Steel Within the Shadows (Akio Diachi)

[Xevek Nekonis]

Death.

Such a simple word that help such a simple meaning but could caused such a large amount of change based on who suffered from the cold grasp of death. Five letters. That's it. Five letters that could be the difference between whether the song of the tales of living beings spun itself into a dark crescendo of pain and further death or a gentle harmony of peace. A word that help such an impact with every civilisation, enough so that at least one religion of every being usually had at least on God who's job it was to manage those that left the mortal coil.

Death.

Something that was about to be granted upon the squabbling group of politicians that squabbled beneath the yellow, half seeing gaze of a living shadow that was perched above them. The childish whining over who would get what out of the power play that these mali'kep were planning to follow through with and who would get the most power grated upon the nerves of the shadow. But he remained still, unnoticed and unblinking as he waited. Waited for the perfect moment upon which death would be delivered to these jendnouk gunsosen with a single, unseen and unexpected series of attacks.

Yellow eyes blinked slowly as the shadow's mind cast back into how he had arrived in the room, scoffing over the arrogance of the gunsosen.

It had been simple. His employer, a simple butler who his targets had deemed as bellow their notice had informed him of the planning location of the coup. This act, speaking out against those that paid him his wages, was born not out of vengeance out of his neglected treatment by his employers. No, this employee acted differently than how many would of expected the young human to do so, acting out of loyalty to blood over greed and vengeance.

The butler's brother, a high ranking politician that ran within the same circles as the weaklings bellow the shadow, was one of the coups targets, a death mark painted on his back all due to having a policy that completely rejected the arrogant desires of the greed fill plotters.

With the location of his dance of death set, the shadow had not needed to track down his targets and had instead focussed on the barriers between he and his prey. To his surprise, there had been little to no guards, the arrogance of his prey ensuring that they weakened themselves by believing that they could not, would not be caught.

A movement bellow brought a feral smile to the shadow's face as one of the targets wandered around the table to come to a stop beneath the mass of hidden Zabrak. With a quick flick of his only wrist, his left arm lost, three needles tore unseen through the air, the almost invisible liquid poison that coated their tips flashing in the low lighting of the room. In the same movement, the same flick of the wrist, the weapon fastened to his middle finger by a simple ring span, before coming to rest in a cradle of his clawed fingers.

Before the flying needles could even impact with their target's soft throats, administrating the lethal poison they carried to three of the ten targets where it would quickly break down the wall of their veins causing massive internal bleeding, the shadow was falling through the air and coming into view, his held weapon poised to enter the throat bellow where the barbed tip would tear the artery apart.

Soon, in a few seconds, four accounts of death would be caused by the hand of Xavka Duquo, Sith Assassin.

Death, such a heavy word.



@Akio Diachi

 

[Akio Diachi]

Akio was dressed perfectly. Aside from a few modifications to suit his slight frame, the extravagant uniform perfectly resembled the other guard's. Akio recalled vividly buying several rounds of Corellian ale for one of the guards here that was off duty. Then as the poor fool stumbled his way through the allies, it had been a simple matter to snap his neck and rob him of the precious uniform. He died quickly and quietly. It was more than he deserved with the way he spoke of those women. Despite his cold detatchment, some things did still incite a sense of indignation in him.

They didn't even require ID at the door, he was just waved in with a passive glance. Akio was quite sure the guards at the door would be regretting their decision in the morning. An easy job has no honor. At the end, he would have the substantial amount of money. But that was little to sooth his sense of disappointment.

In the Turbolift Akio brushed his hand against his thigh. The poisoned daggers was still in its sheath. They were not his beloved katana, but they would do for this job, they were much easier to hide. The challenge makes it better. Still, the art of using a different weapon didn't console Akio much. The Chiss sighed. He was genuinely put out, but he maintained his calm demeanor and alert behavior. Even the easiest jobs can get lethal very quickly.

His mind went over the targets one more time. Politicians. What had they done? It doesn't matter. All that matters is their deaths are canvases for me to make art.

His mind ran over the possible stabbing and slicing zones; which would be the most unique, which would be the quickest, and which would be the goriest. The Turbolift stopped. Akio stepped out into the dark half-lit hall. Not too far away was the conference room where the targets were located. His red eyes glowed from the twilight as Akio drew two of his knives and began stalking towards the targets. No mercy. No rage. Pure honor.

 

[Xevek Nekonis]

A loud thud vibrated around the room as the combined body weight of one living Zabrak and the dead weights of a former politician, forced to retire from his position by an unfortunate case of being killed, was driven into the floor by the momentum carried through from the fall Xavka had just taken. The Emeici was driven sharply into the body which lay prone beneath the Assassin, the man's death rattle still not escaping his lips.

Leering in a twisted, insane manner, the cowl covering his head hiding most of his visage from view, only exposing his scarred lips and pointed, blood-stained teeth, as a mocking chuckle wheezed from his throat. "Four down, six to go. Come little birds, fly, fly, make this fun." As he finished speaking three more thuds rang out as the three men with poisoned needles sticking out of their necks, the metal shafts shining in the light, dropped to the floor, their legs no longer able to deal with the strain of holding the weight of dead men without signals from the brain directing the shifting of balance and the tensing of muscles.

For Xavka being an assassin was more than striking without being seen, delivering death unseen. To him it was almost a religion, something that he took as teachings and incorporated into his life. Shadows and Fear. That was what he revolved his work and life around. That was the reason behind his dramatic entrance. The shock would have worn of quickly and the men would of shouted out, drawing attention to Xavka and removing the unseen aspect from his job, so he had used fear, to freeze them further and to gain time.

The task had been accomplished by manipulating the Force in numerous ways at once. First he had weaved three, incomplete Illusions. Where as a regular Illusion bent the perceived reality of a target by making them experience the sight of something, Xavka stopped shot of providing the image, instead he implanted a suggestion that would take root within the target's subconscious and create a fake reality that they would believe. At that time, Xavka had three thoughts echoing through his prey's minds: 'Before you is a Beast of Death. Fear it.', 'The voice of the Beast terrorises you into freezing still.' and 'You will make no sound.'.

Straight after he had weaved the illusions, Xavka stood to his full, 6 foot plus height and threw back the cowl from his head, exposing his tanned face, yellow eyes and long silver hair that was tied back into a top-knot ponytail that reached to the base of his neck. The reason for his revealing of himself was simple, he had full confidence that the prey could no longer experience what he was doing in anything less than a blur.

Upon his ascension to the title of the Sin of Sloth, Xavka had been trained in a single Force Ability that represented the Sin: Force Slow. With Force Slow he could restrict that rate at which his target's neurons travelled through their nervous system. If he had enough time and focus, he could even come close to freezing them within time, their reactions slowed so much that it would take what seemed to them to be a second to react to something that happened a century ago. Even if he hadn't gone that far, Xavka new that these six would not be moving anytime soon, the illusions he had weaved buying him enough time to slow them.

Reaching into his robes, Xavka gave a slight tug near waist level. Straight afterwards the hissing of metal running over metal echoed within the room as a chain whip, made out of nine sections of metal rods plus a weighted dart at the end, uncoiled from its position as a belt to drop to the floor. Starting with moving his full arm before slowing decreasing the air of his body in motion, Xavka ended up with his wrist rapidly flicking to and fro as the now invisible metal links, tracked through the Force, whistled past his head. For a the only movement made by the Zabrak was off his wrist before he sprung into motion.

Throwing his body into the air to spin along a horizontal axis, the dart made contact with throat of one of the six survivors, tearing through it and ending his life. Five to go.

Landing from the spin, he advanced towards a second politician for a few steps before turning away. The result being that the man's chest had been torn open by numerous of high speed slashes from the thing chain. Four to go.

Releasing his grip on the chain, it went flying directly towards the third target's chest, guided by the weighted dart. With a thud it impacted, crushing the chest and ending the life of the third victim. Three to go.

Spinning around to face the door, Xavka flicked his hand out from where it had become nestled within his cloak. Once again the sight of three poison tipped darts flying through the air occurred within the room before the familiar sight of them hitting their targets, three separate throats, happened. Soon, the poison had spread and the remaining targets dropped to the floor.

All targets were dead.

Completing his spin, Xavka came to a stop, staring at the door. His chain soon came flying through the air towards him, called through usage of the Force, before it was once again wrapped around the Zabrak's waist, looking like a metal belt. Reaching back, the cowl was flicked back up, hiding his face from view.

"Come out little sneak. I can smell you!" Xavka's last statement was only partially true. His could smell the newcomer but he could also feel him through the Force, an ability Xavka had trained tirelessly in so that his blinded eye, his right, would not create a blindspot that could be taken advantage of by opponents.


@Akio Diachi

 

[Akio Diachi]

Akio reached the door the moment the slaughter began. Awe filled him as the master artisan before him dealt a raw, unrelenting barrage of death on ten victims. Anyone with slower reflexes, unfamiliar with the intense pace of combat would have missed it all like a blur. The blood of the targets was splattered over the walls, table and chairs, with every movement of the Zabrak. Even an ascended Master would do well to be in awe of this monster's precision.

Akio was drawn the most to his armory, which was only matched by the battle-hardened man's fluid movements. He had never seen such an array of lethal objects on one being before. In legends past, he heard, the gods had crafted items to be used to make art. The most desirous to use were the ones that inflicted the art of death. The gods had died long ago, slain my their own tools they created. Akio decided years ago that the gods had never existed and it was only a myth. He felt that if the gods were even real, they would never be slain by a mortal--until now. And now, he was confident, they were slain by nothing less these weapons.

By the time the last body fell, Akio felt a deep urge and hunger. Hunger of the soul that he had not felt, even during his time with the clansmen who had worked to suppress him. To change him. To make him cold and unfeeling. But here, now, he felt something. He desire. Hunger. The primal instinct was awakened in him once more, long dormant by extreme discipline. Long had Akio had a thirst for greatness but here, he found the thing that would raise him to it and he felt hunger for it. A thin layer of his discipline, stretched to its limits, was all that kept him from begging for the honor of being this master's pupil--or next victim.

The Chiss stepped out into the door way. He walked towards the Zabrak with dedication. He was well aware that in a second his body could become the next lifeless one. That did not matter. He will find a reason to take me. He will have a reason to show me what he knows. I know not how, but I will convince him. Akio stopped halfway into the room. He drew his four poisoned daggers slowly, dropping each on the floor in submission before bowing and kneeling.

"My name is Akio Diachi," He began, his head lowered. "Never before have I seen such art in death. And never again I will, I am certain. Long have I searched for the honor gained in serving death. All my life I have searched for someone to show me the art of how to kill. My masters of old knew nothing compared to your skills with the weapons and your power over the minds of others." He looked up at the powerful assassin, his red eyes burned with passion and lust for power, "I beg you to teach me. I pledge myself and my honor to you before the ascended masters--only teach me how to commit such acts."

[member="Xavka Duquo"]

 

[Xevek Nekonis]

A dark chuckle emerged from the shadowed hood of Xavka at Akio's actions. For a moment he had tensed upon the emergence of the four daggers but he had relaxed with a cocked head as each blade dropped to the floor with a clatter

Slowly he approached, slipping his throwing needles back into the sleeves of his cloak. Stopping a short distance from the kneeling form of Akio Diachi, Xavka stared silently at the man for a few moments, looming over him, before the Zabrak spoke, his voice kept smooth despite the gravelly undertone.

"That is because your former teachers did not know how to be a true disciple of the shadows. For all of their knowledge with weapons, with all of their knowledge with poisons, they clung to their personal beliefs, never accepting the allure of the darkness before subjugating it as it natural. They never learnt to become one with the shadows, to absorb its mentality and accept it as a core belief of your very beings, engraved within your soul."

Xavka stopped speaking to pace before the kneeling Chiss. Every few steps he would turn sharply, his cloak flaring behind him and repeating the process. Eventually he came to a sudden stop and stretched his only hand out to Akio.

"Swear yourself to me! Take me as your Master in the Ways of Assassination, swear yourself as my student, and I shall teach you. Know, I will never teach all, you must learn most on your own, carving your life song through experience. But, I will teach you the Art of many weapons, the Principles of the Shadows. What say you, Akio Diachi?"


@Akio Diachi

 

[Akio Diachi]

The lure of power was stronger than Akio could stand. He had bathed himself in the blood of his victims before. Now, he would willingly do it again a thousand times to learn these powers. A simmering idea crept through his head, he does not believe I can learn. He thinks that I am too weak. I will show him. I will prove myself.

Akio's head never moved from the bowed position. Out of the corner of his eye he saw [member="Xavka Duquo"] extend his hand. That was all he needed. He had never had a choice before, raised by his former Umbarian masters, they never extended a choice. This time he had one, and he would seize it with both hands, never looking back.

"I swear, Master, to be your student," Akio vowed, as if the words came from his soul instead of his mouth. "I swear to learn the sweet drippings of your learning that fall from your blades with the blood of your enemies. I swear to adhere to all you teach me," he raised his eyes barely, "until sweet death consumes me--and beyond."

A blissful chill ran up his spine. He had forsaken the teachings of his former masters. It was clear this new one would be ten times more brutal, but few would question that he would also be ten times more effective.

 

[Xevek Nekonis]

Reaching up, Xavka pulled back his cowl, revealing his face to the kneeling man. His eyes, a mix of yellow and orange - an orange that was slowly fading as his manipulation of the Force drained out, one dulled with blindness the other sharp with sight. His Jat'o, tattoos formed from a mildly poisonous ink, that crossed across his features. His grey hair that took on a blue sheen when clumped together, as it currently was in the top-knot ponytail. His Orat, his horns, that peaked through the layers of hair and patterned his forehead. And his lips, twisted in a wry smile.

When he spoke, his voice was slightly calmer and less menacing, but was still low and gravelly. "You do realise how weird that sounded, right?" The dry, sarcastic humour was obvious in his tone, dripping from his voice. "'Sweet drippings of your learning that fall from your blades'?" He chuffed a small chuckle. "Get up." He reoffered his hand to the Chiss before him.

Once the Chiss was back on his feet. Xavka reached into his robes to withdraw a datapad. After messing with it for a while he passed it, along with a comm unit, to Akio, explaining as he so.

"On the datapad are coordinates for Iridonia that your are to report in three days by the Galactic Standard Calendar, this will give me time to prepare your lessons. Bring enough resources for three weeks, by the Galactic Calendar again, of desert survival with you. There is only one contact on the comm unit, my own. Any questions and you are to contact me. You will find me a harsh teacher, but a fair man unless pushed. You are to ask any questions you have, no matter what. Do this and I will answer to the best of my ability."

Xavka paused, staring at Akio for a few seconds before speaking two words with a raised brow. "Any questions?"


@Akio Diachi

 

[Akio Diachi]

Akio took the datapad. He chided himself for his attempt at poetry when duressed. Even on its best days, anything more than a haiku sounded, at best, worthy of derision.

He examined the co-ordinates on the datapad and made a few brief calculations on how to get there. Three days would be just enough time for him to steal his needed supplies and get there. He could handle cold teachers, hard teachers, teachers who beat him into submission in the past, and used the then-child Chiss to murder innocent villagers. It came with the territory, he would expect nothing less. "I understand, master. I shall not disappoint you."

He stowed both of the electronics in his pockets and retrieved his knives. He would need them later when he stowed away and hijacked a ship to get where he needed. When on-world he could sell it to a chop-shop and use the profits to obtain his next batch of supplies for the three weeks in the desert. Or if nothing else, I could steal them too.

The term fair, did however strike him oddly. Before he had served under "fair" masters that had discriminated against him because he was a Chiss and not an Umbarian. Considering the Zarak was not a member of an isolated, xenophobic warrior caste, he felt his chances here were greater than before. The times ahead would be destructive and dangerous, and he was confident that there would be more scars added to his small body by the end of it, but that didn't matter. He bowed respectfully and left the building. There was little time to loose and he had no intention of wasting any of it.

 

[Xevek Nekonis]

Xavka watched with amusement glinting in his eyes as he watched his new student leave his presence without a word and only a bow. At least he know had an idea of at least on aspect of the Chiss: he was extremely used to getting by on his own showing a lot of independence.

Chuckling softly, Xavka turned away from the doors to the bloody sight of his work. The amusement left him quickly as his face dropped into an emotionless mask. 'Time to get to work. Can't leave anything that could be linked back to me lying around, after all.'



OOC Note: Sorry if this is a bit too short.