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Post by Alkor Centaris on Aug 25, 2014 20:35:13 GMT -8
Orange and yellow painted the high spires of Candia as the sun cast monolithic shadows on the smaller buildings. The dull roar of the sleepless city as day broke out like shattered glad gradually rose into a hymn of metropolitan life. When All or took his first steps from the shuttle onto the flighted platform, he glanced out from beneath the pitch black hood and skimmed the city in silence.
"Greetings!" The voice came from a protocol droid, apparent in its duty to greet him. He toyed with the notion- as was his way with droids- of leaving the machine in several molten pieces, but he relented. Best not to make a great deal of attention come his way. Not yet. "Welcome to Carannia, Jen'jidai...?"
Alkor raised his hand and waved off the seemingly harmless pleasantries. "Don't call me that," he spoke in a plain, unaccented basic that masked his origin, even to the point that no droid could differentiate. "It's best to leave the details of this visit undocumented, even though we are well outside the operations of the Galactic Republic. Titles like that still ring in ears everywhere."
A convenient truth, perhaps, but a truth nonetheless. In reality, Alkor was severely disinterested in being courted by some droid or his masters. The title of Jen'jidai was not something to idly be thrown about, nor strewn like pearls before swine. He would have to reconcile that bit of this droid's programming, eventually.
"Count Nalju has been expecting you," the droid answered, nonplussed by the abrasive nature of Alkor's rebuff. The Dark Jedi eyed the metallic man anew, this time considering it's words. "You are to meet with the Count, yes? Your attire is consistent with..."
"Stow it," Alkor hissed. He was already tired of the prattle of service droids. He could not imagine the fortitude it would require to withstand nobility. Absently, he assured the presence of his weaponry with a few concise movements over his vestments, and once he was certain everything was intact, he nodded. "Nalju," he said finally, after making the droid wait for what seemed like several minutes. "He wants to speak to me directly. That's what he wants?"
"Correct, sir." The droid kept the answer short. That was good. It was a quick learner.
"Why." It was dry, and without question, as if Alkor expected the answer. The droid seemed unaware of any imminent danger, so it simply stared at him.
"He didn't say, sir." Alkor placed a hand firmly on the droid's shoulder. "He said to bring you to him, and that was all."
"Then hurry up about it." When Alkor removed his hand, the droid watched blankly as he marched ahead, then hurried quickly to keep up. It remained quiet the entire way, except the occasional offer of directions. Alkor seemed intuitively drawn toward his quarry. The droid, not programmed for complex emotion, failed to make the connection from what was happening in front of him.
"We are almost there," the droid announced. Alkor glanced up, but his reaction remained guarded, even to those who might pry at it through the Force. He waited intently for his host.
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Post by Nyra Rishtar on Aug 26, 2014 19:17:51 GMT -8
Nyra awakened early. Getting up from the comfort of the bed she dressed in her clothes, which she found recently cleaned of blood on a dresser. She looked around the room, finding no one. They must have sneaked in while she slept. Nyra slipped her shoes on and walked over to the door, opening it slightly and peeking her head out into the hallway, which was also clean of the blood she had tracked from the interrogation room.
"Hello?"
Not hearing an immediate response, Nyra blinked a few times before walking out into the hall and began walking around. She felt different. Ronin had told her she would not, but she could tell. She blinked slightly more often than usual, as if she was recently blinded by a bright light, and her eyes were having trouble adjusting back to normal light.
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Count Ronin Nalju
The Dark Jedi Order
Posts: 105 
Affiliation: Aristocratic rule/Tyranny
Traffic Light: Blue
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Post by Count Ronin Nalju on Aug 26, 2014 19:37:18 GMT -8
Orange and yellow painted the high spires of Candia as the sun cast monolithic shadows on the smaller buildings. The dull roar of the sleepless city as day broke out like shattered glad gradually rose into a hymn of metropolitan life. When All or took his first steps from the shuttle onto the flighted platform, he glanced out from beneath the pitch black hood and skimmed the city in silence. "Greetings!" The voice came from a protocol droid, apparent in its duty to greet him. He toyed with the notion- as was his way with droids- of leaving the machine in several molten pieces, but he relented. Best not to make a great deal of attention come his way. Not yet. "Welcome to Carannia, Jen'jidai...?" Alkor raised his hand and waved off the seemingly harmless pleasantries. "Don't call me that," he spoke in a plain, unaccented basic that masked his origin, even to the point that no droid could differentiate. "It's best to leave the details of this visit undocumented, even though we are well outside the operations of the Galactic Republic. Titles like that still ring in ears everywhere." A convenient truth, perhaps, but a truth nonetheless. In reality, Alkor was severely disinterested in being courted by some droid or his masters. The title of Jen'jidai was not something to idly be thrown about, nor strewn like pearls before swine. He would have to reconcile that bit of this droid's programming, eventually. "Count Nalju has been expecting you," the droid answered, nonplussed by the abrasive nature of Alkor's rebuff. The Dark Jedi eyed the metallic man anew, this time considering it's words. "You are to meet with the Count, yes? Your attire is consistent with..." "Stow it," Alkor hissed. He was already tired of the prattle of service droids. He could not imagine the fortitude it would require to withstand nobility. Absently, he assured the presence of his weaponry with a few concise movements over his vestments, and once he was certain everything was intact, he nodded. "Nalju," he said finally, after making the droid wait for what seemed like several minutes. "He wants to speak to me directly. That's what he wants?" "Correct, sir." The droid kept the answer short. That was good. It was a quick learner. "Why." It was dry, and without question, as if Alkor expected the answer. The droid seemed unaware of any imminent danger, so it simply stared at him. "He didn't say, sir." Alkor placed a hand firmly on the droid's shoulder. "He said to bring you to him, and that was all." "Then hurry up about it." When Alkor removed his hand, the droid watched blankly as he marched ahead, then hurried quickly to keep up. It remained quiet the entire way, except the occasional offer of directions. Alkor seemed intuitively drawn toward his quarry. The droid, not programmed for complex emotion, failed to make the connection from what was happening in front of him. "We are almost there," the droid announced. Alkor glanced up, but his reaction remained guarded, even to those who might pry at it through the Force. He waited intently for his host.
*How long had it been? He quipped internally. At least since William Reign committed honorable suicide. It seems even the most wayward often find their way back home. If I had known he was going to arrive, I would have made sure he met with someone who was less annoying than a default protocol droid.*
*Suddenly, and rather late, a message from Fleet Admiral Wrard'ar'tuazirga arrives. Ronin already knows what it is about. He stands and makes his way out to greet his long lost brother. Still with his Dark Jedi robes on and his hood draped over his head. Leaving just his telltale smirk visible. He felt unsure about how this was going to turn out. Would they argue over the future of the Order? Or would they rebuild what was once almost lost? He could not tell but not knowing brought just as much excitement as it did fear. When he passes the servants they know not to look at him directly when he was in his Dark Jedi garb. They feared the worst and with good cause. Servants had been known to disappear after seeing him like this. He moved quickly through the Estate so as to not keep his brother waiting too long. Some in the Dark Jedi were known to be impatient. As his master, the Lord Governor, was prone to be from time to time. Regardless, Ronin could sense that something huge was about to unfold. Time to play the hand that was almost lost all together.* |
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Count Ronin Nalju
The Dark Jedi Order
Posts: 105
Affiliation: Aristocratic rule/Tyranny
Traffic Light: Blue
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Post by Count Ronin Nalju on Aug 26, 2014 20:23:25 GMT -8
Nyra awakened early. Getting up from the comfort of the bed she dressed in her clothes, which she found recently cleaned of blood on a dresser. She looked around the room, finding no one. They must have sneaked in while she slept. Nyra slipped her shoes on and walked over to the door, opening it slightly and peeking her head out into the hallway, which was also clean of the blood she had tracked from the interrogation room."Hello?" Not hearing an immediate response, Nyra blinked a few times before walking out into the hall and began walking around. She felt different. Ronin had told her she would not, but she could tell. She blinked slightly more often than usual, as if she was recently blinded by a bright light, and her eyes were having trouble adjusting back to normal light.
=Clementine=
"Lady Nyra? You are up early. I am sure you are still a little groggy from last night. Please follow me, the Count has instructed me to care for your every need. Perhaps a little breakfast would be in order?" |
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Post by Alkor Centaris on Aug 26, 2014 20:32:48 GMT -8
What Alkor learned in the brief exchange between himself and the droid paled in significance next to the brilliant flash of object memory that came from a firm grip on the machine's exterior. He saw disjointed images of the Count from the inorganic shell's perspective, though no words came coherently. The face was not a familiar one, though the distinct presence the man exuded in the Force screamed of the respect some of the Jen'jidai may have expected. Such presumptions of Control helped them, Alkor postulated, to feel more in line with their beliefs. For some, objective made subjective easier.
The reality, as his once teacher C'thulu had told him, was that a man did not simply presume to be respected. It had been a quiet night, and filled with drink and laughter- something Alkor rarely shared with any man- but the words had struck a nerve in the Corellian. He found himself with a vast and profound respect for the Dead Man. Respect and control were not synonymous. Not in the way many concluded.
As the Force trance flowed away from him and the tangible world began to flood his senses again, Alkor let out a long breath that sounded not unlike a sigh. He took the necessary moment to adjust to his sight and regain his composure before taking another step toward the man he could now see bore the same face as the one from his visions. Ronin was an age old name within the annuls of the order, a former student of the Sage, though the story went back further than Alkor had cared to trace.
Reality had more grips upon their situation than history, and the other man had a great deal to show in the coming moments. Well, if he hoped the situation would not end on the end of one lightsaber or another, he had much to show. Alkor kept his thoughts and emotions to himself, despite the tempest of confusion that had plagued him only hours before. The significance of his actions were a weight he alone bore; Centaris was a man who preferred to have little known of him.
His hands reached up and slid the hood away from his face, revealing the youthful skin and dark brown hair that he had trimmed only recently- still long, by most accounts. His eyes, deep and violet as twilight, moved from Ronin to the grandeur of Carrania, notably absent of any appreciation or amusement. He could feel many things swirling about here, topical feelings that lay over a mass of ugly underbelly. Most of these things were inconsequential. He sensed a carefully guarded consideration probing over him. It was enough to prove the man bore the distrust of their broken brotherhood.
"The Highborn do love their towers," he observed offhandedly. It was a droll thing to say, and he knew it- by most rights, Alkor considered himself a droll man. At least, he did where the well-endowed were concerned. Embellishment was certainly a good tool of compensation after rebellion left one's world in shambles.
His eyes rested finally on the man called Ronin Nalju. "I have two questions for you, Count, and I will have the truth of both from you. If I am satisfied, I will leave you and keep my silence. The first: why did you abandon the Order?"
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Count Ronin Nalju
The Dark Jedi Order
Posts: 105
Affiliation: Aristocratic rule/Tyranny
Traffic Light: Blue
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Post by Count Ronin Nalju on Aug 27, 2014 18:38:34 GMT -8
What Alkor learned in the brief exchange between himself and the droid paled in significance next to the brilliant flash of object memory that came from a firm grip on the machine's exterior. He saw disjointed images of the Count from the inorganic shell's perspective, though no words came coherently. The face was not a familiar one, though the distinct presence the man exuded in the Force screamed of the respect some of the Jen'jidai may have expected. Such presumptions of Control helped them, Alkor postulated, to feel more in line with their beliefs. For some, objective made subjective easier. The reality, as his once teacher C'thulu had told him, was that a man did not simply presume to be respected. It had been a quiet night, and filled with drink and laughter- something Alkor rarely shared with any man- but the words had struck a nerve in the Corellian. He found himself with a vast and profound respect for the Dead Man. Respect and control were not synonymous. Not in the way many concluded. As the Force trance flowed away from him and the tangible world began to flood his senses again, Alkor let out a long breath that sounded not unlike a sigh. He took the necessary moment to adjust to his sight and regain his composure before taking another step toward the man he could now see bore the same face as the one from his visions. Ronin was an age old name within the annuls of the order, a former student of the Sage, though the story went back further than Alkor had cared to trace. Reality had more grips upon their situation than history, and the other man had a great deal to show in the coming moments. Well, if he hoped the situation would not end on the end of one lightsaber or another, he had much to show. Alkor kept his thoughts and emotions to himself, despite the tempest of confusion that had plagued him only hours before. The significance of his actions were a weight he alone bore; Centaris was a man who preferred to have little known of him. His hands reached up and slid the hood away from his face, revealing the youthful skin and dark brown hair that he had trimmed only recently- still long, by most accounts. His eyes, deep and violet as twilight, moved from Ronin to the grandeur of Carrania, notably absent of any appreciation or amusement. He could feel many things swirling about here, topical feelings that lay over a mass of ugly underbelly. Most of these things were inconsequential. He sensed a carefully guarded consideration probing over him. It was enough to prove the man bore the distrust of their broken brotherhood. "The Highborn do love their towers," he observed offhandedly. It was a droll thing to say, and he knew it- by most rights, Alkor considered himself a droll man. At least, he did where the well-endowed were concerned. Embellishment was certainly a good tool of compensation after rebellion left one's world in shambles. His eyes rested finally on the man called Ronin Nalju. "I have two questions for you, Count, and I will have the truth of both from you. If I am satisfied, I will leave you and keep my silence. The first: why did you abandon the Order?"
*Ronin does the same and lowers his hood, revealing the telltale yellow and bloodshot eyes and pale skin that was synonymous with one who was touched deeply of the dark side. He could sense that he was giving Ronin the once over. Then he finally speaks. It was a droll and condescending statement of observation. It was clear to Ronin that Alkor had no appreciation for architecture or any love for nobility. That much was clear. All Ronin could do was smile.*
"Indeed, I suppose we do love our grandiose affinity for over-indulgence. A tool of the trade for being of noble blood."
*Not wasting anymore time, Alkor then hits him with two questions. The First stunned Ronin. But only for a moment.* *Abandon did he say? Ronin said to himself internally.*
"Abandon?" *Ronin repeated the question as the anger in him began to rise. He held it back quickly as he folded his arms across his chest. He looked down at his feet and then back at Alkor.* *The audacity this man possess'. The Lord Sovereign said he was droll and arrogant. But this...this is just insulting. I suppose he did not know so he can only assume.*
"Abandon you say?" *This was a rhetorical question. Ronin knew what he meant. All Ronin was doing was conveying that he did not appreciate the insult. He could not blame Alkor, to anyone else it may have very well seemed like he abandoned the Order.*
"I did no such thing. I only found out about the civil war after I had come back from a mission. As a matter of fact, William Reign tasked me with the mission himself to get Mygeeto, Serenno, and the Banking clans under our respected thumbs. The idea was to garner all the possible financial support to see things our way. It was a blackmail and Extortion attempt to make sure we were protected on several fronts. No one would dare take on an organization the has all the money in the galaxy. Or at least three quarters of it."
*Which was the truth. Had Ronin known about Hash's insurgency, he would have come back immediately.*
"I completed my mission successfully, but arrived just after he had committed seppuku before I could tell him the good news."
*Whether or not Alkor believed him, remained to be seen.*
"And for your second question?" |
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Post by Alkor Centaris on Aug 27, 2014 19:19:26 GMT -8
Secrets. Alkor kept vigilant watch over the man's mannerisms as he spoke, his face betraying nothing of his thoughts. Unlike his master, he did not have the gift for moving speech or inciting emotion in those listening. Instead, Alkor's skill manifested in insight, and in the ability to discern truth and conviction. Ronin's truth was one that set Alkor to deep contemplation.
His accusation was bred of uncertainty, and doubt- it was said, once- was absolved by knowledge. The secrets that the Jen'jidai had kept from one another were as audacious as the ones they shared among themselves. It made sense that Reign would have given one of his own an insurmountable task like the one Nalju had described.
The timeline fell into place fluidly, and the man's genuine anger toward the words made it seem more possible that the dignitary was being honest. Ah, Alkor thought as Ronin forfeited his knowledge of Reign's fate, that certainly gives things greater clarity.
Ronin was either to be saved or damned by his own tongue. Alkor would have delivered the news himself a moment later had the man been ignorant of it, but he had been saved the trouble. Instead, Alkor placed his left hand idly on his waist. "You have heard then," Alkor replied, "that the Sage, with his final act, severed the Code."
That was the question that truly tore the situation in two. His gaze held a tempered inquisition in them that scorched like a solar flare over a planet with no atmosphere. "What you intend to teach here," he said slowly, "if it is the Old Code, I will not allow it."
Concise and firm. "My master- a man who defeated even death- fell victim to that Code. It tore brothers apart. It drove a man as great as your own Master to destroy himself simply to unmake it." The black hilt of his restless reaver was visible now, dangerously close to his hand.
The implications of his words would hit like a ton of bricks on top of the information he had just relayed to Alkor. The Old Guard was gone, the old ways abolished. The things Nalju had done, they were for a lost cause. "Never fear, though," Alkor told him, "I want nothing of your spoils. What you fought for is yours to keep. I am not a man with great designs."
He waved a hand as if to dismiss Carannia, and all the worlds beyond. "Denounce that decrepit creed and become an Emperor in your own right." He felt no need to tell the other man what would happen if he refused. His presence there spoke for itself, and if Ronin were a man of means, he already knew about the others who had been hunted. "There were others I did not extend such an offer to," Alkor spoke nonchalantly, "consider it a kindness between Jen'jidai."
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Post by Nyra Rishtar on Aug 28, 2014 18:35:20 GMT -8
*Being that Ronin was pre-occupied at the moment, one of the servants was sent to make sure she was feeling well. A simple HRD, that he trusted with the duty of taking care of Nyra while she adjusted to the headaches that may or may not occur. After all, he did fix her issue of wanton bloodlust. But it was on par with a serious night of heavy drinking. The servant notices that the lady was out roaming the hall.*
=Clementine=
"Lady Nyra? You are up early. I am sure you are still a little groggy from last night. Please follow me, the Count has instructed me to care for your every need. Perhaps a little breakfast would be in order?" "So he sends a droid babysitter to watch me while he deals with other business. Breakfast sounds wonderful. I can't seem to recall the last time I ate." Actually she could. It was yesterday, atop the building Ronin had found her. For some reason remembering gave her bad headaches. It was like she was viewing a different person's memories, not being able to understand why the person who looked exactly like her was doing what she was doing. She was so different, and yet they had been the same person less than a few hours ago. Nyra rubbed her temple for another moment before moving her hand back down."What is Ronin doing? Plotting up some scheme to bring back his Order? I can sense others here. Not just the servants or those super soldiers." Her clear mind seemed to give her a clearer view of the world around her, not only through her eyes but her mind as well. It was, for lack of a better word, odd. Not something she was used to. |
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Count Ronin Nalju
The Dark Jedi Order
Posts: 105
Affiliation: Aristocratic rule/Tyranny
Traffic Light: Blue
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Post by Count Ronin Nalju on Aug 29, 2014 13:54:24 GMT -8
Secrets. Alkor kept vigilant watch over the man's mannerisms as he spoke, his face betraying nothing of his thoughts. Unlike his master, he did not have the gift for moving speech or inciting emotion in those listening. Instead, Alkor's skill manifested in insight, and in the ability to discern truth and conviction. Ronin's truth was one that set Alkor to deep contemplation. His accusation was bred of uncertainty, and doubt- it was said, once- was absolved by knowledge. The secrets that the Jen'jidai had kept from one another were as audacious as the ones they shared among themselves. It made sense that Reign would have given one of his own an insurmountable task like the one Nalju had described. The timeline fell into place fluidly, and the man's genuine anger toward the words made it seem more possible that the dignitary was being honest. Ah, Alkor thought as Ronin forfeited his knowledge of Reign's fate, that certainly gives things greater clarity.Ronin was either to be saved or damned by his own tongue. Alkor would have delivered the news himself a moment later had the man been ignorant of it, but he had been saved the trouble. Instead, Alkor placed his left hand idly on his waist. "You have heard then," Alkor replied, "that the Sage, with his final act, severed the Code." That was the question that truly tore the situation in two. His gaze held a tempered inquisition in them that scorched like a solar flare over a planet with no atmosphere. "What you intend to teach here," he said slowly, "if it is the Old Code, I will not allow it." Concise and firm. "My master- a man who defeated even death- fell victim to that Code. It tore brothers apart. It drove a man as great as your own Master to destroy himself simply to unmake it." The black hilt of his restless reaver was visible now, dangerously close to his hand. The implications of his words would hit like a ton of bricks on top of the information he had just relayed to Alkor. The Old Guard was gone, the old ways abolished. The things Nalju had done, they were for a lost cause. "Never fear, though," Alkor told him, "I want nothing of your spoils. What you fought for is yours to keep. I am not a man with great designs." He waved a hand as if to dismiss Carannia, and all the worlds beyond. "Denounce that decrepit creed and become an Emperor in your own right." He felt no need to tell the other man what would happen if he refused. His presence there spoke for itself, and if Ronin were a man of means, he already knew about the others who had been hunted. "There were others I did not extend such an offer to," Alkor spoke nonchalantly, "consider it a kindness between Jen'jidai."
*So the point emerges, Ronin muses to himself. He thinks me a possible traitor who has betrayed the final wishes of a great man. Still a great man by any measure. Even by today's standards.*
"Rest easy Jen'Jidai. Your...actions, that you deem justified, are unnecessary and superfluous. I appreciate your overwhelming and magnanimous mercy. I am truly unworthy."
*Ronin is sincere and bows to Alkor. A rarity like Alkor's kindness, so Ronin reciprocates the grand gesture.*
"I am teaching the Dark Jedi code, but not as we were taught it. We learned it as a religious creed, a mantra that guided our every movement. I am teaching it the way it should have been taught. As a philosophy. As an Ideology. Not as a structured dogma that stymies potential growth and freedom. I use it as a guidance utensil or a teaching mechanism to help understand how to better control ones emotions as Xendor had intended when he first came up with the Jen'Jidai Codex. I also utilize Palpatines teachings about focusing hate and anger."
*Ronin makes sure he is understood and that Alkor has no need to continue any feelings of being Judge, Jury, and Executioner.*
"And I do this, to honor the Jen'Jidai Sage. For setting us free. Just like you hunt down those who refuse to adhere to the Lord Sovereigns final wishes. We both seek a way to honor our respected Masters. Especially after such a tremendous loss. Lost and without purpose, it seems the dark side has guided us back to fulfill our destinies."
*Ronin uncrosses his arms, puts up his hood again, crosses his arms again, and walks down the stairs to meet Alkor at his level.*
"If you can believe it or not, Reign and I debated the Dark Jedi Code often. I often said that a Creed treated like a religious dogma, in a cloistered environment, takes away the potential for true growth and could lead to misinterpretation. He would always laugh and dismissed my statement as paranoia. It seems my paranoia was justified. Hash proved those feelings true. Just once I wished those feelings to be untrue."
*Ronin begins to walks past Alkor, leaving his back unprotected, his arms folded onto his chest. A gesture of trust from one brother to another. Letting Alkor know that Ronin intended to walk the Estate grounds as they continued to judge each others intentions.*
"Walk with me brother. I'm sure you have much to share. Your arrival here is no coincidence."
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Count Ronin Nalju
The Dark Jedi Order
Posts: 105
Affiliation: Aristocratic rule/Tyranny
Traffic Light: Blue
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Post by Count Ronin Nalju on Aug 29, 2014 14:19:40 GMT -8
*Being that Ronin was pre-occupied at the moment, one of the servants was sent to make sure she was feeling well. A simple HRD, that he trusted with the duty of taking care of Nyra while she adjusted to the headaches that may or may not occur. After all, he did fix her issue of wanton bloodlust. But it was on par with a serious night of heavy drinking. The servant notices that the lady was out roaming the hall.*
=Clementine=
"Lady Nyra? You are up early. I am sure you are still a little groggy from last night. Please follow me, the Count has instructed me to care for your every need. Perhaps a little breakfast would be in order?" "So he sends a droid babysitter to watch me while he deals with other business. Breakfast sounds wonderful. I can't seem to recall the last time I ate." Actually she could. It was yesterday, atop the building Ronin had found her. For some reason remembering gave her bad headaches. It was like she was viewing a different person's memories, not being able to understand why the person who looked exactly like her was doing what she was doing. She was so different, and yet they had been the same person less than a few hours ago. Nyra rubbed her temple for another moment before moving her hand back down."What is Ronin doing? Plotting up some scheme to bring back his Order? I can sense others here. Not just the servants or those super soldiers." Her clear mind seemed to give her a clearer view of the world around her, not only through her eyes but her mind as well. It was, for lack of a better word, odd. Not something she was used to.
=Clementine=
"Please follow me then Lady Nyra."
*She takes Lady Nyra by the arm like they were teenage friends.*
"I am sorry if my artificiality causes you distress Lady Nyra, as well as Count Nalju's absence. He wanted to make sure your every need was taken care of precisely as you wished it. Who better than me?"
*Clementine walks her to the kitchen, where a five star chef and his team prepared morning breakfast.*
"Ask for anything you wish, the chef and his kitchen staff are at your beck and call." |
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Post by Alkor Centaris on Aug 29, 2014 18:46:13 GMT -8
Alkor watched Ronin move in silence as he spoke, noting the accents of authority that the man adopted. Shades of Eversio overlapped the man's mannerisms, and Centaris let out a snort from his nostrils. He could see the breeding of a politician right down to the way Ronin threw his body language around. Assertive, pointed, almost poignant in its veiled purpose.
Wonderful, Alkor mused, another creature of subtlety. As if the galaxy needed more. He offered no immediate response to the Count, instead making a gesture with his hand for the man to lead on. Alkor lifted his own hood up, shadows wreathing his countenance.
His hand, close enough to his blade to draw it with half a thought and ignite it with a reflexive motion, fell to his side useless. For now, he would watch, and he would listen.
Two hooded men now stalked the morning streets of the great city, and for the first time, fear struck the hearts of men who had fancied themselves untouchable. Alkor felt waves of it with every cliquish crowd they passed. Conversations halted until they passed. Eyes glued to their backs. Whispers paved their wake. "An... interesting herd you keep, Count."
Alkor kept his observations short, concise, and minimal. He was not the first Jen'jidai to harbor a distaste for weakness. It could be argued that all players had their purpose to play, but Alkor rejected the games of men who devalued freedom so.
On the other edge of the same knife, men who did not deserve freedom were not entitled to it. He wondered where all these specks of dust fell in the grand scheme Ronin had plotted.
It was not until well after his invitation to speak freely that Alkor even considered the implications of Nalju's statement. "Your coming here is not a coincidence." Alkor half smirked, though it was an empty humor he found.
Nothing ever was coincidence. Alkor had learned that. When he spoke at last, the crowd had been diminished, and they were the only two for a great distance.
"For the sake of knowledge, and for understanding, I will hear you. As for my part, there is little to say, and fewer things to be done. I was charged long ago with rooting out the enemies of the Order. A vow that goes with me to the grave- no different than the Jen'jidai who bound me to it."
He spoke of Hevn, now, another Jen'jidai who had been lost to some fate. Beneath his sleeve, he felt the pulsating dark energies that coursed through his very flesh. His fingers twitched in grim reminder of the blessing and curse that had defined his very purpose. If Ronin gleaned a quick look at the fingers of that hand, he would see where the flesh had been flayed from the arm. The blood and bone had dried out, though unholy green light shone in runic symbols where the vow he took sustained the damage, so long as his resolve never wavered. It had been a punishment, but became a lesson in short time. The pain had lessened after Hevn's disappearance, but it would never fade.
Pain was fuel for power.
The full extent of any damage was Alkor's secret to keep, of course. Only small fringes of peeled away flesh were visible, and he kept dark gloves over both hands to diminish attention toward it. For all outward appearances, Alkor was a fit, youthful lad without the taint of darkness over him.
His master had devoted his life to the studies of the dark arts, and his original body was mutilated and warped beyond repair. Alkor had never seen it- the entire thing was like a legend. With Alkor, he had taken a departure from the occult. Centaris' hatred of the vast mystery was a defining feature.
It was easy to teach a man filled to overflowing with hatred how to direct it. It had been more challenging to control it. After that though, Alkor had become excellent in matters of self control.
"Speak."
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Post by Nyra Rishtar on Aug 30, 2014 16:32:46 GMT -8
When Nyra's arm was taken by the HRD droid, the first thought that crossed her mind was to break the physical contact off. But, she did not. While she did not share in the droid's friendly disposition, it was a better alternative than wandering around aimlessly and getting into trouble. She walked in stride with the droid.
"Distress is not the correct word. More like...disappointment. I was hoping to see Ronin. It's not everyday a girl gets her mind played with. A little explanation at what he found and....fixed...would have been better than a droid."
Nyra looked around the kitchen and then to the chef.
"A fruit smoothie. Heavy on the camby berries..."
Within a few minutes the fruit was blended, and the smoothie handed to the slightly more sane Nyra. She took a sip and smiled. She looked to the droid, Clementine.
"What makes a droid so capable of watching a sociopath after a night of mental manipulation? A dozen other people, all preferably tall, muscled men, could do just as good."
Nyra sits down in a chair in the kitchen and crosses her legs, sipping from the smoothie.
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Count Ronin Nalju
The Dark Jedi Order
Posts: 105
Affiliation: Aristocratic rule/Tyranny
Traffic Light: Blue
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Post by Count Ronin Nalju on Sept 3, 2014 19:40:51 GMT -8
Alkor watched Ronin move in silence as he spoke, noting the accents of authority that the man adopted. Shades of Eversio overlapped the man's mannerisms, and Centaris let out a snort from his nostrils. He could see the breeding of a politician right down to the way Ronin threw his body language around. Assertive, pointed, almost poignant in its veiled purpose. Wonderful, Alkor mused, another creature of subtlety. As if the galaxy needed more. He offered no immediate response to the Count, instead making a gesture with his hand for the man to lead on. Alkor lifted his own hood up, shadows wreathing his countenance. His hand, close enough to his blade to draw it with half a thought and ignite it with a reflexive motion, fell to his side useless. For now, he would watch, and he would listen. Two hooded men now stalked the morning streets of the great city, and for the first time, fear struck the hearts of men who had fancied themselves untouchable. Alkor felt waves of it with every cliquish crowd they passed. Conversations halted until they passed. Eyes glued to their backs. Whispers paved their wake. "An... interesting herd you keep, Count." Alkor kept his observations short, concise, and minimal. He was not the first Jen'jidai to harbor a distaste for weakness. It could be argued that all players had their purpose to play, but Alkor rejected the games of men who devalued freedom so. On the other edge of the same knife, men who did not deserve freedom were not entitled to it. He wondered where all these specks of dust fell in the grand scheme Ronin had plotted. It was not until well after his invitation to speak freely that Alkor even considered the implications of Nalju's statement. "Your coming here is not a coincidence." Alkor half smirked, though it was an empty humor he found. Nothing ever was coincidence. Alkor had learned that. When he spoke at last, the crowd had been diminished, and they were the only two for a great distance. "For the sake of knowledge, and for understanding, I will hear you. As for my part, there is little to say, and fewer things to be done. I was charged long ago with rooting out the enemies of the Order. A vow that goes with me to the grave- no different than the Jen'jidai who bound me to it." He spoke of Hevn, now, another Jen'jidai who had been lost to some fate. Beneath his sleeve, he felt the pulsating dark energies that coursed through his very flesh. His fingers twitched in grim reminder of the blessing and curse that had defined his very purpose. If Ronin gleaned a quick look at the fingers of that hand, he would see where the flesh had been flayed from the arm. The blood and bone had dried out, though unholy green light shone in runic symbols where the vow he took sustained the damage, so long as his resolve never wavered. It had been a punishment, but became a lesson in short time. The pain had lessened after Hevn's disappearance, but it would never fade. Pain was fuel for power. The full extent of any damage was Alkor's secret to keep, of course. Only small fringes of peeled away flesh were visible, and he kept dark gloves over both hands to diminish attention toward it. For all outward appearances, Alkor was a fit, youthful lad without the taint of darkness over him. His master had devoted his life to the studies of the dark arts, and his original body was mutilated and warped beyond repair. Alkor had never seen it- the entire thing was like a legend. With Alkor, he had taken a departure from the occult. Centaris' hatred of the vast mystery was a defining feature. It was easy to teach a man filled to overflowing with hatred how to direct it. It had been more challenging to control it. After that though, Alkor had become excellent in matters of self control. "Speak."
"They are sheep. I...am merely their shepherd. Without me, they are lost and powerless. Without them, I cannot claim the title of Lord Sovereign. They fear me, but they fear worse without me. So it is a symbiotic relationship. Poetic almost."
*Ronin could pick up on the disgust Alkor felt for them. He was disgusted at the freedom they passed up on, but at the same time realized that not all were worthy of true freedom. Ironic. They valued freedom but gave it up for security and protection. Something that made Ronin smile. The talk shifted to another topic. Alkor's role in all this. Ronin listened intently to Alkor. Even when he repeats Ronins words.*
"This duty you were charged with, I do not wish to impede it. Since you mention knowledge and understanding is what you seek, allow me to elaborate. It seems you are tasked with the duty to weed out the true enemies of the Order. I seek only to aid you in whatever capacity you deem fit to carry out this sworn duty. My resources are vast and I would be foolish to let this meeting of Jen'jidai to go to waste. In short, I offer my planet to be your own. Even though you have a distaste for blue-bloods, Serenno will serve as your Headquarters. If you allow it. For I require your aid to rebuild and reform our Order. Even as you scoff, our meeting here is no chance meeting at all. Would you not agree?"
*The topic shifts again and Ronin takes note of the green glow on Alkors hand. Ronin never understood alchemy. Respected its power, but understood it very little. Since Ronin was a prodigal telepath, he found alchemy to be a waste of time. The power that the mind possessed was what Ronin truly respected. Though he harbored no ill will towards it. Besides, how can one focus magic if their mind was distracted and assaulted?*
"Although, I never met with Jen'Jidai Hevn, I have seen his work. My Master always spoke very highly of him. Even Plaga was impressed with his natural affinity over alchemy. I suppose it was him who did such a thing to your hand? Even though I cannot see it, I can feel his particular brand of alchemy has left a mark on your hand. It must pain you so. But such pain is power. Just like knowledge is power. Agreed?"
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Count Ronin Nalju
The Dark Jedi Order
Posts: 105
Affiliation: Aristocratic rule/Tyranny
Traffic Light: Blue
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Post by Count Ronin Nalju on Sept 3, 2014 20:04:57 GMT -8
When Nyra's arm was taken by the HRD droid, the first thought that crossed her mind was to break the physical contact off. But, she did not. While she did not share in the droid's friendly disposition, it was a better alternative than wandering around aimlessly and getting into trouble. She walked in stride with the droid."Distress is not the correct word. More like...disappointment. I was hoping to see Ronin. It's not everyday a girl gets her mind played with. A little explanation at what he found and....fixed...would have been better than a droid." Nyra looked around the kitchen and then to the chef."A fruit smoothie. Heavy on the camby berries..." Within a few minutes the fruit was blended, and the smoothie handed to the slightly more sane Nyra. She took a sip and smiled. She looked to the droid, Clementine."What makes a droid so capable of watching a sociopath after a night of mental manipulation? A dozen other people, all preferably tall, muscled men, could do just as good." Nyra sits down in a chair in the kitchen and crosses her legs, sipping from the smoothie.
=Clementine=
"I am sorry Lady Nyra. I do not have the capacity to answer that. I was only given the task to see to your needs. As for what he found and fixed, only Count Nalju can answer that."
*As Nyra drinks the smoothie more, Clementine notes her smile and returns it with an eagerness of a child.*
"This is Nalju Estate Lady Nyra. Not some male strip club. There is no one more qualified than me. I am versed in well over thousands of different etiquette routines. Even for sociopaths. Whatever your desire, I was told to accommodate. If big muscly men is your desire, I would be happy to arrange such a meeting for you."
*Clementine goes through her databanks to find the nearest male escort service should that be her true desire.*
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Post by Alkor Centaris on Sept 3, 2014 21:07:21 GMT -8
Alkor stared in silence at the austerity of the ground. His gaze hardened. Ronin offered his planet as shelter, as a fortress from which to commit atrocities in the name of their cause. His lips twisted into a grim smile. "To rebuild." He repeated the words with a dryness in his voice. Sobriety that he could not account for washed over him.
Then, Ronin mentioned Hevn and his alchemical prowess. Violet firelight rose to match the other man's virulent golden gaze. He stared for a long time without saying a word. Slowly, Alkor pulled the dark attire from his chest, then arm. The rent, lifeless flesh that hung from the upper bicep peeled away when he did so, and he tore the remnant of it and tossed it carelessly to the side.
The black and green pulsating energy moved through sinew, muscle, and over bone where once a healthy arm should have been. Alkor slipped the glove off to reveal his left hand, miraculously unaffected by the horrible mutation. "Pain is nothing," he recited. "This is just a symbol of my devotion."
He ran a hand absently over the ghoulish appendage, oblivious to the terror of those looking on. He stared in appreciation of the darkness that converged there, a testament to the greatness of those who came before. When he finally looked up at Nalju again, he spoke.
"I have no place in a rebirth. I can only destroy." He turned his gaze toward a woman, staring down at his arm in muted horror. He sighed. "Knowing that, what would you ask of me?"
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Post by Nyra Rishtar on Sept 12, 2014 18:43:24 GMT -8
*The smoothie is made quickly and professionally, when Nyra expresses disappointment, Clementine frowns at this. This was not her place to explain. She found organics frustrating. As much as an HRD could become frustrated anyways.*
=Clementine=
"I am sorry Lady Nyra. I do not have the capacity to answer that. I was only given the task to see to your needs. As for what he found and fixed, only Count Nalju can answer that."
*As Nyra drinks the smoothie more, Clementine notes her smile and returns it with an eagerness of a child.*
"This is Nalju Estate Lady Nyra. Not some male strip club. There is no one more qualified than me. I am versed in well over thousands of different etiquette routines. Even for sociopaths. Whatever your desire, I was told to accommodate. If big muscly men is your desire, I would be happy to arrange such a meeting for you."
*Clementine goes through her databanks to find the nearest male escort service should that be her true desire.*
"Exactly. Which is why I would like to see him at the earliest available time he is available." Saying it like she needed an appointment was strange. Not even a full day ago if Nyra had wanted to see someone she would have probably tore through the HRD and screamed out for answers. Now, she was much more calm. She put her hand to her head again. She knew what she would have done, and did the near complete opposite. This would take some getting used to."It's a joke. I just need something to take my mind off of things. Sitting around here is not accomplishing anything of the sort." |
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Count Ronin Nalju
The Dark Jedi Order
Posts: 105
Affiliation: Aristocratic rule/Tyranny
Traffic Light: Blue
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Post by Count Ronin Nalju on Sept 15, 2014 21:11:20 GMT -8
Alkor stared in silence at the austerity of the ground. His gaze hardened. Ronin offered his planet as shelter, as a fortress from which to commit atrocities in the name of their cause. His lips twisted into a grim smile. "To rebuild." He repeated the words with a dryness in his voice. Sobriety that he could not account for washed over him. Then, Ronin mentioned Hevn and his alchemical prowess. Violet firelight rose to match the other man's virulent golden gaze. He stared for a long time without saying a word. Slowly, Alkor pulled the dark attire from his chest, then arm. The rent, lifeless flesh that hung from the upper bicep peeled away when he did so, and he tore the remnant of it and tossed it carelessly to the side. The black and green pulsating energy moved through sinew, muscle, and over bone where once a healthy arm should have been. Alkor slipped the glove off to reveal his left hand, miraculously unaffected by the horrible mutation. "Pain is nothing," he recited. "This is just a symbol of my devotion." He ran a hand absently over the ghoulish appendage, oblivious to the terror of those looking on. He stared in appreciation of the darkness that converged there, a testament to the greatness of those who came before. When he finally looked up at Nalju again, he spoke. "I have no place in a rebirth. I can only destroy." He turned his gaze toward a woman, staring down at his arm in muted horror. He sighed. "Knowing that, what would you ask of me?"
*A truly unnerving sight, he says internally to himself. Remarkable as it is unnerving, Hevn was indeed unparalleled in his craft. The only exception would be Plaga of course.*
"A terrifying sight to behold. To the uninitiated."
*The affect on the populace will have them spreading rumors about the company I keep soon enough. It is not something seen everyday, he thinks. But it may work in my favor in my resolve to protect this planet.*
"But you absolutely do have a place in rebirth. How can something new take place if the old stagnates and stymies its potential? How can a new foundation be built with the old guard still in place. You have a narrow view brother. When a forest grows too wild, a purging fire takes hold and restores it back into balance. I see you as that purging fire. Should the old ways arise in the new order, it should be you who cuts them down before it grows out of control. As you were charged to do so by another. That, is all I ask of you. To be that purging fire in the name of the new Order that William Reign bestowed upon us with his death."
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Count Ronin Nalju
The Dark Jedi Order
Posts: 105
Affiliation: Aristocratic rule/Tyranny
Traffic Light: Blue
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Post by Count Ronin Nalju on Sept 24, 2014 18:31:42 GMT -8
*The smoothie is made quickly and professionally, when Nyra expresses disappointment, Clementine frowns at this. This was not her place to explain. She found organics frustrating. As much as an HRD could become frustrated anyways.*
=Clementine=
"I am sorry Lady Nyra. I do not have the capacity to answer that. I was only given the task to see to your needs. As for what he found and fixed, only Count Nalju can answer that."
*As Nyra drinks the smoothie more, Clementine notes her smile and returns it with an eagerness of a child.*
"This is Nalju Estate Lady Nyra. Not some male strip club. There is no one more qualified than me. I am versed in well over thousands of different etiquette routines. Even for sociopaths. Whatever your desire, I was told to accommodate. If big muscly men is your desire, I would be happy to arrange such a meeting for you."
*Clementine goes through her databanks to find the nearest male escort service should that be her true desire.*
"Exactly. Which is why I would like to see him at the earliest available time he is available." Saying it like she needed an appointment was strange. Not even a full day ago if Nyra had wanted to see someone she would have probably tore through the HRD and screamed out for answers. Now, she was much more calm. She put her hand to her head again. She knew what she would have done, and did the near complete opposite. This would take some getting used to."It's a joke. I just need something to take my mind off of things. Sitting around here is not accomplishing anything of the sort."
=Clementine=
"I will see what I can do. The Lord Sovereign does as he pleases, so it is very difficult to keep him to a set schedule. I do know that in a short while he will be meeting with delegates of other planets very soon. For what, I do not have the distinct pleasure of knowing."
*When Nyra explains that she was joking, Clementine runs through her databanks and fakes an awkward laugh. It is painfully obvious she does not understand.*
"Forgive me if I am not performing my duties adequately. Is there something else you might prefer?" |
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Post by Jeriko di Agresta on Jan 27, 2015 8:26:52 GMT -8
Deep into the rainforests on the planet of Serenno rests the expansive mansion of Jeriko di Agresto where he makes his home. A black door blocks the entrance, it bares no handle, nor latch or key hole, only the symbol of the now defunct Black Guard, a radical off-shoot of the former Dark Jedi Order. If one opens the door, they shall find a set of obsidian stairs, winding upwards into the mansion.
The 9th, the 13th and the 21st steps are marked with five pointed stars, encased in a circle of runes and their nature is that of a deep crimson. The walls on either side of the stairs are bare, save for the placement of torches at seemingly random intervals. Upon reaching the 23rd step, one shall find yet another door. Like it's cohort, this door is the color of charcoal. However, this door holds the image of a single eye in the center of a red rose.
Beyond this door lies the personal chambers of the reclusive aristocrat. His chamber is spacious and round. The dark wood floors have many sections that are covered in deep purple carpets. Black tapestries hang from the walls and the windows are cut from an azure glass, giving the room a feeling of night. Torches hang from the walls but burn within colored lanterns, casting a golden hue upon the dusk themed chamber.
In the center of the chamber is a desk made of a dark maroon wood. Pieces of parchment lay in neat piles next to fine wells of ink. Several large forest green candles burn from a metal structure which carries their weight. There are three drawers upon the left side of the desk. The first contains invoices from various businesses, a tin of fine cigaros and a bottle of whiskey. The second contains an electrum plated ripper, 45. cal with a worn grip. The third drawer is the only one to have a lock and within it is the journal of Jeriko. this journal is of a fine red leather and it's pages are worn and hold the scent of a book that has been read over and over again. However, this journal does not contain the thoughts of Jeriko, nor the daily activities or reflections of an average life. This book contains the exact details of every person Jeriko has ever placed under the knife. It contains a portrait of the victim's life through the eyes of a masterful assassin. It contains pictures of them, walking through the city, eating with friends, hanging from rafters and meeting their final, gruesome end. Furthermore it contains the thoughts the victim had, right before their life was stripped from them, an obsession of the mysterious and wealthy Dark Jedi and failed Sith. To peer into the mind of the target, fragile seconds before the end. A book of evidence, linking him to countless deaths, and enough evidence to prove that his "work" was just and the punishment he dealt, deserved. Jeriko never killed for sport but he never said he didn't receive any joy from it.
This was something that he had learned from his discoveries into the ruins of the Villa Obscurum. He studied the work of Nocturnus so closely and so carefully that he practiced for long hours so that he could continue the tradition that Nocturnus had started. A shame, he thought, that Nocturnus went missing around the same time that C'thulu and Eversio were killed. He wondered what, if anything, had happened to the man but from the intelligence he could gather, not many had ever heard of Nocturnus and most believed it was propagandist prattle from the Dark Jedi Order. A fabricated piece of propaganda to tamper with the psyche of their enemies and to keep the locals on Muunlinist in line. But Jeriko knew better. He had the journal of Nocturnus in his hand and had since added to it. Jeriko knew the man was real and roamed this galaxy almost a quarter of a century ago.
A second obsession of the Dark Jedi, was the former Dark Jedi Order and retrieving as much from the ruins of the Villa Obscurum and Asgard, two former temples of the Dark Jedi Order as possible. These ruins which were rumored to house countless tomes of the mighty C'thulu and lightsabers of the deceased Eversio, Lahash de Fortia and William Reign. Jeriko believed that these men were as great as many claimed but they were flawed. The problem, Jeriko believed, was not that the Order went too far but that it had not gone far enough. He believed it to be possible that an Order could be created and allowed to remain over the passage of time if only the Dark Jedi Order were capable of rooting out the putrid filth of the universe and if it kept membership low. Quality, over quantity, so to speak. The problem with the great men and women of the past Dark Jedi Order was that they were surrounded externally by the worthless Jedi and the entirely too lawless Sith. And internally, there were too many students who could never, and would never, realize their potential.
Behind a fake wall gave way to a small alcove where Jeriko kept the lightsaber retrieved from Naboo where Eversio was said to have perished. In this alcove were the countless tomes and feelings of C'thulu on the Dark Arts, Spirit Transference and one particularly interesting piece of parchment was the last entry of C'thulu on his real thoughts on the Dark Jedi Order. Jeriko ignored it, for the most part, and had only ever read it entirely twice. That was over twenty-five years ago since C'thulu, Eversio, William Reign and so many others drew their last breath in this universe and Jeriko believed the galaxy was worse off without their presence. The universe would be better with a revival of the Dark Jedi Order if it could be done *correctly* and only he deemed himself as the appropriate person to oversee and enact this resurrection.
Jeriko, the wealthy and reclusive aristocrat, sat in his mansion, behind his desk, busily researching the next target. The next "project" which must be purged from the universe. The very existence of this person was an affront to the otherwise pure, just and balanced universe that the Dark Jedi teachings conclusively showed was possible.
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Post by Jeriko di Agresta on Jan 27, 2015 13:56:12 GMT -8
As quickly as he started writing his notes on his next "project", Jeriko received a video call. He peered down and noticed that it was from his company's Chief Operating Officer. Jeriko was born into immense wealth but had since made a sizable amount for himself through his business Agresta Enterprises. The company specialized in engineering initially before also incorporating mining and shipments of various raw materials to other, harder to get to, planets in the Unknown Region. After all, he was going out to find the temple of Asgard and figured he would kill two birds with two stones, so to speak, and thought it a great business opportunity to extend the reach of Agresta Enterprises.
And it was this mentality that drew his attention to Jabiim. He would tie up some loose ends of his earlier life and expand his business ventures into Jabiim. The research and development branch of the company was working on a way to try to make it so repsulor craft might be able to travel in and out of the planet through a very lucrative contract with the government of the planet.
Answering the video call, Agresta was greeted with the image of his Chief Operating Officer, Xarel Lareto. Xarel was a shrewd businessman and brilliantly cut throat in a way that Agresta admired. He was not showy nor seemingly devious or unstable. However, his nature was one of ruthlessness when it came to business, deals and securing funds and capital.
"Yes?"
==Xarel Lareto==
"Everything is on schedule for your arrival to Jabiim. A representative from the government should be there to greet you after your insistence to not meet with higher ranking officials... at least in public. There's a State Dinner a few hours after you arrive. They're eager to get the project underway and believe it'll do them some good and give them some much needed...boost in approval from the people."
Jeriko smirked and replied
"Great. I'm leaving in a little bit and will be there as soon as possible. After we secure this contract, I want you to let it slip to what's left of Reign Enterprises. The loss of this contract, for them, should have them open to finally selling the company..."
Xarel laughed briefly and replied to his boss
"We'll see, Jeriko. They've been stubborn on that and, from what I heard, operating at quite the loss each fiscal year. That company has not been the same since William Reign's death and anyone who knows anything about business, that business, knows it to be true."
Jeriko laughed and looked down at the photo he had recently obtained of the aged Jedi Master Mikaelian, his "project", on Barab I and then back to Lareto.
"It'll be a good trip, Xarel. For plenty of reasons...All right, X, I have to run. I have work I need to do before I leave."
==Xarel==
"Alright, Boss Man, take it easy and have a good trip. We'll chat when you get back."
And with that, the video call was disconnected. Not many moments later, a silent alarm went off in his room with video to outside of his mansion. Instantly, Jeriko recognized the person. It was a "tracker" he had hired. One of the best in the cosmos. A younger woman, a year or two younger than he, named Essa Samara. She was a Zeltros. Quickly, Jeriko rose from his chair and towards the door.
"Essa, welcome. Come in."
Essa walked through the threshold of the large, impressive, mansion and ran her fingers lightly across the top of Jeriko's shoulder.
"Mr. di Agresta, you're as handsome as ever..."
Jeriko smiled
"Essa, darling, I trust you are here because you have some, new, pressing information for me."
Essa replied with a smirk
"The old man is on the move. He left Barab on a public transport bound for Jabiim."
di Agresta was noticeably stunned
"The old man...has left the planet where he hasn't moved from in who-knows-how long to go *back* to Jabiim?... He started to pace "...really now...interesting. It's like he's sending me a message. It's as though he wants me to kill him...Okay, Mikaelian, okay...I'll oblige." Jeriko went to a bureau near the front door and took out the money for Essa. "Great work, Essa. This is for you."
She laughed as she grabbed the money "Finally! I was wondering when you would pay me. I had to have friends spot me on the trip back here from Muunilist. It's not cheap hitchhiking your way through the galaxy when your funds run out..."
Jeriko looked worried "Friends? What friends, Essa? We had an arrangement that this was to be done in silence." Essa tried quickly to downplay what she had said "It was, it totally was. I told them I was on Serenno to sight-see, slack off for a little amongst the rich and powerful. That's all. They thought nothing of it. I didn't tell them anything about you or where I was or anything. I swear. Now..." She tried changing the subject as she walked up to the wealthy, reclusive, di Agresta "...there are other ways to thank me, you know?"
"You're right. I'm sorry. You know how I can get sometimes..." di Agresta grinned while Essa replied, "I know! It's ridiculous sometimes. Come here!"
The two were soon in a passionate embrace, kissing and before long di Agresta's hand came up, from inside of his cape, with a syringe which he drove into the neck of the Zeltros tracker. Her eyes went wide before she passed out and hit the floor.
Jeriko dragged the seemingly lifeless body toward the back room on the first floor before picking her up and throwing her on his shoulder. There was yet another fake wall in this premise which led downstairs. In this basement were countless tools for torture and two unique rooms off the back for even more, as Jeriko liked to call it, enhanced interrogation. There was a human male suspended from the ceiling wearing little but there was noticeable and significant amounts of blood smear across his person. He looked barely conscious and near death. When he saw Jeriko enter the basement, he trembled with fear.
Jeriko, with Essa draped over him, walked into one of the back rooms and it was not long before just Jeriko reemerged, slamming the door behind him. A discernible locking sound could be heard.
"I'll deal with that later." Jeriko said before his attention turned to the male human dangling from the ceiling not more than a few feet away. "Ah...Reiolando. I had forgotten about you. I think it's time to end your senseless suffering." Reiolando, gagged, could muster no reply that was coherent or able to be understood. His eyes rolled back and forth as his head nodded to and fro, seemingly on the verge of unconsciousness. He was not in a good condition.
Jeriko took out his journal, the red leather slapped the cold steel of the long table before him, in between himself and his prisoner. "After some research, it turns out you're right. You didn't tell Reign Enterprises about my dealings. Sorry, chap. I guess that's my fault. Seems you were just in the wrong place at the wrong time. For what it's worth, many people really do miss that insightful investigative journalism of yours. It hasn't been the same at the HNN since your disappearance." Jeriko reached into the sleeve of his shirt and pulled out a five inch knife and, using the Force, sent the knife plunging into the chest of his prisoner, dealing a fatal blow. However barely seconds upon the cold steel penetrating the skin of the captured human, Jeriko unleashed Drain Knowledge to record the last thoughts of Reiolando. The prisoner screamed in anguish and Jeriko did nothing. He simply stood and observed, recording the last thought of this man. Not an innocent, Jeriko would say, for no one is innocent in this galaxy. Not a single person. We're all guilty of something and it is up to the strong to cull the herd of the weak.
Upon Reiolando's final breath, Jeriko ceased in the usage of Drain Knowledge and made for the journal that lay on the table before him and flipped to the page he had already designated for the captured prey of his. "...'Final thought: 'Let me die, let me die, let it all stop. Please. Let this stop.'...it did, Reiolando. It finally stopped. I made the suffering cease for you."
After completing his journal entry, Jeriko took a big breath and stared at the lifeless body of Reiolando hanging before him. Jeriko removed him from the rafters and placed him on the slab that was attached to the incinerator also located in the basement. Before long, Reiolando's body was a part of the fire that would cleanse him from his fleshly sufferings. There was a noticeable grin on the face of the reclusive di Agresta watching his victim being consumed by the fires until he realized that he must make haste in order to make his appointment on Jabiim. There was other business to conduct.
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