The Garden Tomb

[Syd Celsius]

Arrived in: Scorched Earth (http://starwarsrp.net/topic/136853-scorched-earth/)

Wearing: 451 Suit (http://starwarsrp.net/topic/136742-451-suit/)

Armed with: Heliosphere (Curved Hilt Lightsaber)

Wind and Fire Wheels (Twin Lightsabers)

Shooting Star (http://starwarsrp.net/topic/138020-shooting-star/)


Planet: http://starwarsrp.net/topic/135847-tyraweilen-the-garden-world/




Syd Celsius, the Flame Geist, last living relic of a defunct sect of Jedi meditated out near the central flame in her circular ship quarters, clad in her red and gold chrome suit. She had finished dating some old relics here for the local Jedi Archeologist and had also done more examinations for her civilian archeology occupation. Her fiery orange red hair glimmered next to the flame as she centered herself. Despite her finding some minor satisfaction in civilian life, she still felt comfortable in her primary purpose...hunting down and killing dark adepts. Being in the silvers had not left her short of work...the somewhat loose operating restrictions however left her with still more free time than she was used to. Meditation was not bringing the type of centering it used to.

She knew that she needed to stop thinking the way she had in the old days...that it was time to really get used to this whole...'future' thing...but it was so difficult to do...She might have a civil identity now, but that wasn't the same as having a life. She did not have friends, and for all the trinkets she had started to collect, she was still not know what it was like to enjoy herself.

So the hunt went on.

The hunt took her to a garden world, in fact...Tyra'Weilan. An idyllic, pastoral world, that, like everything that fled the Gulag Plague, wasn't without its one wart or so.

They'd called her of course, once they had found the Tomb. There were no names written, but what markings there were had indictated Sith.

The local chapter of Jedi were not equipped or experienced enough to handle locking down the tomb, and when it had been uncovered, they dared not let even their own masters go near it. But there was little for the Dark to feed on where someone such as she was concerned.

Syd rose from the relaxing meditation, as she did not sleep and headed to the cockpit to steer the Star Courier she flew in, a Plague era vessel known as The Scorched Earth, equipped to handle most starfighters and even a few slightly bigger ships with hard hitting, long range weapons. She was getting sent out more and more for the magic related stuff. Syd felt the uncomfortable sting of same old same old as she descended into the atmosphere, landing close to the old temple in the midst of a lush, purple forest, her weapons equipped. She thoughtvof visiting a theater, but never understood the point in her spare time, and in truth, she hated enclosed spaces, and tombs, well, they could cause her a great level of discomfort. She was not looking forward to the next twelve hours of clearing out and burning whatever horror the Sith left within.

And yet...when she could not fulfill her purpose...she felt empty...worse than empty...

This was a conundrum, Syd thought as she walked to the temple, intent on getting more intel from the local Jedi before flying to the tomb location itself...

Syd braced herself for the brutal slog ahead...

[member="Kahlil Zambrano"]

 

[Kahlil Noble]

"My my. The Jedi have wandered too close to the sun, haven't they?"

​

​

Outside the tomb a passageway opened near the few of the Jedi who had been watching over the tomb. While they couldn't seal it themselves and had requested outside help, they also couldn't just let it go unwatched. Who knows what sort of darkness could have been unleashed upon it's founding. Unfortunately for them, Kahlil felt it. From the dark path he stepped, coming into existence in the Light at his full nine foot height. His expressionless mask glanced between the pair of Jedi who stood stunned at the sudden oppressive Dark Side energy that came before them.

"Your Abyss awaits. S̘̱̰̖͍̦u̳̜͖t̵̻͕͎͖͖̬ta̶͙̲͖̩ ̠̞̗͇̻̤͎C̶͎͖̺̜͇̹h̞ͅw̙̣̗͚i͕͕͉t̨u̮͚̮̲͞s̙̫̠̖̼͇̝͝k҉̝̣̠̲a̡̝̫̠͚̥̺̹k̛̘̠."

He raised a metallic glove, pointing the spiked fingers towards the pair. Before they had a chance to react a small dark sphere formed between them, and to their horror expanded rapidly. Unimaginable heat consumed them as the sphere of hate detonated. What little of their bodies weren't immediately reduced to ash landed on the ground charred. The Knight stepped right through, crushing a forearm underfoot as he went. The Tomb was his to explore.

[member="Syd Celsius"]

 

[Syd Celsius]

Syd approached the Jedi Temple, floating through the air with her arms folded and met the knight who had called her, an old man with dark skin and pale, patchy thin hair on his scalp, wearing bark brown and white robes. He was sitting on a rock, meditating in the sunlight of the lush world.

"You sent for me?" Syd asked, landing on the grass.

The old man opened his eyes, blinking brown irises.

"Ah, its you. The construct from The Plague."

"Celsius. Syd Celsius..." Syd introduced herself.

(Clip of Bond Theme plays.)

"You arrived not a moment too soon I'm afraid. The ones we sent to watch over the tomb...I sensed their deaths not long ago...a follower of darkness has sensed the evil in the tomb as we have, and killed the Jedi guards assigned to it." The Knight explained in an ancient voice.

Syd frowned, the chrome suit she wore reflecting the gleam of light and the color of the grass while being completely skin tight. "Do you know anything of the tomb itself?" Syd inquired.

"It never drew much interest around here, I'm afraid. Not until twelve days ago, when an echo of power came from it. Every Jedi on this world sensed it when it did. Tyra'Weilan is an idyllic world, a paradise. The only way I can see a tomb getting built here was if it came from The Gulag Plague." The knight explained to the Ghost of Flames. "Since it went active its only gotten stronger. We dare not bring any of our knights close to it, as not many of us have experience with tombs."

Syd sighed, hands going to her hips. "Well, you came to the right person..." she muttered, not looking forward to this. "This Dark One...how'd he get through?"

"We do not know. One moment he was not there...next moment he was..." the knight answered grimly. "Whatever is in there, we must not allow whoever has broken in to obtain it. Unfortunately we have no idea what awaits you within. Go expecting anything. May the Force be with you, Master Celsius."

Syd nodded, and floated past him and into the temple, where she obtained a small bottle of black paint and a brush from one of the more helpful knights and soon began to chant a magical spell over the paint, before taking both with her and heading to where the tomb was located and painting herself in strange alkahest symbols combined with the very magical formula that enabled her to exist at all...the Kolda-Bratha Calculus. Her suit already possessed some minor degree of magical resistance, but the enchanted paint and its scrawl would give her more resistance...for a short time anyway, and even then it was not exactly fool proof. Plus she had claustrophobia. It was managable, ignorable, even, due to her reduced emotional capacity, but she still felt it, and that made it harder to focus her primary attack method--kill it with fire...

Syd, once she had prepared by painting the symbols on her body, floated closer, finding the tomb entrance, a pitch black door with red gemstones denoting local constellations was slightly open.

Syd headed inside, drawing one of her flame patterned, silvery lightsaber hilts. Its blue blade went active, lighting the staircase below as she traveled down by floating, bright orange eyes scanning for danger, already feeling that nervousness from an enclosed space. She had spent three centuries trapped in a chunk of nullification resin, betrayed by her creators for doing her job too well, for killing so many Dark Adepts that many questioned whether she was a bigger problem than the Sith.

She had never understood the decision to imprison her. She had functioned perfectly. PERFECTLY.

What was it her chief creator, The Man in White, said before imprisoning her?

"You know the notes, but not the delivery..." she said under her breath, repeating the final words he had said before pressing the chunk to her psychic skin shell.

The tomb interior was more open than she thought. Theire was a great foyer of Stone trees and stone flowers carved into the walls and ceiling and built into the floor, multiple doors leading to other areas.

Syd fought past her increasing unease to sense for life, for the strongest aspect of danger and where it led, the blue light from her saber giving the stone carvings around her an odd shade as she walked forward, ready to react to any danger that came...prepared to torch it also...

[member="Kahlil Zambrano"]

 

[Kahlil Noble]

"So many dark secrets." Kahlil trailed his metallic gauntlets across the carved stone walls of the tomb, his hazel eyes glancing over the markers. So many stories were marked in this tomb. So many spells could be lurking deeper within. But as he stepped deeper, another presence caught his attention. [member="Syd Celsius"] . It was a new feeling for the young Sith. Not necessarily Jedi.

It was enough to get his attention though.

"Ah, well. I guess I should deal with my guest first."

 

[Syd Celsius]

He was definitely in here, whoever he was, Syd thought, moving forward. Another Sith. Her life had been filled with killing them yet the amount of them she had actually interacted with on any meaningful level could be counted on one hand. He was EXTREMELY close by however, and judging by the aura he exuded wasn't a pushover. Syd sometimes wondered if she would have been as secure in her duty had she talked to more of them...she herself had been created from a smoke demon summoned by a Sith, so she could not have existed without Sith to start with. This bothered her more and more, killing the very reason one exists at all. But Syd had not been made for philosophy but to kill.

Inevitable as she came into a larger chamber, the tightness of the walls closing down on her, ancient magic whispering to her shell even with the black protective wards she had painted onto her body she finallly spotted [member="Kahlil Zambrano"] , who was...tall.

"Did they feed you nothing but green beans from the moment you were born?" Syd remarked, amazed at his height in spite of normally never saying anything to Sith she fought beyond interrogatives.

Or in this case, demands for surrender. Not normally part of her playbook but she had been trying to adhere to SJO directives.

"I can't let you have whatever is in here, you know..." Syd warned him. "I certainly can't let you go after killing my fellow Jedi. I can let you be smart and surrender though. I give one chance, Sith. I am not a being to be trifled with. Throw down your weapons or die." Syd ordered, prepared to roast him. She didn't know his full capabilities but when most things burn at your command you didn't need to be too worried. But this one seemed different. Syd wouldn't take a chance...given his height, blade to blade could be risky, though not impossible. But it was better to step back and set him to bake if he decided not to play it smart. But they rarely played it smart. Her magical programming actually hoped he'd fight her...one less Sith was always a good thing in her eyes, regardless of official rhetoric. She'd seen too much death and destruction from them to think otherwise.

Then again, given her own approach...she wasn't 'that' different...

 

[Kahlil Noble]

The emotionless mask Kahlil wore stared down at [member="Syd Celsius"] as she spoke, hiding what ever thoughts might be passing through the Sith's mind at the moment. His mask receded, showing the dark skinned face of the Knight as he smiled ever so faintly. "I can feel your hesitation. Your doubt. You're no Jedi, are you?" He casually clasped his hands behind his back, standing tall before this new threat.

She wanted to fight, but the Jedi way was to never strike first. Would she be able to follow that?

"No, you're not even humanoid. You're.. Artificial. Crafted by Sith Magics." His smile widened. She had come as a threat, but could he twist that? Could he make her into something other then a tool for the Jedi? "How did you end up with the Jedi of all people?"

 

[Syd Celsius]

"I may have started from Sith magics, but it is certainly not what I am now." Syd answered [member="Kahlil Zambrano"] though she was disturbed at how easily he read her. Not your common fish. No. This one was an investment. Regal bearing. Clearly used to holding his own. Syd nicknamed this type Heatseekers.

His question bothered her for other reasons.

She wasn't truly certain, even after all these months, whether she was truly content, even in her civil identity. She caught herself remembering the amber hell her creators had sent her to suffer in. She had never forgiven them, even with her dulled emotions. Three centuries of nothing were too much for even a Jedi to give a pass on. That was a hell she would not inflict on her worst foe. There was an irony in this sentiment that Syd was currently too thick to catch on to.

"I did not go into this filthy tomb, which doesn't even have air conditioning, for feth's sake, just to play twenty questions. I'm either collecting the blade or using you as a wick. Pick. And...um...that rhyme was unintentional..." Syd admitted.

She prepaired to torch him. It would require much more focus than normal, but it could be done. But she still didn't know his full capabilities. But she knew she couldn't afford to screw around. Not here. Not with this one. He'd trounced the tomb's bouncers like they were nothing, after all.

 

[Kahlil Noble]

"No, it's not what you are now. You chose freedom, but you shackled yourself to the Jedi. Tell me, how would they feel if you mercilessly slaughtered me as you so threaten? You'd be better off returning to the Sith." Kahlil made no move to attack or even defend himself, instead just standing before [member="Syd Celsius"] with his hands down by his side. He wouldn't have to move if she struck first, but he was still ever curious on how much doubt he could instill inside of the experiment before him.

 

[Syd Celsius]

The Flame Geist marched through the field of battle on Atrisia, a spray of flames from her hands bathing a white robed witch trying to hold her off for the others to retreat. The wreckage of their pillboxes and defensive checkpoints lay burning behind her as she was followed by her creators, the green robed, hooded men and women known as The Resistors of Darkness trailed behind, hurling green bolts of electric judgement from their finger tips, the flame blasts of their greatest creation roasting alive whatever their green lightning missed. Her blue lightsabers dashed through skull and ribcage, her makashi weaving around staunch blocks and counter attacks and piercing hearts. Typical to her combat training she never stayed still, never stopped moving, relentlessly moving and cutting and burning, like a forest fire given legs and arms, which she in essence was.

Fireballs joined green lightning, hitting the white robed and hooded witches that stood in the way of her as she raided their temple grounds, she and the resistors accompanied by the Mandalorians of Clan Hades in their sterile white armor, which gleamed even in the smoke of the battle's fiery wrecks. The Geist would use the bodies as fuel sources to whip up ever greater flames into fiery tornados that she ran across the grounds of the Sith Temple inbetween her lightsaber attacks.

Ordinarily, the Geist would not have cared why these Sith were being cut down...that they were Sith was reason enough for her. But these Sith had felt different. They were protecting something. Someone. Her red and gold suit reflected the flames as her lightsabers moved through flesh, her victims seeing their faces in her skintight chrome suit before they burned.

The temple loomed in the distance, a great fat spike covered in glowing red runes, like a parody of the Lothal temple. It had been built close to a desert oasis, the local plants corrupted. She saw a strange symbol. One she had never seen before but had been told that the ones she pursued took as their coat of arms. It was a strange, jagged black crescent. They called themselves The Cult of The Brain Demon. They had been drawing disaffected self proclaimed Sith to this old temple, promising them great wisdom into the Darkness. The temple stood over something ancient and terrible, and they had recently lost some poor Jedi Master to these people, though details were unclear.

Either way, her orders were clear...terminate with gusto.

Whoever these people were, they had no future...

The Flame Geist drew ever closer, even as scores of witches continued to oppose, and continued to fall. To her mild disgust some were so rotten from the darkness that despite many of the witches looking beautiful, upon being killed, many of them burst with rancid muscle tissue and unpleasant yellow fluids, the dark side having been the only thing keeping them alive and looking normal. But something strange was happening. For every witch she felt die, she felt their life essence get drawn to the temple instead of Chaos, as they deserved. But she continued to butcher her way to the front gates, a massive number of Mandalorians behind her, gunning down or hacking apart the acolytes.

The Geist pressed on, and though some occasionally begged for mercy, The Geist did not give it, only roasting or decapitation being her response. She was the weapon. It wasn't her they should be asking for mercy.

The Geist finally reached the great front gates and flew upward, her only thought how to get in so she could keep killing the followers of the Bogan. There was no malice in her desire...

...for it was simply what she was made to do...



Why wasn't he attacking?

Syd did not like this, not attacking. Him attacking would have made this a million times easier...

...but she no longer drew the kind of meaning killing Sith as once she did. She could no longer do it quite so thoughtlessly.

"If you do not wish to fight then you must surrender. And that argument will not work on me...you mercilessly slaughtered the ones guarding this very tomb, you have zero grounds to chide me on butchery. If anything, I could probably give you tips on how to be better at it. But since you wanna stall...who are you?" she wondered, not sure why she wasn't attacking herself. Normally, this would have been the point she would have lost patience and attacked...but for some strange, strange reason, the question posed by [member="Kahlil Zambrano"] as well as his dismissal of her resolve had gotten under her skin. But the only Sith who had any right to be arrogant were the survivors. Syd decided it could not hurt to delay a little longer...might get a better insight into his tricks if anything.

Syd was not sure why she was double checking her own answer...

 

[Kahlil Noble]

"I killed them because they stood in the way of my people. This is a Sith's tomb after all. And who are you to stop a Sith from finding the information of their forefathers." As he spoke the young Sith began tracing a hand again over the nearby wall, his attention now on the runes. With [member="Syd Celsius"] not attacking there seemed to be some time for light reading. "My name is Kahlil Zambrano. What of you? I imagine you or the Jedi gave you a name when you finally broke free."

With a wave of his hand the tall figure pulled over a rock, something he could sit on, before glancing back to the experiment. "You're doubting yourself, aren't you?"

 

[Syd Celsius]

The Geist flew up a window into the dark temple, seeing that the cultists had apparantly been practicing archeology on the side...she saw the presence of trowels, brushes, and other excavation tools. The temple had been built over some ancient nobleman's castle, from what she had heard. Clan Li-Ves, she believed the name was. They had been destroyed millennia ago during some crisis involving some sort of ancient warship. She didn't know the full details. Such records have large gaps in them, especially from so long ago.

The Flame Geist searched the ornate room full of tables on which rested dozens upon dozens of artifacts. Wood statues, pieces of armor, broken swords, rotted books and fragments of scrolls, electrum bullion coins, this place was a makeshift museum. She heard chanting through the stone floor underneath gold-chrome boots and phased through the floor, using flight to slow her descent, feeling the Darkness everywhere as she beheld a great treasure room whose walls were polished red steel and littered with ancient Atrisian coins and jewels, all dumped in heaps on a cold stone floor, the taint of several holocrons on decorated brass pedestals encircling the chamber. The Geist frowned as she spotted an arrangement of human bones, put neatly in a great brass plate, the curving twisting formulas bearing an all too familiar pattern to the Geist, the stink of the Dark Side was intense to the living weapon. She floated towards it, pulling out her comlink, fireproof, of course.

"Come in, Geist." her creator, The Man in White, answered on the other end with a smooth baritone.

"I've found what's left of Moya De Lifte..." the Geist said impassively as she stared at the datapad identifying the remains. "They killed her by exposing the Jedi Master to the Calculus...I've never seen this particular fragment before...something to do with...rebirth, by the looks of it..."

"Then I was right. Geist...these witches...this cult...they may very well be sitting on the very largest fragment of the calculus ever seen...an entire lake-sized fragment..."

"And joined with a dark nexus..." the Geist responded. "We can't let them have it. This fragment is too dangerous to be left remaining..."

"What do we do?" The Geist asked, staring at the skull of the slain Jedi. "These ones aren't small fry. They're ambitious. Not the same way as a true Sith is but they're ambitious...and someone else is here...lot of dead witches everywhere."

"Route them out individually. No infernos. We need to know exactly what they had before we destroy it. Your first order of business should be to get the main doors open then deal with whatever is killing the witches. May the Force be with you"

"Understood, Master. Proceeding with objectives..." The Geist acknowledged before cutting the link. She floated back to the bones, staring at the formula that enabled something like her to exist. It troubled her that the same strange magic which permitted her live could cause a fate worse than death for others. The Kolda-Bratha Calculus was a time affecting formula...who knew where the soul of Moya was now? What agonies was she suffering?

Syd did not hear the lightsaber that pierced her from behind. Only the influx of psychic pain as she pulled away from the blade, cursing herself for not sensing it. Fire leaked out of her torso. She turned, staring at a voluptuous woman with pale skin and long blond hair and sulphur eyes, clad in a white body glove of shimmering white scale armor. She held a lightsaber lance, the blade a glowing purple aura with a black core.

"So its true..." the woman sneered playfully. "You really are composed of flames."

"I offer one chance. Surrender." The Geist demanded, sensing a horrid rot from the witch with the silvery lance, not caring who she was.

"You seek to stop our transcendence. I'm afraid I cannot allow that..."

The Geist's blue blades went active. The blond woman smiled.

"The lake can alter anyone. Make them more, Geist. You would be an excellent candidate, given you are already a product of the Calculus.

The Geist was given pause at this, failing to stop her mouth from dropping in surprise.

"How...how do you know that?!" The Geist hissed, glowing orange eyes widening as she watched the woman chant something. She winced as she watched a great red magical field spring up around them.

"What is this...what have you done?!" The Geist demanded.

"Just making sure we can't be interrupted..." The woman answered as she pointed the lance at the Geist.

The Geist winced as her psychic shell rippled like water.

"The spell I have eracted around us keeps you from escaping...and corrupts you at the same time..." the woman smirked. "Stop it...if you can...'

The Geist launched herself at the witch...



"I'm not doubting myself." Syd lied, even though this man had already stopped her from attacking longer than any Sith had ever succeeded at. "And your forefathers were a bunch of heartless sadists and tyrants, and every empire they ever built collapsed in the end due to the very nature of the Sith way itself..."

Why did he want to know her name? Syd didn't honestly care what his was until he identified himself as [member="Kahlil Zambrano"].

In spite of the absurdity of the living weapon deciding to give an answer she gave it anyway. She didn't want to admit it, not even to herself, but she knew a part of her wanted to actually talk to one...she had never tried it. What did the other Jedi see in this method. Wouldn't the troubles they had gone through have been greatly lessened if they had simply struck first?

Why wasn't she striking first?

"Celsius. Syd Celsius..." she answered.

(Clip of Bond Theme plays.)

"Strange...I wonder why you are not attacking. Is it your hope to subvert me in some manner?" Syd asked, rather blunt as by this point the Geist still lacked the teeth for subtlety in conversation. "It is strange you did not offer the ones you killed before you ran into me the same chance for talk."

Her face went stern. "I won't let you leave alive you know, if you force it."

She'd just broken her own rule...she had offered more than one chance to surrender. But she wasn't used to this, to trying to reason with a Sith.

She had never understood why they had imprisoned her, what her creator had meant by knowing the words but not the music. Syd had always believed her way was more effective. But today, of all days, she had decided to actually see if she was wrong. If there was an actual point to talking to them. She had always thought Luke had just gotten lucky, turning Vader at the last moment from what she had read from the historical records.

That said...if he hadn't spared him, things would have gone even worse for the galaxy...

"Have you ever felt doubts about your path?" Syd asked out of the blue. Did Sith get doubts often? Just one more way in which she was lacking in comparison to other Jedi...most of them were at least well versed enough in the talking method, even if they often failed at it, than she was. There were limits to being a weapon, chief among them is the statements they make are not with words.

By that logic the only statement the Geist had ever really made was death. Thats what Syd had...a mountain of nameless corpses no one cared about anymore as her legacy. She had never thought of it that way before...

 

[Kahlil Noble]

"Every day." Kahlil's answer was as nonchalant as they came. An easy admission that he was doubting his own path. It was the only path he knew after all, so what could he do about it? He remained sitting where he was and pulled out a small black tome that he began writing down the various runes he was studying and flipping through the pages. "But, it is too late for me to change. I am set in this path, in a way I can't turn my back on." Not that it mattered.

He waved a hand, calling forth another rock and motioned [member="Syd Celsius"] to sit. "Jedi are my enemy. You, Syd, are not. I am studying these runes, copying them as needed, and soon I will go get the artifact within. I'm sure you'll have to stop me, but until then we can simply talk. You must have questions, and I'm sure I can answer some of them."

 

[Syd Celsius]

The Woman in white smirked at the Geist's body rippling like water from the effects of the Dark Magic as her blue blades crashed against the Woman's black and purple one driving her back, even as she felt the dark taint trying to corrupt her. The blond Woman was a Soresu fighter, fending off her Makashi strikes with a patience and cunning that began to build a real concern in The Geist as she felt the dark magic in the energy bubble trapped in increase her negative emotions. It was a good tactic. She'd put some thought into this. She could win.

The Geist could not use her flames. She had already tried and failed. She felt her psychic shell warping, gaining dark magic. She focused on her programming, trying to remain free of the dark but it was painful, and it cost her time and speed as her enemy found a way past her defense and scored a hit on her waistline. The Geist cried out in pain, backing off and guarding by making a X, the ripples growing larger and more frequent on her shell. The blond woman laughed as the Geists's shape distorted and sagged on one side, her psychic shell leaking fire as she struggled to hold off the dark.

"We grew concerned of course, after you slaughtered the maidens of the Fountain, and after you slew Darth Ephor I knew you were a product of powerful magics. To be honest, I'm rather surprised as to how little resistance to this that you have, given your nature..." the Blond gloated as The Geist fell to her knees, having never had to struggle to avoid the darkness...she was programmed to avoid it, to avoid feeling any emotion powerfully enough to fall. She had never felt what negative emotions she did possess so strongly before, genuine hate for the first time towards another. For the Geist, up to this point it had never been personal, never been about anything else than the Job.

But now...the Geist genuinely wanted to roast her alive, not just because she knew it would end her troubles, but because she knew that the blond would die in agony if she did.

The Geist barely fended off another attack and she knew she had to find some way out. She saw they were surrounded by torches, and as she blocked a savagely powerful strike with both hands on the lance that sent her flying. The Geist knew she had to escape now. While she could. With fading strength she belched fire on the floor and spoke the magical words as the blond tossed her lance like a spear...

"Ashla, transport me through my element..." The Geist struggled to get out diving into the pool of fire she had made, vanishing and reappearing through one of the torches surrounding them...outside the field. The blond swore a little.

"Oh, drat...how sneaky of you..." the blond sneered. "I guess we do this the hard way..."

The Geist flew to the ceiling as fast as she could to avoid the most powerful lightning she had ever seen erupt from the woman's throat as a series of red bolts. She wasn't fast enough. The red lightning hit her full on, and even though she was naturally resistant to lightning, the blast was still powerful enough to completely destroy her psychic shell, rendering her little more than a living twister of flame that barely evaded death as it flowed into an air duct, its chrome suit and lightsabers tumbling to the ground. The Blond smirked and calmly followed the living presence, knowing it could only go deeper into the temple through that route...



Syd, to be certain, did not trust [member="Kahlil Zambrano"] at all, but she had also not expected him to confess to his doubts. Or it could just be a game. Syd could not tell. She had never been good at reading the emotions of others. One did not make a good weapon if the fact another could be a complex sentient registered often.

"I have often wondered if I do what I do because it is how I was made or because it is what I believe..." Syd confessed, cautiously taking the offered seat, ready to roast him if he tried anything, but she was already in full violation of her programming.

"Why are the Jedi your enemy?" Syd asked. "Have you ever had anything personally invested, personally fulfilling about crushing the light? Because I...I..."

Syd still lacked most means to properly express her feelings but what came out next was unmistakable.

"I have never personally had anything invested in killing the Sith..." she admitted. "My first moments of existence was killing the Sith who helped make me...but I did my job. I killed. And then one day they decided they didn't need me anymore. So they...locked me away. I escape and what do I do? I go right back to working for them. Something like me doesn't adapt well to having a personal life...I can wear the clothes of a civilian, but I don't know and don't understand them. Their lives. I'm...programmed to want to kill ever Dark Adept or Sith I come across. Even you. Even now. I have no control over that...and only now do I see the...discomfort of such a reality..."

Syd looked at her chrome covered hands.

"All I have ever known is killing. And I can't even feel the kind of distress I know I should feel, because I wasn't made to feel emotion strongly, specifically. I've buried these hands in the ash of so many others...pathetic, isn't it? Laying all my issues on a man who just dusted some of my peers because I have literally no one else. They were right, my teachers...this life fosters all kinds of fethed up neurosis in people..."

She looked at him, keeping track of the time left on the magical wards covering her. "When was the first time you experienced doubt. And why do you feel you can't change? Your reactions are fully autonomous...my reactions are not. If anything, I'm the one who should believe that about myself...and yet, here I sit, commenting on it. Do you have just too much invested in the life of a Sith to quit? Never mind the Dark Side...what do you get out of it on a practical, daily basis?" Syd asked, needing to understand. "I have made half hearted attempts at civilian life but it isn't sticking. I see a Dark Adept--they're everywhere--and I have to restrain myself not to rip off the clothes I'm wearing and roast them...wait...that came out wrong..." Syd paused, realizing how she had phrased that last bit. Great, now she looked both vulnerable AND stupid to the nine foot Sith...

 

[Kahlil Noble]

"I was told they were my enemy. Much like you were programmed to kill me and my kind." Kahlil shrugged out his response. He had no shame of how he viewed things, only regret that he hadn't decided to question his beliefs until only recently. Still, his gaze turned from the walls as he stopped studying the runes to turn his fullest attention to [member="Syd Celsius"] . An experimental life that grew a consciousness? That wants more then that she is to define her?

"For once in your life you see more then what your programming tells you. Should you survive our inevitable fight, I suggest you take this as a lesson and fully embrace your desire to be something else. You're far more human then any of the Sith who made you." The 6'8" tall Sith (as his creator decided some time back to change it around) offered Syd a kind, patient smile. He made no move to take advantage of her humility or vulnerability. They were just two people lost in a life they were made and told to do live.

 

[Syd Celsius]

The living flame traveled through the vents, in great pain from its earlier encounter with the lance wielding opponent. That wasn't an ordinary witch. More like an Inquisitor with lots of field experience. The flame knew its situation was precarious as it traveled through the air duct, feeding on whatever oxygen was present to stay alive in the tight space, knowing the woman was following ever deeper. It was out of its armor, meaning whatever minor magical resistance the suit had imparted was gone with it, along with its weapons, meaning it would have to think its way out of this. A direct assault was out of the question. This must be accomplished by other means.

But first it had to get away from that woman...

The Geist in its twisting, flame like etherial form felt more oxygen coming from one direction and sped towards the source in the vent, away from the woman who surely intended a fate worse then death now. It traveled low, lower...it seemed to go deeper still.

It felt itself racing through a narrow pipe, the oxygen having become less and less and it strained out through a grate, exiting into what appeared to be some type of supply closet.

Perfect...

It found the towels, and rested, the smoke inevitable forming as it allowed itself to spread throughout the shelf. Soon it was burning into plastics and dry goods...

After about five minutes, the Geist emerged naked from the burning closet, and into what looked to be an empty mess hall. Her fiery orange hair still releasing wisps of smoke, the Geist felt the evil presence of the woman quickly coming and flew out of the mess hall down a connecting hall that turned right into what appeared to be barracks of stimple, blocky stone construction, with burning torches of purple fire in sconces all along the walls.

The Geist quickly looked for weapons and clothing, found an old white, floor length tunic, and a cultist lightsaber resting on a training rack, which she picked up. It was a silent activation, but when she tested it, it turned out to be only a training blade that could leave only welts. That wasn't going to work. But she didn't have the time or, more important, the tools required to modify it. This tunic wasn't very protective either, but she had to take what she could get. The woman approached, forced to take a more circuitous route to reach the barracks.

The Geist felt other dark presences close by, and vowed to bring them down as well. She felt them gathering outside the barracks and the red blade flashed in an arc in her hand, her giving a Makashi flourish as a multitude of witches burst in waving their own red blades.

The Geist flew forward, her blade coming down in a precise, aimed arc at a witch midsection that was blocked, but the Geist pressed the attack with a viciously fast flurry of slashes and thrusts that broke the guard after a few desperate parries on her opponents part before being disarmed of her blade and then hit in the face with a blast of fire from The Geist's throat, grabbing the witches falling curved hilt and using the training hilt to defend against the other witches.

Seeing no reason to hold back in the barracks, as the witches attacked The Geist, she opened her mouth and a deluge of fire bathed everything in front of her in orange and five hundred degree temperatures...



Syd listened at the response of [member="Kahlil Zambrano"].

"Which is worse...to be made to kill and not being able to help it...or to be able to do anything one wants and still choosing to kill..." Syd mused. "And yet...how tempting it is, suddenly, to want to be the latter. Because at least with the latter they might actually believe in a cause when they kill, as you do. I'm not even sure I see the point anymore...during the aftermath of The Gulag Plague, things were a little more cut and dry...I mean, even by Sith standards you were all out of control. The horror stories I had to clean up..." she confessed.

When he said she was more human than the people who made her she had to fight back an amused smile.

"Funny, considering I wasn't--"

Syd stopped, realizing the dangerous mistake she had nearly made, telling him she had been made with reduced emotions. He seemed able to nearly coax a weakness out of her. Was this why Sith were so dangerous to talk to? Because they could get under your skin?

"Don't get me wrong...I 'do' want to be more than I was...but with the programming...its...its difficult. Its not like some code people wrote that people chant and abandon whenever that code's tenants become inconvenient. It's like breathing. You don't need to be taught to breathe...you just do it...that is what my programming is to me...breathing...except I'm now aware of it after all these years..."

Syd knew their time was drawing to a close. And she found herself regretting it, oddly, even as she was fighting her programming to keep from attacking him. He was the first person she had ever talked to about any of her problems. She found it strangely perverse that she could talk to the people she constantly wanted to kill and thought about killing more than her own peers.

"Is there one thing you've really regretted doing for The Sith? The Darkness? I ask because I have never felt any real regret except for placing too much trust in my own makers...part of me...I dunno..." Syd admitted glumly, gold chrome fingers tapping the rock she sat on. "Y'know, right before they imprisoned me, I almost started to think maybe that the job was starting to have actual meaning to me...and then...my 'own' creator...he puts me in, and right before he does so, he tells me I 'know the words but not the music'...and for the will of The Force I have tried to understand what he meant by that...but I can't...what does music have to do with fulfilling one's purpose? Worse still, I wasn't even rebellious. I never showed any signs of going bad, I obeyed all orders given without fail, I kill who I was ordered to kill and no one else...so how could he go and say I know the words but not the music? What does that phrase even mean in the context of someone or something like me?" She asked, squirming as she thought of the wretched time in that amber void. She would never go back there. She hated tinted windows because they reminded her of the void's 'sheen'...