Public Awakening.... (Open to 2)

[Xephirus Cloud]

A holofeed plays in the background of a cantina located somewhere in the Outer-Rim. The holonews plays talking about some terrible political conflict on some offworld location.

The news anchor speaks in a grave tone: "I just don't understand the reason for the Destru.... Kzzzzztt..."

The holofeed cuts out as the Nautolan bartender turns off the holonews with a huff, "Always destruction, always conflict..."

An adult male humanoid, cloaked in dark robes, sitting at the Cantina bar doesn't hear the bartender at all. Everything seems to stand still in that moment. He looks up from his drink at the bartender. "D-destru...?"

Everything rushes back to him in that moment, as if awakening from a long slumber. A flood of memories rushes back to him. He was Destru in one of his many lives. Darth Destru. He was a powerful and feared Sith Lord once; many, many eons ago. He remembered everything. He remembered the battles he fought, the women he loved, the person he became. He remembered becoming a Joiner to the Killik hive-mind and his consciousness leading them through years past his mortal body. He realized what he was as he looked down at his hand as it shifted into different forms. He was a Joiner shape-shifter (a Shi'ido) with his own life, his consciousness taken over by the powerful will of Destru... of.... Zephyrus Cloud.

He was both Zephyrus Cloud and not. He was this Shi'ido... and he was not. He was the consciousness of the failed Killik hive had only wanted to survive so it chose the most powerful will it could muster.

The weight of this sudden realization crushed and empowered the being now known as Xephirus. He realized everyone he knew had been left in the past. He remembered all of the horrible atrocities he had committed in order to gain power to bring his love back from death and realized he had failed.... or Zephyrus had failed....

The being Xephirus rises from the bar and heads for the door in a stupor.

The Nautolan Bartender pursues him, "Your tab!"

Xephirus looks at him and shakes his head begging him with his eyes not to pursue it further and continues for the door.

The Nautolan Bartender grabs Xephirus' arm and the moments that follow seem like a blur. A sickly-green saber activates.... the Nautolan falls face first with a burning hole in his chest. Local patrons rise and blaster bolts fly through the air. Chaos ensues for five galactic standard seconds and the next moment it is eerily quiet, save for the hum of a lightsaber and the sound of it deactivating. Xephirus walks out of the bar stepping over the dead bartender.

He looks around the quiet street and moves towards the nearest spaceport.

 

[Lyssa Clauda]

Lyssa wasn't planning to stay long in the outer rim, or in this back water spaceport she found herself in. However, she had heard news that something she was after was in this sector. So, she was here to collect it, as not only was it integral to her new life, but it would also help her impress her new master. Unfortunately, it was proving hard to find.

"Where is the ingot of beskar that came through here?" she hissed threateningly at the cowering spaceport worker before her. "Speak, or have your tongue ripped out of your throat."

"I-I-I'm sorry! I don't know!" the man trembled, his eyes wide at the sight of her crimson lightsaber staff, which spat sparks of hot energy in his face. "A-a-a Nuatolan c-came and picked it up. He said it was for a f-f-friend. That's all I know, I s-s-swear!"

"You are as useless as you are pathetic," Lyssa snapped, turning off her weapon. "Tell anyone about this and you die. Don't think that the Jedi will save you. They won't."

He nodded dumbly as she strode off. After threatening a few more people, the dark Jedi quickly found out that the Nuatolan in question owned a cantina not too far from the port. Striding over there, Lyssa stopped in her tracks as she took in the sight of absolute carnage. At least twenty different individuals of all ages, occupations and species lay strewn on the ground, cut down with the instinctive marks of a lightsaber. Kneeling down beside one of the bodies, Lyssa could sense the strong presence of the dark side. Whoever did this must have been a sith.

"Hmm..." she hummed. "Not what I was expecting from my little excursion."

A flash of metal in the light caught her eye, coming from the body of a nuatolan. Carefully making her way over, Lyssa searched through his jacket till she found what she was looking for - a beautiful ingot of shiny beskar, still warm from its previous owner's body heat.

That meant this carnage happened recently, the Mirialian thought. I wonder...

She could go back to her ship. She didn't have to pursue another sith, she already had a master. But...she had always been a curious individual. And if her instincts were correct, the one who did this was heading back towards where her ship was anyway. What could it hurt to have a little fun and meet a new friend?

Smirking to herself, the darksider followed the trail the murderor left in the force, walking through the streets till she saw the shape of a man up ahead. The energy of the force was practically pouring out of him, he had to be the one. Stepping loudly, Lyssa made her prescance known as she walked closely behind him. Let him make the first move. She always loved watching the reactions of others once they realised they are being followed...

Xephirus Cloud

 

[Darth Kentarch]

​

Somewhere in the Outer-Rim
Xephirus Cloud | Lyssa Clauda

The doors of the cantina hissed open with a begrudging groan, stirring the stagnant air within. Darth Kentarch, a figure robed in shadows, stepped through the threshold, his boots silent upon the gritty floor. The cantina, usually a cacophony of raucous patrons and clinking glasses, lay eerily silent. The dim light flickered over a macabre scene; patrons slumped over tables, their revelry forever stilled. The stench of charred flesh and spilled spirits permeated the room, a grim testimony to the violence that had unfolded.

Kentarch's gaze, piercing from the depths of his hood, surveyed the massacre with a calculating coldness. The patrons were of no concern to him; they were simply collateral in the galaxy's grand scheme. But there, crumpled on the floor, the Nautolan who had once served more than drinks—the one whose whispers had snaked their way through the underworld to the ears of the Sith Lord. The informant's eyes were still wide with shock, his skin now an unnatural pallor.

Approaching the bar, Kentarch noted the distinct scorch mark upon the Nautolan's torso, the hallmark of a lightsaber's kiss. A weapon wielded with precision and intent had silenced the informant permanently. His tentacled head lolled to the side, the once lively tendrils now limp and lifeless, a silent, swaying accusation.

The cantina, shrouded in the veil of death, seemed to hold its breath. But then, a subtle disturbance—a whimper, scarcely audible above the hum of the departed souls—beckoned Darth Kentarch's attention. His head turned slowly, a predator honing in on the faint rustling that emanated from below... In the cellar.


As Darth Kentarch descended into the dimly lit cellar, his boots echoed on the stone steps, the only sound in the otherwise suffocating silence. The flickering light from the doorway above outlined his towering, ominous form as he approached the quivering man, who cowered amidst the shadows.

The man, upon noticing the dark figure, recoiled, pressing himself against the damp cellar wall, his eyes wide with terror. He attempted to make himself as small as possible, shrinking away from what he perceived as an inevitable end.

"Mercy, please," he stammered, his voice barely rising above a whisper, "I mean no harm. I'm just a worker here—I saw nothing."

Kentarch's voice, deep and resonant, cut through the silence, "Speak. Tell me what transpired here."

The man swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing with fear. "It—it was a cloaked man, drunk as a skunk. He didn't pay his bill, the bartender stopped him. But his saber... it was pale-green, a sickly looking blade. He moved through the cantina, his blade... it was like death whispering."

"And you," Kentarch's tone was cold, unyielding, "you hid while others died?"

"I had no choice!" the man pleaded, his voice cracking. "He would have killed me too. I'm just a bar hand, I don't know anything about how to fight or—"

Kentarch stepped closer, and the man flinched. "Silence."
He realized the man saw little.

"You have done well to survive," Kentarch intoned, a statement that might have been taken for comfort but for the chill that accompanied it. "Remain here, out of sight, and you may continue to live."

The man nodded fervently, relief washing over him as the dark figure retreated, leaving the cellar and its secrets behind. Kentarch had new prey to hunt, and the game was just beginning.

 

[Xephirus Cloud]

Xephirus had felt the Mirialian's presence approaching for some time. He had felt her in the Force long before he heard her steps. He looked up into the eternal night sky and the infinite stars. He remembered bits and pieces of other lives he had lived, he remembered the hundreds of different suns he's seen rise and fall on the horizons.

"You follow us even though you know how dangerous we are." He says as he turns to face her. He looks her over carefully. He senses the Dark Side inside of her like a festering parasite. "But it seems you already know darkness."

 

[Lyssa Clauda]

"Us?" Momentarily confused, Lyssa glanced around out of the corner of her eyes. There was no one else here, unless...unless this man was someone like her master, who had acolytes at his command. For all she knew, his many servants could be watching her from the shadows, waiting to strike like thieves in the night. If that was the case, then she wasn't going to let him think she was intimidated. Squaring her shoulders, she gave him a confident smile. "Oh yes, them. Of course."

"You are right, I do know darkness," Lyssa continued, stepping forward and taking off her hood. "If I was a poet I'd even say we were old friends. But I'm not a poet, I'm a realist. I know that it's important for me to befriend more than just the shadows that lurk in my heart. Right now, I'm in the market for some new friends. And you've caught my interest."

Though Lyssa used the word 'friend', her tone left no mistake as to what the word really meant. She wanted allies, stepping stones on her path to power, individuals she could use to gain her master's favour and grow to be his favourite student. "So, what do you say?"

Xephirus Cloud Darth Kentarch

 

[Darth Kentarch]

Somewhere in the Outer-Rim
Xephirus Cloud | Lyssa Clauda

Darth Kentarch emerged from the cellar, his senses extended to the Force, reaching out like tendrils in the night. He stepped over the threshold of the cantina, the door sliding shut behind him with a hiss that seemed to seal the tomb of secrets within. Outside, the night was a shroud, the starless sky a blanket of darkness that seemed to conceal all manner of sin.

The Force hummed, a vibration in the air that was felt rather than heard. Kentarch attuned himself to its frequency, feeling for the disturbance, the ripple left by the one who had wielded the pale-green saber. There was a trail, faint but discernible to one such as him—a thread amidst the tapestry of the Force.

He cloaked his presence and vanished into thin air, following the trail of the murder that the force itself had left behind. It was not long before he stumbled upon two individuals. One was a female, whose presence was more flicker and another stronger one, a cloaked man. But Kentarch noted something wrong with his mind.

Kentarch's form suddenly appeared behind Lyssa. "What do I have to say?" Kentarch said. "How about we start with who killed my informant?"

The Sith Lord looked from Lyssa to Xephirus. His tone was demanding, his lightsaber was on his belt ready.

 

[Xephirus Cloud]

Xephirus looks around as the woman refers to phantoms in the night. "Oh they aren't with us." He says with a shrug. "Certainly, any phantoms..." Xephirus trails off as he notes the arrival of the other.

"Well this is certainly a lively affair..." Xephirus says with a shrug, "Well with the exception of your informant, of course..." He smiles at his dark joke, as the feeling of being in his own skin, even when it wasn't his own skin, washed over him. "Look... everyone dies...." He swallows hard knowing his turn hadn't come for hundreds of years and that everyone he had known was gone, "... eventually..." He says with a slight tone of sadness in his voice.

"We gave him a gift." Xephirus nods perhaps convincing himself more than anything. "He doesn't have to endure what is coming."

 

[Darth Kentarch]

Somewhere in the Outer-Rim
Xephirus Cloud | Lyssa Clauda


Darth Kentarch did not find the joke funny. Kentarch stepped closer, his silhouette seeming to absorb the scant light around them. "Do not mistake my lack of mirth for a lack of resolve. You will find no humor in what comes next should you continue to test my patience."

He looked one last time from the girl to the man. There was something wrong with him. It took the Sith Lord but a moment to realize the man was a Joiner. He could sense it now. "Ah your some bughugger," Kentarch said with distaste. "I see we are at a bit of an impasse. Tell me what we should do?"

There was a bit of tension rising between the two of them.

 

[Lyssa Clauda]

Lyssa had stiffened completely at the arrival of another. She could feel his power, and more importantly, his anger, radiating off him in sickening waves. She kept quiet for a while, reverting back to her old habits. Keep your mouth shut, and no one gets hurt, was what her father used to say. But she hated her father, and therefore hated his advice so eventually she spoke, if only to defy her old master.

"I had no part in killing your informant," she began, turning to face the Sith lord while also taking a step back for her safety. "But I'm an acolyte of the dark side. I am interested in this individual, he is strong in the force and could help me attain my goals. So I suggest that we keep the peace...for now, anyway. None of us would be of any use to the others if we are dead."

Lyssa recognised that directly opposing a man of great power wasn't the smartest move, but she had done it before, and thinks had worked out fine! Well, save for the fact that she had lost both her legs...Lyssa tried not to think about that.

Xephirus Cloud Darth Kentarch

 

[Xephirus Cloud]

Xephirus says with a wry smile and a far away look. "There is nothing you could do that we haven't experienced already."

Xephirus nods, "We could fight and in those moments I would find joy, if not humor. We could destroy each other and the galaxy would move on."

Xephirus shrugs, "If we are animals, let us do as animals do then." This was as direct an invitation to a fight as the other Sith Lord was going to get. Xephirus did not fear him, he had fought wars long before the man who stood across from him was even a thought. However, the words meant more than a challenge to a fight. It was a challenge for the minds. Animals fought territorially, sentient beings solved problems.

 

[Darth Kentarch]

Somewhere in the Outer-Rim
Xephirus Cloud | Lyssa Clauda

Kentarch looked to the acolyte. "You should know his mind is broken. He is melded to a Killik nest I suspect is gone, a Joiner. Their minds never recover fully from such trauma. I am sworn sword to the Empress of the Sith. You find I am more than to provide you with whatever you need."

The joiner spoke. His speech seemed broken to Kentarch, who suspected it came as the side effect of the joining. "I'm no animal." He responded simply, his gaze still on the acolyte.

He was more interested in the acolyte. "Tell me what it is you seek and I can make it worth it time."

 

[Xephirus Cloud]

The being Xephirus nods, "Oh, Zephyrus was broken long before he met the Kind.... long before he ascended the ranks of the Sith..."

He extends an accusatory finger. "But you should know about trauma. The Sith are a breeding ground for the broken. Your halls are full of those consumed by self loathing, hatred, anger." He had known this from his own experiences and trauma. Zephyr was a broken boy marred by the pain of death when he had joined the Sith. He blindly surrounded by people equally or more kriffed up than himself all for the exchange of power.

He tilts his head slightly and as if apologizing says, "We are more complete now than ever before and more complex than your feeble singular mind could grasp. We pity you, a simple servant to a greater power and unobservant to the universe around you.... and it's not your fault. Your eyes have never learned to see."

 

[Lyssa Clauda]

Kentarch looked to the acolyte. "You should know his mind is broken. He is melded to a Killik nest I suspect is gone, a Joiner. Their minds never recover fully from such trauma. I am sworn sword to the Empress of the Sith. You find I am more than to provide you with whatever you need."

He was more interested in the acolyte. "Tell me what it is you seek and I can make it worth it time."

Lyssa couldn't help but feel a strong sense of pride and satisfaction flow through her at the thought that this Sith lord was interested in her. She didn't wish for him to realise that, however, so she kept her facial expressions neutral.

"A broken mind? I thought we all had one of those," she offered in her best attempt at a nonchalant tone. "But if what you say is true, then I will not object to you killing him. I might be willing to accept your offer..."

Lyssa fought to contain her excitement. "If you tell me what you can offer me. I seek new ways to impress my master, new weapons, and most of all, more power. Or, perhaps you could offer me something else."

Lyssa lifted up her robe just a little to reveal her robotic legs. "I do not know how powerful Sith sorcery is, but if you could use it to restore to me my old legs, I would truly be in your debt."

The being Xephirus nods, "Oh, Zephyrus was broken long before he met the Kind.... long before he ascended the ranks of the Sith..."

He extends an accusatory finger. "But you should know about trauma. The Sith are a breeding ground for the broken. Your halls are full of those consumed by self loathing, hatred, anger."

The man behind Lyssa spoke in riddles, irritating ones. She crossed her arms over her chest. "Yeah, I know about the flaws of the Sith. That's why I'm a dark side acolyte, and not a Sith padawan. Because I want to be even greater than them."

He tilts his head slightly and as if apologizing says, "We are more complete now than ever before and more complex than your feeble singular mind could grasp. We pity you, a simple servant to a greater power and unobservant to the universe around you.... and it's not your fault. Your eyes have never learned to see."

"Rude," Lyssa wasn't sure if this man was talking to her or to the other Sith, but he was beginning to get on her nerves. "I'll have you know that I am no one's servant, and that my mind is as much my weapon as my lightsaber pike." She glared at him.

Darth Kentarch Xephirus Cloud