The Wayward Gun
.
Shadow of the Empress
Location: Jutrand
Tag:
Quinn Varanin
Armor:
S-6 "Eclipse" Class Legion Combat Armor
Weapons:
HG-88 Big Iron
SD-L1 Long Blaster
HESTIZO-201 "Silverrain" Vaccine
1 x VB-113 "Tidefall" Class Vibroblade
Gear:
Slicing Glove
DS-102 "Aegis" Personal Energy Shield
Sentinel Tech Gloves
VKA-7J "Hurricane" Combat Stimulant
G1 Omni Link
The rain never stopped on Jutrand.
Well, it did, absolutely it did, but at the time Alana was on patrol, it didn't seem to.
At current, the rain came down in thin sheets, hissing as it met the city's burning-red neon signs and the blackened duracrete of the Sith capital. Alana's boots struck the slick pavement in steady, deliberate steps, the weight of her rifle comfortable in her grip.
Jutrand was a fortress of a planet—cold, imposing, a city built on fear and control. The capital was a maze of towering spires and shadowed underlevels, where Sith Lords schemed above and enforcers like her ensured obedience below. The sad thing was, that Alana felt she had been to far worse planets in her life. She mulled on this as she stepped onto a turbo lift, and pondered on her way up.
Her patrol route cut through one of the upper districts, where the glow of the upper city made the night melt away. It was quiet. Too quiet. The usual hum of activity—the distant swoop of speeders, the murmur of civilians wary of drawing attention—had faded into something else. Something tense.
She felt it before she heard it. A disturbance.
There was a shrill buzzing at the back of her mind. It was familiar in a way, but not in the sort she wished to revist.
The neon-red glow of Sith banners bled into the slick pavement, reflecting a city that never truly slept. Alana Calloway's cloak was already soaked through, droplets trailing down the edges of her helmet as she trudged through her patrol.
She disliked nights like this—empty streets, busy mind, nothing but the sound of her own boots sloshing through puddles and the occasional comment over comms. The storm had driven most inside, save for the occasional Sith Acolyte scurrying between buildings, clutching their robes against the wind. Or the rather creepy droids that at times idled around. Then the rare lunatic cultist.
Lightning split the sky, illuminating the looming structure to her left as she rounded the corner. The Sith library.
It had a specific name, she was certain. But frankly, saying Sith names aloud seemed like a good way to end up with ghosts.
And Alana was not about ghosts, at all.
While the library wasn't on her route, the idea of spending another hour drenched and pacing the city's perimeter felt like a slow death via boredom. Besides, she could justify it—a quick check inside, make sure no intruders were lurking where they shouldn't be. Maybe something something, Jedi Shadows or whatever they were called.
Alana still wasn't entirely sure what those were, but it sounded pretty serious. So she made a choice.
With a minor deviance from her route, Alana made for the entrance. The heavy doors hissed open, and she stepped into the dimly lit interior, shaking off the cold as the scent of aged parchment and ozone greeted her. The temperature shift sent a shiver up her spine. However as she walked, the very fact she felt the temperature change, alarmed her. This armor was sealed, that shouldn't have been possible, and yet....
The library was vast, its architecture a relic of an older era—high vaulted ceilings, stone pillars wrapped in dark iron, and towering shelves lined with knowledge both sacred and profane. Flickering red holocandles lit the walkways, their glow barely piercing the cavernous dark.
She passed rows of neatly arranged tomes and data-slates, the silence so thick it felt oppressive. This place was for scholars and sorcerers, not soldiers. She should leave.
But something pulled at her.
That oh so familiar sensation, tugged like a leash anchored to the base of her skull.
It didn't beckon for it. It demanded, her.
Dim red sconces lined the walls, casting jagged shadows over the ancient tomes and data-slates. The air was thick with the weight of history—secrets long buried, knowledge kept from those unworthy.
Her hands slowly moved upwards, taking up the sides of her helmet, as she released the seal. The library was empty at this hour, save for the occasional scholar buried in their studies. She had no business here.
And yet, something called to her all the same.
The pull—became urgent, remained insistent. It curled around her mind like a whisper, then strengthen into an obession. For a moment, she felt herself resist, trying to step back towards the way she had came.
Then, that pull lashed onto her, and she felt her body moving against her own inhibitions. Whatever it was, it was now guiding her deeper into the archive. Past neatly arranged shelves, past holocrons encased in protective stasis fields, past texts bound in cracked leather and inked in ancient languages.
Her fingers twitched at her side. She should walk away. She needed to stop.
But she didn't.
Her steps slowed as she reached an alcove hidden behind taller shelves. There, resting on a stone pedestal, was an unassuming tome. No grand ornamentation, no glowing runes—just a simple, black-bound book. Yet the Force coiled around it like a living thing, humming at the edges of her perception.
Alana exhaled, reaching out. The moment her fingertips brushed the cover, a jolt shot up her arm. A multitude of reasons crashed upon her mind, why she should stop, why she should leave. There was nothing she wanted here, there was no reason to be here-
Darth
She felt her lips move, recalling a title from the depths of her mind.
Images flashed through her mind—battlefields soaked in blood, Sith Lords bending reality to their will, entire worlds consumed in fire and shadow.
Her breath hitched, but she didn't pull away. She couldn't pull away. She found herself beholden to the alien sensation, she had to read.
Insatious
She finished the name, it tasted foul at the edge of her tongue, her eyes wincing, feeling ill from having merely mouthed it.
She flipped it open. The pages were lined with crimson ink, shifting under her gaze as though alive. Spells. Rites. Forbidden techniques. Some she recognized, many she didn't.
But one thing was clear: this was not a book meant for just anyone. Certainly not for her.
She felt herself held captive by the texts, her mind going blank as she stared at the alien language, the tug, the leash, whatever sensation that had brought her here now released her.
So, now she stood. A lone Echani soldier, clad in her Sith armor, staring at a book that felt all too familiar to her.
If only she could make sense of it all.
