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A hint of a hitched breath, a grin that disappeared behind the edge of her drink. It was a forbidden lull, but enticing in spite of it; a familiar presence in which the resting beast would find herself at her most relaxed. She wasn't a person steeped in the Force like so many at the ball, but she could still appreciate the caress of darkness that [member="Matsu Xiangu"] exuded. The whole Dark side and Light side thing that so many liked to go on about wasn't really her thing, but there was no denying that the Sith before her was nothing more than a monster. A monster with a good fashion sense, granted, but a monster nonetheless.
Takes one to know one.
Her tongue sneaked out to flick at the sharp teeth as her blue gaze shifted to the former Jedi. His discomfort was palpable, rolling off of him in waves and clashing with the sense of enjoyment and joviality that seemed to permeate the hall. Quite rude of the man, really, always out to spoil the fun for everyone.
"Good boy," she cooed, grinning like a knife as [member="Hal Terrano"] squirmed on the spot. It was so easy to unsettle him these days; just a small pull on one of his strings, and the pale puppet danced the way she wanted.
Her cool eyes slid across the crowd then, catching a momentary flicker of something blue and not entirely corporeal amid the mass of moving bodies, but before the Sith could focus on the apparition, the voice of an announcer rang out across the chamber, and her attention shifted again. Blood-colored lips pulled back into a full-blossomed grin at the delightful news, a flash of teeth that wasn't a display of anger, but rather of morbid joy and curiosity coursing anew through her veins.
Her hand on the small of his back drifted lower again, just a small reminder that he should behave. At this moment, the two were here together, and any foolish action on his part would reflect poorly on the Hand of the Dark Lord. And you don't want that. You really, really don't.
"Go on, Hal," she said, gesturing towards the many tables laden with drink and food. It was all quite enticing, truly, but the promise of the outdoors entertainment was simply too great to resist. She could always come and feast later; the Jedi, however? There would be nothing to look at but cooling corpses in an hour's time, and Vrag would hate to miss a good show.
As the pale man on her arm would know — and know well — she did so like to watch.
There was nothing to be gained by subjecting him to this particular display of violence and hunger that thrummed in the hearts of the ravenous partygoers like a coiled beast. He would only break further, and picking pieces of Hal off the floor was the last thing she needed or wanted tonight.
"Don't worry, someone will keep an eye on you," the woman gave him a small push in that direction then, not so much a request as a thinly veiled order.
"Well, then," she spoke as she turned to look at the petite Sith Lady again. "Would you care to join me on a walk through the gardens, Matsu?" Vrag offered her free arm with a coy smirk, her blue eyes twinkling at the prospect of fun on the horizon.
The young Pantoran bowed his head politely as she accepted his invitation to unshackle her.
"As you wish."
He spoke softly, acceding to her request. Setting the tray down on the ground, the boy straightened back up and then moved close to the woman. Close enough that he could smell her. She didn't smell nice. She didn't smell like a girl. Not now or, at least, not anymore.
He knew that smell. It reminded him of home actually. Or sadly.
Coruscant. O Coruscant. You with your spires, blotting out the sky from those who dwelt deep in the shadow of your sewers. Had you no word of kindness for those forsaken people? Dying in puddles of mud and filth. Decaying in piles of human waste.
It was a crime to be poor on Coruscant. You never saw the sky, never breathed fresh air. Entombed in a cage of metal and glass, with more and more of the city stacked on top of you, so that the good people who could afford to live on Coruscant didn't have to smell you. Or see you. Or even know that you were there.
His touch was light, careful not to irritate the flesh which may have become raw beneath the metal. One by one, the chains which bound her fell away from her arms, legs, and finally her neck. That last part was actually somewhat difficult for him. He had to turn his head off to the left as he worked the lock around her neck so not to be eye-level with her chest. Perhaps for that reason, the boy's face was dusted with a shade of violet as he blushed faintly.
Having finished freeing her from her bindings, the boy bowed his head as he stepped back to allow her privacy in which to finish her water and make her final preparations.
The boy turned, pivoting neatly on his heel as he took the third step away from the Togruta. The silver handle of the lightsaber caught the light, as he unhooked it from his belt. The black leather bindings of the grip were familiar as he squeezed, feeling the stiff fibers biting into the flesh of his hand. He'd drawn the lightsaber in a reverse grip. He wasn't a Shien master, but he was a practitioner. And the occasions in which he drew his lightsaber were more customarily dealt with through the aimed deflection of blaster bolts, so he'd grown comfortable with the Shien style.
It had been awhile since he'd dueled someone wielding a lightsaber.
The boy's weapon came alive with a snap-hiss, echoing through the garden as the red blade cast crimson shadows across the boy's white tunic. The azure angel now looked bespattered and blood stained. Or perhaps this was revealing for what he was.
A demon from heaven, or else an angel from hell.
Flipping the grip around, the blade hummed as the boy adjusted how he held the lightsaber. Turning, his body off-center as he faced the woman, the Pantoran's stance was open and light.
And when he looked, it was as though she were his reflection in a mirror.
She knew Ataru.
Then the Host Lord might yet be pleased. This promised to be quite the show for their guests.
"As you wish," the boy echoed a second time. This offering not aimed at her, but rather to a Dark God. Whatever happened next, one of them would go to Balagoth's bosom. Or perhaps both of them.
An aura of cold stretched out from the youth as he sprang forward. Like the wind which blew across the tundras of Pantora, the blue-skinned boy was as quick and light as the breeze. The Dark Side of the Force accentuated his movements, lending him inhuman speed and a preternatural grace as the blood red blade came for the Togruta.
This wasn't a battle. This wasn't a duel.
This was a dance.
A waltz across the tenuous lines which so fragile separated life from death. As the first slash moved toward her, the Pantoran invited her to save the last dance for him.
Frankly, Gerion had no desire to know who or what was being executed. It was already quite annoying knowing capital punishments were taking place here in the middle of festivities. Knowing that it was a gaggle of wounded orphan puppies or something would only serve to agitate him further. They wandered over to a bar, whereupon Gerion finished his glass and exchanged it for another glass of wine. While he certainly wanted to slam down shots of Corellian whiskey until he was no longer perturbed by Cavill's presence or the fact that Ovmar was apparently grinding on someone who looked like Ms. Arceneau, it would not be proper of him to do so.
Unlike these Primeval riff-raff, he wasn't about to forget his allegiance to civilization.
Gerion could only clear his throat when Lorelei mentioned how at-ease he was here. One would think he'd have gotten use to it by now, but Cavill had been gone for a long time, and Disciple hadn't been heard from in decades. Despite whatever personal faults the rest of the Hegemony had, they were infinitely more pleasant. And less prone to mass murder.
"Oh, I've never been part of the One Sith, though I have done business with their preeminent corporation- Titan Industries. That began shortly after the Netherworld cataclysm."
The Umbaran nodded as the Host Lord spoke, and retracted his outstretched hand. He was a bit disappointed that she hadn't shaken his hand, but that didn't really matter at the moment. There were more pressing issues to deal with.
"Well, Host Lord, my name is Fareon, as I've said. I am an Umbaran, and my home was in Umbara. Right now, I am unaligned with anyone, and merely travel by myself, for the most part. I would; however, very much enjoy becoming your apprentice and joining whatever faction that you are the head of. I apologize if my forward request was found as rude; I suspected that at a party like this you had been hearing too many people being indirect. I don't have the stomach for it, myself."
He crossed his arms, and awaited another response. He looked into her eyes, hoping that she wouldn't be aggressive to him.
Before she could here some more from [member="Tmoxin Temi"] as she found it very intriguing difference in cultures and believes. Even so she couldn't with out being on her toes. As the one scoped out by her own eyes, now made his way over to him. This bring a smile upon her very lips, even more so as she study him, the way he moved. Knowing very more one could dress one up like herself but deep down one couldn't take what one truly was under.
Grinning more to his own words add upon hers. "Inger Stormfire, clan of Sabina of Midvinter. what could she say more lots more for now it wasn't one to give this one all he wanted to know about her. No for another time for now knowing when she was the prey or she was being stalked. "Warlord , you say Jacen of Ka'a"
Laguz… wasn't quite so anchored in the abstract, and though xe did occasionally venture in those realms, most of the time the shifter remained firmly entrenched in the world of the palpable. Some, if not most, would call the huntress a materialist and find that the insult wouldn't elicit much more than a smile and a wink. Maybe a blown kiss or a witty reply if they were lucky.
Today, however, she would do none of those things, because the shifter was too busy getting kissed — and other stuff — good and proper to really do anything else.
She didn't mind.
There was no sophistication in her the likes of which could be found in the essence of [member="Jared Ovmar"], and Laguz liked it that way. There was a sharpness to her edges where he had none, a coil to her thoughts where his were all-spanning. They were united for split moments in time before the difference drove them apart again, like two opposite ends of a spectrum trying to come together; it was a futile endeavor, and yet so exquisite a pursuit that Laguz wouldn't stop until every last drop of sweat had been shed.
Or until an eight-tentacled beast slunk from the shadows of the room and jumped to second base without so much as an introduction.
The spell was broken, and the shifter pulled back from her lover to slap away the questing appendage. Her green eyes found the owner of the writhing tentacle, annoyance and interest vying for dominance in her gaze as she stared at the creature.
For a second or so, the shifter was half-tempted to imitate its bloated form and give it a very personalized version of the finger, but she thought better before she scarred Ovmar for life and, more importantly, lost her lay for the evening. That would be quite the irksome turn of events, but she wasn't quite drunk enough to forget herself.
"Get out, slug," she finally spoke, reaching up to wipe at the smeared lipstick at the corner of her mouth. "This is a private party."
Bal’gul, he should have known the bloated spirited entity would find his way to this party and try to ruin his own little fun. It was simply the laws of the Universe that dictated that one could not have all the fun in the world, without someone wanting to ruin that fun with the same intensity you were just experiencing, but Jared was familiar with those laws more so than most others could claim. It was that same knowledge that made him decide against simply pushing Bal into another dimension…
Perhaps the one that is solely consisting of cheese?
No, that wouldn’t be a good idea. Someway he thought that might only bite him in the ass, equal expenditure of mass and energy would probably mean something would teleport into this room that was either equal or above the threat-level that Bal posed.
Shorn maybe.
Huh, Ovmar didn’t even know why that thought crossed his mind. He hadn’t thought about the Throne-Breaker for ages, literally so. But it didn’t matter in the end, because his current lover decided not to give him a metaphorical heart attack.
Not that that really would have happened.
Let’s just say that a few centuries traveling the universe, note the universe, not the galaxy- meant that he had a variety of experience. He would probably have just given them the room for a little while though, maybe some people liked to say that you had to try everything at least once.
But Ovmar didn’t think tentacle escapades were part of that saying. Instead he smoothly opened the door, wrapped the Force around his old-new associate and gently threw him out of the room.
‘We will talk about this when I am done here, Bal.’ he subtly mentioned in the thing’s mind as he passed him. ‘Go harass someone else in the meantime.’
Quick survey of the room made sure that nobody else was hiding in it, the door closed, was locked and then Ovmar locked his eyes with Laguz.
I wonder; For how long will this event drag out? How deep will the sun have to dive into the horizon before the guests here can finally withdraw?
It seemed like [member="Anja Aj'Rou"] was busy discussing something with the stranger, [member="Fareon"]. A man dressed in subtle and fashionable dark clothes. A straight-forward, confident man no doubt. Delyna stared at him for a short while, letting her eyes examine his stance and features. He seemed somewhat-truthful yet she doubted his story was true, especially considering his recent comment. Not that she really wanted to comment on it.
He was not supposed to be here, was he?
As he stopped speaking the Oracle shrugged to herself and let her eyes wander off once more. The pair she had observed earlier had left the room; Escaping the perception of the masses by finding a more private corner of the palace. She could go look for them later. Perhaps not. More interestingly, the splinter of the once-trio seemed to be mingling with others now. If a confrontation was to arise between them it would be without her knowledge, at least for now. Later in the night, when the celebrations were over, she could return to her chambers and study the matter intensely, perhaps finding an answer.
For a short glimpse of a second, Delyna realised someone else was by the prisoners in the court yard. Another Primeval force. A young dark side force user. Male, a Twi'lek? That or a Pantoran. He was in the process of performing some form of feat, releasing the prisoners or perhaps preparing them for the executions? He was not afraid, but so again; Most dark sided force users had oblitirated that particular sense from their primitive array of feelings. Yet he did not seem angry as most siths would, but more at peace. Tranquil, calm.
She whispered to herself, her silvery voice bearly audible to the two umbarans near her. "Ah, one of them is a twi'lek, the other is pantoran. I was not picking up different signs from the same person, but two different ones." The other person was one of the light sided people she had sensed earlier. For now, the attention of Delyna rested near the courtyard, leaving her a bit oblivious to the hostlord and their company..
Tmoxin had enough of this party and the threat of these executions which hadnt't materialized. She grabbed Hans Vaiden's arm and whispered into his ear, "You and I are getting out of here. I'd much rather enjoy a glass of wine with you on the Scourge than down here with these... crusaders?" Barbarians? What were they really? The Commander couldn't quite tell.
They had a room reserved on Bastion but that room would go empty. She would take Hans's arm and with some urgency and lead him out of the ball. The Scourge was where Tmoxin wanted to go with her Captain and private quarters on the ISD-II is where they would be.
After all of the musings regarding some bloody executions, the mention of a God of Death, and the pent-up anger at the Sith, Hans was fairly surprised to see himself keeping his cool. While the Captain had a reputation for being a calm and collected officer, polite and courteous in even the most volatile situations, he was an entirely different person in personal combat and during naval operations. Barking commands, constantly fixing his hair from storming across the bridge, and generally being in direct control.
A new rising boon of aggravation sparked within him, stomach churning with raw rage and anger. However, a soft feeling voided those feelings in an instant. Tmoxin's gentle touch turned him away from the processions before she brought her lips to his ear, whispering things sounded like heaven compared to this monstrous hell on earth.
Hans gave her a wry grin, happily accepting her touch with a few words: "I hope you don't like that dress, because it's coming off. Captain's orders." And with that, the pair would hurriedly depart from the palace with their honor guard in tow before making their way back to the Scourge.
The nature of the conversation did not interest her. Yet it was becoming quite clear that this man did not belong here with them. How he got in was a question for another time... More importantly, it was how he was able to spot her in a crowd. It was true there were many rumors of the Witch of Bastion but her face was not known. It was completely possible that this force-sensitive could sense her unusual signature; it was like unorthodox calligraphy. Anja's eyes wandered around her before she brought them back to the Umbaran man before her.
"You talk a lot and don't leave out the details, do you?" Unusual for the woman, she was being rather impartial with him. If she wanted she could have him take into custody and brought to the stands with the other prisoners being executed this evening. Of course, she'd make sure he knew that.
Her attention drifted back to Delyna for a moment; especially after she spoke. "The Gardens, come." She wasn't being welcoming in those words... If it took a hint, she was telling him to follow her or suffer the consequences. Delyna too would be expected to follow but wasn't being threatened to do so.
By the Pantoran she knew immediately that [member="Boo Chiyo"] had begun. The young were always so ahead of themselves...
The slug in question was actually a cephalopod. Bal'gul felt like correcting the foolish quadrupeds on their idiotic assumption, but promptly had to focus on the sudden usage of Force from [member="Jared Ovmar"].
Telekinetic energy wrapped around him and.... began to slowly push him backward. Bal'gul was very fat after all, and on top of a floating repulsorsled to boot. He was no Hutt, but Dark Side masters who made mentalism their speciality tended to be deficient in other areas.
Areas like telekinesis.
So, Bal'gul continued to slide slowly backward and out of the room, rather than rocketing out like a hurled rag doll.
Fareon followed [member="Anja Aj'Rou"] without question, hoping that she wasn't leading him into danger. She had remained impartial so far, so it was unclear to Fareon what her intentions were. As he walked, he folded his hands behind his back.
"I was unsure what exactly you wanted me to tell you, so I told you the most information I could."
He hoped he wasn't making a poor impression; he didn't want to be killed at a party like this. He told himself that he should probably avoid drinks, lest they be poisoned.
Titan had been the negotiator for the peaceful acquisition of the Kuat system. She had a fair amount of respect for the man simply for that accomplishment alone, though certainly it had not been all his own doing. Nor did she believe he'd not made the agreement without ulterior motives. Titan lived up to its name so far as it's business guile and power went, but the moment he'd tried to sink his claws into KDY the man had found himself swiftly rebuffed.
"...and what sort of business have you done with Titan? I haven't had much interaction with the corporate magnus, to be perfectly honest."
"They commissioned a large droid army from Hegemonic Automaton, a deal which I brokered." Gerion explained, swelling a bit with pride. "Their Maladi-class frigates also utilize an advanced system designed and produced by Hegemonic Automaton."
Those A3 Legionnaire droids were among the most versatile and adept battle droids on the market. And the Maladi one of the finer forms of spacefaring vessel in the galaxy, both in terms of style and armament. Gerion was more than pleased that his company had a hand in their production. It looked good on their corporate record. It also hopefully endeared him to one of the larger corporate juggernauts milling about the galaxy.
Just as the austere-faced Umbaran began to preen beneath the interest of the flame-haired mental inamorata, a repulser sled hummed in. A floating pond, to be more accurate. Sitting in the middle of the hovering puddle of water was a large amorphous green blob, with tentacles that wriggled sluggishly. An Iyra, not uncommon throughout the galaxy, though perhaps a more unusual sight for humans.
The floating pond moved over until it sat just behind the Umbaran. An octet of eyes, each set upon a stalk, fastened on [member="Gerion Ardik"], all leaning forward intently. It was as if a field of reeds had suddenly all moved in the same direction of their own volition.
The Iyra gave a watery sigh, then burbled in a universally recognizable derisive tone, "Quadrupeds."
Lorelei tipped a brow, smirk of impression lingering into something of amusement at his own profound display of pride.
[member="Gerion Ardik"]'s inamorata leaned towards him, green eyes hovering over the rim of her wine glass, watching him in the way a nexu watched its cubs play at the hunt. She took another sip, "What a shark you are, Gerion. Prime on the opportunity, hmm..." that svelte chuckle in her throat dissipated into a thoughtful murmur, acidic gaze drifting past the platinum locks to the trundling bulk of a very strange ball-goer arriving at his back.
Now that ... was not something one saw everyday. Lorelei watched, intense stare fixated on [member="Bal'gul"] unblinkingly, roving from eyestalk to eyestalk.
Gerion was far, far too pleased with the way she was looking at him to offer any corrections. Like the fact that it had been Titan to approach him for both projects and Hegemonic Automaton only performed as instructed. Why would he let a little thing like the truth interfere with this newfound shark status? Finally it seemed he could enjoy this ball, despite the fact that people were probably being decapitated in the gardens as they spoke and other assorted citizens were being sold as chattel in a library, of all places. He evicted these thoughts immediately. "Ah, well, as the saying goes. If opportunity doesn't knock, build a door..."
He trailed off. Something behind him caught her eye, and then she was asking about more of Gerion's friends. Who was next on the list of grand meddlers? Sasha? Zambrano? Carach? Jemmila? Valik? HK-36? Isley Verd with a renewed (and warranted) desire for vengeance? The ghost of Mikhail Shorn? He decided the worst case scenario would be Carach, probably clad in some battle-thong ready to use mentalism to seduce Kuat's Queen off of his arm. It wasn't until he turned around and sighted the eight-eyed slug on a repulsor chair that he realized, yes, there were worse things in life than Darth Carach, Voice of the Dark Lord, wearing a banana hammock.
But not by a large margin.
"No, I don't believe I've made his acquaintance."
Given his string of luck so far, Gerion now waited to be corrected about the tentacle'd mass's gender identity.
The Iyra began speaking, with apparently no intention of stopping in this lifetime. The voice contained an underwater quality. Upon closer inspection one might realize that there was no mouth visible, just a mass of tentacles wriggling with sluggish delight.
"Doctor Bal'gulusquintilusthiffilus III, but you may call me Bal'gul. Professor of Mythology at Coruscant University. Centuries ago."
One tentacle slithered out and coiled around the stem of a glass of wine from a passing waiter.
"And judging from the tincture of your eyes and hair and the near-albino pigmentation your skin, you must be an Umbaran. Fairly well-to-do, but in a hurry to curry favor with your other pink friends."
Blub. Blub. Blub.
"And, hmm, I sense a taint in the Force. Perhaps you or the other near-human, I haven't really developed such senses much myself. Did you know you bear a striking resemblance to the late Tyrin Ardik, former Emperor of the now dissolved Sith Empire? I have been researching the Sith since my return to the galaxy. A very interesting, self-destructive religion. I could regale you with the tragedy of Emperor Ardik and the Battle of Metalorn, a very interesting tactical decision upon the part of-"
[media]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ggsYozUhFvo&index=3&list=PLTe925Q5mvnqLu1akd6zLlrEXZ3cprX-d[/media]
See bottom of post for notes on why certain people were mentioned.
Hey, it’s, uh, it’s your pal Nyx here again
I thought it was about time I lay down some beats
For all of my buddies out in the Republic
So this is dedicated to y’all, lemme hear you stomp those feet!
"For those... interested... executions will begin in the gardens." How many times was the specter going to be interrupted in one evening? At this rate she felt like perhaps she should simply give up. That, however, was not in her nature. There were tasks that needed to be accomplished. Plenty of them. Even if they weren't necessarily urgent... they were important. Ghosts may have all the time in the world- mortals, on the other hand, do not. As was becoming more evident by the second. "From there we have a special surprise, among the dying Jedi." These sorts of events rarely had good surprises. Maybe they'd be given a trial by combat. Or perhaps they'd be forced into a cage with a starving Gundark or Nexu. Vine cats were also an option. Did that pique her interest? No, not really. Her attention was now turned to the familiar figure across the room. The one who sent the messenger. Whatever she had planned for Vrag could (and would) wait. Nothing beats speaking to an old friend. A very old friend.
"Miss Nyx?" Said the young lass, worry still evident in her voice. Had the Zorren zoned out?... Ah, yes, it seemed so. Many people were already filtering out into the gardens. Well, having entertainment always makes conversations better, right? "Would you be okay with accompanying my Master for a short while? I, well, I think you're who she believes you are." You think right, little one, Nyx thought, letting herself smile once more. 'Twas a genuine one. With that she gave a short nod and started drifting over to the woman. Behind her the girl followed, though she did have a hard time keeping up. Despite their moderately slow pace the duo crossed the room in less than a minute. Every second that passed marked a growing joy for the former Imperial. It had been years since she last saw the darling in front of her. "Lady Aldora, I present to you Miss Drapeam Sahara Nyx. And allow-" The messenger was quickly, without a moment's hesitation, cut off.
"Ellisia, leave us. Get something to drink, you've earned it. Nyx and I have... dire issues to discuss," Aldora said, gesturing for her servant to depart. Wordlessly the officer did as commanded. For a few moments after that things were quiet- besides for the understandable chatter coming from the other guests. Then the two warriors broke into grins, unable to contain their mutual excitement. "Oh, Drapeam, darling! How long has it been? Do tell me how you've been! Though... oh, dearie, what happened to you? I trust you understand that I'm surprised that you're... no longer physically with us. You were always so strong. But look at me! A Sith Lady rambling on and on!" Though her stature in the Empire was obvious she still felt the need to announce her title. Typical of Aldora. The name, however, was new to Nyx. This definitely wasn't the same acolyte she remembered running around with. Still there were traces, just little bits, of the girl she had kissed on her fifteenth birthday.
"Olene, you're just as much of a chatterbox as I remember. Can I call you that? Or should I call you Lady Aldora, like the riff raff do? We have known each other since we were kids... Though I have to say you've certainly grown up... Gods, how old were you when I last saw you? Twenty-three? I do believe it was something like that... Two decades then. Two decades, almost three, since we last spoke. We never were good at keeping in touch, were we?" Nyx replied with a little chuckle. She had missed her childhood friend. Even if they had been competitors most of their life. After all, the two's aggressive rivalry had eventually turned into an equally passionate romance. If they hadn't gone to separate academies they would probably still be together. "Things are easier now that I'm a ghost. Traveling is instant as long as I know where I'm going. Maybe this time around we'll stay in contact. Wouldn't that be grand? I doubt I can tell you everything about what you missed in just one meeting."
"True, true. Now, how about you tell me how you died while we walk to the gardens? Then, after the executions, we can go find that killer of yours and end their pitiful existence!" Aldora said, cracking a grin.
"All sounds delightful besides for that last bit... It was a Sith who killed me, darling. One who I fear has a higher rank then even you do. But come along now, we don't want to miss any of the fun." After motioning for the stunned lass to follow her, Nyx mused about where along her story to start... Eventually she realized things would only make since if she went all the way back- back to when she had last seen her 'beloved'. "It's rather complicated. This whole... mess I've found myself in. 'Twas much simpler back in the day. I was just a sniper. My job was to kill people. I trust you knew that much? Not sure if you were keeping a tab on me. You were just an acolyte back then. Might not have even had access to all of my records. Now that I think about it... kinda hope you didn't. Got my ass- excuse me, arse- kicked more times than I'd like to admit."
"You never were one to speak of your own failings. Something tells me that this will be the most interesting conversation I'll ever partake in. The Drapeam Nyx talking about her death? Oh my, I bet your old squadmates wish they were here for this!" Quietly the two chuckled, moving along slowly, following a few other party-goers. Everyone else seemed so... boring, in contrast to them. But maybe it was just old feelings surfacing again. After all, spirits aren't the only kind of ghosts. Apart these two seldom thought of the other... together again they, well... Beware the old ones. Keep your guard up. "Now... where were we? Ah! Of course. I will admit that I looked over your files a few times. After they drafted you into whatever it was most of your stuff became classified. Even after the Empire collapsed I... I couldn't find anything on you. For the most part I just... assumed you had died. If a Sith is the one who slayed you, then... I assume it was recent. Otherwise I would have heard something."
"Aye. Just a few months ago. Probably. Ghosts are notoriously bad at keeping track of time. Though, darling, we must go all the way back for you to really understand. As you have undoubtedly realized now... I am gifted by the force. I have been all my life. How, you may wonder, was I never discovered? Never taken to the training grounds to be made an acolyte? 'Twas my father. I am sure of it, though I have no absolute proof, merely an educated estimation. A... gut feeling, you could say. Should I be correct then I have even more reason to both love and hate my parents. My father was one of the first to know I could use the force. Then, I assume, he went to the alchemist who once worked for him and demanded he find a way to hide my powers. Why? Because he knew the death rate among acolytes. He feared that I, his only childe, would be killed." "Why would you hate him for that?... He wanted you to live! Perhaps he stunted your growth in power, but at least he assured that you could live to outgrow your weakness. You do remember how frail you were back-" Aldora was given no time to finish her sentence. Nyx, with a harsh scowl, stopped suddenly and turned to her companion. "You know why my father did what he did? Honor. Power. I was the only kid that frakker ever had. The only one he ever would have without cloning. You know how successful his military career was? That's right, it was chite. He frakkin failed there." The pair watched each other, both with narrowed eyes and angled brows, waiting to see who would break the silence. It was the Zorren who did, the Corellian accent falling back into her voice, replacing the stiff old-Imperial one. "Ya know what it's like to be a Nyxai? No, you don't. You really don't. Frakkers know we're important. But they also know we're dying out. My dad wanted to make it clear we're still the karking champions. When his stint as a general went south he knew his only other option was to produce strong offspring. Not just strong offspring. The strongest. He hid my abilities so he could groom me to be what he wanted."
"Now you understand my mixed feelings on the matter. He had enough faith that I'd be able to get better, but not enough that he thought I was already good enough. So he spent his time buying me some. Understandably I'm unsure of what exactly his plan was. I do, however, have an idea of how he hid me. Remember that necklace I used to wear? Well, I think he had the alchemist enchant that so it would hide my presence. Now let's keep going. Watching some frakkers die might put me in a better mood." With that said they continued moving. Lady Aldora still seemed rather tense. What had her old friend become? Only a minute passed before the conversation resumed. "A lot you already know happened after that. I joined the military, worked my way up to Corporal, and ended up hated by most people who worked with me." "Then I got drafted into the Blackblades. Big deal, I guess. Though at the time Vornskr wasn't quite as famous as he is now. Or was he? I get my order of things mixed up sometimes. At some point he was Emperor and at some point I got thrashed by a nervous wreck of a Jedi. Ended up in the hospital for six months. By the time I got out things were going south. I... I still wasn't strong enough to fight again. They sent me to a duo of Sith Lords for... experimentation, I guess. Their hope was that they'd find a way to make 'super soldiers' cheap. There were dozens of others there. Then, well... Things got exciting. Really quickly. I don't even know how to explain it, really," Nyx said, taking a deep breath. Memories started to trickle back into mind. It was almost enough to overwhelm the apparition. "We were approached by another Master. He pulled the amulet from my neck, practically ripped it off, and told me that I would do. Everyone called him 'Lord', but he said his name was Darth Elaoi."
"Elaoi... that sounds... familiar. I think I read his name on a list of those killed during the invasion of Maanan... What did he want with you?" Aldora was becoming more and more concerned by the moment. Still she walked alongside the one she once knew, unsure if this person was even related to Nyx anymore. She's changed so much... Oh, Nyx, where is the one I loved? Did she die when you did? Or did she fall with the people of the Empire?... was she ever really there at all? She thought, trying to hide her frown. "The usual. He offered me a job. It was a simple one, really. Apparently he was working with the intelligence workers. Something about preparing for the Sith to rise again... Elaoi kept telling me that he forsaw a false end to us. That we would flee, only to rise up twice as strong, as we have done dozens of times. Then he told me I had a part to play- that I was duty-bound to assist him. So I asked him what his plan was. I was to be worked on. My injuries were to be healed completely, my scars erased, tattoos removed, and my hair dyed a new color. Afterwards he was going to have me poisoned. As the Empire 'collapsed' around me I would be prepped for a 'retrieval'. When the aide workers of the Republic, or the Protectorate, moved in to find victims in the rubble they would find me. A sick, a weakly little thing, except... gifted. Gifted in the force. He assumed I'd be taken to Coruscant for care. That slowly, and surely, I would be able to worm into the Jedi order. It was a decent enough idea."
"Issues came when the Empire caved in earlier than intended. The duo who had originally cared for me went crazy. Damn frakkers put me under. Filled me up with drugs and just... took me to whatever hellhole they called 'home'. Their 'secret' base. Elaoi was unable to contact us, though I've heard he tried. Eventually they poisoned me as planned. They just..." Nyx froze up. Her white eyes almost seemed to shed a tear for a moment. Instead of crying she merely shuddered and let out a sigh. Now was not the time to be weak. "The dosage they gave me was three times as strong as Elaoi had recommended. My body wasn't just weakened... it was almost completely shut down. But that wasn't the end. They started the 'healing' process themselves, keeping me comatose the whole time. I... I honestly don't know how I got out. My memories of the escape are to fuzzy. Part of me thinks they left or just let me go. After that things became a weird sort of normal. I went and tried to complete the plan." "A few months passed. With a bit of bribing, a bit of 'charm', and some good-old-fashioned bantha-chite I managed to get enlisted within the Protectorate. Went well enough until I got knocked out in the middle of a fight because of the venom in my veins. Quick check up with a doc then bam! I was outta there. Sent me right to Ossus for healing. Jedi... the whole lot of 'em just kinda went with it. Not to many even heard about my backstory- as in the one I made up- until a fair bit in. That was the start of my recon days. Things got worse again when the whole Netherworld thing happened... yeah, wasn't fun. But I got them to trust me more when I helped them recover from that. Everything was so great for awhile. They treated me, I learned about the force, I had partial access to their records, and then I took a stupid vacation to Cularin. That's what karked me over. If I had just... gone to some other world... looked for Elaoi somewhere else..." "Oh, Drapeam! C'mon, you can tell me the rest later. Let's just... rest for now. We'll go to the executions. You can hold my hand like you did during dinner parties back in the day and everything. It'll be good. Maybe you can tell me about what else happened later. For now... I think you've said enough." With that said they both went silent. Their hands, while unable to truly touch, managed to 'connect'. Together they walked to the gardens. They shared no more words, but no more were needed. Being with the other was enough. Whatever came to them in time... they would conquer. No matter what it was.
Don’t you get it now? I was never a hero, you fool…
And I’ll never be.
{ooc: Don't you love a good info-dump? Especially when it's a lovely conversation between a once couple? I know I do. Now that this little... piece is done, there is a lot of plots incoming. Hopefully you'll want to tag along for the ride! Now, let me just... tag a few people who might want to read this. A few people were waiting on this lovely darling. Anyone with PLOT after their name is someone who has been involved with this character and might be interested in reading this.} [member="Matsu Xiangu"] | [member=Vrag] | [member="Corvus Raaf"] {PLOT} | [member="Darth Vornskr"] {PLOT} | [member="Enigma"] {PLOT} | [member="Anja Aj'Rou"]
