Private Hunter meets Hunter

[Darth Anathemous]

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Scarif had changed hands many times over the lightyears. Imperial, Sith, Mandalorian and sith again--it didn't matter who held these shores, they always built ugly towers to hide away uglier secrets. Kaila came knocking on the front door like she owned the damn place, * rap tap tap * and it opened.

By the time the confused souls within knew what was happening, it was already too late.

Room by room and lift by lift she cut her way through the old tower, leaving bodies for anyone to come across as the alarm blared all around her. The facility commander was mortified when the doors opened and security fell all around him. Just security.

The Sith left the work force to continue operations as normal, giving them but one order:

"Broadcast." she said, pointing at a large holo-projector.

Some whispered, but were silenced by the ignition of a lightsaber which quelled any thought of resistance. Her likeness then appeared on neighboring worlds all across the Abrion Sector, tall and imposing in her dark armor, wreathed in talismans older than even the sith war-mask's cold glare at the world.

She released her closed fist over the projector, revealing at last her true purpose here.

Lightsabers.​

Beaten, broken.​

​

There were two, both of different styles but one bore the symbol of the Sharyan Jedi.

With her message sent, the projector burst at her silent command, as did all the communications array in the command center. They'd have panicked were it not for the sith lord's voice which cut through the chaos with practiced ease.

"I want the names and faces of every Jedi in your archives."

She tossed them a dataspike, and with her trap set, began to meditate over the coming battle.

---

Cerys Dyn ​

 

[Cerys Dyn]

It had been a routine mission. Cerys had been assigned as primary protection to the Republic delegation sent to Iskalon, right on the edge of Republic space. The mission was to be simple, pedestrian even. The city of New Pavillion was to officially opened. The new capital of Iskalon was one of those many Republic projects meant to signal to frontier worlds that they had not been forgotten by Naboo, and to those across the border that the Republic could be trusted.

When the distress call came in from Scarif, it became quickly apparent that the mission to Iskalon held the only detachment of Jedi from Naboo. Cerys and her Padawan companion were the only ones that could respond.

"Cerys, do you think this is a good idea? Should you be going alone?" It was the voice of the overly cautious Dalmah Nen. The Ayrou would go alone to Iskalon, with Cerys taking responsibility for Scarif.

"Someone has to stay with the diplomats, Dalmah," said said from the pilots chair of the ships landing shuttle. Dalmah could be heard sighing deeply across comms. "You said it yourself. You are not a combatant."

"So how will I protect the diplomats?!" Came the whisper-yelled reply.

"Would you rather be going to the place you know there will be combat?" Cerys said, as the larger vessel to which her shuttle was docked dropped out of hyperspace. Her fingers danced across the controls, disengaging the shuttle from its berth. "At least on Iskalon you can put on a good show. The mere presence of a Jedi should dissuade any ne'er do well."

The shuttle drifted backwards, and Cerys took just a moment to linger on the vessel as it prepared to reenter hyperspace.

"May the Force be with you, Dalmah."

"May the Force be with you, Cerys."

The diplomatic vessel disappeared in half a breath, whisked into subspace.

Cheeks puffing out in anticipation, Cerys guided the shuttle towards the correct jump point. The computer indicated a successful course being plotted, and she pushed forward on the hyperspace controls...

​

----------​

Her approach towards the old data tower had been slow. Every step, she had kept low, maintaining cover behind the large flax bushes that grew in clumps on the perimeter of the tower. But they would not provide cover for the entirety of her progress.

Hunched over behind the last flax bush before one hundred meters of open sand and duracrete, Cerys pondered her options.

"Force be with me," she muttered against the cold, crawling dread that threatened to distract her. Something, or someone, had obviously attacked this spire, that much was never in question. But ever since arriving on Scarif, there had been a slowly encroaching sense of familiarity about the moment.

Cerys half expected to encounter a Sith today. And her mind had settled on the most likely culprit being the reptilian beast that had slaughtered her former Master, the woman she had only recently learned was, in fact, also her mother.

The only option was to run, with the aide of the Force. But timing would be everything.

She had already mapped out the sensor sweeps, and noted a small window of less than two seconds in which she could make the dash. But even a moments hesitation would trip the sensor, alerting the one inside to her presence.

Cerys determined to let the cycle play out three more times, and run on the fourth. When the time came, she readied...and then ran...

Darth Anathemous​

 

[Darth Anathemous]

Not a sound was heard atop the tower when the whispers had faded. It could have passed for serene were it not for her armored form in the eye of silent storm, boots touching, gloved hands splayed over her knees.

Outside the tower her mind touched the Will, feeling through the chains which bound her and all living things together in it's machinations hoping to divine each and every disturbance along the nearest links.

She saw the circular room around her, the dark clouds over the technicians who'd only now mustered the courage to look at her. Fear... sorrow... the dark lord fed on them, used their emotions to expand her sight in the immaterial plane. She smelled the sea, felt the life tucked beneath where no human disturbed them, how they swam from her radiating hate. Not for them, never for the majesty of nature. Just how beautiful the world looked. The temptation to embrace it.

Her head turned to shield her eyes from the expanding white spot in her sight beyond sight, a sting traveling deeper by the minute.

Something else was coming...

...and the light came with it.

- - - - - -​

Bodies lay in the Jedi's path, corporate security, fresh enough that they did not yet smell. At the beginning of her trail, the casualties showed no outward signs of struggle. It began quick and clean, at least until the first sensor sweep. Just beyond it's reach was the scent of smoke and burnt flesh where men fell with a weapon in hand--but their wounds burned too deep to have been made by blasterfire.

But for all that fire, the embers began to dim and give way to a cold air that rolled across the skin.

For every step, the sensation would worsen.

And with it, that creeping sense of familiarity.

---

Cerys Dyn ​

 

[Cerys Dyn]

Ready to push through the doorway as soon as it opened for her, Cerys paused. The dead lay before her. Cleanly, efficiently dispatched in a manner she has rarely seen. Stooping to roll one of the guards over, Cerys inspected his wound — a clean singular pinpoint incision, and the telltale cortisation of the flesh.

"Lightsaber," she hissed through her teeth.

She should not have come alone.

And she knew she could not leave. So it was best to move forward towards this foe on her terms, rather than turn, run and be hunted.

Haunted eyes stared up at the Togruta as she walked in a slight crouch, both blue blades of hers held before and behind her. Every step was cautious. Each measured, and pushing through the Force to sense the path she need take.

A path that lead to the elevator. Despite it being obvious reality, Cerys still felt unease settle across. Perhaps it was not the enclosed space she would have to subject herself to, but the gnawing recognition of who it was that waited atop the towers many floors.

Before entering the lift, Cerys tapped her distress signal, in moments the Sanctuary on Naboo would be alerted to her predicament. Balun would come for her. He always did.

Cerys' already uneasy stomach dropped further still as the elevator shot upwards towards the main records and observation room.

The door slid open.

And she knew.

Anathemous.

Half way out of the lift, the Togruta froze in place. The technicians immediately lost the brief look of hope at seeing a Jedi arrive. Knowing that Cerys was scared, did not help them.

Darth Anathemous fyi Balun Dashiell​

 

[Darth Anathemous]

Tag: Cerys Dyn ​

---

Kaila forced herself to look into the light even as it seared her eyes, growled in defiance as her anger wrestled for control. The light bent to her power but did not break, instead reshaping around her coiling will into something uncannily familiar.

A symbol? a mark? it belonged to...

"You?" said the sith to her would-be-prey at the door.

That chill on the air lessened when the woman slowly stood, eying Cerys over a broad shoulder. No weapons were drawn on the togrutan jedi, not yet, but her golden stare seemed to hold her longer than it should have. Incredible, she thought, still so eager after all this time.

"Hmh. We have to stop meeting like this." she chortled, though it sounded more like interference than a laugh behind the mask.

Only now did she turn to face the jedi properly, her posture deceptively relaxed, but a hand on her saber nonetheless. The technicians cowered behind their terminals of course, or one another, but she did not fault them. So long as they remembered their place in the natural order, she'd not begrudge their terror.

But her? the padawan's fear tasted familiar, but never had it been so potent.

No matter, it would serve the sith well enough in the moments to come, just as these hostages empowered her now.

One probing step forward, a curious tilt of the head, Kaila would take her time with this one.

 

[Cerys Dyn]

She felt her body coil. Not in preparation to flee, but in willingness to fight. There were innocents present. She could not retreat.

"You." Determination echoed in her tone. "Don't you just hang around like the stench of a Dianoga."

She was likely taking too many queues from her former master, and leaning heavily on humour and mockery to pass as confidence. But she needed all the confidence, fake or otherwise, that she could conjure at this moment.

Strafing to the right, she walked slowly behind a console. For just a heartbeat she took her eyes of Anathemous and glared at the technicians on her side of the room. With barely a twitch of her head, she indicated that they should leave by the way she had arrived.

The technicians hesitated, looking rather to the Sith to see if they would be permitted.

Cerys groaned.

"Let them leave. They do not need to be here."

Darth Anathemous

 

[Darth Anathemous]

Spoiler: Music

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"Hmh."

The returned lord crossed her arms and wondered the padawan amused her so. Years ago she'd have called her just another mouthy Jedi and dispatched her on the spot, but now? perhaps it was that she had guts, despite her fear. Before her stood an anathema to the light itself, belt brimming with new lightsabers--beaten and scorched--but the togruta still thought to wear that noble facade?

It was almost endearing.

"Have you forgotten, padawan?" she started, mirroring the Jedi's movements.

"That I feel your fear?"

Anathemous came to a stop when the hostages deferred to her judgement, even knowing their savior stood poised to intercept her on their behalf should they run. She turned her head from side to side as if taking measure of each captive.

"...Very well... they have served their purpose."

Relieved gasps and whispers spread through the ranks while they anxiously shuffled towards the door, some more quickly than others when meeting the Sith's gaze. One though, a Twi'lek woman, gave the padawan a muttered "T-thank you" as she passed, though her tone seemed almost mournful. Anathemous watched the doors like a hawk, waiting for the lift to become packed before bending the doors permanently shut behind them. Nevertheless they proceeded downward unassailable, so content was the Sith to toy with Cerys instead.

She drew her saber then, though the blade remained inactive for now. even through the mask her red gaze seemed to dare Cerys.

Cerys Dyn​

 

[Cerys Dyn]

Montrals flicked towards the elevator door, pointing the staff to their safety. "Get to comms. Send word to the Republic," she whispered to one of those that passed by. The technician did not play the spy too well, as they shot a nervous glance at Anathemous before heading quickly to the elevator.

Now she could address the Sith, though Cerys planned to keep the console between them.

"I have not forgotten. And you have likely not forgotten that I am not...easily swatted aside," she said, strafing further to her left and towards the large observation window.

Try as she might. Cerys could not put down the cold, hard truth that fear echoed within her. She understood that even with her increased ability, the Sith would be more than her match.

"What are you doing here, Anathemous?"

Darth Anathemous "

 

[Darth Anathemous]

Cerys Dyn​

"Anathemous..." she breathed.

The sith paused uncharacteristically long, unmoving while Cerys positioned herself. Distracted or unbothered, who could say behind the mask? The dataspike chimed, alerting her to the progress of her download via the central console which began to flash at her. 20% of the data copied, 80% to go.

Anathemous crept towards the singing device, keeping a watchful eye on the Jedi all the while.

"Regaining my bearings, you could say."

"This world has changed so much, the dark side is... powerful now, more than expected."

Her gloves audibly strained against the inert lightsabers, leather crushed against steel and laminanium, and just a moment--as she stared into the Togruta's eyes--Kaila felt the tiniest twinge of fear that had no right to her mind but nevertheless remained all these years later.

Fear of one man.

"...why?..."

 

[Cerys Dyn]

With the window to her back, Cerys felt comfortable that she had it as a possible escape and attack option. It was a long fall to the ground...but there were ways to make it work.

A frown washed across Cerys' face upon seeing the data gathering in progress. Her jaw set with some determination before only giving half the step forward of the attempt to yank the spike out of the terminal.

"Remove it, immediately," she said, pointing her short blade at the device.

The Sith wanted to know why the Dark Side felt so strong — personally, Cerys could not feel any change — and that irked the Jedi more than she was willing to admit. Before she could catch herself, Cerys moved a few steps closer, saber tip pointing as a threat. "Maybe because..." She caught herself before saying schuttas. "...people like you keep turning up alive again."

It was her one regret, in her whole time as a prisoner of Anathemous, that she had not be able to find an excuse to rid the galaxy of her and her likes.

It was a dark thought. One that she had not entertained frequently. "Stop it..." Cerys commanded the Sith, believing that perhaps she was responsible for darkening Cerys' mind.

Darth Anathemous

 

[Darth Anathemous]

Cerys Dyn ​

Silence fell over the room--save for the hum of a jedi blade. Anathemous did not savor it this time, rather assessing the moment. Perhaps there was something different about the Padawan, or she merely needed this distraction from her ever cynical theory crafting.

Whatever it was caused the Sith to stow one of her sabers, pulling her mask away with a now free hand.

She looked upon her with the same golden eyes as before, though now they seemed to squint as the Sith craned her neck to one one side.

"Hm."

"You've changed, Cerys." she said, voice soft but weathered by time yet to pass.

"Sharper, I think. but there's something--"

"Ah," her lips curled just a little, "There it is."

Satisfied, she took a few leisurely steps towards the console, putting on a show of it as her once coiled shoulders loosened.

"So the spark becomes a flame, and the jedi never quite put it out I see."

"You never did find that Oathwarden," she cooed softly, "that's why you're alone, isn't it?"

And the Jedi could answer, a flash of red divided the room to the tune of a familiar ✱Snap✱ ✱Hissss✱

 

[Cerys Dyn]

The face behind the mask that made her freeze.

When Anathemous pulled away her helmet, the sudden exposure of Kaila's weathered, golden gaze caught Cerys completely off guard. Without the cold veneer of the war-mask, the Sith looked intensely, uncomfortably human. A strange, unbidden warmth flared in Cerys' chest before her rigid Oathwarden training slammed shut over it.

Then came the taunt. You're alone.

Anger darkened the blue pigment of Cerys' lekku. The Sith didn't know about Sophelia, or the family bonds she was finally learning to build. She wasn't that isolated prisoner anymore.

A creeping realization dawned on her. The broadcast. The trap. Did you do all this just to bring me here? She didn't ask it aloud. Instead, she smashed the trap.

Channeling her frustration, Cerys reached out through the Force, gripped the dataspike in a telekinetic fist, and yanked.

CRACK.

The console sparked violently as the spike snapped cleanly in two, killing the download at twenty-five percent. As the smoking debris clattered to the floor, Cerys snapped both blue blades into a flawless defensive guard. The azure glow reflected sharply off her eyes. She locked her boots to the floor, pulse racing, completely ready for the Sith's retaliatory strike.

The crimson blade ignited with a familiar, terrifying hiss. Through her montrals, the sudden shift in acoustic density and ionized air hit Cerys sent a shiver up her spine. Her head-tails twitched, her echolocation instantly mapping the weapon's lethal reach.

"Your download is cancelled," Cerys whispered, voice trying so very hard not to shake. "Guess you miss out."

Darth Anathemous

 

[Darth Anathemous]

Cerys Dyn

Spoiler: Music

"No--!" growled Kaila, but it was already too late.

Her jaw, nostrils flared at the sight of her device halved and smoldering under electrical failure at the Cerys' feet. Nevertheless the she took a deep breath, eyes sharpening on the Jedi.

"Then I will take what I need from you." she said, voice deceptively calm.

The helm beneath her arm was thrown with such effortless yet ferocious force as to demonstrate that she would fight fire with fire--or in this case--telekinesis with telekinesis, though the helm was for show even if it's Darksteel construction rendered it an obstacle for any lightsaber. Instead she would throw her lightsaber in the same manner, manipulating the shoto's trajectory in arc towards the padawan's side.

"I didn't have to let you out of your cage, Cerys!" shouted the sith.

"Is this how you repay me? I taste your intent, tasted it on the winds of a hundred battlefields!"

"What makes you so different?!"

 

[Cerys Dyn]

Her angles narrowed immediately with the lethal trajectory of a hurled helmet. Cerys twisted violently, the metal whistling past her ear, close enough to graze her lekku. Before she could breathe, a crimson blade spun in a deathly arc towards her. She brought her lightsaber up just in time, the plasma clashing in a deafening, blinding shower of sparks that forced her down onto one knee.

Inside her chest, an unwelcome fire flared. Anathemous always did this to her. Cerys pushed back against the friction, denying it room to breath. Reclaiming her center, Cerys directed the surge of heat into pure refined motion.

Cerys shoved Kaila’s blade aside, recovered her footing, and launched forward. Her blade arced in a heavy, broad swing.

"You think you know me?" Cerys demanded, her voice cutting through the hum of the sabers. "That I owe you anything? You are just another Sith."

Darth Anathemous