First Reply Fallen From Grace

[Aurelian Sigismund]

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Somewhere in the Outer Rim Territories

Cro Carn Valturs had been an Imperial Knight many years ago. Serving various Empires in his eventful life, always adhering to a code of honour and order as a true Imperial Knight would and should. Yet eventually, in the wake of fallen dynasties, crippled states and petty warlords, disillusion had settled in and the once proud defender of civilisation took a dark turn. He was not committing to heinous atrocities that cried savagery, but he started forging a new path, one of power, of manipulation. Valturs built himself a crime syndicate with himself as ultimate enforcer, trading in slaves and suppressing the local population. His base was inside an old space station, carved into an asteroid and from there he managed his micro-empire with coldblooded efficiency and terror.

Aurelian had gained access to the asteroid by landing on its surface and entering through an abandoned mine shaft, his cloaked shuttle left behind, he made his way forward to end the tenure of the oathbreaker. The Zakuulan did not judge him by moral standards for his crimes against people and his trade, there was no such sentiment in him. He would glass a world if it served the purpose - but one who broke his oaths, who adorned the plate of the Imperial Knights with contempt and drew its meaning into the dirt, that was not acceptable. Even through defeats, downfalls and misery, a Knight had to keep his vows or be condemned.

The tall figure arrived at the edge of the inhabited areas of the station, he took in the scene in front of him, assessing how to proceed. His hand rested on the hilt of Valoris, the obvious choice for what was to come.

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[R'ayne Asara]

small victories

[]

Savage Queen of Hearts - by Neon Dreams
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Tag > Aurelian Sigismund

Rumors are a currency unto themselves within the criminal underworld, and I have learned since my awakening to a foreign galaxy that the most profitable lies often wear the mask of truth. It was in smoke-choked cantinas, shadowed gambling dens, and whispered conversations exchanged beneath the glow of flashy holo-signs that I first heard the tale.

Somewhere within the forgotten reaches of the Outer Rim Territories drifted an asteroid. Some claimed it was a fortress carved into black stone by pirates centuries ago. Others swore it was a wandering haven beyond the reach of Imperial remnants, syndicates, and planetary law alike; a place where assassins, smugglers, mercenaries, slicers, and crime lords gathered beneath an unspoken truce.

The stories contradicted one another so often that they became impossible to trust, yet they persisted with the stubborn immortality of a legend that refused to die. Whether myth, fabrication, or hidden truth, the tale followed me like a specter through every shadowed corridor of the underworld.

The more I listened, the more intrigued I became. If such a sanctuary existed, it would not merely be a nest of criminals; it would be fertile soil. Organizations gathered there would possess resources, influence, desperate ambitions, and all the weaknesses that accompanied them.

My grand design would never be satisfied with a single web when an entire galaxy waited to be entangled.

There came a quiet kind of decay that greeted me as my shuttle cut through the fractured gravity well of the asteroid; an ancient, grinding pull that feels less like physics and more like judgment. The docking clamps seized hold with a groan that echoed through my vessel, and for a moment I imagined the asteroid itself exhaling around me, unwilling yet unable to refuse my arrival.

When the ramp descended, I stepped out into the docking bay of the station carved into the rock, and the air that met me smelled stale, metallic, and thick with the residue of too many sins left uncleaned. The structure is worse than rumor suggested; panels flickering with dying light, conduits hanging like exposed veins, and patched plating suggests generations of neglect held together by desperation and profit alone.

Still, life moves here; figures drift through the bay in armored clusters, cloaked silhouettes trade quiet deals beneath sputtering holo-lamps, and eyes, too many eyes, track me with cautious calculation as I pass. I let them look. I let them wonder.

Then I moved forward, deeper into the station's throat, where the true architecture of this place reveals itself not in metal or stone, but in the quiet alignment of greed, fear, and opportunity waiting to be shaped.​

 

[Aurelian Sigismund]

R'ayne Asara​

Somewhere in the Outer Rim Territories

There was something coming. A dark foreshadowing loomed at the edge of his precognition as he stood at the edge of the shadows, something far darker and troublesome was about to come. It was like a specter that walked at the edge of vision, you turned your eyes to look and it is gone but its presence loomed. It was the Force offering a glimpse into the future.

Aurelian smited it away.

The Force had no insight to offer to him, it had no bearing on his future and would never have. He had survived for very long without devoting himself to its enslaving currents. Information was singular, absolute, one-dimensional, truth was not hidden beneath layers of mysticism or wanted to be discovered. It simply was. It existed. And either one had enough skills and information to know the truth, learn the facts, or not. But neither premonition nor ruminations would influence it.

He was good at brooding, not meditating. But he was better at something else.

Lord Indomitus cast down the shadows as he strode forward into the station. Long steps echoed as his sabatons hit the ground panels, its heavy clank sounding like they would shatter the surface of the asteroid itself. It as if inevitability had manifested in physical form. The Zakuulan marched, his head lowering when he had to pass bulkheads and doorways, the massive figure only made taller by the wings of his helmet.

People stared in awe, hid in fear or ran in panic. Even the criminal scum among the people realised that it would be futile to prevent this individual from its adamant advance. Aurelian was on a collision course, both with the villainy that called this place home - but also with something else, not insight the Force had given him, but a feeling in his gut. His hunter instincts.

 

[R'ayne Asara]

small victories

[]

Savage Queen of Hearts - by Neon Dreams
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Tag > Aurelian Sigismund

I moved through one of the station's more ramshackled arteries, where rusted conduits hung from the ceiling like more exposed veins of some dying mechanical beast and flickering bulbs of light casting sickly shadows across the stained durasteel walls. The air tasted of engine exhaust, mold, and desperation, just like the docking bay, but much thicker, more concentrated.

My progress was interrupted when three figures emerged from a side passage and spread themselves across the corridor. Two Rodian males and a female Togruta regarded me with the hungry eyes of scavengers inspecting a fresh corpse. Their gazes crawled over me with an insolent familiarity that immediately tested my patience. The taller Rodian folded his arms and bared his teeth in a crooked grin.

“Fortunate you made it this far without incident, Twi'lek,” he said in rude, commanding tones, a heavy hint of detest toward my kin. “But your luck ends now. Hand over your cred-chip and anything else of value. In fact, hey, T'or, why don't you search her down? You like Twi'lek girls.”

A chorus of crude laughter followed. The second Rodian, T'or, licked his dried and cracking lips and stepped forward, confidence swelling within him like a disease. His hand reached toward me, eager to claim a prize he believed defenseless.

I remained motionless beneath my hood, watching his approach with the cold stillness of a crypt awaiting its next occupant, while deep within me the dark side stirred, amused by the fatal mistake unfolding before my eyes.

As T'or approached, reaching with all the confidence of a scavenger who mistook stillness for weakness, I slowly raised my eyes to meet his.

"T'or," I said in perfectly measured tones, my voice devoid of anger and all the more terrible for it, "I am tired. My patience has worn thin from today's previous events. You are standing upon the edge of a very poor life decision." The words emerged soft as funeral silk, yet each syllable carried the immutable certainty of a judge delivering sentence.

The Rodian's grin faltered for the briefest moment. Deep within the shadows of my hood, I regarded him not as a threat, but as a curiosity; an insect contemplating whether to crawl willingly into a flame.

My gaze drifted past him toward his companions, drawing all three into the orbit of my attention. The darkness seemed to thicken between the flickering lights, gathering in unseen corners where ancient fears and forgotten nightmares lingered.

"I must applaud your enthusiasm for entrepreneurship," I continued, my voice assuming an almost scholarly amusement. "It is refreshing to witness such dedication to one's chosen profession." I inclined my head slightly.

"However, do not mistake my arrival here for an invitation to participate in your venture. You seem to labor beneath the charming delusion that you may levy a tax upon my existence and further your business adventures with my credits." A faint smile touched my lips, cold and alien as moonlight upon a grave.

"The universe is filled with beings who believed themselves entitled to take what was mine. Their certainty was admirable. Their longevity was not."

As I spoke, I gathered the dark side around me like an unseen mantle woven from ancient storms and buried nightmares, not as a threat but as a precaution should they prove foolish enough to choose the more regrettable path.


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[Aurelian Sigismund]

R'ayne Asara​

Somewhere in the Outer Rim Territories

Turning a corner he finally saw what his gut had already warned him about.

His steps slowed down, coming to a halt at some distance to the scene and the figure his attention was now fully occupying. A figure in robes who looked almost as unassuming as the rest of the inhabitants, but there was a lot more to it. Small details in pose, in her attire spoke of something far more sinister than a mobster. The smell, the taste was unmistakable - Dark side.

Aurelian's hand calmly moved to the hilt of his sword, not drawing it yet. His gaze was locked on the dark individual, completely disregarding the present criminals who were in the process of getting themselves killed without knowing by what. The apparel of the massive knightly figure now interfering with their little robbery and certainly with their confidence in going through with it.

"I have a duty here and I will not have one of your kind interfere with it. Remove yourself and you will live to see another morrow." Cold, measured, utterly confident, Aurelian's voice came through the speaker of the helmet, addressing the Sith.

 

[R'ayne Asara]

small victories

[]

Savage Queen of Hearts - by Neon Dreams



Tag > Aurelian Sigismund

I turned my attention slowly, like a blade being drawn through something unwilling to part. The air had shifted; subtly, insistently announcing his arrival before his body even resolved fully into the space between fractured light and shadow.

A knight, though not of any Order I recognized from the rot-stained archives of my dominion; he wore an era that did not belong to my galaxy’s memory, a future stitched wrong, as if time itself had tried and failed to imitate sanctity.

His voice carried first accusation wrapped in authority, polished to a righteous edge that scraped against my patience.

And then I saw him properly; the stance, the posture of judgment, the hand hovering just above his hilt like prayer mistaken for violence.

I did not appreciate the implication.

I did not appreciate the certainty in him.

I did not appreciate, most of all, how loudly he believed the universe still owed him obedience.

So, I let his words settle in the air like spoiled incense; heavy with certainty, faintly delusional in their cleanliness. A duty, he said. As if obligation were something the universe still distributed fairly, instead of something that rotted in the hands of those who believed in it too long.

I tilt my head, slow, almost bored, letting the irritation show just enough to feel intentional. “Remove myself,” I repeat softly, tasting the absurdity of it. “How charming. You arrive in a place already bleeding and think you’re the first to notice the knife.” My gaze drifted past him then, deliberately unkind, toward the scattered thugs lingering at the edges of this unfolding mess; broken opportunists, hungry things wearing human shape.

I let the thought seep outward, not spoken, not Force-screamed, but suggested, the kind of idea that feels like it was always theirs.

They shifted. I can feel it before they act, greed recognizing a more profitable geometry in the room. I continue, my tone sharpening into something almost amused, almost offended by his innocence.

“You speak of duty while standing in a den of debts,” I murmur, stepping just slightly to one side as if making room for inevitability itself. “Look at him,” I add, not to the knight but to the scavengers circling him now like eclipses given hunger. “Does he not look…prosperous? Protected? Like someone whose misfortune might be redistributed for the right price?”

A faint, cruel smile touches my thoughts more than my face. “Go on,” I let linger in the unseen currents. “Shake him down. After all, if he is so devoted to his morrow, surely he can afford to invest in surviving today. It should be noted, for my part, I'm the real victim here."​