Sleep is for the guiltless

[Vaulkhar]

Coruscant
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Fate, the idea that all things are predetermined. Some believed divine beings had mapped out the fate of each star, planet and organism in the galaxy. Others believed the force had a hand in each facet of the galaxy. More often than not, most ignored the idea of it altogether. Sure, its both entertaining and unnerving to think everything happened for a reason, but what did it mean for those who were slaughtered when unable to defend themselves? What did it mean for the happy husband turned widow overnight, only days after his wedding? So few knew joy in the galaxy while many knew darkness and fear. Was it fate that covered the galaxy in the shadow of the Sith empire or sheer bad luck? Various answers could be given, but nothing concrete.

If fate was real, it sure had a funny way of doing things.

Years ago, two warring Sith Lords rose to power in the final days of the One Sith. Kaine Zambrano, then Darth Vornskr, stood shoulder to shoulder with many powerful Sith and aided in ruling the dark empire. Many believed him to be the true emperor, ruling from the shadows and manipulating each facet of sith life. Others cared not who ruled, but followed the giant faithfully. So few in the galaxy had the power, charisma and foresight to bring as much death to the galaxy as that of Kaine Zambrano. However, there was another. A man who rose to power beside the now dark lord. A man who felled an empire in a single sweep of his saber.

That man was Cyril Grayson.

Lord Cyril was powerful in the force, an established warrior, and competent leader. As death wrapped his shadowed hand around the One Sith, Cyril Grayson rose to contest him. What drove the man to such power? A burning hatred for the very empire he sought to rule. Once a noble jedi, Cyril fell to his hatred to destroy the One Sith from within. Guided by his fury, he rose both in name and power, many flocking to his banner in hopes of gaining his favor.

Cyril Grayson marched on Coruscant. Cyril Grayson executed the Emperor. Cyril Grayson left an empty throne in his wake.

Some believe the two Sith Lords were fated to face one another that day. To clash and bring about even more death around them as they engaged in a duel to the death. But it did not come to pass. Instead, Darth Vornskr left the planet, his forces joining him in his retreat. Soon enough, Cyril found himself struck down before the duel could ever come to pass.

Now, two men connected through the force beyond their understanding or knowledge walk the very same streets their father's walked. Drawn together by something, Cedric Grayson and Vaulkhar Zambrano march towards their destiny.

[member="Cedric Grayson"]​

 

[Placeholder 0128]

It had been many years since he had set foot upon Coruscant.

This world had been his father's home, once. In the days of the Republic, Coruscant had served as the Jedi Order's seat of power. It was here that his family had been forged, and it was here that they had been destroyed.

Walking the imperial streets was disconcerting. Cedric had been a small child when his father had brought him to see the Jedi Temple. The planet had fallen to Sith rule shortly thereafter, and the Graysons fled to their ancestral home on Ession for the safety of their children. It was only when the Republic stood on the edge of death that Cedric's father had allowed his hatred to consume him. With his wife in tow, Cyril left to bring about an end to the Sith.

Cedric never saw his parents again.

Walking the streets now brought him no measure of peace. The memories that flooded his mind were unwelcome. Were it his choice, he never would have come here. Unfortunately there were reports that a cult dedicated to the worship of his archenemy had begun to grow within the underlevels.

The Jedi Master had set off on his own immediately. It was a small threat, one he could deal with alone, but could certainly grow into a major problem were it left alone. Evading the imperials was not particularly difficult. They kept a tight leash on the upper levels, but the lower sections saw little policing. He strode through crowded neon-lit streets with confidence. His lightsaber hung from a terentatek sheathe at his belt, and his cowl had been drawn tight over his helmet. One with a bit of knowledge might mark him for a Jedi, or perhaps an imperial inquisitor, but no one saw fit to stop him.

His contact was only a street or so down now...

[member="Vaulkhar"]

 

[Vaulkhar]

Coruscant was a disgusting stew of filth Vaulkhar had grown to hate during his time with the One Sith. The massive city-planet was once his home during his training, but he rarely spent time there when he could control such a thing. Any mission or work that brought him off world was usually taken to avoid being there. It was perhaps the reason he had become so well traveled in his childhood.

Something else brought Vaulkhar to Coruscant this day. No particular mission from the Empire, just a desire to be away from it all. The past several years had been a blur of killing, blood and self loathing that left the halfbreed in a state of discontent. There had been promises of a better life made numerous times in the past, but they had never been delivered. Instead, he was manipulated time and time again by Sith and Jedi alike. It had left a deep seeded desire to disappear and die in his heart years prior. In his quest to find an end, he wound up on Sisio facing a talented duelist. Though he held back in the hopes of being slain, she had instead knocked him unconscious before transporting him to Coruscant.

Now he walked the streets looking for something.

A seedy bar cam into view as he turned one of the many corners within the underlevels.

"What the hell?" Vaulkhar moved inside and wandered towards the bar. One of the seediest human's he had ever seen was midway through wiping down a clouded glass as he approached. Slicked back, greasy black hair clung to his head. A poor excuse for a mustache decorated his ratlike features as beady eyes watched the Sith Lord's approach.

"What can I get ye, boss?"

The barkeep's words came out almost in a squeak as Vaulkhar's spiteful gaze settled on the smaller man.

"Corellion Whiskey," Vaulkhar slid into a seat as the bartender wandered off to complete his order. As he went, a group of haggard looking individuals wandered closer to the bar, encircling Vaulkhar. A sigh escaped him as his shoulders slumped.

"That's a nice looking lightsaber you got there, kid. You a jedi?" a heavyset kiffar stepped forward and pointed out the weapon hanging at his side.

"Get out of here," Vaulkhar's voice carried a hint of malice as he ordered the group off. He didn't even turn to face them as the drink was delivered to him by the bartender.

"That was rude, kid," the kiffar pulled out a simple blaster by design and prodded the Sith Lord's back. "I'm gonna have to ask your for that lig-" the question abruptly came to a halt as Vaulkhar's vermilion saber burned to life, severing the thug's hand in a swift strike. He stood and turned in a blur, his cloak whipping around him. The others moved to draw their own plasters but were met with a crushing wave of telekinetic energy that sent them flying across the room. Their bodies thudded against the wall, echoed by a horrific crunch.

Vaulkhar's eyes glowed the color of molten metal as despair rolled off of him in waves.

[member="Cedric Grayson"]​

 

[Placeholder 0128]

Normally Cedric would have ignored a scuffle this deep below Coruscant's upper levels. They were commonplace, and often times it was difficult to morally discern what had gone on. Interfering could result in one harming the wrong person without having any details as to what was going on, and so the Jedi adopted a position of apathy unless it was obviously out of hand. Keeping a low profile was preferable to white knighting a bar fight.

But then he heard the snap-hiss of a lighsaber, and stopped in his tracks. The waves of malignance that flowed from the source of the sound only encouraged his curiosity further. Coruscant had fallen under the imperial boot, and by extension their Sith masters. He didn't expect to come across one of their force users this far down, but it was certainly a possibility. One thing Cedric was certain of was that this was no Jedi.

A heavy sigh escaped the masked knight's lips as he typed out a quick message on his datapad to let his informant know he would be a bit late.

He stepped inside the bar, and found himself wincing at the scene. Broken bodies cast about, a kiffar missing an arm - not the best night out.

"I think you beat them," The Jedi mused as he folded his arms about his chest, his voice distorted and low from his helmet's modulator. This one was definitely a Sith, and likely not an acolyte by the manner in which he'd dispatched the aliens: which meant Cedric this was likely going to lead to trouble.

Lone Jedi tended not to be particularly welcome on imperial worlds. Too late to back out now.

"Not much of a fair fight, was it?"

[member="Vaulkhar"]

 

[Vaulkhar]

"Eh," Vaulkhar eyed the Jedi across the bar with a lack of interest. His gaze calmed from its spiteful orange to an icy blue as the power rolling off of him slowly faded away. The lightsaber in his grasp deactivated, pulling its thrum of energy and vermilion glow back into the hilt along with it. People dashed out of the bar from the brutal display, but Vaulkhar seemed unbothered by such. Rather than give chase, he kicked out the stool beside him so it slid a few inches away from the bar. Almost nonchalant, he nodded towards the seat before returning into his own. "It's never a fair fight. Someone always holds an advantage, it's only ever a matter of when and where the weaker party falls. Some," he paused while looking back over his shoulder to the dead. "Fall quicker than others."

Knuckles rapped against the counter beside Vaulkhar as he looked back up at the bartender.

"Whiskey for the gentleman," Vaulkhar took a sip from his drink while the tender opened his mouth to speak. A hand rose to silence the man before he could even begin. "I'm not asking for a conversation, grunt. Get the drink and get out of here," the Sith set his cup down and stared the bartender down. Caught in a precarious situation, the barkeep complied. A fresh glass of Corellion whiskey was delivered to the open spot beside Vaulkhar. With the task complete, the man fled for his life.

"What brings a Jedi to the underlevels of Coruscant? Hunting Sith, are we?"

[member="Cedric Grayson"]​

 

[Placeholder 0128]

A brow was raised as the Sith made his demands of the bartender. Underlevels or not, Cedric was not too keen on seeing ordinary people treated in such a way. That coupled with the mound of broken bodies piled in the corner of the bar only served to sour the Jedi Master's mood.

There was nothing he could do here, of course. It was likely that the imperial police would let the Sith go without any trouble, and intervening would only bring their wrath down upon him. He had little desire to fight a running battle, and even less so to lose his opportunity to meet with his informant. Left with few options, and not having the desire to take his leave just yet, the Jedi settled up on the stool alongside the Sith.

His posture was relaxed, but he was ready to draw his blade should it be required.

"There's an ability called Malacia," he mused as he eyed the glass of whiskey. "Might serve you better. Not sure what started it," he waved a hand about, "But something tells me they didn't all need to die like that."

It was as much criticism as he was going to offer. He hadn't been here to see how it all went down, but past experience with Sith had him leaning toward the whole situation being blown quite out of proportion.

Cedric leaned over the counter, dropping a few credit chips to compensate for his drink whenever the bartender returned. "Just here to meet a friend," a lie by omission, but still a lie. "If I was hunting Sith then I think my job would already be done."

He didn't dare remove his helm. Instead, he unclasped the lower jaw of the phhrik slab, allowing his mouth to meet open air. He drew the glass up to his lips, taking a testing sip. "The core imperials taking on Sith Lords now?"

[member="Vaulkhar"]

 

[Vaulkhar]

"If I wanted them incapacitated, I wouldn't of sent them crashing into the wall," the retort was offered as Vaulkhar pushed his glass of whiskey a few inches away from him. "Scum fuck gangsters aren't given mercy. Had I been an unprepared apprentice it be me on the floor, not them."

Music played from somewhere in the bar, offering a soft but jaunty tune that echoed throughout the room. It did little to alleviate the tension caused by the corpses behind the Jedi and Sith duo.

"I'd say you're pretty good at it, if that was your line of work," Vaulkhar watched the chips bounce against the small space behind the counter storing the various drinks and beverages. Whether or not he had seen through the lie was indecipherable. "I don't know, are they? Someone dropped me off here at my request. I was hoping to cause enough of a stir to meet a reasonable enough end."

He lifted the drink once more and downed the rest of it. Even the sweet taste couldn't mask the strong flavor of the liquor as it burned its way down his throat and chest. He winced slightly as he set the glass down and pushed it away once more. A few credits bounced down beside Cedric's as Vaulkhar straightened a bit. For whatever reason, he peered over at the Jedi's mask and eyed it for a few seconds.

"Interesting design, what brought it on?"

[member="Cedric Grayson"]​