Lies I Once Believed

[Ras'kala'han]

| O | S | S | U | S | ​

Orbit; Jedi Planet​

Humiliation. In one word, the past weeks had been an exercise in total, utter humiliation. Being stripped of his power - something the former Darth had taken as much in stride as he could, given how powerless he had of late felt - was nothing but utter inconvenience. It brought into stark relief, however, how little he could rely on his allies within the Sith Empire: with nothing to offer them, the number of individuals he considered friends quickly evaporated to zero, leaving only his monstrous Sithspawn 'daughter,' whom he feared more than loved. He had no choice but to take what knowledge he could hold, and flee to what safety he could find.

Where was the one place that could be counted on to provide sanctuary from the most relentless and vicious of enemies? Where would one go to seek safety from spirits who could devour minds with gesture and thought, from corpulent masses of pure power who needed no weapons to end life at will? What was the one persistent torch that could stave off the darkness of the Sith?

The answer was obvious, as bitter as the former Lord was to admit it. The Jedi. They were leaving, however, quickly, but that was to his advantage - he needed expedience, and the long process of legal scrutiny was likely to involve the bureaucracy of the Alliance, or local planetary governments - and that meant war crime trials, and likely a death sentence or life in prison. No, it was time to take advantage of the Jedi belief that community service was appropriate punishment for complicity in Sith atrocity - not that he found it that risible, of course, Force Sensitives were unique resources, and letting one go to waste was simply bad management. Force knows how many Jedi were welcomed eagerly into the ranks of the Sith.

Not that he was, of course, going to be a Jedi. This was just a temporary situation, a small humiliation until his Force power returned to him, as it was sure to. Right?

Exiting his shuttle - it was diplomatic, official-looking, but of Lorrdian design rather than Imperial, a lucky quirk that let him get at least this far - he made his way to the spaceport, dressed in a simple, form-fitting black shirt and slacks.

"Show passport and identification, sir."

Under the desk, Vesper - no, Slayne, his new alias for this dark chapter of his life - made a waving gesture with his hand. "It is urgent that I pass, and you should not delay me." The look he got was one of nuisance and confusion, not the slack-jawed compliance of the mind-tricked. He cursed silently under his breath that his powers had waned such that even this grotthu wasn't vunerable. Luckily, he could improvise. "I'm a Sith Empire defector, seeking political asylum. I have important information that the Jedi must be made aware of."

He pulled out an - admittedly, slightly modified (couldn't have the rank and file aware of his former Sith status) Imperial I.D. card, placing it and his Imperial passport on the table. According to the paperwork, he was a diplomatic functionary under Darth Saarai and a bureaucratic aide to certain darksiders.

"Please." He said, tinging his voice with urgency and a touch of fear, though he mostly felt pestered. "The sooner the better."

[member="Tiland Kortun"]​

 

[Tiland Kortun]

[member="Slayne"]

It had been a long time since Tiland had come to Ossus. If he remembered correctly, he had come for the library, for research regarding some project or another. That was all hazy now. This time, the Force had called him for a different purpose, a meeting with one he had met before, although not the same as they had last met. The Force was cryptic in that way.

The old Anzati had gotten through security easily enough. His identification was correct from the Alliance and marked him as a member of the New Jedi Order. An official government representative and diplomat, in fact. It made travel much easier that way, even if he rarely engaged with official Alliance business. They had found his tendency to show where he was needed too convenient to limit his authority. Of course, he had other, older documents, that he used in space that was more hostile to the Jedi. No need to place a target on his back, after all.

He strolled out past the spaceport into the quiet countryside and nodded. This would be an adequate place for whichever meeting was to come. All that was needed was to prepare the table, metaphorically speaking.

Tiland knelt in the grass and pulled his tea implements from the bag, along with a flask of water and a heater. The water he poured into the heater and allowed it to begin to boil. He set out crushed tea-leaves, a scoop, and a tea-pot. With these, he sank into the Force, focusing on the motions and experiences. It brought him into a meditative state and he sent ripples through the Force.

Come, friend. You seek me, do you not? We met once before.

It was a gentle message that would flow through the Force like a warm summer breeze, filled with generosity and welcome. Now, it would be needed to see who would answer the call. When they did, the tea would be ready.

 

[Ras'kala'han]

Once, perhaps, Slayne would have been able to hold that whisper in the Force in the palm of his hand, like catching a leaf out of the currents of the air, and with the eyes of his mind lay it bare in its whole, dissect it for each subtlety and insinuation, and send a reply soaring back through the air to the sender. Now, engaged in a heated discussion with a few customs and security officials, he was lucky to even receive the message. It was strange - warm, comforting, yet that in of itself made him prickle with suspicion: a Sith did not learn to trust these earnest sentiments, but regard them as bait lacing a trap. He did not perceive it as words, but rather a current of emotion, impulse, an intuition that was barely spoken. That he still had memories of what it was once like to be powerful was all that helped him recognize it for what it was.

That put fear into him. That he would forget the Force, eventually, that his knowledge that he had bled and fought for would disappear. That would be a death of another sort, the end of all his ambition. He had no desire to return to the herd. This Light-sided stranger was the one on whom he would stake his hopes, for now.

"You have to understand - this was pre-arranged with the Jedi beforehand, just let me see them so I can confirm that I'm the one he's looking for. Please!"

There was some mumbling between the different individuals. Fortunately, the fact that a thorough scan had registered him as clean of weapons, toxins, and explosives of any sort meant that he was regarded with only the usual suspicion, the suspicion security personnel are paid to have and not the abject scrutiny placed on a would-be assassin.

Escorted by a few men, following slight 'nudges' of instinct that he recognized for what they truly were, albeit barely, he soon found himself looking straight at a familiar face. It would take only a slight affirmation from the Jedi to dismiss the two, with the understanding he would return for processing, he would step down. His recognition of the man he once tried to kill was more that of exasperated embarrassment than remorse, like a child caught in some petty wrongdoing.

"Well, I suppose I've finally run out of good fortune, hm? I never expected to even see you again - I didn't even ask your name. Another one of my numerous mistakes." His voice was full of wry humor underwritten by bitterness. He sat down across from the Jedi, and though his presence was... clouded, it was easy to tell hat he was by far diminished, less than even a Padawan. He was alert, a touch on edge, but not entirely: merely aware, resigned to the fact that if things spiraled out of control, he could do little. "Though perhaps I have a touch of luck left for me."

[member="Tiland Kortun"]​

 

[Tiland Kortun]

[member="Slayne"]

Tiland waited, watching as the color of the tea bloomed through the water. His was ready. All that he needed now was for his guest to arrive. And soon, he did. Tiland raised an eyebrow in surprise. That was certainly not who he had expected. The last time they had met, the man had been trying to murder pilgrims on Tython. But yet, something had changed. He no longer had the aura of power that he once did. In fact, he seemed... diminished, as if he had lost something.

The old Jedi nodded to his escorts and gave then a wave of his hand.

"Indeed! Thank you for being sure that he would find me. I was afraid that he might get lost here." He smiled beneath his bead. "I certainly did the first time I visited this world. Carry on now. I will take charge of him now."

The security guards nodded and turned away. Tiland waited until they had vanished before gesturing for his guest to sit.

"Indeed." He pushed one of the steaming cups of water over. "Tea?" Tiland assessed the man, getting a feel for his body language, his tone of voice, and his mood. He was bitter, hurt, and abandoned. He considered for a moment and then mixed several handfuls of crushed tea leaves into the steeping device. It would be a soothing tea, comforting, safe, and rich.

"I have found there to be no such thing as luck," he added after a moment. "All goes according to the will of the Force. What brings you to seek me out now? And as for my name, I am Tiland."

 

[Ras'kala'han]

The fabled 'Will of the Force.' Slayne, in a prior incarnation perhaps, would be more one to dismiss such credence in the idea of a supernatural guiding hand as a point of comfort for those too weak to control their own fate, that what others saw as luck or the alleged 'Force's Will' was the result of the purposeful actions of enlightened individuals, a maelstrom of causes that the perceptive and potent could discern and manipulate. Now, however, at his lowest point, it was easy to believe that there was some invisible hand deadset on quashing the darkness, because he certainly couldn't think of anything he had done wrong.

"Tiland. Very well, I suppose I should re-introduce myself. In this state, I have no right to the name Darth Vesper; I ought to take a new mantle. Slayne works as well as any other... it's not as though my true name has any meaning at all." He brought the tea to his lips, but pursed them. No, it was not in the character of the Jedi to poison someone, but perhaps another drug was present, or even that this was an impostor, some Sith assassin in the guise of the Jedi; he was fairly certain his movements hadn't been followed though he was far from sure. He wafted the pleasant odor under the guise of waiting for it to cool, his tension visible only in the eye of the Force.

"I'm seeking you out because I have no other choice. I gambled, I tampered with magic beyond my abilities... and lost. I've lost everything. I'm here to make an offer, Tiland: information, all I can grant, and all my expertise. The Black Library of the Jedi Shadows was recently recaptured, and the Silver Shadow temple on Malachor V was destroyed - I saw it happen with my own eyes. Darkness rises, but your knowledge of the darkness is being degraded and attacked, and I imagine whatever was left behind in the territories you evacuated will also be destroyed.

"I am willing to give you everything, on two conditions. The first is safety. The second... well, I understand the Jedi have spilled much ink on the subject of healing. I have been mutilated," he said, breathless, speaking quickly yet slipping over no word, putting a venomous edge on the last one - his anger at his situation was apparent. "And all I want is to be whole again. I am no Uliq Qel-Droma, I cannot learn to live with this. I..."

Throwing caution to the wind, he took a long sip of the tea, savoring its blend. Once, he would have let his rage spill over, but anger was for the powerful. He exhaled. "...name your conditions. Name your price. I'm already willing, even to betray everything I once stood for, just for your damn promise that I might be able to have back what was taken from me, stolen from me. I am here because I have nowhere else to go.

"You're my only hope."

[member="Tiland Kortun"]​

 

[Tiland Kortun]

“Ah,” Tiland said after the other man had said his piece. He was hurt, bitter, and angry. Still a Sith Lord in all but the lack of power, offering to betray everything for his own gain. His lines face sagged, but he smiled gently regardless, and took a sip of the tea. He savored the flavor and rested within the Force. This was a complicated question. Tiland remembered wel who this Darth Vesper had once been. A tool of the Sith, used to try and massacre innocents. To restore him to some semblance of the Force? Would that be worth the price? If anything, it seemed far too dangerous.

And yet, who has Tiland been, so many centuries ago? A tool of the Dark, trained to kill for money, and naive to any other way. So it was that two Jedi had given him a second chance and now here he was, looking into eyes that could have once been his own. Healing came in many forms, after all. Some was physical, some mental, some emotional, and then, the spiritual healing. The Dark was a cruel master that tormented even as it rewarded, driving its servants forwards with sharpened goads even as it tore them apart.

“I can help you,” Tiland said at last. He took another drink of tea, phrasing his next words carefully. “Although you may not like the cost.” He waved a hand in the air to defer any interruption. “The information is of no use to me now, so I shall not claim it. And safety? Nowhere in the galaxy is safe. No moment of life can ever be safe. It is a fragile thing, this balance between life and death. I can do this, however. You have my word, as both a Jedi and a healer, that I will do no harm to you, nor will I allow anyone else. I have a place far from here, far from the Wars of Light and Dark. We can go there and you will be hidden from any who might seek you.”


He let the words hang there for a moment. “Although I cannot bring Darth Vesper back to life. Nor would I if I could. His actions disturbed the
delicate balance in the Force. But Slayne,” he paused and met the other man’s eyes and emphasizing his name. “Slayne is a new being, a clean slate. As others gave to me long ago, I now give to you.” He folded his hands and set them on the table. “My ways are of the Light and the Light only. My methods can not bring you into the Dark once we begin. To cling to your old self will hinder your recovery. Are you willing to sacrifice that?”

The question hung in the air as Tiland slowly stirred his tea.