Dark Renascence

[Lord_S_Gray]

Credit where it is due to Gaetana - she is able to assemble resources quickly and bounce back from even death itself.  of course having no compunction using the force to mind control any beings of use probably helps with her acquiring what she needs.  I suspect for the imprisoned Clawdites the worst is yet to come. 

Nice to see a brief, if artificial version of Vectivus, a very different kind of Sith showing the great range of what 'Sith' has meant over the aeons and ironically all too helpful for Jorya's to benefit. But some things remain constant, the desire for power and eternal life. A nice call out to prior stories too, perhaps fortunate for all involved Gaetana wasn't able to find the methods Lucovis used for his own, mercifully brief 'apotheosis'. 

Curious Zearic sensed something amiss with Or'an, perhaps due to his renewal - his distant ancestor whose genes are so very potent and dangerous, after all did come from a paranoid race that were explicitly designed to detect any threat.

And D'alyanna, looking into the depths of the future, so far as is safe, as she has done before, rarely does it provide full answers for her, but each time she does in Dutch's stories the risk D'Alyanna's taking seems to increase, more broadly one wonders if there is a hidden price or danger to having such promotions, let alone deliberately inducing them, does it 'leave a mark' on ones connection to the Force, not 'damage' it but rather...alter it...perhaps make it harder to come back to the present each time.  There are some hints in her 'prophecy' of what is to come, as Dutch so eloquently wrote that could be applied to all prophecies they bring " the assured conviction of knowledge and the utter despair of ignorance"

And Or'an himself, shows that a Hamask, though nominally the 'Berserkers' of the Vhal'dan are far more than mindless killers, they are patient strategic warriors with utter focus on their goal, and cautious in their approach, thoughtful in their use of resources, he's clearly minimising the effort he needs to expend by shadowing D'Alyanna, letting her do the heavy lifting so when the time comes to unleash the 'Gloaming of the Beast' upon the target of Damnatio he is utterly primed and ready.  One genuinely wonders if he sees D'Alyanna as just a tool to his task rather than a person...but perhaps that is the burden of the Hamask, to accept the need to use (or indeed eliminate) some members of the Vhal'Dan to save the whole of the Vhal'Dan (and surely Gaetana is a prime threat), a bitter consequentialist ethic within the order itself. 

[TheDutchman]

Special thanks to LSG for his awesome renderings of the Ars Ingens!  This chapter is dedicated to him  
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Interlude-The Ars Ingens, part I

Belsavis, 3635BBY
Watching from his hilltop vantage above the battlefield, the thin, tall man scrutinized the fighting below, a sea of red lightsabers beginning to overwhelm the diminishing blue, green, yellow, and purple blades even as he looked on.  Simultaneously, the Imperial blasterfire had inundated the Republican forces, sending what few survivors remained into an all-out rout.  Such news, good as it was, would’ve elicited something in another Sith Lord–a celebration, a victorious shout, even a smile–but none of that was in evidence here.

Not for Darth Obliquus.

Movement from the corner of his eye focused his keen senses towards the battlefield’s eastern flank, his Imperial army suddenly engaged in several brutal volleys courtesy of some Jedi Marauders.  He cocked an eyebrow, concern never once touching his mind.  Interesting, it looked as if the Jedi had used their Republican army units as bait.  That he could appreciate.

Admittedly he was surprised that the Jedi had utilized such tactics; in his experience, they tended to be more…sentimental than that.  It was indicative of the utter savagery of the fighting that the two sides were engaged in that day.

But then, they were on Belsavis.  Officially it was a Republic Historical Planet, site of the ancient Rakata; the truth, of course, was much more interesting.

The flow of fighting shifted as the Jedi fought furiously; now it was the Sith that were hard pressed.  He began to wonder if his forces would break, the proverbial Jedi hammer crushing through his line.  Absently, he noticed that the falling snow clinging to his maroon armor was mixed with the dark red droplets of blood.  Or perhaps it was the blood that turned his armor darker?  The ground below had certainly turned from a dirty white to a brackish-red... Ah, yes, it appeared that the first line of Sith warriors had broken against the Jedi offensive…

Dispassionately, he waited to see what happened next.

At first it seemed as if the Jedi had turned a rout into victory, the Republic troppers re-energized.  But then reinforcements arrived, two Imperial battalions slamming against the Republic forces on either side, halting the Jedis' progress in an instant.  Obliquus watched as the three Sith/Imperial contingents ground the enveloped Jedi down, the savage violence widespread.  But there were two spots in particular that he made note of…

On one side, surrounded by a growing heap of eviscerated bodies, the largest human that Obliquus had ever seen killed the enemy by twos and threes, his enormous 2 meter-long crimson lightsaber appearing of normal size when compared to the man’s massive arms and body.  Shouting wordlessly, the ruggedly handsome face was contorted in equal parts rage and cruel pleasure…apropos sentiments given the man himself, Obliquus ruminated.



Of course, Darth Surdus was made for the war that he fought, his almost 2.4 meter height was matched by the wide shoulders and broad chest underneath the hulking armor he wore now covered with blood, viscera, and dirt.  Swinging his lightsaber in one hand and projecting Force Pushes with the other, Surdus cut a literal and figurative swath through the Jedi with each powerful move.  No one could stand against the man, certainly not the Jedi and Republican soldiers unlucky enough to face him.

Yet, he was not the worst…

Obliquus directed his gaze across from Surdus’ position towards the other scene of unparalleled violence.  There, haunting stark shadows glowed from between bodies, bodies that swiftly caught fire or were thrown violently through the air as arcs of deadly violet lightning filled the battlefield, the thick plasma bolts arcing from a central location: a tall, slender woman with blonde hair and a cruel bent to her severe face.  Unlike Surdus, her lips were closed, not even so much as a whisper escaped her mouth.

Against the Jedi, Darth Saggita was terrifying to behold.



Dozens of Republic soldiers and Jedi died as they were consumed by the horrible lightning, their deaths agonizing, loud, and terrible.  The dead and dying littered the ground, the smell of burnt flesh and vaporized plasteel polluting the air as a sickly-sweet smell permeated the area.  Those that had not succumbed to the deadly lightning screamed and moaned as back-breaking pain coursed through nerve connections that felt as if they were afire.  It was more than they could stand; those still alive, those still able to move, to think, to act abandoned their allies, abandoned their senses, their only thought was one of sheer primal survival.

Any cohesion that the army had collapsed under the horrors that they suddenly faced, too many having died too terribly.  Many were cut down from behind, some from Surdus’ red blade, more from Saggita’s lightning, but not all…

…And those that had somehow survived the charnel-house that was the battleground ran away from the dual horrors of Darths Surdus and Saggita…and straight to their deaths.



Scything through the battered remains of Jedi and Republic soldiers, a dark orange pike-blade arced around a tiny woman, one whose deadly martial skill was equaled only by her rabid sadism.  In form-fitting organic purple power armor, the small, dark Lord of the Sith left no prisoners, killing even the mortally wounded.  Laughing as she used her cortosis/durasteel haft to bludgeon those too injured to escape, she took her time with each victim, the last thing each person saw was the sinister grin upon her otherwise almost cherubic, olive-skinned face.

Obliquus witnessed all with detached scrutiny, the success of their mutual venture never in doubt, at least not to him.  Ignoring the growing smoke bathing the battlefield, he ascended from his hilltop perch and headed towards his three comrades.  Walking through groups of Imperials and smaller gatherings of Sith Lords, Apprentices, and Acolytes, they one and all either bowed respectfully or gave him a smart salute.

They knew of his reputation, one more than earned throughout the Empire.  No, the galaxy.

Even during the years that the Empire floundered, finally bending knee to the Eternal Empire, Obliquus had never once wavered in his devotion to his Emperor.  He was one of the first Sith Lords to be selected into the Emperor’s newest group: the Ars Ingens.  Fanatically loyal to the Emperor, the Ars Ingens would act as his Will, ensuring that his influence would spread throughout the galaxy.  Such was Obliquus' life.  He’d risen quickly, testament to his deadly achievements, so much that he was rewarded with the singular commendation: the ability to speak directly to the Emperor himself absent his Voice.  It was as close to a glorious feeling as Obliquus had ever felt.

It was a change from the daily monotony, the numbing morass of nothingness as he finally experienced a satisfaction that had been denied him his entire life; he would now feel.  His Emperor had saved him.

But then he was killed, his Emperor…assassinated at the hands of the newly-formed Galactic Alliance’s Commander.  It was then that Obliquus felt the true stirrings of passion, of emotions.  

Of pure hatred.

Hatred was a valuable tool…but absent direction, it was so much a useless waste of energy.  No, he knew what needed to be done; after all, was not his Emperor immortal?  It did not matter to Obliquus whose face–Tenebrae, Vitiate, Valkorion, whomever--the Emperor wore.  The problem that now occupied him was finding him…

…Apropos sentiments… He mused again.

As he approached his compatriot Darths, the Sith and Imperials surrounding them made a conspicuous clearance around the four of them creating a vacant circle approximately six meters around.  One and all, they looked sideways at the four Sith Lords from the corners of their eyes, their fear palpable.  Good; the Ars Ingens should be feared.

“Lord Obliquus.” Darth Surdus nodded respectfully, his broad, handsome face not in the least bit diminished by the blood and dirt upon his face.  “If the opposition we faced here is any indication, I’m thinking that your calculations may have hit their mark.” The man’s wide face and brutish disposition was at complete odds with his articulate, posh voice, his dark eyes gleaming with shrewd intelligence.

Darth Surdus was many things, but a mindless brute he was not.

“My lord, I was hoping that you could now further elaborate upon your plans.” Darth Saggita’s not-quite-grin complimented her already vulpine features, enhancing her beauty.  She took a moment to give several of her Sith Lords a sensual smile that promised things yet to come.  It was just one of the ways in which she kept her underlings from challenging her, playing one against the others.

Obliquus couldn’t help himself from being impressed: subtle yet effective.

“Yes, Lord Obliquus.” Came an almost haughty, surprisingly deep voice from behind him.  “Do tell as to why we’re here, to say nothing of our battalions.”  Obliquus pivoted his head to face the newcomer.

Darth Invidia.

Her dark features were utterly enticing…well, to those who felt emotions.  As the small woman walked towards them, she exaggerated the sway in her hips, a fact that Sith and Imperial alike took notice of, several now with a kind of hunger in their eyes, subservient to her intent.  Fools, yes complete fools to think that Invidia would ever be so…transparent.

Or genial.

The small Sith Lord ambled up to Surdus, looking almost ridiculous compared to the absolutely massive man.  But–as with all of his three Darths–Obliquus knew looks to be deceiving.  Dispensing with the remainder of his contemplations, he gathered the members of the Ars Ingens to him with an inclination of his chin.  Dutifully, the three of them drew close.

“I believe that I’ve finally found a link to our Emperor.” His voice was calm and deliberate as if he weren’t making a declaration most monumental.

They were good: none of the three showed the shock they invariably felt upon their faces.  Within the Force, that was something else entirely…although Obliquus doubted that most Sith would’ve discerned anything amiss.

However, he was not “most” Sith.

“Within the Tomb, my lord?” Surdus deduced, arching an eyebrow, crossing his enormous arms in front of his deep chest.  He was quick, Obliquus had to admit.  The fact that the planet was secretly used by the Republic as a prison planet was not at all common knowledge.

“Of course my dear Surdus.” Saggita purred, laying a hand upon his thick armored vambrace, a look of appreciation now radiating from her.  And looking from the corner of her eye, she could see that several of the surrounding Sith looked conspicuously elsewhere, anywhere but at her.  But they had been.
 Clever, that would keep the slowest of Sith Acolytes away.

Of course, if they thought that Saggita needed Surdus for any kind of “protection” then they deserved the horrible deaths that she would visit upon them…

Wiping her hands together as if to clean them, the small woman scoffed.  “If the prison was our target then why did we engage in this ground action with the Jedi and Pubs?” Invidia seethed, although she mitigated her tone enough so as not to be blatantly disrespectful.

She was no fool; she knew better than anyone the scope of his power.

Patiently, Obliquus waited until he knew that he had their rapt attention.  “For our purposes, we need the prison emptied, or as good as.” He said by way of explanation…which the other three noticed had not precisely answered their questions.  Nor would he.  At least not yet.  “Gather your forces.” His announcement was met with stoic calm and determination.

As he knew they would; he’d personally chosen them for the Ars Ingens would only comprise of the best.  Even as they maneuvered as all Sith did, his Darths would never do anything to compromise the Ars Ingens, their allegiance absolute.

After all, they’d seen the consequences of those that had failed Obliquus.

He donned the simple yet effective cortosis helmet that he insisted all members of the Ars Ingens wear.  Such a simple gesture for such a prodigious declaration… He decided it fitting, especially after so many failures.  But that changed, this day, in this place, now.  Suddenly, he felt a sliver of emotion, noting the rarity in an eidetic memory for future perusal.  ...Apropos sentiments… He considered, reflecting on the past.  But only for a second, especially given his pronouncement, eliciting within him something akin to...could it be...excitement?  Whatever it was, he could tell that his Darths felt it.  So then, let the flame become an inferno...

“Today marks the day of our Emperor’s rebirth.”

[Lord_S_Gray]

It's no surprise that the 'Eternal Emperor' would have various task forces and contingencies in place to ensure his survival, after all he was obsessed with immortality (ref Nahema ritual) and founded multiple Empires, not just the Sith of the 3600BBYs but the Eternal Empire under the face of Valkyrion on Zakuul as essentially just another 'back up' plan. Indeed an order of Sith dedicated to seeking his reborn form out would be least of his contingencies scattered across the galaxy over his millennial reign(s) in different forms.

And these particular Sith seem to mix the brutal unrestrained martial prowess to find any rebirth anywhere it might appear, seemingly the only thing stronger than their drive to find their Emperor is the viciousness with which they dispatch any who stand in their path.

Presumably these Ars Ingen did not quite succeed, or at least not to a scale that caused another 'Empire' like those Vitiate seemed to like to rule to be born, though they obviously don't know that yet, but that doesn't mean they didn't survive or achieve something else entirely or set schemes in motion for perhaps their Emperor's Renascence.... 

The true question is how does all this fit into the wider narrative of the Vhal'Dan and indeed the Triumvirate, let alone Gaetana/Kadmaur/Jorya?

[TheDutchman]

Special thanks to LSG for his contributions to this story!  With minimal editing, most of this is his writing    This chapter is dedicated to him!
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Chapter 3: Myths, Legends, and Lies, part I
“And that is as precise as you can discern?” Admiral Sarna Mercet observed the very wide search area on the tac-map, a mix of blue and green lines.  The blue was a holo projection of date Imperial Naval Star Charts charted by the Imperial Astronaviagtional Authority back dated for best confidence positions 3000 years, the green a simulation of just one of the locations deciphered from the Sith Wayfinder.
 
The small office adjacent to the Gehenna’s Archaeo-labs was completely dark apart from those beams of crisp light, yet Mercet could feel the sneer on her Senior Professor's face.
 
“The Wayfinder was designed to be used with charts of the Sith Empire of the era, they used a completely different fundamental positioning Zero point we can only approximate, and the Wayfinder itself was designed to be unlocked by one possessing an Illuminatrix and detailed knowledge of Pre-Hyperspace War Sith Ciphers.  It is a feat of genius that I was able to garner this much,” Evelyce Deus was typically arrogant, clipped and fast in her words, Mercet allowed it as to date the comparatively younger woman had never erred in her conclusions of anything brought to her, and provided many fascinating insights and suggestions for Mercet’s own collection of antiques.
 
It still represented several dozen systems that would need to be searched, and in a far flung region within the Unknown regions near Chiss Space, very far from the Old Sith Empire that had created the wayfinder…but then where better to hide something.
 
“Understood,” Mercet replied evenly gliding her hand over the light switch to bring the room back into view.  Typically only used for staff meeting Professor Deus seemed to occupy three quarters, a good 15 cm taller than the 162 cm tall Mercet, Deus with crimson hair and sharp alabaster features had a commanding presence, as if worlds ought to revolve around her by right of birth, inevitable when she hailed from a Corporate Sector Plutocracy family whose surname "Deus" meant "God" in many ancient Basic Variants.
 
Why Deus, and indeed her twin brother Captain Evecen Deus of the 31st "Marauder" Special Forces Commando Squadron aboard the Gehenna had ended up in the Imperial Academy, then transferred to the Xeno-Archaeological Branches was something Mercet had never quite figured out.  The only whisper of credence was the Deus family had fallen from the heights of Corsec Plutocratic Society and into the Empire when business fortunes soured, the children with enormous chips on their shoulder forced to seek position by merit rather than money.
 
“Have you translated any more of the surrounding text with certainty?” unobservable with the naked eye, scans had shown etchings along the pyramidal sides contained High Sithar’I script in a curious dialect specific to one of the outer Cantons of the old Empire.
 
“The refrain, repeated on each edge is now confirmed to read 'With the Awakened One to Rise, Master of the Universe, His New Domain to Forge.'  Awakened one is an uncommon, but not unknown euphemism for the Emperor Vitiate, or Valkorion, the rest seem to refer to the name of specific, ‘Phalanxes’ and their attributes…” Deus twisted her hand round swiftly bringing up an image of the way finder projected from a tiny emitted on her silver and white analytical multi-gauntlet.
 
Phalanx of the Unbroken Gaze, Subaltern of the Leviathans, 10,000 Eyes Watch ceaselessly for the Awakening, Blind the Enemies of the Glorious One with your Spears of Illumination, by the Second Turning of the Empty Caverns Broken Side Manifest Renew Renew was the Basic translation beneath the bladed Sith text.
 
“As is obvious, until we obtain more samples of this dialect we are left with imprecise gibberish in sections.”

Mercet's eyes scanned the holodata and the corroborated astronavigational galactic positions represented by the red points scattered around the galaxy.
 
“We certainly cannot send probes to that many systems, that distant,” Mercet added, her pose contemplative index finger poised on her lips.
 
“There may be digital star maps and data from that era in other archives,” Deus suggested, “Many of course are inaccessible due to the war, however the Navigators guild house on Empress Teta remains under Moff Brill.”
 
Once more Deus proved a useful source of information, but Mercet had no desire to deal with the increasingly twisted Brill, more subtle agents would have to suffice.
 
“Prepare briefings on what our agents will need to look for,” Mercet ordered, “Three hours.”

Turning on her heel, the admiral left the department, her thoughts focusing on a few of the translated words: "Phalanx," "Leviathans," "Awakening," "Second Turnings," and "Renewal."  Idly she wondered what Kintik would deduce from the translations, knowing that the Dark Side Executor was surprisingly well-read and even knowledgable of ancient esoteric texts.

Her comms pinged, recalling her from her ruminations.  "Mercet." She said in a clipped, polished tone. 

"General Sed Vondhem, ISB¹.  Excuse me admiral, but you ordered my adjutant to contact you should anything arise."

"Of course, general.  Proceed." Mercet felt the kick of adrenaline as she listened, her legs quickening as she increased her stride.  It seemed that for the second time their efforts had borne fruit.  Nevertheless, she tempered her excitement, knowing that such times were also usually accompanied with unexpected consequences...
 
           <<<<< >>>>>
 
Triad Isk
Primus: Maenowan Olyna Ve'Reen/command, Shifalan female
Secundus: Silver Knight Zearic Vih'Torr/demolitions, human hybrid male
Tertius: Koawan Sio Harwic/slicer, human male
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Everything was a shade of crimson on the nameless world in a system known only as "VR-161" somewhere South-East of Csilla and South-West of Bastion.
 
Crouched behind a bulbous fungal outgrowth the size of a small freighter Zearic surveyed the only object of interest on this otherwise bleak planet: the eroded tip of some ancient vessel jutting from a sand filled basin kilometers wide.
 
The Advanced Sensory suite within his Cataphract Armour magnified the rounded edges of the metal skeleton of the ship, dulled by countless centuries of erosion, the occasional sand-lizard poking out to snag minute insects with pink tongues.  The magenta hued star beamed on the Tidal locked day side, distant enough--if only just--to make the temperature tolerable without using the suits inbuilt thermoregulation module that would cause a power spike.
 
“Still nothing?” Sio asked hunkered in the shade of the fungal reef, the younger human considered but not cautious, a good counter to their Primus Olyn Ve'Reen who had a bold streak, and Zearic as Secundus made a good middle ground between them.

As was fitting for a Triad.
 
“Same lizard I think.”  They had been there nearly 3 days of a five day mission to "Observe and report."  Zearic felt a probe droid might’ve been a better option, but Alcyorr himself wanted "boots on the ground," the Cathar Triarch always believing nothing could substitute for a sentient in the field.
 
The Unknown Regions were an astonishing place, replete with wonders like the Vhal’Dan homeworld of Zonama Sekot, a living world that could travel in hyperspace, advanced mysterious civilizations like the Chiss and Killiks...but also dangerous plagues upon civilization.  The reason, Zearic thought, the Unknown Regions remained unknown was because so few who ventured too deep in never returned, those that did came back with horrifyingly fantastical stories that deterred even those more curious from venturing in.   But more dangerous--if history was any guide--was what could come out of those Labyrinthine star lanes.
 
The Ferroans of Sekot told hushed tales of nightmarish creatures that possessed the soul, raging giants, vile chthonian entities, plagues of mindless hordes and beings devoted to Dark gods.  Much was mythology but the Vhal’Dan took the core of it--that there were real dangers out there--very seriously.

And that was before the Hapan-Vhal'Dan War.
 
Every system and sector around Sekot had carefully placed probes, silent and observational, activating only in response to unusual stimuli...just like the type that had led them here.

Introspective, Zearic allowed himself to reflect upon their meeting at the Den.
 
The briefing room was collegial as Triad Isk had joined the Triarch along with Triads Dorn and Nern for the briefing from Vhal’Dan intelligence and Navy.
 
“Three weeks ago a vessel with mass estimated at almost a trillion kilograms appeared in System VR-122 Klasse Ephemora Sector, it was there for three days them left.  It arrived in System VR-128 the next day, again there for a few days then left,” Deputy Head of intelligence Moloth Bandaar, a tall Myke with a gaunt face and ever moving dark purple eyes beneath greying brown hair activated the tables central holograph showing the course of this large vessel.
 
“It appears to be surveying every system in a region, our passive probes are not equipped to perform scan necessary to discern its size or type, but it is much greater than the mass of an Imperial Super Star Destroyer”
 
Given what they'd seen on the holovid that was a concern.
 
“It is currently at VR-149, our predictive models have determined its three next most likely locations as VR-152, VR 153 and VR-161, where you will be deployed in turn,” he gestured to the Cataphracts, all in their normal robes, the room hardly fitting that many tall and broad beings in let alone with their expansive thick armour on.
 
“This could be something, or it might be nothing; a mining colony-vessel seeking rich finds, an exploratory vessel from the Unknown Regions, possibly even a Chiss Dreadnaught, they occasionally send scouts this far.  Regardless there is a method here, and while we do not wish to intrude on 'neighbours’ privacy, a vessel larger than a super star destroyer searching for something is itself worth investigating.”      
 
Alcyorr had then nodded his assent, content to allow the Intelligence office to direct the next moves, though why the Cataphracts and not a more nimble, and certainly more stealthy, scouting force had, on reflection, made Zearic realize there were details that were not being shared to the Triads.
 
Regardless he trusted in the Triarch that had there been anything of import they would’ve been informed.
 
With a sigh he crouched back behind the fungal reef with Sio as nothing continued to happen on the red coloured sands.
 
“So,” the Koawan asked, “Sabacc or Pazakk?”   
 
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1. ISB: Imperial Security Bureau-an internal security and intelligence agency of the Galactic Empire.

[TheDutchman]

Special thanks to FT for his awesome rendering of Zearic!  This chapter is dedicated to him 
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Chapter 3: Myths, Legends, and Lies, part II
A gnarled brown wooden mansion was an odd jewel to the eight sided tower, built in the image of a Navigators compass in the heart of Cinnagar.  The capital of Empress Teta, or Koros as it was known when the Mansion of wood was newly build for the Navigators Guild, was reeling under the increasingly despotic rule of Moff Foga Brill, after the failure of Operation Shadow Hand it was said the already "spiritualist" pessimist had fallen deeper into twisted Dark Side belief.
 
His so-called Constitutional Protectorate of Prakith barely held sway here, the Moff, rumour had it, had become increasingly paranoid and isolationist.
 
Lieutenant Asten Raduuk of the Imperial Security Bureau operating within the Autonomous Fleet Triumvirate paid attention to such rumours, listened closely as they walked the cobbled paths of the narrow streets of the capital in formation after landing at an outer bay in a single Lambda craft.
 
Insertion had been a simple enough affair, access codes and officer permissions that had been suspended between Remnant--my how he hated that word--factions were removed during Operation Shadow Hand and many had not been reinstated allowing imperial officer their rank based privilege to move unencumbered amongst, what to him, was still the Empire.
 
Yes the Emperor may be gone, but the Empire remained, the Bureau remained, even in "exile" from its headquarters and lacking central co-ordination.  It needed only agreement of the fractious Moffs to reunite, and Raduuk firmly believed, that the Triumvirate along whom he operated (remaining of course an agent of the ISB) offered an excellent example of how the Empire should be organized.   
 
“This is the place,” his escort noted, Captain Evecen Deus of the Marauders had been tasked by Admiral Mercet personally to provide security, the tall officer had sharp patrician features that contrasted Raduuk’s own more rounded visage directly, and quite pale skin compared to Raduuk’s honey brown.
 
Deus looked around noting among this area of the city there was little activity at all and less security, tourism was gone entirely, and the populace at large were unwilling to step outside and risk the ire of the roving "Red Police" of the Church of the Dark Side.
 
It was a strange infiltration, as in truth they were not disguised at all, Deus and his Marauders in typical Storm Trooper rather than Death Trooper gear of course, but Raduuk and his three adjuncts wore their normal uniforms, Imperial garb seemed to provide no cause for suspicion here.
 
“It is,” Raduuk confirmed.

Deus, green eyes narrowed scanning the empty streets, cluttered on every side by the faded grandeur of un-maintained facades of old woods and steel, now merely frontages for towers behind them, while the rest of the city sank; in every sense of the word, the ground seeming to groan under the weight of "newer" buildings, long cracks on anti-Imperial graffiti crawled retaining walls, it seemed, only the Old Guild Mansion had been raised up to the stars whose knowledge it held.
 
“We will secure the area, do what you need to, check in 2 arns.”  Raduuk nodded and the troopers dispersed around the Guilds entrance, the Statue to Lost Navigators once so prominent now a toy beside the vast tower that boasted many docking bays, landing platforms, and computer server databases to store navigational data from any willing to donate it, once a haven for travelers and explorers.
 
In faded gilded words over the cavernous street level mouth was the Guilds Motto: “Upon Unknown Paths we Find Our Place.”

...Ironic... Raduuk thought as he strode in, the words somewhat haunting to him.  Regardless of his unease, he had a job to do.  He would get General Vondhem the intel he required, for the ISB.

For the Empire.
 
          <<<<< >>>>>
 
They were professional, fast, and coming a damn sight too close for comfort, putting an end to both their Sabacc game as well as their waiting.

Something that Zearic was suddenly regretful for complaining about.
 
Six hours earlier they had detected their arrival in system, 30 minutes later the first fly-by of TIE Interceptors with scanning equipment.  A second fly-by 45 minutes later told Triad Isk, who had by then retreated to the calcified fungal cavern some 6 klicks from the only non-natural landmark, that these were not sloppy overconfident Imperials, but a cautiously aggressive force.
 
A final fly-by was followed by the landing party, the Vhal’Dan’s four insect size drones half buried in the red sands observing how Escorted Zeta landers first dropped off Storm Troopers with heavy environmental survival backpacks and Orange shoulder pauldrons on the rises around the ancient crashed star ship.  The shock troops securing and sweeping the immediate area for just over an hour before vessels were brought near the crashed vessel itself, the Interceptors continuing regular flyovers.
 
“This is a long way out for the Empire…” Olyna noted.
 
“With the number of factions they’ve divided into nothing would surprise me,” Zearic replied squinting on the grainy image from the Insect Drone closest to the ship, their TIE Guardian featured only one view screen linked to the drones transmissions, limiting his ability to observe them. 
 
Sio had signaled Command but they were yet to receive a reply, so for now they merely watched and waited.
 
So far in additional to securing fixed positions with mounted weapons at six points on the ridges surrounding the crashed ship, the Imperials had also set up Energy-fences around it at a 20 meter radius, the troops assisting lowering out 4 AccuTronic B-1 worker droids, attaching what had to be excavation tools to their multifunction elbow sockets.
 
A final Zeta now landed, Zearic zooming in to the maximum of the tiny drones ability, with the highly pixelated view  he could only just make out the mark of armour of the new arrivals.
 
“Death Troopers…this is a serious search party…” A small group of half a dozen in less armoured humanoids in enviro-suits followed them, in addition to the standard Imperial "cog wheel" insignia on the left arms was another similar round one with a three-pointed star variant on the right Zearic didn’t recognize.
 
“Unique insignia, not Pentastar…but can’t say I’m up to date on all the factions,” he stood to allow the others to get a look, the small comms and workshop room which would be cramped with even one Cataphract was positively claustrophobic with three.
 
“I don’t recognize it either…” Sio noted, the studious younger man usually keeping well informed of the events of the Civil war.
 
“Odd considering the vast resources they possess,” Olyna added now leaning in after Sio, “They appear scientists and tech staff…” She watched as they positioned their droids following scans with hand held devices likely some kind of Ground Penetrating Radar.  “…they are looking for something specific, operating at a steady pace.” She observed.
 
“The question is…” Zearic murmured arms just able to cross his armoured chest, “…does it pose a threat to us?”
 
The Vhal’Dan had no interest in engaging against any of the Empire's factions, whatever the previous antipathy as a result of the Inquisition's desolation of their colony on Kewda, the practical and political reality meant there was no point pursuing a vendetta or antagonizing them.

Especially with the Hapes Consortium already gunning for the Order.
 
So long as whatever the this Imperial faction desired here was of no threat to the Vhal’Dan, there was no reason to become involved.
 
Sio swung round as an alert buzzed on his hip, reading the short burst text from the Cataphracts QEN²: it utilized pairs of particles that are linked on a quantum level; any effect on one particle is mirrored instantaneously by the other, regardless of the distance between the two, allowing almost undetectable instantaneous communication. The disadvantage was of course being so closely paired it could normally only connect two users at any given time.  To counteract this all Triad QEN comms were linked to a central hub located on a small planetoid on LV-8219 where the Entangled pairs of all the QEN comms resided.
 
A simple Virtual interface nicknamed "QEN-y" could then transmit the message received on one pair to another recipient or indeed the whole network, the QEN Comms devices entrusted typically to the Tertius of each triad, though senior members had their own, the manufacturing of linked particle pairs a delicate and difficult process limiting their number to only a few dozen.
 
“Command says continue observation, check in every 2 hours.”
 
There was hardly anything else they could do, the TIE Interceptors sweeps were coming now every 20 minutes, and there was likely at least two larger vessels in orbit in addition to the one they initially detected.
 
“Let us hope these Imperials leave as swiftly as they arrived,” Olyna noted.

Zearic nodded but wasn't about to count on it.  Looking from the corner of his eye, he noticed that both Olyna and Sio felt the same.  Silently, he said a prayer to the Maker...

...And checked all of his weapons.

As his fingers absently stroked the hilts of his Oblivion Daggers, he hoped that D'Aylanna was having better luck than he was.
_______________________________________________________________________________________
2. QEN: Quantum Entanglement Network

[TheDutchman]

Chapter 4: Bread Crumbs, part I
Exiting the hyperspace tunnel, Fenris’ Dirge re-entered Real Space above a bloated, green gas-giant, the noxious atmosphere shining like a toxic, sickly jewel amidst its orbital making the black of the surrounding space that much darker…but for one conspicuous exception: an urbanized, heavily industrialized moon the size of many planets.  It was this ecumenopolis that the stealthy vessel sped towards, soon joining the crowded space lanes into the upper atmosphere.

Nar Shaddaa.

Making its descent through the polluted atmosphere, the Mandalorian Infiltrator smoothly cut through the skylanes, its sleek, dangerous hull diffracting the constant light coming from the oppressive, unbroken cityscape below.  It was not the first time that D’Aylanna had been to Nar Shadda–indeed she was very familiar with her current environs–but every other time she’d been there she’d had her Shakal with her.  …Never enough time… She thought wistfully.  Determined, she prepared to land.

With D’Aylanna as the lone occupant at the controls, the graceful lines of the vessel were equaled by her piloting, easily transitioning from skylane to landing berth, electro-landing clamps securing the craft as the lift sank into the docking bay.

By rote she donned her armor, the lithe plating reinforced by a strong nano-weave, ideal against blasters as well as blades.  As stealthy as it was, her armor was neatly hidden beneath her dark, gray robes, perfect for blending into the crowded thoroughfares of Nar Shadda’s streets. 

Taking a page from her Shakal, she first buckled on a holstered blaster at her hip, quickly followed by several vibroblades in her armored boots and vambraces.  She then attached a total of 6 variable grenades about her armor, inconspicuous to the casual observer.  With a mini-holdout blaster secreted in the underside of each vambrace, D’Aylanna finally clipped her lightsaber to her belt.

Now she was ready.

Making her way into the Infiltrator’s cargo bay, she thumbed a button on her vambrace, opening the ramp.  Before it had even fully extended to the deck, D’Aylanna had hopped off, heading directly to the large, red Nikto already on-deck to collect “fees.”  He was almost the size of her Shakal.  Almost.  Standing her full height, the top of her hooded head barely reached his rotund chest, the size disparity almost comical.

Her tone, however, was anything but.

“You will look after my ship as if it were your boss’s.” With a dangerous glint in her dark eyes, she used the Force, pressing against the Nikto’s mental barriers and effortlessly batting them aside.  “I’ve already paid all ‘tributes,’ including the ‘loitering fee.’”  Involuntarily, she touched her lightsaber hilt with her left hand, her right easily resting on the butt of her blaster.

Not that she needed either of them.

“I’se lookin’ af’tr yer sh’p.  You’se alr’dy paid.” He intoned almost sluggishly in his thickly accented Basic as his heavy shoulders slumped, his black eyes glazing slightly as the Force Suggestion took firm root in his mind.

“Your master will be pleased.” D’Aylanna said offhandedly as she scanned the entire complex, eyes scrutinizing the multilevel balconies of the landing docks.  They were alone.  “What’s your name and which Hutt do you work for?” She asked slightly more interested, looking directly at the Nikto as she walked.

“M’master’ll be ple’s’d.  I’ms Mek Hapta.  Da Hon’r’ble Kajidic Gllagiosh the Agile.” He walked a meter behind her right side, assuming a protective stance.

As if D’Aylanna needed that either.

“‘Gllagiosh the Agile?’  Now that would be something to see.” She had a ghost of a smile upon her lips.  “Thank you, Mek.”  She lightly touched the Nikto’s beefy forearm, fortifying the last of her Force Suppression as it locked firmly into place within Mek’s mind.  “I shall return shortly.”

“Y’s m’str’ss.” He dipped his chin, touching his thick neck.  “You’se g’nna r’turn soon.”

Satisfied, she deftly slipped a 500 credit chit in his massive palm before pulling her hood tighter around her head, leaving through the nearest blast door and through the semi-circular hallway and, finally, the main thoroughfare before disappearing amongst the crowd as she waded into the Nar Shaddaa throng of beings.

Yet even unknown to her, there was one who knew precisely where she was…if not exactly where she was headed.  Yet.

But he could always find her.  Always.

   <<<<< >>>>>

Completely unseen, the gigantic Hamask made his way from his hiding place within the hold of Fenris’ Dirge and through the closing ramp to silently shadow one of the landing struts while the 7th Speaker easily worked her Jedi Mind Trick on the local “constabulary:” a large Red Nikto, dangerous to be sure and intimidating enough to ensure that all tribute is collected…

But nothing compared to a Hamask.

Or’an was over twice his size, not that the Nikto would ever see him.  Besides, he was not the Tof’s target.

No, the Nikto was safe, at least from Or’an.  As was D’Aylanna…unless she got in his way.  It was Jorya Vih’Torr whom he’d declared “Damnatio.”  While she’d completely disappeared, the Hamask felt that the best way to find his target was through the 7th Speaker.

And his instincts had always served him well.

Wrapping himself in his unique form of Buried Presence, he breathed deeply, his incredible olfactory senses able to separate every single disparate scent, locking onto the 7th Speaker.  She could go anywhere on Nar Shaddaa and he would be able to find her.

Jumping easily over the landing bay’s bulkheads and over the balconies, the Hamask kept a vigilant eye over the throng of sentients, flows of people like currents ebbing to and fro throughout the overcrowded streets, buildings, and vehicles.  And there half a kilometer away, the 7th Speaker glided through the mass of persons that seemed to part before her.

It was quite the trick, Or’an admitted to himself.  She wasn’t using the Force or any weapon, yet people moved for her.  He smiled knowingly.

At 1.5 meters, D’Aylanna was less than half his height but the force of presence that the Hapan master demonstrated…

Again, he wondered how she’d fare against him in a contest of martial skill… Surely, she would last longer than any other opponent he’d faced.

Of course, he was certain of victory; not as a byproduct of ego but rather out of immutable historical provenance: in all of his experience, he’d never come across anyone or anything that presented him with what he’d consider a challenge.  He was Hamask; that was all that there was to it.

He was Hamask.  And his judgment was absolute.

          <<<<< >>>>>

[TheDutchman]

Special thanks to LSG; with minimal edits, most of this is his writing    This chapter is dedicated to him!
************************************************************************************

Chapter 4: Bread Crumbs, part II
Heavy black boots with Ditanium Tread sunk slightly into the crimson sands of the scarlet world.
 
Darkside Executor Kintik looked up at the erosion rounded skeleton of the ancient vessel that protruded as if a monument to Civilizations folly from the red sands as the strange sun cast a pink dusk over the planet
 
He had already been en route to the small slice of the Unknown Regions, taking the Irkalla ISD to support him, when he received a transmission that narrowed the search area from 124 Systems to first only 32 and then 4 following an ISB lieutenant's successful efforts in the archives of the Cinnagar Navigators guild. 

Making best speed, the Irkalla was able to link up again with the Gehenna in the Unknown Regions, somewhat near Chiss Space.  Kintik had to admit that he felt a certain thrill, especially when Mercet had told him of the translation.  Unfortunately, it also served to mitigate his excitement; anything having to do with the Admiral's favorites always elicited such.

...Speaking of... He had rolled his eyes as he noted beneath Lieutenant Raduuk's Electronic Verification report the tag of the escorting Captain Deus, matching Professor Deus on the initial report that had marked this sector of the Unknown Regions as a search zone for whatever the Sith Wayfinder pointed to.  Mercet favoured her so-called "God twins" too much in his opinion; one should not become over reliant on any one underlying, no matter how competent they were. 
 
Lord Sidious had taught him that by example.  Vader was the blunt face of Fear, the Inquisitorious the enforcers, but the Darkside Elite and Emperor's Hands were the true agents of the Emperor and it was they--or at least they who remained loyal to Sidious' Vision--that would carry his legacy and Empire forward.
 
Escorted by Death Troopers the head of the excavation approached.
 
“My Lord we breached the ceiling of a cavern 600 meters down the port side of the vessel, as per your advance instructions the area was cleared, shored and not further explored pending your arrival.”
 
Kintik surveyed around him, the B1 Droids at rest, their excavator arms caked in the moist red sands, Techs using air-jets to blast off fungal roots they had had through, large piles of dirt from the four excavation locations used to build defensive mounds in which Stormtroopers were hunched over their tripod mounted cannons, the screech of Interceptors on patrol overhead.
 
The system, indeed the entire sector, was devoid of any known sentient life, trade routes or civilizations, regardless he would not spare any resources to attain the "power multiplier" the Sith texts had alluded to and the Wayfinders inscriptions indicated were comprised of a number of "Phalanxes."
 
“Continue your excavations I will enter.  Alone.” He commanded, thoughts of the Ancient Sith translation foremost in his mind.
 
Striding forward he rounded the vast broken vessel so wrecked and corroded its composition was all that could be discerned, nothing of how or why it had crashed, pausing only briefly to glance up at one of the ridges surrounding the impact crater in which the ship was located as a small tingle ran down the small of his back as if he were being watched.
 
He scrutinized the lip of the ridge for a moment, noting only an odd bloom of the fungi that seemed the only non-motile life form of this world…perhaps it was somehow semi-sentient observing them; he had heard of stranger things than that.
 
Regardless thus far it seemed inert even as they had dug through a root system, likely taking the comings and goings of motile beings in its stride.
 
He paid it no more heed reaching the port excavation where a repulsor platform served as a make shaft lift down the 50 by 50 meter shaft into the dark.

          <<<<< >>>>>
 
On the ridge behind the fungi reef Zearic breathed slightly easier.  Two hours earlier something had trembled across the Force when the excavation teams made a break through, something their tiny drones could not investigate.   Cloaked by their Integrated Stealth field generators--at substantial cost to their armours' batteries it had to be noted--and with the subtle use of a of Olyna’s misdirection mind "nudges" the Cataphracts followed the dark cloaked warrior inside.
 
[Recognize Anything?] Olyn asked over the Triad text based short range communication, the words scrolling along with other integrated sensory data past Zearic's eye. 
 
They had waited seven minutes after the lone figure had entered to approach, another fifteen before they reached the lift, again a few Force diversions to sneak in just before the new Interceptor fly over, and more importantly, their Cloak fields drained their suits power below 60 per cent.

They needed 40 per cent just to reach their ship again.
 
It was a calculated risk, to try and follow now...they did not know when or even if the Imperials would leave, and certainly if they did leave, whatever they had come for would be gone with them leaving the Vhal’Dan to scry out what it might’ve been with incomplete information.  The thought process among the Group Mind of the Triad was carefully weighted between the three members and only narrowly fell to moving in.
 
The Imperial presence was only 60 troops and 15 workers by their count, spread out and avoidable for the moment, waiting any longer risked more Imperials arriving and locking down the site beyond any hope of infiltration.
 
[Nothing.] Sio replied by blink clicking one of the suggested responses to save too much time blinking on the eye tracking keyboard.
 
Zearic looked along the walls: they were in large square sections framed by a fairly simple chevron border, so far no text or images that their hazy green low light enhanced lenses could detect.
 
[Nothing.] Zearic followed with, taking the middle position as they moved ahead, the corridor was thus far straight and quite narrow for the Cataphracts, they had no sign of the robed figure but they followed the minimal heat traces of his footsteps, sensors translating heat into blue patches slowly dissipating on the sand-covered floor.
 
They turned one corner to a four way intersection, an empty plinth in the centre covered in fossilized fungi, perhaps a fountain that it had tried to take root in in ages past.  The plinth was a of a similar angular design to the chevron wall block borders, the floor less covered in sand was the same as the walls, prefabricated mass-produced square panels used to line this underground facility.
 
Down the left path they saw a flickering light.  Firm and focused they moved forward.
 
          <<<<< >>>>>
 
His micro Searcher droids were still mapping the facility--fortress almost--while Kintik was led by the Darkside itself.
 
It was subtle, a whisper of what had been, as if in deep slumber, but he could hear it’s breath ebb and flow down the passages, inhaling and exhaling to a slow silent rhythm.
 
He could almost see the door heaving with the breath as he reached it; it was far from the only one, there were dozens of small chambers sealed that his Searchers had mapped and passed by.  It seemed the soils here were too loamy to support large weights, and the fungi too invasive, indeed he had come across many cracks where hyphae had once tried to break in then retreated from the nutrient absent air.
 
The door way was as simple as the rest of the architecture and, except for the inscription, it mirrored that along one etched groove in the Wayfinder perfectly, according to Professor Deus' translation reading: Phalanx of the Unbroken Gaze.  Despite his own careful study of the inscrutable language he had to give credit to the Professor for discerning as much as she had given the utterly novel dialect in which it was written; divesting itself entirely of the usual 8 diagonal vowel markers between consonants of the"‘common" version of the language he knew, in favour of some 12 diacritical’s below each letter.
 
His open hands paused, ready to push the door apart but he checked his eagerness, carefully seeking any hint of a trap trigger or other device to keep out intruders.  Instead, he drew heavily upon the Force.
 
There were hints in his senses, but too far back in time for his Psychometry to be effective.  Stepping back down the corridor at what he felt was a safe enough distance to react if there was a trap, and activating his saber in case he needed to deflect a projectile, he gripped the doors in his mind and pushed.

Noiselessly, the doors opened, the darkness of the cavern engulfing him as he stepped forward.
 
          <<<<< >>>>>

[TheDutchman]

Special thanks to FT for his awesome rendering of D'Aylanna    This chapter is dedicated to him!
*****************************************************************************

Chapter 4: Bread Crumbs, part III
As the turbolift doors opened, the metal screamed as it jerked in fits and starts, not fully opening on the left side.  Darting quickly out of the ‘lift before the stubborn doors slammed shut, D’Aylanna continued her determined gait as the relatively narrow walkway opened up to an incredibly wide street/city square, the diffused orange light filtering throughout the air.  But there was an ersatz quality to the illumination, the light seeming to promote more shadows rather than generating anything close to warmth.

In other words: a normal day on Nar Shaddaa.

Consequently, it was also her best option to find answers, answers that she desperately needed.  Apropos of such, with each step she kept her wits about her and her Force Senses alert while her mind kept replaying the Vision that she’d seen during her Meditations before leaving Sekot, the words burned into her mind as if they’d always belonged there:

At the end of the Hundred-Year Darkness
Where the Black Rains wash all away and
The Leviathans lie in wait to
Steal Life, and imprison it for the Time
Of Rebirth, the Three-Who-Are-One
Will become Two: One black, One Gray,
One whose life is Diminished; One whose death is Ameliorated
It is She who Yields; It is She who Controls;
It is She who Lives; It is She who Dies

D’Aylanna’s Force Prescience had always served her well but–even during the best of times–could be maddeningly disobliging.  Worse, the Vhal’Dan Archives had proven woefully insufficient to the task with vague references, ambiguous possibilities, and contradictory results. 

“...Damn…” She’d muttered a rare curse.

Not that she had expected otherwise; when Vader had attacked the Vhal’Dan Homeworld of Kewda and with the Empire laying waste to large swathes of the urban areas, most of the Order’s Archives had suffered as a result.  In fact, much of the recorded Galactic Histories had been lost, Preservationists only recently restoring many of the lost Chronicles.  But not all, especially with the Empire’s COMPNOR¹ doing everything that it could to rewrite everything pre-Imperial.

As she said: she knew that she needed help.

Moving swiftly, D’Aylanna soon entered the Red Lamp District, functionally similar to the half-kilometer she’d just walked through although the myriad of lights affixed atop the multiple overlapping cables were, of course, red.

Taking several turns with the practiced step of one familiar with the area, deftly negotiating through the throng of sentients crowding the current level she was on, she soon found herself slipping between two dark, dilapidated complexes and into an alley, her armored boots splashing in the fetid, puddling water.  Heading into the alley, it seemed that everyone else deliberately avoided the area where a subaural drone vibrated just below the hearing threshold.

Although her senses were alert, she was confident that she need not worry.  After what seemed like an eternity of walking–her night-blindness contributing to the impression of a lost sense of time, the Force her guide in navigating the twisting turns of the alleyway–she stopped suddenly.  In front of her slumped over an errant bulkhead stanchion was a vagrant.  Dressed in black, he was almost indistinguishable from his surroundings…and that was before taking her night-blindness into consideration.

However, not only had she sensed him as she approached in the alleyway but–having been here many times before–she knew what to expect.  “I’m here to see Nadia and Anton.” She said just above a whisper, although the alleyway echoed eerily nevertheless.

Without a sound and with a slight nod of his head, the vagrant moved aside exposing a doorway behind him.  It was not as if his body had obfuscated the door; one moment it wasn't there and the next it was.  Before she disappeared in the building, the vagrant gave her a respectful nod which she returned in kind.

For D’Aylanna, the darkness of the alley was identical to the black of the tunnel leading through to the innards of the complex; however, she suddenly felt the familiar comfort of the place settle about her, a serenity remembered and appreciated.

Such was the nature of Nadia & Anton’s: the building was a vergence in the Force--albeit minor--a sanctuary to all Force-sensitives regardless of their alignment. 

As she stepped into the main chamber, the cozy surroundings were lightly illuminated, enough to be comfortable but not enough to dispel most of her night-blindness.  Again, she wasn’t worried.

Around the large room many sentients went about their business: from small groups speaking amongst themselves to couples engaged in private talk to loners that, likely as not, had a drink in their hand and an impassive face.

It was towards the latter that D’Aylanna walked, a small smile spreading upon her blue lips as she approached.  Standing, a tall, svelte man stepped around his table, the dangerous look in his eyes softening.  With a tight smile, he wrapped his long arms around her in an amicable hug.

“Ralen, good to see you, Druzhba².” She said softly, her face slightly muffled as the intense man crushed her to his muscular chest.  Briefly, his face relaxed (if durasteel could be said to relax).  Holding the embrace for a moment, D’Aylanna noticed that her friend was hard as ever, his jet-black hair now peppered with a few gray strands, his piercing blue eyes raptorlike and constantly wary, the almost-healed scar on the left side of his face now joined by two, smaller scars, one fairly recent.  With all of this, she was once again reminded of one immutable fact concerning him:

Ralen Yorul was one of the most dangerous men that she knew.

He released her from their embrace and gestured towards the table he’d been seated at.  “Please.” His voice was low; not soft–his voice was just as hard as the rest of him–rather as if he were unused to speaking aloud.  Not that she was surprised; Ralen was the very definition of a loner.  She noticed that his eyes lingered on her armored vambrace but said nothing.

Sliding onto the comfortable seat behind the table, D’Aylanna was quickly joined by the wiry man, his back towards the wall while his eyes continued their endless searching, a blaster always within easy reach of his practiced hands.  Qualities that she more than appreciated. 

“Apologies for my caution, but I couldn’t discuss anything over comms.  Zearic sends his regards.” She began, her face adopting a serene mask.  “...But forgive my haste; my time is short.”  She casually scanned the room, almost certain that no one in Nadia&Anton’s would ever try to eavesdrop.

Almost.

Ralen gave a brief nod, his eyes unblinking.  “You needn’t worry.” He said, likewise unnecessarily.  Ever since they’d met³, they'd done one another favors for years, always helping when called upon and never once complaining.  On no fewer than two occasions had they saved the other’s lives; indeed, Ralen had saved both her and her Shakal the very first time they’d met.

She knew him, more importantly, trusted Ralen.

To D’Aylanna, this was no different…and yet the entire galaxy had changed.  “I need to locate my daughter.” She said, sudden unshed tears glistening,  “I also need information regarding ‘Leviathans.’  Cross-reference ‘Hundred-Year Darkness’ and ‘Black Rains.’” She felt a single tear roll down her brown cheek.  “I…I’m sorry that…that I don’t have more....” 

Closing her eyes, she once again witnessed the horror playing before her as the vibroblade exploded through her Shakal’s chest while the hate radiating from yellow Sith eyes stared at her helpless form from the face of her daughter.  It had been bad enough that D’Aylanna had nearly lost her husband…but then she had lost Jorya that night.  “Please…” She pleaded, a lump in her throat.  Breathing deeply, she regained her composure…but not before Ralen had seen the woman absent her mask of control.

That was how much she trusted him.

Saying nothing, Ralen gave her one of his rare yet reassuring smiles, just a slight curvature of his lips.  He controlled his emotions well, as well as any woman from House Royal.  He was also one of the galaxy’s best information brokers.  Period.

She knew that she’d made the best decision in coming to him for help.

Knowing that it wasn’t much to go on, D’Aylanna was confident that Ralen’s slicing skills were second-to-none.  She knew from experience that he could extrapolate disparate data threads, finding significant correlation intertwining around and connecting them where none had been before. 

Not to mention that he’d been involved in Imperial Intelligence, one of the Empire’s most fearful and dangerous departments.  No, D’Aylanna knew that there was no one better to help her with her problems.

From seemingly nowhere, he made a datapad appear, grabbing a cord from the side and inserting the end into the side of his head, his hidden cybernetics otherwise indistinguishable from his organics.  Each time that he typed, his eyes kept scanning several drop-down menus courtesy of ocular implants.  In no time, he had several dozen apps, documents, and coding lists working simultaneously, connecting him not only to Holonet but also several large private databases.

Still, it took him almost two hours; telling considering that it typically took Ralen a few minutes.  Regardless, it was time well-spent.

“Nothing with Jorya or anything remarkable containing Togrutas, not for your purposes at least…” He said distractedly, “Some archaic references for both ‘black rains’ and ‘leviathans,’ neither jointly compiled but tangentially from Celebratus, New Republic Central, and Library Galactica.  Something vague about ‘soul-stealing Sith’ and ‘god-seekers;’ but those seem apocryphal…” With a rush of flurried typing, he consulted several menus, eliminating many forthwith before carefully regarding those remaining.  Then with a small nod he finished his coding, enabling the program that he hoped would present an answer.  For several tense minutes they both waited, until…

“Corbos.” Ralen’s voice retained its quiet tone yet he had a hint of a smile upon his face. 

D’Aylanna blinked.  “I’ve never heard of it.”  Again, expected.  “Where is this Corbos?”

Ralen removed a datacylinder, a tight half-grin showing no teeth.  “Coordinates, biosphere, everything you need is here.”

She smiled widely, relief spreading across her face.  For the first time in several months, D’Aylanna felt hopeful.  “I am forever in your debt, Druzhba.” She made the datacylinder disappear among the many pouches on her wide belt, briefly exposing her armored torso.

“Trouble?” He finally asked, Ralen’s raptor-like gaze made his blue eyes that much more intense.

D’Aylanna knew that there was no one–other than her Shakal--who’d be better covering her back…but this was something that only she could do.  “I’ll be fine.” Her sincere smile was disarming.  “I promise.” She touched his forearm in thanks, grateful for Ralen’s latest assistance.

Besides, she did not wish to upset him with what she knew she had to do.  Such thoughts invariably reminded D’Aylanna of her Zearic as they always did.  At least her Shakal was appropriately occupied with orders from the Triarch… “I cannot thank you enough, my friend.”

For several seconds his stare was unrelenting…but suddenly softened.  “For you and Zearic: anything.” He made a gesture with his closed fist, an Alderaanian gesticulation which roughly equated to “family” or “togetherness.”  She was warmed by the sentiment.

“Likewise, Druzhba.” She stood, allowing the comfort of the Force to commingle with her newfound relief…yet it still wasn’t enough to completely dispel her misgivings.  Still, whether by blessings of the Maker, the Will of the Force, or simple luck, D’Aylanna was confident that she would be able to confront Gaetana.  She would face her foe and she would pay.

She prayed to the Maker, her trepidation leaching into her.  …Oh Jorya…forgive me Dear One…  She would do what she must.  Gaetana must never again escape...and it was incumbent upon D'Aylanna that she find her.

And, for once and for all, she would kill her.
____________________________________________________________
1. COMPNOR: Comission for the Preservation of the New Order, the agency responsible for the promotion of the Empire’s New Order ideals
2. Druzhba: Hapan for “family not of blood.”
3. As seen back in “Interlude-Samaritan, part1&2:” https://www.saberforum.com/index.php?topic=36209.msg611267#msg611267

[Lord_S_Gray]

Some cross galactic searches spurred by ambition (Kintik /Mercet) Caution (Zearic and the Triad) and desperation (D’Alyanna)

Kintik and Mercet are clearly determined to unlock all the secrets of the wayfinder and the power it promises, and are that much closer (with a little assistance from ‘Deus…’). I particularly like the idea of the ISB agents trying to retain some holistic sense of order as the Remnant increasingly fractures – Raduuk is ‘assisting’ the triumvirate in the absence of a central authority it seems.

And the Trimuvirate get to show off their strengths a little here, focused, determined in their search, but not reckless, with a cautious deployment that frustrates the Triad’s efforts to infiltrate their excavation…and what shall Kintik find down there, and how does it relate to the Ars Inges interlude?

One can also appreciate the bind the Vhal’dan are in, the Hapans are after them, they need to follow up any irregularities at Sekots new location…but at the same time they need to stay hidden because of the Hapan’s…wisely they have adopted a ‘live and let live’ or rather ‘ignore and let ignore’ approach to the Remnant – but how long that can last is another thing when they are in their backyard digging things up. It’s a risky moved but ultimately it seems the Dark side stirrings meant the Triad had to follow Kintik, Imperial Remnants and ancient Dark side artefacts are a very dangerous mix after all.

And a good cameo from Ralen giving D’Alyanna an assist, it is worth noting how quick she is to show the strain to him, even accounting for their family like bond, the toll of her worry for Jorya and dread at her visions seems to rise every moment….and shadowing her is the Hamask, ever watchful, ever observant, primed to strike the instant his target is spotted. D’alyanna may be preparing herself to ‘do what must be done’ to her possessed daughter…but she may not have to….

It was, as always, a great pleasure to have been able to contribute to Dutchs overall narrative.

[TheDutchman]

Interlude-The Ars Ingens, part II


Belsavis, 3636BBY
Ducking beneath a savage cut from an old vibroglaive, Darth Obliquus stabbed upwards into the screaming human’s chest with his blood-orange saberstaff.  Using his momentum he kicked out, the armored heel of his boot slamming into a nearby Nikto’s solar plexus, causing the reptilian creature to drop both of its fashioned shanks.  Pivoting his wrist, his saberstaff cut through both the human’s and the Nikto’s necks, heads falling at his feet, leaving a single opponent who had hung behind his companions.

With the deaths of his fellow prisoners, the lone dirty human fled from the grisly scene, leaving the Sith Lord by himself.  Again.  Although their forces had drawn out many of the prison’s populace, the Ars Ingens had encountered many such groups that had remained within The Tomb.  He seemed to have gotten arterial spray over his right vambrace and cuirass…

Breathing normally, Obliquus took advantage of the relative calm around him to scrutinize his comrades.  Not that he was worried; he knew that there was nothing in The Tomb that his army couldn’t handle.  

That wasn’t to say that there weren’t dangers–by the Emperor the prison was amongst the worst places in the galaxy, even for Sith–but Obliquus was confident that he and his compatriots together could handle whatever they came across.

…Although there were still that stor–

A loud, crashing explosion drew his attention to the right as Darth Surdus bodily threw a large, brown Trandoshan through one of the constructed walls, the enormous man calling his massive red lightsaber to his waiting left hand while he gestured with his right, pulling the fallen Trandoshan back towards him using the Force…right into the path of his saber cut, bisecting the alien.  As both severed sides collided against the bulkheads, they burst open in a bloody display of gore.  “Try growing that back!” Surdus snarled before noticing that he wasn’t alone.

Smiling, he nodded to Obliquus and joined him.

“How much deeper?” He asked, the man’s deep bass voice reverberating through the cavernous prison room while muted sounds of carnage and destruction echoed dully from the other rooms.

Before Obliquus could answer, four more prisoners burst from the adjacent tunnel, all of them wearing identical looks of panic.  Obliquus was almost amused; he knew what–or rather “who”--had elicited such looks.  He needn’t wait long…

His patience was almost immediately rewarded: a screaming purple blur sped through the congregated prisoners, a sudden flash of orange left several afterimages as the prisoners seemed to be held suspended fast in the air.

Which they very much were.

Theatrically holding forth a closed fist, Darth Invidia swaggered towards the prisoners before slowly releasing her fist.  Like some kind of macabre dam breaking, the eviscerated bodies of the prisoners burst apart, dismembered limbs, heads, and organs falling to the floor amongst a small lake of blood and offal.  Pity; he’d just polished his armored boots…

Careless of the blood spray that dotted her face, the small Sith Lord joined the two men, a sadistic grin upon her cherubic face.  “Obliquus, you said that we’d face heavy resistance; you never once mentioned how much fun we’d have.” Casually, she rested her saber-pike upon her shoulder while her head pivoted upon her neck, darting eyes constantly scanning for dangers.  “Such treats deserve…equal compensation, shall we say?” Her deep, throaty laugh promised carnal desires that most would consider lascivious.

Obliquus, however, felt not even a hint of stirrings despite the woman’s sensual demeanor.  He was, of course, used to her; indeed, he was familiar with all three Darths under his charge.  As they, him.  “Serving our Emperor is my reward.” He intoned absent emotion.  Yet if the small woman took any offense, the deepening smile upon her haughty face showed nothing of the sort.

“Of course.” Her dark eyes flashed with both humor and menace.  “But on that note: just where is this so-called Serv–”

A series of thunderous booms momentarily deafened them as another group of thuggish prisoners were bodily thrown across the cluttered deck, their bodies contorting in agonizing and wracking spasms as thick purple lightning arced from the adjacent cavern and through each of their bodies, causing them to collapse to the floor.  While some had died, the majority were still alive.

To their apparent short-lived terror.

Striding up to the still-writhing prisoners, Darth Saggita took her time to stab each one living in the head with her lightsaber, the dark crimson blade casting a bloody sepulchral pall upon her pale face, mirroring the blood of her victims.  To any onlooker, they might think that she was about some menial chore for all the emotion that she showed.  That is until she espied her fellow Darths; she adopted an appreciative bent to her mask, a look that did not touch her eyes.

Done with her grisly task, she strode over to the other 3 Sith masters, her ignited lightsaber conspicuous in her hand.  Good; Obliquus considered such vigilance necessary, especially given where they were.  He arched an eyebrow: he seemed to have an entrail stuck between the armor plating of his knee-join…

As she approached, she gave Obliquus a small bow, bending her head slightly at the neck.  “Lord, I’ve news: having sent my subordinates deeper within The Tomb, they inform me that they’ve encountered an obstacle.” Sagitta’s playful monotone reflected the mask affixed to the woman’s face, her back ramrod straight as her eyes scanned the surrounding passageways, trash and broken furniture scattered throughout.

Before Obliquus could speak, Surdus barked a laugh.  “Don’t be so coy, Saggita.  You’ve already got my attention.” The huge man’s lopsided smile was at odds with the dangerous look in his eyes.  For her part, Saggita stared without expression although her eyes flashed as she quietly sighed.

Obliquus again arched an eyebrow, ignoring the interchange.  “An ‘obstacle?’”  Apparently what he was told must have held at least some truth.  “Lead the way.”  Although his voice was ambivalent, the other three Darths recognized the gravity of the situation, falling in beside the tall, thin Sith Lord.  If that story was true, this could get interesting…

All four took off at a brisk pace, each commanding their underlings to hold their positions and secure points of egress, lest the remaining prison population of The Tomb overwhelm them, even in their diminished state.

…Which was the precise reason why Obliquus had commanded each Darth of the Ars Ingens to bring their respective army.  After all, a Sith force 40,000 strong could deal with virtually anything.

Making their way through dilapidated industrial passageways both immense and confined, they penetrated deeper into the old Rakatan complex, mindful of traps both contemporary and ancient.  As they passed, Obliquus noticed shadowed eyes peering out from the darkened unlocked cells, grubby and bent bodies hidden beneath ratty, torn rags.  One and all they ignored the four Sith Lords, especially any that met their eyes, those that did shambling deeper into the darkness.  Shortly, they were met by some of Saggita’s Sith soldiers.

Bowing deeply, they took up positions surrounding the Darths as they escorted them from the main thoroughfare and into a large, heavily barred tunnel.  Even though every single cell was open, Obliquus could tell that the cells could be sealed with a blast door over two meters thick.  This must be where it is… He pondered, unignited saberstaff wrapped in a tight grip.  After several turns, they joined the rest of the platoon, each Sith soldier, acolyte, apprentice, or Lord heavily armored.  Two of the black armored figures turned from the enormous, jagged black hole in the wall and swiftly walked towards the four Darths.  Bowing low with their right hands over their hearts, the larger of them first spoke to Saggita.

“Lord Saggita, one of the recon acolytes came across this hole after Sensing the being Lord Obliquus instructed us to watch for.  That was almost 15 minutes ago and we’ve gotten only a single transmission.” Dutifully, he keyed the holocomm in the palm of his hand, projecting the transparent blue ersatz figure of the recon acolyte.

Or rather the visage of a panicked face distorted in pain and terror, his cortosis-weave helmet somehow torn almost in half.  “...elp!  I…nder…ttack!  …ome …onerst…ous…be…st!  H…LP!” He spat before the holocall was cut off.

Obliquus could feel the undercurrent of dread through the Force coming from Saggita’s underlings.

But not not Darths of the Ars Ingens.

He almost felt pride.  “Lord Saggita: pull your Sith back.  Invidia, Sagitta, Surdus: with me.” To punctuate his order, he ignited his saberstaff, the dark orange light joining Invidia’s orange saberpike while both mixed with the darker red of Sagitta’s and Surdus’ lightsabers, doing little to dispel the shadows within the darkened cavern past the hole in the bulkhead.

Having each donned their cortosis helm, the four Darths ventured forth into the depths of the hollowed-out grotto adjacent to the super-max cells of The Tomb.  They marched in diamond formation, each one covering two of their compatriots.  Something very close to excitement tickled Obliquus’ throat.  Perhaps it was fear?  Regardless, these were raw, new emotions for him to savor.

He needed to tell his Darths what he knew…which in all honesty was next to nothing.

“There is a story that I heard about The Tomb, nothing corroborated.” He spoke quietly but swiftly while projecting his Force Senses outward.  “Something escaped from the Maximum High-Security Cellblock, something that suppresses the Force.” Thankfully he’d gotten that last before his victim had died.  “Do not hesitate.  Do not rely only on the Force to stop this thing.  Do not stay your hand.” His head swiveled from side-to-side, eyes scrutinizing everything from the rock strata along the walls to the prefabricated structures that looked so alien as to defy any kind of logical assumptions.  “Kill this thing.  Here.  Now.”

He felt all three Darths nod in determination, each wrapped within the Force, each with an iron grip on their lightsabers as well as upon their emotions, mitigating even their expectations.

They needn’t have waited long.

As if teleporting in front of them, an enormous, obfuscated creature roared at them, attacking brutally, each Darth counter attacking with their weapons.

To little avail.

Obliquus saw as each plasma blade connected with the thing’s dark skin…only to stop short of penetrating.  Even as each blade pulled back, the only evidence that it had been injured was a slight burning of the area.

But that was all.

“Saggita!” Obliquus yelled to be heard over the thing’s echoing roar.  Acting immediately, the tall, pale woman raised a hand, brutal, violet lightning erupting forth, almost every arc connecting with the thing.  However, just as with lightsaber strikes, the creature seemed resistant to Sith Lightning.  The screams that resulted sounded more irritated than in pain, but now Saggita had its attention.

Good.

“Invidia!” The small woman sped towards the thing, her saberpike stabbing over and over again, one thrust hitting a red eye, temporarily blinding it.  As she continued her offensive, Obliquus yelled again.  “Surdus!”  The enormous man ran up to the creature, each savage swing a powerful blow that threw the thing off-balance.  But, again, it seemed virtually immune to lightsaber strikes.

As intended.  He knew that they could not kill it–not with lightsabers nor with the Force–but perhaps they could trap it.

Obliquus quickly looked around, taking notice of the cavern’s sparse fabricated Rakatan structures.  There, towards the center of the ceiling was a large gantry-looking construct.  He just hoped that it would be enou–

[TheDutchman]

Interlude-The Ars Ingens, part II(cont.)


Suddenly he found himself looking up from his back, his vision blurry and ringing in his ears.  With an unsteady eye, he happened to locate two of his other Darths, Invidia and Saggita: they too had succumbed to what Obliquus thought was an explosion.  As his mind attempted to make sense of it all, he heard another roar, this one coming from Surdus.  For a split second, he turned his full attention to the gigantic man.

He’d lost his enormous lightsaber; instead, as he charged he barreled full-on into the creature.  Raining down blow after armored blow, Surdus had momentarily stunned the thing, his pugilistic offensive seeming to have taken it unexpectedly.  Obliquus took advantage of the reprieve.

Now he remembered: the creature had ducked behind a rock outcropping…only to suddenly lift the entire thing and send several tonnes of regolith speeding through the air as an impromptu missile.  Thank the Emperor it hadn’t been something harder like andosite or granite…

Like him, both Invidia and Saggita were already recovering.  Ignoring the pain and ringing, he yelled at them.  “Help me!” He gestured above to the gantry.  “PULL!”

Without acknowledging, they both joined his efforts, using the Force to Pull at the construct.  From the corner of his eye, he saw that whatever advantage Surdus’ blitzkrieg had given him was no more: the creature and he were now grappling each other, their wrists pinned by the other’s hand.  Faces centimeters from one another, they both roared in each other’s face…but Obliquus knew it was a futile gesture…

The creature was slowly overpowering Surdus, even with his power armor.

In a rare display of emotion, Obliquus shouted again.  “By the Emperor, PULL!!”  Gritting his teeth, he saw the same determination in the faces of Invidia and Saggita.  Sweat and blood threatened to blind them, the exertion through the Force only exacerbating their injuries, some grievous.

Time seemed to slow: millimeter by millimeter, the stanchion connecting the gantry to the cavern ceiling began to weaken, bend, and finally fail, the entire structure falling as tonnes of durasteel were Pulled down.

Simultaneously, Obliquus thrust his hand forth as a focal point, sending a potent, focused Force Push directly at Surdus.  The telekinetic force hit him square, breaking their lock and propelling him away from the creature and directly at the far cavern wall.  Sweating profusely, Obliquus attempted to mitigate the large man’s inertia, balancing both Push and Pull so as not to inadvertently liquify his organs.  He was mostly successful.  Mostly.

Surdus' armored body hit the rock hard enough to send up a cloud of dirt and pebbles, that self-same armor protecting him from the worst of the impact, although he still bit his tongue.
 
In a booming display of destruction, the durasteel gantry crashed down to the cavern floor, squarely upon the creature.  The resulting roar was deafening, so much so that Obliquus couldn’t be certain that it had come from the collapse, the creature, or a combination of the two.

Blinded from a mix of sweat, blood, and the dirt cloud kicked up by the gantry’s impact, Obliquus waved his hand to dispel the dust, coughing.  Pain, sharp and sudden, erupted from his side.  He wondered how many ribs he’d broken…and it was possible that one of his lungs had collapsed…

“My lord…” Darth Saggita’s voice sounded as if it were underwater.  An armored hand emerged from his blurred vision, quickly followed by another, both slender.  Good, Invidia and Saggita had survived as well.  Together they helped him to his feet.

“Slowly, Obliquus.  It looks as if you’ve had the worst of it.” Darth Invidia’s tone was less haughty than it usually was, her dark eyes almost looking concerned from underneath her helmet.  “I’ll administer a kolto subdural.” She muttered, already prepping the injection.  The results were immediate; he felt markedly better, if not exactly fine.

“Surdus…” He croaked, coughing again, spitting blood.  At least the kolto would take care of any internal injuries.  It would just take some time.

“Here, lord.” The enormous man staggered into view, his armor scored and dented but intact and working.  Blood flowed freely from a large laceration to his head, running from crown to below his brow but he looked otherwise no worse for the wear.  “What, by the Emperor’s ghost, was that?” He said as he injected his own kolto subdural.

Three sets of eyes turned towards Obliquus.  “From what I was told, some Republic experiment gone wrong.”  Tentatively, he breathed deeply, feeling only burning from his side.  He idly wondered how long he would’ve been able to breathe absent one lung…

“Come on, Obliquus, don’t keep us in suspense.” Invidia’s mood had returned to normal, its scathing overtone conspicuous.  Yet, she had not stopped with her Force Healing, her armored fingers lightly touching his cuirass.  Ironic that the sadistic woman was so talented with Force Healing.

“A hybrid, of sorts.” He inhaled again, the pain but a twinge.  “Feeorin, Dashade, and something else… Grew beyond their expectations and their control so they dropped it in the deepest part of The Tomb and forgot about it.” His voice trailed off as the memory of the scientist that Obliquus had interrogated solidified in his mind.  He’d been most helpful…

…At least after he’d been completely broken.

“Well that explains somethings like its durability and Force resistance.” Surdus barked an ironic laugh.  He’d found his lightsaber and held it ignited in his hand.  Standing in front of the gantry wreckage, it dwarfed even him.  Staring where the creature had vanished beneath the durasteel, his quiet voice seemed to reverberate through the chamber.  “Can that thing be killed?”

Yes, that was the question, Obliquus asked himself just that.  “I don’t know…” He spoke with uncharacteristic uncertainty.  Perhaps with more study…

“My lord…” Saggita’s voice echoed from deeper in the cavern.  He had not realized that she was no longer next to him.  Curiosity and something akin to anticipation percolated from his stomach.  Could this be what he seeked…?

He strode over to Saggita, both Invidia and Surus flanking him.  As they approached the tall woman, Obliquus saw that she was bent over something.  No, not “something” but rather “someone.”  Even though it was difficult to discern details in the dark and with his blurry vision, Obliquus could see that they’d found their objective.  Excellent.

"I've tried talking to her but so far no response." Saggita remarked, eyes pitiless.  Obliquus wasn't surprised.  He tried a different tactic instead.

“Ttsykk dqqa mii xu’wttoq’l al’qwvi’baljj¹” His guttural intonation of the Old Tongue was perfect, from inflection to morphology, although it sounded slightly off to his own ears.  The kolto hadn’t had time to heal his hearing yet.



From beneath where Saggita was kneeling was a humanoid, its red skin and daemonic features typical of the species: a Sith Pureblood.  Before, she'd been completely unresponsive and all but incurious to them.  But as soon as she heard him speaking Sith... Slowly, her eyes opened, looking from Saggita to Surdus to Invidia and, finally, to Obliquus, lucid and aware.  “So…the Emperor’s Leviathans have finally come for me…” She wheezed, face contorting in pain.  Obliquus looked from the woman’s face, focusing on her body for the first time.

Or rather what remained.

She was missing her entire right arm to the shoulder, her entire right leg to the hip, and most of her left leg from above where her knee should’ve been.  Looking back at her face, Obliquus saw that she was also missing pieces of her right ear, cheek, and cheek tendril, exposing jagged teeth and gums.

“Another week and I would no longer be able to greet you properly.” She laughed sardonically, gesturing with her unadulterated left arm.  Coughing, her sunken, pale red chest was racked with spasms.

“What happened?” Invidia sounded more curious than anything else, directing Healing with one hand and administering a kolto subdural with the other.

Before the Sith Pureblood could answer, a booming voice provided it.  “The creature was eating her.” Surdus deduced, the large man casually stroking his bearded chin.

Smiling a rictus grin, the Sith Pureblood gave a curt nod.  “He’d already plundered the entire floor’s food storage…and I was one of the lucky victims he’d abducted only recently… It broke my back in several places, incapacitating me… He then began with my feet…and my fingers…always while I was conscious…I saw it finish off several others as it…consumed us at random…” Again, she gestured with her left arm, pointing to one of the near corners of the cavern.

Obliquus could see a collection of bones littering the area, picked entirely clean of flesh, skeletons large and small were thrown together in a loose heap.  Human bones, Togruta, Twi’lek, Cathar, Trandoshan scales…it appeared that the creature had even consumed a Herglic adult and child…

Mentally shaking his head, Obliquus focused on the matter at hand.  “We need your help.  The Ars Ingens seeks the Emperor but have been unable to find him.  I believe that you can assist us in that task…” Obliquus’ stare seemed to pin the Sith Pureblood fast.  “...Servant Six.”

Laying her head down upon the ground, the Sith Pureblood seemed to relax.  “It’s been so long…” The pain appeared to drain from her pale red face.  “I…I haven’t been able to hear our Emperor for several years now…but I can still feel him.” She admitted.

Obliquus was not surprised.  It was said that all the Servants could do just that; in fact, that was the precise reason that he and his Darths had repatriated this Servant Six.  She would lead the Ars Ingens in the search for their Emperor.

“Yes you will perform your duty, Servant Six.” Obliquus pronounced, a feeling close to excitement beginning to take root.  “And as the Emperor’s Leviathans, we of the Ars Ingens will inaugurate a new Sith Empire for our Emperor…” Absently, he rubbed his hands upon his armor, as if to wash away the dirt from this accursed place.

Now that they’d found Servant Six, he wanted to be away from The Tomb, indeed from Belsavis altogether.  And the sooner, the better.  His hearing was improving; he thought he could hear the grinding of Servant Six’s exposed teeth.  It was almost interesting.  Finally, they could begin in earnest.

“Our search starts now.”
__________________________________________________________________
1. "Ttsykk dqqa mii xu’wttoq’l al’qwvi’baljj": Sith for “Next time in the Emperor’s Glory.”

[Lord_S_Gray]

The emperors servants, these Ars Ingen as loyal as they are resolute in seeking him out, delving even the most fearful places. What was that thing they fought? If it could match strength with Surdus and had the twisted mind to leep its victims alive when feeding perhaps its better they don't know! And ultimately they achieved their goal, yet even this is just the beginning. Getting a stronger display of each Darths character with each appearance but still the connection to the present day remains elusive no doubt the reveal will be worth it though!

[TheDutchman]

Chapter 5: A Brief Time In History, part I
Surrounded by the blue quantum tunnel, Fenris’ Dirge slid through its transit in hyperspace, the black quandranium armor reflecting the blueshift across its hull.

Much like its occupant reflecting upon her past.

Sitting cross legged on the deck in nothing but a bodysheath, D’Aylanna listened to the quiet thrum reverberating through the ship as she used her downtime to Meditate but, invariably, her thoughts returned time and again to Jorya.

Her daughter.

Inhaling, her fingers and bare toes flexed in the muted light within her cabin.  ...I must do what is required… She repeated like a mantra.

…And yet, memories of her daughter, adored and beloved, crept into her thoughts, threatening to overwhelm her.  ...Stop this… Mentally she castigated herself.  Making herself breathe, D’Aylanna sought to embrace the serenity of the Force.  Stretching her neck, rolling her shoulders, and flexing her toes, she slowly exhaled in the hopes of centering herself and restoring her calm.

But tranquility was ephemeral, like sand slipping through her fingers.  Taught muscles refused to relax, her mind racing while every recent memory of Gaetana’s possession of Jorya¹ replayed over and over again.  She frowned and with uncharacteristic frustration cursed.

By the Maker, it was so difficult to reconcile her emotions with her obligations… She could feel the anger from within, hot flames of injustice burning the restorative cooling she desperately sou–

Her breath caught in her throat, the rage that promised to supplement the interminable sadness doused with the realization of her epiphany.

Suddenly, it became so clear…

Relaxing, her shoulders slumped, her heart slowed, and her chaotic thoughts calmed.  She’d been mistaken to think that avoidance was the answer.  No, what she must needs do–what was absolutely required--was to accept. 

She would burn each memory of her daughter into her mind, keep it, cherish it, and love every single second spent with her.  She would honor her accomplishments, take pride in her actions, and be grateful for her sacrifice.

Closing her eyes, she thought back, back to one of the first experiences with Jorya in which she’d felt incredibly proud of the young Togruta.

Oyuna Chan’dn had been Kage then and had charged Zearic to mentor Jorya as his newly acquired teidowan.  She was not even a teen at that time.  And yet the strength of character she’d demonstrated…

Wistfully she smiled.  Jorya had always had a strong personality, something her Shakal would often attribute to D’Aylanna accompanied with a wink and a smile.  But it was testament to her daughter that the young Togruta possessed an innate sense of honor even at such a young age.

D’Aylanna remembered her comm pinging, surprised by who was on the other end.

“Forgive me, Maenowan D’Aylanna, I was looking for Silver Knight Zearic Vih’Torr but he’s not answering his comm.” Master Gray Sheval Marras’ voice held a preoccupied tone, unsurprising given that his Psychometry was almost always active.

“I’m afraid that my husband is currently off-planet.  Perhaps I can help you?” She offered, only slightly concerned what the call could mean.

“Ah.  In that case, if you don’t mind, maenowan I’m afraid that your presence is needed here at the Strykka Annix Dormitory.  It involves your husband’s teidowan.”

Her curiosity piqued, D’Aylanna informed the Gray Master that she would be there post-haste.  Taking one of Zona’Uhladv’s many hyperloop cars, she arrived at the Order’s extensive teidowan barracks, the sinuous organic architecture of the buildings easily distorting the difference between the natural and the artificial.  It was a testament to the living nature of the planet and the Vhal’Dan Order’s conscious efforts to marry form, function, and harmony.

From the hyperloop car, D’Aylanna made her way into the largest building, taking turn after turn effortlessly (unsurprising given her eidetic memory) where she soon found herself in the Dean’s Office.  “Ah, Maenowan D’Aylanna, thank you for your promptness.” Master Sheval Marras’ distracted tone was usually off-putting to many; for the diminutive Hapan maenowan she merely took it in stride.

“Of course.  Now, what is this all about?” She arched a thin eyebrow, dark eyes already having taken in the scene: her husband’s teidowan was sitting on one side, back ramrod straight while the young Togruta stared defiantly at the three boys sitting opposite her.  Next to Jorya was a small, skinny initiate that was close to the Togruta’s age, certainly no older than 12.

No, D’Aylanna told herself, that wasn’t precisely correct: those “boys” were at least 15 and she was certain that one of them was only a month or two from 18… Regardless, one and all of the three looked as if they’d been in a speeder crash, bruised, bloody noses, and black eyes all conspicuous.

Interesting.

“Maenowan, I’m afraid that Teidowan Fah was involved in an altercation between her fellow teidowans.” His tone had an undercurrent of sorrow although D’Aylanna was certain that it was little more than an affectation.

Master Marras was an adequate if not outstanding bureaucrat…but not what D’Aylanna would consider a competent counselor

“Was she now?” D’Aylanna said while her intense stare bored holes into the three teenagers.  Stepping away from Master Marras, she stood directly in front of one of the three battered teidowans, the oldest.  “What happened?”  The directness of her question surprised the human teidowan, the youngest as it was.

“Erm…that is, Maenowan…we were just messing around with our friend–”

“That’s a lie.  They were beating on h–” Jorya didn’t shout but her voice nevertheless cut through.

Without a word, D’Aylanna held up a hand to silence her, eyes never leaving the three teenagers.  She’d seen them flinch at the accusation.  She continued to stare at the teidowan; unsurprisingly he averted his gaze downwards, unable to meet her steely eyes.  When next he spoke, his voice was just above a whisper.

“I…I’m sorry, Maenowan.  I…I…it wasn’t my idea!”  He said the last as a squeal, almost as if he couldn’t get the truth out fast enough.

The oldest teidowan tried to shout at the youngest while declaring his innocence…until D’Aylanna pointed her finger at him.  Immediately he fell silent.

“You needn’t say anything; I already know what happened.”  Without looking at the initiate she pointed at him.  “You three teidowans were hazing this young initiate.  Teidowan Fah then intervened.  After her considerate appeal, you three thought better of your questionable actions and decided to work off your aggressions against the nearest wall.  Then you all suddenly fell down around Teidowan Fah’s feet.”  She stared at each bruised teidowan in kind, her voice never once raising in volume. 

She then turned to Master Marras. “There was no altercation; this was all just a misunderstanding.”  Without looking away, she spoke over her shoulder at the three teenages.  “Is that not correct, teidowans?”  From the corner of her eye, she saw Jorya’s face frown…before a thin smile slowly spread.

The three teidowans looked from each other and back before looking between D’Aylanna, Master Marras, and the floor, identical masks of chagrin emerging on their faces.  “Yes, Maenowan Vih’Torr.” They glumly said in unison.

“You see, Master Marras.  Nothing amiss here.” D’Aylanna’s unwavering gaze bored into the taller Kiffar Master.

Blinking a few times, he seemed almost at a loss for words.  “I…” He actually seemed to be completely focused on the task at hand.  Incredible.  “I… Yes.  Yes, I see.  Sorry to have bothered you, Maenowan.”  He gave Jorya a final blinking look, almost in askance before his perpetual distracted mien returned.  “You teidowans are dismissed.”

D’Aylanna waited patiently as first Master Marras disappeared from the room quickly followed by the three battered teenagers.  She noticed that Jorya had taken the time to speak to the young initiate, his face radiating gratitude.  “Jorya, please come with me.” She said patiently after allowing the two of them a moment to speak.  Dutifully, she followed D’Aylanna, quickly falling into step beside her, the two almost of a height despite Jorya’s youth.

They walked in silence for a time, D’Aylanna leading them towards the dormitory gardens, the vibrant blue-green palm fronds beautifully contrasting with the grayish-beige of the rock strata while the pleasant, subtle aroma of cherry-apples permeated the air.

“Master, you know that it was me that beat them up…but why did you let them go unpunished?” Jorya asked as they came to a small-yet-wide, wooden bridge.

“So you think that they went unpunished, teidowan?” D’Aylanna did not quite smile.  Instead she looked across the calm pool of the shallow lake, the cirrus clouds reflected in the azure waters.  “You and I both know that those cuts, scuffs, and bruises did not come from a wall, regardless of what they agreed to.”  She stopped in the middle of the bridge, looking deep into Jorya’s blue eyes.  “I already know what happened but I would like to hear what you have to say.”

If Jorya was surprised, she hid it well…almost as well as any woman of House Royal.  Her estimation of the Togruta went up.

“They were picking on him, Master, bullying him…because he was smaller, weaker, and alone.  I…I couldn’t just do nothing.” Jorya’s teeth gritted, her slender hands balling into fists.  “It…it made me angry.  The three of them against one…and they’re older–bigger too!--and to act as mean as they did…” When she stared into D’Aylanna’s eyes, Jorya gave as good as she got.  “It wasn’t right.  I know Master Zearic would agree with me.”  She exhaled, as if releasing all the pent-up rage that she felt.  “It just wasn’t…it’s not right.”

D’Aylanna remembered being impressed although she’d kept her face completely impassive.  “Yes, Jorya: you are correct.  Their intimidation of the initiate was completely wrong.”  Jorya smiled suddenly, a brief look of triumph spreading across her face.  But only briefly.  “However, you are also at fault.  Not because you stood up against them; it is only just to do so in the face of such tyranny.  No, you are culpable of re-acting, doing so out of anger.”  She paused, scrutinizing Jorya’s face for understanding.

What she saw did not only surprise her, it impressed her further still.

Jorya’s mouth thinned, not out of anger but rather realization.  “I…yes, Master.  I understand.  I…I should not have reacted; I should’ve found a…a more peaceable solution.”  Her head lowered, her lips trembling for the first time since D’Aylanna had seen her that day.  “I…I am sorry, Master.  I…I dishonored Master Zearic.”  She looked up, staring straight into D’Aylanna’s eyes.  “I have dishonored you.”  However, she did not cry.

D’Aylanna remembered that was the first time she’d felt such pride in Jorya, not only as a teidowan but also as her & her husband’s ward, not to mention exemplary of the incredible young woman that she would become.

D’Aylanna gave one of her special, rare smiles, the kind that she reserved only for her Shakal and her Father Kazic.  Reaching out, she gently touched Jorya’s shoulder.  “No, Dear One.  Your courage honors our Family.”  She held both of the Togruta’s orange hands in her dark ones.  “As far as your mistake, that is how we learn, Dear One.  I have made several myself.”  D’Aylanna suddenly laughed, a sonorous, comforting sound.  “By the Maker, your own master has experienced his own lifetime of mistakes!  But your instincts, your character…they are unimpeachable.”  She held Jorya at arms length, a serene look upon her face.  “Remember Jorya: there are no perfect people, only perfect intentions.”

It was the first time that Jorya had hugged her, a tight, sincere embrace that immediately evinced D’Aylanna of Family.

Where once before it had been only her Shakal and Father Kazic–the only people that she considered Family–in her time within the Vhal’Dan…

…She now felt the natural conclusion of her husband’s apprentice.  No, she was more than that, much more.

D’Aylanna had found herself including Jorya in that small, small circle of beings that she loved completely as a family.  Her Family.

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{{{With the most minor of edits, this is LSG's writing    This chapter is dedicated to him!}}}
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They felt the blip of energy ahead, and after it a gust of pent up Dark Force Energies, like the rancid breath of a drunkard from Mamzer Station washing over their faces.
 
Zearic winced at the hideous sensation unfortunately amplified to his senses by the Triad union that sharpened everything.
 
...Emperor’s Black bones...! he nearly gagged.
 
If this was what the Imperials were looking for, they were more than welcome to keep it, if they could stomach it…Maker only knew he didn’t want it to come anywhere near him…but his Primus was already moving ahead, Olyna biting back the bile, feeling this was the reason the Cataphracts specifically had been sent.
 
They were the Sword and Shield, vanquishers of Shadow Warriors, Sith and Votarii, more than any of the Vhal’Dan they could withstand whatever infection this Imperial offshoot sought.
 
Covering each other, beskar breakers and gauntlet cannons ready they swept forward toward the light that exuded a foul oil of death and decay, blanketing their Force senses, and hopefully those of the being they were tracking.
 
[Stealth!] Sio quickly sent across, each of the Catpahracts rapidly reactivating their Stealth Field Generators and hugging the walls crouching.  Mere seconds later two micro drone searchers sped past.
 
Their scan of the facility done they were returning to Kintik, gliding through the dim unlit ranks of rectangular block to their masters belt once more weighty with Data.  
 
His saber ignited, Kintik touched it to the coals in a large brazier.  A crimson light spread as crackling flames along lines of coals around the wall illuminating the room, revealing the callous cruel gaze of Valkorion looking down upon them all, resplendent in his Imperial Regalia, robes that hung in perfect folds suspended forever in stone of a distant world brought here to forever watch over his Phalanx until the day they were needed.
 
Rank upon rank upon rank, this was not a tomb but a barracks Kintik realized as he looked behind him over the hundreds of rectangular upright slabs, his quick eyes counting, from the central path to Valkorion’s statue, 50 by 70 on each side.  3,500 soldiers frozen in time.
 
Not all had survived, he realized now able to walk along the “front” row.  The Carbonite had flaked and cracked on some, leaving hideously unintentionally mummified bodies half falling out of their slumber into death, explaining the more pungent Force energies, but as he walked along the full length he found on the row of 70 it was only 8.  He estimated roughly 10-20 percent had perished in total from the ravages of time, still astonishing given this couldn’t be less than 3500 years old.
 
The rooms his searchers had mapped were all somewhat smaller than this, most likely 50 by 50 troops, a total of just over 10,000
 
“Phalanx of the Unbroken Gaze, 10,000 Eyes Watch ceaselessly…” He whispered to himself.   The description had been accurate on that…now the rest he recalled dealt with “Awakening.”
 
There were no control panels on the slabs, the technology in that era likely only froze and thawed beings on an industrial scale, unless there was some mechanism he was unaware of within the facility, it would require very careful searching and analysis, and even then he could not simply awaken a Sith Army of millennia past and expect them to obey him…
 
No, there must be a mechanism of control, something they were yet to find… Returning to the statue he noted some large urns, text etched beneath the statue in the same dialect; good even if he couldn’t translate it himself it would more than triple the textual fragments they had, Mercet’s pet would surely be able to derive a translation efficacy over 80 percent with that.
 
But the vastness of the undertaking…the Irkalla would not be enough, the Gehenna itself was needed to bring the materiel and manpower necessary to carefully excavate this site.
 
Ah but other thoughts ran through his mind: had Lord Sidious known the extent of this? Admittedly 10,000 men was a drop in the Imperial Ocean, but if this was only the first of numerous other caches the Wayfinder pointed to… How many more troops were there to be awakened, what skills did they have, was it possible they were all Force Sensitive warriors!
 
The blankness of his face contrasted immeasurably with his rapidly spinning mind, one imagining his Lord Sidious’ foresight and knowledge, one that contemplated the practicalities and possibilities…

…Till the slightest puff of red sand from the floor in the crimson light caught his attention.

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_________________________________________________________________
1. As seen back in “Queen&Marquesa, Executioner&Cataphract CH.16 ‘Death, A Necessary End, Will Come When It Will Come, part III:” https://www.saberforum.com/index.php?topic=48094.msg801130#msg801130

[TheDutchman]

Chapter 5: A Brief Time In History, part II
D’Aylanna was suddenly surprised when she felt a wet drop fall upon her soft, dark sole, her delicate toes twitching from the contact.  She hadn’t realized that she was crying.

True, there was not a preponderance of tears nor was she sobbing, but she felt the awful pangs of regret, sadness, and misery deep in the pit of her stomach.  By the Maker, D’Aylanna suddenly wondered how it was that her eyes had produced only a few drops of tears instead of the deluge that roiled within her.  It seemed to her that with each single drop she felt an ocean’s worth of sorrow.

But…it must needs be done.

This–THIS--was how she would honor and remember her daughter AND still be able to do what was required.

...Another memory, another example… She thought to herself, something else to galvanize her resolve.

That was easy; she knew precisely when she’d felt that epiphany of pride and love for her daughter.

It was just before her Trial of the Dragon Cave when Jorya was on the cusp of graduating as a teidowan and ascending to the rank of Gray Knight.

They had just celebrated Jorya’s fifteenth Life Day and during those years she had progressed by leaps and bounds, always within the top of her class, indeed as one of the most remarkable teidowans that the Vhal’Dan had produced.  There were whispers that she had within her the makings of another Stryka Annix or even Sulen Rue Lai and that Jorya would be the strongest Gray Jedi in generations!

…If not for D’Aylanna already having done so before her. 

Nevertheless, the fact that the newly-raised Master Gray D’Aylanna Vih’Torr was one of Jorya’s mentors and instructors was often cited as one of the reasons for her tremendous growth.

But as far as D’Aylanna was concerned, she and her Shakal had something much, much more important to implement.

She remembered waiting in their shared apartments with her Zearic, the both of them casually relaxing in their solarium, drinking in the comfortable sunlight shining through the filtered ceiling-to-floor windows.  Sitting on one of the aircouches in the solarium on her knees behind her Shakal, her dark bare feet tucked under her, D’Aylanna messaged her husband’s broad shoulders.

“...By the Maker that’s good…” Her Zearic whispered, his hot chocolate forgotten on the organic kaf-table.  Smiling knowingly, D’Aylanna said nothing as she worked her small fingers at one of the many persistent knotted muscles in his back.

“So…” She began innocently, “...How did your training with Master Praney fair?”  Praney Torsin was Nexu Master of the Water Warriors and had been assessing possible candidates for entry.  The first trial?  The candidate in question had to fight him without being eliminated in the first minute.

Her Shakal grunted.  “I didn’t even last 45 seconds.”  Turning his head, he peaked over his shoulder.  “But you already knew that, didn’t you Ereneda?” He chuckled, producing a smile from her.

“You’re getting better.” She reassured, meaning it.  “I’m sure in no ti–” She cut off suddenly as her superior hearing caught the sound of the front portal of their apartments quietly opening.

“I’m home!” Jorya’s voice carried into the solarium.  “Mother, Father?  Where are you guys?”  D’Aylanna heard the Togruta’s boots hit the floor as she removed them, getting comfortable within her home, a tradition that they’d learned from Father Kazic.

“In the solarium, Jorya.” Her Shakal called back, sitting up on the aircouch to face Jorya when she entered the expansive-yet-comfortable room.  Delicately, D’Aylanna readjusted to sit beside her husband, her fingers gently grasping the thin neck of the crystal flute filled with an indigenous Hapan vintage, one of the few comforts from her former home that she allowed herself.

In no time, Jorya entered the solarium, her own soft orange feet making no sound as she sat across from them in a comfortable chair that she’d made her own over the years.  During that time, she’d gone from slightly shorter than D’Aylanna to almost her Shakal’s height, her lekku almost a full 20 centimeters longer. 

Draping her outer tunic on the back, she gracefully sank into the chair, sitting cross legged.  “By the Maker that’s good…” She whispered as her hands kneaded at her sore feet.

D’Aylanna and Zearic shared a secret look, one that Jorya noticed.

Head cocked, her eyes narrowed.  “...OK, what’s going on?” Her fingers expertly continued as the pain in her feet slowly melted away.

Her Shakal answered.  “Dear One, I’ve been speaking to your Mother.”  Slowly he exhaled.  “She and I needed to talk to you about something.” He stared at her with his strange and beautiful hazel eyes.

Jorya’s hands paused.  “...Sounds serious.”

“It is.” D’Aylanna insisted, her dark eyes piercing as she absently stroked her fingers along her husband’s forearm.  She knew that Jorya had never heard such a tone within her voice.

For once Jorya sounded uncertain, a pensive look spreading across her face.  “...What is it?”

Her Shakal did his own part, a half-frown furrowing his brow.  “As I said, we’ve been talking…” He sighed theatrically, Jorya hanging onto his every word as his voice lowered half an octave.  “...Jorya, there’s no way around this.”  A hint of worry began to radiate from the Togruta, as she sat properly in the chair with her feet flat on the floor.  Her Shakal shook his head.  “We’ve been speaking and…” Again he paused for effect, “...And we would like to formally adopt you, Jorya.” As he spoke her name, he finally smiled, adding a wink for good measure.  It was at this time that D’Aylanna’s own serene mask dropped entirely, her full blue lips spreading in a beautiful smile of her own.

For her part–as Jorya was hanging on every word–she blinked twice before barking a laugh.  “You…I…” Grabbing at her tunics behind her, Jorya flung them at her Shakal.  “You really had me worried, you gorg-face!”  But D’Aylanna noticed that the Togruta’s blue eyes were watery.  No surprise there; D’Aylanna tried to blink back her own unshed tears.

Then Jorya jumped up from her chair and into her Shakal’s thick arms.  Wrapping them around Jorya’s slender back, he turned his head to smile at D’Aylanna, tears unashamedly rolling down his cheeks and wetting his beard.  It was all that D’Aylanna could do not to cry harder with joy.

Instead, she leaned forward, holding them both in her arms (or at least as far as they could go).  She had spoken with her Shakal the day before, knowing what he would say even before speaking to him.

After all, Jorya was already their daughter.

“Mothe…Mom…Dad…I love you both so much!” She laughed as tears covered her own cheeks.  Her Zearic just hugged her that much closer, joining in with their daughter’s laughter.  “I would love to be part of your family!”

Her Shakal warmly smiled.  “Dear One, you already are.” He said kindly, quietly.

And as his eyes looked over, his gaze found hers.  They didn’t need to say anything; D’Aylanna already knew.

They’d been truly blessed in this life to find their Father Kazic and, eventually, each other.  And now their family had grown again.

D’Aylanna smiled as tears slowly fell from her own eyes, love and contentment surrounding, inundating, and uniting them.

A daughter.  Her daughter.  A joy that she’d never hoped to experience; a joy that she’d always silently prayed for…

A prayer that had been finally answered.

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[TheDutchman]

Special thanks to LSG; with but a small amount of edits, this is his writing    This chapter is dedicated to him!
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Chapter 5: A Brief Time In History, part III
...Shavit… Zearic groaned knowing they were busted.
 
The Secundus had never seen or heard of a place like this, hundreds of beings in Carbonite like some sick Bounty Hunter’s twisted collection, but they were all uniformed in archaic armour, staring ahead with unflinching focus.
 
Kintik pretended not to notice the intrusion, continuing to inspect a lone Carbonite block at the head of the ranks, most likely the leader, carved along the top edge in the Sith’ari Variant was what he roughly translated as “First Blade” or “Prime Sword”  of the 10,000.
 
A plan formed in the Triad Meld: Olyna and Sio would remain hidden and take as many recordings and artifacts as they could, Zearic would deal with the Imperial once he decided to stop pretending.  Their one advantage was that while the Imperial knew someone was there, he didn’t yet know who, and most importantly how many.
 
Zearic swept quickly and quietly between the slabs using them as cover to close in, his daggers and Balmung tingling to unleash.  IF a fight were to break out his best strategy would be to hit like a mag-train with the full force of his physical strength and daggers in as short a time as possible to make sure this Darksider didn’t have time to use any powers.
 
The Executor was unsure whether this intruder was some kind of defence mechanism he had awoken or a spy, certainly any member of the military would announce themselves to him.  He could not discount either, and the deep dark decay of this place, whilst it yielded intense potential Force power to draw on, was also overwhelmingly strong, dulling his senses as it crowded out all other subtle sensation he might detect.
 
“I know you are there…” Kintik finally spoke his saber at his side still blazing red as the eldritch fire that cast crimson shadows between the slabs, the rest of the Triad working to record all they could as swiftly as possible, Sio eyeing the urns at the far end hoping Zearic could draw the Darksider away long enough from him to swoop and grab some of the contents.

“Reveal yourself!” The Executor finally shouted as if impatient.
 
With a rapid spin Kintik unleashed a gale force blast that sent the accumulated dust of centuries blasting off the still features and floor between the slabs, his quick eyes seeing where the dust recalculated in the air unnaturally just as Zearic had been rolling cover to cover.
 
...Shavit…! The stealth field was still active but now he was a very obvious invisible blob moving through a dust storm, one that Kintik immediately sought to grab with the Force.
 
Zearic pushed against the invisible hand with his own powers, cracking the durasteel grip effectively enough that Kintik cautiously approached, the first strike having only been testing the resolve and strength of his opponent.
 
Power draining, Zearic deactivated the stealth generator and resorted to more conventional means moving between the numerous slabs to avoid being seen, his fully armoured size barely able to hide behind a single slab, but never for long as Kintik stalked between the rows sniffing him out.
 
The Secundus had only to buy time, Olyna had already obtained detailed scans of twelve slabs and a small sample from some of the mummified remains, Sio was capturing text etched along the lower walls and moving to the vast Statue and urns beneath as Zearic drew the Darksider away.
 
Kintik moved swiftly with his guard high and ready, his quarry darting between rows trying to avoid him.  He was beginning to get tired of this game of–

The Executor cut off his next step realizing why.  ...He is drawing me away from the statue…
 
He spun round to see a bulky armoured form gingerly lifting the lid of one of the large urn.
 
Battle erupted across the mausoleum like barracks: Kintik hurled his saber at Sio’s back with the Dark Side speeding it beyond sound, Zearic rammed slabs on either side over creating a domino effect as he burst down onto Kintik.
 
Snapping round the saber scraped and sparked against Sio’s heavy armour, nano-polymer filling the gouge, Kintik’s saber setting adequate for most light armour types yet insufficient to penetrate Cataphract plate.
 
The Executor flipped back as his spine turned to ice, avoiding the heavy fist of Zearic, the Secundus wishing to avoid playing his full hand of weaponry for the moment, the servo and Force powered fist instead smashing yet another slab over adding to the cascade of falling frozen warriors, the dull thud of their impacts echoing through the chamber.
 
No sooner had Sio staggered back up from the kinetic shock than Kintik’s saber was back in his hand and swinging at Zearic.  It was obvious to the Executor now these were interlopers, their heavy aesthetic matched nothing in the vault and a guardian would not be causing indiscriminate damage.
 
Zearic bounced back on his heels waiting for an opening that never came, running down the seconds to let Sio and Olyna secure the exit and grab what they could.  Kintik was well aware it was a distraction, but he could not risk taking his focus off the immediate hulking brute before him.
 
Realizing he would slip up before the Darksider did Zaeric shouldered into a blow allowing his thick pauldron to take the hit as he swept up Balmung, the dark blue blade humming to life as she grunted off the blow and swung up.
 
Kintik immediately retreated back, wanting to be nowhere near the enormous beskar breaker, the blade width at least twice that of his own saber and half a length longer, fitting for his opponent but enormous to him.
 
Zearic drove at the Executor with strong but simple katas as Olyna and Sio fell back.
 
“You’ve nowhere to run, surrender and I may show mercy!” Kintik snapped as he felt the full impact of Zearic strength ripple through his skeleton as he blocked a heavy blow from the Secundus.  Zearic offered no reply but that of his blade hammering forward, Olyna flashing a lamp on her helm to show they had the exit secured.

Unfortunately, Zearic was on the wrong side of Kintik to get there.
 
Both were tentative in their blows, Kintik well aware there was at least one more Heavy Infantry nearby, but also quickly realizing they were trying to retreat, Zearic likewise wanting to escape but cautious about what diplomatic ramifications drawing blood might have, a wariness and caution built over his many trials causing him to pull his punches.

There was simply too much they did not know, and too much at risk if an irreversible step was taken.    
 
Kintik for his part wanted one of these warriors alive if possible, but knew, with the light equipment he had–perfect for exploring tight ruins–it was unlikely he could breach their thick plate.  But other resources were available to him.
 
The Dark Side was old and thick here, easy to draw on for the Executor who began to take a strong lead as the surprise of the beskar breaker waned.
 
Crimson and blue clashed as they fought between ancient stone eyes, Balmung taking chunks of carbonite when it missed, Kintik only scratching the Cataphract armour's surface quickly repaired by nanites.
 
“Put him down Zearic!” Olyna demanded, it would be hard enough getting back through the Imperial camp if they hadn’t been alerted, let alone if they had!
 
No more time to lose Zearic let the chain upon the Curse of Balmung slip a few feet, the noxious blood that had long since stained it harmonizing with his own to intensify his blows and speed.  With a rapid stab, a mid-body swing, then overhand slash he forced Kintik on the defensive, the Executor grunting and feeling his muscles ache from taking the blows, fully realizing the pain even just blocking a Cataphract’s blow could cause.
 
But the Dark Side buoyed him up and knit otherwise torn muscle, switching to a single hand grip he took another breaker blow as he gripped the inert slabs nearby.
 
Auto-stabilizer micro-shocks in the Cataphract armour just kept Zearic upright as three huge slabs of Carbonite slammed into his back, Kintik seeing an opening and driving his blade into the join just under the left arm, cold heat searing through the micro-weave polymers and into the skin.
 
“AAAARGH” Primal fury drew Zearic’s hand to the Tenebris as he bashed aside a fourth Carbonite block with Balmung, Kintik pulling his saber and darting back to avoid the beskar breaker and summon a fifth Slab, didn’t see the lightless blade before Zearic burst forward with a reverse grip slash.
 
The Oblivion weapon sliced clean and quick through the Executor’s helm, the ultradense material considering the cortosis alloy no more impediment than a nerf butter, the keen edge slicing deep into Kintik’s cheek as he turned, the cut extending from the top right of his lip, under his eye, over his ear, ending halfway up his scalp.  Simultaneously, Zearic pressed a small button on the palm of his gauntlet, but nothing seemed to happen.
 
That was when the fifth slab slammed Zearic aside just in time to prevent him adding pressure to the Tenebris cut, Kintik felt the warm heat of his sliced flesh part and blood flooding out, wrapping the Darkside in himself he grasped two slabs and took a full defensive stance.
 
Before Olyna was forced to intervene, regaining some composure Zearic lined his target and threw Balmung straight at the untouched urn behind Kintik.
 
“NO!” the Executor feeling the danger to the precious artifacts dropped the slabs and grabbed at the beskar breaker with the Force, the Curse of Balmung and Zearic’s own strength keeping it hovering in mid-air as Kintik reached out one hand to “hold” it.
 
Zearic rushed the Executor with the Tenebris and his weight, feeling the slab's impact had done more damage than he had realized as his enhanced body felt stiff and slow compared to its enduring peak.  Kintik reacted swiftly, as the Tenebris sought his reaching arm, Kintik quickly dropped to his knees and thrust this saber upward, however clumsy and reactive it had the intended effect of slicing up through Zearics right thigh in the gap between the armour plates, the Dark Side guiding the Executors blow.
 
He grunted as he pushed the Tenebris into the Darksider’s bicep, dragging it out and along as he ran leaving another thin but painful wound in the Executor.
 
Pushing himself Zearic reached Olyna, Sio already ahead when he turned Balmungs momentum in an instant with a draining but effective micro teleport – all at once the saber was facing the opposite direction, and the newtons imparted by both Kintik and Zearic via the force working in the same direction sending it flying at incredible speed back to the Secundus ironically assisted by Kintik.
 
Catching the blade Zearic spun behind the doors Olyna was already pushing closed, the bleeding Executor gnashing his teeth as he pushed himself up in time to see the doors clang shut.
 
Olyna pressed both her hands forward infusing the door as best she could with kinetite energies to resist the Force blast that hit mere seconds later with a rumble.
 
“That should hold it!” She said, already moving with her Secundus.
 
Kintik growled and threw another wave of energy at the door, once more it resisted, but he could feel the “brightness" of the Force that held it dimming by another third.
 
Summoning up the dark side once more he pushed out another wave.
 
The door buckled and a large crack formed along the gap as he strode forward, slowed by stilling his bleeding wounds with the Force.
 
Zearic was doing little better with cauterized wounds in his shoulder and leg, Sio was already at the repulsor platform.
 
The Tertius helping him on board, they activated their stealth field generators, noting they had barely 20 percent charge left.
 
“We’ll need to run…hard…” Olyna noted as the platform rose, already taking out a grenade to affix to the repulsor once they got to the top.
 
“Twelve seconds,” She muttered, never once breaking stride.
 
Kintik saw the light of the shaft ahead–the repulsor platform unsurprisingly gone–when he spun under the opening to see the top of it high above him.
 
Then jumped back as it exploded.

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