Private Mysterious Meeting on Miranda

[Taramaz Arcturus]

Location: A Cabin on Miranda
Armour: Mark-V Centurion Battlearmour
Weapon: Blood of the Count, The Forgemaster's Hammer
Tags: Malok

​

It was a particularly cooler night on Miranda. At least, compared to it's regular temperature. It did not concern Taramaz, however. Sean-Olc were a naturally hardy species. They had been known to be able to march through snow that was waist high on a normal human, while barely clothed. Though, in saying waist high on a human, it was closer to knee high on a Sean-Olc, who were notable for their extreme height, averaging 13 feet. Taramaz in particular was about 14'2.

On this night in particular, he was sitting on a chair on the porch of his cabin, overlooking the large cliff that he had once gotten stuck on in a drop pod when he had been human, and rather smaller. The days when he was an active Knight of the Obsidian Order. He had disappeared many months ago. He had been assigned a Recovery mission to a backwater moon somewhere on the border of Confederate Space to the south. Reports of a Force Artefact, nothing that would warrant a task force, barely a partnership. Yet he was sent in a Scimitar-II with a Knight Squire, the last report from his Scimitar-II was brief, noting how he had landed on the planet. The next scheduled report never came, nothing abnormal in the midst of an investigation, considering how some Force Artefacts' interfered with communicators.

However, it was the subsequent two reports that never came that rose suspicions. It was the last recorded transmission to the Knights Obsidian Headquarters that raised alarms. It had been static, aswell as several gut-wrenching screams of pure terror, that once decoded, were the voice of the Squire. Several other indistinguishable sounds were heard, but were described as being similar to tentacles, and sizzling flesh. The transmission then ended. When a Task Force of Knights was sent to investigate, there were no marks of the ship even being where it was recorded as having landed. The only evidence of the Partner's presence on the planet was the body of the Squire, with a large hole in their torso, as if something had hit him, and tore right through, something with inhuman strength, even considering force augmentation.

A week ago, Taramaz had arrived on Tatooine in the midst of an attack. Once all had been settled, the Vicelord had found a courier with a datapad. The datapad had a singular message on it. A date, attached with coordinates, exact coordinates of the cabin Taramaz now sat in, and the date was this day, according to Galactic time. The datapad could not be traced, the only fingerprints were the courier's, and there was no history on the datapad. All inspections indicated that it was brand new, and used once, presumably to place the message into it.

Taramaz has sent that message, and now all he had to do was wait to see if his brother showed up. There was a good chance he wouldn't. In fact, it was more likely that Taramaz would soon meet with a Knight of the Obsidian Order. Perhaps he would be arrested for investigation. Perhaps he would legally become a criminal then. He would not allow himself to be captured, he knew that.

 

[Malok]

Location: Miranda - Surface
Tag: Taramaz Laurs

Too close.

When the Sith Lord guided the southern systems in forming the Confederacy, one of his aspirations was the preservation of his family. It had been one of his grandest designs to ensure that his siblings and children prospered through his efforts. Yet, one of the greatest weights upon the Vicelord's shoulders were his failures in this regard. This was one such truth that he did not speak of openly; yet it pained him beyond words. Ever since the formation of the Confederacy, he had lost siblings and children to battle and plague.

From his youngest sibling to his cherished daughter - death swept through his lineage like a mighty flood. The tide, seemingly, claimed Taramaz Laurs as well. What was supposed to be a routine mission to procure an artifact had turned into yet another limb scorched from the family tree. Yet, despite the Sith dispatching his best Knights to recover his sibling, they found nothing. Not a trace. Then, as time moved ever forward, a courier appeared out of nowhere. And with him, the supposed whereabouts of his sibling.

At first, Darth Metus decided that he would immediately go to Miranda and see his sibling. However, every advisor under his supervision warned against it. It was too dangerous they cried, it reeked of a trap. Eventually, logic won out and a compromise was reached. Thus, as the heavens gave way to a Scimitar II-class Star Courier, its descent did not immediately reek of the fanfare befitting the Vicelord. It settled down with little incident and lowered its ramp to the blighted surface below.

The occupant within - a specifically chosen Knight, lowered to his knees within the cargo hold. Arms spread wide. Ancient Sith poured from his tongue until finally...his vision glazed over. Shadows immediately began to pour from his mouth as a fountain. Spilling and billowing down the ramp and over the broken earth of Miranda. As the Darkness advanced, a more corporeal form began to form. First, a demonic visage...but eventually, that of a far more familiar shape. By the time the Darkness reached the cabin's steps, a shimmering reflection of Darth Metus greeted his sibling.

Brother. came his voice, uttered purely by the Force. You live! How. What happened to you? Concern and confusion were evident in his voice. As was caution.​

 

[Taramaz Arcturus]

Location: A Cabin on Miranda
Armour:
Mark-V Centurion Battlearmour
Weapon:
Blood of the Count, The Forgemaster's Hammer
Tags: Malok

Taramaz stood, his battlearmour submerged in the darkness, the only source of illumination had been the red visor. Yet as he stepped forward, he slowly removed his helmet, showing off his altered features in the light cast by the torches that adorned his porch. The wooden planks shook and bent under his heavy footfalls. His grey eyes watched as the Scimitar-II descended down to the surface of the barren planet. He watched as the ramp lowered, and shadows began to pour out.

His face remained emotionless as the shadows began advancing, almost as if to overtake him, and swallow him whole, absorbing him into it's infinite depths. Then it halted near his cabin, and the form of his Brother had soon formed. A smirk grew on Taramaz' face, perhaps out of an instinctual nature at seeing his brother, perhaps that they were not teaching the Knights Obsidian rubbish. Or maybe it was because his message had reached the Vicelord.

The moment of emotion, of which had now become so rare, soon faded, the smirk dying with it. The thirteen foot monster of a human chuckled as Isley asked how he had lived. Perhaps he might not have chuckled if he had not experienced it first hand. He stepped down from his porch, taking his hammer from the table next to his chair as he descended the brief steps to meet his brother. His voice broke the silence, yet not in the Galactic Basic that his brother had questioned him in, rather in Mando'a, a language he hoped Isley remembered, if he had known it.

"A dinui par gar, may bic serve gar jate'shya than bic hasme."​

With the short sentence, he offered up the hammer to his brother. It was a large thing, the handle nearly as long as the arm of a human. He held it out to his brother, before breaking the silence again, with another chuckle.

"Perhaps it might be best if you instructed the Knight to come collect it once we are done conversing. I had prepared a rather large bottle of Alderaanian Fire Rum for your arrival, yet I doubt that will be much use to use as of present, perhaps another thing for the Knight to collect."

He paused, and for the briefest of moments, his eyes flashed with electricity. He then laughed, turned around as two chairs moved to the ground that had been behind him moments before. A rare luxury among humanoids, yet something so common among Sean-Olc. The manipulation of the Force without channelling it was rare enough, but to do so without looking had to be even more so. Taramaz sat down, levelling his line of sight with his brother once again. He gestured to the chair while awaiting a response.

"I suppose I have been most rude in ignoring your original questions. Krosis. Ah, you probably don't know the word, it's closest translation is apologies. I am aware of the means of which you now appear to me, though I have not seen them in person. I am, unfortunately, unaware of the full extent of it. Though my best guess is that it is similar in nature to a hologram, is it not?"

"Now, to answer your questions. I am alive, by whatever definition you might use. I breath, and my hearts beat. Yes, plural, hearts. I have multiple. Though I must admit, my life was never truly in danger. My Great Uncle assured me of that. Not a Great Uncle you are related to, mind you. You needn't be concerned, for I am perfectly fine, I dare say, even better than I was before. I could almost definitely wrestle a Rancor in this new form. And my Force Powers have been expanded a million-fold."

"The story is quite long and interesting, though I will spare you the details of the afterwards. Once my Scimitar had landed on the Moon, the Squire and I did as we had said we would. We interviewed locals. Nothing of interest, from our investigation, the artefact was nothing more than a rumour. It was upon our return to the Scimitar that we were attacked by a man, my Great Uncle. He meant no harm to me, yet we were chased down to the Scimitar. The Squire foolishly attempted to send a message while I confronted our chaser. I assure you no harm was meant by either me or the chaser. Yet it was when the Squire realised he could not get a message out that he took up his saber, and charged my Great Uncle, who was forced to grievously injure him. By the way, did you find the body?"

"To cut the rest short, we were transported through a means I could not explain, for the Galaxy, perhaps the Universe, is not ready to understand it. Yet we were transported to a Temple dedicated to my Great Uncle, I was brought to a ritual chamber, and transformed into my new form. I have spent the rest of the time in training with my new powers and form. Before you ask about the armour, my compliments go to the Minister of War. I do believe Exarch Malvern gives him too hard a time. He is most useful at keeping business private. I dare say he had every opportunity after a month of my being gone to inform you of my exact whereabouts."

"He is a poor career choice, though. He has every aptitude to be the Minister of Secrets. Or is he?"

Taramaz offered a final chuckle, before awaiting the response of his beloved Brother, of which he gave a gesture to.