In Vagrante Delicto

[Ashin Varanin]

Fifteen years ago
Triage station
Battle of Quintas
Unknown Regions

"Here's my thought," she said, and stepped into the force tube, dragging Garrett with her. The tube shot them up into the hovering white rocket, where an attentive officer saluted. "Lady Ashera, the crew of the Shoutaway is honoured to serve you - your orders?"

"You have autoblasters, correct?"

"Eight of them, and frankly, ma'am, they're all we do have." The Sith officer's gaze flicked towards Garrett; his face stiffened, and fear roiled through the Force. Ashin sighed. If this party accumulated any more strange bedfellows...

"Yes, it's him. Yes, we need transportation to somewhere very important. Yes, I really do want you to unload those autoblasters on the Charon infantry while you hover here."

"Consider it done, ma'am." He spoke a quiet word into his comlink and the big white luxury transport shuddered.

"There. Now that my conscience is out of the way, Granth, where are we bound? Wherever it is, it should be relatively quick. For reasons you may or may not be aware of, I can't disclose what I know about the Cult...but suffice it to say, I'm going back to Arcanix alone at some point, and I'm going to kill some people who need it."

 

[Ashin Varanin]

The memories poured into her, disjointed, uncontrollable, segmented with missing pieces.

Fifteen years ago
Battle of Quintas
Unknown Regions

While the Sith crewers did what needed doing (and forget the diplomatic consequences) she had a certain amount of time to think laterally and get other things done. And some were plenty simple. There was no point in telling him that her Cult mind-twist might not allow her to share some of this information with Velok, but she was a Sith Lord in her own right, commander of basically whatever resources she needed...and she was pretty sure she could compartmentalize information and give it to a couple of Sarastro's Force-slicers. It would also come in very handy on her return trip to Arcanix, now looking more and more imminent. Ashin accepted the holocube and, with some aplomb, reciprocated. "This datachit has an account number for a Bothan bank. You seem to go through materials like water, so I took the liberty of getting you some limited operating resources out of the Dark Council's slush fund list. Nothing major - barely the price of a couple of high-end starfighters - but enough to hold you over until things solidify. At which point I'm sure you'll be sending invoices to everyone from Thrawn to the Inner Circle to the Xedael Empire, but never fear, we'll remember this. Sadly," she said with mock sympathy, eyeing the older man, "the harem is off the table. I doubt your tastes run to Sith Lords, or I'd offer the exclusive rest and recuperation package. As it were." In theory, he wasn't her type; then again, she hadn't been with enough men to have developed a 'type', and the Dark Side had more subtle effects on the psyche than megalomania, paranoia and bloodlust. "And along those lines, if you were wanting to audition for the harem job..."

 

[Ashin Varanin]

Fifteen years ago
Battle of Quintas
Unknown Regions

She oversaw the the tidy exit of the Centrality personnel from the Imperial yacht; then the modified pleasure craft lifted off, bound for Docking Yard 16 now that the side jaunt was complete. His logic tracked clean, and it was backed up by whatever bit of harmony was left to her after radiation, unexpected hormones, medication and the gift-wrapped receipt of Sivter's master key.

The SE commandos, all Sith'ari Centrality of course, formed up by the airlock. Ashin ignited her blue lightsabre and set her jaw. "Best as we can determine, folks, Weather Control is within a hundred metres or so, maps in your HUDs. Mostly civilians between us and them. Let's limit collateral, please. By which I mean, if I see little old ladies gunned down, you're all dead whether or not the Cult is done with us. There'll be Republic-friendly guards at the doors to Weather Control; stun if possible." It wasn't long ago that she'd been a faithful servant of the Republic...but then again, in exigent circumstances, she'd probably still have allowed for a little collateral damage as a Jedi Knight, if it was to stop something of this magnitude.

If her gut and Garrett were right, that is.

***​

But right about what? What had they been after?

 

[Ashin Varanin]

Fifteen years ago
Battle of Quintas
Unknown Regions

The airlock hissed open; the plainclothes commandos flanked her as she stormed through the concourse, lightsabre raised. "Out of the way!" she yelled. Civilians scattered. Her blue sabre and brown clothes pretty much screamed 'Jedi', and despite dubious levels of public trust, that still went a long way in a place like this.

She came to the security doors; the guards had no hint of the Dark Side. A rather beautiful idea came over her. "Your business, Master Jedi?"

"Jedi Knight Ashin Varanin. Your facility has been compromised by the Cult of Shadow. I need these doors open. I'll wait for identification - will retinal scan suffice?"

The guard chucked his chin at the security scanner. "Phipps, run the Jedi cross-reference, double-time. Sorry, ma'am, can't let you in without it."

There were advantages to still being on the Jedi rosters. It hadn't been that long, after all. Cameo Naton, Cecil Tellyn, Gideon Duthuras - all their biometrics were still in Jedi databases, which were linked to the higher levels of Republic facility security. And they'd all been gone longer than her.

She ducked her head. The retina scanner chirrupped. The door hissed open.

A smell rolled out: death. The plainclothes commandos and the Star Republic guards poured in, blasters blasting, and Ashin was at their head. It was nice to come to grips with the enemy after all this frustration. It was nice to face down a Cult Knight who recognized her and feel his hate and feed off it. It was nice to cut his freaking head off and look around Weather Control and see all the underlings decorated with fresh blaster craters to match the marks on the dead meteorologists.

Having spent some time on ice worlds, it was actually nice for her just to see dead meteorologists.

"Granth," she snapped. "This Red Death - what should we be looking for?"

 

[Ashin Varanin]

Fifteen years ago
Battle of Quintas
Unknown Regions

"You do realize my fluids are pretty radioactive right now too, right?" She spun the lightsabre hilt in her hands and ignited a bar of blue-white fire. "Fine. Do what needs doing. Booty call can wait until neither of us are dead walking."

She let him get to the disposal of the canister and stalked through the doors into the rest of the hospital. "This," she said to herself, "is what you call a target-rich environment." She picked a hall at random and walked straight ahead, lightsabre lowered in a slack hand to score a black line on the tile. She closed her eyes and focused past all the fatigue of the past many hours.

There is no other way. If you and Granth are to survive, you need a fulness of power. You need to completely embrace the Dark Side of the Force, bend it to your will, conquer it and your fears as well. If you do not do this, he won't have time to destroy the canister, and he'll never be able to save the galaxy again. It's as simple as that. You don't even have to trust me or know who I am. You know you don't have the time.

And she was so tired. As the first Charon boiled around the corner, a mess of claws and plasma and someone's bloody lab coat, she raised her lightsabre and kept walking. But she was so tired.

You know what's wrong with the universe, and you know that nobody else understands it quite like you do. If you die now, it all goes to waste. Every sacrifice you've made, every trial you've endured, will be pointless. You've made your sacrifices. Become who you were born to be.

She brought the sabre down and a Charon's arm spiralled into the wall. He punched her with the other claw and she felt ribs crack, heard the wind of her passage whistle in her ears as she flew back down the hall. Slowly, ever so slowly, she got to her feet and ignited the lightsabre again.

You will die. You will never accomplish anything significant, ever again. You will never fix-

I heard you the first time, Kishkumen.

 

[Ashin Varanin]

But where did you get the strength, Ori'vod? Where did all this come from?

Fifteen years ago
Battle of Quintas
Unknown Regions

As the long-extinct Francais will tell you, nothing's easier than surrender. The Dark Side of the Force consumed her, knitted together the bones and the flesh around them. Connective tissue fused back into a facsimile of its ultimate form. Her next step shook the light fixture overhead; the one-armed Charon glanced up as it charged past the light. Ashin gestured and a gurney wrapped itself around the Charon's face and thorax. She took another long step and met the beast's momentum with an extended, braced lightsabre, then sidestepped left before it could throw her off her feet. The sabre blade tore sideways through the arachnoid's chest and carried on, a single forehand movement that clotheslined the next Charon - or would have, if not for a lightsabre's puzzling ability to separate a thing from its adjacent things. And it turns out that even when you're huge and chitinous and unstoppable, you still tend to raise all your hands when something's coming towards your face. That Charon hit the ground in six distinct splots.

She drew an 'x' in the air with her sabre tip and walked over what remained of the third Charon. The fourth and fifth, like their predecessors, were running towards her at full speed, claws clacking once or twice in the long seconds between coming into view and dying on Ashin's blade. Now, and only now, did she make any great movement: a gathering of her strength, a pushing off from an ichor-smooth floor, a leap and a flying kick that put the next Charon through the window and sent him tumbling five stories down. Flying kicks, she recalled, were not her style. So unsatisfying.

She punched the next Charon in the face and he stayed down.

Then they were on her. The Dark Side boiled out from her, slamming them through walls and ceiling. One of those walls fronted on the outside, and wind howled by; she slashed at another Charon, her blade's momentum forcing him over the edge even as it bit through his exoskeleton. She crushed the next one's throat with a look. Then it was into the stairwell.

 

[Ashin Varanin]

WHERE DID YOU GET THE STRENGTH, ORI'VOD?

Fifteen years ago
Battle of Quintas
Unknown Regions

In the end, security holocam footage obtained by GNN would show Jedi Knight Varanin - officially listed as missing in action for the past several months at least - using her blue-bladed lightsabre and impressive combat mien to defend the hospital from the Charon scourge as brave Doctor Garrett Granth incinerated a canister of unknown WMD. In ensuing years, a minor holodrama would be based on a true story; then she'd be outed as a Sith and become Empress.


In actual fact, when the last Charon died, Ashin commed her very useful Centrality commandos, who had been taking care of similar issues nearby. (GNN would later claim they were Antarian Rangers.) Then she passed out.


She woke up beside Granth (not like THAT) in the guest suite of the yacht, not long afterwards. Because she vaguely recalled it working before, she slapped the good doctor repeatedly until his radiation-addled self bid Lethe a fond and temporary farewell. "Granth. GRANTH."

"'m awake."

"It's over. Charon destroyed, Sivter's fled with the Edict. I'm bound for Arcanix rather soon, I'd imagine. The nature of the mind twist, of course, means I can't tell you where it is or take you with me. Then again, I wouldn't be overly surprised if you didn't already know where it was or have a way to find it. Or else you want or need to go somewhere else important."

 

[Ashin Varanin]

Fifteen years ago
Battle of Quintas - Aftermath
Unknown Regions

The transmission came through loud and clear. Ashin froze.

Medically, psychiatrically, militarily, educationally and hormonally, it had been a long day.

More to the point, she'd begun the day in a far different place. She'd been one way, and she was now another. Making the necessary and full commitment to the Dark Side hadn't given her any sudden cravings for the blood of infants, but a new strength ran through her, a new confidence - no, assuredness. Even if that assuredness came at the price of-

THE PRICE OF WHAT, ORI'VOD.​

-and then the tension was gone, the stress of running and hiding the way she'd done for, oh, years on and off. It almost made no difference that the Edict had fled, that the Cult's recent rule of fear had been apparently broken.

She was going to Arcanix. And she was going to kill everything she could find, take what remained, and so forth. Because she could, because they had it coming, and because the harmony suggested a crescendo yet to come. If she'd come to understand one thing from studying the holocrons, especially the Skull Holocron she'd carried for so long and at such cost, it was that a true Sith Lord - and she knew, in her gut, that she was a true Sith Lord now, by sacrifice and training and commitment - had some sense of destiny. Not necessarily inescapable (doctrines differed) but present nonetheless. Hagron-tides-of-green had taught her the harmonies of the universe, and because she could perceive them she had empirical knowledge of the Way Things Should Be.

Today, at more than one point, had been a crux for her, a shatterpoint on which all her life depended. She didn't seek out or choose the drama inherent in that; as a matter of fact she realized that she felt little emotion about it. Perhaps Kalja could offer a henceforth unknown way to purge the Shadow Poison from her system. Ashin no longer looked at that with hope or shame, but she did look at that as an option, despite her commitment. Or, perhaps, because of it. She felt the freedom to make any decision she saw fit. She'd be glad to talk to Kalja - knowledge was always useful, and the older woman had never been anything other than helpful to her.

She also decided, then and there, that her alias of 'Darth Ashera' was no more. It had never had any meaning for her. She would no longer run, or wear a Nihilus mask, or use an alias. Given names worked for Exar Kun, Ulic Qel-Droma, Naga Sadow, Damascus, Sivter and Velok.

Ashin Varanin, Lord of the Sith, sighed and toggled the comm switch, and felt more content than she had in some time.

"Master Leidias, we'd be delighted to receive you. Wouldn't we, Garrett." She gifted him with a saccharine smile. "Dock and come aboard at your discretion." She folded her arms and realized she was still crusted with ichor. Dried Charon flaked to the floor. "If any Jedi can keep a secret, it's Kalja fething Leidias. Best liar the Order ever produced. Excuse me. I'm going to go use the Moff's shampoo. Time is of the essence. Don't follow me."

"Physiologically impossible-"

"Starting to wonder if that's a permanent condition. It comes so easily to your lips."

The shower was quick, and the Moff's bathrobe comfortable, and her clothes were wrecked anyways. By the time Kalja came aboard, Ashin was out of the shower and into the plush white bathrobe, with her lightsabre tucked through the thick matching belt. It was a real water shower, and her hair was still wet. And the radiation poisoning hadn't even made her hair fall out yet. Idly she wondered if the drugs would prevent it.

NO. NOT FROM HER. WHAT YOU OWE, YOU OWE TO ME.​

 

[Ashin Varanin]

Fifteen years ago
Battle of Quintas - Aftermath
Unknown Regions

She'd been healed before by people who knew what they were doing, so it wasn't much of a special event - at least, no more than any time when you suddenly felt like you weren't going to die. The familiarity of it let her think about Kalja's words, which were many. They stirred up some emotions that she'd rather not have stirred up, especially considering how worn out she felt. Yes, she was going to sleep all the way to Arcanix. The bathrobe, soft beyond all that is soft, didn't help.

"Revenge is only part of it," she said at last. "Not even a large part of it. It's like I can see how all the pieces fit together - it's this new sort of tactical or strategic awareness. I've read about it, but it's..." She shook her head. "And that's not why I did it. That's just how I did it; that, and the harmonies. Law and order, Master Leidias. They put me in charge of training their students to work together, to respect the law, to feel some sense of responsibility to the people - I'm creating Sith with a sense of civic duty, like the Inquisitors were for the Empire. Oh, I have to keep them in line, and it certainly doesn't always work, but sometimes I think I've accomplished more in the cause of order as a Sith Lord than I ever did as a Jedi Knight...

"...how is that wrong? And if I give up what I'm doing, wouldn't that be wrong?" She chuckled. "Talking of good and evil - this is something I haven't done in a little while. The bottom line is, I was trained to do my duty, to uphold the law, to fix things that are broken, to punish those who break them. Now I have the power to do that. Now I want to do it. I study people like Marka Ragnos, who ruled a stable government for a hundred years, and I think - I can be one of those exceptions.

"But tell me." She looked up at Kalja with eyes gone ice-blue from the mixture of poisons in her blood. At last count she'd been dosed with four different kinds of Sith Poison, plus various other chemicals. Her blood could be Sith Poison if properly refined. Fortunately, other than the obvious, there were no physiological effects yet. "You got past the Shadow Poison. I didn't know it was possible. I could play the ingenue, the Jedi desperate to return to the fold, and beg you to tell me how you did it for the sake of my redemption. Or I could play the Sith Master and ask you out of cold curiosity about the alchemical principles involved. How did you do it? And is the process repeatable?"

YOU NEVER ASKED ABOUT ME​

YOU NEVER CHECKED ON ME​

YOU WERE SO PLEASED WITH YOURSELF FOR SACRIFICING ME​

YOU NEVER LOVED ME​

 

[Ashin Varanin]

MORE WORDS​

FORGET HER​

JUST REMEMBER WHAT YOU DIDN'T SAY​

WHAT YOU DIDN'T THINK​

Fifteen years ago
Battle of Quintas - Aftermath
Unknown Regions

She couldn't help the tears, but she didn't give into them, didn't sob or whimper. She'd thought she was tougher than this. It was both humiliating and comforting to find out she'd been wrong. In all her months and years of running from the Cult, surviving on Arcanix, and training in the Centrality, precious few people had offered her sympathy. Hagron had, and she missed the old Kotala, probably still bringing harmony to the million-man slums of Trevel'ka. Hagron, like Kalja, understood how hard it had been, and come to think of it, the advice they'd given her was startlingly similar in its essentials.

She wanted to give the codes, the Arcanix codes, to Kalja. That would solve so much, but there was still the mind twist to consider. Even if the Shadow Keepers had left out the specific clause 'If you find yourself in possession of Sivter's passwords, do not give it to the Jedi,' the principle of it was enough for her to be properly wary. Besides. Garrett was right there, and he could offer it, if he had a mind to.

"I'm going to Arcanix," she said, "just as soon as I've rested. I'd tell you where it is, but you of all people know how the mind twist works. If Sivter dies, if the Cult dissolves, I wonder what happens to the twist." She hunched her shoulders forward a little. "I'm not the sort of...person...who throws energy around, you understand. The flashy bits, the arcane lore, the things my new teachers love - they have no interest for me. But I intend to steal as much knowledge as I can. Velok - he's this secretive Sith Master-"

"Is there any other kind?" said Garrett.

He'd seen her cry. Not many people now living could claim that. One or two of them, if she had her way, wouldn't live out the week. "Point. Velok taught me how to take knowledge when I need it. If I can, I'll do that to Okdoro, or failing that to one of his students, or someone like Siriss Cortann who knows Sith Poison well. A dangerous business. I'd rather..." She chuckled. "Apologies. I'm thinking out loud. Suffice it to say, I don't intend to go chasing after a cure my whole life, but if there's one thing I hate, it's being constrained, having my options limited, having someone force me to do something."

She blinked, realizing she intended to fight Dark Lords, and her eyes went hard. "If you have any errands that need to be run on Arcanix, tell me what they are and I'll see if I can take care of them. I'll be busy robbing the place, but you just saved me a few years of doctors. No offense, Granth, but then again you're not that kind of doctor."

"I'm every kind of doctor. You saw me with the pills, right?"

"If your reputation is anything to go on, you'll forgive me if I don't equate familiarity with pills to M.D. But the offer's valid for you, too. If you need me to pick up some blue milk and green eggs while I'm on Arcanix, I can probably add it to the extensive shopping list."

 

[Ashin Varanin]

AND SO QUICKLY YOU MOVED ON TO THE BUSINESS OF REVENGE​

SHE KNEW TOO BUT SHE NEVER ASKED​

WORTHLESS​

​

Fifteen years ago
Battle of Quintas - Aftermath
Unknown Regions

Ashin tapped a cracked fingernail on her lips. As with most Sith and most people, she hated being wrong or feeling the fool, and she'd gotten ahead of herself. Perhaps it was because her gut told her she'd return there, and fight there. "If Velok is avoiding you, I can only think of one reason. Last year he absorbed the spirit of Darth Kren. He's heard that you can perform exorcisms, and he treasures Kren's knowledge enough that he'd consider it wise to avoid you. It's certainly not a matter of principle; he works with many Jedi. Velok wants to take Arcanix almost more than I do. He wants knowledge and a challenging hunt, and Arcanix is brimming with opportunities for both. I'll contact him, but I know his other associates and have some influence with them. Darth Sarastro, Dark Lord of the Sith'ari Centrality, is a close ally and sometimes my teacher. Sarastro brought his fleet here, and many of his Sith. I cannot hope to influence him," she lied, "but I don't think he needs influencing." That part was true enough. "He'll want to be involved, rest assured. He'll want the Cult's secrets for our alchemists."

She'd just spilled far more nuances of the inner workings of the Centrality than Velok would have liked. She'd even intimated the existence of None Whatsoever, and the last time she'd done that, his reaction had not been pleasant. "That's my sole concern, Master Leidias. It's feasible for us all to work together, but the aftermath will be complex. Everyone will want what remains, to destroy or to study. Obviously, if this works and we bring down the Cult, Lord Sarastro will send me and others to recruit from the survivors. I've given him nearly everything I learned during my time with the Cult - everything that wasn't covered by the mind twist, anyways. His fever dream is to cut off the head and win the loyalty of someone like Okdoro or Arksis Nan. It's not a course I entirely agree with, but my point is that after we bring down the Cult, everyone will want something. To say nothing of the power vacuum.

"But I'm getting ahead of myself. Master Leidias, I can draw upon certain relationships within Velok's circle, and get you several powerful Sith. But as a member of the Dark Council, I can assure you that Lord Sarastro, supported by key Council members, will send ships and Force users in significant numbers. The citadel on Arcanix is huge, and Sivter's recruitment drives have brought in Vahla, Genoharadan, Fire-born, Sable Dawn aristos, dark Zeison Sha, even a couple of Rhandites. Sivter can field a truly ridiculous number of Forcers. I can't pretend the Centrality can do the same - we have the numbers, but we have more new students. As best as I could determine, the Cult has perhaps twelve or fifteen Dark Lords, some of them stronger than others. If Darth Sarastro gives the order, the Centrality can provide as many as six or seven - again, some of them stronger than others. The Dark Lord might even make a personal appearance, as he's doing here.

"I obviously can't reveal Arcanix myself without dying, but if Arcanix is discovered by others and other means, I can guarantee that the Centrality will continue the fight, if given the opportunity."

She glanced over at Garrett, who was fumbling with the console one-handed. At the harem comment, Ashin grinned, a mocking expression aimed at herself just as well as him.

"I'll warn you, my interviewing style is unconventional. Reng Kasr...now there's a name to be whispered in the dark. Always wanted to meet him. Seems now I'll get my chance."

 

[Ashin Varanin]

AND YOU MET WITH KASR​

AND YOU MET WITH THE CENTRALITY​

YOU MET WITH ASEMIR LOR'KORA TO PREPARE THE INFILTRATION OF ARCANIX​

AND YOU DID EVERYTHING EXCEPT ACKNOWLEDGE YOUR TREASON​

I WAS YOUR FIRST STUDENT​

I WAS WHAT YOU DESERVED​

BUT I DESERVED MORE THAN YOU​

REMEMBER YOUR PART IN THESE EVENTS AND MAYBE​

JUST MAYBE​

YOU'LL CHOOSE TO REMEMBER ME ONCE I'VE TAKEN THE REST​

ONCE IT'S YOU AND I ALONE​

​

FIfteen years ago
Battle of Quintas - Aftermath
Unknown Regions

"I'll remind you that you don't know who I am," the hooded man said with equanimity. "Nor do you know that I represent Lord Koss."

"I feel safe in assuming you do."

"Then let's assume together. If I represented him, I'd be asking for assurance that this isn't simply a ploy to draw him out of his redoubts and take more of his territory."

"The Centrality has enough. The others have their fiefdoms. Their greed has been satiated." She opened a scroll of engraved metal, angling it to get the reflection off all the runes. It was written in a very old form of High Sith, and bore no tarnish. At a glance, it seemed to be something about smoke demons. Much of this, of course, would be useless to her. She did not have the gift for true Sith Magic, like Darth Bane of old and the vast majority of Darksiders.

"But not yours, Master Varanin."

She looked up. "Hm? No, not mine. Per se. Is this Dwomutsiqsa? I've never seen the entire incantation written out in one place before."

The hooded man stood behind her, close enough that she could smell his aftershave. "That one, yes, it is. An impressive power, but its true usefulness lies in the potential for leveraging one's time."

"I don't have the gift for Sith Magic," she said. "Not the traditional kind, anyways."

"And still Sirena chose to take you as her First Apprentice? You must be something special after all. I wonder that you would reveal that to me. It's not the sort of thing one does."

"Consider it an expression of trust."

"Trust? No, no...Master Varanin, I consider it a boast that you don't need Sith Magic to deal with, say, me. A charming thought, and one I have no intention of testing. Your body count of Cult agents while refraining from using the Force - that speaks for itself. As does your ascent to the higher ranks of the Centrality's Council. You're one of the few worthwhile people in that august assemblage, and you don't even partake of their founding myth. A fallen Jedi - nothing more."

"Oh, I'm far more than a fallen Jedi. If I wanted the job, this would be a far different conversation. It came down to you and me, and I wanted my freedom more than I wanted everything. You, now - you've already got your burden." She returned the scroll to its niche and turned, too close, to offer the hooded man a brilliant smile. "Which is why you don't need to worry overmuch about me, Lord Koss."

"You're still half a Jedi, despite your protests." Contempt crept into his voice. "In a year, or ten, you'll feel the draw inside you - the demand for the recognition your power deserves."

"I feel it already. I simply have other priorities. Recognition - where was Darth Plagueis' need for recognition? Or Darth Bane's? For every Exar Kun there is a Vectivus. I see your point, Lord Koss, but I don't think your choice of words is ideal."

"Like any Sith Lord, you are the Force, girl! No, recognition isn't everything, and I'm pleased that you see the distinction between true power and perceived power. I think I've underestimated you somewhat. Perhaps it's your age."

"Any twentysomething Sith you meet who's as strong as I am has always been a prodigy. Except me. So I forgive you for believing I think like any other spoiled, entitled child of a Sith Lord. And thank you for confirming that you're probably not Seth deSchaen. I can tell when a man is lying, if he's standing this close to me. Call it a legacy of my former Master."

"Quite right." Another voice - male, younger, with a strange buzz to it - came from behind her. She glanced over her shoulder as a youngish man came through the stacks and wound his way around display cases. "I am Lord deSchaen, and yes, this is Lord Koss. And here is Lady Onaesar." Ashin sucked in a shaky breath. Against any one of these, she stood something of a chance. Against all three, she'd be dead or worse in instants. They were standing around her, and she had a display case at her back. She remained outwardly calm through an effort of will, the Jedi discipline she'd honed for almost a decade. "This must be the first time we've stood together in a room since, oh..." DeSchaen shrugged eloquently. "I assume you have a plan other than overwhelming force?"

"I do."

"May one inquire as to the details of said plan?" said deSchaen.

And so she told them-

TOLD THEM WHAT?​

​

No, this memory's even more out of joint than the rest-​

​

TOLD THEM WHAT?​

DID YOU KNOW THE FUTURE THEN?​

DID YOU KNOW WE'D GO TO WAR?​

 

[Ashin Varanin]

Fifteen years ago
Battle of Arcanix
Unknown Regions

The ship: grabbed from a Cult recruiter less than thirty hours ago. The codes: taken from the head of another Cultist by Garrett Granth within twenty-four. The memories: authentic, primary sources for scholars of destruction who were themselves witnesses of all that had gone before. The cover: returning Cultists from across the universe, and the echoes of Quintas not yet faded.

Footfall on Arcanix.

Ashin breathed in, tasting the Corrupter poison in the air. Like most Cultists, she had it in her blood; unlike most, she had another four kinds commingling with it. Their fury was a dull roar in the back of her head, every moment since the crescendo of alchemical biotoxins began - almost a decade ago. Had it been so long? And yet she remembered her teenage self exposed to Sith poison, not long after her first expedition from the Olra'en family's hidden praxeum. She remembered her determination, her implacable and innocent stand against the poison that sought her life and her allegiance. Sith though she had become, she couldn't regret it. That experience, that first imprisonment, had taught her more strength than much of what had come after, and all of what had gone before.

But the Corrupter poison, and the poison of the Cult tattoo, and the Shadow Poison itself - those, she would change if she had the choice. She could have persevered against the first two, probably, but she resented them for their ties with this place. Hate boiled up in her; she forced into its proper place.

My chains are broken.

She rejected the thralldom of mindless rage in favour of the cold hate she'd cultivated so well out of necessity. Fear, too, had its proper place. Fear of success, fear of Sivter, fear of confinement. Fear of limited choices, of any limitations. When she was nearly raped here, when the Shadow Poison took half her soul, when the Cult took her Padawan and her family and her friends...well, those were things of the past. There was, in a very real sense, nothing they could take from her. She'd gone to Quintas wearing a mask, as Darth Ashera; a cover identity. Now she went by her own name, and very soon, by her own face.

Throughout her approach to the system, she had kept her Force use minimal. Her armour, the alchemical masterwork that went by the name of Contempt, scrambled her presence - leaving her power the same, to the inquisitive searcher, but making her unrecognisable in that plane. Red, gold and blue lacquer drew patterns of harsh strict angles. Gauntleted hands pulled up the hood of her featureless black cloak, then down over her forehead and eyes. She'd contemplated tying her hair back, but instead it hung in a multitude of thin braids, the style she'd worn for much of her apprenticeship with the Jedi. Tiny Sith tokens and amulets stuck out from the braid, though not very far. Runes worked in snippets of alchemically-treated black wood and Hssiss-tooth scrimshaw, a Rakatan poem writ small on beskar, fragments of crystal and phrik and bone, all wove into the thin braids that dangled down the sides of her neck. The crystal shards were reddish-pink, slivers of La-Reia's Crystal - the Force nexus she'd shattered over Quintas, and blood-bonded to herself. Other fragments of the same crystal were mounted to the inside of her armour - recent additions. The cloak covered nearly all.

On her forehead, beneath the hood, she wore the mark of Naga Sadow. Her eyes had never been a paler blue.

She turned to Asemir - the man to whom she'd ceded operational control. She knew the plan just as well as he did, and they both knew they had exactly one chance of realistically keeping Sivter occupied: Teshran Lor. Darth Phasmis. Sirena and the Centrality had given her everything the current Sith regime knew about Teshran's Sith days, and it would have to be enough. The team had looked it over en route, but really, they were flying this blind. "Lead on."

 

[Ashin Varanin]

Fifteen years ago
Battle of Arcanix
Unknown Regions

"Let's hope our lies work," said Asemir.

The blasted landscape of Arcanix, locally, ringed this particular landing field in ragged hills. An opening, a V in the rocks, showed a handful of Cultists and a view of the biosmog-veiled fortress. Other ships, disparate freighters and starfighters, dotted the landing field, and other Cultists were moving towards the opening where stood the Shadow Keepers. Their group would get to the gap before others, meaning if this went sour, they'd be caught between new arrivals and Shadow Keepers. Hardly a tenable situation.

"Lies? Sounds like somebody called for a Sith Lord." Self-mocking humour seemed to fit this place. Ashin took point unbidden, still unsure as to how close Asemir's oversight would be. She'd suggested he take command because of his familiarity with squad-level tactics. From what she could tell, and what she knew of him, he'd be the sort to give orders rarely, and expect everyone else to be competent in taking initiative. He'd also be the sort to expect his infrequent orders to be obeyed.

"Hood down," said the lead Shadow Keeper, an Ishi Tib who spoke Basic in the most limited sense. But there was nothing limited or basic about the mind she sensed. He was a telepath, and he was on edge. She dropped her hood without complaint. When she'd been here, her hair had been shorter and darker, and her skin less pale. Also, she hadn't had Naga Sadow's seal tattooed into her forehead with what Delana had dubbed Ashin's Henna. But if there was one thing you could count on an Ishi Tib to do, it was fail to recognize humanoids anyway. "Mission?"

"Recruiter. Went to Borleias. Turned out to be a couple of rogue Jedi trying to infiltrate. Killed them, had to detour to pick up these ones on a planet I'm not allowed to name."

The other, a Tintinna, scrutinized her, and she felt the touch of a cold mind completely at odds with the furry little alien. It probed the edges of her psyche gingerly, aware of her power and courteous lest it offend someone of Importance, but businesslike and unrelenting. It found the bits of the Cult Mind Twist that poked out in a metaphorical sense, the easy signs to spot. She felt something odd -the key-and-lock sensation of a Shadow Keeper finding a functional recipient of their Mind Twist. That right there should have been enough to verify her membership, but this was the Cult.

"Tattoo."

She slipped off her left gauntlet and bracer and shoved up the sleeve of her bodyglove. The seal of the Cult was tattooed on the inside of her forearm. The Ishi Tib probed the tattoo and grunted as he felt the echo of the Dark Side that poisoned the ink. He did the same cursorily for her forehead tattoo and grunted again. "You can pass."

Her instincts gave no sign or hint of a problem. She had subsumed her nervousness using the mental self-discipline she'd honed as a Jedi Knight. Even so, it was a relief that Ashin's Henna had passed inspection. The temporary ink was mixed with a reproductively sterile variant of Sith biotoxin , derived from her blood. It felt like the Dark Side, just like the genuine article, but it was still one gamble of many. The other three, whose tattoos had been removed at one point or another, had new tattoos in different locations - at least there was no standard spot for the tattoo.

She passed the checkpoint and put her hood up again. Hopefully they hadn't been recording - she hadn't seen anything that could be a camera. One never knew. Time was still of the essence.

Behind her, the Shadow Keepers checked that the other three had been Mind Twisted - they had - and that their tattoos were authentically made from Sith Poison - they were. There should be no hitches - not unless someone got recognized. Though she was walking away, her mind was on what was happening behind her, and her supernatural senses too. In theory, if they needed to cut down the Shadow Keepers, they would need to be very fast, and then they would need to either move even faster or bluff it out to whatever other Keepers showed up. Cultists killed Cultists all the time. Even Shadow Keepers could die - though fighting someone who'd screwed with your mind was generally considered to be a bad idea.

Going in all together was another calculated risk. One person recognized was death. She kept walking, hood over her face, towards the front doors.

YOU CAME THIS FAR​

AND IN FAIRNESS I CAN UNDERSTAND YOUR SINGLEMINDEDNESS​

SO PLEASE APPRECIATE MINE​

 

[Ashin Varanin]

Then Asemir and I recruited Teshran Lor, raided the libraries, turned Sivter's powerbase against him-

AND NOTHING FOR ME​

You were no longer important.

I MADE EVERYTHING POSSIBLE​

EVERYTHING​

You can jumble things all you like, erase what you want, suppress the roles others played -- it still won't just be about me and you. No matter what I did to you. No matter how much I regret it.

YOU DESERVE THIS​

I never said I didn't.

​

Fifteen years ago
Battle of Arcanix
Unknown Regions

Ashin re-rolled the golden scroll and put it back on the shelf. One spellbook, the genuine kind, and two Sith scrolls - a good haul. She and Asemir left the library behind with some relief. "Armory and forges...good." She hefted a lightsabre, not her own. Sith runes ran down the sides, and the slim hilt had a crossguard in the form of a tomahawk head. The whole instrument was glossy black, projected a certain age, and had obviously been made by someone who Knew What He Was Doing. She ran a thumb across the tall narrow hammerhead that counterbalanced the tomahawk blade. Kishkumen's sabre, taken from his deathbed on Kothlis.

She hadn't felt his presence for twenty-four hours. Strange. The days before that, she'd always felt a sense of watchfulness in the back of her mind, and heard his voice more than once. Wherever he was, he was busy. It was not a comforting thought.

The hood sat low over her face. She kept her voice low as they passed through the winding halls - and was especially silent around Schrai. "Kishkumen might have recognized me, but he's gone. The current forgemaster, Arksis Nan, doesn't know me from Leia Organa. He's another one that I wouldn't mind recruiting, once things start to go mad. We have enough good people already that bringing in some of the Cult's less omnicidal remnants won't shift our balance of power too far. Arksis doesn't have the reputation for pointless sadism that, say, Okdoro or Cortann have. The prize, though, the real prize, would be Arien Garix."

They passed into the fringes of the Forge. Various forges at varying levels of sophistication sprawled out through this area of the Shadow Temple. Some, of course, were locked and guarded - the sorts of places where the Teroch'dha's weapons were made, or where Arksis Nan kept his personal study. They began looking for a good place to bide their time.

"I was told once that Kishkumen had a private laboratory here, from which all the other Cult forges grew. I don't doubt he kept a private workroom, and he was certainly the Cult's first specialized materials alchemist, but - well, he was supposed to have some kind of hidden redoubt. It might still be there, if Arksis hasn't taken it over - and I doubt that. Nobody wants to be a successor; everyone wants to be better than what came before. He'll have his own place. I doubt there's anything really valuable there, but if I can find it through this thing, who knows..." She hefted the tomahawk lightsabre, ducked into a side room with Asemir, and closed her eyes. Knowledge by Instinct, Velok called it - the ability to pluck passwords, names, and so forth from the ether. The ability to be right about things. A tricky business, and one that required depth of connection that she hadn't developed before Hagron and the Jukre teachings. The currents of the Force were muddied and confused here, but with Kishkumen's own lightsabre - an alchemical tool without peer, undoubtedly used many times in the laboratory - she should be able to set up a Jukre-style resonance that matched Knowledge by Instinct.

After some time, she opened her eyes. "I think I've found it. Five or six levels down, that way. As we get closer I'll be able to tell with greater certainty."

Staying wary, they projected a sense of assurance, of being where they were supposed to be - and both were hooded. The Cult's gigantic numbers, once again, worked in the infiltrators' favour. She found the sealed-off forge nestled in an inconvenient location.

"The seal's broken," said Asemir.

Ashin's lips thinned. She checked their hoods were up, checked her armour was working, clipped the lightsabre to the small of her back, and pushed open the round metal door. Inside was a strange sight indeed: an Eradicator droid, belabouring metal stock with a large hammer. Something felt...off about the droid. It continued hammering as they came inside, but then it laid the hammer down and turned to face them. "More of the new regime, come to challenge the old man?" The droid spoke with its own tone but a human's inflection, a genuinely intimidating mix. "I've not had the pleasure."

Kishkumen's presence rolled over Ashin. But his visitations had begun during the preparations for Quintas...a time when she'd largely avoided wearing Contempt. He didn't recognize the armour, apparently, nor know its effects. Could they really be this lucky? "We wanted to see for ourselves," she said, fabricating madly. "Lord Arksis is being somewhat close-mouthed about your return."

"As if I would ever need to cultivate followers - between the Lost Twenty and my ties to the Shadow Keepers, I have all the support I need. And yet some things are more important. Hasn't he realized yet that I don't intend to challenge him at this juncture? You can take that back to your master."

Here he was, the man who'd made her young life hell, the man who'd first introduced the Cult to her and Lyn and Ember and the Jade Empire - returned from a well-deserved death, possessing a droid of all things. She knew she should be terrified, but she pressed on. She would do what she had to do. "Some of us would rather learn from you. Lord Arksis is not the only alchemist in the Shadow Temple."

The droid moved closer, a graceful motion that underscored the Eradicator model's seamless use of kinetic energy. "That armour...your work?"

"I had some help, but yes, it's my work."

"Help. A...strange notion around here. I wonder what you bargained for it, young hooded Master. So. You and your silent friend would see the great Kishkumen at work?" The droid gestured to the forge machines that filled the room. In a corner, a shiny half-assembled machine boasted Korriban crystals. More crystals stood out from the strange object on the wide anvil. "Sit and learn, then. If you have a question, ask it. If you don't, stay silent and merely observe. I confess death has done great things for my patience, but time is running out."

With a mental shrug to Asemir, Ashin sat. It was as good a place to bide their time as any, and closer than most to the important things - and they might even learn something in the process. If her association with Sirena, Velok and Mordavo had told her anything, it was that Dark Masters generally had a bubble around themselves - to stay within the sphere of influence of an apex predator was to be more or less safe from all the other predators. And she knew Kishkumen - she could handle this. Without him recognizing her. The armour, she realized belatedly, scrambled not only her and Asemir's presences but the presence of his own lightsabre at her belt. She was still unsure of his final loyalty, but that was a question for another time. For now...

 

[Ashin Varanin]

I see what this is. I see what you're trying to learn.

I'M NOT THE ONE WHO HAS TO LEARN​

No. You saw that I saw something at Quintas, at the accretion disc. You're looking for-

THIS IS ABOUT YOU​

It's always about me. Except this time, it's really not. You're skipping through Arcanix, leaving out Akain, leaving out Cortann's blade, leaving out Teshran - you're missing Kishkumen fighting on the plain and the amulet. I can't believe you're skipping the amulet. But I know what you want to see.

NO​

You coveted it.

EVERYONE DID​

You won't find it in here, not in the Arcanix fight. That wasn't the first time.

IT WAS THE FIRST TIME YOU WALKED​

But not the first time I used it. That came later. Much later. I wasn't you, to wave big sticks around. I learned that from you, but that came later too.

LONG AFTER I WAS OUT OF THE PICTURE​

WITH NO BIRTHRIGHT​

When did you start thinking you deserved anything from me?

WHEN YOU TOOK EVERYTHING FROM ME​

​

Fifteen years ago
Battle of Arcanix
Unknown Regions

Ashin sat up a little straighter; her half-formed question - latest in a long string - died on her lips. The Eradicator swung around as a familiar figure came through the door: a woman with tendrils for hair, a flexible exoskeleton, and the vestigial wings of a tuk'ata. A loose robe flapped open around her, revealing nothing that wasn't covered by hard shell - a bizarrely unflattering nudity. "Teshran's challenged me, Kish," she snapped. "The Ashen Expanse, tomorrow. Who're they?"

"Some of Arksis' people, here to spy and learn. Challenged you - for Shadow Keeper? Siriss..."

"I know. He's good - he's very good. Get out, both of you."

Ashin exchanged a glance with Asemir and politely filed out of Kishkumen's forge. She'd spotted a disused supply room on the way here, not far - they could wait out the night there, if they welded the door shut or something.

 

[Ashin Varanin]

If you're after what I think you're after, we're almost here. But like I said, you'll be disappointed. No matter how much you skip through my memory, what you want isn't something I saw or heard. It's something I became.

Fifteen years ago
Battle of Arcanix
Unknown Regions

The constant renewal of the layered mind-shields threw her, to some extent. She'd explored the possibility - there were few she hadn't explored, at any level of telepathy - but at this level there weren't many sparring partners worth the effort. And thus, she'd never actually faced it. It was...refreshing.

Time. This was about time. It got simpler when she realized that Teshran's mind-shields were as close to flawless as to make no difference...and that he was creating them very quickly. The first factor meant she didn't have to pick between several potential shatterpoints and weigh the possibilities. She naturally gravitated towards the one or two minor flaws she sensed in each. The second factor meant that she could focus more on edge and force than on finesse, and with those came a slight increase in speed. She was racing to cut him down as he raced to build his shields up, and meanwhile-

A flicker of precognition. She scrambled back; the lightsabre drew a line up her carapaced chest between her breasts. The kiai'ta shifted to a one-handed grip; with her right hand, she drew her shorter makizash. The scramble shifted into a long solid stance, and then a back stance as her momentum bled away. Her bare feet gripped the rock, slipping a very little in the ash. As Teshran came in again, she moved into a two-sword defense and assault, using the long kiai'ta to block and striking back with the short sword.

In the back of her mind, the very back, she became aware that something felt...off. As if he was biding his time. He wasn't letting her exhaust herself - she could go for days like this without burning herself out; she was a specialist and he knew that - he could be throwing fire and lightning and Sith Magic at her, knowing that the longer you let a telepath at you, the worse your chances. Nor did he seem like he was toying with her.

She pressed him, marking time, continuing to batter at his defenses. He was waiting for something. Well, she could wait too, and in the meantime-

 

[Ashin Varanin]

I SEE THROUGH YOU​

And they say I have hubris. Go on, try a different spot. I won't mind.

Fifteen years ago
Battle of Arcanix
Unknown Regions


The timer counted down in Ashin's skull, courtesy of her Jade Empire ComTac implant. In the morning, she and Asemir got into position. They slipped into Kishkumen's forge after the Dark Lord left to attend his lover's duel. It wasn't as critical to the Cult's war effort as it had been, back in the day, but as a pit stop it made sense. Ashin went first to the terminal and plugged in a slicer module prepared by Sarastro himself - Sith slicer, and precocious student of Kishkumen. It breached Kishkumen's security within five minutes and copied the entire database of projects, principles and mathematical models.

Meanwhile, Ashin and Asemir broke things. A lightsabre blade through an alchemical furnace accomplished plenty. She picked up a couple of small amulets in the process.

The module beeped. She freed it and slashed her weapon through the computer a few times. Leaving Kishkumen's forge room in ruins, they headed for the armory.

The alarms began to blare just as they stepped through the door. Asemir's songblade and Ashin's Tak-forged Force Sword bit through the few Cultists present without undue noise, an efficient and timely ballet of gore. Ashin sheathed her blade and unclipped Kishkumen's lightsabre. The tomahawk head that projected from the grip was enchanted with powerful runes and rites, a mastercraft tool and weapon in one. She pulled an alchemical sword from the racks and used the unlit sabre as a tomahawk. The sword split like rotten ice.

She continued breaking things. All the things.

 

[Ashin Varanin]

This next bit tastes different. You didn't get this from me.

VELOK'S MEMORIES ARE A DECICRED A DOZEN​

AND THIS ONE MORE THAN MOST​

HE NEVER STOPPED TELLING THIS STORY​

NOR SHOWING OFF WHAT HE TOOK FROM KISHKUMEN​

THE GAME YOU AND HE PLAYED ON THAT...WORTHY SOUL​

​

Fifteen years ago
Battle of Arcanix
Unknown Regions

"It's time."

Consensus had been reached. Velok leaped forward, grabbed Bos Ten Kam by the throat, and broke the Sorcerer's neck with a sigh. "Finally." He threw the Elomin to the cave floor, into the circle created by Anansis and Sirena. His blood and power flowed into the circle, a sacrifice to power the coming storm. Seren turned from the cave entrance and cast his power into the mix. Sirena gave hers only after Velok and Anansis contributed theirs. The cave shook. Sirena took charge of the combined powers of five Masters of the Dark Side.

Reality ripped.

A gigantic Force Storm formed on the Ashen Expanse, where the bulk of the Cult fought, and into the Shadow Temple itself. Kilometres wide, it was a weapon designed to chew Star Destroyers into shrapnel. Crisscrossing spears of virulent red energy slashed into dirt and bone, walls and bedrock. Kishkumen raised his arms, raised his hammer, and embraced the void. The wisdom he'd learned in death sang in him. He would break and refine the Cult, which had grown so diffuse and so weak since his day - since the founding days. He remembered Irsolee and the first time he'd taught Arksis. He remembered power, and pride; now, he saw grasping and flailing masses, and it disgusted him.

And so, as per his agreement with the ectomancer Seren Mordavo, forged after his death, he brought the storm down upon the Ashen Expanse with even greater ferocity, linking his great power to the bond that drove it. Cultists, beasts, whatever happened to be in the way of the raging storm began to die. And those that died were torn apart, their spirits violently drawn to the now-glowing circle of crystals within the cave. Their power, too, poured into the ritual. The machine of Korriban Crystals that Kishkumen had promised Sivter - under Lost Twenty guard, hidden within the Shadow Temple - grabbed into the Force Storm and duplicated it with all the power of Korriban. The guards died instantly; their power fed the weave.

And the Storm began to grow.

***

Inside the armoury, defending it against many foes, Ashin and Asemir suddenly found themselves beseiged by random energies that tore through their enemies and threatened to do the same to them. They stood back to back, Force attunement strained to the maximum, holding back the energy.

What's going on?

Some plan of Sivter's. Can you hold?

I can hold. This is bad, but I can hold. A spear of energy rebounded from Contempt, warming the flesh underneath; she grunted and exerted her full rage as her hair began to crisp.

 

[Ashin Varanin]

Ahhh, you found it.

I AM NOT LOOKING FOR POWER​

Then you're an idiot, because you obviously crave it.

Fifteen years ago
Battle of Arcanix
Unknown Regions

The storm - propelled by the will of six Masters, some of whom could have given Sivter a run for his money - ripped itself away from the Shadow Temple, the Ashen Expanse, and Sivter's attempt to drain it. It moved at speeds best suited to the star battles it was known for, and began to chew into the Schrai Hive and the catacombs below. The deaths of Schrai fed the storm.

Deep in the Shadow Temple, Schrai and cultists broke through locked doors and smashed Kishkumen's machine. Korriban Crystals scattered across the floor. Some cultists picked them up, either from greed or to contain them...

...and were possessed by the souls of the Lost Twenty who had died when the machine was activated. Lightsabres ignited again, and though the Schrai cut them down, they didn't die easily. Fanatics never do.

***

The storm gained in fury, though to the spacetime-senses Ashin had gained from her time with the black hole, most of it felt like it was elsewhere. The chaotic nature of it meant that some places got hit hard one moment, less so the next. And so it was relatively calm before Asemir blew up the room - leaving nothing but char, molten metal, and the indestructible swords she'd broken. It was similarly calm moments later, when Arksis Nan walked through the door. Ashin hissed, amulets and crystal shards jangling against the shoulders of her armour. But being recognized by her face didn't matter anymore; nor, really, did the armour that kept her Force signature and Asemir's from being recognized.

She glanced through a door into another gallery, similarly destroyed. A dark robed figure stood at the far end - a powerful one. Stronger than her, certainly...but not by much.

"You've got this one - I'll take the other."

She moved away from Asemir, unsheathing once more her Tak-forged sword. She crossed the blasted, melted armory gallery to face Obscurus. A stray banner of crimson energy, part of the storm, flashed between them, leaving holes in both walls. In this chaos, the Force writhing around them, anyone would have trouble recognizing a presence. "I don't know you, but you care to dance?"

A dozen puddles of molten metal rose from the blackened floor and shot towards him from all angles.