Private Ongoing Procedures

[Darth Senthral]

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Eyes. Eyes that saw no lies, none immediate to their viewing. This room resided within a plain of truth, all hard for digesting. Yet it seemed there were three sorts within the room. Darth Tennacus ever seeking to teach a lesson, and always being succesful in doing so. Perhaps the lesson was perceived differently from the Dark Lord's belief, but always were those taught a bit closer to his own point of view. Darth Senthral was he whom had the eyes, those dark eyes, that saw in two pairs when needed. The Beast Master, and yet Apprentice to the Teacher of Dark Side Ways.

Senthral was ever the Learner, and when scarce had he insight? Always was he most sure of it. Being himself, he knew this first and foremost. Though there was a third in the room, not a rogue element, but one brought in by the two Sith. A one Jhira Mereel , a Mandalorian, the likes of which eyes and ears had basked in before. He knew this, and yet she did not, perhaps one day she again would. If that were the Will of the Dark Side of the Force. Even through that previous knowledge, it was a different light that Senthral saw her in now. The strength of ideals when met with those seemingly akin, and yet so immediately at odds. The Sith were not so different from the Mandalorians, despite their bitter pasts intertwined.

Such was apparent to Jhira, and he now knew this. Perhaps then the plans that unfold not all too long ago were perfectly done so. All that was well and good, and yet in Senthral there was a feeling he could not shake. Pity. A pity he did not show upon his face, and one that could not be read in the air. No, it was one so very disguised, enough so that even Tennacus perhaps would not see it, it was afterall his Master who taught him how to hide emotions- from even Sith Lords. That pity was still real though, a sorry feeling for one he once knew, and now knew again. 'Old Friend. Conflict will always be near those like us, yourself now included. Though maybe you've been included far longer than even we made you. I never let myself fall to hope's for myself, but for you spare I hope, that you may come to terms with that fact.'

 

[Darth Tennacus]

There seemed to be a calmness about her despite the mystery which surrounded the Netherworld. Even Tennacus grew cautious about the mystical visits, knowing well the consequences of what came of those who failed to differentiate between the here and there. It was easy for one to become lost in their emotional manifestations: Sith who long lost their loved ones, now afraid to let go - with such determination that they never would. Tennacus would have to be sure they went about it cautiously.

The power to move between worlds was no easy feat. It came at a great cost of physical and mental strain, of which many would train for years before accomplishing so easily. Jedi trained in isolation for decades to master the ability to return from such a place in death. Getting there while life still moved through their veins would require substantial effort.

Thankfully, the Sith Lord had been taught to move in such mystical manners. His former master had done the same, casting him into the abyss, forcing him to come back of his own accord. Sheer will and determination - tenacity - eventually delivered him from the depths of such places, but he returned with knowledge of ancient Sith Lords that built him into the Sith he was today.

To get them to return, Tennacus went about the focus the same way. He thought back on memories, even reaching into the mind of his Apprentice to burrow into his thoughts, and surface such vistas that could be projected into the void - only to descend upon Jhira as an overwhelming wave of revelation. The Sith Lord had done exactly that, drifting through the dark sides infinite waves, instilling himself upon Darth Senthral 's mind to bring to surface memories of a particular place. When that memory surfaced, he cast it into the great void and forced Jhira Mereel to render unconscious beneath its straining worth, submerging the three of them into the netherworld that was merely black and devoid of luminosity.

But like a puzzle, the ground beneath them fell into place, rising up out of the shadows in pieces and fragments, until it conjured up a memory of which all three shared. It was a cantina, where the likes of such strange figures came from all corners of the galaxy: if not to hide or run, then to simply disappear. A place beyond the likes of political reaches; and yet where the likes of such political bodies gathered so secretly, revelling in the graces of twi'lek dancers, or drinking from the bottomless bits of illegal breweries that would never make it in legal trade. Maybe Jhira would slowly remember it.

But first the events had to unfold.