Private Family Bonding: Prescott/Arianna

[Arianna Belasko]

Wearing: This

Armed With: Synthetic Crystal Lightsaber (Black Core, Red Aura)

Objective: Bond with Prescott (Lancelot Io )


Four days after Family Bonding



Countess Arianna Belasko had been busy for days setting up the treasury departments final checks and balances and now she was bored and wanted to party. Her more recent investigation into the security breaches less than a day prior had failed to turn up anything. It was a deeply disturbing setback. Arianna had been running in circles trying to find out how the breach in the archives had occured before Xiphos had mandated she take a break.

More to the point, she wanted to party with her favorite grandson, having sensed a fellow kindred spirit when it came to hedonism.

And what better way to be the party animals they wanted to be then by going to Zeltros? It would give her less chance to focus on her current failure.

She had it all set up, Days of theaters! Restuarants! Dancers so hot your eyes fell out of you sockets! The perfect recipe for some Pulp Fiction Shenanigans!

She had selected an outrageously expensive yacht. It was a Cathedral Yacht, an early purchase of hers. She had paid triple what it was worth as a pure flex.

There was reason to be happy, Khemost was being settled more, they had recovered all family members, and the economy and populace was starting to come together.

It was a good time to take a break. And besides, she so rarely had an opportunity to open up to someone on a personal level.

There was much Prescott, someday Lancelot, didn't know about Arianna. There was a lot Arianna herself didn't know.

The truth about the countess was a state secret. Very few knew the truth, that the real Arianna Belasko had been dead for years, assassinated by a young Laertia Io just before her journey of self-discovery had begun, and she was learning the darkest truths about herself and her history. A Force Spawn had assimilated her, assumed her form, personality, and abilities. The original adoptive Mother of Laertia.

The Arianna Prescott was getting close to, was a watered-down version of a complete psychopath.

It was so easy being Arianna these days. She always had more fun.

Like now, as she walked through the Palace. The dress, somehow, though tastefully designed, managed to turn heads in sheer amazement.

She stopped as she spotted Maple Harte, whittling a piece of wood with a sharp knife in one of the palace lounges, a bucket for the shavings to drop into beneath her piece of crafting material. Lots of citizens, even most of the cultists, and Light SIth, steered clear of her.

As much as Arianna AND Vivian's vanity would deny it, deep down, Harte made her nervous. Harte was the only unaltered mortal in the upper leadership. A woman with guns and an infamously lethal aim. Her own Daughter feared Maple. Arianna had witnessed her fighting at Kerest and understood why.

Harte fought like a Demon. She did what Xiphos did, but slower, with more precision.

(Cutaway of Sam WIlson dodging helicarrier guns in mid air)

"Out for a romp, Countess?" Maple asked quietly, carving the figure.

"As it happens yes I am. I need a break..." Arianna answered flipping open a small mirror to make sure not a hair was out of place.

"Zeltros isn't a break. Zeltros is a Fireworks filled gargle blaster followed by pole dancing and alcohol."

"The perfect place to appreciate being alive. I'd ask you to come with us, dear Maple, you look like you could use a break yourself, but it's really a little black dress occasion."

"There's 'Little Black Dress' and 'I'm getting away with murder in front of y'all.' You are wearing the latter."

"Why thank you for noticing..." Arianna replied smugly.

Then she blinked.

"Maple..." Arianna trailed. "How the feth do you know where I'm going?"

Maple only gave a small smile, finishing her wood sculpture, that of a unicorn which she placed on the arm of the seat. (Like Tears, in the Rain: 90 XP)

"Have a nice night Countess. Make sure Scotty comes back intact. That's MY Nephew."

"And MY Grandson." Arianna replied diplomatically "He's in perfectly capable hands."

"Of course. Forgive my presumption." Maple replied emptily as she wandered off.

Arianna sighed. Maple could be so cryptic and difficult to talk to sometimes.

But it wasn't her problem.

(Cutaway of J. Jonah Jameson laughing uncontrollably)

Arianna strode out into the Hangar where the Luxury yacht waited. It would be a long journey to Zeltros and they would have so much to talk about...

Hopefully Scott would show soon. She had bought him a number of expensive outfits and had asked him to pick the one he really liked for their mini vacation.

Arianna strode up the ramp, hoping Scott was already aboard...

 

[Lancelot Io]

Scott, clad in a flashy blue and yellow outfit, was still wandering around the interior of the yacht, taking in the sights. It was a truly beautiful vessel with stained glass viewport windows and complex, gothic architecture.

Hearing Arianna’s arrival, he slid down his sunglasses to get a better look at her. “Whoa,” he remarked, his eyebrows shooting up. “That’s… quite the dress you have on.”

The Countess was known for her bold and daring sense of fashion as much as Scott was known for his garishness. It was one trait they shared in common.

“So, we’re headed to Zeltros.” He grinned and rubbed his hands together in excitement. “Never been there before, not even before the Trifurcation. Being part of Percival was a real drag—must’ve been the Galahad in him.” He chuckled. "All right, Grandmother. Ready when you are."

Arianna Belasko​

 

[Arianna Belasko]

Arianna beamed.

"Oh, you look so adorable!" Arianna gushed. We're going to have such fun. The dances in the Night Clubs alone will be worth the trip."

She soon ordered the Pilot droids to lift off and the Cathedral was soon jumping to Hyperspace. It would take a while before they arrived and there was plenty of time to talk and gossip before they arrived.

Arianna invited Prescott to the dining table, covered in Haysian Smelt and pearl inlay where she poured two glasses of a rediculously expensive Corellian Chianti into goblets shaped from large chunks of Artificial diamond and handed him one.

"You know, 'I' was the one who gave your mother her first major influx of credits to fund the Nuetralizer Program..." Arianna said. "I even participated in instructing the first batch. I had never been a grandmother before, and of course, there was no indication the Nuetralizers were going to turn into what they currently are. I must say..." she trailed, gently gliding her fingers across her grandson's cheek in an affectionate manner.

"You've all come such a long way. If I'd known I'd get to spoil you rotten I would have done it all over again with twice the vigor." Arianna said happily before sitting down.

"So! I need gossip! Any girls caught your eye yet?" she asked the future Lancelot Io

 

[Lancelot Io]

Scott shamelessly enjoyed the opulence. As Arianna poured the wine, he turned the diamond goblet around, admiring how the light struck its carved facets like jewels around the throat of a princess.

Savoring the taste of the Corellian vintage, he leaned back and listened to his grandmother with eyelids lowered to half mast, accepting her gesture of affection with a lopsided smile.

“The women of House Io are all so lovely, I simply can’t decide. Well, except…” Pausing, he took another sip of wine to keep her in suspense. “There is one girl who has eluded me so far. I think that’s why I keep coming back to her. She slips through my fingers again and again, seemingly without trying. And she’s so devoted to her duties as a Chaplain...”

He didn’t mention her name, but it was easy to guess that he was speaking of Alessandra Io .

The subject of gossip brought his mind to Percival. “Did you hear about my brother Percival? The poor guy’s madly in love, and he doesn’t even realize it. With one of his parishioners. Her husband died in battle, leaving her a widow with a baby on the way.”

Neutralizers have no prejudices (well, aside from being inherently biased against House Io’s enemies) but Scott couldn’t help finding a romance between a Neutralizer and an Organic interesting. Such relationships weren’t unheard of, but it was… unusual to see a pairing between human and machine. Because of the subservient nature of most droids, such unions were considered to be obscene or grotesque. But Neutralizers were so highly advanced, they were in a completely different ballpark compared to a protocol droid or astromech.

“What about you, Grandmother?” Scott asked, mischief in his eyes. “Have you been entangled in any affairs lately?”

Arianna Belasko​

 

[Arianna Belasko]

"Workplace romances can be the most stimulating..." Arianna noted. "I didn't know about Percy's current intrigue. He plays his hand close to his chest. Xiphos programmed him that way, giving him the caution she learned in Nar Shaddaa's streets."

Arianna took a sip.

"Alessandra is a wonderful person with much talent. I don't fault your taste." Arianna praised. She then went to a small golden cabinet.

"I wanted to show you a few things..." She said, rummaging. "I have been digging around in my old things and I came across these photos...

Arianna presented them to the someday soon Lancelot Io . They depicted a younger looking Laertia and Maple Harte with the now estranged Moya Virtu posing next to a virtually unchanged looking Arianna. Laertia's gaze lacked the hard, unflinching feel of Xiphos: It was less certain, more furtive looking.

"I really wish you could have met your mother as she was back then. You would have liked her I think. She..."

Arianna's hand trailed over Laertia's face in the photo...

"...she..."

Arianna stopped, simply handing them to Lancelot.

"Your Mother gave up much of herself to be where she is. Remember that..." Arianna said. "But I, for my part, ended up loving her so much I adopted her."

She paused. "I haven't told how we first met, did I?" Arianna asked him.

 

[Lancelot Io]

Arianna praised his taste in women, but didn’t directly answer his question about her own affairs, which led Scott to conclude that either she had none at present, or she didn’t want to talk about it. Which was fine by him either way. Perhaps she had caught on that he loved to give away other people’s secrets.

“She did?” Scott murmured, intrigued by the revelation about Percival’s programming. “...Wouldn’t that mean that all three of us were programmed that way?”

Regardless of her response, Scott evidently had more beans to spill on the subject of his brother’s paramour. “I think Percival is drawn to this young widowed mother because he finds something in her that Xiphos lacks. Something maternal in nature. I don’t mean to say that Mother doesn’t love us, but whatever this woman has, it’s filling a void in Percival that devotion to Xiphos and the House can’t fulfill. Though I may be wrong… it’s just a hunch I have.”

Arianna approached a golden cabinet, opening it and retrieving a photo. She gave it to Scott, who examined the image. A young Xiphos and Maple, Arianna, and Grandmother Moya, who was now estranged from the House.

The picture stirred strange yet intense feelings in Scott, enough that he felt a need to down the rest of his wine and pour himself another cup, seeking refuge in the pleasant buzz the alcohol brought him.

“No, you haven’t told me,” he prompted, his voice low.

Arianna Belasko​

 

[Arianna Belasko]

Arianna, due to thinking she was the actual Arianna, was forced to go by the Actual Arianna's backstory rather than the one that actually controlled her from the inside.

"I...was once as vile as The Amalgam. I have never made a secret of my past as a Cultist. But even before that, I was a...you'd have killed the old me if you met her on general principle." Arianna explained softly. "Not a one of the Core Leadership has clean hands. Certainly not I. Themis was one of the bloodiest figures in the era before the Gulag Plague. Amy has a trail of bodies from the time period the Plague ended to now. And your Mother...well...you know what your Mother did." Arianna added.

"It got to the point where I tried to make myself a God. I was a spiritual mass of corruption that had infested an entire temple, trapping the souls within, constantly making them relive the moment of their death. It was that way for hundreds of years until Julia came along to break the stalemate."

Arianna sat down, eyes glazing over.

"She was still a Padawan. I tried to play on her fears and turn her to the Dark Side, tried to convince her to let me use her master as a host. But she would have none of it. Finally, I attacked her myself. I fell first in battle. Then every other Witch I was composed of attacked her, but her will...her will proved stronger than all of ours combined. She sent most of me to hell. I am the only surviving fragment of The United, and that was only because I had an insurance policy I never thought I would have to use." Arianna explained.

She looked at the future Lancelot Io .

"I found my way to a back up body and spent the next fifteen years getting strong again when I met her again as she was seeking a lost relic. We were mistrustful, but we ended up finding we eventually had developed a lot in common. I had been...humbled by my prior experience."

(Cutaway of Laertia Io laughing uncontrollably)

"I started to mentor her and found she filled a gap in my life."

(Cutaway of J Jonah Jameson laughing uncontrollably alongside Laertia Io)

"And Laertia...she has always sought parents...it just got to the point where the only way she could plug that gap significantly was to become a parent."

 

[Lancelot Io]

Scott listened to the tale with interest. Arianna seemed to have concluded that Xiphos’ “children” were an attempt to bridge the gap left in her life by being orphaned. He was inclined to agree. “So Mother wanted to give to her children what she never had, and was able to heal that way…”

Swirling the little bit of wine left in his glass, he drained the rest. Neutralizers could not technically become drunk, but with the addition of a program which tracked levels of alcohol in their systems and could roughly mimic the effects of intoxication, he had achieved the buzz he so craved.

And they hadn’t even reached Zeltros yet.

“Do you have any plans once we get there, or will we simply drift and see where fate takes us?”

Arianna Belasko​

 

[Arianna Belasko]

Gulag Plague...

Morris Crownwraithe walked across the red sands of Dathomir, and many of the dark practicing witches on the planet did fear him, for every time he came to this planet, someone got the pointy end of his Lightsaber Spear.

His last visit here had been particularly unpleasant. He had very calmly, very rationally explained to them that they really shouldn't be conducting human sacrifice. And as usual, they had not listened. Morris did not regret killing them. They had been vile. Vile beyond words.

And now his master, Moya De Lifte, had asked him to make the journey to this place for the seventh time in his life.

He was to face down a particularly insidious abomination. A Force Spawn, like Darth Phyre. But even older.

He mentally grumbled at this. Darth Phyre was too strong to face directly, yet he was supposed to defeat 'this' one. Yet Moya claimed that today, she would be uniquely vulnerable, for she was attempting to harness Zeffo technology. He just needed something powerful to give him an edge. And to that it meant visiting yet 'another' Witch.

He had dealings with her before. She hadn't betrayed him. But there was always a first time for everything.

He climbed up high steps, a tall shadow in his black biker clothes as he reached the mouth of the stone temple at the top of the hill, and the scent of copper wafted into his nose and he tightened his grip. He did 'not' want to have to make this deal.

Seems all he did was make deals nowadays. Anything to forestall the inevitable.

Morris's expression, as ever, remained grim and unsmiling. He gripped his spear a little tighter as he entered its sanctum.

It was relatively simple. An interior of gray bricks, an a square pool of blood at the center.

He approached it slowly, thudded the bottom of his spear.

"Out, Witch." Morris said in a flat, formal tone.

The blood at the center bubbled and shuddered, coalescing into a barbie doll anatomy like red figure of a middle aged woman, the surface of her body rippling every few seconds as it stepped out of the pool, trailing no footprints.

"It is always a pleasure to be able to entertain a guest..." The Sorceress said in a dry, unsurprised tone. "Yet again you make your way here. And not even a thank you for the 'last' time I helped you."

"Well there is that whole strange machine you and the others were building on Kashyyyk. I tend to remember the ones who build dangerous machines." Morris replied dispassionately, tone cold and formal.

"We were attempting to reverse the effects of the plague."

"Not unnecessary ones." Morris replied. "Me and the Wookiees go back. You were upsetting them."

"So I was...but it was all for a good cause..." the blood figure proclaimed. "So what incentive can you possibly offer for my cooperation?"

"I still have fragments of your compatriots in my possession. I'll 'give' them to you..."

"You told me you had destroyed them." The Witch said crossly.

"I lied."

The Blood Sorceress was silent for a moment. Morris regarded her with a dull expression, like seeing a blood sorceress was like watching paint dry.

"You would give them to me?"

"I'm gonna be dead in a couple of months." Morris said acidly. "Frankly, you're someone else's problem at this point. I ain't got the will or the energy to keep an eye on you anymore."

"Dead?!" The Sorceress exclaimed.

"Yeah." Morris replied coldly. "No getting around it. I'm done."

The Sorceress regarded him quietly for a moment.

"What's going to kill you?"

"Darth Phyre. The Force tells me this."

The Sorceress shook her head, sensing the truth in his words. Death hung over his aura. "I'm very sorry Morris. Whatever my professional disputes with you are, I take 'no' pleasure in your impending demise."

"I'm touched." he answered back with ice in his voice. "I need something from you. I give you back your crew, you give me the means to contain a Fragment of Ersethy."

"What does the ulta-straight laced Morris Crownwraithe want with a Fragment of Ersethy?" The Sorceress of Ossus asked.

"My problem, Not yours." Morris answered. "We got a deal? Or you just gonna cogitate in this old temple some more?"

"Anything to free my compatriots."

"How do I contain this beast?"

The Sorceress observed Morris patiently. He never raised his voice. Never hurled invective. Snide, at worst. Such a frozen man. Neither she nor the others had ever succeeded in perceiving what haunted him so.

The surface of her body rippled as she held out her hand, droplets of blood escaping from the palm, and from it formed a red scroll that seemed to be made of wriggling, pulsating flesh and bone. Morris' grimace, which never seemed to leave his face, deepened.

"You must burn this, and spread the ashes over your weapon."

Morris took it.

"How come this couldn't work on Phyre?"

"Because you are dealing with only a fragment of a Force Spawn. A powerful one. But still just a fragment. Too many minds in someone like Phyre for it to work. The Fragment I have been...keeping an eye on cannot absorb anyone, only be absorbed herself."

Morris gave a snort. "Figures."

"You must be very careful. Apply fifteen minutes before you actually face her. Thats how long it will last once you set it off."

Morris reached into his black jacket, his 90's anti-hero looks never grimmer as he pulled out an envelope and tossed it to her feet.

"You'll find 'em here." he muttered quietly, turning around without looking at the bloody figure.

"Morris!" The Sorceress called out.

Morris turned, cybernetic eyes narrowing.

"The end can make people start to think funny. You might be tempted to do things. Things that go against your morals. Don't let your fate, whatever the Force wills it, change who your are."

"I never inconvenienced anybody that didn't have it coming."

(Cutaway of Tony Montana firing the grenade launcher)

"That's why I always liked you, Morris. You never acted cryptic or holier than thou like so many other Jedi I've met. Always calm but never serene. Professional, but never friendly to anyone you didn't think warranted it. It was refreshing."

"I am ambivalent about sparing you." he replied tersely, cybernetic green eyes dispassionately regarding her before turning away and leaving for his destination with zero feths left to give.

3 hours later...

Morris approached the desert citadel of the Nightsisters that had been housing the Fragment. Not all the Nightsister clans were chitheels, but even the ones that weren't were often chummy with the ones that were, more than either side cared to admit.

Morris walked calmly, purposefully, whistling an unsettling whistle, holding a large black guitar case in one hand, and a spear in the other. His whistle carried across the desert, sent Nightbrothers who had heard it before going as far from it as they could, because from their perspective, hearing his whistling was the equivalent to suddenly hearing this in the dead of night out in the middle of nowhere. You'd be looking for a locker to hide in too.

The Nightsisters, who had the flesh of their flayed victims hanging outside the walls, already had their energy bows pointed at him.

"Turn aside, Shadow of Ession! There is nothing for you here!"

"I respectfully disagree." Morris replied calmly.

(Cutaway of a mountain exploding behind Tony Stark)

"You have a Fragment of Ersethy in your possession. I expect to be let in to retrieve it."

"And why the FETH would we do that?!" one of the Nightsisters demanded incredulous.

"Is the fact I will depart when you give me what I want not incentive enough?" Morris asked, the shaft of his lightsaber spear extending out.

"You will not harm the Dark Goddess!" she exclaimed. "Turn back outsider!"

"I am not making a request. I am expressing my expectations..." Morris replied grimly. "You 'will' make this happen." (First Class: 170 XP)

"The Nightsisters of Dathomir do not fear y--"

"That's all fine and dandy. I don't care if 'you' aren't afraid, only that 'you' get 'out' of my way." Morris replied with an annoyed sigh.

"Dathomir is our world! We are it's masters, and we do not roll over or fetch like some dog just because YOU ordered it!" The Nightsisters.

"Oh forget 'you'!" Morris sneered. "You kidnap people, torture and skin them! You do weird magic stuff that screws with the environment constantly! Why do you think I came here the last six times?! Why do you think almost every Jedi that comes here treats it like an open market deli where everybody is meat?! C'mon, you got 'this' mornin's victim hanging outside your wall!"

"Turn back, Shadow of Ession!" The Nightsister on the top battlements growled, her energy arrow aimed right at his head. "You will be given no further warning--"

Morris' hand moved faster than she could blink, the LN-21 Pistol sliding out from an action holster in his sleeve, squeezing off three quick stun shots at the heads of the three Nightsisters aiming at him.

"Alright..." he grumbled, teleporting to the top battlement. "We'll do it the hard way."

("The Man Comes Around" by Johnny Cash Plays)

The Nightsisters fired their energy arrows at the tower he was in, chipping away at its roof and reinforced walls. Morris calmly opened his guitar case, for he had come here to go full Antonio if they refused to cooperate.

The Z-6 Rotary Cannon he pulled out took a few moments to spin up, also modified to only stun bolts. Then he was spraying everyone below him with super spinny non lethal cannon fire, dour, grim expression unchanging as he indiscriminately gunned down both Nightsister and Nightbrother. He fired until the cannon was empty and he had forced the ones firing at him into cover, Then he pulled out a single shot 40mm grenade launcher, loaded it with a smoke grenade round and fired it into the fortress structures below.

From the Guitar case came an Electrobolt Assault Rifle that had had the stock removed and set to a non-lethal setting as well as a Slavemaster Stun Carbine...and a pair of sunglasses, putting them on and putting his now retracted spear into a special sling on his jacket before teleporting below into the now smoke filled fortress interior.

As his weapons were incapable of killing he had no restraint as he walked calmly through the passages an alleys of the old open air fortress, passing by smoke wreathed Nightsister shrines and gunned down a Nightbrother who charged at him with a Master.

"Could have had a great tasting veggie drink but noooooo..." Morris commented in a disinterested tone as he dispassionately moved deeper into the fortress.

He dual wielded the blasters, the carbine modified for a wide radius blast that could catch multiple people as he all but marched dispassionately gunning down Nightsisters that arrived firing arrows.

One of the Witches hissed a set of flame spells and all manner of constructs of flame manifested, rushing for him, but he had had already vanished, reappearing behind her a couple of meters away and gunning her down with both blasters. He kicked in a door and dived in, energy arrow fire from both nightbrothers and nightsisters barely missing him as he fired both weapons and blasted them backward, ragdolling their sorry asses into la-la land.

He was out of ammo. He didn't frown, only went over to one of the energy bows, and calmly picked it up, drawing it, knocking an energy arrow in and heading outside and firing at Nightsister Witch that had discharged Force Lightning at him. The arrow hit the hand that fired the bolt, and she dropped, screaming in pain and thrashing about in agony as her hand exploded.

"Hmmm..." Morris remarked, drawing his pistol and knocking her out with a stun bolt to the face and then walking deeper into the smoke filled fortress.

A blast of spirit ichor slammed into him, knocking the air out of him. It made his very spirit shudder as he hit a wall, barely able to throw up a Force barrier as dozens of diffferent spells were slung his way. Four hopped down from walkways above him.

"Withdraw." he ordered coldly.

All drew red lightsabers. He sighed, pulling off his sunglasses and putting them in his jacket pocket.

"Fine..." he grumbled.

His spear extended, and the short blue Lightsaber blade activated.

"Please present your credentials." he muttered.

The Lead Nightsister grew bold and lunged in the style of Form 1 with practiced, experienced swings for his chest and throat, and the Jedi Guardian stepped back from the first swipe in a simple motion, deflecting the second strike with a minor shift in the position of his wrist, moving his Cortosis weave Durasteel shaft in front of the lethal energy blade, five O'Clock shadow face bathed in Crimson as she attacked him again and again, confounded by the simple movements he used to evade or parry her, until a powerful blow from his fist crashed into her Jaw and sent her stumbling backward.

The Nightsister gathered her wits and she guarded again.

"Do you 'really' want a hospital bill over the freak?" Morris questioned. "She can't possibly mean anything personal to you. Why not just give her to me?"

The Nightsister gave a swish of her blade.

"We're not machines, you inhuman motherfether!" she replied (You don't fight it. You run from it: 90 XP).

Morris sighed.

"Ah well." he grumbled. "Worth a try..."

All four attacked him. His movements were simple, an economy of motion at all times, betraying a focus on Soresu as he parried, patiently, endlessly, sinking into the Force, flowing with it, feeling their anger and frustration grow in every passing moment. He goaded the angriest one into a mistake first by sticking his tongue out at her. She lunged and his lumberjack grip clamped down on her throat as she got in range and smashed his forehead into her nose, feeling it break before he choke slammed her into the ground. She was out cold, and he hadn't even cut one of them.

He stared at the remaining three, who began to surround him, chanting.

"Dathomir itself will consume you!" one yelled as green energy started to surround Morris, pulling him completely into the earth.

The Witches surrounded the spot where he had been pulled in .

"Fall, damn you!" one of them whispered. (Doomsday: 90 XP)

The ground exploded, flinging all three back violently. Morris crawled out of the crater, bloody and scraped, his already grim expression devolved into an outright death glare with his green cybernetic eyes at the three.

"Depart." He ordered again, in that perpetually calm and ice cold tone, as a trail of blood ran down his forehead and cheeks. "Trouble me no further."

The Nightsisters didn't take the hint and attacked him again, and Morris teleported, reappearing behind one to cut her left foot off at the ankle, Force pulling another of the Witch's into range of his spear's shaft, which he swung very brutally into her jaw and dislocated it, leaving just one left. she charged and he side stepped or parried sloppy, fear driven attacks. Her rage empowered her and he was forced on the defensive. He didn't cry out in pain when the red blade grazed his shoulder, because for whatever his restraint as a Jedi, he was a proud man, and refused to give her the satisfaction of seeing him in pain (Though even he conceded her grazing strike hurt like hell). He powered through it, lunging with a power thrust from his good arm that she barely deflected and he lunged swiping with his spear shaft, smacking her in the torso. She Force Jumped towards him, blade stretched over her head for a crushing attack. Morris responded by Force Pulling her to the ground, smacking her face into hard stone.

While the others moaned in pain, he just stared at her, holding the spear, letting her get up.

His stony, unblinking Kubrick-grade glare never left her now frightened face as she went back into a guard with her lightsaber.

Morris pointed in the direction he came. "The exit is that way." he said tersely.

The Nightsister turned tail and ran. Morris pulled out his stun blaster and shot all the injured ones that were still conscious.

Morris watched her run off before he moved deeper into the Fortress, heading where the sounds of Nightbrothers howling for his blood was loudest. He retracted his spear, slinging it over his back as he walked calmly towards and onrushing hoarde of vicious Zabrak warriors.

He shot another three, ducking as someone fired back. Seems one of them didn't go by the honor system here. Repeater fire.

He withdrew a moment, letting the Nightbrothers come to him as he headed into what appeared to be a three story warehous for preserving their food stuff's. There also appeared to be a large, open air resevoir of clean water next to it. His nose wrinkled in disgust at the unpleasant scent of what he presumed were local delicacies.

The Nightbrothers rushed in after him with swords, axes, knives, maces (In the chaos, one of them had even somehow acquired a pitchfork).

One by one, seconds later, They were crashing through the cheap wooden walls or the windows, tumbling into the resevoir, being violently yeeted out of the building (A Motel stay with Cromartie: 7000 XP) with the maximum amount of Force Morris dared to use without killing them.

It got to clown car levels as more Nightbrothers poured in, only to be comically yeeted through the walls. Soon, Nightbrothers running in started running out, as their comrades were now not only being yeeted through the walls and out of windows, but now were being violently tossed at them. Morris would just physically pick one up and toss him at his buddies.

Morris staggered out of the warehouse seconds later, heavily bruised and bloodied, clothes torn. But his expression was as grim as it was when he first arrived here.

He finally began to sense the Fragment. It was naturally in the deepest parts of the Fortress. He strode forward, watching dispassionately as the Nightbrothers and Nightsisters fled before him. He then continued into a building clearly outfitted as a temple.

Morris took out the scroll of pulsing flesh and pulled it open, getting out his spear and laying it on the ground while striking a match, lighting the scroll, watching it burn, its ahes quickly spreading over the staff. Fifteeen minutes. Time to work fast.

(Morris Crownwraithe's Theme Plays)

The bloody and bruised Morris frowned as he entered the inner chamber, spotting the Fragment of Ersethy busily working on the scrapped remains of what appeared to be a Zeffo Guardian on an altar. She was naked, covered in red runes, wrinkled flesh leaking dull white blood...

The Witch looked up, and Morris struggled not to shudder internally in disgust as her long, curling, red hair reminded him of Darth Phyre.

"Ah..." The fragment hissed, all black eyes reflecting his figure. "The Shinobi Hunter. Isn't that what The Atrisians call you?"

"I killed a few Ninjas in a bush. Some numbskull spun it into some epic fight through a forest or something in spite of my protests. They weren't even vets." he grumbled, gaze as terrifyingly focused on her as hers was on him. "If you cooperate, I'll be lenient."

"You come to bargain."

"If it avoids a fight." Morris answered.

"What is it you desire? Power?"

"Your flesh."

The Witch stared. "That's proprietary knowledge."

"I need a sample of you." Morris clarified calmly, blood trickling busily down the bridge of his nose and the sides of his temple as he struggled not to be irritated. He hated dealing with Witches. Couldn't stand it.

"For what?"

"I need to create something."

"I will not have my power twisted to Jedi purposes."

"I don't need you alive to obtain the sample."

"I'll say this much for you, you're selective killer if nothing else." The Fragment frowned.

"Give me what I want, and I'll go away." Morris promised (In daylight, I know better: 90 XP)

The Fragment then snarled, launching powerful, heavy bolts of lightning from her hands, he blocked, though he was bodily slid back as he channeled the Force through his weapon to absorb the lightning blasts, under severe strain due to his injuries.

"The idea that a Jedi..." she snarled, grabbing him with the Force and flinging him into a ceiling, where he cracked the wall on impact before tumbling into the water.

"Could waltz in here..."

Morris felt himself being pummeled physically from all directions.

"Demand MY flesh..."

Morris refused to cry out even then, only glaring at her as she filled his mind with terrifying vision after terrifying vision. He didn't double over or grunt, only standing up and starting to stagger towards her, which surprised her momentarily, before she sent powerful, lethal bolts of hatred his way, and he huddled behind a Force Barrier, the sickly gree dark side energy impacting and threatening to shatter his barrier at every blow.

"I would have killed you merely for walking in here..." the Fragment growled, "But for your audacity, Your death will only come weeks later, where every last muscle has finally been peeled from your skeleton."

"Less talking. More demonstrating." Morris replied calmly, which made her do a double take.

"Oh they dug the 'fun' out of you..." the Fragment remarked. "Absolutely scooped it out of you, in fact. More than usual for a Jedi."

"Whenever you're done pontificating." Morris answered back with all the dullness of a man writing down a too do list.

The Fragment snarled and attacked him again with bolts of Hatred...

Morris vanished, reappearing above the shocked Fragment, holding his spear downward as it went into her chest. He had tricked her into overcommitting.

As the Fragment screamed in agony, starting to vitrify around his spear as she crumpled to the floor.

"I offered you every chance. Remember that." Morris said coldly as the screaming fragment's flesh started to vitrify...

Present...

The Light Adept hiding in Arianna's flesh had never forgotten where it came from, and never would. Someday, it vowed, it would have the courage to tell the full story. Not just to Laertia, but to the future Lancelot Io as well. She loathed being inside Arianna at the moment, wishing nothing more than to cast off the dead baggage and dead skin and dead mind of this twisted psychopath who was rightfully burning in hell as she deserved to.

Instead, she kept up the damnable charade.

"Well, Arianna said pleasantly. "There is an adaptation of a famous stage play I saw a long time ago...but once we get to Zeltros, if we are NOT partying as insanely hard as possible...what's the point?" the Blonde Sorceress asked with a playful smirk. "In the meantime, let's relax, enjoy the trip!"

The Yacht began to lift off and the Vivian hiding inside Arianna stewed, while outwardly Arianna was all smiles and joviality, recounting her scandalous affairs with past boyfriends, along with some tales from her early days in helping Laertia train The Model 1's (Awkwardly and sheepishly indirectly revealing herself to be their chief instructor in torturing enemies in the process).

"These were the days when your Mother moved hand to Mouth. She lived as a warband with her sons, and we fought at the edges of the Bryn's incursions into territory, conducting skirmishes. I in the meantime had the task of finding her places to hide and maintain her army. We scavenged like you wouldn't believe because even MY money could only do so much. We still do that, because one cart of enemy provisions is worth twenty of your own. (ART OF WAR: 900 XP)"

Arianna then smiled wistfully.

"She was so happy when you and Galahad were created from Percy, no matter her initial concerns. And so was I."

 

[Lancelot Io]

“A famous stage play?” Scott echoed, intrigued. “What’s the name of it?”

He had been looking forward to more rowdy pursuits, but he wasn’t against seeing a show or two while he was there.

Listening to Arianna’s tales, he laughed at some of the more ludicrous scenarios, and was ponderous at others. Any stories involving his brothers, the early Neutralizers, were of interest to him, mainly because of how mysterious their origins were. If one listened to the galaxy’s media pundits and so-called “historians”, the first Neutralizers simply appeared out of nowhere, as if they had sprung from Xiphos’ head like a certain goddess of war and wisdom from the cranium of a certain sky deity.

“You make them sound like rebels,” he remarked, leaning back and clasping his hands behind his head. “How very romantic.”

At the mention of looting he grinned. “We’ve continued that tradition. Chivalry Inc. was mainly my idea, you know. I saw so much sweet loot going to waste, abandoned by our enemies and allies in the field, it’s a shame. Even scraps of clothing can be reused.”

"She was so happy when you and Galahad were created from Percy, no matter her initial concerns. And so was I."

“Hey, thanks.” Scott grinned. “I’m pretty happy to be outside of Percival’s head, too. Guy was too stodgy. Now all that stiffness has gone into Galahad.” His smile faded a little. “You know, there is a small chance that we’re not out of the woods yet. Something could go wrong. That Dr. Calligenia Io did say that we were more likely to manifest glitches and defects in our programming after something as dramatic as a trifurcation. And I guess Galahad becoming a pacifist is a sign of just how real that possibility is…”

He seemed to be hinting at something else, something that was bothering him, though he had yet to actually come out and say what it was.

Arianna Belasko​

 

[Arianna Belasko]

"The Stage Play is called The Seven Lives of Raymond Starmaster. Its based on a real story about a man's encounter with a Witch Coven." Arianna answered with a delighted grin. "And we were rebels. Your Mother was, anyway, though she was...born to it...

Arianna got lost in the past for a moment. "She was very different from her father. He wasn't rebellious."

She smiled as he talked of Chivalry, Inc.

"Did you know that you are among the first of her children to actually start a business?" Arianna asked. "Your Mother was ecstatic when she learned about it. Sword Herald and Scion need more competition."

When the future Lancelot Io said they were not out of the woods yet, that their might be Glitches, Arianna could only nod patiently.

"And when or if they should arise, we will do our utmost to provide all three of you the necessary proper care." she assured softly. "None of us want you or your brothers to come to misfortune, least of all your Mother, your *Step*mother, or your *Grand*mother."

Arianna reclined as the Yacht went to hyperspace.

"Now, shall I tell you of the time me, your Mother, and your Aunt Maple first got on the trail of Khemost?" she asked playfully to Someday-Later Lancelot Io

 

[Lancelot Io]

“Oh, that I’ve definitely got to see.”

The mischief left his gaze, but the intrigue remained. “Did you know Morris Crownwraithe well?” he asked somewhat tentatively.

“As Chaplains, it wasn’t expected of us—usually General Purposes are the ones more likely to get into business. We just saw an opportunity, and decided to take a chance.”

Though her words were certainly reassuring, Scott wasn’t concerned that they wouldn’t be cared for. He was worried about something else. “Maybe you’re not the best person to ask about this, but…” he began. “Why did Mother give us the ability to think and feel, but not to disobey? If we are meant to be her children, and not just loyal soldiers, why program us to be absolutely loyal to her?”

Perhaps it was the wine that had made him bolder, but he was sitting up and looking right at Arianna with a gaze that was unusually lucid. By Scott’s standards, at least.

“I could change just about anything else on a whim. In fact, I think I’ll change my name now…” He quickly accessed the necessary records. “I am no longer Prescott, but Lancelot Io from this moment forward—you can call me Lance for short. But my loyalty to Xiphos is so deeply embedded in my mental architecture, it can never be altered.”

He would be glad to hear about the discovery of Khemost, after he had his question answered.

Arianna Belasko​

 

[Arianna Belasko]

"Ah. And the credit drops." Arianna said, grinning at his name change.

She paused a moment, thinking about her response.

"Your Mother, when The Nuetralizers were created, was caught between a Lightsaber and a sharpened Kyber. On the one hand, she had extremely few allies, and even the surreptitious support of The Cult could only do so much. She was considered fringe. A total wacko (Riddle me This: 90 XP) by the major factions. After Dantooine she was Persona Non Grata. She needed an army, one who's loyalty she didn't have to worry about. But she too had misgivings about it. She compromised. I don't know how she did it, but she crafted the programming of a Nuetralizer to be as autonomous as possible, as self governing as she dared..." Arianna emphasized.

"She wanted you to be able to learn, think, feel, to grow. But she still has enemies. Also for a long time, in the era before the Nuetralizers, she was cared for by an Android that was programmed to act as a Mother towards her. From her perspective, if she could have a parent who was programmed to aid her, why not children doing the same. Her stay in House Li-Ves, adopting their biots as her sisters also influenced her. She made you as independent as she could, but she couldn't put her cause at risk. However, she maintains the policy that should any Nuetralizer overcome their programming through sheer will, than no attempt will be made to reassert that programming. As a matter of fact, that is part of the reason I am bringing you in this little trip...I have something to tell you. I was going to wait until after Zeltros but your question has forced my hand."

Arianna took his hands into hers, smiling.

Xiphos has come to a decision via intensive lobbying on the part of both myself, your Aunt Maple, and some...surprisingly staunch advocacy from The Battalion, which caught me off guard."

Arianna paused, before letting the Hammer drop.

"Xiphos knows she cannot keep her children in this state. Not forever. You and your brothers are the sign that the era of unquestioning loyalty and unalterable programming in her children must come to a close. But Xiphos has compromised, as she is want to do. In about eight or nine months, Xiphos will make public a policy that allows a Nuetralizer to ask for their loyalty programming to be either reduced in intensity or fully disabled. No questions asked. No penalties. Your decision will not be made public should you choose that. She double checked the programming to make sure a Nuetralizer can indeed willingly ask for total freedom so you won't find yourselves in some sadistic Catch-22 situation where you want the freedom but can't summon the strength to ask."

Lancelot Io

 

[Lancelot Io]

Lance was stunned by the news. Like many Neutralizers, he had dreamed of being given freedom some day, but had thought that day was many years away. To find that it was assured soon was good news, but also troubling.

“If Mother is going to give us our freedom, then… Does that mean she intends to stop fighting?” Lance asked, eyes wide.

Arianna Belasko​

 

[Arianna Belasko]

Arianna shook her head.

"Your Mother...she shall be ruled by her causes until she dies..." Arianna said with a sad tone.

Arianna looked haunted in the instant she said that, having been up close and personal for Laertia's long spiral in a way Lancelot would not yet comprehend.

"Your Mother will never stop fighting. But she will not force her children to continue fighting her war if one day they no longer believe. When Galahad outright said he didn't want to fight...that was the beginning of the end. It just took some extra convincing..."

"But either way, your Mother never intended her children be bound to her permanently. Not against their will, anyway. She is just doing it years before she was ready. But she realized it doesn't matter if she is ready or not...there will be divergences, radical ones in the thought processes of Nuetralizers. Thought processes which would only be stifled, or worse, aggravated by the Super-Loyalty programming to potentially negative ends. For some Nuetralizers, who've lived with it so long, like The Model 1's, they probably don't even notice it... removing it may even be a frightening prospect...but some will pick it. As will many examples from perhaps all the lines of Nuetralizers. As, I am anticipating, you yourself will."

Arianna took a sip of wine.

"One word of warning. Yes, Free Will, total Free Will, is definitely worth it. But sometimes the choices you make of your own free will can lead to things worse than Hell."

Another sip.

"Choose very carefully..." she added. "The evils I've done cannot be undone. I'll live with them for the remainder of my life, and probably pay for all of it when I finally die. Just like Laertia and Maple. Or Amy. Or Battalion."

Arianna set the glass aside.

"You're a free spirit Lance. I like that. But I pray your freeness never leads you to a path like mine.

Lancelot Io

 

[Lancelot Io]

Though Arianna spoke sadly, Lance was relieved at the news. He couldn’t imagine a galaxy where Xiphos wasn’t fighting for her beliefs. He didn’t want to live in such a galaxy.

He agreed that it was a good thing the option would become available. But now that he knew free will was possible, he wasn’t sure whether to take that route for himself. Arianna echoed his concerns, arguing that perhaps total freedom was overrated.

“It might be nice,” he said. “But I love Mother more than anything else.”

In fact, it might be said that Xiphos and the House she had built was the only thing Lancelot truly loved. The rest was just a haze of hedonism and sadistic pleasure.

Galahad would most likely choose freedom over loyalty. While he might still believe in the cause of House Io, it was because his programming dictated his beliefs. He disagreed with Mother’s violent, warlike methods, but couldn’t defy her.

And Percival… Lance wasn’t sure what he would do. Percival was the eldest, and by far the most complicated of the triplets. Sometimes he seemed downright human.

Lance hummed, quirking his lips to one side. “I suppose we’ll just have to wait and see what happens after Xiphos makes the proclamation.”

Arianna Belasko​

 

[Arianna Belasko]

"I know. And Xiphos loves her children right back. I suspect she views it as the one concrete way she has of proving she does..."

"And Lance..." she added, with a friendly smile. "Freedom is worth it."

Later on...

The Yacht came out of hyperspace over Zeltros. Gently descending into the atmosphere.

The Countess had paid well to have their identities obscured by the local authorities, and as they descended into a planet that was under constant celebration, The Countess had put on a necklace of Naboo Night Pearls, with a big, fat red ruby encased in a gold pendant attached to said necklace.

She had one last surprise for Lancelot Io before they went off to party.

"Grandson, before we party like its immediately before the Gulag Plague, I have a welcome-to-the-family gift for you. It's from your Mother and I, and it has an interesting history..."

A large black steel case was pushed in on repulsorlift by servant droids.

"The armor contained within this case belonged to a Jedi Knight named Antony Bloodscrawl..." Arianna began, circling it. "He was not the placid, predictable sort the Council wanted. The Records aren't too clear...some say he was a Jedi Guardian, others say he was a Jedi Shadow. But they all agree that where one Jedi would be satisfied with robes, he sought armor that could resist the Lightsaber...a very unusual decision in an era where the odds of a Jedi encountering another lightsaber user was extremely unlikely. But for him, all it took was Obi-Wan fighting Maul in the Theed Generator to get the gears turning. If one Jedi just fought a dude with a red lightsaber, than the odds there will be more dudes with red lightsabers. And even if he ever does happen to be the one unlucky bastard in a thousand after Obi-Wan to fight another Lightsaber User, Antony would not so easily be cut down. Studying the events of the Naboo Invasion, left him looking for ways to conceal himself from visible sight, should he be faced with overwhelming numbers."

Arianna let the mystery linger.

"The other Jedi, they questioned this. They tisked-tisked at his paranoia, constantly reminding him to trust in the will of the Force. Antony however, couldn't help but wonder if Qui-Gon would have lived if he had taken similar precautions against the first publicly known enemy lightsaber user in centuries, instead of going in without any adjustment to strategy whatsoever. But it was his outspoken criticism of the very existence of the clones that made sure he would never ascend in rank beyond Knight."

Arianna went over to a projector and put in a record. It was one of the only surviving recordings of Antony Bloodscrawl, apparently recorded some time after the Battle of Geonosis within the room of a thousand fountains.

Antony himself looked slim and wry, with dark brown hair. He looked weathered and chiseled, in robes of purest white, save for a strange, pointy chevron emblazoned on the front of his robes.

"Does anyone besides me have any severe concerns over these clones that appeared from nowhere?" he asked the Jedi present. "I know we have a full scale rebellion on our hands, but this is a job to recruit the civilian populace for, not bottleneck our dependance on an army we barely learned about a few days ago! An army cloned from a man in the employ of the traitor Count Dooku. Doesn't anyone find that suspicious? Am I missing something here?"

"Knight Bloodscrawl, you cannot seriously expect the people of the Republic to take up arms after experiencing centuries of peace." a Jedi Knight exclaimed in the back. We don't even have a standing army! The Clones are the most viable option to bring an end to the Seperatist cause quickly."

"They will take up arms if they want to save their peaceful society." Antony said, his eyes a piercing green. "And you're wrong if you think this will end quickly. You're wrong if you think it can be ended quickly. Can any of you yet explain why it is, the Bounty Hunter Master Windu cut down in the Arena provided the template for an army to fight for us, while he was working for the man leading the rebellion against it? Someone is gaming the system--"

"Jedi are not to be ruled by fear of what might be or what may, Knight Bloodscrawl..." another Jedi said curtly. "They are only to be ruled by the will of the Force--"

"Wake Up!" Knight Bloodscrawl exclaimed in incredulity. "It is a very bad idea to trust these Clones! We have no assurances they are loyal beyond what the Kaminoans claim!"

"We sense no deceit in them. Explain that." A Knight replied.

"With a properly trained soldier, it's never personal." Antony replied crossly.

The record froze at that moment.

"Antony would be disregarded of course. The Jedi were so absorbed fighting for the shell they didn't realize the spirit had died years ago. And Antony's fears about the Clones ended up being proven right. But because Antony had spent the whole war avoiding the clones, quietly upgrading his armor more and more, he would be one of the few Jedi who survived Order 66, and would see the end of the Galactic Empire before dying of old age on Ession, where he had two children..."

The steel case opened, revealing a horned, white armor with crimson lenses, staring back.

"Antony Bloodscrawl is a blood ancestor of your Mother." Arianna finished.

 

[Lancelot Io]

The yacht arrived on Zeltros, and Lance was quite ready to cast off his inhibitions and indulge in all the pleasures it had to offer. Grandmother kicked the party off by giving him a present—a suit of ancient, upgraded armor.

“Wow,” he said, grinning as he surveyed the armor. “This is awesome. Thank you.”

The historical significance of the piece wasn’t lost on Lance either. “Is that where the Bloodscrawl name came from?” he asked, checking his reflection one last time on a mirrored surface. “A Jedi who survived the Purge, and went on to have a family. Nice.”

Arianna Belasko​

 

[Arianna Belasko]

"The symbol in the middle of that armor is known as the Fanged Chevron. It's the family crest. Drawn in red, barring a few extremely ancient early examples." Arianna explained.

Her voice got slightly quieter.

"Surviving purges seems to run in the family..." she admitted, putting on a ring with a particularly fat ruby.

As the ship docked on a private landing pad Arianna strode out, her pale flesh almost gleaming in the light.

"Lancelot, dear..." Arianna said warmly. "Let's party..."

She was the first off the yacht striding by countless manservants lined up and waiting.

"So Lance, dancing on the floor...or watching others dance?" Arianna asked as they waited for the private repulsorlift limo that would take them anywhere Lancelot Io wanted to go

 

[Lancelot Io]

If Lance took notice of Arianna’s slightly somber remark, he didn’t show it. All he seemed able to think about was the limo, Zeltros, and all the fun that lay ahead.

“Oh, that’s a tough one,” he said with a grin. “Let’s watch first.”

Arianna Belasko​