nightshrike
No rest for the wicked.
Even with the galaxy aflame with the war against the Sith, the evil at home did not sleep. In fact, it fed upon the numerous opportunities the war had opened to expand its reach. Thirty-three souls devoured by the gluttonous maw of that evil emerged on Coruscant in the cargo of an unsuspecting hauler from Empress Teta. Two things stood out - the unnaturally clean head decapitations and the symbolic mark engraved on each forehead. The latter was the reason Dagon was dragged into the mess; he didn't like it, with the war going in full force and all, and neither did the Marshalls.
But when did Marshalls like anything that wasn't cheap booze and a strip joint?
He picked up a few copies of the crime scene holography from the forensics department and began his own research. Locked up for days in his quarters in the Jedi Temple, refusing, out of embarrassment, to seek help from the person who would know best - Aeris Lashiec. The Archivist. After the disaster Viers Connory and he caused in the library, Dagon was evading the Jedi Library like the scourge. Rumors ran amok that Aeris had put on a restraining order on Viers and him from the library but he really did not want to find out if that was a joke or not.
Until that was the only option left.
The Jedi made like the shadows, ghosting through the hallways of the massive library, reluctantly asking assistants for the Archivist's location. After what felt like an hour, Dagon caught her organizing some holobooks on one of the hundreds of shelves. Of course, no smile evident on her face. He kept peaking from the corner of the shelf till he feigned siphoning the humiliation off his system and approached her from behind. Not shirtless this time, thankfully.
"Hey Aeris, got a, uh, minute?" he scratched the back of his head.
Aeris Lashiec
Even with the galaxy aflame with the war against the Sith, the evil at home did not sleep. In fact, it fed upon the numerous opportunities the war had opened to expand its reach. Thirty-three souls devoured by the gluttonous maw of that evil emerged on Coruscant in the cargo of an unsuspecting hauler from Empress Teta. Two things stood out - the unnaturally clean head decapitations and the symbolic mark engraved on each forehead. The latter was the reason Dagon was dragged into the mess; he didn't like it, with the war going in full force and all, and neither did the Marshalls.
But when did Marshalls like anything that wasn't cheap booze and a strip joint?
He picked up a few copies of the crime scene holography from the forensics department and began his own research. Locked up for days in his quarters in the Jedi Temple, refusing, out of embarrassment, to seek help from the person who would know best - Aeris Lashiec. The Archivist. After the disaster Viers Connory and he caused in the library, Dagon was evading the Jedi Library like the scourge. Rumors ran amok that Aeris had put on a restraining order on Viers and him from the library but he really did not want to find out if that was a joke or not.
Until that was the only option left.
The Jedi made like the shadows, ghosting through the hallways of the massive library, reluctantly asking assistants for the Archivist's location. After what felt like an hour, Dagon caught her organizing some holobooks on one of the hundreds of shelves. Of course, no smile evident on her face. He kept peaking from the corner of the shelf till he feigned siphoning the humiliation off his system and approached her from behind. Not shirtless this time, thankfully.
"Hey Aeris, got a, uh, minute?" he scratched the back of his head.
Aeris Lashiec