Private Falling In Line

[Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt]

But how long until it gets you killed, Lyra frowned deeply in the face of his tangent. It would have been blindly inspiring if she had been anyone less. It brooked some concerns though, a secret was still a secret for one reason or another and had consequences. The Academy might have felt like a thousand years ago to some, but she remembered some of it’s own politics and backstabbing like it was yesterday. Tilting her head, she saw the Major as a man alone and tired, and she did not look up to him at that moment but related. What was left on Bescane for herself? She had done him a disservice. Tightening her grip around her waist, Lyra cast her eyes aside. It was a brash move putting that much worth in a handful of troopers, their mortality was laughable really.

“I apologize sir, your words have merit to them,” the Lieutenant answered earnestly, in the swirl of emotion and..almost dizzily her eyes were open and she knew better then; guilt resting in her gut. Tavlar was all she had to lay her bets on, she had to hope he followed through. Forlende though blurry as it was, offered him credence on top of this.

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Irveric Tavlar

 

[Irveric Tavlar]

"It's only what I believe - you need not apologize...now go, get some rest." Irveric all but ordered to her, motioning her from the training hall with a whisk of his hand. As soon as she might've left he was alone once more, dragging his cold green gaze over the features of it all, eventually making his way to the weapons rack which held the vibroswords, slowly drawing one from its place with a low, metallic hiss.

It was then that his mind flashed to an earlier memory, a tortured one.

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"You whelps are useless! Twelve cycles and still this city lies in the hands of these wretched terrorists. I'd be more angry if perhaps I didn't pity the wretched state of you trogladytes even still..." The pale, deathly looking sith draped in ebon, armored robes barked out to Tavlar and his lower commanding NCOs amidst the heavy, ashen rain in their scrap piled command post deeply embedded within the all but ruined city on Garel.

"My Lord, if I may we've-" And soon after a spray of lightning bolts bit into the Sergeant, crawling and raging over his entire form as the Sith trooper keeled over in pains of unbelievable agony, his muscles and limbs locking and twisting in each every direction as the trooper was brought to an agonizing end before Irveric, merely for standing up for his Leftenant.

The young officer tried to remain still, calm even if all he wanted to do was shriek out in pain and mourn over the corpse of his trusted confidant. He could've very well saved him, stopped the outburst, piped up before him but instead he stood still, powerless. He did nothing. The Sith - he regarded Tavlar and his men more as a pack of war hounds than living, breathing sentients carrying out their ordered tasks.

"Now - I do hope you won't be so brave in challenging my commands will you, Leftenant? As if your station matters. You are all loyal servants are you not? Your ranks mean nothing - they shouldn't matter in servitude." The Sith said - halting Irveric's potential outburst as he sought to construct rhetoric behind a quivering lip of painful, grieving sorrow and a shuddering gaze. Luckily - all of it was shrouded behind his ebon helmet.

"You know where they are...I want an assault. Everything - I don't care what it takes. This filthy and pathetic hamlet will be our's by day's end...understood?"

"Yes...my lord." Irveric stated. Subdued and utterly terrified. All the same - he did his duty.

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Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt