False Prophets (PM for Invite)

[Long Gone]

The sounds of muffled screams and bones breaking echoed through the corridors of the darkened prison, blaster shots followed up by a lightsaber igniting. More screams, hard thuds against durasteel, armor being crushed and penetrated by energy beams of wicked intent. Only the Dark Lord knew what came down these halls. Hell hath no fury like a woman enraged by lies and deceit, hath no fury like the former Sword of the Jedi amped up on a poison so volatile it coursed through her very veins and fueled her power.

She was the epitome of rage, the dark side was her slave, and she was no longer a slave to it or the confusion it would sew. Countless beings would fall in her wake as she strode down the halls of the prison where [member="Turin Val Kur"]was kept. She could sense him, a weakened and potentially broken man in the midst of the chaos she was creating. While a majority of the One Sith remained away to raid the pantry of the Jedi kitchen, she would take what she needed and head to Byss, to confront [member="Darth Isolda"] and discover why she was different. What fueled her so much, what were these dreams? The Goddess did not provide her answers, but Isolda would or Artemisia would crush her spine after she ripped it free from the woman’s back.

She would take something with her though, a play thing, someone to perhaps torment and interrogate on the short-ride across the stars. Turin would make that fine little play thing for her and ensure she was kept company and hopefully no One Sith would attempt to stop her. Of course, if they did she would play coy and confused and act as if she were following orders, if she were pressed…well she would make them a blood smear across the wall much like she did with half the guards.

The sound of metal grinding echoed through the now quiet hall as she approached his cell, her hand reaching down to grab a bloodied identification card. She would raise up and swipe the card, the cell shield and door opening up with a hiss and a whirl. She quietly tossed it aside, crimson orbs staring at [member="Turin Val Kur"] within the confinement area, arms coming to fold across her chest.

“You’re coming with me…”

 

[The Hound]

How long had it been? Days? Weeks? The Sith known only to him as Isolda was scratching at his brain, attempting to work her way in. She, or at least Turin could only assume that it was under her ruling, had sent torture droids to burn and cut, make him weak for her slimy Sith hands to mold him, change him like he had felt her do to the Sword of the Jedi. But the pain, the pain was nothing to him. He would take the burns, the inscisions...It was her call, mysterious and dark.

Like a shadowy whisper that scratched at the back of his brain.

It was not violent, it was not aggressive, unless she felt that his own mental barrier was faltering. But it was mysterious and the more she probed, the more he probed back. It was a constant game of cat and mouse between the two. He wondered what the other Seer Padawan. Turin had the comfort of the Current, of the Force in general as was his gift...His connection. But he wasn't sure what that man had...Even as he thought about these things, thought about his life within the Sanctum the Sithspit Isolda was pecking at him, trying to find a crack. And then the door opened.

He never knew her, his time with the Jedi was long before she took on the title after Jaxton. She had fallen at the last Sith invasion. She called herself Darth Ira now. At least that was what he heard from the other Jedi captives. But what did she need him for? They had no history at all, no prior knowledge of each other...He had used the White Current as much as his limited knowledge allowed him to smother his own Force presence...But it seemed that his meager training was not enough to fool these Sith.

With dark hair hanging from his head, covering his face, piercing blue eyes looked at her feet, ignoring her presence. Defiant. With his hands cuffed behind him and a combination of dried blood and grime caked on his face, hands, and bare feet, he seemed defenseless. His resolve said otherwise. He spat at her boots. "What do you want, traitor." he was not referring to the Jedi of course, but the Republic she once served, that he once served and still felt obligated to protect. She was the worst kind of Sith. And once a betrayer, always a betrayer.
[member="Artemisia Vy Kar"]

 

[Long Gone]

Artemisia raised an eyebrow as she moved in, her hand coming up to remove her helm. As she did, locks of chestnut brown hair would fall around her shoulders as she stared upon the form of [member="Turin Val Kur"]. "I don't know you and don't presume to know me. The Jedi murdered my family and you're lucky I don't slay you where you sit..." She growled low in her throat as she moved closer. "You and I are going to take a little trip, I want answers and let's just call you insurance." She said before placing the helm back over her head.

"Now either you can stand yourself up, or I'd be glad to make you walk like a dog that you Jedi are."

 

[The Hound]

Dry, cracked lips parted to form an answer. She thought he was a Jedi? Well of course...He was fighting along side them when he was captured...He would let her continue to believe he was one of her hated Jedi. His eyes hidden behind sweaty, greasy locks of hair, he stood, hands shackled by the Force constricting leather cuffs. Did she not know who she was? What had Isolda truly done to her...? Answers would come. For now, he walked. For now he pretended.

For now, he hunted.
[member="Artemisia Vy Kar"]

 

[Long Gone]

What else was there to say? Or for her to do. Nothing, it was time to go. No more questions, no more confusion. No more lies. Damn the One Sith and their treacherous ways, their time would come. Isolda would be first.


It didn't take long for her to make her way past the corpses and blood smeared walls to the turbolifts and then to the shuttle bay before the alarms rang out. She turned back to look at [member="Turin Val Kur"] and quickly motioned him onto an awaiting shuttle before it too closed up and departed the Iron Palace. No sooner than the shuttle left, did the Palace go into a full lock down.

Soon, the shuttle would rocket off into space and Artemisia would punch in coordinates to a random location between Coruscant and Byss and pull back the lever. Stars would turn into streaks as the ship lurched into hyperspace, headed to the unknown.

She would rise from her chair and move back to rear of the shuttle and look at Turin "Why did they capture you?"