled his mouth from the lower lip being split open. Had there been a sting from the impact, it was unfelt, for it was nothing compared to the storm brewing within him, one of rage that was now threatening to consume him whole. Slowly, he turned his head back towards the Jedi. Blood pooled against his tongue before he finally collected it, and spat it onto the very space of the cold floor between them.

Laughter from the other Sith only fanned the flames within, sending a surge of fury coursing through his veins. His free hand tightened into a fist. As the words spilled forth behind him, he remained unflinching, his cold gaze trying to pierce the heart and soul of the woman.

The words from his superior registered like seeds being planted in soil, and he simply waited for the chance to respond. But it was not until the very end, when a hint of emotion finally broke through the rising anger. A barely noticeable twitch tugged at the corner of his mouth, as the High Priest mentioned the other doctrines, particularly the Kainite. It conjured an image in his mind's eye; but rather than it being the faces of their enemies, the only vision that conjured was that of Raxus Prime, where mountains of garbage were held in equal value in the eyes of the Darkseeker.

“The well being of our people remains a top priority for me. I will ensure that regular reports are delivered thoroughly and timely.” he said, as if taking a sacred oath, before finally adding. “Detailing her progress. Though, I must confess, I too have felt an.. intoxicating pull towards ending those of weak ideologies that only dilute the Sith Order.” His chin tilted in a display of superiority, daring the Jedi to acknowledge her place beneath him. "Rest assured, Lord Inquisitor, I will not allow this opportunity to slip through my fingers,” he declared, his gaze slowly shifting down to the cauterized stump of her wrist. A single step was taken forward, and he lowered his head towards her. "Try that again," he warned, his tone calm, with a hint of menace, "and I promise my darkness will smother your flickering light.”

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

There were a few long, tense moments after Cora had struck Kasir, where she remained entirely still. Ukatian noblewomen prided themselves on their iron self-control, and her momentary slip-up had the potential to be disastrous.

Sweat beaded along her brow as a bright flush ignited her pale features. When Kasir spat blood onto the ground between them, it was as if he'd spat his roiling anger in her direction, with an expression full of venom. If Strosius hadn't found what she'd done amusing, she imagined that her head would've been the next thing to hit the cold floor.

Her body was reeling, still trying to catch up to the sensations and loss of limb – but her mind now had something to focus on. Confusion.

Cora grimaced as the Sith Lord turned the gaze of his visor in her direction. Still pressed into the wall of the cell, clutching her detached hand and breathing heavily, she looked more akin to a cornered animal than the proud Jedi he'd sought to take down a peg.

He spoke of the Jedi as the Jedi did of the Sith. Corruption. Suffering. The well being of our people? Never had she expected to encounter a Sith who showed genuine care for the lives beneath them. Did they really intend to protect the sanctity of life, or were they protecting them as a farmer would his cattle or tools?

Cora decided that she was still in shock. After it had worn off, she supposed that this moment would appear to make more sense when replayed in a calm, clear mind. Violence and humiliation had filled such a particular facet in her life, but neither Sith seemed to derive any particular joy from her mutilation.

Darth Strosius was filed away into the same category as her deceased husband; arrogant men who protected their power with violence and thought their cruelty justified. There were different sects among the Sith, and didn't yet know if being dragged into Wonosa space was a bane or a boon.

As Kasir stepped forward, Cora pressed herself further into the wall with a pained hiss. His voice, calm with a sting of malice seemed to penetrate more readily now that he'd taken her hand. A shudder trawled up her spine, and she found her voice, raspy and halting as it was:

"You're just as fragile as I am."

She spoke out of observation, bitterness from the pain lacing her tone.

Darth Strosius | Kasir Dorran

 

[Darth Strosius]

​

Darth Strosius watched as the Darkseeker advanced upon his unwilling 'apprentice' and warned her against any further acts of rebellion, a necessary albeit somewhat unsettling warning. He was never one to endorse the idea that an apprentice should hate their master, it was far too self-destructive in the long term. With a Jedi he supposed that he could see why it was necessary but he nonetheless felt unsatisfied by the display. The Heir of Marr was far more familiar with such things than he, perhaps he'd have to arrange for Kasir and this Jedi to meet him sometime.

He opened his mouth to offer a subtle correction to Kasir but she spoke up first and snapped back at him with a bitter remark rather than a physical one. A wise decision. What she said gave him a moment of pause, raising his eyebrow as his gaze flickered to the Darkseeker a moment to gauge his reaction before he spoke up and out of turn himself. "That remains to be seen I suppose, which one of you will break the other first." It was a surprisingly neutral remark, the first that he had made that wasn't directly opposed to her in some way.

"Dorran, you are the one that wanted to take this Jedi under your wing because you felt that she was worthy to be counted amongst the Sith. If she fails to meet such expectations, would the blame be on her for her weakness or on you for selecting someone incapable of the task at hand?" Without missing a beat his hidden gaze flickered back to the woman. "And you believe that you can cling to your Jedi ways without faltering, even so deep in Sith space without any assistance from your insufferable 'Light' to count on. If you succeed in maintaining your horrid way of life then you will have triumphed over your captors, only to wind up on the execution block. If you submit to the ways of the Sith then you'll live, but perhaps not in a manner that you would have ever envisioned for yourself."

In truth the more he thought of it the more that he was starting to find himself invested in this little project. If his Darkseeker could succeed in turning one Jedi then simply killing them wouldn't be the only option, perhaps some of their number could be salvaged and made to properly serve the Force. There was only one way to find out he supposed, a risk that might just be worth taking if it bore fruit. "You can begin your training tomorrow, Kasir. I wish to further discuss some things with you."

A team of medics made their way up the ramp as Darth Strosius stepped back and aside, allowing them to see their corned patient. He beckoned them closer and nodded towards the Jedi. "Clean the wound and see about getting her a prosthetic, administer painkillers as is needed. But do be very careful," He glanced back at her, a strange glint in his visor as he raised his head slightly. "This one bites." The medics didn't seem too bothered by the idea but nodded in acknowledgement of the warning anyway.

Kasir Dorran / Corazona von Ascania

 

[Kasir Dorran]

Corazona von Ascania | Darth Strosius

Squeezing the lightsaber still in his possession, Kasir felt the metal bite deep into his palm, as the Jedi's words echoed in his mind, igniting fury that consumed all reason and logic. The urge for violence upon her, to make her suffer further, continued to course through his veins with each passing heartbeat, as though it were the only language he truly understood.

Fortunately for her, the mere mention of his surname from the Lord Inquisitor had the power to quickly tether the assassin’s thoughts. The cold words, surprisingly, at least aided in suppressing the brewing storm within him, allowing him to finally begin seeing the truth again. And, if he was being honest with himself, the idea of her on an execution block certainly painted a rather pleasing picture in his mind, especially after having just been slapped in front of the Sith Lord he served.

With a single click, the Jedi’s weapon fell silent.

Yet, rather than immediately turning his attention to Darth Strosius, his gaze remained steady, attempting to bore into her with a piercing intensity as if it were capable of cutting through durasteel. It was a look that challenged her to speak out again, daring her to utter another word, an invitation that promised consequences. "If she fails, it will not be from a lack of guidance," he said, each word dripping with malevolence.

The very idea of corrupting one of the galaxy's defenders carried an intoxicating allure; one where the champions of peace could be molded into weapons of destruction, bent to his will. Simply killing them wouldn't suffice; Kasir craved something deeper. His assignments for the occult were often solitary, leading the Darkseeker towards the darkest corners of the galaxy, where the stench of chaos thrived, places the Jedi could only dream of having the courage to tread; thus, it was no surprise that he entertained the notion further, when his path crossed with one on New Cov.

Only the arrival of the medic team could break his gaze as he stood amidst the cargo bay of the 578-R. And yet, even as his eyes followed their every move, Kasir’s body shifted ever so slightly, inching towards the ramp with purpose, and joining the other who blocked the ship's only exit. If she had deluded herself further with any hopes of escaping, he was ready to crush them.

The mention of beginning her training tomorrow was one of the more pleasing thoughts to cross his mind since arriving on the Bailiff Station, but the exact details of how he would go about it had not yet fully formed in his mind. He felt like he could still sense the weight of the Lord Inquisitor's expectations looming high above his head in their upcoming conversation. It brought unease that churned in his gut, as if bracing himself for a discussion he was not prepared for.

Inhaling a deep breath, his head finally turned towards the other Sith at last, attempting to hide all emotion. "What is it you wish to discuss with me, my Lord," he questioned in a nonchalant tone. Before he could even receive a response, his orbs flicked towards the medic team, partially from curiosity as he saw them with their new patient, and also hoping she would feel his satisfaction at any ongoing torment.

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

Cora was halfway certain that her verbal lick would've earned her another severed limb. Or perhaps, a lightsaber to the chest. Her own lightsaber. There would've been something poetic in that, but her mind was too harried to search for it.

Strosius' skepticism was founded. Where some Sith delighted in the prospect of attempting to turn a Jedi, others were disgusted. Still, he wasn't turned off enough by his apprentice's experiment to have her killed.

Yet, anyway.

He laid a plain truth before her: adapt or die. That it was so simple did not make it any less abhorrent. Cora thought back to her year-long marriage, during which she'd made herself soft and submissive in order to survive the cruel hand of her husband. In the end, she'd cracked, and pushed him from the window of his study.

Self preservation had won out, but she would not survive the Sith by being soft and submissive.

Kasir's words dripped with both venom and promise, and she swore that the sound of his voice made the searing irritation of her stumped wrist flare brighter.

Her respond was a pained grunt. When he killed the lightsaber, her shoulders visible slumped.

As the medical team filed onto the ship, Darth Strosius momentarily held her eye with the glint of his visor. Bite? She frowned, and almost seemed like she was about to contest that point before the team began to examine her. Her gaze followed the two darkly garbed Sith as they stepped away, until one of the medical personnel blocked her vision.

They took the severed hand from her possession, which she gave up easily. Another prepared to inject something for the pain, but she raised her free hand to halt him. It trembled slightly. The ire drained from her tone, replaced with quiet fatigue.

"I am not in need of any anesthetic."

It wasn't pride that kept her from requesting a shot of painkillers - because she really could have used it, if she was being honest - it was distrust. Why had Strosius taken her hand, only to have her fitted for a prosthetic and then offered pain relief? Did that not overwrite the lesson he was trying to impart? Cora thought about asking, but she didn't want to give him a reason to change his mind.

Maybe she'd come to understand with time. In some aspects, she'd always been a slow learner.

Cora closed her eyes and tried to seek the Light. All she found was Darkness.

Darth Strosius | Kasir Dorran

 

[Darth Strosius]

​

"It had better not be." Darth Strosius was none too pleased with the situation at hand but if Kasir so badly wanted to have this Jedi in his service then he would indeed take up responsibility for her. He expected much from his Sith and this task, no matter how unusual or unorthodox to their regular operations, would be no different. In fact it would be especially held up to a higher standard as it was one that had been undertaken against their usual methods and practices.

Whether or not Kasir would succeed of course remained to be seen but either way this project wouldn't slip by without attention or resources. Hopefully the Lorekeepers could dredge up some records of how past Sith had turned Jedi to the Dark Side, anything to help in this matter would be a boon. The Jedi of present were far removed from their past iterations but if there was any chance at discovering methods for success then it would be from those that had managed such feats before.

He took a few careful steps down the ramp as the medical team set to work, still close enough that should something occur he could intervene quickly but just far enough a way that a more hushed tone would ensure his words weren't heard clearly by their captive. "I'm still not certain what has gotten into your head to bring a Jedi into our Order, young Darkseeker, but it is set in stone now and there can be no undoing it." There was a hint of disappointment and disgust in his words but he nonetheless exuded his usual calm and wise demeanor as he looked back at Kasir.

His reflective visor gave little indication of what his expression might be as he continued. "I'll have a few records and texts of Jedi recruitment into Sith ranks scoured from the archives sent to your personal mail so as to better prepare yourself for the task ahead, but you won't entirely undertake it alone. You will be her primary point of contact and will be held responsible for her actions and learning, but you know well enough that one instructor solely isn't how we train Sith here."

A risk perhaps to expose the Jedi to even more of his followers and thereby put them at risk but he knew already those that he would choose for this task would be more than capable of dispatching one mere Jedi if it came to it. "Lessons on our culture won't go over well with her I'm sure, but it is essential for how we train our ranks and thus she will be subjected to them nonetheless. Combat and Force training will be conducted as you see fit but the more...esoteric lessons will be held by a small team of instructors handpicked by myself. You may oversee those lessons at your own discretion if you'd like, although it will be nothing new to you of course."

Suddenly the masked man turned on his heel and despite his lower stance on the ramp seemed to loom over Kasir for a moment, his presence intense and all-encompassing as he spoke with a raised finger. "However I have no expectation for her to succeed. None at all. We lose nothing by her premature demise but stand to gain much if she does manage to succumb and enter into the ranks of the Sith. So if she ever makes an attempt to run or turn against you in any way, then I don't want any hesitation on your part. You spared her life once. And only once."

With that said he pulled back and clasped his hands behind his back once more, his presence retreating back to himself as he idly noticed the medics flashing him a concerned glance. "You've taken a big weight upon your shoulders this day Kasir, no matter the outcome that bravery is worth commending in its own right. From this day forward you have no superior Darkseeker or Lord, you shall answer to me directly and unless I have a task for you you will be permitted to operate as you see fit wherever you deem necessary. Congratulations Darkseeker."

Kasir Dorran / Corazona von Ascania

 

[Kasir Dorran]

Corazona von Ascania | Darth Strosius

Feeling the crushing impact of the words, Kasir's chest tightened for an instant. Such feelings were nearly unheard of for him. The consequences of capturing the Jedi briefly threatened to hang over him like a dark cloud. But he quickly reminded himself of the potential within her, the purity of the Force that flowed through her, and the alluring possibility of twisting that very purity into something more sinister and powerful.

No doubt, it was a dangerous curiosity that could consume him. He would have to extinguish her light without losing a piece of himself.

The descent down the ramp, shadowed by the looming presence of the Lord Inquisitor, was a slow one for the Darkseeker. And as his gaze was drawn towards the cargo bay, where the defiant creature stood, his steps came to a sudden halt. He turned back, trying to peer through the medical personnel that blocked his view. But had she caught sight of his look, the malice simmering within his brown orbs would have spoken more than any words he could have gathered.

He lifted a gloved hand up to brush his lower lip, which had just split moments ago, noting that the blood finally began to stop flowing. By the time his head turned once more, he found himself staring upon a visor, the uncertainty palpable.

Rare was it for Kasir, being a man often of few words, to feel the urge to share more of his thoughts. But for now, all he could do was nod his head and wait for a more opportune moment. There was one disappointment of his own as he listened carefully. Upon his arrival to the Bailiff Station earlier, he couldn't help but hope that he would be the sole instructor of the Jedi, selfish as it may seem.

The next time his head inclined forward, it felt more meaningful. “Then there will be no chains to bind my potential,” he said with a ghostly murmur as he considered the idea that not a single Darkseeker nor Lord could now challenge his prowess. “Your enemies will now lay scattered at my feet, broken and defeated.” His heart, like a stone, felt an unexpected flicker of warmth, allowing gratitude to creep into his cool demeanor. The sensation felt foreign. But he then quickly crushed it with the malevolent energy that pulsed within, before it could spread like a disease.

While his loyalty to the High Priest knew no bounds, no sentiment could weaken his grip on the shadows that he so often wielded.

He seemed to stand taller now. "My Lord, where shall I begin the training?" he asked, his voice still low. “Utilizing the training facilities upon this station would ensure the Jedi remains under constant surveillance.” His mind then shifted to Faldos, and it did bring a hint of intrigue, given its harsh environment. But the thought of their enclave on Mustafar became the heaviest, a planet covered in ancient power. "Mustafar may hold the key to deeper training," he suggested, a hint of ambition sparking in his tone, although it was obviously a personal preference. "The ash and lava would.. consume any hope she clings to.”

Another image of their clash on New Cov flashed in his mind, where she had so easily summoned vines against him. “There is one more observation that I did not want to go unheard. This one possesses a peculiar allegiance…or connection with plant life.” The corners of his mouth twitched. “I have no doubt that coming from the Core Worlds, she expects flora and the ground to bow to her will.”

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

The medical personnel were quick and professional. Field medics, if she had to guess. It was their job to assess the most devastating injuries in a matter of seconds, then make decisions on how to act. She imagined that a missing hand – severed cleanly from a lightsaber strike, in an area where they weren't under active fire – was likely on the lesser end of what they'd seen.

While they hadn't offered any kind words, they hadn't offered any harsh ones, either. In the fleeting moments between the uncomfortable sensations of being stabilized, Cora tried to search their faces for any sense of what they were feeling. Were they upset that that had to treat an enemy, or did they not care one way or the other?

Focus. That was what she had finally gleaned from their stern expressions. A bead of sweat rolled down the neck of the young man who'd inserted an IV into the crook of her arm. Her gaze tracked to the figure of the Sith Lord that loomed behind them. Not the most ostentatious, she thought, but his presence lingered heavily around them like a force of nature.

Darth Strosius was the moment held in tension before a storm struck.

The medic reached to rummage through his bag, and Kasir's violent expression struck her like a dagger. Cora's heart leaped; the monitor attached to one of her remaining fingers beeped in warning. Instead of defiance, worry crept into the pained lines of her face.

The two Sith weren't easy to hear, given where they were standing and the medical team surrounding her. She wondered what would be in those records send to Kasir. Perhaps, in his digging, he'd discover a particularly sordid piece of her past regarding the Sith.

Nwul wasn't here to shield her, if he'd even still felt anything for her. Nor was Malum, who seemed more interested in preserving her life than slaying an ancient foe. Cora would have to navigate this situation on her own, and pray that Kasir's idea of training was not, in actuality, a slow and painful death.

Her wrist had been placed in a tool that resembled a vice in order to keep her steady. One of the medics cautioned her to not move, and a searing pain flared at her wrist as the flesh was sealed around the prosthetic base. Cora clamped her free hand over her mouth, muffling a strangled gasp as it left her.

"Ashla h-help me…" she whispered, voice cracking as tears stung her eyes like glass. The anesthetic would've made this bearable.

Kasir Dorran Darth Strosius