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Not a Matter if it Isn't Grey

Menoetius

Anzat's How it's Done
Writer
#1 Tyrin Ardik


Derisive Umbaran
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Posted 22 September 2013 - 12:45 PM

RUUSAN - JEDI ENCLAVE

@Menoetius

Tyrin had been scoping out this enclave for a while now and it wasn't for very good intentions. Truth be told, Tyrin really didn't hold anything personal against the Jedi. It was really just a matter of the current political climate of the Galaxy. Empire versus Republic and all that. This particular enclave also had something he wanted, though, so all the more incentive to crack it open. Tyrin would be doing a service to the Empire, in addition to furthering his own accumulation of knowledge.

These weren't really even Jedi, to be truthful. Mostly rejects from the order proper that were still zealous enough to come here and receive bastardized quasi-training from semi-Jedi half-professionals. Even if they were of the lowest caliber of Force users, they still had at least one holocron lying around here someplace that Tyrin had a hankering for. Their security wasn't particularly tight either, as they thought themselves exempt from the prying eyes of Sith opportunists.

Opportunists like Tyrin.

"Let's try this again." Tyrin said to the bound Jedi-wannabe, the poor disheveled man kneeling on the floor of a ruined library. "Where is the holocron?" The fighting had subsided in here a while ago. Distant fighting could be heard throughout the rest of the Enclave as Tyrin's Sun Guard mopped up the rest of the Jedi refuse.

"I don't know."

"Look, my friend, Eugene over there killed three of your friends who were trying to escort some of your younglings to safety. Those younglings are now captive in the next room. See that axe Eugene has?"

Eugene tightened his grip on the vibroaxe, adjusting it slightly so that the captured fellow could get a better look at it. It was certainly not an object anyone wanted to be hit with, that was for sure. Tyrin had seen Eugene commit a great many atrocity with that very same axe. That wasn't to discount the ones Tyrin hadn't seen. Men, women, children... Probably a house pet or three. Eugene nor his axe did not discriminate. The man was right at home in the Sun Guard.

"If you don't start expounding on the location of that holocron, or start to recall exactly the last place you saw it, Eugene is going to depart and start hacking digits and appendages off of those younglings. You have my utmost assurances that the rest of them will witness these things transpiring. We'll be close enough to hear it as well. The cacophony of screams will be something to remember. For you, at least. This isn't terribly different from my last weekend on Felucia, but I digress. You can avoid all this pain and misery if you just tell me what I..."

Tyrin trailed off. He felt something just then, something very unexpected. There was another presence in the Dark Side here. It was far stronger than his own, and Tyrin had no problem admitting as much. It was... A hunger? It felt insatiable. It reverberated throughout the Force like a tidal wave of power. Tyrin was caught completely off guard, to the point where he was now standing dumbfounded in the library, looking around expectantly for the source of this anomaly. The Sun Guard and Jedi looked on, puzzled more at the peculiar behavior of the Umbaran than something they could not feel, nor ever hope to understand.





 

Menoetius

Anzat's How it's Done
Writer
#2 Menoetius


Darth Erebos
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Posted 31 October 2013 - 08:35 AM

A robed mass of wretched humanoid flesh cascaded down a beautiful corridor within the temple, seemingly gliding over its marble floor. Its height, posture and raised hood screamed intimidation and, if that wasn't enough, a single crimson blade of dazzling plasma was ignited in the being's left hand. If anyone caught sight of this being, this personification of Death, and tried to peer into its face, they'd only be greeted with shadows. No distinguishable features were on display, despite the well lit corridor's best efforts. A well designed hood, or the will of Menoetius himself?

The hunger, the pull, the undeniably strong urge to consume that Tyrin had sensed, was inching closer. As it did, the sensation would only get stronger and stronger, almost to an unbearable degree for anyone attuned to the force. Anyone who was not naturally sensitive to the almighty powers that be would only feel the hairs on their neck stand on end as warmth, heat and hope were drawn away from their surroundings and into the very being that was Darth Erebos.

Usually, on most days of the year, Menoetius' impact on his surroundings wouldn't be so severe. However, in today's case, they were. Why? Because Menoetius had been stranded in the wilderness of Ruusan for close to a month with nothing but animals to feed on. He desired something more substantial. Nay, he required it. Fortune smiled upon the corrupted predator, as today a Sith raiding party had cleared most of the opposition he would have faced.

Erebos had sensed their presence long before he'd arrived. On a normal day, he would've seen logic and decided not to interfere, but today was anything but normal for Menoetius. Never before had his hunger been so prevalent. Driven by instinct, he marched on into the sanctuary of the light side, fully intent on having a wide variety of meals, whether they be light or dark.

Within the library, echoes of a blood curdling scream rang out. They started strong and continued for a good minute, gradually decreasing in volume and intensity, eventually petering out to dull groans. Their source: Menoetius' first victim. An unfortunate padawan who was in the wrong place at the wrong time. His lifeless husk was now just another statistic, his life energies violently ripped away and transferred to his killer. Now the echoes of footsteps drew near, closing in towards the library.
 
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