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Way of the Vornskr


Mordresh

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I finally took the time to catch up after today's post. I didn't think I would become as entranced by your characters as I have, a pleasant surprise for sure. You set up the time frame well without divulging the true plans of Scirio for Rain, nicely done.

 

I hope you will continue to post as I would really like to see where this all ends up.

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I finally took the time to catch up after today's post. I didn't think I would become as entranced by your characters as I have, a pleasant surprise for sure. You set up the time frame well without divulging the true plans of Scirio for Rain, nicely done.

 

I hope you will continue to post as I would really like to see where this all ends up.

 

Thank you, I am glad you are enjoying it!

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Agony

 

Two figures covered in thick protective gear marched through the frozen landscape of Hoth. They were nearing a cliff when the taller one stopped. “Is this it?” the young Sith girl behind him asked. The figure nodded. “This is the place where you betrayed my brother,” the girl added, glancing around. Haresh scowled. It’s the place where he had saved a legion of men from her brother’s madness. “Were you expecting something more? I didn’t have time to build a monument to his passing,” the Zabrak spit with contempt.

 

Milica glared at him. “Tell me what happened,” she instructed. “We shot him, he fell off the cliff, he should have died,” the Zabrak shrugged. He then put down his backpack and opened it. “But you didn’t make sure,” Milica pointed out. The Zabrak took a collection of ropes and hooks from his bag. “That’s why we’re here now. I hope you can climb, little Sith,” Haresh said.

 

***

 

Rain circled the force cage inside her private quarters. The force cage’s electric current was capable of producing agony beyond some creature’s comprehension. It had taken its tole on the creature inside. The man, if he could still be called that, sat cowed on the floor. Afraid to meet the woman’s gaze. His clothes had caught fire long ago and his scarred skin was all that remained to carry the memory.

 

She had grown bored with her plaything sometime ago. The satisfying rush of vengeance was soothed. She would have to dispose of the creature soon, but she was waiting for the right moment. She was still milking her marriage for all it was worth. Once that story died she could turn to the new chapter she had prepared. Playing the media was a game she was a natural at. Her profile and fame only added to the massive amount of donations she was receiving.

 

She glanced at the creature and frowned. He had been watching her. Rain took several steps towards the force cage and the man shrunk back. “When I hiding from you,” the Sith started. “I visited numerous spaceports, they all had one thing in common: refugees. Their lives were destroyed by the Eternal Empire.” The man kept his gaze down while she talked.

 

“At first I almost pitied them, but my weakness was overpowered by contempt. Afterall I was fighting daily to take control of my destiny. To one day face the killer of my parents. Why should they be allowed to resign themselves to their fate? To give in to hopelessness.”

 

Rain shook her head. “They ended up being an inspiration. For what you did to me, death was too good. I will make you embrace hopelessness, husband.” With a wave of her hand she activated a switch on the cage. An electrical current suddenly tore through the man as he cried out in pain. Rain smiled coldly as the waves of agony washed over her through the force. Perhaps she hadn’t grown as bored of her plaything just quite yet.

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Catalyst

 

Scirio folded his arms as he watched his personal guard through the window of his office. The group was going through a training routine in the courtyard. Most members of the group were veterans of Alderaan’s civil war. Men who had tired of seeing their homeworld be torn apart. Others came from much further away.

 

Scirio had hand selected their leader, a grizzled veteran called Jahim. The man had been a Republic trooper at one point in his life. But despite that, he did not lack for the viciousness Scirio wished to cultivate in his men. Especially not after the Eternal Empire had destroyed every last person in his platoon. Men Jahim had grown up with ever since he enlisted. There was a cold quiet hate burrowing deep inside the man, another trait Scirio enjoyed.

 

Scirio glanced at an approaching speeder and saw his apprentice be escorted out. The Sith closed the blinders and took a seat behind his desk.

 

***

 

Rain frowned as she entered her master’s office. An office befitting the president of the Galactic Peace and Prosperity foundation. Various works of art decorated the room. A stark contrast to the little hut and freighters they had spent so many months on. Scirio was watching Ranania’s interview on a large holoscreen from behind his desk.

 

“You don’t approve of my performance?” Rain asked as she watched her master. The older Sith glanced at her and shook his head. “It was fine, it just made me realise we need to invest in our front.”

 

Rain nodded slightly. “What did you have in mind?” she asked. The older Sith contemplated for a minute. “I am planning to buy a medical research company. We can use some of its resources to set up free clinics in the cities.”

 

The apprentice narrowed her eyes in suspicion. “And why, my dear master, are you really buying this company?” Scirio smiled slightly. “I will tell you in due time, if you continue to prove your worth. Until then, I have a mission for you. The company I am interested in is valued too high, we need to get creative.”

 

***

 

A small hover droid projected a list of pictures for Breslin. The automaton had an almost completely faded out series number on its side, only an L remained. It had taken the Mirialan a long time to save up for a recording droid. It finally looked like her efforts had started to pay off with some of the networks.

 

The short Mirialan woman scrolled through the collection of archived pictures. One of the networks wanted to create an ad around their interview with Duchess Lucane. The only problem was that there didn’t seem to be any recent pictures of the duke and duchess together. “Very strange,” the woman whispered. Her droid beeped in agreement.

 

“There have been no pictures of any public appearances after the wedding? Were all the photographers sick?” the alien asked. Her droid exclaimed a quick series of beeps. “What do you mean, there haven’t been any public appearances at all?” the Mirialan frowned.

 

There was an itch forming in the back of Breslin’s mind. This was something the reporters she hung around with called a hunch. What if the Duke and Duchess couldn’t stand each other? A scoop like that would have the networks start a bidding war to hire her full time. Breslin grinnned. “Come on Elle, we have some snooping to do.”

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  • 4 years later...

Home

 

The Eternal Empire has fallen! The Sith Empire and Republic have returned to all out war. The Sith Lord Than’so Sciriato and his apprentice Rain joined the Eternal Alliance to fight Zakuul. Since the alliance's victory many have left the organization. But some warriors have no home to return to.

 

The now weakened remnants of the Eternal Alliance patrol wild space. In hopes of keeping the peace. Haunted by his past, Lord Sciriato knows something his comrades do not: Peace is a lie...

 

 

 

***

 

Lord Sciriato, dressed in black armor, waited in the darkness of the dropship. His beard was unkempt and he had tied his black curls in a ponytail. An elderly Miraluka, wearing plain brown robes strode up to him. “What was the score last time?” the man asked.

 

“Twenty seven to twenty six, by my count.”

 

The Miraluka narrowed his eyes. “They teach you how to count on Korriban? I had thirty.”

 

The Sith shook his head. “I thought Jedi were not allowed to lie, Gunthu.”

 

The man shrugged. “I don’t remember hearing that in the code.” The Sith grinned and picked up his helmet as the dropship descended.

 

“Speaking about truthfulness. I must confess, I heard the troops talking, they say that helmet looks ridiculous. Did you know everyone mocks you behind your back?” the Jedi asked.

 

“I’m glad you find it amusing, I’ll wear it to your funeral after you get shot in the head today,” the Sith responded.

 

The dropship’s door opened, revealing a frantic blaster fight in the valley below. The Eternal Alliance was holding the Northern side of the vale, but a droid army was marching them down. “How does it look?” the Miraluka asked.

 

Sciriato knew that the old man could see the entire field much more accurately through the force. “Dusty,” he shrugged.

 

Both force users jumped into the fray, green and blue fire exploding from their sabers. Their weapons weaved protective patterns that repelled and returned each deadly shot. The Miraluka reached out through the force and sent a droid flying into another. “Two!” he shouted. Lightning exploded from the Sith's fingertips, tearing through three other droids. “I hate when you do that,” the old Jedi whispered. “For the alliance!” a roar echoed behind the pair as the defenders rallied.

 

 

***

 

 

The dust was settling on the broken droids and fallen warriors. Lord Sciriato climbed back on the dropship. Muscles screaming at him as the adrenaline from the battle died away. He held his hand out for Gunthu and helped the man in. “How many did you count?” the old man asked between breaths.

 

“Twenty seven,” the Sith said as he sat down.

 

The Jedi whistled as he picked up a bottle of water. “Almost as much as me then,” he smirked.

 

The Sith grinned. “How many do you think we have total?” he asked.

 

The Jedi took a sip from his water and paused. “I am not even sure how many battles we’ve fought now.” The dropship closed its door and lifted back in the air. “To be honest, I am not even sure what planet we are on.”

 

 

The Sith let the cool air from the ship’s life support systems wash over him. “I never thought I would be fighting alongside Jedi.” Guntu paused and sat down.

 

“I fought alongside Sith against the Revanites.” Sciriato reached out his palm and a bottle of water flew into his hand. “I tolerated Jedi when we were fighting the Revanites. It was different. I hoped for their demise.”

 

 

----

 

 

The Sith entered his room aboard the Alliance’s warship. The door slit shut behind him. He started removing his armour, leaving a trail as he walked into the shower. The Sith washed the dirt, blood and oil off his skin and out of his hair. He glanced at his reflection, his skin revealed a scarred map of past battles. Several burns had healed poorly, leaving darkened discolourations. He closed his eyes and tried to relax, letting his thoughts drift.

 

As always, the memory of his troops’ betrayal on Hoth soon started pushing its way to the front of his mind. He would have died, if his battle armour had not taken the impact of the first few shots that threw him off the cliff. He had lusted for revenge as he lied in Hoth’s snow, his rage fueling his determination to survive. He remembered little of when the group of scavengers had found him.

 

They had seen him as another broken thing to scavenge, of course. They had patched up his wounds well enough to make him presentable at a slave market. The Sith had never found out if he had lost his lightsaber. Or if the scavengers had chosen to ignore the warning sign. In the end it did not matter, he had not needed the weapon to murder them all.

Edited by Mordresh
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Lord Sciriato marched unto the ship's warroom. A large holotable at the center of the room was projecting several planets. Captain Pearson stood alone in the room, overlooking the display. The two had served on the same ship before, though at the time, the woman had been a Republic spy. Now they both protected the Alliance. Pearson scowled as she saw the Sith enter, then returned her attention to the holotable.

 

"Captain," the Sith said in greeting as he marched upto the table. He clasped his hands behind his back.

 

"Lord Sciriato, we received some troubling news." Pearson looked up at him. The Lord's appearance still surprised her. When they had known each other in a past life, he had been a boy. Arrogant and powerful like most Sith youth, but a boy all the same. Now the Sith had the grizzled look of a veteran. "When you on your last mission, an attack destroyed one of our stations."

 

The Sith narrowed his eyes. "If not for the distress call on the ground, we would have been able to defend the station. But they would have to have known our location to begin with," he pointed out.

 

"Exactly, command suspects foul play." Pearson looked him in the eyes. "A spy," she added.

 

"You believe I am responsible," the Sith commented. "The thought had crossed my mind." The two eyed each other for a long moment. "I recall you having more expertise in spying than I, Captain."

 

Pearson clenched her jaw. "This is not the Empire, Sith. I outrank you here."

 

Sciriato fought down his anger. Who was this woman to talk to him like this? His funds had helped fuel the Alliance war effort. His blade had cut down countless of its enemies. He could kill her with a mere gesture. Perhaps he should. He could make an example of her. The Sith forced himself to take a deep breath. He was experienced enough to recognize the lure of the dark side. Disciplined enough to steel himself against it. The force was his to control, not the other way around. "Of course, Captain," he said. "What do you suggest we do?"

 

"We are tracking all communications, and started a lockdown. No one goes off the ship," Pearson said, seeming satisfied.

 

"So why are you telling me this, if you suspect me?" the Sith asked.

 

"Because, there is one more thing." The captain typed down on the holotable's controls and projected a distress signal. An image of his apprentice, Rain, stared back at him in panic.

 

---

 

The docking bay was alive with activity, several engineers were readying starfighters. Lord Sciriato was marching towards one of them. "Is this one fueled?" he demanded.

 

The engineer looked up at the Sith. "She's ready, if these rebels are planning another trick, we'll be ready." Sciriato nodded and moved past him. "You're just going to sit in there in case we get the word?"

 

"No, he is going to leave his post," Gunthu's calm voice interrupted. He walked towards the two. "Don't do this."

 

The Sith scowled at the Miraluka. "Are you going to stop me?"

 

The Jedi shrugged. "In a way. I know you care for your apprentice-"

 

"How long have you fought Sith that you still not understand us?" Lord Sciriato asked. "I don't care for her. I have a use for her. There is a difference."

 

The Miraluka shrugged. "Call it what you will, I have an offer." The Sith tilted his head, he knew he was losing precious time, but he found himself intrigued. "I will save your apprentice," the Jedi finally said.

 

"Why?" the Sith frowned.

 

"They will try to punish me, but that's fine. I am leaving the Alliance. You might not be aware but back in the core worlds, your kind is hunting us down." The Jedi paused. "I will save your apprentice, but in turn, I want you to stay in Wildspace, continue the work that we started. Defend the Alliance."

 

Lord Sciriato raised his eyebrows. "The Empire turned on me, the Alliance is the only home I have."

 

Gunthu took a deep breath. "Here is a second offer. Come with me. You can learn a new way, I have seen the good in you. We can continue fighting side by side."

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Lord Sciriato sat in the warship's meditation chamber, eyes closed as he submerged himself in the force. He had been reflecting on the Jedi's words ever since the man had left several hours ago. "I have seen the good in you." A simple phrase, meant well. But it revealed that their friendship had been a lie. The old man would always see the Sith as something wicked to fix. As if Gunthu had any right to judge him. He had offered the Jedi friendship and the alien had spat in his face. The Sith felt his anger burn inside him, ignited by the familiar sting of betrayal. His mind got flooded by memories of Hoth, the shots that had burned into him, falling...

 

Sciriato got up, he would not sit around and wait any longer for the Jedi to save his apprentice. He opened the chamber's doors and ran towards the docking bay. In his frantic fury, he did not realize how empty the bay was. No alarms triggered in his mind when he took his first steps to board a fighter. "Hold it right there," a voice interrupted him. Several troopers deactivated their stealth field generators around him. Blasters pointed at him. The cold winds of Hoth echoed in his mind.

 

Captain Pearson marched forward. "Lord Sciriato, you are under arrest for treason and attempting to breach our lockdown. Hand over your weapon."

 

The sting of betrayal bit him again. "Captain Pearson..." he said in confusion. She had set him up. Was there even a spy... was this all a trap to get him in a cell...

 

"Hand over your weapon, Sith!" she dared shout at him. This weak creature... The troopers readied their weapons. Hoth's snow storm grew louder in his mind. He saw Pearson smirk and then... her head jerked violently sideways. Her body fell limp to the floor.

 

He did not realise he had broken her neck until he saw his own fist extended in front of him. "Fire!" someone shouted and the Sith leaped through the air, landing behind the circle of troopers. His saber was ready this time as they turned and unloaded their blasters. There was no time to think, he was deep in the force as he became a whirlwind of destruction. Every shot returned as alliance troopers fell around him. He dove between the group, spinning and sending limbs flying. The last trooper was trying to crawl away and a burst of lightning caught the crippled soldier. His screams pierced through the Sith's murderous haze.

 

Lord Sciriato deactivated his saber and climbed into the starfighter. If the force had a voice it would be mocking him. The dark side had lured him into another confrontation and he had lost. "Foolish," he whispered. "Weak," he thought. The Sith steeled himself as he piloted the fighter out of the Alliance docks.

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The ship flew through space in an evasive corkscrew-pattern as blasterfire surrounded it. A squadron of Alliance fighters had tore into his shields only moments after he had escaped the hanger. Lord Sciriato glared at his dashboard as if he could power up the hyperdrive by sheer force of will. A series of beeps and whistles cut in over the intercom. "No, focus on the jump!" he barked. The astromech on his wing beeped dejectedly.

 

His shields finally gave out and the fighter started to shake. He could smell smoke coming from somewhere behind him. The astromech started shrieking. The Sith gripped his harness and strengthened himself for the end. The light of the stars started to elongate and the Sith smirked before a tunnel of light covered the canopy.

 

***

 

The Sith ran a diagnostic checks. "Now, you can repair," he said over the intercom. There was no reply. The Sith looked over his shoulder and realized his entire right wing got torn off. He looked back at the low power readings and sighed.

 

When the ship dropped from hyperspace he turned on the distress signal. Is this how he would finally die? Forgotten and lost in a corner of space. He would have preferred not making the jump to a slow death. He unhooked his lightsaber and put it on his lap. If it came to that, he could at least die by a blade. The Sith closed his eyes and tried to estimate how many hours he had left before power ran out, it would be less than two days.

 

He considered submerging himself into the dark side. He knew there were techniques to reach out to people through the force. But he decided against it. The dark side had won their last battle and he had completely lost control of his decisions. He could not help but wonder if this was the only time he had lost control. He knew that there were other times where his temper had flared at the smallest things. He had accepted these outbursts as a price to pay for power. But the dark side was nothing if not insidious. Had it been poisoning him in more subtle ways over the years?

 

The Sith looked at the stars. How easy had it become for him to take lives. How easy to poison them. He thought of his apprentice. How he had slaughtered her parents without even a moment of hesitation. How he had molded an innocent girl into a sadistic monster and never once stopped to question what he was doing. She would simply be another source of power to him, nothing more.

 

He looked at the battle hardened warrior in his reflection. The yellow eyes of a predator stared back at him. Was this everything he had aspired to be when he was a boy? He remembered wanting to protect the Sith Empire. To submit the Jedi through honorable swordsmanship. But he had turned on the Sith when he had judged them weak and now he had turned on the Alliance... for what? Feeling insulted? He stared out into space, choosing not to meditate.

 

***

 

The Sith opened his eyes as his ship started shaking. A blinding light washed over the cockpit and he realized that the ship was caught in a tractor beam. He wasn't sure how often he had drifted in and out of sleep, but he felt terrible. He had not eaten for a long time and his muscles screamed at him from being stuck in his chair for so long. Almost instinctively he started to use his pain to reach out to the force and rejuvenate his tired body. He stopped himself and grabbed his saber instead.

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The Sith felt the mind altering chemicals wearing off, lifting the veil between him and the force. He wasn't sure how long he had been in captivity. He remembered the tractor beam and fighting off Imperial troops. The Sith reached out and harnessed his rage, letting it burn the last of the serum out of his sytem. He looked around the torture room, not remembering any of the tools he saw. He looked up at the shackled holding his hands in place and drew on his rage again to break through them.

 

He massaged his wrists as he got up. Why had his guards missed dosing him? Was this a trap? Some sort of game? The Sith caught his reflection in a piece of metal. The side of his head had been shaved and there was a fresh scar running from his eyesocket to the side of his head. He judged it to be medical in nature as his captors had sown it shut. He clenched his jaw in anger and forced the door's room open with an aggressive hand gesture.

 

He took a deep breath as he walked into the corridor. He could not sense any guards close. But he could sense a strong concentration of dark side energy radiating from one of the rooms ahead. He did not consider escape, he needed to know what they had done to him. He needed to make them pay. He felt the force whirl around him like a maelstorm of fury.

 

Another gesture forced the door open. A cloaked figure tilted its head at him. "Lord Sciriato, you are finally awake," the figure's female voice remarked. The Sith noticed the lightsaber on the figure's belt and drew on the force to pull it into his grip. The weapon erupted with red fire as he rushed forward, dark energies crackling around him. The figure turned away from him. Lord Sciriato somehow felt his resolve wavering, his fury evaporating. His rush slowed into an approach. He deactivated the lightsaber. "Lord Sciriato, return my weapon, please." The Sith bowed his head. "Of course," he said, clipping the saberhilt back on the lord's belt.

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The Ithorian jedi groaned as he lowered himself down in his chair, leaning on his cane. He had transformed his quarters into an artificial garden. It made him feel more at home, despite being far below Manaan’s endless oceans. His giant black eyes blinked sluggishly as he watched one of his favourite plants. A serene feeling enveloped him and the old aches of his body seemed to fade away. He lifted his cane and put it down on his desk then closed his eyes.

 

“Is he still alive, my lord?” he heard a distant voice.

 

He heard the hissing sound of a lightsaber activating. “Not for long,” a voice retorted.

 

The Ithorian opened his eyes. The red fire of a Sith saber was pointing at his head. “I did not hear you come in,” the Ithorian said, but even his own voice sounded distant. Like recalling a memory inside of a dream.

 

Lord Sciriato’s yellow eyes narrowed. “Because you’ve grown weak.”

 

The Ithorian chuckled. “Perhaps,” he started to push himself up as he looked at the Imperial assassination squad. Seven rifles trailed his every move. “Those are a lot of weapons for one weak old man though.”

 

The Sith shrugged and lowered his weapon. “I haven’t had a good duel in over a month. I was hoping you would indulge me.” The Sith troopers lowered their weapons and spread out.

 

The Ithorian shrugged and hobbled towards his bed on the other side of the room. He picked up a green lightsaber and activated it, then took a deep breath. “I have few regrets,'' he said.

 

Lord Sciriato started a slow, deliberate advance. When the Jedi threw his saber. The Sith leaned sideways avoiding the spinning blade. “That was disappointing,” he mocked. Then he realised it was not aimed at him. The weapon flew into the wall, creating a growing crack as the pressure from the water pushed down.

 

The Sith dropped his own saber in a panic and pushed the palms of his hands forward. Pulling the darkness deep from within himself and willing the growing cracks together. "Capture the Jedi, let-"

 

"My lord," one of the troopers said.

 

The Sith turned his head to see the Jedi was gone. Only his robes remained. "Where the hell is he!?" the Sith barked, as the ceiling started to groan and break apart. The flood of water was sudden and lethal. It erupted from every angle as the Sith lost control and the entire room was swept up by its unstopable tide.

 

***

 

Lord Sciriato coughed up water and rolled over. His vision was blurry and he heard a loud ringing sound. The room around him was ruined but no longer flooded. He lost consciousness again.

 

***

 

Deep in the bowels of the Sith Sanctum, lord Sciriato opened his eyes. He hung suspended in a bacta tank. Several wires were attached to his body. A breathing mask was fixed on his face. But despite this his first thoughts were of drowning. The glass around him shattered violently as he drew on the force, and the flood of bacta carried him to the ground. He tore off his mask and gasped for air.

 

“Oh my,” a medical droid commented as it floated into the room. “Please sit still, my lord,” it instructed.

 

“Where am I?” the Sith groaned as he forced himself up.

 

A second figure ended the room, a disapproving look on her eyes. “Look at the damage you’ve caused,” she snapped. A massive burst of pressure exploded in the Sith Lord’s skull and he fell back down.

 

“Darth Daemora,” he whispered. The woman paused, then turned away, the intense headache faded. Lord Sciriato immediately reached for his head. He could feel the scar hidden underneath a mane of black hair.

 

Darth Daemora picked up a black robe from a locker and tossed it at him. “Is it operational?” the Darth asked.

 

Lord Sciriato frowned and looked at the droid. Daemora ignored him.

 

“The lord should be ready to resume his tasks,” the droid commented.

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Lord Sciriato sat in the back of the luxury sky-cab, eyes closed as he rubbed his temples. A holoscreen in the vehicle was playing the Dromund Kaas News, but he had muted the sound. “We will take a small detour, my lord,” the driver said. “There’s a triumph, some victory in wild space.”

 

The Sith opened his eyes and looked out the window then at the screen in front of him. “Very well,” he commented, shifting in his seat. He started pressing some buttons on the screen. “You’re a military man?” he asked after a while.

 

The driver glanced in the rear view mirror. “Yes, my lord.”

 

The Sith nodded. “How long have you served?”

 

The driver smiled. “Five years, my lord.”

 

The Sith turned the holoscreen off and looked back out the window. He shifted in his seat again. “Alliance?” he asked. The driver paused, his panic palpable in the force. The Sith made a fist in the air. The driver started grasping at his throat before his head jerked violently sideways.

 

The Sith climbed into the front, opening the door and tossing the driver out. He grabbed the wheel and glanced at the navigation screen. “Where were you taking me,” he whispered, considering whether to strike or retreat. Better to spring the trap than give his would-be assassins a chance to regroup, he decided.

 

***

 

The cab made its way down to the lower levels of Kaas city. With each level, the neighbourhoods got worse. Abandoned buildings and a thick cloud of noxious gas hung in the air. Lord Sciriato frowned in suspicion. How did his late driver not expect him to see through a “detour” like this?

 

The vehicle finally turned onto a platform and landed. Lord Sciriato glanced through the window. A decrepit building was the only thing the platform led to. He sighed and opened the door. “Alright, you caught me,” he said, holding up his hands. “You fooled me with a double gambit, now let’s see your strength.”

 

A figure dressed in dark robes marched out of the shadow and lord Sciriato froze. The man’s helmet was an old Revanite one, scratched and damaged,… it used to be his own. The cold winds of Hoth filled his mind, the first shots, his fall,...

 

The figure activated a red lightsaber and held it out in challenge. Lord Sciriato clenched his jaw and activated his own blade.

 

***

 

The two figures moved like cyclones around each other. Swats of red fire cut out and clashed in explosions of rage. The pair was deep in the force, disappearing into Juyo. The masked figure spun away, then ducked as a blow whistled over him. With his free hand he reached out through the force and sent Lord Sciriato flying back. The lord broke his fall into a roll then stood back up. Both were breathing heavily now.

 

Lord Sciriato reversed the grip on his saber, letting it parallel his forearm. He then took a second saber off his belt and activated it. His opponent held his own blade in a high guard. The pair stared at each other for what seemed like an eternity. Their presence in the force lashing at each other in anticipation.

 

The two finally launched at each other in a blur of speed. As the two flew past each other, their weapons lashed out. Both ended in a crouched position, it was unclear which strike had landed.

 

Both turned back to face each other. Lord Sciriato held one of his blades outstretched, arm trembling with exertion. The masked assassin’s heavy breaths were audible. He got up and glanced over his shoulder. Lord Sciriato tightened the grip on his saber. The assassin suddenly spun and punched forward his outstretched hand. A wave of dark energy sent the Sith lord flying back. When he looked up the assassin was gone.

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Lord Sciriato activated his lightsaber in the dark apartment. It seemed Haresh had not bothered to move after all this time. The red glow of the lightsaber illuminated the Sith’s path as he closed the door behind him. The apartment was small and utilitarian. The largest room was a training room, leading to a balcony. An empty armour stand stood in the center of the room. Lord Sciriato wiped a finger over it and noted the dust. He turned his attention to the saberstaff hilt it held and picked it up. He remembered the way his apprentice had tried to hide his enthusiasm when he was given the weapon. It seemed he had now discovered the weapon’s innate flaws and opted for a single blade instead. Lord Sciriato put the weapon back in its place and moved on. There was a computer in the bedroom.. He turned on the screen and frowned as the machine asked for a password. “Juyo,” he tried instinctively. “Two attempts remaining,” a mechanical voice said.

 

The Sith frowned, he glanced at the training room. “Saberstaff,” he tried again. “No wait-”

 

“One attempt remaining.”

 

“Jar’kai!” The computer flashed briefly then turned itself off. Lord Sciriato tried to turn it back on but felt an echo of danger through the force. The Sith Lord became a blur in his retreat from the apartment. He stopped in front of a figure on the balcony.

 

“Brother,” the pureblood woman said.

 

Than’so blinked. “Milica, this place is about to..” a miniscule explosion was audible behind him. It seemed the computer defense was only restricted to part of a single room. Milica raised her eyebrows.

 

***

 

Milica spun the saberstaff absent mindedly. “It has a good balance,” she said.

 

Than’so shrugged, a smile on his face. “I never picked up a saberstaff. Though very aggressive, I was always told it was a flawed weapon.”

 

Milica turned off the weapon. “Why limit yourself to others’ opinions?” She tossed the weapon at him.

 

Than’so caught it. “You sound like mom.”

 

Milica paused for a moment then took a sharp breath. “Mom’s gone,” she said, looking down.

 

Than’so tilted his head. “Gone where?”

 

Milica sat down next to him. “Shortly after the civil war, the Empire needed to gather funds. Darth Sartatru’s powerbase was purged and claimed.”

 

Than’so blinked slowly, feeling a dread overcome him. “I didn’t know,” he said. “What about our father?”

 

Milica shrugged. “He fled, maybe he’s dead. I don’t know.”

 

Than’so looked down, feeling the emptiness threaten to overtake him. “Where are you staying?” he asked.

 

Milica got up. “I move around several properties. Right now I live above a noodle shop in the lower levels.”

 

Than’so frowned. “This is all so bizarre, it does not feel real.” He had tears in his eyes now. A sensation he had not felt for a very long time.

 

Milica patted his shoulder. “It is late. Come stay with me for the night.” She then picked at his hair and squinted. “You’re going grey,” she said. Than’so scowled.

 

***

 

Than’so looked at the Shah-tehz board next to his bowl of blood noodle soup. He had made room for his Wrath to attack, hoping to snatch enough pieces to leave the Jen’ari piece undefended.

 

“So how do you know it’s your former apprentice that attacked you?” Milica asked, moving a Massassi piece to protect her first.

 

“I thought it was the alliance at first. But only he could have had my helmet. He must have picked it up when he tried to kill me on Hoth.” He moved his wrath to corner both minor pieces.

 

Milica brought out a Tuk’ata piece, threatening the Wrath.

 

Than’so frowned. “You have been practising,” he smirked.

 

“Shah-tehz is a much deeper game than it appears,” she commented. “So he was wearing a helmet. So you did not actually see his face,” she added.

 

Than’so moved his Wrath to the side, retreating without giving ground.

 

Milica immediately brought out her second Tuk’ata piece.

 

“What the heck,” Than’so muttered. “Nobody else could have had that helmet,” he said, leaning back. He frowned and decided to attack. He snatched a Massassi piece with his Wrath.

 

Milica took his Wrath with a Councillor. “You have to pay attention to all the pieces,” she commented.

 

Than’so glared at the board. Not only had he lost his most powerful piece, half his sister’s army was ready to press an attack. “I always hated this game,” he said. Milica grinned.

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Lord Sciriato wandered the halls of the Sith Sanctum. There were no windows and no way to navigate. He was completely lost. He finally reached the end of the hall. There were two staircases in front of him, one going down and the other up. He paused and considered. He decided it might be easier to find the exit if he went up rather than deeper down. He picked up the pace and kept climbing, he stopped when he heard the sound of strong winds. He held out his hands and snow started falling. The Sith turned around and ran down. The stairs seemed to be endless and the wind chased him, finally he tripped and fell. When he finally stopped tumbling and looked up, he saw a misted bacta tank. The Sith got up and squinted his eyes, something was inside. He started rubbing the tank but could not make out what was inside. Finally he started punching the glass until it shattered. A limbless form broke free from several tubes as it was swept from the tank. Lord Sciriato knelt and turned the creature around, seeing his own face stare back at him.

 

***

 

Than’so woke up with a groan. He looked around trying to orientate himself.

 

“You don’t look good,” his sister said.

 

The Sith realised he was in his sister’s apartment, above the noodle shop. “There was something wrong with that soup,” he muttered.

 

Milica raised an eyebrow. “You’re just used to military rations, not real food.”

 

Than’so pushed himself up and closed his eyes. He started drawing on the force and imagined a flame moving through his body. He focused on each part of his body, burning out the weakness in his system. When he opened his eyes again he was feeling a lot better.

 

***

 

Milica and Than’so were sitting in a run down building. A circle was drawn on the floor in which a Houk towered over a Trandoshan. “My Houk, Ardat, is strong but Kharvaagh is a vicious thing,” Milica said. Than’so watched in interest as the Trandoshan sidestepped a punch and swiped his claw at the Houk. He was a little disappointed in the fight, but hid it. The Houk swung again, the Trandoshan ducked but caught a knee, flying out of the ring. “Ardat undefeated!” the Houk exclaimed, then laughed, both hands on his big gut. The Trandoshan glared and got up.

 

“If I win some credits I am planning to bid on a Besalisk,” Milica said, getting up.

 

Than’so frowned, he thought she would be better off buying a coach for her current fighters, but kept it to himself. “I never knew you were such an entrepreneur,” he commented.

 

Milica shrugged as she led her brother to a small medical room. “It's by necessity,” she commented. “Besides, I love it, it’s like a microcosm of the Sith Philosophy. The top fighters can earn their freedom, you know.” Than’so nodded. “Ok, now sit down,” she instructed. A medical droid activated itself and took two steps toward the Sith. Than’so tilted his head in confusion.

 

“You told me last night, your master put something in your head. M-V11 will help us figure out what it is, and how we can remove it.” The droid started scanning the Sith’s head.

 

“Hold still please,” it said. A barely visible green light emitted from a device in its hand.

 

Milica glanced at it and raised her eyebrows. “Curious. It seems that whatever is in your head, is alive,” the droid finally said.

 

The Sith glared.

 

“How do we get it out?” Milica asked.

 

The droid paused as it ran calculations and Than’so realised how worn down it looked. How far their family had fallen. “Milica,” he said. His sister glanced at him. “I am sorry,” he said softly.

 

Milica shrugged. “We’ll get you fixed up, you go play loyal in the meanwhile.”

 

Than’so nodded and got up. “Thank you for helping me,” he said.

 

Milica smiled.

 

***

 

Much later in the day, Milica hunched down next to her secured lockbox, tapping in the passcode. It had been some time since her brother had left. She had observed the conflict in her heart. She found it curious they were there, after all this time apart. She opened the lockbox door and picked up a small holo-image of her mom. A flood of pain and anger entered her heart. She could still see her mother's death every time she closed her eyes. Their family turned into a target as her brother was labelled a traitor to the Empire. She put the image back then picked up the scratched Revanite helmet from the lockbox and glared at it.

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The Dashade placed the severed head in front of his master, then sat down on his knees. The meditation room was covered in the cold aura of the dark side. Such things were tolerated in the Alliance, where both Sith and Jedi worked together.

 

The old Sith smirked. “Is there any foe that you cannot defeat, my old friend?” the man spoke.

 

The lumbering alien shrugged. “Have not met one yet.”

 

The old Sith raised his eyebrows. “Then perhaps I have a challenge for you. An alliance traitor, he turned on his commander and killed two squads in his escape.”

 

The dashade’s hideous face contorted in what might have been a smile. “Give a name and he will be extinct.”

 

The old Sith checked a datapad by his side. “His name is-”

 

***

 

“Lord Sciriato, a pleasure to meet you,” the Imperial cyborg said, bowing low. The Sith glanced at him, but did not halt his march down the Sith Sanctum. The cyborg quickly jogged next to the Lord. “I am Watcher Mentell-”

 

The Sith glanced at him. “Yeah?” he said.

 

“Ehm, Darth Daemora may have mentioned me, I am to be your new handler.”

 

The Sith finally stopped. “My what?”

 

The agent felt the colour drain from his face. “Your handler..I am to help you achieve optim-” the Sith stormed off and into Darth Daemora’s laboratory.

 

“Lord Sciriato,” the Darth said unimpressed. “I see Watcher mentell found you.”

 

Watcher Mentell blinked as he took in the room. Various sized tubes across the walls held creatures in stasis. A large bloodied table sat next to the Darth.

 

The Imperial fell to his knees. “My lord,” he said in awe. “It will be an honour to serve your apprentice.”

 

Darth Daemora smiled. “Watcher Mentell is to track you from now on.”

 

Lord Sciriato glared at the kneeling man. “I don’t need a babysitter,” he snarled.

 

“Lord Sciriato, kill him,” Darth Daemora suddenly commanded.

 

The Sith had his lightsaber in his hand and tried to strike immediately. He fell to his knees in anguish as the immense pressure built behind his eyes.

 

Darth Daemora smiled. “You see, you seem to think you have a choice. Fortunately I took your choices away from you. You could no more hurt those that serve me than you could hurt me.” She glared and the Sith’s head felt like it was about to explode.

 

“Watcher Mentell, you called the lord my apprentice earlier. Let me assure you that he is nothing of the sort. Lord Sciriato will learn nothing from me, except how wrong he was to betray the Empire.”

 

Lord Sciriato tried to push himself up. “Kill you-” he snarled.

 

Darth Daemora looked surprised for a brief instant then kicked the Sith back down. “If only you were still strong enough. No, I can feel the Dark Side has waned in you. Your prime has passed. You are not the Sith you once were.” She took a step back, but did not take her eyes off him.

 

“Lord Sciriato is no different than a Tuk’ata, instructed to kill our enemies until he perishes.” She smiled and turned away. “Do you know how many Imperial lives were lost in your last failure? I won’t send a single troop more to back you up so you may toss their life away. You will be monitored and assisted from a distance. And the day that you fall, which can’t come soon enough, all that will remain of you will be a report that I relish to read. Now get out of my sight, both of you.”

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Ardat’s face was battered as a second Houk carried the massive brute over his head. “Kill him!” the crowd snarled, eager to see some bloodshed. Milica clenched her fists as she watched the disastrous fight. She could see a cartel agent smirk at her from the corner of her eye. She had bet big on her fighter and she was about to lose big.

 

Then a miracle happened. Ardat’s opponent's knee started to wobble and the alien fell. Ardat landed on the other Houk’s head, crushing the skull. Milica blinked several times as the crowd watched silently in disbelief.

 

“It’s all over, folks!” an announcer screamed over the speakers. “Ardat wins!”

 

The Houk was crawling up in confusion, then as he realised that his opponent was dead, he lifted his fists in the air. “Ardat undefeated!” he bellowed, then flexed his arms. The crowd went nuts.

 

***

 

Than’so propped his fist against his forehead as he sat at a table in the lower level noodle shop.

 

“You know,” Watcher Mentell finally gathered up the nerve to start. The Sith glared at him. “Darth Daemora might say I am only here to write reports on you. But that’s not how I see it.”

 

“How do you see it?” Lord Sciriato spat.

 

“I am here to make sure you are at peak combat efficiency,” the watcher said.

 

“What can you possibly know about Sith combat?” the Sith said before taking a spoonful of his soup.

 

“Well for starters, my files tell me you are an expert at Juyo.” The Sith continued to eat. "Form Seven. The ferocity... form," the agent tried. "I read form seven makes form five look like form three."

 

Lord Sciriato blinked slowly. "What?" he asked.

 

“Uh, nevermind, my lord. The point is, I am certain that I can make a positive contribution to your skills. Lord Sciriato’s eyes had wandered to the door, where his sister hobbled in. She was steadying herself against the wall. Than’so frowned and got up.

 

Milica didn’t notice her brother until he was next to her. “What happened?” he asked in concern.

 

Milica grinned. “Ardat won.”

 

Than’so frowned. “Are you alright?” he asked. “Better than ever,” she shrugged.

 

It was then that Than’so realised his little sister was drunk. He grinned. “Ok,” he said. “Let’s get you home.”

 

Milica shook her head. “Hell no. I want to fight.”

 

Than’so nodded and glanced at Watcher Mentell. The agent was looking down at his datapad. “Let’s get out of here,” the Sith agreed.

 

***

 

Than’so spun the training staff around him. His sister held a single electroblade training sword. They were standing in the circle of Milica’s decrepit gym.

 

“This is hardly fair,” Than’so said. “You can barely walk straight.“

 

Milica shrugged. “Then you might have a chance.”

 

She sped forward, but almost tripped over her feet in a clumsy advance. Than’so batted her weapon down with one side of the staff and tapped the back of her head with the other. Milica stumbled out of the circle.

 

“You lose,” Than’so grinned.

 

Milica spun and swung her saber. Than’so redirected the blow with a twirl of his saber, then swiped the side of Milica’s foot with his own. Milica tumbled down and grinned.

 

“LS-10 should be here, like when we were kids. We can watch one of the hunter movies!” she exclaimed.

 

“Where is the little drone?” Than’so asked.

 

Milica got up. “Ardat punched him and I haven’t had a chance to repair him.”

 

“I can take a look,” Than’so suggested.

 

Milica nodded and ran to her office. Than’so smiled. He had missed nice moments like this.

 

***

 

Milica rummaged through the lockbox, shoveling out junk to find the little drone.

 

“Milica…” Than’so said.

 

She glanced at the pile of stuff behind her and her blood ran cold. She spotted the scratched Revanite helmet. “I did not know you would follow,” she said.

 

Milica closed her eyes, gathering the force within her. She imagined the fire burning through her body, destroying the alcohol. “What done is done,” she said collectedly.

 

“What is this? Why do you have Haresh's helmet?” Than’so demanded.

 

“Haresh wasn’t the one after you. I killed Haresh for what he did to our family.” Milica opened her eyes. “And now I will kill you.”

 

Than’so shook his head in confusion.

 

Milica threw forward a clawed hand and lightning burst from her fingertips. The storm tore through the room. Lord Sciriato dashed out of the way in the nick of time. Milica pursued, bringing her electroblade down in a barrage of blows. Than’so spun his staff deflecting the attack, trying to gather his thoughts. Their blades locked.

 

“Why?” Than’so asked. Milica loosened one hand off her grip and lashed out with her index and middle finger. Than’so’s eye exploded in his eyesocket and he fell back in pain, confusion and fear.

 

His screams caused a tidal wave in the force that sent Milica flying backwards through the room. “My lord!” a voice cried, as Watcher Mentel appeared. He took a few shots at Milica then dragged Lord Sciriato out of the building.

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Lord Sciriato stood on the cliff, his men behind him, Haresh by his side. The freezing winds of Hoth echoed in his ears. Haresh shouted something but he couldn’t make it out over the wind. He turned around, Milica smiled at him. The saber activated in his gut. He fell, forever.

 

The Sith startled awake with a scream. He was soaked in his own sweat. He got up out of bed and stumbled toward the medbay. He caught his reflection in the cabinet. His eye socket had been encased in metal. The lens shutter opened in a circle, revealing the crimson eye below. He opened the cabinet and took out a bottle of painkillers. He took a handful and sat down on the floor. He closed his eyes.

 

“My lord are you alright?” he heard Watcher Mentell ask as the agent rushed to his side. “Let’s get you back to bed. He let the watcher help him up and guide him back. “Once you are at full strength, we can hunt the Sith woman that did this to you.” His pills were kicking in and he felt like he was floating back to his bed. He pushed the agent away. The watcher frowned. “Who is this woman to you?” he finally gathered up the nerve to ask. “Milica, my sister,” the Sith slurred. Watcher Mentell nodded slowly. “Why did she do this to you?”

 

The Sith scowled at the floor. “I destroyed our house.” The agent then understood. His betrayal had marked his family as targets. The agent cleared his throat. “My lord, I never asked. Why did you do it? Why did you turn on the Empire?” The Sith glared at the agent.

 

“I led troops for Darth Decarian. He died when his dreadnaught crashed. I had different Darths demand my support against the others. I would not attack other Imperials. So they decided to attack me... had my men turn on me.” Watcher Mentell tried to hide his surprise. He had expected the Sith to have betrayed the Empire in his own grab for power, like so many others. The agent was aware that during the power struggle, his own survival was pure luck. Many loyal imperials serving under losing lords were purged. He helped the Sith into bed. “Rest now,” he said.

 

***

 

Watcher Mentell frowned as he put the bottle of painkillers back. The Sith was worrying him. The man clearly exhibited Post Traumatic Stress symptoms. It seemed even Sith were still mortal.

 

The agent sighed deeply and returned to his own room. He knelt in front of the ancient armour and lightsaber he had assembled as a shrine. He picked up a cleaning rag and dusted the lightsaber. Toying with the idea of activating the weapon. Just to see what it felt like. But he dismissed the idea. He knew that he was not worthy. Force sensitivity had died out in his bloodline hundreds of years ago. Lord Mentell who’s armour and weaponry he cleaned every day was all that remained.

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The three training drones hovered around Lord Sciriato. He spun his saberstaff in wide arcs to deflect their blaster fire. The weapon was much larger than he was used to, but he had found to enjoy its unmatched speed and reach. He heard the training room door open behind him and caught Watcher Mentell out of the corner of his eye. The Sith relaxed his grip then returned each new bolt to the drones in rapid succession. The drones fell down to the floor and the Sith turned on his heel.

 

“My lord,” the agent said, bowing. “You seem to be doing much better.”

 

Lord Sciriato nodded and took a drink from his water bottle.

 

“If I had known, I would have recommended you join the mission to take care of your sister?”

 

Lord Sciriato tilted his head. “What?” he asked.

 

“Darth Daemora had some creatures to test, so we sent a squad-”

 

The Sith made a fist and the agent slammed into the ceiling. “Where are they?!” the Sith barked.

 

The agent groaned. “The implant.. you can’t.”

 

The Sith glanced at his fist, he did not feel pain… the implant was broken. He stormed out of the room.

 

***

 

Milica leaned forward as she watched her Besalisk slave. The alien threw a punch at Ardat, while simultaneously lifting Kharvaagh by the neck. With this new pit fighter, she would be ready to breach the next level. Ardat stumbled back and charged ferociously. The Besalisk actually pummeled him with Kharvaagh.

 

Milica grinned and got up. “Okay, that’s-” a blaster shot echoed in the training room and the Besalisk looked down at the burning hole in his gut. He blinked several times before falling to the floor. “Ardat... undefeated?” the Houk said in confusion.

 

A squad of Imperial troopers rushed in, dropping in a formation. Milica’s saber sprung into her hand as she jumped in front of her fighters. She danced between blaster bolts, weaving patterns back at the troopers.

 

“Ardat, get Kharvaagh out of here!” she spat through clenched teeth. She leapt forward, closing the gap between her and the troopers, severing limbs all around her. She spotted several troopers force three abominable looking beasts in. The creatures were secured by poles with nooses around their necks. They resembled giant akk-dogs with spikes all over their skins. The troopers started to release the beast, one of them jumped at their own captor but the other two ran at Milica.

 

“Ok,” she said calmly. As the first beast lunged at her, she dove under and struck at its belly. Her lightsaber barely made a scratch. She spun as she got to her feet, deflecting a claw swiping at her head. The force of the blow made her stagger back. The momentary lapse gave the other beast an opening to charge her. Milica lost the grip on her lightsaber as the beast closed its mouth around her leg, . It started shaking her violently. She reached out for her saber and the second beast almost snatched her arm. The third beast had finished with the troopers and was joining in now. Snapping at her as her body hung from the first’s mouth.

 

She closed her eyes and gathered the force to protect herself as teeth tore into her leg. A load crashing sound made her open her eyes again, and the beast loosened its grip. Crashing through the window was an air cab. The vehicle flew right into the beast, crushing it into a wall. A Sith lept from the vehicle, crimson saber in hand. Milica crawled up and the figure glanced at her. One eye replaced by a hideous red lens. Milica sighed and held out her hand, her lightsaber flew into her grip.

 

“Is this how our house finally dies, brother?” she asked.

 

The other Sith shook his head. “No, this is how we rise again,” he said, turning towards the abominations.

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Lord Sciriato dashed between the two mutated akk-dogs. Saberstaff brushing against both’s skin. The pair swatted at him, hitting each other as the Sith dove on the floor.

 

Milica walked towards the beasts that were now agitated with one another. Their jaws snapped at each other, oblivious to the danger her and her brother posed. She sighed and raised her hand. The broken air cab shuffled on the ground, then launched into one of the beasts as she clenched her fist. The beast was caught unaware as the machine crushed its ribs and organs.

 

The last monster turned at Milica, who held her lightsaber in a defensive position. As the beast started its charge, the woman saw her brother launch himself through the air. Saberstaff spinning before pinning into the beat’s neck, between its spikes. The dog let out a sharp hiss of pain before slumping down.

 

Lord Sciriato hopped off the dead animal and eyed Milica. The Sith woman was still holding her saber in a defensive position. Her brother turned his saber off. “We can talk when I get back,” he said. Milica frowned, not lowering her guard. “Where are you going?” she asked. Lord Sciriato turned and started walking out. “To kill Darth Daemora.”

 

***

 

Lord Sciriato piloted the half broken aircab through the city traffic. His mind was racing. With the thing in his brain no longer restricting him he could leave. But he wanted to make the other Sith pay for what she did to him. By now he imagined Mentell had informed the Darth of his malfunctioning implant. Surprise could still be on his side if he struck fast enough. He felt a tremor in the voice warning him. The Sith looked to his left and saw a giant creature on a speeder bike drop its speed and pull behind him. The Sith turned his wheel but was too late as two green energy bolts hit his vehicle.

 

The air cab’s dashboard died out as the vehicle spiralled into a nosedive. The Sith activated his saber and cut himself free, then launched himself out of the vehicle. He dove into a roll on a platform and waited for the speeder to pull up. The giant creature did so calmly. He took off his helmet, revealing a mouth like a lamprey.

 

“Who are you supposed to be?” Lord Sciriato asked. The creature put his helmet down and rolled his shoulders.

 

“Kos Tera. After I kill you I will enjoy consuming your flesh, little Sith.” Lord Sciriato sighed and activated his lightsaber. The Dashade finally dashed towards him.

 

“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” the Sith said, raising a clawed hand. A storm of lightning crackled from his fingertips. To his surprise the Dashade did not even seem phased.

 

The beast rammed its shoulder into the Sith, knocking the wind out of him.

 

The Sith tried to manoeuvre his lightsaber but the alien was too close to him. A strong grip held his hilt in check while a fist found the Sith’s liver.

 

Lord Sciriato collapsed and the Dashade tore the saber from his grip. He tossed it off the side of the platform, into the night below.

 

Lord Sciriato was crawling to his feet when the Dashade started to pummel his face. He kicked the Sith over then pushed his foot down on the warrior’s chest. “Weak thing,” the alien mocked.

 

Suddenly a dropship’s spotlights activated on the platform. The Dashade turned towards it, covering his small eyes with his hand. Imperial troopers started to lower themselves on the platform. The Dashade grunted. “Soon,” he said, jogging back to his speeder bike as the first blaster bolts shot after him. The Sith was crawling up when agent Mentell kneeled next to him. “My lord, I wish you’d stay out of trouble for just one night,” he commented.

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Watcher Mentell entered the sanctum with a short bow. “My lord,” he said, before putting down a device. “This will ensure our privacy,” he explained. Lord Sciriato glanced over his shoulder. “How is your new weapon coming along?” the agent asked. As if on cue, the magnetic furnace opened. Steam escaped from the inside and Lord Sciriato picked up his new crimson crystal.

 

“I took inspiration from the Zakuul design, the Sith said, putting the crystal into the long handle. He activated the blade at the top.

 

Watcher Mentell bowed his head. “This would have to do with the Dashade you fought?” the agent asked.

 

“Is that what his species is called?” the Sith shrugged, then dropped the tip of the weapon and kicked the socket, launching it back up. The saber slid towards the watcher then stopped as the Sith tightened his grip. “The long shaft makes distance management far easier,” lord Sciriato commented. His predatory eyes sizing up the agent. “Why did you not tell Daemora that my implant no longer worked?” the Sith asked, weapon less than an inch away from the watcher.

 

Watcher Mentell looked down. “I want to see who’s stronger,” he said cautiously.

 

Lord Sciriato smirked and retreated his weapon. “I’ll show you right now,” he said.

 

“My lord, wait-” the agent interjected. “I have an offer for you to consider.”

 

The Sith tilted his head.

 

***

 

Milica finished screwing in the new balance stabilizerin the little probe droid. “Elles,” she said. LS-10 chirped and floated up while spinning excitedly. “Looks like that did it,” the Sith said with a smile. The handed down remote beeped several times. “Yes, Than’so was here,” Milica said. The remote beeped quizzically. “It's a long story, you were out for a few weeks.” The droid beeped angrily. “Ok, you’ll get your shot at Ardat. But first I have a mission for you.”

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Lord Sciriato held his lightsaber pike in a low guard as four remote droids advanced on him. He thrust his weapon forward in quick efficient movements to keep them at a distance. One dashed upward to avoid the strike and the Sith switched to a high guard. He spun his weapon in a blur, hitting the droid with the back of the shaft, sending the little remote reeling into a wall. The three remaining remotes advanced quickly. Lord Sciriato did a side flip to create distance. He gestured, reaching out through the force to fling the broken remote into a working one.

 

The Sith paused briefly when he heard a grate falling out of the wall above him. The two remotes advanced again. The Sith jumped into a spinning back kick, one remote flew into the last one and the Sith looked up. A fifth remote had entered his training room. “What the heck?” Lord Sciriato said. The remote beeped and whirled. “Elles,” the Sith smirked, turning off his saber.

 

***

 

The two Sith exited their respective skycabs. LS-10 chirped and floated towards Milica. Than’so noted the lightsaber hanging on Milica’s belt. He held the shaft of his lightsaber pike in one hand. “You lug that thing around with you everywhere you go?” Milica mocked, raising her eyebrow. “Are you going to become a Zakuul knight n-”

 

“I got your message,” Than’so cut her off, as he walked out onto the rainy platform. A flash of lightning illuminated the red cybernetic eye from underneath his hood.

 

Milica’s mouth formed a thin line. “Did you kill Daemora?” Milica asked.

 

Than’so shook his head.

 

“Why not?” she demanded.

 

Her brother shrugged, casually spinning his staff in one hand. “I got a better offer.”

 

Milica narrowed her eyes. “What offer?”

 

The Sith ignored her question and brought his weapon to a halt.

 

Milica turned around and reached into the skycab. She took out the scratched Revanite helmet and tossed it to her brother. Than’so used to force to guide the helmet into his waiting grasp, not taking his eyes off his sister. He felt the cold thickness of the dark side surrounding the helmet. A remnant in the force of all who had worn it, including himself. The winds of Hoth echoed in the back of his head.

 

“What, another trick? Did you put a thermal detonator in here?” he snarled.

 

“A peace offering. I am offering a truce,” Milica said.

 

“You took my eye!” the other Sith barked. It became harder to focus, the dark side was clawing into his heart and he did not want it to stop. He put on his helmet. The visor’s filters made the falling raindrops look like snowflakes.

 

Thunder echoed in the sky. Milica’s posture changed, her hand hovering close to her weapon. “You destroyed our family,” she said venomously. “Your eye was a small cost.”

 

Than’so lowered his weapon in a low guard, crimson fire exploded from the tip. Milica reluctantly activated her saber. “I thought you were open to reason. Why did you even save me?”

 

The other Sith had no answer. His heavy breathing was audible through his mask’s modulator. He blinked several times, not even seeing Dromund Kaas anymore. Not Milica. He saw Haresh. He saw an army of trooper staring down at him from their barrels. He charged.

 

***

 

The two Sith cut the night into crimson fire. A lone remote droid beeped in a panic. Rushing and twirling, doing its best to neutralize some of the blows. It was programmed to protect both Sciriato heirs. The fire cut clean through the droid and two half orbs fell into the night.

 

Lightning struck one of the rods on top of a nearby building, illuminating the dark figures. Milica slipped past her brother’s guard. The back of her saber caught his head, disorienting him. Milica spun away then reversed her grip, aiming to cut the Sith in half. Her brother was too quick and launched into a side flip. He immediately advanced back with short efficient thrusts aimed at Milica’s legs. Milica spun her saber low to deflect the low blows.

 

Finally the Sith feinted low then spun his weapon high instead. His sister, conditioned to block low, caught the back of the handle in her temple and fell down. Her weapon went rolling down the platform. Lord Sciriato jumped and brought his saber down. Milica rolled out of the way. She raised a clawed hand, her lightning tore through her overconfident brother. Lord Sciriato's weapon slipped from his grip as he screamed. He used the pain, gathered it in him, then lashed out. He threw his hand forward, catching Milica in the force. He slowly started to make a fist, crushing her organs, but his sister had not halted her storm.

 

The two siblings were tearing each other apart until finally both fell. “I hate you!” Milica finally screeched, getting up. She started to kick her brother, who was still lying on the ground. Blood was falling down her lips and nostrils. She closed her hands around Lord Sciriato’s throat. The other Sith gathered what little strength he had to bat at her arms. Everything was going dark around him. Sounds became more distant. He screamed an ear piercing scream, refusing to let himself submerge into the final dark. Milica covered her ears and fell sideways.

 

Lord Sciriato struggled to his feet. Milica panted, then pushed herself up. Their punches were slow and sloppy now. But they were too tired to block or dodge each other. Milica grabbed her brother by the back of the head, then pulled him down into her rising knee. Lord Sciriato kicked out her leg from under her, causing them both to fall. “I hate you,” Milica said through tears. Than’so adjusted his helmet and caught a figure at the edge of his peripheral.

 

The hulking figure landed a speeder bike on the platform and dismount. “Milica,” Than’so said between gasps for air. “I’ve reconsidered your truce.” He took the helmet off and tossed it to the side.

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Kos Teral rolled his shoulders as he eyed the pair of Sith. “This will be a good meal,” the dashade said, cracking his knuckles.

 

Milica rolled to her side and spit up a chunk of blood. “Friend of yours?” she asked, pushing herself up.

 

Than’so was wobbling, he pulled his lightsaber pike into his grasp. “More of an acquaintance,” he said, using the staff to stabilize himself.

 

Milica pulled herself up on her brother’s shoulder. She held out her hand and her weapon returned to it. “What’s the play?” she asked.

 

“This thing is resistant to the force.”

 

Milica pushed herself off, blood dripping down her chin. “Is it immune to a skycab,” she retorted, reaching a clawed hand over her shoulder. She screamed in exertion as she slammed her fist forward, the skycab launched through the air. The effort made her fall on her knees. “Did I get him?” she asked.

 

The dashade had rolled out of the vehicle’s path and brushed himself off. “This red thing is smarter than you,” he pointed out.

 

“Better looking too,” Milica mocked.

 

“Gather your strength, I’ll hold him off for as long as I can,” Than’so whispered, activating his weapon.

 

Milica slumped back and slowed down her breathing. She dove into the force, using her pain to gather strength.

 

Than’so activated his saber, still using it to balance himself. The dashade dashed forwards. The Sith spun his saber pike, stumbling backwards as he tried to maintain a distance. He started moving in a circle away from Milica as he flicked small thrusts at the alien’s legs.

 

“Do you think I’ve never fought a knight before? Do you know how many Zakuul I’ve slain that wielded one of these?” he mocked, casually dodging the weapon as he advanced. He raised his leg out of the way of one of the thrusts, then tried to stomp down on the hilt.

 

Than’so retreated the weapon, barely missing the alien’s foot. “I’m no knight,” he said.

 

The dashade’s face contorted in what might have been a smile. He tapped his vambraces and a round energy shield appeared to cover his arm. He took a short vibrosword off his belt. “Maybe not,” he agreed. “I have not had to use these in a while. You should feel honoured.” Than’so raised his weapon in a salute. The alien started advancing again, this time blocking the low thrusts with his shield. He kept trying to deflect the weapon out of his way ,so he could pass the Sith’s guard. Lord Sciriato would pull his weapon back too fast each time. Than’so could not feel the dashade’s emotions in the force, but it was obvious the creature was getting angry. “Fight me!” he barked.

 

The Sith smiled. “I thought I was.” He spun away from a frustrated charge, considering a trip, but the alien’s legs were too massive to take out that way.

 

Finally the Dashade snarled and threw his vibrosword at the Sith. Lord Sciriato batted it out of the way instinctively, opening himself up. The beast was on him now, slamming him into the ground with his full weight. Than’so gasped for air, and held up his hands to block the brutal onslaught of blows raining on him. The monster grabbed his throat and started squeezing then let go with a cry of pain.

 

Milica casually twirled her saber as the Dashade crawled backwards. The monster's back had been burned open. Milica’s saber made gashes on the platform, flicking molten sparks at the alien. She grinned predatorily as the alien kept crawling back. “Curious, I can’t feel you at all in the force,” she said, tilting her head.

 

The alien reached the end of the platform. “Red witch, you attack me without honour.”

 

Lord Sciriato pushed himself up one last time. He stumbled to his sister, leaning heavily on her shoulder. He held out his hand. Milica gave him her sabre. “I told you I wasn’t a knight,” he spat, then ended the alien with a flick of his wrist. The siblings were propping each other up as they made their way to the remaining skycab.

 

***

 

Than’so stared blankly at his bowl of blood soup. Milica had her eyes closed as she leaned back on her chair. Her feet outstretched on a second one and a damp, bloody rag on her head. Their outfits were mired in cuts and grazes. Their bodies bruised and battered. Two halves of LS-10 lay next to each other on the table. The two Sith had started patching up the little remote, but were to exhausted. The noodle shop door opened and Liracen walked in. The small smile on her face was quickly overtaken by worry as she saw her younger half siblings. She rushed to their sides. “Milica what happened to y- Elles-... Than, what happened to your eye!?”

 

Than’so blinked, the shutters on his red cyborg eye shutting and opening slowly. “Oh,” he said, looking at Milica who was grimacing. “I forgot I had a straw in my bowl.” Liracen blinked several times.

 

“It’s ok,” Milica said coolly. “Everything is settled.” She took the rag of her head, crusted blood covered the lower half of her face. “Do you want some soup?”

 

***

 

The siblings limped through the jungle. Than’so using his sabre pike as a walking stick. Their faces were swollen and bodies still broken but slowly healing. “Just past here,” Milica said. They followed a small stream to a spring in the hills. There was a small clearing with some flowers growing. Milica slumped to her knees. Than’so followed, taking a tired breath. His eyes turned red and puffy. “After the attack, I managed to retrieve mom’s body. I thought she would think this spot was nice.” Than’so put his hand on the ground, not sure what he was expecting. It just felt like wet dirt. He felt empty. He still had trouble processing that he would never see their mom again. Whenever he would stop moving, fighting, these realisations would creep up on him. Milica leaned against him and he put his arm around his younger sister. The soft stream was the only sound in the small clearing.

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