Harnaidan

Before Hevn he saw the remainder of their enemies slaughtered quickly. First came the sudden crackle of lightning. Tendrils of it ripping through men in flashes of light. Shuddering and falling in fire and screams. From behind Alkor he could see the rise and fall of Solomon's silver blade. In the darkness Hevn and Alkor were at home, and most impressively Xeonon made even shorter work of them. No match for the Knight, they were thrashed once the injured Kali followed in. Taking their flank with a flurry of brutal stabbings, while their eyes were wary of the silver sword slicing through men left and right.

Alkor's essence was an intoxicating tornado that made the dark side easy to touch upon. He had touched the other side, calling upon forbidden power that left a corruption upon the places it touched. Upon the men and women who used it. He cursed, familiar with the language Alkor whispered into the force, echoing in his mind, and yet knowing not a single of the words he chose to bear a pain far beyond even what crucitorn had taught Hevn. This was a powerful measure indeed. Alkor had always been a warrior, but now Hevn truly saw Alkor's rise. Taking the place of one of the many titans who crumbled and left only emptiness. To have such a brother at his side gave him some small feeling of invincibility. The way he had felt in the midst of Reign, C'thulu, Eversio, Pyros, Targus, and the others he had once fought beside so long ago.

Seizing the power of the dark side was natural. Drinking in the stain of darkness left by Alkor, he spreads his will through the halls. It seemed each of the cowards in this hole had amassed in one place to make a final stand. At least their wish of heroism was granted.

Deactivating his sabers he fixes the cold blade of his gaze upon Kali.

"The last."

Hevn gestured to the floor behind her where over a hundred corpses lie in their joined wake. The he gestures toward a corridor.

"Very near."

Nodding to Alkor, the two lead the way for Solomon and Kali. The datapad at the door was blinking red. Alkor rose his skeletal hand above head, and drew his nails down the center. It rose for him as if he were the guardian itself. Destined to cross Hevn just moments before this. The force was a mysterious and great power.

Hevn and Alkor cross the threshold and Alkor snaps his body around to face Kali and Solomon. He mutters in the strange language again, his skeletal arm outstretched before him. A faint red light flickers beneath the blackened skin. His announcement was sudden fierce.

"You may enter."

Alkor's displeasure with the subject was clear. Hevn stood beside him with a cold indifference painted on his face. Kali and Solomon cross into a large square room. In the center was a table upon which items could be inspected. On the left were the vaults of the Jen'jidai. The others were of no significance or memory to Hevn. Hevn's eyes find Solomon's. He extends a hand to the right.

"The mass driver is on the bottom right."

Hevn paused giving him a hard stare. In the fierce blare of the pale sapphires he measured the man.

How many times Hevn had walked this path to find allies of lesser integrity pointing that cannon at his face. Perhaps even endangering Alkor or Kali. Solomon had thus far been judged honorable. As honorable as any man he had ever made an accord with if not more so. The man's half burned face was a testament of loyalty to a cause he could have fled at the sight of danger. A warrior through and through. Tough, intelligent, and reliable.

Yet he was wicked enough to evade the reach of the Imperials. To change his face and live on. An opportunist for certain. A schemer for certain as well. The price you pay for preferring the cunning.

"We will clear our vaults for extraction. The rest are yours. They are of no meaning to me."

Hevn could not resist the pull toward Reign's vault. Approaching it with a haste that was uncommon of Bedrovelse, he needed only activate the third security measure which was the force trigger. Finding it took a moment, as he stared fixated at the door. Finally his eyes rose to the top and the door opened. It wasn't empty, but someone had gotten there first. Whether the Sage or Elyia, he could not possibly know. A grunt of disgust and frustration escapes him.

Reaching inside he pulls from within several small black boxes. They were not the holocron of Lord Wiilliam Reign. They were not the regal sword that belonged to his master. Hevn turns to Alkor, to see what he was going after, and to show him his find.

"The journals of our deceased masters. Would you have Master Plaga's? I should like to study it, if you would allow it. I feel it safe to say I may log the others into the Order's library for reference, and completing the histories of the fallen."

The black box at the bottom he hands to Kali. It was full of precious stones, and lightsaber crystals. Giving her the same hard stare he had given Xeonon he pauses.

"Your reward. If one of the stones calls out to you in the force, show it to me."

Holding the journals in hand, Hevn closes Reign's vault. He fights back the feeling of defeat. Stifles his anger. Quells his hatred. The sea of darkness that came against him was ferocious, but not unbearable. Control was the Dark Jedi way. His goals were accomplished. Despite this devastating blow he had reclaimed the means to revive the Order. It was by this that he had to measure success.

His last clue as to the legacy of William Reign was lost. His final effort exhausted. He had sacked the city in a blitzkrieg assault. Killing billions, destroying everything, a cost all paid to come up empty handed. There was no trace left to follow. No hope left to waste a light upon. The blackness he suppressed took its place. A hardened burning hatred for the robber of Reign's legacy.

His body still reeled from the perversion that beset it, but Alkor showed no outward sign that his flesh was weak. The mind of a Jen'jidai laid bare all afterthought of vulnerability and an eerie calm permeated his being, the shaky, fragile calm at the heart of a hurricane. Surrounded by death, Alkor centered himself and rooted his mind in the knowledge that he stood only a stone's throw from the secrets he swore to protect.

Hevn offered him the journal of C'thulu Plaga and Alkor stared hard at the leatherbound tome. Thin black digits swept over the book with unfeeling precision, and the arm swirled with red inner light as remnant power from his vulgar display echoed through his body and reacted to their origin.

"A chronicle of the Order's past is prudent to ensure the mistakes are not repeated."

The finality in Alkor's words came from deep within, as though he channeled a wisdom beyond his own. His fingers withdrew gently from the journal and a wisp of darkness rose from the item Hevn held out to him. A moment later, the fog dissipated and Alkor let his hand fall once more. "You may study the ruminations of Plaga as you see necessary. I have lifted the ward he placed over his words. C'thulu was a firm believer that even the smallest amount of knowledge had the potential to change worlds, in the right hands. He was especially careful with his own."

Alkor did not care to speak on words exchanged with his master, but he knew enough of the man's psyche to know what likely rested in the pages of his journal. Reflections on the state of the order, the galaxy, various political decisions made by the Jen'jidai... all wisdom a sage could benefit from greatly. The thoughts of a great man with a talent for leadership and a staggering grasp on control haunted those pages, but Alkor never considered himself great.

His master trained him as a husk, a weapon rather than anything remotely like a true pupil. Alkor had seen only glimpses of the magic Plaga wielded, and though his own strength scratched the surface, the lesser son of a greater father chose a different road to his own destiny. He knew the incantations, for all they were worth. He had the ability to draw on his soul for power, to twist and warp the Force to do his bidding, but Alkor had always viewed it as unnatural to let study of the occult outweigh mastery of the mind and body.

That was what set him apart from others Plaga trained. So many souls consumed by the maddening desire for greater power than oneself. Men corrupted by the darkest secrets that the galaxy offered fell short of true strength.

With a tight grip, Alkor pulled at the latch that lifted the door to his master's vault. "The vast riches of House Plaga were sucked away by the scumsucking creature that shared his name," Alkor cautioned, "but what you seek alone remains. Baldur Plaga was unworthy of his grandfather's legacy, but he saw fit to claim what he could. A scavenger, picking at the bones of a dead king."

Alkor walked deeper into the vault as Hevn turned his attention to Kali, and he wandered alone into the presence of his teacher. C'thulu had gone from this world, but where he went, his essence lingered. A creature that transcended death left a black pockmark in his wake. Alkor could feel him resonating at the heart of a centralized abyss. The gauntlet.

He remembered those years ago, when first he touched it. By a single touch, his mind ignited. Every fascination in his mind, the smallest of desires, the simplest of emotions erupted into a maelstrom of greater power. The darkness in his soul fed a forge of energies that created something pure evil.

To a man like C'thulu, this served only to heighten his already great strength. To Alkor, it was temptation, and he wanted little and less to do with it.

"Have you no ambition?"

"There is nothing in this galaxy I want. There are things I need, and I can get them by my own strength. No glove can do that for me."

"Pride, or Integrity, I wonder. The darkness has no lure to you, Centaris?"

"The Darkness is a tool. That is how it should be. A man ought never rely on any force outside his own power."

"Time will tell whether you have the strength to give those words truth, child..."

The tomb closed behind Alkor as he emerged, and he held the item out to Bedrovelse in silence, dangling it from between two fingers like he wanted to be rid of it. The toxic nature of the power might feed the hunger of some, but there were many kinds of men in the world. Even among Dark Jedi.

"Each of them collected power in some way," he murmured irreverently. "Lahash conquered worlds. Reign built an Empire. C'thulu transcended death."

Alkor shrugged. "And yet, all of them are dead, and I am not. Who's victory is that?"

The reality was, Alkor had not intended to come to this place at all. Hevn intended to restore the Order. Alkor wondered if it could be done, and if it could, what new direction it would take.

"I have done my duty as a Jen'jidai," he stated coldly. "The duty fulfilled, the oath kept. Our enemies, even the enemies within, are dead. So the old covenant has been sated."

They were old words in a new language. Words Hevn surely knew. Once, he had flayed the flesh from Alkor's arm and spoken vows over the wound. The exchange had twisted Alkor's arm slowly, but with knowledge from his Master, the Jen'jidai had turned that oath into another tool. That tool now hungered for release from its thankless task.

"The time of the Dark Jedi Order is gone. My debt is paid in full."

Hevn nods his gratitude as Alkor releases the spell over the tome. Plaga's journal would be a treat for a mind such as Hevn's. Kali reproached his gift as Alkor made his way deeper into the vault. His eyebrows turn in and his stare of conflicted agony lingers on her in silence. When finally he spoke it was with a vacancy in his tone.

"You lack the foresight to see that those will buy you what you need. As you have nothing."

He looked past her. Toward the vault where he felt a sudden and overwhelming rush of darkness. It crawled over his Ensolican bones and made him shiver for the first time in his life. His next words were with a distance from reality, his mind wandering.

"Everything has a price. Strength takes many forms."

Kali held the radiant blue gem in front of his face. A nearly flawless thing, and certainly no sapphire. Enough to draw him back in he subjects his harsh gaze upon it in scrutiny. It was the rare and expensive permafrost crystal. It would make a strong blue lightsaber blade.

"Very fine. That will be your first lightsaber crystal."

Hevn felt Alkor's return before the tomb slammed down behind him with a final closing. Hevn snorts in disgust, a scowl erupting over his face, even with the gauntlet hanging before him from Alkor's finger tips. Robbed as well. Those sniveling rotten bastards had cleaned them both out. Hevn took the gauntlet from Alkor confidently. He examines it immediately, turning it over to look at the fingertips where as promised, Qixoni blood crystals were embedded in the clawed fingers. The means by which he was returned to....

A dream crept over him suddenly. Ripping the claws over Baldur's throat. Watching his blood spill from his wailing windpipe with the fresh taste of revenge on his tongue. The smell of Elyia's burning flesh as bolts of hatred tore her apart. Screams wailing like wedding bells.

Snapping out of it, he stared at Alkor with a grim understanding.

Hevn had followed in the wake of his master's callings. He had built an empire of spice and droid manufacturing, a brilliant smuggling technique. Hevn had conquered Kinyen, Uvena Prime, Neimoidia, Geonosis, Kessel, and now Muunilinst for the second time if his defeat of Lahash's army in the civil war counted. Bedrovelse had crossed from death, bending the force to return his vengeful spirit to rage on. A spectre of the dark side that fed and depended on it. One who also desired to achieve control over the darkness. To be more than the monster he was made to be by force beyond his control....outside of his vast knowledge and power...tethered forever to the shadow within.

Whose victory is that?

"It is my victory, Alkor Centaris."

What could he do? Shake his hand? Thank him? Salute? These were not efforts wasted on a man who viewed them as such himself. The shadow hanging over Alkor was enormous. Hevn wondered if it was as burdensome as his own.

"And so it is sated....the debt collected. May the oaths fall with those who made them. I see them only as empty...dangerous...prideful. It took exacting my final one to see that. It is control, understanding...knowledge. "

Hevn begins to mutter in a whisper.

"Is it enough?"

It was almost poetic when it all began to crumble behind him. The echoes of pain. The crumbling of all that stood before them. The rise of the greatest weapon ever built. Solomon's power was impressive. To wield the force to crush it all was an impressive feat he found himself relieved not to be the target of. As Xeo programmed the mass driver and it began to hum, Hevn moved toward his own vault.

He extracts his credit ingots, a lightsaber with an electrum handle shiny and gold, a case of alchemy supplies. Hevn keeps most of his secrets on person so that he would have to be directly defeated to attain anything worthwhile.

Red leader, Green leader, be advised. Mass driver cannon has been aimed at Sky Port. Get clear of that location immediately.

As it switched to auto Hevn observed the destruction with a grin of satisfaction. Explosions lit the sky like fireworks. High port had been struck and for just a moment all sound faded. The noise from afar, the screams nearby, the sounds of blasters and battle all stunned at once. Eyes locked on the sudden slam of sound that filled the air near and far. Fire and death, Hevn gazes fondly into.

With a grin painful to his facial wounds he mutters, striding toward the opening in the wall.

"Fantastic."

Dropping down through the hole Xeonon strode back to the others oblivious to the destruction going on behind him. Like the other two men he had become desensitized to the violence. This was his life, had been his life for nearly 60 years. Death, destruction, carnage; they were all old friends that tucked him in at night. Despite trying to ignore it for years this is who he was. Dress it up as you may, be it serving an Empire or your own personal needs things happened the same.

I hate to be the bearer of bad news but that warhead I brought to cover our tracks, its going to go off in 15 minutes. If we are done here I suggest we take what we have and get out I dont care for being to close to the blast radius for a capitol grade bomb.

Looking around at the trio he couldnt help but notice Kalis face. She obviously hadnt been with Hevn very long or else what she would seeing wouldnt have been new. This would harden her though. If you lived with Bedrovelese this was your life. Hopefully she wasn't getting cold feet. Loyalty can only take you so far and if your breaking point is sooner rather than later then she would not last with such a harsh man.

Eyeing the gauntlet that Alkor grabbed he appraised it. The crystals alone were worth more than most everything he would find in the lockboxes. The gauntlet no doubt belonging to one of the former Dark Jedi for a moment he wondered what he had wrought. Sure this would have happened without him but he was a part of it. What would happen now that two of the galaxies finest force users were together?

Hevn's eyes lock on Xeonon as he delivers his warning. His mission was complete. He turns upon Kali, gesturing her to follow. One look at her and she stared back hard. Face void of emotion though it stewed beneath her guard like bees in a jar. Control. She was already learning quickly. A good thing. It seemed they were all on the same page about departing. Striding beside Alkor his hands dart over the comm.

Alpha bring the ship to the streets beyond the front entrance. We need to get out of here now.

Hevn switches the channel.

Red and Green teams this is Blue. Evacuate immediately. Mission is complete.

They were hard words to say in the wake of the robbery. Both vaults cleared of all but the leftovers of their masters hidden treasures.

They traversed the debris and streets with ease as nothing but the whispers of life once lived echoed over the sounds of fire. The smell of smoke was thick in the air. In the sky the black dot of Hevn's infiltrator approached rapidly. Before it towers and spires crumbled into ocean and smashed against the land in clouds of dust.

"It was truly meant to fall apart, and in the end. Here and now..."

Hevn looks back toward Solomon. Toward the rail gun firing into the air and the bomb left in the basement of the Banking Clan Headquarters.

"We were meant to finish it."

As the Infiltrator lands the cargo bay and ramp to the cockpit open. Hevn reaches his hands out, to assist Xeonon's loading up the ship with the strongboxes from the bottom of the vault. Red team would deliver the rest to Hoth.

"Wherever you need to go, I can take you. Let's go."

Hevn ascends to the copilot seat. There were two seats behind the pilots and four in the cargo bay. Hevn's speeder bike in the center and Solomon's stongboxes piled up around it.

The ship would rise alongside the regrouping Reaver and Emerald Blade ships to fly toward orbit. The skyhook crumbled off to their right as they pulled higher and higher into the air beside it.

At the southern perimeter of the defensive encirclement established by the Emerald Blades, First Lieutenant Gunnerson watched as the scattered remnants of the Muun's private security retreated back to the outskirts of the city. The E-web in their building fell silent with the withdrawal of the enemy, the only sound filling the air being the soft crackling of the burning vehicles on the road. The acrid smell of burnt electronics and metals wafted in from the streets to mingle with spent energy packs that shimmered with heat on the floor. One of the sergeants added to the complex mix as he lit up a small cigar. Gunnerson stood from his position by the window and began walking down the hallway that connected all the rooms facing the outer perimeter. He checked in on the members of his squad, finding that everybody was in high spirits and still supplied with a decent amount of ammunition. As he completed his check and moved back to his position, his headset sprung to life.



Gunnerson checked the window one last time to make sure they wouldn't be pursued in the next few minutes. Satisfied, he called out to his team. "Alright, that's it! Pack it up and be ready to ship out! Heading to the rendezvous in five!" Whilst the clatter of equipment being disassembled filled the halls, Gunnerson activated his commlink to broadcast on all Emerald Blade channels. "Charlie Charlie this Echo One-One. Mission accomplished, move to rendezvous. I repeat, mission accomplished, move to rendezvous. Radio checks to confirm, over." Over the next minute, each squad checked in and confirmed the message, packing their equipment and moving back to their initial insertion point. Every squad except for Echo 2-3. As Gunnerson's team left the building and pushed towards the center of the city, he keyed into their channel in an attempt to reach them. "Echo Two-Three this is Echo One-One, send your sitrep, over."

A few moments went by, and Gunnerson began to fear the worst. He was about to hail them again and send a squad to investigate when Sergeant Mordred came over the line. Echo One-One this is Echo Two-Three. Heavy contacts, at least two squads, well armed. One Armored Assault Tank. We've got three casualties; one KIA, two wounded. Over. Gunnerson thought for a few moments before deciding with the best course of action. He needed those soldiers out of there, the enemy pushed back long enough for the teams to escape, and any evidence erased. "Echo Two-Three this is Echo One-One, fall back to rendezvous ASAP. Airstrikes are inbound to your position, out." He switched his frequency over to communicate with the aircraft that zipped around above the city. "Kilo One-One this is Echo One-One, come in, over.

High in the sky, the K-wings kept with their X-wing escorts as they waited for their next target. The lead K-wing answered promptly. Echo One-One this is Kilo One-One, send it, over. Gunnerson and his team were approaching the rendezvous, the the CR25's in sight as they approached the courtyard's with their LAAT/i gunship escorts. "Kilo One-One this is Echo One-One, commence bombardment on Echo Two-Three's last location. Over." The K-wings immediately broke from their flight pattern and descended upon the city, arming their payloads. Their X-wing escorts fanned out and watched their flanks. Echo One-One this is Kilo One-One, wilco, out.

Sergeant Mordred knew they couldn't waste any more time at this position. Calling to his men for rapid evacuation, the soldiers left the heavy anti-tank launcher and E-web turret and made for the rear exit. Helping the two wounded out, they had no choice but to leave their dead comrade by the damaged E-web turret. While their identities had to remain a secret on this mission, there was nothing on the soldiers that could link them to any organization. Clad in urban camouflage, their uniforms had no patches or symbols on them. Each soldier's dogtags were left at their bunks aboard the Acclamator in orbit. Bursting through the rear door and into the back alley, the team moved as fast as they could towards the extraction. As they left the block they had been fighting in, the Muun forces cut across the courtyard and stormed the empty building.

Within seconds of the local forces taking the building, the entire block shuddered as it was hit with the payload of four K-wings. Debris shot into the sky twice the size of the surrounding buildings as several warheads tore the previously occupied outpost to pieces. The courtyard was enveloped in smoke and fire with the impact of a thermobaric warhead, killing several soldiers instantly. The AAT was pushed into a nearby building by a bomb detonating in the street next to it, and the building collapsed over the helpless vehicle as another warhead drilled in and destroyed the building from within. The entire block disappeared in a cloud of dust, leaving a handful of scattered survivors in shock and lost in the screen of carnage.

One by one, each squad arrived to their CR25 and formed a perimeter, waiting for their full platoon to arrive before boarding. After waiting an extra few minutes for Echo 2-3's team to arrive and board, the transports took off and ascended for the stars. The K-wings and CR25s flew with the escort of LAAT/i gunships into orbit, with the fellow X-wings hanging back slightly to deter any interceptors from rising up to pursue them.

When the last gun is silenced, when the last blade has sung and been sheathed, does anyone wonder what happens next, does anyone pause to give thought to the atrocity. Who ever the victor people suffered, always the underdogs the under trod.

A golden ray of light shine through a jagged crack in the spiked shard of rubble which caused the visor in Davos Reim's helmet to shield his eyes marginally from the flaring light, this only bathed his boyish face in shadows, shadows that matched his dark thoughts.

Hope was all, despite its many guises and multiple incarnations the Imperial Empire believed to be or held to be good or evil was always resolute and always steadfast. Though this side of the Empire was rarely displayed on the holo channels, because who wanted to see lagoons of soldiers clearing rubble, excavating corpses from the remains of a building or struggling to regain and rebuild order on a desolated planet. People only wanted the painted pretty picture, the glory, the might, the power, the victorious not the diseased, or the stricken or the dead.

Muunilinst, the latest casualty of an attack, would a declaration of war follow, who knew. Knowing wasn't Davos Raim's job, that was for the big wigs at the top. His details were simple as were those of his squad. "Help clean up, escort survivors to the new errected temporary camps. Keep the peace, help, aid and assist as need be." His orders were more of a directive, essentially establishing a peace and keeping the riff raff under a firm boot was the general underlying objective. Placating the thousands of people as best possible whilst not really attending to their needs,for truth be told their needs would suck a man dry. Everything was about management, whether it be people, resources, supplies, money or troops. In this case it was all of those.
"Do what you can soldier but not at the expense of the Empire."

Davos turned his booted foot grating upon the ashen grey gravel beneath foot, activating his communications to Dragoon 4 also known as 'Bull'. "Okay Bull, that's the last of them from sector eight, let's keep them in a nice orderly moving line and get them up the hill to camp.

This particular group were being herded to camp Bravo, in particular military and Imperial style the camps had been given numerical assignment as apposed to names. It helped with coordination as well as some crap about preventing attachment or instilling any adverse ideals or effects on the camp inhabitants.

Davos tagged on the tail end of the line as he followed the snaking hundred and eighty two citizens to be rehoused or Seebrease for short up the hill.