Private From the Abyss

[Kyyrk]

T R A U M A

0300 hours

Roon
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The ship was consumed in a cacophony of noise. Alarm klaxons threatening to drown all other sounds, soldiers shouting and dying, and beasts howling in triumph. The ship was lost. Her captain had issued an order. All hands were to evacuate, and he would scuttle the ship. The nest was eradicated, and this would destroy the survivors. He only hoped he would be able to clear the event horizon in time.

The next he knew, he was surrounded by fire and void. The refuge burned. He was no longer welcome. He'd not stopped the threat. But it had been delayed. For how long, he knew not. But he'd angered the gods in doing so. Tearful goodbyes were said. For he knew he'd not see her again. Not that the companion he'd held so dear had ever been close to him. But it was the memory that counted, right? He turned to face the darkness, lifting a hand to shield his face. His time amidst the void had changed him. Perhaps for the better. It was anyone's guess. His stance deepened. The shards of his surroundings were torn away amidst the winds. The storm would soon be upon him as well. He braced himself as well as he was able, but was swiftly torn from his footing.

End over end he tumbled through the storm, beaten and battered by the other debris within the maelstrom. His armor stripping itself from his body piece by piece. A desperate grab was made for his lightsaber, but even it was torn from him in the storm. His fist clenched at the thin air where his most trusted ally had once been. He was now tossed and turned in such ways that he could not possibly know which end was up. But soon, it did not matter. He felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end as power surged through him. Lightning began to crackle all about him, several tendrils arcing out to find targets on the ground far below. He felt his body grow warm, an intense heat surged through him. And just as suddenly as the storm had begun, a large object slammed into him from behind as the lightning struck. The world went black. Peace, at last.

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Near the citadel on Roon, a storm was brewing. Nothing that was cause for alarm. Not yet. But that began to change. The storm slowly grew in intensity, lightning striking the grounds near the citadel, forcing the inhabitants to take cover. Those brave enough to look to the sky saw the twisting clouds, and the glow of an immense strike preparing to land. When it did, the ground shook. They saw, before the strike, a large object falling towards the ground. In fact, some even said it was carried by the same bolt of lightning that created the large crater in the ground. Then, just as quickly as it arrived, the storm dissipated. Smoke obscured the crater from view. Any who wished to see what had landed would have to wait, or venture into the unknown. Somewhere, a small being ruffled his feathers. <<He's....back.>>

Taiia Mataan || Srina Talon

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[Srina Talon]

R O O N
Tag: Kyyrk | Taiia Mataan | NPC Horace
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Silver eyes drew away from the cacophony of black storm clouds that loomed far too close the Citadel for her liking. The pale woman had taken refuge on one of the higher balconies after an evening training simulation only to feel the pressure shift. Her ears popped. On the ledge, sat a cup of piping hot tea that had long since gone ignored in favor of mother nature raising some new hell on their doorstep. She could feel the unease of her cohort and a delicate wave of her hand hushed his protest. Horace had been a rather constant companion as of late. Soulful, and worried at how she would perceive him. The Exarch had ordered him not to tell the former Lord Commander that she had sent him and the avian familiar had tried his best to keep his beak closed. It was too important. Srina had sent the white-spotted owl on a vital assignment. He had thought he had served his new master well.

Voph left. Sent him home—His adventure at an end.

Srina had never spoken of it, merely, to gather the winged creature close as she had when he was a young owlet. Head beneath her chin. Soft fingers to smooth ruffled feathers in careful motions that also had an uncanny way of dashing away any sense of inadequacy. The information that Kyyrk had left her with was definitively cryptic. He was gone.

The lightning struck the ground and left black marks in the training fields. She could smell the ozone, Hear the cries of panicked warriors and assistants trying to stow their gear and get out of the way. The Knights Obsidian were quick to organize but there were also civilian staff to keep an eye out for. They didn’t seem to be reacting well. Srina could see the sky above ripple as if a thick, dark smoke, had come to claim them. The weather was unusual but that wasn’t what kept her focus. Plenty of planets had strange weather. Plenty of the Knights were powerful enough to alter the environment in a localized area.

None could do it quite like this. None, felt like this.

When light so bright that it split the midnight black like a boulder in the sea, she reached up to cover her eyes for a moment. She heard the impact before she could finally focus to see again. The feeling that emanated was pointed, familiar, but wholly unexpected. She could feel the weight of what Horace had spoken the back of her mind. The truth of it. “Come.”, she murmured to the owl who lifted from his perch and landed on her leather-covered arm without a word.

The halls were buzzing. She could see staff huddling together, speaking in hushed, frightened whispers that immediately halted when she passed. “This is Exarch Talon. I will require an investigative team and air transport suitable for turbulent weather immediately. Ensure one standard droid complement.”, the diminutive woman spoke almost cruelly into her holo-comm before glacial eyes began to survey those around her. It didn’t really seem to matter that she wasn’t in charge of this installation directly. She was their Exarch, a Dread Queen, and it seemed as if she were preparing to go out into the unknown.

“Get away from the windows. Return to duty or to quarters until the all-clear is given.”

Comms would already be calling this into the Lucrehulk that sat in orbit. Everything within the Confederacy was a well-oiled machine. The Vicelord would be checking in before too much time had passed and she would be remiss if she didn’t have anything to tell him.

The assembly of her small ship was handled in record time. Whether they were simply that efficient or whether they simply feared meeting her standards was unclear. The white-haired woman wore a purple version of the original Knight Obsidian uniforms and the amethyst hexes it boasted were well known to the rest of the galaxy. Especially, in this shade. A long braid swayed side to side as she approached the droid pilot and gave him clearance to lift off. The assembled team was haphazard but effective.

It would suffice.

<<…It really is him?>>

Still, she said nothing. Horace hated that. His feathers fluttered and his head cocked to the side. He knew she could hear him. <<Mother? Is it?>>

She glanced down to Horace and her lips pressed into a thin line.

“We will see.”

The ship took off and headed toward the crash site without so much as a whisper along the ground beneath it. Optimized engines were quiet, though, the travel was impressively swift. These ships weren’t designed for space but they could travel very fast on minimal power as long as they didn’t break the atmosphere. It wouldn’t take long to reach the crater left behind. The storm seemed to be clearing.

Srina couldn’t yet tell if that was a good thing or a bad thing—Only, that it was unusual. Powerful.

 

[Kyyrk]

A M N E S I A
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The charred rock steamed and screamed, the man lay motionless on his back, nestled in the hole his body had created upon impact. Visibility was low in the deep of the pit. The man's eyes snapped open, and he immediately snapped up to a sitting position, primed to stand up, but something stopped him. Pain. Intense pain. He faltered, tried to catch himself, but fell back prone on the ground. The man grunted, suppressing the scream of agony he so desperately wished to unleash. But he would not. He was better than that. He lay on the ground for a moment, willing the pain to subside. It did not.

He didn't know why he did that. Everyone knew you could not just 'will' away pain. His entire body ached. Questions began to flood his mind. Where was he? What had happened? Was he even still alive? As if by instinct, his right hand reached for his left arm, only to slap down against the metal of his cybernetic limb. The man stared at it for a moment. What....WAS this? It seemed to be armor on his arm, but....the more he thought about it, the more he realized it was the one part of his body that didn't hurt. It wasn't on his arm, it WAS his arm. Whatever he'd been reaching for wasn't there anymore.

The man sat up, looking around him. Metal fragments littered the ground about him. Shrapnel? Parts of a ship? He paused, reaching over to collect a nearby piece. He grimaced with the effort, his ribs felt as though they were on fire. The slender plate of metal was plucked from the ground with relative ease, and turned within his hand to reveal a skeletal jaw and red eye. A droid? Perhaps it had attacked him. Suddenly, the man felt the urge to lift it to his face. A perfect fit. As the metal touched his brow, his mind was filled with visions of darkness and death. The being that had worn this mask had surely been a god of death and chaos. He ripped it away from his face, casting it into the mist.

After drawing a few deep breaths to calm himself, he looked about the small crater, and slowly tried to stand. He was unsteady, feeling a wave of nausea wash over him. He tipped forward, the meager contents of his innards spilling onto the ground in front of him. There was little to produce, but that did not keep the man from heaving for a few moments. He rested a moment, hands braced against his knees, before furrowing his brow. The ground looked different. He reached down, and brushed a finger across the dirt. Something was wrong with it. It looked...wrong... The man blinked in confusion. He couldn't place it. It was...normal. But something was wrong with it. Suddenly the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. Something was coming.

The man looked around for a weapon. Something to defend himself. He was sure he looked a fearsome sight, clad in nothing but a tattered bodyglove. There was a small object in the dirt that his instinct told him to grab. As he withdrew it, a small blade was revealed. But it did not have a handle on it. It looked as though it was meant to be mounted on something, not held. But it would do for now. As figures began to draw closer to him through the mist, the man called out, in a tongue as ancient and eldritch as he, "Stay back!" As the man lifted the blade in front of him to defend himself, he wondered: What language had he just spoken? Sith. He did not know what word this was, nor did he know why that word came to mind. More importantly, why had he thought of it as ancient and eldritch as he was? The man forced the confusion down. Safety first.

Srina Talon | Taiia Mataan

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[Srina Talon]

R O O N
Tag: Kyyrk | Taiia Mataan | NPC Horace
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"Every man has his secret sorrows that the world knows nothing of. We will often call a man cold when truly...He is sad. Perhaps, it is that." - Srina
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The words that she had spoken to Horace on Life Day lingered in her mind. His knowledge of the galaxy had been rather limited at that time. He knew what he knew about the human condition from holo-novels and her own experience. Needless to say—His new Master had been a bit of a mystery. It was something that the avian familiar had been deeply invested in solving. The wintry Exarch had been worried the two wouldn’t get along. It seemed that Horace was quite taken.

The puddle jumper slid through the smoke and mist with relative ease. The air smelled different here. Ozone gave away to a burning scent that scorched her nostrils when the airlock unfolded and lowered a ramp. The hydraulics steamed to compensate for their weight and Horace took flight the moment he could. Too quick, too eager. She let it be. His excitement was palpable but she refused to pour into what could be a fantasy. His hopes were high and buoyant.

Srina would hate to see them come crashing down.

The Exarch was acutely aware of the Magnaguard that had awoken from stasis. Their red eyes and metal appendages pounding in the empty expanse was a comfort. She appreciated the team of Knight Obsidians and even perhaps an Obsidian Lord or two that had joined of their own volition, but she craved the simplicity of mechanical warriors. There was too much running through her mind that she had no words for.

Voph was not simply gone; He had left. He had chosen to leave.

It wasn’t until her booted feet touched blistered earth that she realized the absence had bothered her. Deeply. He had held the forbearance to formulate some sort of farewell with the missive that had been entrusted to Horace but that didn’t remove the sting. The personal loss. Words meant so very little to an Echani. It was action that drove her—And his actions had paved the way toward little more than silence in the glom. A hole, where he might have been. “Stay alert and keep your heads on a swivel. Don’t rely solely on the Force—It is clear that this was no natural storm and whatever it exuded may be of hostile design.”

The Confederacy had many enemies. She wouldn’t put it past any of them to try and usurp their stability by attacking an Obsidian Citadel. She kept one hand behind her back while she crept forward with caution and agency. The Magnaguard sped ahead and the wind of their movements stirred lengths of long moonlit hair that rolled freely down her back. She hadn’t had the time to pull it up. Something glinted in the shadow and her free hand raised. It stopped an object that she didn’t recognize.

A mask?

She could remember a time when she had worn one to hide the damage that had been done to her on Kuat. Time had healed her wounds; but she still remembered the hate. The power that grew stronger with anonymity and righteous, passionate fury, guiding her hand. An invisible tether brought the mask to her hand and she looked it over in silence. The wealth of unambiguous experience almost dripped from it. Whomever it belonged to was skilled. A Master in their craft.

Why had it been flung in her direction?

She could feel the man she had once known as the Lord Commander not far away. It was the same pulse, the same breath of life, and nigh unmistakable. Still. She refused to trust her eyes nor the Force. It could be manipulated. Her instincts were her compass when the mist closed around them like a shroud—And she would follow nothing else.

The Exarch clipped the mask to her belt and pulled free a glow-rod that she cracked, shook, and threw forward. It brought a dim orange glow that lit the path. At the end of it stood a man. The build was familiar. Keen Echani eyes missed nothing, though, and something was definitely amiss. The words that flowed held a voice that rang true. But, the language. It was all wrong for him.

Perfect for her.

“I am Srina Talon, Exarch, of the Confederacy of Independent Systems. Who are you?”

Only, she hadn’t spoken in Galactic Basic. It was the same eldritch, ancient, and forsaken tongue that the stranger had used. It was one of the first things she had learned under the tutelage of the Vicelord. It came to her broken bits and pieces until her grasp on it was quite firm.

The man delivered from the storm?

He spoke High Sith.

 

[Taiia Mataan]

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From the moment her feet left the ramp of her ship Roon felt in turmoil, as if something or somebody was creating an imbalance in the force. For her part the Force willed and she followed as it had nearly every step of the journey she had taken as a young Squire of the Knights Obsidian. Roon would prove no different, the Force had drawn her, leading her once again to this quiet world. She could feel a number of presences upon the world, of course the Enclave was here as well as a small force of the Knights that remained after they had relocated here because of the Calamity. She quietly hoped no such crisis was about to begin again, but she had no sense of dread or threat only a compulsion to move forward.​

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While walking a thick mist began to envelope the area, visibility would be low but she would not be relying on her eyes here anyways. Further along a second presence was palpable, darker yet it felt more like the Vicelord but not, though she had felt it before. She had only been in the room with his apprentice Srina Talon on a few occasions, but the sense of her was equally unique. Her presence here could mean many things but, chief among them that she was wandering into something that she was better off not being involved in, but when the force willed she answered. In time she found herself emerging into a break in the mist where she found Srina and across the way another sprawled on the ground struggling to stand.​

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She simply stopped at the exarch's right side and observed as the Exach presumably replied to the figure, the language was known to her but only parts of words that she had learned from her own studies. High Sith of course was a very dead language except in very few circles. Green eyes turned to regard the exarch before flicking back ahead of them. "Exarch Talon, I am surprised to see you here." was all she said ever so softly as her green eyes focused through the mist, this figure was familiar yet different.​

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Tags: Kyyrk Srina Talon​

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[Kyyrk]

C O N T A C T
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A second figure joined the first. Whispers among themselves. The man did not know what they were saying. One of the figures withdrew something from their belt, manipulated it with their other hand, then tossed it towards him. The man instinctively raised his empty left hand and thrust his palm towards it. But nothing happened. What was supposed to have happened? The man looked at his hand slowly, brow furrowing in puzzlement. Then, the figure that had tossed the item, a glowing stick of some kind, called back to him, fluent in the same dark tongue he had spoken. Srina Talon. The name....sounded familiar. And yet he knew no one by that name. Another flash of memory consumed his mind. A flash of light. Rubble falling about him. A wintry figure visible nearby, also crushed by the falling rubble. And just as fast, it was gone.

The man paused, turning his face towards the figure. "I...I do not know...who I am." The arm holding the blade aloft slowly began to sink. He did not know why, but something told him he could trust these people. "Where...am I?" This time, he spoke not in Sith, but Huttese. The man suddenly realized his eyes were burning from the smoke, and clenched them shut, bending over and emitting a low grunt of pain. Eyes. Why did his eyes hurt? They had never hurt before. Something was wrong with him. Something was very wrong with him. His body hurt all over. He forced himself to stand up straight again, eyes still clenched shut. He could, however, still feel the two figures standing, watching him.

"I mean no harm. I just...need...to know who I am." This, he said in basic. He did not know why he knew all these languages. Nor why his head hurt so bad. But he knew that he needed help. And this...Srina could help him. He could trust her. Friend. The man took one step, then another. His hand dropped the blade, and instead pressed against his side. His ribs were broken from the impact, that much he could surmise. How, he did not know. But he knew that his ribs were broken. He had to convince Srina to help him. And possibly, those with her. It was his best chance at survival...

Srina Talon | Taiia Mataan

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[Srina Talon]

R O O N
Tag: Kyyrk | Taiia Mataan | NPC Horace
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"Not everything is solved with death and carnage. I've seen too many wars like that." – Voph
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She remained eternally aware of the presence of those that accompanied her. The Knights Obsidian were still on edge. They had been ever since the cataclysm. Gerwald Lechner did his best to keep them from falling into their own nightmares and insecurities, but still, they bore the scars of miserable tragedy. It was akin to the way Ryloth and Olanet still suffered.

The blood had been washed away but the wound persisted still. The memory remained. Eroded. Not gone. The loss of even a former Lord Commander was almost too much for many to take. They regarded each other as family. Brothers, sisters. This…This would be difficult for them to accept or deny. Much the same way she stood on the opposite edge of the chasm as Horace—So would their people be divided.

It was good that the crimson-haired Obsidian Lord remained behind the invisible line. Taiia Mataan would never know that the Exarch was prepared to eviscerate whatever thing emerged from the crater if it spoke in any way, she found displeasing. One wrong word. One wrong gesture and the landscape would merely boast one more scorch mark. One more body for the heap—One more problem solved.

“Expect the unexpected Lord Mataan.”

The words were neither kind nor cruel. They were empty and devoid of any emotion, truly, presented as if she were less near-human than the Magnaguard creating the perimeter. In truth…Her presence at the Roon Citadel was happenstance. She had actually planned to visit another site, but something, some presence in the Force had driven her to change her schedule. Was this it?

Hard metallic eyes stared into the orange-tinted mist without a shred of recognition.

<<Mother…Mother I can’t see. I feel him. It must be.>>

She could feel his hope and it burned her as if branded. Every time the man spoke it struck a chord of familiarity. His language changed and she frowned, deeply, when the interloper claimed not to know who he was. Could it be some form of amnesia? The mask she had caught was familiar. It was familiar in the same vein as the voice. The presence. But by the Moon, could the Force deceive.

He was nearly naked in a torn-up body glove. Keen orbs assessed the threat. Noted, the mechanical limb. The closer she drew the more the pieces of the puzzle made less sense. He seemed to be looking at her. But, that couldn’t be. Voph couldn’t...He was Miralukan. Wasn't he? “…You can see us?”

Basic, now. All of these languages…It suggested some sort of head trauma.

Or…It wasn’t him at all.

“We both need to know who you are.”, she uttered as he began to approach, struggling, not to ignite her saber as a reflex. Something stayed her hand. Perhaps, it was the broken gait. The obvious sign of injury. Srina swallowed once. Breathed, and fought not to choke on the noxious air. ”—Do not make any sudden movements, traveler, and I will guarantee your safety. I will warn you once and only once. If you make me regret not killing you on sight, if you cross me and mine, I will go through you like a door. Is that in any way unclear?”

<<Mother!>>

<<Quiet, Horace.>>

Insufficient data was the key to failure. An opening, for danger. The Exarch approached the strange man and cracked another glow rod. Soft features were highlighted and eyes that were sharp, as only broken glass could be, surveyed the man. He was different. Changed. If this was the Miralukan they knew…He had been delivered from the unknown a changed being. Memory…In tatters. Damaged.

A long moment would pass before she crossed the distance.

It looked like Voph; But not. She knew him. Knew his face.

Not like this.

“…Lord Mataan…Have our people see that the area is secured and ensure that this is our only visitor. Send in medical from the transport, a gravstretcher, and send in an exploration unit to take samples of the surrounding area.”

The distant hoot of an owl caused her eyes to close for a moment. There was a flicker behind them. Unreadable, for most. But it was there. Seeing him this way? Her friend, were it him?

It brought her pain.

 

[Taiia Mataan]

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Taiia stood watch quietly extending her senses away from them as far as she could, while Srina was questioning their guest she would be probing for more uninvited guests, though as she did her eyes were focused on the figure before her, senses were telling her one thing but her eyes another but this mystery would be solved in due time. For now she was simply content to observe yet she was keenly aware of the presence of the exarch as well she might have even relaxed some had she not been present.​

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It was as she said expect the unexpected, she had definitely come to do that but this situation was hard to expect at all, still such thoughts were pushed out of her mind and remained still why Srina took the lead. She was a bit surprised when Srina gave her an order but she recovered rapidly. "I will take care of it." she turned on her heel and walked away from the standoff just out of earshot to relay her commands to the forces on Roon.​

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For the Knights not much was located here for the moment, a few droids and several Knights, she had instructed them to enlist the aid of the Enclave if needed and sweep the immediate perimeter as well as outlying positions and potential hiding spots. After a few minutes time soft footsteps would signal the return of the Obsidian Lord and she would return to the Exarchs side. "It's done" Srina struck her as one who didn't need more detail than necessary so she left it there.​

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Tags: Kyyrk Srina Talon​

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[Kyyrk]

S U R R E N D E R
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The man halted at the edge of the smoke cloud, as the Exarch woman informed him that he was to do what she said, when she said it. Unless of course, he had no value for his life. He drew a short breath, then nodded slowly. "I...understand. I am a threat, aren't I." The man slowly drew himself to his full height, and raised his arms in front of him. Fists clenched and turned upwards, wrists together. He knew they would wish to restrain him. In this gesture, he showed that he would come quietly. His organic hand was shaking, however. The man loosened his fist, and re-tightened it in an effort to stop the shaking. He felt a throbbing in the back of his head, and grimaced as it grew to a peak, before it felt as if something snapped. <<Horace. She is right.>>

The man took a step back, his eyes flying open and the shock readily apparent on his face. How did he do that? Who was Horace? As he answered the question, however, he knew. He felt the presence of the owl near by. Horace. Friend. But his mind quickly turned back to...whatever had happened. Somehow...deep down...he knew that his thoughts had not been his alone. He had some how...projected them. But in a rough manner. Unfocused. The thought had ripped from his mind like a wave, washing over everything nearby. The man took another breath, then regained his composure.

"I...apologize for the outburst, Lady Exarch." The man's head bowed. He was a threat. To them, and to himself. Until he could calm his mind, and control the rampant energy coursing through him, he would be a threat to anything near him. Something told him that he used to be able to control this power. But now, he could not remember. "I would not wish to harm you. Not willingly. Perhaps it best I am subdued until the trauma has passed." The man slowly sank to his knees, arms still out stretched. Another sign of submission. He was still disoriented, but seemed to know a good deal about combat, and the ways to make yourself appear less threatening. "Do with me as you would see fit, Lady Exarch. My life is in your hands."

Taiia Mataan | Srina Talon

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[Srina Talon]

R O O N
Tag: Kyyrk | Taiia Mataan | NPC Horace
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Soft hands reached around his head to hide eyes that couldn’t see. It was a childish thing and her words were delivered in an exceedingly deadpan fashion. “You may guess who, now.” – Srina
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Srina nodded brusquely when Taiia Mataan responded appropriately to her directives. The diminutive woman was used to passing orders through to subordinates and oft expected them to be followed without question. The notion of offering gratitude or courtesy was not something that occurred to her. Every piece of her personality seemed to be locked away, hidden and replaced with uncompromising professionalism. Some of the Knights Obsidian had a bet running as to whether or not she was actually flesh and blood; Not some sort of advanced HRD project.

“Inform me immediately if there have been reports anywhere else on the planet of storms like this. Strange occurrences. Cast as wide of a net as possible, lest, we miss anything of note.”

Silver eyes remained glued to the unknown traveler throughout her discussion with the Obsidian Lord. He seemed to agree to her terms and for the time being, that would have to be enough. The Citadel on Roon likely had its fair share of interrogation procedures, however, the Exarch would likely perform that duty in her own way. Aside from a few key individuals and perhaps a few Vylmirans…Who really knew Kyyrk better than she? His connection to Horace notwithstanding—She would not be fooled.

The gravstretcher was brought forward and she felt a twinge of electricity in the air. It was barely there. Enough to make the hair on the back of her neck stand up. Silver orbs were drawn to the clouded sky and she could see Horace circling above, observing. The avian familiar would be crushed, brutally, if this was some sort of charade. The man wearing the mutilated guise of Voph bowed and apologized for his behavior. His Force Signature burned bright in her mind’s eye, briefly, before he fell to his knees. Arms outstretched. Ready, and waiting for restraints.

He placed himself at their mercy.

Srina moved with the floating gurney and approached him. His features were so changed. So different. His words that he didn’t wish to cause harm with the unequivocal submission had placed her with a less than delicate quandary. She didn’t move right away, but instead, took a moment to catalog the differences. Pale hands reached out, carefully, to lay on either side of his face.

Eyes.

He had eyes.

Looking into them was incredibly surreal. The changes in his physiology were startling. An almost predatory profile complete with cheek, rather, fleshy jowl tendrils that had most definitely not existed before. Something about it struck her as familiar but she couldn’t place that either. Her fingers would feel cool in contrast to the residual heat from the impact of the crater. Surprisingly soft, despite, her heartless warning. “I know you. Knew, you. The man you…Appear to be.”

“He would never harm me.”

That didn’t mean that this iteration of him wouldn’t. Only that perhaps, the Exarch was beginning to consider the possibility that they were one and the same. The closer she got…The more it felt like him. His presence was subdued. But, there. His voice was the only part of him that remained the same. The rest? All new, all changed. Srina released him and let the medical team help him onto the gravstretcher before securing his wrists to the side rails.

That would keep him secure until they got back to the Citadel.

“We’ll see to your injuries first. Get you clothed, fed.”, Srina spoke quietly, though, easily able to be heard. A quick glance toward Taiia Mataan would exchange that she wanted these things to happen in order. It was also a question. Did the red-haired Obsidian Lord recognize him as she did? Had she known the former Lord Commander? Srina, was uncertain. “After that, you will be placed in isolated observation to recover. There will be security—Though they will not harm you unless they are given cause.”

“In time…We will talk. We will confirm your identity and figure out what happened to you.”

 

[Taiia Mataan]

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She gave an affirming nod to the Exarch as she explained her expectations regarding the security sweep, they were both of the same mind here that absolutely they needed to be as thorough as possible and be absolutely sure nothing was missed. Aside from that she stepped back and let Srina resume the lead in investigating the situation, emerald eyes taking note of every detail of their visitor.​

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The young Obsidian Lord studied the Exarch, she was distant yet attentive and left no doubt that if Voph or whomever this was were a threat he would not be long for this plane of existence. She turned her gaze from the exarch back to Voph turning the question over in her mind repeatedly both her instincts and the force were telling her it was Voph how was it possible? She had seen plenty off oddities with the Nightsisters and even participated in bring him back from the dead once before so doubting the force was not an option.​

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The one question in her mind was why wont the universe, and why wont the force let the man rest? Surely he had lived long enough and done enough at this point. The other thing is that death was a part of the natural cycle of the force if one exists outside of death what sort of potential imbalance was occurring because of it? While she continued to analyze and question the ramifications she watched Srina do her own examination as the gravstretcher arrived.​

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When her eyes met Srina's she could feel the unspoken question and a short nod was all she gave in reply, if the Exarch had further inquiry it would be something they could discuss but that would best be done away from the subject of said inquiry. Taiia would simply instead fall into step with the stretcher and the Exarch continuing to think on the puzzle before them.​

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TAG: Kyyrk | Srina Talon​

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[Kyyrk]

O B S E R V A T I O N
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The man moved in junction with the medical team, willingly laying on the stretcher, and holding his arms just so to make strapping him down easier. He didn't intend to be a danger to anyone. He would comply with all requests. He did not, however, speak again. Unless he was asked a direct question, he fell silent. The unfocused look in his eye suggested that he was lost within his own mind. And he was. For when the Exarch had laid her hands upon him, he had received another vision. A small plaza on a garden world. A bonfire. Snow. Something weighed heavy on him. But it was made better by the arrival of the Exarch. She did not share his pain, but understood it. The two were indeed friends. Even if she had threatened him with a small clump of snow.

The first day within isolation was spent nearly motionless. He sat cross legged on the floor, palms resting on his knees. His eyes were closed, more often than not. But when they did open, they were unfocused. He was not used to using them. He remained in such state for a day. Then two. Three. His healing progressed rapidly. In time, as his body mended, he became more and more restless. Pacing the room, often muttering to himself. But when he was aware of observation, he stopped. He did not seem agitated. Only...confused. Frustrated. Finally, another day of rest. The confusion had melted away into something else. Focus. Determination. The same resolve that had set the man's face so many times before.

The morning observation team had but a single thing to report on his activities the next day. He was training. The man had been slightly smaller than the being Srina and Taiia had once known. One did not have need for muscle in hell. And so it was on the eighth day, the man began a strict regime of training. Sit-ups, push-ups, and shadow-boxing when such tasks bored him. There were times when he would jump, and catch a beam from the ceiling in his fingers, using it to conduct a series of pull ups. The medical staff voiced concerns that he would injure himself, or worsen existing injuries should he continue this hellish regimen. And yet, at every check-up, he was becoming more and more healthy. As if the man knew the exact limitations of his body.

And some how, deep down, he did. He knew exactly how much force an injury could withstand without worsening. He stopped only for food or rest. But he never slept. Only knelt to the floor and meditated. As he neared the end of his recovery, medical teams began probing and scanning him, building a profile of his physiology. He was, after all, a potentially undiscovered species. And it was at his request. He wanted to know what he was. Who he was. Soon enough, he was informed that it was time. The Knights Obsidian, his gracious hosts, had questions for him. Clad in his simple white medical tunic, the man stood at attention, smoothing out what few wrinkles remained. His hair was not tied, but instead fell loose about his head. He did, however, brush the rogue strands from his face. His organic right hand cradled his cybernetic one at the small of his back. He was ready. Perhaps he would not be the only being to walk away from this questioning with answers...

Srina Talon | Taiia Mataan

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[Srina Talon]

R O O N
Tag: Kyyrk | Taiia Mataan | NPC Horace
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“I am sorry, Voph...” - Srina
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He didn’t fight.

She didn’t know whether or not she was relieved or disappointed. Voph had ever been a man to do anything without cause, nor, would he make things difficult for her—Simply for the sake of being obstinate. Srina wanted him to do something that would show her the truth of his being. Something. Anything. Thus far, it felt like the former Lord Commander. The sound of their voice, the tenor and pitch, was almost identical. But otherwise?

This man was not the one she knew.

Taiia Mataan followed what she asked of her to the letter. Srina could feel the red-haired Obsidian Lord surveying the area and performing the tasks that had been required. The Echani, the Exarch, trusted nothing at this moment. Her hands had felt his skin, the new additions, that made the sight of this man so strange. It wasn’t fake. It was real, flesh and blood. Anyone who had the power to transmute one person to someone, something, entirely new?

Was a danger, within their borders. Only Darth Metus and his alchemy could do this so seamlessly and she knew for a fact that her Master would never do something of this magnitude. Darth Empyrean was also likely capable, as well a few members of the Sith Empire, but Maliphant would never betray her in this way. She knew that to be true.

The Sith Empire wouldn’t dare. Not, unless they wished to fight more wars, on more fronts, than they actually had borders. “This is…”, she trailed off, quietly, for the Obsidian Lord to hear. The medical team guided the grav-stretcher back and Srina followed it while her arms crossed neatly over her chest. Her thoughts wouldn’t stop moving. Turning, over and over.

<<…Please, mother. Mercy. I know it is him. He is changed…>>, Horace tried to explain with a soft hoot whilst he descended from the sky. Sharp talons dug into her shoulder with a sense of urgency but the glacial young woman could only endure the slight bite of claw. The Strike Armor would protect her well enough, even, from enhanced attributes of a Sith Spawn. <<Can we not hear him out before we lock him away? This return is a gift...Not a curse. He is our friend.>>

<<We must be vigilant. If he is our friend…He will understand.>>

“This is potentially volatile for multiple reasons. No-one beneath the rank of Obsidian Lord should have contact with him and all records of the matter should be sealed immediately. The storm, officially, can be labeled as a localized meteorological phenomenon.”, she murmured to Lord Mataan while they boarded the puddle-jumper. She would have to reach out to Darth Metus , soon.

Days later led to more questions than answers. His bloodwork came back, mostly, the same. There were genetic markers that shouldn’t have existed when compared with the last sample they had on file. Even his telomeres were the appropriate length. The important DNA that made him who he was, for the most part, was intact. Just…With something else mixed in. There had been silence at the Citadel since the arrival. No further incursions.

<<Now can we see him?>>

Horace hooted and his feathers ruffled in vague irritation while they watched the formerly blind man exercise. The reports from the Knights Obsidian were always similar. She brought her comm to her lips. “…Lord Mataan…I will visit with our guest, now. Would you care to engage or review through the two-way?”

It couldn’t hurt to have an extra set of eyes. The clothing Srina wore wasn’t the same armor from before. It was an amethyst wrap with gray leggings beneath it, tucked into protective, flat-heeled boots. Long white hair was braided back from her face with loops and knots that few outside of her own species could replicate with ease. The portal slid open and she paused at the door.

Her eyes lingered, wary, while Horace just flew in.

“May we enter?”