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Morutar werde, vod.

Alan

Blessed are the peacemakers
Writer
Tracyn awoke, with a pain in his stomach and a sort of-entire body pain. The electrical burns that he endured were probably not good for his nerves, but that wasn't his biggest concern right now. He was groggy, which meant that he had been chemically sedated in a way. His arms were above his head, and he couldn't put them down. Something was holding him by his hands, or at least, by his wrists. He looked around, and tried to move forward. That didn't work either. They were bound, or held in place by a sort of restraining device. He leaned his head forward, and then opened his eyes. No armor. His bare skin was cold, and sweaty. The wound was patched up, and admittedly, rather well. It still hurt, however. Tracyn glanced around, before looking upwards. He was in a cargo hold, or in a ship, or some warehouse. Something of that nature. Most likely on a ship. That was the most logical conclusion, given the feeling that he had. There were only a few other lifeforms around, and it felt...cold and empty when he tried to reach outward with the force. So he probably was in space, but there was no way to be entirely sure.

He glanced around, and saw the flash of his moving head against his armor. His gear, all of it, was laying on a table and, when he looked down, someone had stripped him to his pants. They had taken away his armor, and presumably, his lightsaber. He looked upwards, a dim blue light from the restraining mechanism being the only light in the room. He tried to pull, and the machine whirled, but didn't give. He leaned forward, and then his head followed suit. He flared out of his nostrils, curling his fingers into a fist. He leaned forward as far as he could, and gave off a scream, a scream that could pierce the hearts of men. It used to be a war cry that could do it, but now, now Tracyn bellowed with the force of a Krayt Dragon, or something unholy and from the depths of hell. It resonated off the walls, curling into the eardrums to all those present in the ship. It ceased after a moment, and Tracyn flared his nostrils, trying desperately to calm himself down.

He leaned his head up again and screamed.

"WHERE ARE YOU!"


@[member="Darth Kyros"] @[member="Darth Avara"]
 

Adamus Straife

The Slayer
Writer
"I am right here, Tracyn Ordo," spoke a voice, from nowhere in particular. The voice was as cold as steel and unforgiving. Motonous and robotic, with any vestige of humanity erased. But the voice was still menacing enough to warrant an intense feeling of dread; of panic and despair. "Right before your eyes." He stepped from the shadows, arms folded behind his back. Darth Avara was obscured by robes and armour, and his infamous mask. Only malice hid behind its cold confines. The Sith Lord stepped before Tracyn Ordo as he lay there helpless, restrained and bare. Avara had stripped him of his weapons, his amulets and trinkets, and most of all - his dignity.

"Scream all you wish. No one will hear you in space." He looked forward, sizing up the Mandalorian before him. Outwardly, Darth Avara did not appear battle worn, his wounds were patched by bacta salves, fast flesh and medical tape; he had even repaired the most severe of Ordo's wounds. His dark healing had done the rest, surging through his body, drawing on his pain and anguish to repair the wounds he suffered in battle. His robes were slightly torn, weathered by battle but intact. "You are a fearless warrior, Tracyn, I will give you that." Avara spoke as he circled the restrained fallen Jedi. "The Mandalorians trained you in battle, the Jedi awakened your potential with the Force, but they caged you at the same time. Afraid of what they may let loose if your restraint were to... collapse." There was no mistaking that Tracyn was, behind his berserker rage and aggression, a broken and lonely man. He had seen it before, he would see it again. The galaxy made those who could survive its cruelty into legends; those left behind were the broken, the unwanted, and the betrayed.

A beeping noise was heard from within the confines of Darth Avara's Sith infiltrator. The masked Sith lifted his face up to the red light flashing, indicating that their destination was met and they would be exiting hyperspace soon. "Pity," he walked back toward the door of Tracyn's singular Force cage, a cell made to keep Force-sensitives captive. "Our time is cut short. We will be arriving soon. Darth Kyros awaits." Avara turned and exited, entering the cockpit of his infiltrator to disengage his personal ship from the hyperspace lane. And there, amid the stars rested the planet that Kyros awaited him on. Felucia.

@[member="Darth Kyros"] @[member="Tracyn Ordo"]
 

Matila Arkh

who knows?
Writer
[I'm sorry this has taken so long - I'm finally back on track RP wise]

Once she had been young, and in her arguable innocence she had met a man who changed everything. @[member='Daxton Bane'] had brought the child back into the throws of the Empire, after a self-imposed exile to the Unknown Regions, and long after the Jedi stole her away from him he had remained a figure in the background of her work. He was the first to teach her of Alchemy, the first to show her the true path she could hold - he had been the one who made her take her first life, who had pushed her to the very limits, and it was by his hand that she had come close to death twice. How odd it was that such had never happened since - even during the Metalorn Invasion she was never in any real peril. And so it was that, following the construction of her alchemical mask, he set her a new task.

To bring down the pseudo-Jedi.

Kära had watched from the sidelines as @[member='Tracyn Ordo']'s life disintegrated into nothing. First the loss of a child, at the hands of Kaine Zambrano, then his wife, and slowly the darkness set into him, a thick taint unlike any other. And she knew that it was the time to act - six years she had been watching, six years she had been waiting. And thus, when a young Knight came along with the hopes of proving himself, with the hopes of learning hidden knowledge, she found herself with an opportunity. Daxton knew that her skill lay in manipulation and the use of others - and while she could have brought the hulking monster in herself there was something oddly satisfying about knowing that another could and would, simply because it was instructed of him.

And so it was that @[member='Darth Avara'], better known to her as Adamus Straife, had been deployed. So it was that Tracyn was brought in, like an animal - caged and ready for whatever she had in store. They would be here soon, she knew, it was time to get all the pieces in their positions. "Set up a holo-call in the conference room" the then-still-Sith-Lady ordered of one of her many servants. Turning on her heels she left, changing into something more appropriate than training garments, and made her way to the room. When she entered everything was prepared and ready, now all she had to do was contact Bane. Sending out the required holo-relay she waited, waited to see whether Daxton would answer her callings after so many years. She had been but a child then, fourteen years of age and freshly Knighted.

But the child was gone, and Kära remained.
 
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