Kaas City

Cag chuckled at the male's words. So the man had secrets, and didn't want to share them. That wasn't even uncommon, most everybody had secrets. He himself had several secrets as well, but his where not all that important and nobody would go to great lengths to figure them out. Well....maube one female would but she wasn't here at the moment.

"Perhaps that is so in your culture. In my culture though, scent is an important part of daily life. It tells me a lot about a person, their habits, their recent travels even. I could tell you when most females are about to ovulate and are ready to have babies, as well as many other things. All simply through their scent. So I beg your pardon, when I speak about your scent. Its just genetic and in my nature to do so."

As he spoke, his fingers and hands deftly worked the controls of his craft, powering it up. As the engines warmed up, he depressed a comm button and received his clearance to leave the planet. As he blasted away from the planet, heading for orbit he glanced back at the man. "There we go, headed away Dromund Kaas." He chuckled and shrugged. "No big deal at all."

Back in the craft, a corellian sand panther known as Neena knew her companion was back on board. Standing up from his bed (a place she knew she wasn't suppose to be), she stretched languishly then jumped down from the bed and left the room. Moving through the hallways, she paused and lowered her head to sniffed st several droplets of water. Her hair instantly stood on end, her tail stopping it gentle swaying side from side and went straight. She growled softly, and began to follow the water droplets until the she reached a small ventilation shaft. She sat before the vent, whining and scratching at it softly, using her poisonous claws to try and removed the grate.

Two froze when she heard the screaming howl. She blinked her eyes slowly, falling silent as she contemplated. She looked around, trying to find some way to escape but all the shafts around her where to small even for her small lithe frame to wriggle in to and through. She was cornered, by whatever aggressive beast was outside her sleeping place. Maybe if she held still and quiet long enough whatever it was would loose interest and go away....

Cag walked up beside the male and patted his shoulder. "Glad to here, friend. To be honest I don't care if you thought bad of me. No offense meant, I'm just one of those people who doesn't care what other think. I'm happy who I am and that's all. Though I do appreciate that I can carry a passenger that is so open minded. Please, feel free to wander the ship and look around. The Panthera has several exception things such as a meditation chamber that also is like a greenhouse with many living planets, though coming from where you do you may not like that. There is also a training room if you wish to exercise during our trip. It really shouldn't take that long, despite her archaic appearance and design, I've been retrofitting her..."

He trailed off hearing the howling scream of Neena. His eyebrows raised and he moved towards the door. "Stay here...we have an issue and if I need to come and kill you for attempting anything I would hate to have to waste time hunting you aboard my own ship." He exited the cockpit, heading through the corridors. He finally came upon Neena, sitting upon her hind quarters in a corridor of the ship staring at what appeared to be a ventilation grate. Cag stepped up beside his feline companion and stroked the back of her head. "Hush now, Neena. I'm here..." He said, calming the small panther. He knelt before the grate and examined it. It was highly unlikely he had a parasite or pest aboard, because both Neena and Tridra would have hunted and eaten the pest. The grate looked intact anyways. That was except foe the fact that all four bolts where missing and the metal grate was simply nestles in to the opening.

Reaching forward he tapped the grate softly, trying to peer through the slates. "Hello..." He called out softly. If it wasn't a past, the only thing he could think of was a simply answer. A stowaway was hiding behind the grate, and if that was so it had to be a young and/or an exceptionally small being inside his ventilation system. A larger being wouldn't be able to fit.

Nszun landed his fury class interceptor in a public hanger just outside of downtown Kaas City. Though he was no longer considered a Sith. He would definitely stand out among the crowds of imperial citizens and Sith alike. It wasn't as if he was against the Sith. He was simply... neutral. And the same feeling extended towards the Jedi. He just didn't care. Not in an apathetic since, but it just didn't concern him anymore.

And that was the puzzling part. Why? Why did it not concern him? He had been planet hopping for what seemed like years. And what for? He wasn't sure. He seemed okay with it, though. In fact, he was at peace. Something that he had never actually felt before and was growing quite fond of the feeling. Was it because the war on Tynna was over? It was the last thing he remembered. The war was a long one. And of course coming out victorious from a war would only bring a feeling like peace, would it not? But he was Sith then. He was Sith when the war was over. Why was he not Sith now? At this point, he wasn't concerned about it. He was at peace. He was content. And that's it. Just. Content.

Nszun made his way into a nearby cantina. He takes a seat at the bar.

"Two please."

The bartender places two drinks in front of Nszun and he thanks him. He began to take a drink. As he was doing so, he noticed from the corner of his eye, a Gamorrean was starting right at him.

"Human. What is human doing on Dromund Kaas?"

Nszun looks around.

"Erm... I'm not sure if you've noticed, but this cantina is full of humans," he nods his head to the side with a slight frown, "and humanoids I suppose, which you are one as well. But, I might ask you the same question. What the hell is a Gamorrean doing all the way out in Dromund Kaas?"

"Boss send me to do job. Say to find human. I see you human. Say to bring back alive, he whips out a blaster and points straight to Nszun's head, "Or dead."

It was quite something that the cantina didn't empty out at the sight of a blaster. Though, this was Dromund Kaas. Somewhere else in the cantina, there was probably a very similar situation with someone being held at gun point. Even the bartender didn't make anything of it.

"And I'm assuming that by the way you're looking at me with that grimacing face, though, I guess that's how your kind's face always looks, no offense, and how close your gun is touching my forehead. You want me dead."

The Gamorrean cracked a disgusting toothy smile.

"Oh my goodness. What a smile. Ahem. Let's get this over with. I am not the human you are looking for."

"You are not the human I am looking for."

"You will be on your way."

"I will be on my way."And with that, he left.

"That was the best basic I've ever heard from a Gamorrean."

-----------------------------------

He smiled, staring into his drink. And the longer he stared, the more his gaze became hazy and his smile slowly shifted into a slight frown. He was dozing off. Something was distracting him. It was as if something was tugging on his conscience-- a sort of indescribable force."

"Co...e t.... ...he.....iel....s"

The Celestial hybrid regained his focus. He blinked once and his eyes grew wide for a split second. Did someone say something? He looked at the bartender who was cleaning previously used glasses. No. It wasn't him. He hadn't heard him speak in over an hour. Besides, the voice sounded nothing like this man's. Nszun turned his head slightly to look behind him. Nothing out of the ordinary was happening. Imperials were drinking. Some were dancing. An individual had just fallen off of a table-- obviously had been drinking too much. Two low-lifes were in a heavy fist fight near one of the corners of the cantina away from everyone's sight. Still, there was nothing particularly strange about the whole scene. His environment was normal. Maybe he just needed another drink. Yeah. That was it. He just needed...

"One more please."


The bartender nodded. Nszun stared intently into the liquid being poured into his already foggy looking ale glass. The sound of it being poured soothed him. He kept telling himself to relax. Breathe. Slowly. And as he was about to feel at peace again...


"Come... o.....t.....f...ds"

"......to the ...."

"fi...lds"



"COME TO THE FIELDS QUICKLY YOU FOOL!"


Nszun jolted out of his seat-- so quickly that the few that were relatively close to where he was sitting took notice, especially the bartender."

"Everything alri--"

"I need you to close out my tab. Now," he said quickly with his palm pressed on the table. Nszun felt a sense of dread. Fear. It was something that almost felt foreign to him, yet so familiar-- an almost nostalgic sort of sensation it was. It was no time to soak in the feeling. Pressing matters were at hand. He wasn't sure what they were at all, not even a little bit. Yet, he knew what needed to be done. "Come to the fields." That was all he knew in the moment. Nothing else mattered: The Gamorrean's threats, the actions surrounding him in the cantina. Nothing. Before he could even let the Bartender answer. He swiftly exited the lively establishment. He noticed it was already night time. Streetlights flickered. Creatures of the night already began to run amuck through alleys and in plain sight. As he made his way out of the city. He expected to be jumped, which would have been no problem as he was far more than capable of handling himself. But he was able to avoid trouble. Though, it wasn't intentionally. He felt outside himself. Something, or someone, was calling him. And while his mind was at a loss, his body knew where it needed to go.

Nothing.

Failure etched in from the corners of his mind. While many once came to the Dark Temple to find treasures, artifacts, and even power through the force. Char Thul had not. Instead he came to look for some kind of sign or vision of the future. Something that would that would help lead the disorganized people of this planet to Galactic dominance. Kaas City had become nothing but an entrenched network of scheming nobles, former imperials, and rogue Sith who refused to acknowledge anyone as their leader. Complete gridlock. With the faltering remnants of the Dark Tide and no true organization to the Sith Order, Char wondered how long before the other greater factions of the galaxy sacked the planet. Was the end of the Sith at hand?

You don't believe that. The time will come.

Rain pounded against stone and marble of the temple as dark clouds choked the light from the sky. A crimson cape flowed behind the Sith Lord as he looked out across the wilds of Kaas. After a long moment of reflection he turned back to the inner chambers of the temple. Deserted, few braved the jungles these days to loot the ancient tombs. The eerie silence was only broken by the occasional roll or crack of thunder. Char reached out with his senses letting his emotions guide him. Whispers flooded into his conscious, the dead clawed at his existence seeking to possess the man and reconnect to the realm of living. Yet with the command of the Dark Side of the force, Char pushed them away as he shut his eyes.

My brethren and I invented what it means to be a Sith.
Char's eyes snapped open only to blinded by the flash of lightning. Shielding his eyes, his vision soon cleared and he witnessed a massive figure that loomed in the darkness, the statue of a hooded woman. The blade like fingers of her right hand beheld a roaring fire. Char realized the voice in his head was not his own, but a woman's, it was as if the statue was speaking to him. Before Char could make sense of what was happening, lightning flashed again and with the crack of thunder the statue had vanished. A vision. But of what? Had the dead spirits of fallen Sith taken a toll on his mind. Was this a warning? A specter of the past? A vision of the future?

It was time to leave. With a strong pace the Sith Lord strode out of the temple. Walking out to his land speeder, Char strapped himself in and punched the throttle. In a few minutes he would be back in Kass City.

She trudged her way into the Eyrie proper. It was most certainly an opulent dwelling, by any standards, with walls adorned with richly-coloured tapestries and decorations, walls coloured like gold, artificial fountains and waterfalls, even the servants wore clothes made of silk and fine material. Lord Orin did not shy away from luxury, for sure. Medleyn had no eyes for it, however; It was all just a diamond-studded prison to her. As she passed the glass-shielded enclosures, she briefly observed the various birds-of-prey kept in there. Some stared at her, others ignored her. They would have liked the freedom to really fly, just like she did. Her wounds from her "training" with her father were well on their way to healing already, a gift from her non-human side, whatever it was. The longer she made her way into the Eyrie unchallenged and unhindered in any sort of way, the more alert the auburn-haired girl became. It was not like her siblings to wait this long before ambushing her.

She held her lightsaber in a tight grip, anticipating an attempt to disarm her first. They liked to take away any and all advantages she might have before proceeding with her torments. It was more worrying that they also made no attempt to mask their presence in the Force. This made her frown. Never had they ever made it this easy for her. Something was afoot. Crossing the stairway, she stepped onto the carpeted floor, and was on the floor to the individual private quarters of the family, and there, like guards to her personal quarters, were her older twin sisters, Fiola and Oridia, along with the hulking form of her oldest brother, and the firstborn of the Maiplwuud family, Korval.

“Hello, Maddy,” said Oridia, smiling her catlike smile. Her Sith eyes and smile told Medleyn they had something really nasty in plan for her. That's the only time they'd not ambush her, because whatever was within her room was far worse than anything they could personally inflict on her.

“Ah little sister, did you do well against father today?” asked Fiola. The twins both had the same rounded faces and unkempt fiery-red hair of their mother, but the intense eyes and the sharp nose of their father. Personally, Medleyn was glad she looked nothing like them.

As for Korval, he apparently took on after one of their ancestors, hence his immense size, strength and surprising speed. He leaned against the wall across from the door to Medleyn's quarters. He barely noticed her or paid her much mind, just like he would regard an insect. “You have a guest,” said Korval, “do not keep him waiting.”

Oh no. She closed her eyes. No wonder they were just lounging around. There was only one person that Medleyn absolutely hated beyond all rational thought: Jonus Odan.

Her betrothed.

There was no running away. If she tried, they would just grab her and throw her into the room anyhow. Reluctantly, she took steps forward, as she passed Korval, he reached out and took her lightsaber, “You will not be needing that.” the twins giggled and parted, giving her access to her door.

Upon entering, she could not help the contortion of her face into an expression of pure hatred. She glared openly at the man who would become her husband very soon. As a man, he was not unattractive, with a fine physique, and well-formed facial features. But it was the kind of man that he was that she hated. “Medleyn,” said Jonus, “you took long enough.”

He gestured to her, as if indicating that she was supposed to do something, “I must attend to my family estate soon, so let us not waste time. You know what is expected of you.”

Her fists clenched and her teeth gritted, she said, “Do you know what I expect of you?”

Jonus smiled, “You're feeling bold today. Good, I suppose I could do with a little sport before we go on.” He thrust his palm forward, and though they were twelve feet apart, she reacted as if she had been slammed, and crashed violently against the wall. Red lightning arced across her body as she channelled her own rage and retaliated. She grabbed an antique Sith shield with both hands and swung with all her might. Back and forth they went, until, he finally overpowered her.

Later that night, after Jonus had long since left, and Medleyn recovered enough from the wounds inflicted on her, she slowly made her way to the Slave Quarters located outside the Eyrie. Heading directly for one particular residence, she weakly tapped on the door until it opened, revealing the Chagrian, Tofhir. He looked down at her with a mixture of sorrow and even fear, “You should not be here, milady,” he glanced around to make sure no one could see them both, and then added, “please, return to your home in good health.”

“Tofhir...” said Medleyn, her voice almost pleading, “I need your shelter...”

Sighing, the elder Chagrian moved aside to allow the girl inside. He then closed the door, and blocked his windows. Barely able to hold herself upright, the girl collapsed into the small cot that she had whenever she came to visit her only friend in secret. She felt sick, and beyond exhausted. Her wounds were painful, and even with her accelerated regeneration, she was going to need some additional assistance, which Tofhir was capable of providing. As he tended to her wounds, whispering soothing words, the girl cried and wept openly. He comforted her as best as he could, until she fell at last into an uneasy slumber, filled with dreams almost disturbing enough to reawaken her to her living nightmares.

Medleyn's birthday was not a joyous affair. If anything, it was a day more greatly dreaded than most other days. Ever since she killed that Jedi, they had yet to throw any more at her. Either they were running out of their supply of Jedi captives, or they had something worse planned. And ever since then, she had taken to the belief that the only easy day was yesterday, and she kept her father's poisonous dagger to cut herself every now and then. The wounds could take days, even weeks to heal. The pain gave her something else to focus on, rather than the haunting memories. The look of sheer serenity in the Jedi's eyes. The lack of fear in his final moments.

“Medleyn!” said Rosalynd, her mother, “Keep pace! You are falling behind.”

She stumbled forward, having been assisted forward with a rough shove in the back by her youngest brother, Zether, “You should be proud,” he said, “It is your birthday, and we are celebrating it.”

She held her silence, but only scowled and kept pace as best as she could with all her unwillingness to be with these people. Her sullen attitude kept her eyes to the ground, and she realized too late just where she was going. But when she heard his voice, saw his face, she was suddenly fully alert. “Jonus Odan.”

“Betrothed,” said Jonus, “You are looking well.”

It amused her family, and the Odans a great deal to see her bristling at the sight of her husband-to-be. They were taking a tour of the joint estate that was being built, directly between the two families. Slaves from both sides were pressed into labour for the building. While Medleyn stood there watching, she could sense the hatred within the slaves. The hatred for her. This was how this mad society lived and supposedly thrived. Hatred, the strong dominating the weak. It was what she was taught about the Jedi: How they promoted weakness. But if they were indeed weak as her father said, why was it that for thousands of years, the Jedi continue to exist and even thrive in their own ways? No, they were all flawed in their beliefs somehow.

The slave master was punishing one particular slave. Reaching out with the Force, Medleyn could sense such defiance that was beyond any conventional slave. Most slaves were broken. Even if they felt hatred or defiance, it was generally in the back of their heads, sometimes hidden from themselves. But this man was more like a...she wasn't really sure, but he was not quite a slave. Perhaps he was a new capture. That could be the only thing that made sense.

“Slave master,” said Dunkan, her father, “What trouble does this slave give you?”

“Absolute defiance, my lord,” said the slave master, “He is not worth sparing.”

Everyone turned to look at Medleyn, “Well, daughter?” said Dunkan, “What say you we do to a defiant and worthless slave?”

“......” The girl felt trapped. At least the Jedi was armed, this was an unarmed man. No doubt that the Sith killed that which was useless to them or what they perceived to be weak, but, even as she pondered this, her lightsaber was taken from her and then placed into her hand.

“Stop shaming us, daughter,” said Rosalynd, “For once, do as you are expected to do, and redeem yourself, such as you are.”

The slave was thrown before her and he rose to his knees, looking up expectantly at her. Slowly, she raised the blade above her head, and then held it there. When it became obvious that she would not even kill a mere slave, whom she did not know, she suddenly felt the lightsaber being wrenched from her hands. She turned to see Jonus holding her weapon, and then he kicked her in the back. She collided with the slave and the two went tumbling down the pit in heap of arms and legs.

“Bah! What a weakling!” Jonus Odan spat, “Have you no characteristics of a Sith at all?”

“Enough,” said Dunkan, “I leave her at your mercy, slaves. Do with her as you please. We will return later, if there is anything left of the girl to recover.”

The families turned to leave, with Medleyn's siblings giving her scornful looks, and barely concealed amusement at her predicament. Medleyn was no fool. She might have a chance if these were the Maiplwuud household slaves, but this lot didn't know her much. To them, she was like any other Sith, and her father had essentially given them the go ahead to attack her. It would take a while for it to truly set in, but eventually, Maddy would be surrounded by over a hundred angry slaves. And without her lightsaber, she didn't count on her chances to be much. Unless she could wrest that electro-whip from the slave master. It wasn't much, but it was better than nothing.

What was baffling was why they just stood there waiting. Even the most hesitant or broken slave would have done something at this point. That was when it occurred to her that they were waiting for the families to be out of earshot. The slave she spared stood up, and he glanced at the other slaves, nodding his head, and that was when she noticed that the dark marks under his eyes were not the marks from lack of sleep. It was painting.

Sith painting.

And his tan skin was in fact the leftover red paint. He was no slave.

“Very perceptive,” said the Sith, “I'm impressed how quickly you figured it out.”

He straightened up, and the slaves turned to look at him attentively. He must have influenced them already. Even the slave master was clearly with him. Medleyn readied herself for anything, but so far, it was just tense silence and waiting. They couldn't do this all day. And a Sith outside of the two families meant only one thing: An attack was coming.

While Medleyn didn't care for her family in the least, she did care for her own safety, and that of Tofhir's. Often, during a hostile takeover by Sith, slaves would be collateral. When she could sense that her family and that of Jonus' was beyond range of hearing, the Sith made his move, “It's all right, Medleyn, you will not die. You spared my life, so I will spare yours.”

Medleyn knew better than to feel relief for that, “That said, the fool Jonus is right about one thing: Mercy is a sign of weakness, and you must learn your place, my Padawan.”

His hand rose with viper-like speed, and lightning shot from his fingertips, dancing over her body painfully. She screamed and collapsed in a writhing heap, unable to even escape the torment. She crushed sand and debris in her pained grip as she tried desperately to crawl away, but the Sith kept pouring on the lightning, until she saw blackness around the edge of her vision, and then she saw no more.

It was hours, maybe even days later that she awoke, chained by the wrists and her neck. The Sith's name was revealed to be Galath, the self proclaimed lord of the shadows. Though he was perhaps living up to his title and name, considering that he had been biding his time in hiding, growing in strength and number, preparing to take over the largest Sith families single-handedly. Kept in a dazed and weakened state, Medleyn could not make any attempts of escape. She listened to Galath plot the downfall of the Maiplwuud and Odan family. There was soon to be a gathering of both heads and their entire family units, under the Maiplwuud household, actually a manipulation of Galath's to have everyone in one place.

“From there, we will lay waste to the heads,” said Galath, addressing his followers from a podium, with Medleyn standing dazedly next to him, while he held her chains, occasionally yanking it and causing her to nearly fall over whenever he performed an extreme action or movement, “After the bombs have detonated, and the fighters have laid down their fire, we will emerge from within the estate itself, thanks to the secret entrances shown to us by my new Padawan. From there, take down any and all that you see, but leave Lord Orin and Lord Malas to me.”

Galath had forced Medleyn to reveal every secret path, trap and security placement of the estate to him, so he could eliminate any chance of his plans being discovered too soon. Truthfully, Medleyn would have given it willingly, but she only resisted out of fear for Tofhir's safety. Galath had a surprising number of Sith warriors on his side. The two families united would actually face a difficult challenge with Galath.

“All that you have been working for will soon come to fruition,” Galath promised his people, and he smiled maliciously down at the girl beside him, “And since it was all thanks to you. I think it's only fair that you accompany us to see this through, my apprentice.”

Yes, Medleyn would see it through. Drugged and beaten as she was, she was in fact, biding her own time as well, saving what little strength she had, for her chance. She had it with the Sith. Anything was better than this, and she was going to betray everything, get Tofhir out, and flee this mad world.

Anything was better than this.