Private Best Served Cold

[Darth Strosius]

Naos III was nothing unusual amidst the tapestry of the Outer Rim, a world of poverty and disrepaired semi-urban centers underneath blankets of snow and ice that froze most who wandered too far away from civilization. Unlike most Rimward backwaters however this one had no more a criminal presence than any other world, rather it was simply a product of willful neglect and poor policies which kept the populace bound in their unfortunate state. Not even the roads and transportation were safe from the neglect, leaving most streets more rubble than road in more than a few places.

It was exceptionally displeasing but not outright disgusting like some worlds might be, even boasting some vacation centered industries such as the infamous Palace Hotel. Darth Strosius and His followers however had no interest in such local 'delights.' Currently the masked man was stood in the ruins of what must have at one time been a warehouse of some sort back when the world was more profitable, now little more than a few pillars barely holding a crumbling roof that was comprised more by ice than anything else. The harsh wind blew cold through the ruin but the hum of a handful of deployed heaters kept the temperature bearable for the little encampment that had been set up here.

On the edge of a major city few, with good intentions at least, came here and as such the Wonosan mission to this world had thus far gone well and unnoticed. Almost. It had been a full day since their last communication with one of their agents and concern was naturally warranted, so was action. To facilitate that, and to confirm the rumors of His survival circulating around the Rimward Wonosan contingent, the Prophet had summoned one of His most trustworthy agent to the world to aid in the task at hand. Finding their agent and continuing their work in fomenting a revolt against the planet's ruling government.

Kasir Dorran

 

[Kasir Dorran]

Darth Strosius

The chill was more than just external; it mirrored the ice that flowed through his veins. It breathed purpose into his black heart, which felt like a prison. Here, it was difficult to grasp reality, as this was one of the first times he found himself face to face with Darth Strosius since the return. A reunion of sorts, surreal to say the least, like a dance between past and present. But with it came an expectation that pressed down on him more than the severe weather ever could.

He was adorned in the Leidimas Sith Plate, though it lacked the vambraces, helmet, and cape; still, it was but a small inconvenience. Raven hair cascaded down to his shoulders, flowing like the shadows he often lurked in, framing the sangnir’s chiseled features. Deep within Kasir's dark gaze lay a reserve of unnatural strength— a force that didn't spark to life until his eyes locked onto the targets he was programmed to eliminate.

As he scanned over the fragile warehouse, he could feel his inner demons stirring, as they always did. Cruel and calculating, he too, had undergone a transformation, becoming a menacing machine sharpened by recent failures. Memories flooded his mind. The betrayal on Mustafar had cost him a forearm and hand, only to be followed by the shame of a failed assassination attempt in Echnos City. Then, there was the constant struggle to guide his own apprentice, all adding to the turmoil that lingered within. But through it all, he remained a composed killer, cutting through the memories like the ceremonial dagger on his belt; no doubt, his fondness for it was much like a musician for their instrument.

With a deep sense of respect, he strode forward, well aware of the Prophet of Bogan’s commanding aura. The very air before him seemed to part then. “Master, I am ready and at your command.” The murmur was as lifeless as he, carrying not a single trace of emotion. "I will bleed this planet dry to find our target, should you ask it of me."

The message was clear.

Kasir was prepared to execute the darkest of deeds.

 

[Darth Strosius]

Darth Strosius gazed over the ruined and abandoned street just outside of the warehouse that He stood in, arms clasped behind His back as His visor drifted from the potholes and cracked pavement to the glimmering streetlights and buildings but a few blocks away. This city was like a parasite of sort, crafting urban centers to leech from just to abandon them when it became convenient. Not even the criminal elements of Naos III would make roots in abandoned places like this, given the lack of proper temperature control and how desolate the buildings became as a result.

He almost pitied it in truth, as odd of a sentiment as it was, but He knew well enough that for as neglected as the infrastructure was the people of the city were even more so. They were choked and trapped on this frigid world, bound by poverty and circumstance to existences of gradual suffering. He despised it. He had assured many denizens already that He would undo it. Now it was time to make good on that promise.

He perked up when Kasir approached, tilting His head to the side and glancing back at the man as he addressed Him. " Kovoti iv manosi. " He returned the greeting as He turned around to face him, the wind seeming to die down from its incessant swirling so that He could be heard clearly. "It pleases me greatly to see you, I had wondered how you fared in my absence." Kasir had always been amongst His most capable Darkseekers of course, of that there was no doubt.

However, He knew that the younger Sith was in need of...direction. Direction that he often loathed to accept from anyone besides Himself. It was understandable given his prowess and skill, he had been elevated to Darth Strosius's personal command for such qualities after all, but still a factor that warranted a close eye. "I would never deny you the chance to exercise your blade my sunus, but this day there is one head above all others that I request you to bring me."

He stretched out a hand and pointed towards a large holodisplay in the distance, flickering above the city in a rather garish display. A smug Rodian with the tag line 'Re-elect Kruugn Brenko' loomed over the city on the display. "In an effort to boost his public support, Mayor Brenko intends to showcase the arrest one of our agents. Branding them as a terrorist cell leader and praising his own policies and police for bringing them to justice. I already have a team in place to extract our captured sibling, but the mayor himself is currently busy attending a gala with the local rich and powerful to try and get additional funding for his campaign."

A disgustingly opulent event that was an almost perfect mirror opposite to the city itself. "I want you to show that miserable pile of slime what happens to those who would dare harm your siblings in faith." His visor glinted in the dim light as He inclined His head slightly. "And don't worry about collatoral damage, no one in that gala is free of sin. Do as you please with any witnesses."

Kasir Dorran

 

[Kasir Dorran]

Darth Strosius

The ancient words of Ur-Kittat slithered through his consciousness like a banner, for he understood the title bestowed upon him; they carried both power and expectation, which bound him to the Sith Lord. Pride blossomed deep down, though it was leashed to the shadows that lingered in his soul. With a clenched fist, he pressed it against his chest— a gesture of reverence that coursed through him like fire. More than primal, it was a vow to the harsh reality of the path he had chosen long ago, suggesting loyalty paid not in credits, but in blood and sacrifice.

His head then lowered in a small nod, for unlike those of false doctrines, the Darkseeker understood the line between devotion and slavery.

Kasir rarely spoke more than necessarily, for his role demanded results, rather than idle chatter; but as the High Priest had returned, change stirred within him– such that only those who truly knew him would notice, which were few in number. And though he struggled to fully understand this new transformation, he felt a resurrection of his own, coursing through his very being. “It is an honor to stand before you once more; your absence left an emptiness that only you could fill.” The mention of his task caused a twitch at the corner of his mouth, lips parting just enough to reveal the sangnir’s elongated canines.

Frozen for but a beat, his thoughts threatened to scatter like leaves lost in a storm behind the stoic expression. The Sith turned slowly, his obsidian eyes studying the holo-display. The smug look and vibrant display of it mocked the entire city. The very idea of using one from Wonosa for glory ignited his inner flame. To another eye, it was merely an advertisement, but to Kasir, it was a map and compass intertwined. His prey would be easy to find.

Images of the Spice Lords' executions, broadcasted for all to see, resurfaced in his mind, as it had been a cold reminder of the consequences that came when their brothers or sisters were disturbed. And just as that had sent a powerful message, Kasir believed that this task would do the same.

His upbringing was far from noble, but his movements were graceful, hiding any roots that traced back to the streets of Dromund Kaas. With elegance, he straightened and turned his focus back to Darth Strosius. “It shall be a night to remember for all those upon Naos III, a reminder for others to think twice before bothering our family again. The walls of the gala shall be a canvas, and I will paint it with their blood.”

The scent of charred flesh and the sight of cauterized stumps was no longer a thrill to the Sith; rather, it had become a dull affair. It failed to stir any emotions, instead being only a result fueled by determination.

"I will bring you his head as requested, Master,” he murmured.

For several seconds, he stood completely still, gathering himself. When his body finally began to move, he headed out to fulfill what was asked of him.

 

[Darth Strosius]

At the mention of His absence there was an inhale, a sigh that sounded almost disappointed in nature yet resentful at the same time. At who or what was unclear and He made no effort to clarify it. "I have been told such, yes. Forgive me for my departure." The somber tone quickly shifted as He straightened His shoulders and held His head higher. "I shall not leave my faithful wanting ever again." Of that He had vowed and of that He was assured.

A smirk adorned the hidden features of Darth Strosius as the Darkseeker rose and agreed with the assignment, promising a night to be remembered indeed. It made Him feel rather nostalgic even though in the grand scheme of things His absence had been relatively short. Still, it was relieving to know that Kasir's faith hadn't wavered. He doubted that the man's skill with a blade had either for that matter. Both would serve him well on his task tonight.

"This whole world is a canvas, Darkseeker, the gala is but one easel amongst many. One that will be prepared first to make way for the rest." A world such as Naos III could not be fixed in one night, none could. Nor could the Order of Wonosa orchestrate a singular event grand enough to cause enough needed change. Not yet at least. "Go forth and make your mark young Dorran, make it one that will not be soon forgotten."

As Kasir departed, Darth Strosius would return His attention to the other matter of the evening. Rescuing their lost comrade. They were well guarded considering the circumstances but there were no guards in existence that could halt the will of the Force when it was time to strike, and it would indeed soon be that time.

Kasir Dorran

 

[Kasir Dorran]

Darth Strosius

Part of him wanted to express more gratitude for the Sith Lord's return. But a turbulent place in the deeper recesses of his mind resisted, defying all conscious desires. "No need for apologies," he spoke finally, his voice a mere whisper that carried the heavy weight of his emotions. "Your presence ignites a fire within us all."

Even as he left, there was a chill that coiled through him– not front he cold winds, but from the raw power emanating from the Darth Strosius. The darkness that cloaked him was familiar, like when Kasir first met him as an acolyte on Jutrand. It swirled around him, giving purpose to any of his actions. And when the doubts and uncertainties were removed from the equation, they would be replaced with the unforgiving drive that defined him as an assassin.

"Tonight, I shall walk through the abyss, for nothing can break me," he whispered, manifesting his determination into the galaxy.

As he slipped further away from the building, he moved like a specter through the broken streets of Naos III, a predator honing in on prey. Through the currents of the Force, the city whispered secrets beneath the layers of ice, those of desperation and even survival. There were faint hints of defiance, too.

The Sith wove through collapsed buildings that reeked of neglect. He moved quickly, relying not on the Force, but on speed born of his unnatural form. Each step was calculated, light as a feather. He ducked behind crumbling walls and cautiously approached the dark corners, moving with grace, and avoiding the patrols that were scattered about.

Shadows danced all around, and he embraced them. The fear from lost souls that existed on this forsaken planet were felt, and Kasir couldn’t help but revel in them.

His mind buzzed with images of Mayor Brenko’s face. Each turn led deeper into the city's heart.

 

[Darth Strosius]

Kasir's seemingly simple remarks did bring Him pause for a few moments, a subtle reassurance but one that nonetheless struck a chord within Him. His failure had been laid bare for all to see and yet His cult hadn't lost their faith in Him. Not even Kasir who was among those that valued strength seemed to have any sort of resentment of lack of faith in Him. It was quite a relief.

Thus far Maximilian had been the only one of His followers which had shown any sort of negative reaction to His return but that was of no real surprise.

While their faith hadn't been shaken, in His absence He had noticed that a fair portion of His followers had grown rather sloppy in their work and careless in their holy war on the Outer Rim. Kasir was never one to slacken but tonight would cement that fact. Darth Strosius needed competent and capable hands now more than ever. He watched the Darkseeker depart into the night with a slight grin hidden beneath His mask. That poor Rodian had no idea what was about to hit him.

The city was like a slumbering beast as Kasir navigated it, the night life barely thrummed with activity due to the recent curfews but the flashing signs and holoads kept the ruined streets lit up regardless. It was easy to tell which areas of the city were favored by the powers that be there, illuminated by signs and featuring actual functional infrastructure as opposed to the general state of disrepair and decay across most of the city blocks.

The building hosting the gala, a high rise roughly in the center of the town, was like a beacon even amidst the glowing and obscene ads. It was swarmed by camera drones and exceedingly elegant speeders delivering finely dressed patrons. While Naos III itself was nothing special an opulent event was still an opulent event and as such both local and foreign attendants would be at the event.

Kasir Dorran

 

[Kasir Dorran]

Darth Strosius

The Darkseeker continued moving through the silent streets of Naos III, his senses highly attuned to the most subtle undercurrents of the city. Through his years of service to the High Priest, he frequently encountered foreign planets. Yet, this one was probably among the grimiest, akin to something he’d expect to find in Hutt Space.

The building stood like an impregnable fortress among the decay, and Kasir’s mind shifted through his options like a seasoned strategist. As he drew closer, Kasir blended effortlessly into the shadows. His keen eyes tracked the camera drones moving overhead, each one programmed to watch.

He moved like a whisper, gliding past the watchful gazes with ease. From what he gathered, and partially anticipated, was that their patterns were predictable. It allowed him to anticipate their actions and slip through small gaps the moment their attention faltered.

The thrill of the hunt was becoming intoxicating, narrowing his focus even more.

Following his built in instincts had always served him well, and he decided to veer away from the front entrance. The Sith honed in, searching for service entrance, typically ignored by the masses. He moved cautiously to the rear of the building, and from there, to a nearly forgotten maintenance tunnel.

As he approached the entrance, he noted the security droids patrolling. Even for him, they could be a formidable obstacle, their technology advanced to detect even the faintest disturbance. Still, he was no stranger to tech, having made his way through much more complex systems.

Trusting his reflexes, he would wait for when their rotation finally crossed paths.

With a sharp inhale, he activated a small device now nestled in his palm; it was a custom built EMP generator capable of creating the right amount of interference to disrupt a droid’s sensor, even if only for a moment. With composed calmness, rather than adrenaline pounding loudly through his being, he darted forward.

He could feel the sound of music and laughter above him as he vanished into the darkness. Now in the belly, Kasir would move accordingly. The night’s adventure was just getting started.

 

[Darth Strosius]

The building's security droids proved little issue for as skilled of an infiltrator as Kasir, even with camera drones and dedicated combat models he still managed to slip by with no real disturbances for the droid to make note of. Their owners would be none the wiser until it was far too late for their precious security systems to intervene. If they could even make it up the building quick enough to begin with.

The vast majority of the building was empty, proving to be some sort of casino and hotel that had evidently been rented our bought out for the night as there were no patrons to speak of. None along the lower levels anyway. The top three were the only ones occupied, by guests and overworked staff members alike. There were a handful of security droids but these ones were less effective than the models guarding the entrance were, more ornate and elaborate rather than outright deadly.

Staff ran between the three levels, the lowest of which was dedicated purely to workstations and storage for drinks and food, with trays of refreshments and snacks that were entirely at odds with the decaying city beyond the grand windows. The upper levels were alight with activity and music, sheltered from the cold weather and urban desolation as they reveled in their excessive grandeur. Expensive beverages and finger foods, elaborate outfits that seemed to exist just to spite the concept of practicality, and an ever present orchestra that echoed throughout the whole building.

Mayor Brenko certainly knew how to impress his constituents.

The Rodian himself was surrounded by a group of fawning locals on the dance floor, jeering and vying for his hand to dance with. It was rather easy to tell the local oligarchs from the foreign blue bloods, the locals were noticeably less well dressed. Still far more prominent and ornate in attire than they had any right to be of course but still showing signs of just how impoverished the world they exploited was. How poor for them.

Kasir Dorran

 

[Kasir Dorran]

Darth Strosius

Kasir listened to the activity as though it were just another heartbeat, and inhaled the scents wafting through the air like an intoxicating perfume. No doubt, the grandeur was a stark contrast to the world outside, but even so, satisfaction washed over the Darkseeker. This was his home now, where he was king of the night. The very thought imbued him with feeling invincible, manifesting it into existence.

His gaze lingered ahead, plotting how he would ascend through the building. Moving forward with haste, every single step carried confidence; the sangnir knew stealth like the back of his pale hand. The security droids now, clearly less of a threat, would prove no match for him, easily darting between their watchful gazes.

He was ready to bring nightmares in the midst of opulence and indulgence.

Ascending a spiral staircase, Kasir effortlessly evaded the camera drones patrolling the narrow corridors. Stepping onto the first occupied level, he let his gaze wander beyond the shadows. He lingered briefly, observing the staff burdened with trays laden with various delicacies meant for the Mayor's guests.

These puppets wouldn't be his first victims; that would be saved for those higher up. Moving further along, his eyes scanned for the heart of their festivity— the power box. Kasir wanted to bring darkness upon them, a shadow that mirrored the abyss he long since embraced.

He traced the wires along the wall, following it for a time, until the control room loomed ahead. The door was marked in a way suggesting authority, and without hesitation, Kasir stepped inside.

The space within was illuminated with the blinking consoles and screens. As he moved through the room, his eyes roamed over the controls. Wasting no time, his hand hovered over the main power switch, and in one fluid motion, he brought it down, sending them straight for chaos.

The lights flickered for several seconds before they died.

The distant echoes of laughter and music began to fade, replaced by a veil of confusion.

 

[Darth Strosius]

At first the flickering lights and sudden darkness that followed was greeted by a surprised yet excited response from most of the patrons of the event, although the confusion and concern of the staff as well as the host himself quickly spread and soured the mood. They had thought that some grand reveal was coming but it seemed more like some major malfunction had occurred instead. Mayor Brenko excused himself from the barely visible dance floor and proceeded to start barking orders at staff and droids alike in a decidedly unsubtle manner.

One made all the more apparent given that by now the sounds of conversation and the band had also similarly quieted into confused and conspiratory whispers. The locals were quick to blame the building itself but the more foreign patrons reserved their scathing critiques for the host, ridiculing the Rodian in whispers and idle chatter as staff frantically ran around in search of some method to switch the power back on.

Not that any of the guests really cared much for the desperate efforts of the host and staff of course, be they foreign or local. The whispered complaints soon turned to more open calls for action from the Mayor. As well as some idle threats of stripping funding and support from his various development projects and political games. Soon enough the staff were joining in the arguing, amongst themselves and with the patrons alike.

Circuit breakers were checked and flipped as the more electrically inclined staff members started prying open wire junctions. The droids for their part scoured the staff areas for any potential signs of damage as well, with a security droid flanked by two camera drones soon approaching the control room to investigate it. By now it was one of the last areas that could have any sort of issue with it, as most every other possible point of malfunction or sabotage had already been checked and verified in their operational status.

Kasir Dorran

 

[Kasir Dorran]

Darth Strosius

Kasir drew closer to the grand hall, gliding through the corridors with the grace of a Nexu, his movements silent. His extraordinary eyesight allowed him to pierce through the darkness where many others would struggle. Their confusion and uncertainty were palpable, but the shadows were a familiar embrace for Kasir, easily detailing every nuance of the surroundings.

He could feel the currents of emotion swirling through the Force, all heavy in the very air he breathed. The uncertainty was clear, with faint traces of fear rolling off the guests, and anxiety heightened with each heartbeat. He savored it like fine wine. Time stretched as everything began to amplify.

Reaching the top floor, his predatory eyes scanned the area, searching for potential exits and ambush points. Power and purpose became clear, ready to be unleashed. Now was the time to strike. A single blade was ignited, the crimson glow illuminating the surroundings and revealing the Darkseeker’s sharp and sinister features. It burned through flesh and emerged from the first victim’s chest. What started as a small gasp quickly morphed into a series of screams. Ripples of panic surged through the crowd as they desperately searched for an escape.

A single hand extended, drawing upon the malevolent energy within. With the aid of his mind, he directed his will to lift two large banquet tables from the floor. With a flick of the wrist, he hurled them toward the main entrance, the transparisteel slamming to block any possible escape. It would certainly delay those now scrambling for safety. A young Falleen darting for the exit found himself caught between the wall and the incoming debris, eyes wide in horror. But it was too late. With a sickening thud, green blood splattered against the walls. Like a candle, Kasir detected his light extinguished

 

[Darth Strosius]

With the tell tale hiss of a lightsaber igniting, all hell broke loose in the quiet and dark floors of the building. Whispers and mutterings became shouts of alarm and screams of terror in an instant as the first body hit the ground, another couple of guests soon adding to the total as two tables crushed them against the doors that they had just been attempting to open. The staff were quick to retreat into their employee only areas, a brave few of them holding open the doors there to try and usher the panicking guests inside and away from the scene of action.

Drones and droids, on the periphery of the activity, quickly began moving back towards the carnage and chaos but with how widespread they had been searching for the disturbance with the lights it would take them a few moments to arrive in force. A few moments that would prove very crucial to everyone involved. The march to the control was abandoned as well, leaving the gala dark aside from the dreadful crimson blade that heralded a grisly demise.

Mayor Brenko wasted no time in rushing for the nearest staff area, all but knocking down several guests in his way as he moved out of the open to put as much distance and as many walls between himself and the Darkseeker as possible. His normally composed swagger gave way to the frantic rush of a wild animal backed into a corner and he had no qualms pushing people behind him and towards the sole red light in the room as he ran. Political consequences be damned, he was getting out of here alive.

Kasir Dorran

 

[Kasir Dorran]

Darth Strosius

As always, Kasir thrived in the absence of light. His presence was only marked by the hum and glow of his saberstaff. The blades sliced through the air as he spun the weapon back above his head, the crimson hues casting shadows on the walls. As it settled before his body, the Sith continued his advance with deadly intent.

The room was filled with the cacophony of terror; he could hear screams and more tables being overturned. Everywhere he walked, there was a trail of cauterized remains. The scent of charred flesh wafted through the air. Souls of the greedy writhed on the ground, filled with agony as they wrestled with a new reality.

With a cruel wave of his hand, the Sith severed the cables that suspended some of the chandeliers. Instead of symbols of opulence, they became weapons. The shattering glass and crystals sent shards flying in every direction, cutting into the flesh of those who were beneath and nearby. The sangnir inhaled the scent of blood like an alluring perfume.

In his desperation, the Rodian stood out clearly. His visage mirrored the same smug expression that adorned the HoloDisplay outside. Had there ever been any lines of bravado on the Mayor’s face, Kasir would have recognized them no differently than he would detect prey among the herds.
While Brenko thought he was making way towards safety like a cornered creature, the Darkseekers' only burned brighter like a dark flame in the abyss. The staff, wide eyed with terror, were huddled in the corners; Kasir even spared them a moment as they decided where their loyalties truly lay.

Apparently, he did manage to have a few cronies, as they lunged forward. Within a few heartbeats, his dagger found itself embedded multiple times into each target, ripping through the chest and abdomen.

With seemingly no other obstacles, he was now ready to claim his due.

 

[Darth Strosius]

Aside from the handful of brave, yet exceptionally foolish, staff members that had thrown themselves at Kasir and were swiftly cut down for it there was little else in the way of resistance to his assault. The patrons and their scrambling had effectively trapped the security droids from being able to respond, unable to just push through the crowd due to their programming and lack of direct orders to do so. The staff weren't much help either, as by the time chandeliers started falling most of them had given up trying to help and were instead pushing through to make their own desperate escape.

The gala lay in ruins with bodies and mangled chandeliers were scattered across the floor, the dark building illuminated only by the colorful holosigns stretched across and over the buildings beyond the windows. While the patrons, staff, and droids fought one another to move about the narrow service corridors none spared a glance outside or even back into the main room where Kasir had carved his brutal path.

No one noticed a building on the edge of town which had miraculously caught fire, drawing the attention of law enforcement towards it rather than the gala.

Mayor Brenko shoved his way into the storage area, looking back just in time to see the Darkseeker pursuing him with the bodies of staff members splayed behind him. Fear was evident in his eyes even as his shaking hands fished a holdout blaster from his expensive clothing. He aimed it the Sith and was forced to clasp it in two hands just to try and steady his aim. "Stay back!" He called out in Rodese, backing up and into a shelf with a slight grunt of pain. "I know Hutts you slime, you'll never know peace again if you lay a hand on me!"

Kasir Dorran

 

[Kasir Dorran]

Darth Strosius

The Mayor was almost within reach now, a shadow within shadows. Fixed on the Rodian, panic from the creature poured from him like fine wine, both intoxicating and potent. Slowly, Kasir lifted a pale hand, the faintest shimmer around his fingers as he called the dark energy of the Force to his will, executing a simple, but precise maneuver, which tore the blaster from Brenko’s grip with a simple flick. The weapon spun through the air and crashed off a nearby wall with a loud thud.

In the blackness, Kasir's gaze followed the trembles that rippled through his prey, watching with hunger as helplessness tightened its cruel grip on the Rodian. Yet the sangnir felt far from satisfied by this display of dominance. Each step he took, each unhurried movement, only spoke of his superiority.

His breath brushed against the creature's skin as he leaned in. “The Hutt’s time will come too,” he murmured, an icy promise meant to stir more fear.

Kasir exchanged his saberstaff for the ceremonial blade that hung at his side, its surface etched with the tales of many lives claimed now. The weapon brought warmth to his cold touch as though humming in anticipation.

Without another pause, the Darkseeker slid forward to engage in a dance of steel and flesh. The room became filled with a symphony of slicing sounds, every note sharp and wet.

Dark beauty flowed through every movement.

A final guttural cry ripped through the air. For the Mayor, his world split just as the body did.

Carried by the two antennae, like a gruesome trophy, the Darkseeker strode towards the exit; yet, despite the carnage left behind, a small whisper then entered his mind, warning that tonight's work may have not been finished just yet.

The majority of guests at the event had met their end, while the staff workers, at least those wise enough to avoid him, were spared to serve as reminders of the horrors witnessed.

 

[Darth Strosius]

Mayor Brenko cursed in Rodese as his blaster flew out of his hand, his wrist cramping from the angle that it been bent when he had briefly tried to keep hold of it. "Monster!" He winced as the Darkseeker drew near, gaze fixed on the crimson blade that had torn through the gala's guests just a few moments before. He was so certain that it would herald his doom he barely even noticed when Kasir drew another until it was already plunging towards him.

"You Sith bas-AGH!" Screams and curses filled the air in the final moments of the corrupt Rodian, seeming to drag on forever despite the short time the deed actually took. It was drawn out of course, perfectly so just as Kasir would have done countless times beforehand, but still efficient in its brutality. A message, a display, more than just a mere body would be left of Brenko as the Darkseeker left with his bloody prize in hand.

By the time the droids reached the gala, having to weather the battering of crowding bodies and hurrying guests in the narrow service halls, the assailant would be long gone and the bodies left in his wake would be the only traces to be found. The authorities would arrive on scene even later, having been waylaid by a jailbreak across the city that left three buildings burning and half of the mayor's personal security detail impaled outside said infernos for all to see.

Naos III would not soon forget this night.

Darth Strosius watched as the camp in the abandoned building was in the final stages of disassembly, knowing that after two such grandiose events there was little reason to stay in the city for the aftermath. The seeds of revolt had already been sewn among the local populace and tonight would be the sign that their oppressors were all too vulnerable, the agents of Wonosa would hardly even be needed to see it to its end.

The Sith Lord cocked His head to the side as a presence approached, standing up straight and casting the slightest of glances behind His back as He idly drummed His fingers on the hilt of the sword sheathed at His side. One that had seen good usage tonight. "You return. Victorious I presume?" He hadn't had the chance to tune into the local security transmissions since their plan was set in motion so He hadn't heard any news on the gala. Not yet at least.

Kasir Dorran

 

[Kasir Dorran]

Darth Strosius

Kasir weaved through the maze of backstreets; his movements were shrouded in the shadows that clung to him like a second skin. The pulse of the Naos III throbbed differently now; tension gripped the air. As he made his way back to the abandoned building, he couldn't help but notice the authorities moving down one of the nearby streets; now, they were just chasing phantoms.

It was no coincidence, he knew. The distraction had been meticulously planned and had served its purpose well, allowing the Darkseeker to execute his mission without any interference.

His grip tightened on the trophy at his side. The severed head of the Rodian, his features twisted in eternal horror, was a stark contrast to the vibrant persona displayed on holoboards. Dark satisfaction pooled in his chest as he stepped forward into the shadow of the High Priest; its weight felt heavy and foreboding yet welcomed him into an embrace.

The dismembered part was lifted to be seen, now nothing more than a testament to his night’s work. Mayor Brenko’s lifeless eyes were staring ahead. “Victorious,” he murmured. The expressionless mask of the younger sangnir revealed nothing, as was often the case, but the blood that still oozed from the severed head spoke volumes. "Everything was executed perfectly. The city's heart now beats with fear, and their false beliefs shall be forever shattered from tonight’s gala.”

With grace, he then flicked it aside, a thud echoing in the small space between them. Kasir's gaze dropped to his bloodstained fingers, where the hunger within him began to stir, begging for sustenance. Perhaps, before they departed from this forsaken planet, he would satiate his cravings and indulge greedily.

 

[Darth Strosius]

Darth Strosius let out a satisfied hum and a slight nod as the head of the infamous mayor was raised up, fear and dread etched in his dead face as permanently as carvings in stone. "Victorious indeed." He shifted one of His feet slightly so that the dripping blood didn't drop onto it as He leaned in to inspect the head for a moment before pulling back and crossing His arms behind His back as the head was cast aside into the ruin that surrounded them.

"I expected nothing less, Darkseeker. It is always a pleasure to see your handiwork with my own eyes." He'd seen and heard plenty of reports and aftermaths of Kasir's missions but He always preferred seeing such things in the flesh. News reports and debriefings did not do them justice when compared to seeing the city itself shudder in the wake of the Darkseeker.

"There is much to be done to unchain Naos III fully, but you have aided in the first great step towards it. Take pride young Dorran, you have done very well this day." Mayor Brenko was far from the most influential presence on the planet but he was higher up in the unseen hierarchy that reigned across the world than any other targets that the agents of Wonosa had eliminated on Naos III thus far. A message for those who would try and make a spectacle out of challenging them, one written in blood and terror.

He glanced back at the camp still being deconstructed behind them before clicking His tongue and turning back to Kasir. "Our siblings in faith will move to a new outpost soon enough and establish new operations while this city writhes in the chaos of its own weakness on full display. But we have grander designs yet to be pursued, for now." He gestured for the other Sith to follow as He started moving away from the ruin. "Tell me Darkseeker, how adept are you at the retrieval of the ancient secrets of our forbearers?"

Kasir Dorran

 

[Kasir Dorran]

Darth Strosius

Kasir stood tall as the cold winds whipped at his form. Rarely did any sensation reach him, physical or emotional. Still, the Darkseeker felt the faintest flicker of something akin to it, for he was a creature of calculation, rather than sentiment. The praise from the High Priest wormed its way through a network that often felt more mechanical than organic and stoked whatever embers of humanity that still remained.

The Sith’s response, though simple, carried a weight of their own. "It is as you command, my master.”

Leaving the camp, the two moved forward, the Darkseeker falling a step behind Darth Strosius; it was a reflection of his obedience, but also discipline, too. Silence stretched between them as Kasir's mind meticulously churning on how much should be revealed.

"It may not hold the same thrill as wielding a blade, but the retrieval of ancient secrets is not entirely unfamiliar to me," his voice was smooth and measured, his gaze focused only on the path ahead.

Falling silent for several beats, his stride never faltered. The Darkseeker’s gaze drifted upward to the horizon He weighed his words carefully, contemplating how much of his recent success should be revealed.

Finally, breaking the silence, he continued. "Not long ago, on Malachor V, I retrieved a Holocron from an ancient Sith temple. Its secrets were not uncovered with challenge, yet I acquired it with ease."

Slowly, his head turned to Darth Strosius; then, his voice darkened, carrying a clear edge. “What is it that you need me to find, my Lord?” The words rolled off his tongue like the shadows he so often reveled in, promising loyalty, but also masked with ambition of one prepared to continue proving his worth and elevating his status.

The notion of a new outpost stirred a flicker of intrigue within, though in truth, he often longed for the hidden enclave on Mustafar. There, amid the planet's dark energy, Kasir always felt tethered to the truest and strongest version of himself. It was a place where everything was stripped away, leaving only clarity and raw power.

“And where will this outpost be my brothers and sisters?”