Private Hounds | Andragnath

[Xeykard]

Andragnath ​

"It's beneath this one," the Inquisitor huffed.

"They have to be on their best behaviour," the Major said. Vaice had loosened in recent years, surprisingly; he spoke his mind more freely now. "It's not babysitting. It's joint operations."

Xeykard crossed his arms. The company's preparations were complete; now they awaited the arrival of their final member -- a warrior of the Blackguard, perhaps with an entourage. His studies had not brought him so far as to understand them fully. From what he could tell, Blackguard were a rarity, one of a million tiny Sith sects long since lost. That they would emerge now, and be friendly with the Order... Xeykard was, as usual, suspicious.

"This legion's made up of the same story, warlord. Disparate elements working together. It's why we're more effective than most legions."

"This legion has had disloyal elements coming from that same disparateness."

"There's more than structure, order, organization. Chaos, difference -- we can find effectiveness there."

The Inquisitor regarded the officer for a moment. "This is a surprise, coming from you."

"There's hope for old dogs," he said evenly.

His gaze caught the trail of dust kicked up in the wake of a speeder, slowly approaching across the long plain. "Perhaps," he said.

Worst come to worst, he doubted the Blackguard would prove an obstacle. Their assignment -- hunting rebels in the mountains of Elom -- was something well within his own power to complete. No matter how dug in or well-hidden, he would find them.

No, perhaps he should be more optimistic. As the transport arrived at their camp, he approached.

"You are the Blackguard?" He paused, sizing up their new arrival. "Welcome."

His tone was not especially welcoming.

 

[Andragnath]

| Xeykard |

Militant.

Andragnath’s word to describe the Sith.

She had been exposed through the durasheet grimoires of the Blackguard of the ways of the ancient Sith- the galactic puppet masters who wormed their way into every strata of society. The Sith that Andragnath were exposed to through her studies- mainly folktales and fractured holocrons, long since outdated even during the time of their scribing- was a mystic tradition of darksiders focused on a pre-Republic code and a legacy stretching back to the first settlers of Moraband. The libraries of her people had been sparse since the Great Dying, hiding in the hovels of ruins and lava-flows in Mustafar- they had only recently built up number enough, mainly scraped together from wayward Force Sensitives, to justify sending out marauders once again. What they knew about the modern Sith, that of Carnifex and Empyrean was elementary at the best. The Sith were scattered, she knew that much- and that they had much more darths running around than the last time they had reached galactic preeminence. They also recently had another empire to their name, and were well on their way to restoring it.

Though, with Sith cruisers in orbit over Mustafar, parlay with the Order seemed more appropriate than waiting to be rooted out by Inquisitors and judged as heretics.

The religious zealotry, that too was known among the Blackguard.

The Sith operated as a religion. Another term to add.

Theocratic.

Those worried were brought to life once the Kursk set up this joint-operation with the Sith, each and every detail of the mission relayed to Andragnath concerned her. She was unsure if she would be returning from this at all.

Solo operation. Inquisitorial attaché. Legionnaire accompaniment.

Andragnath stepped out from the Sith landspeeder, crossing the distance between her and the Inquisitor. She did not recognize the species he belonged too, reptoid in nature- she knew that at the very least. Given the disposition of his voice, she assumed a handshake would be inappropriate.

“Wilder Andragnath, you’re the inquisitor?” She pointed at the man as she asked, it would become apparent that she spoke with her hands often.

“Lots of blasters, details were lacking. How large is this operation?”

 

[Xeykard]

Andragnath ​

Xeykard did not especially appreciate being pointed at. He felt like he was being singled out, and not in a good way.

"Xeykard," he said simply. He returned towards the lip of the hill where their camp sat, and looked out at the stretch of plains ahead. In the distance, the A'driannamieq Mountains rose, a grey-blue wave that they would be picking their way through. He pointed forward.

"We'll be leaving in an hour," he said. "The mountains are two day's walk. Speeders would alert the enemy, but moving through the long grasses will conceal us during our approach. We will travel during the day. An Elom's night vision is superior to any of their other senses.

"The first night will be spent there." A river, flowing down from the mountains, bent across their planned route. One of the cuts gave them an alcove large enough to fit the whole company, safe from view at a distance.

"The enemy has holed up across the range. Our target is one of their weapon caches -- they're receiving funding from the SIA. Preparing to resist us. Take their weapons, defang their resistance. We will need to scout first. Though we have narrowed down our search area, the cache's exact location has eluded us."

He glanced briefly to the Major, who was sitting with some macrobinoculars nearby. He gave a small nod.

Back to the Blackguard. "Questions."

Less of a question itself, more an order.

 

[Andragnath]

| Xeykard |

She had never been this close to the Stygian Caldera, she had never been exposed to the industrialized nature of the Sith before on this scale. She was aware, as was most of the galaxy at large, that they were associated close with conquest and empire- but to this extent felt wrong to her. The Force connected them, Xeykard and Andragnath, the Major and the Rebels hiding out in the mountains, even the Elom themselves and the predatory Ranphyx. The Dark Side licked at these bonds this close to Kaas, to Moraband- and there was a great discomfort to listening to Xeykard speak so plainly about fellow Force-flow dwellers.

The dehumanizing language stood out to her. Enemy. Defang. Resistance.

They were nothing more than a plague to be purified- the fact that one so present in the Force to Andragnath would be capable of such gruff-speak caused her stomach to void-out and a weight to settle on her chest.

She swallowed her concern. This was a cultural exchange, afterall. The Kursk wished her to engage in the Sith ways, to taste their beliefs and motivations.

Questions? She had many, but there was only one that seemed of importance to her.

“What are the rules of engagement?” She had done some reading, and the spartan term felt foreign on her tongue.

 

[Xeykard]

Andragnath
​

Xeykard blinked. "Kill them first."

---

The first day went by quickly. Most of the legionnaires had spent their joy already, leaving it behind at their landing site. They took only their armour, weapons, and resolve into the tall grass. The alcove they reached was cozy enough, but there would be no lights or fires; nothing that might alert the enemy of their presence.

With so few options, the tents were cold comfort from Elom's chilly night air. Xeykard himself took leave early into the night. He reminded each of them -- particularly the Wilder -- not to do anything that might endanger them. Not to move too much. No lights. Stay low. Once he'd taken to his tent, however, the Major allowed some activities and entertainments. The experienced officer recognized that there couldn't be two commanding officers who were hardasses on the same mission.

A few of the legionnaires played sabacc, their helmets on so they could see in the dark. The sky was semi-clouded, and there was no moon to provide them with even a sliver of light -- perfect conditions for concealment.

Another legionnaire, stepping carefully through the dark, approached Andragnath; he was tuning a long-necked four-string instrument, tapping away at its synth-wood frame. "Ho there, stranger," he greeted. "May I sit?"

The legionnaire, who introduced himself as Andreas, mostly invited himself in this instance. He was the talkative type; he had the pale skin of an Arkanian but none of the detachment.

"Don't worry too much about him," he advised, regarding the Inquisitor. "He's still just a big lizard. I mean, that's why he's going to bed. He's cold, he's gotta hibernate."

Even still, he spoke in a relatively hushed tone.

Eventually he confessed his true intention, and asked, "Do you have much music where you come from? Know how to play something like this?"

 

[Andragnath]

| Xeykard |

Xeykard was most certainly a hardass. Andragnath understood that this was a military operation, and that required some level of authority and professionalism- but the reptoid spoke to his men almost as if they were machines, things that could operate with little human comforts as possible. While tired from the march to their current encampment, she knew that for herself at the least- there was a winding down period of enjoyments before she would go to bed- the two sides of her biology would rage against her mind if she didn’t have at least some fun to end the day off. She was sure that Xeykard meant well, she was sure that it was the proper way to conduct this kind of mission, but it still felt intensely depersonalizing in the face of everything. Even the helmeted men playing sabaac seemed more alive than Xeykard to her at the moment, outside of the few words they shared and the voices of others- she had no firm grasp on who the inquisitor actually was.

She knew what he was, a warrior from the Sith Order, determined to extinguish the pocket of hope and rebellion that existed in this corner of the galaxy, but now who. Or even why for that matter.

Where she could, she made absent minded chatter with the men during the trek, and she supposed that was the reason that she was being approached now by the faux-Arkanian.

She was planning on inviting him to sit as soon as he asked- but he jumped her response.

“Brumation-” She corrected.

“Hibernation is a mammalian thing- he brumates.” She didn’t say it to be snarky, or even overly intelligent, with the same passing as she would’ve said “his scales are red.”

Music where you’re from… misinformation on the biological habits of their commander, this semi-human was stepping on a few of the standard stereotypes that she had encountered in her years as a xeno in a human cultured galaxy.

Of course they had music where she came from-

But she was going to be a right she-hound about this.

“Music?” She said the word like the very phonemes were unknown to her, and then said something seemingly in some foreign language, which was actually just gibberish.

“No. No, is that some weapon of Sith legend?”

 

[Xeykard]

Andragnath
​

"Oh. Cool." Andreas had no idea what brumation was before then.

He almost fell for it, a look of surprise crossing his face, before he looked again. "Ha-ha. Yeah, yeah, sorry. I just asked it that way to be open. Like, not everywhere has mandoviols. I was just curious."

He was persistent, though. "But, do you?"

His question was genuine, and if she allowed, he'd do his best to learn a tune or two before bed.