I'm The Night

[Vrag]

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5EkfXMw2ODM​

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​

Cool blue eyes flickered from enemy to enemy as the horned beast plunged her lightsaber between the plates of ancient — but nonetheless hostile — machinery. Another droid down, ten more to take its place. These types of enemies were always so annoying; almost as if they were playing Defend the Fort, or maybe Space Invaders, and the opposing force was continually arriving in waves.

A-nno-ying.

With an irritated sound the woman extracted her blade and sent the destroyed heap of circuitry flying into its fellow attackers with a push of her hand. Didn't even need the Force, what with her fancy new armor. Hot.

It's not that they were particularly hard to beat, they were just such a nuisance to deal with. It almost felt like the droids were thrown into their path only to delay them, to give them something to do for the next few minutes. Now that she thought about it… the politician was probably going to encounter some sort of trouble while hacking into the main console, and while the blond was all busy running his slender fingers on the keyboard the three of them would surely be beset by another round of the incessant droids. Typical.

"Hey, Irani!" Damn, was the venom ever dripping off of that name. "Where's that cannon of yours?"

[member="Darell Irani"] | [member="Gerion Ardik"] | [member="Matsu Xiangu"]​

 

[Hira Mitsae]

[member="Matsu Xiangu"] | [member="Vrag"] | [member="Gerion Ardik"]​

​

Threw the blast sword right in the… beak? Mouth? Anyway, it was an opening of the droid, that it used to shoot out blasts into our general vicinity. Which ain’t exactly a good thing for our future physical health. The sword hit home, lodging itself into the opening and generally making itself a nuisance for the droid.

​

Suddenly the sword decided to shoot out a blast itself, which made the droid go boom with all consequences that came for it.

​

‘Why?’ Irani shouted over, before gliding between the two… leg-thingies of a second droid and getting hold of his sword again. Ensuing a slicing competition with some more of the shuttas.

​

‘Ya wanna make the experience easier?’

​

Truthfully this whole thing was slowly starting to become annoying to him too, he would keep killing ‘em and killing ‘em, until either Ardik got his shet together or they had destroyed all the bugbots in their vicinity.

​

Didn’t mean he wasn’t getting bored by the moment, so he started looking for an opportunity to disengage from the combat to get a hold of his cannon. Cause getting cut up by these things while switching weapons ain’t exactly a prospect he was looking forward to.

 

[Vrag]

"Me?" the woman shouted right back, her tone seething with sarcasm that could scorch the man, were he standing any closer to the firrerreo. "Never."

The veracity of that statement, of course, could be severely disputed, but the pair were both engaged in close-quarters SMASHY, and there really wasn't all that much time for banter. Despite their combat prowess of some renown, neither was dumb enough to sacrifice their life for a witty quip. Well, maybe Irani, since he was clearly stupid enough to make some other questionable decisions, but as previously stated, Vrag was far too busy cleaving ancient machinery into shiny little pieces of future shrapnel to throw at Carach once he turned his back on her.

The bastard.

Murderous thoughts aside, the Hand of the Dark Lord was, as expected, quite efficient in her destruction of droids. Matsu was doing her thing somewhere out of her field of view — probably shredding those things into neat little ribbons with those claws of hers — while the blond snob was still failing miserably at reaching the controls of this Forcedamned station. Why the hell she'd let herself be persuaded into this poorly-organized venture was beyond her, but it was becoming clear that Irani needed some education on the matters of efficacy and problem management.

With teeth bared and eyes wide open, the woman rammed another droid against a nearby wall, abandoning it to crumble into a pile of scrap metal even as she cut the legs out from beneath another and finished it with a clean shiak to its core.

"Grab that thing," Vrag growled as she batted away a few stray bolts, "I'll cover you."

[member="Darell Irani"] | [member="Matsu Xiangu"] | [member="Gerion Ardik"]​

 

[Hira Mitsae]

[member="Vrag"] | [member="Matsu Xiangu"] | [member="Gerion Ardik"]​

​

Irani wasn’t really picking up on the angry, sarcastic vibes, well… pure technically he was, in the end he was a mentalist. Meant that he was specially attuned to the thoughts, feelings and other shet from people around him, but here? With the echoes of ancient pasts knocking at his door? With old iron crashing into him, hit by hit in an attempt to bring him down?

​

Was pretty hard to focus on one particular feeling and disconcern the attitude that laid behind it. Instead a guttural growl came out as the acceptance of the offer, a moment after that he made use of it.

​

The sword rotated in a circle around his body, blasts coming off and hitting the droids all around him. With Vrag taking the blunt of the attention now and him just taking out a bunch himself, he threw down the sword and jumped for the canon.

​

He had discarded it early in the battle, but now he picked it up. Two droids had been leaning in the back, waiting for a moment to take advantage of though.

​

Immediately they jumped in the direction of his exposed back.

 

[Vrag]

Boy, was she angry — well technically speaking Vrag was always angry, but this was a different sort of ire; rather than cold and low-burning, it was a scorching fire that soared high with flames of white-hot steel, threatening to spill across her tongue with that taste of searing cinder and ember, prompting her to commit untold atrocities — but she was also busy fueling her strikes with that fury, so Irani had dodged the proverbial bullet. For now.

Colorful curses painted her lips even as she felled droid after droid, soaking the attacks meant for the Voice of the Dark Lord. Maybe she should let a few bolts slip by, just for a little sting. She could easily handwave it as an accident — they were surrounded by hostiles, after all — but she'd still be running the risk of having him die. And who would shoot that big cannon then?

No, that just wouldn't do; despite the bout of rage currently coursing through her taut muscles, Vrag prided herself in her exemplary self-restraint, and allowing a powerful ally to come to harm out of personal spite was not her style.

But damn, did she wish it were.

With a grudging 'frak' whispered under her breath, the woman bifurcated the last of her enemies in the front and turned around just in time to see two lurking assailants leap from the sidelines at Darell in his moment of vulnerability. Oh, bother.

Her left hand shot forward with fingers spread like claws, and one of the attackers was sent flying at the nearest wall, crumpling to the ground in a mess of bent metal and misfiring circuitry. The other droid found a much slower death at the end of her red blade that came in range as the Hand moved, smooth footwork that made it seem like she was gliding across the floor without any apparent effort. Her strike was upward, from the third guard, and the Force flowing through her limbs had the droid's severed head lurching through the air in an exquisite arc before hitting the floor with considerably less grace.

It was simply too good an ass to die by the hands of some millennia-old mook.

[member="Matsu Xiangu"] | [member="Gerion Ardik"] | [member="Darell Irani"]​

 

[Hira Mitsae]

[member="Vrag"] | [member="Matsu Xiangu"] | [member="Gerion Ardik"]​

She knows.

The thought entered his mind right after he rolled away from the incoming droids, not a necessary movement as was made apparent by Vrag’s save. But that was the one thing the Sith Lord in him knew, you never should trust in your fellow Sith, not when it came to life and death situations.

It was better to be extra careful.

As he completed his roll he landed on his knee, his shotgun whipped up and he took aim.

While Vrag was busy taking care of the mooks, behind her shet came steamrolling in to take advantage of her own situation. Irani wasn’t having none of that, she was too good of a lay to let it all go to waste like that.

If anyone was going to kill her it would be him.

In bed.

Insert Emoticon with bouncy eyebrows.

The cannon roared, everything became white for a second and suddenly behind her there was a whole space of clear, scorched black iron that indicated… that shit had gone down.

A lull in the action happened as there suddenly wasn’t anyone to fight anymore.

‘You okay?’ Irani shouted out, trying to get that distinct ring outta his ears.

 

[Vrag]

One moment she was still engaged in that deathly dance, a step to the left, a step to the right, stabby stab stab — you know how it goes — and in the next an almost blinding light would flash in the room along with a majestic boom, and the ground beneath her feet would shake. The Vonduun coiled and the woman beneath dug in as the blast hit, rattling against her frame with a vengeance, but it found her stalwart and just as stubborn as the force railing against her. Vrag didn't give easily, and certainly not to some pesky explosion.

As the droid parts and smoke settled down around her, the skull turned to gaze at the source of the destruction — a fact that would usually earn him a suggestive remark reserved for later — its dead orange eyes piercing those of Darell Irani.

In lieu of a response to his rather dumb question, the woman chose to make her way over to him instead, to deliver an answer of the more… physical nature. Her stride was purposeful as she traversed the mess his cannon had made with but one projectile, heedlessly kicking aside twitching machinery and twisted pieces of metal that dared stray onto her path. Oh, if he could see her expression then… a man of weaker will and a better common sense would've broken into a sprint immediately, but Irani was neither. Too bad.

And then she was up against him, her armored hand pressing into the column of his throat as she rammed him into the wall behind him, sharp teeth bared and eyes wild with fury. With her armor on and the Force still flowing through her limbs from the thrill of combat, Vrag had an easy time of holding him there as if he were a puppet, the sharp legs of the crab drawing blood where they dug into his skin.

"Am I okay?" she echoed him with a mocking tone, leaning closer as she spoke. "I don't know, Carach, am I okay?"

[member="Darell Irani"] | [member="Matsu Xiangu"] | [member="Gerion Ardik"]​

 

[Hira Mitsae]

[member="Vrag"] | [member="Matsu Xiangu"] | [member="Gerion Ardik"]​

A few numbers might be in order.

The Sith stood at six feet nine, weighing around two-hundred and fifty-six pounds giving him the natural advantage in height and weight-class. But she wasn’t human, neither was he. A lab-creation Carach had been made specifically to be the epitome of Epicanthix/Kiffar-excellence, and yet his creator hadn’t been satisfied. Grafted into his muscle fibers were biochemical augmentations to give him even more an increase in strength, sensory and stamina enhancements in other regions. It seemed that as the owner of Neuro-Saav Corporation… one loved his cybernetics.

Not that his superior strength and stamina really mattered at the end of the day, because at the end of the day? Vrag was the superior fighter, at least in a fair fight and Irani was not a fan of those so-called fair fights.

So when she slammed the apparition into the wall and mocked straight into his face, everything suddenly turned dark. No sounds came to her ear, no sensation of touch crept up through her skin and her eyes did no longer register anything. No, in this particular moment?

Vrag, the Hand of the Dark Lord, found herself completely in a different world.

‘You seem a little pale.’ a detached and incorporeal voice ventured. ‘Now, are you ready to calm down or is it your wish to embarrass yourself even further?’

The voice did not seem amused, and yet… it didn’t seem all that worried either.

 

[Vrag]

And oh, even through the armorweave of the bodyglove the woman could feel the give of cartilage underneath her palm, the silenced protests as the tracheal rings begged for mercy that wasn't given. In truth, Vrag could have crushed the life out of him with but a simple squeeze of her fingers, and grinding the hyoid into dust under relentless pressure of a trained body and Vonduun merged.

She could.

Naturally, she didn't. For all the anger simmering on the surface, the firrerreo wasn't truly pissed, but more offended that Irani hadn't told her the truth. Not out of some stupid sense of trust or loyalty — no matter what it said on the can, they were still Sith — but because they worked together in a professional capacity as well, and that sort of knowledge was quite pertinent when it came to seamless cooperation. It wasn't even a personal slight, really, but more of a general frustration with a man who would refuse her a more streamlined working relationship. The nerve!

She would have told him all of that, of course, if she weren't too busy trying to accustom to the suddenly different environment. Where the feth had the chamber gone? For the life of her Vrag couldn't wrap her mind around the abrupt change in surroundings, but she wasn't really trying, to be honest. No, the more pressing matter in that moment was the lack of Irani in her grasp.

Her blue eyes fluttered closed for a few moments, since there wasn't anything to look at anyway in that endless pit of jet black, and the woman focused on the voice floating around her instead. If she could just figure out where it was coming from… ugh. Her upper lip curled as frustration bled into anger — real, cold anger this time — and the Hand of the Dark Lord took a deep breath of nothing, filling her lungs with the tar of the atmosphere.

"Your cheap parlor tricks might work at children's parties, Darell, but they don't impress me," she called out into the immutable darkness, letting her hand relax and fall limp to her side; she might as well be throwing energy at nothing.

"Stick to humming, darling, and stop trying to impress me. I'll kark you either way."

Oh, she would find him, eventually, and unfortunately for the Voice of the Dark Lord, she was a very patient hunter. Even in the darkness he had someone called upon them, the man couldn't hide forever. If the black blanket was supposed to stifle the senses of those using the Force, Vrag would be all the less affected, independent as she was on those fabled space-magicks.

[member="Darell Irani"] | [member="Matsu Xiangu"] | [member="Gerion Ardik"]​

 

[Jairus Starvald]

[member="Matsu Xiangu"] | [member="Gerion Ardik"] | [member="Vrag"]​

​

And that was the exact problem, the prospect of death. Of course Irani wasn’t scared of death, it would have been unfortunate and slightly annoying to find the new host-body to enter again, yes. But in general it had more to do with the fact that a Hand killing a Voice… well, it would have started all kinds of nasty precedences and feuds.

​

This all under the assumption that Vrag would have actually killed him, which she hadn’t been planning on. But instincts being what they were Carach wasn’t going to let his throat be grabbed by the Hand.

​

Especially not after having shared the bed with her this many times, he knew how hard she could be.

​

The illusion dissipated into nothing.

​

‘Manhandling only in the bed, my Lady Vrag.’ the soft hum carried across the room and caressed her ear. She would see him lean against the wall, probably.

 

[Vrag]

Before she could really devote her attention to figuring exactly what sort of space-magic crap Carach — or Irani, whatever the feth he preferred — was pulling on her, the illusion was gone. Just like that. The man might as well have snapped his fingers.

Her brow furrowed behind the mask of Baphomet, anger faltering as it turned into confusion. She'd never been one for the tricks with the Force, and her love for them wouldn't grow very much after this brief incursion with whatever that was. Before she could really get worked up about it, though, the man spoke again, his voice barely more than a ghost of a whisper against her ear.

She whipped around so hard that she almost got whiplash, but in that moment, the woman had eyes only for the mocking Voice of the Dark Lord. Force, that humming! She didn't mind most of the time, but at this moment, at this fething moment, the sound of his song was the very last drop.

"Your Lady?!" the woman nearly blistered at the use of the word, the dead red eyes piercing those of Irani. Carach. Whatever. "I will manhandle your ass into tomorrow, Lord Carach."

With that the Hand of the Dark Lord marched over to him and his cocky smirk, her intention to wipe it right off that handsome face clearly visible despite the skull hiding her expression. She came close this time, but not close enough to touch; that black world of illusion he had called forth wasn't one she was eager to visit again anytime soon (or later, for that matter).

"Apologize," the proud creature ground out through her sharp teeth, crossing her arms over her chest.

[member="Matsu Xiangu"] | [member="Gerion Ardik"] | [member="Darth Carach"]​

 

[Jairus Starvald]

[member="Matsu Xiangu"] | [member="Gerion Ardik"] | [member="Vrag"]​

And the Sith Lord stood his ground against the coming onslaught of edged lines and sharpened death, that was one state of being which Carach had never feared and would never fear. No pain, no translucent departure brought him pause, and yet when she marched right before his private space and halted there… the Voice listened calmly, his head slightly tilted.

An apology, asked genuinely and with courtesy?

At once the Sith was quiet, collected and no smirk marred his features, moments passed and she would receive a nod of short quantity.

Acceptance of the demand.

‘Forgive me for withholding my business alias, Lady Vrag.’ the Sith Lord finally offered. ‘Secrets come easy to me, sharing them… much harder.’

 

[Vrag]

She licked her lips as he stared right back, those yellow eyes of his — whenever did they change? — trying and probably failing to gaze back at the dead red orbs of her skull. It made her smile behind the helmet, and her piercing blue eyes flashed with a glint of dark amusement. She wondered if the man would truly manage to come up with an apology or if it was a moot point asking for such when talking to a Sith Lord. In some aspects it made sense not to expect remorse or regret from people who were capable of sitting at the top of Republic Most Wanted chart for weeks on end, and even when they weren't #1, a colleague of theirs surely was.

Oh, wait! Darth Carach had never made it onto that list, actually. Well, neither had Vrag, for that matter, but the Hand of the Dark Lord was far less bitter about it.

"Good," she murmured after a few seconds of silence after his admission in which she wondered if his words bore any semblance of sincerity. In the end, it was useless to demand it, for she would never give it herself. Was she a hypocrite for it? Certainly; then again, that was almost a job requirement in their line of business, so the firrerreo didn't stop for one second as she move forward, crossing that last stretch of rubble separating the two killers and occasional lovers.

"Now let's kill the rest of these motherkarkers… Darell." Her hand lingered on his cheek for a few moment, a far cry from the touch she'd offered him earlier, and then the woman turned on the spot, marching off without another word.

[member="Darth Carach"] | [member="Matsu Xiangu"] | [member="Gerion Ardik"]​

 

[Caulder Dune]

Gerion stumbled, managing to catch himself on the wall before tumbling over completely. He sucked in air with harsh, ragged breaths. One hand on the wall for support, he used the other to wipe away the hair that was stuck to his sweat-drenched face. His attire, completely inappropriate for a combat mission, was now torn and disheveled in several places. This was the last time he went anywhere outwardly dangerous. There was, unfortunately, only a limited number of ancient Rakatan battle droids his team could take down before falling under the horde. Gerion glanced behind him, appraising the hallways that were now clogged with wreckage. Somewhere underneath just over a hundred of those dastardly Rakatan droids were his two TA4s. More evident was the hulking wreck of the TA2, which rose like a defeated mountain above the Rakatan droids.

Poetic, really.

So Gerion had been forced to fight the rest of the defending Rakatan droids without his lightsaber and nothing but a '34 to his name. It hadn't been pretty, but he still had the Force to his name. This had all been good practice for his Mechu-Deru. Probably. Since Vrag and (less importantly) Irani were still depending on him, Gerion gathered the rest of his strength and shoved off from the wall. The door to the mainframe was just before him and slid open at his approach. It had actually been locked, but electric doors that locked had been much less effective in stopping the Umbaran once he took up the delicate art of Electronic Manipulation.

He coughed and limped inside.

 

[Jairus Starvald]

[member="Matsu Xiangu"] | [member="Gerion Ardik"] | [member="Vrag"]​

There was just something about that armor, the spikes, the deadly red eyes that tried to penetrate your soul with just the barest of hints in humanity. He wasn’t too sure what exactly made him all hot and bothered, but something about those curves did do it for him and the Sith Lord started walking before he even knew what was happening, big steps taking him next to Vrag.

But then something shifted, not in his walk, mind or anything. It was something in the subtle current of the Force that told him that maybe, just maybe Ardik was finally starting to become just a little bit useful for this mission and had reached the control room. It was only this small fact that allowed him to retain control over his deeper urges, restrain himself and not throw himself at the Hand of the Dark Lord to properly ravage her.

Instead his eyes studied the scene in front of him, a few dozens of scores in droid lifes just flicked away into the endless night, courtesy of their skill with canons, sabers and other assortments of goods. It seemed that they had done a right and proper job of it, in the distance he could still hear the clanking of metallic feet ticking against the durasteel floor.

But they were too far away to be of a threat right now.

‘Seems Ardik is almost done with his job.’ the Sith Lord finally said to his companion next to him. ‘Let’s go and see if we can find our way to the actual construction facilities, might be something more to wreck there.’

That would probably be enticing to Vrag.

 

[Vrag]

Carach was lucky that she was decked out in Force-dead armor and didn't sense his transparent intent from a mile away, or the man would've found himself redoing the against-the-wall scene, and not in the fun way; more asphyxiation, less sex, stuff like that. You understand.

Anyway, the Force had other plans for them today that didn't involve rutting amid the wreckage of a hundred droids, apparently, and so the woman remained ignorant of the Sith's intentions as her boots trod over the sprawled, twisted metal limbs that had been so artfully — and sometimes less so — severed from the metal chassis.

"Good," she muttered, thumbing the hilt of the lightsaber clipped to her belt. Oh, she would enjoy taking out her frustration on a new batch of enemies, that was for sure, but at the same time she knew she'd grow ever angrier with herself for doing it in the first place. Vrag prided herself on her exceptional self-restraint, and going off on a killing spree just because one of her boytoys hadn't been telling the truth was beneath her. Damn that character continuity!

"Let's get going then," she added with a small huff, kicking a piece of twisted plating out of her way as she rounded the corner to the next hallway, entirely unwilling to linger any longer. She was anxious to vent that that irritation somehow, and battle seemed like the best idea at the moment, what with the present company. Well, Matsu could… but no, the petite Sith Lord was much too busy these days, and probably not very hot for getting it on in the middle of a wreckage. That was up Irani's alley, and she wasn't exactly feeling like walking down that particular street at the moment.

[member="Darth Carach"] | [member="Matsu Xiangu"] | [member="Gerion Ardik"]​

 

[Caulder Dune]

The mainframe of the Rakatan foundry was more advanced than Gerion had expected. Granted, it probably just looked really advanced. It was a large, spherical room that seemed to be filled entirely with processing equipment. The walkway Gerion found himself situated upon was sturdy, but the sheer amount of distance between him and the floor made him sweat just a little bit more regardless. Really, this was no task for Gerion Ardik. Adekos would have been much better. Where was Adekos, then? Why had he been summoned here instead of his Force-Empowered alter ego who flung around Mechu Deru like they were hot cakes in a primary school food fight?

This was the last time Gerion would be answering any calls in person. Lest he get sucked into this again. He had a strict code of conduct for this sort of business. If he were out and about under the guise of a non-Force Sensitive Umbaran, then he damn well shouldn't be calling upon it any time soon. Yet as he crossed the walkway (gripping the guard railing like the coward he was the whole way), he decided this would be an infinitely easier task if he crumpled up that code of conduct and threw it into a trash compactor. What good was a code of conduct if it made him conduct himself less efficiently than possible?

Besides, he had copies. Gerion could come back to this when he wasn't traversing a Rakatan Death Machine Foundry floating in the middle of space.

After a few minutes of walking, Gerion arrived at the central platform, which was dominated by a single central control computer. Holoscreens displayed hordes of information, scrolling across quickly. This would have been interesting and all, but Gerion couldn't read Rakatan. Nor did he want to. Unless this turned out to be a super advanced computer, however unlikely that was. The Umbaran checked over his shoulder to make sure no one was watching before reaching out with the Force and interfacing with the system.

For Gerion, or Adekos, or Darth Janus, or whatever, this was all child's play. Machines and computers had no defense against the Force. But for a device as large as this, it would take him some time to figure out where the droid control functions were. So he started with shutting down all the entrances to the mainframe and magnetically sealing the doors. The foundry's resident AI attempted to circumvent these changes, but found itself rebuffed by the Force. It knew what was coming.

"Will I dream?" It inquired of the Umbaran.

"Oh, be quiet."

 

[Jairus Starvald]

[member="Matsu Xiangu"] | [member="Gerion Ardik"] | [member="Vrag"]​

~~~​

Somewhere in the distance the Sith Lord could almost feel paradigm shifts churning out of the system, not that anyone else would sense it. It stemmed from years of knowing Ardik and his particular way of handling things, it stemmed from a life of fine-tuning Sense and feeling the pebble fall, it stemmed from not being wrapped in a Force Dead-environment. Made him smile, it meant that this mission was one step closer to success and then… heh, then it would be fun.

They walked more, exploring the depths of the station and they were suddenly hit by the sheer serenity and silence that reigned from every direction and corner. It was almost a different world, one in which they hadn’t been beset by on all sides by droid guardians.

Finally they entered a large silo slash hangar bay, it was dark, no lights on and eerily silent, just as the walking ways behind them. At least until they had finished taking a few steps, then they suddenly would hear the whirring sound of servo-nodes and machinery setting itself up for installation.

A light went on and centered itself on a behemoth droid… thingie, it seemed they had finally reached the end-boss of this particular level.

Carach simply sighed and reached out towards the Forcesaber attached to his belt, taking it in his hand and with a deep hum it actived. Bathing their immediate surroundings with an eerie amber light, this would be quite the fight.

‘This is gonna be fun.’

The Sith Lord mentioned before taking a step in the Behemoth’s direction, and two steps to the right, would be the best if they stayed separated during the fight.

Would mean that the thing would have more trouble getting a hold of either of ‘em.

 

[Vrag]

While Crach/Irani was having fun spying on their paranoid blond associate, Vrag was too busy using her other senses to stay aware of their environment, and so wasn't caught unawares by the behemoth droid… thingie.

That fantastic advancement in technology (brought to you in 5000 BBY) called thermal vision more than helped in that department, and one that Vrag utilized on a regular basis. So when they wandered into the darkness, she wasn't much fazed — unlike her brave male counterpart — and merely reached for her lightsaber at the sight of the outline that peeled out of the fifty shades of gray in her vision.

"It really isn't," she growled back, keeping her blade extinguished for the time being as the lights flickered back on. With a grumble the woman switched to IR instead to locate the power core of the giant droid, trying to understand why exactly she'd allowed Irach to drag her to this expedition. It clearly wasn’t worth her time.

Ugh.

His only saving grace at that moment was that he was such a good lay, and even then, Vrag liked keeping her options open. Just the other day on Nar Shaddaa, she'd had jolly good fun with a crime lord that shall remain unnamed for the sake of preserving his reputation — whatever was left of it, anyway — intact. Still, there was no denying that he was one of the few people who didn't break down into a sobbing mess after she was done with them.

"You'd better make it up to me after we're done here," she growled low into his ear, smiling sweetly behind her skull mask.

She gave the man a parting slap on the ass before they each took to their side of the corridor, her chitinous boots making surprisingly little noise as she advanced on the thing. How good were its ancient targeting systems after all this years? Was it capable of standing up to a pair of Sith Lords? Would the two find themselves bogged down by a hail of blaster fire? Would Ardik finally become useful?

Tune in next month week to find out!

[member="Gerion Ardik"] | [member="Darth Carach"] | [member="Matsu Xiangu"]​

 

[Jairus Starvald]

[member="Vrag"] | [member="Gerion Ardik"]​

The Forcesaber flowed in his hands, Rakatan creation which seemed to be chiming and resonating with the environment they were currently standing in. This wasn’t a lightsaber, it was its predecessor, the model of which the first sabers were based. Dark crystals had been used to grow the saber and it only amplified his own existence in the Dark side.

Carach wasn’t too sure why Vrag was so indignant at the moment though, like. They were basically doing the same shet as they were doing on Sluis Van, wrecking things and making names, and she had been all but happy to do it back then.

But now she was wenching and moaning all about it, the entire day long. Such a party pooper, kill joy for ever. It didn’t get on the Sith Lord’s nerves though, he was too much him to really be impressed when a mature and adult Sith was acting like a grumpy little womanchild.

‘Sure.’ Carach replied smoothly, before skitting off to a run. His movements blurred and the darkness that was expelled by his saber turned into smoky puffs.

After this was done he would need a good, solid lay with a lot of screaming.