Xevek Nekonis
From The Shadows
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Primordial secrets and obscured pasts dotted the deep expanses of the Galaxy, ruins and relicts of ages long since passed, societies that had withered away until the sands of the passing times had consumed then - reclaiming them and pulling them back into the void from whence they had came. Creation begat destruction and destruction begat ruin. From ruin came the forgetfulness of time. Such had been the cycle for eons and such a cycle had recently concluded within the timeframe of the Galaxy, to disastrous effects.
Four-Hundred years of nothingness had recently come to an end, the void of information and knowledge heavy and ever present - that which had come about during the years forgotten and that which had come before it nothing more than tattered rumours and whispers. In the wake of that void had come innovation, societies stepping along the path that those whose stories had been lost had once walked. However, even as the populous of the galaxy resumed a staggered stride amidst the chaos of war, eyes of those that sought to delve into secrets, often secrets that should have been left alone, turned not to the future but to that which had been lost.
For, after all, even when a flame is smothered, ash remains - remnants of the fire that had once raged, evidence to its existence. Upon that tattered tapestry of the past, floating alongside torn whispers, danced ash, the ash that spoke of what had been reclaimed by time and nature. Ash that was pursued by greedy fingers and prying eyes. And, within the darkness and nothingness, there would come knowledge and learning. After all, greed, passion, desire? They all were the base drives for all sentient beings - that which could override the animal instinct present within them, force them to dismiss the whispers that told that to turn back, to leave behind the goals they sought. Nothing, not even the void, could suppress those drives.
The Shadows that curled within the rumours of the chaos-stricken galaxy, pushed forward by their greeds and passions and desires, had woven their way into the crevices of realities. The Eyes of the Shadows were ever alert, ever eager to seek out what their selfish desires ordered them to seek. And so, as was inevitable, the sight of ash and dust would reach the Eyes, whispers of what had once been dancing upon the threads of reality. From the Dark and Shadows, they would come, ready to learn and Create from what had been.
From the Dark and Shadows they would come, ready to start the cycle of time anew.
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Steady sounds of metal impacting metal rung out within the empty room, cold in appearance due to its lack of furnishing and bland, grey, metal wall. Of course, such a room did not exist separate from all other things and, in fact, was located within the bowels of a building that served as its exact counterpart. As, on the floor above, was a well furnished, stylish room decorated in gentle colours, leather seating and filled with the soothing scent of some obscure herbs and spices. The two floors above that, though, served as an even greater contrast as sweaty, scantily clad bodies danced and shook in time with the steady, heavy beat of pounding music, drunken shouts and catcalls filling the air alongside the pungent and permeating scent of alcohol; a den of debauchery encouraged only by the alluring figures of the Twi’lek and Togrutan Dancers that writhed beneath heavy lighting.
The Black Adder was, indeed, a study of contrasts that further down, and the more private, the floors went. Public and open to all, so long as the beings that came had came by invitation or, instead, had a deep enough wallet to pay for their entry fees and the prices of the services offered (or risk being spirited away in the midst of sleep to pay of their debts in a different, more uncomfortable, manner), The Black Adder was presented as nothing more than a high-end club lost within the sea of other clubs similar to it on the moon of depravity that was Nar Shaddaa. Drinks flowed just as any the drinks would flow at any other club. Backroom deals were whispered about and dealt within within its walls. Dancers twisted and performed for the pleasure of groups or individuals, pulling in the focus and desires of all those that entered the club. Blackmail was born and found by seeking, eager eyes as inhibitions were loosened. A club no different than any other of Nar Shaddaa.
Unless, of course, one was to delve below the levels of sin to seek out the ones that funded and controlled The Black Adder. For, below the noise and pomp, the Adder served as a safehouse, meeting point and even place of relaxation for those that operated within the Shadows under the banner of the Sith Assassins. Evidence of this, of course, could be found up above, within the tattoo that adorned the necks of bartenders, servers and dancers alike; tattoos that signalled their training and allegiance to those in the know. And, rather than being made to suffer within the crowds above, the Assassins were permitted to a floor of their own, one filled with quiet luxury in the form of: maintain leather setees and chairs, a wonderful view of the nightlife of Nar Shaddaa from one-way and heavily reinforced glass, an ever-stocked and free bar as well as the isolated terminals - separate from the holonet and outside services - that listed orders and information on contacts, targets and those suffering under the known or unknown threat of blackmail the galaxy over. And, of course, rooms to sleep in that contained closets filled with an array of weaponry from poison to blade, from slugthrowers to blasters.
But, beneath that, was a floor known only to two - the one that had opened The Black Adder and his Right Hand: Darth Lykos and Darth Gvibr respectively. That floor served as private rooms for the both, rooms that would fulfil their needs whether it be a place to rest, a place to work and scheme in private or a place to spar and train. It was within the latter room, the one designed for training, that was in use at the present moment and that rung within the sound of metal upon metal.
Blooded, a thin trail of crimson dripping from the corner of his lips, the panting form of a sweat soaked and tattoo riddled Iridonian Zabrak slowly circled around the room. Bared feet and sharp claws solidly picked their way across the freezing cold metal that was the floor with ease and strength that did not reveal how stinging the purposefully low temperature was nor the tiredness that flared within aching muscles and bone. Opposite him, flittering in and out of the blind spot created by the Zabrak’s lack of a right eye - the cause of such clearly evident in the shattered and deformed right side of his face, was a droid comprised of sleek, black tinted metal and glowing red ‘eyes’. A droid that had been programmed by the Zabrak to know of his every move, to be able to read him at a level equal, if not better, than his ability to read himself; all for the purpose of pushing him beyond what he could do, to prevent his skills from stagnating and rotting away into dust.
Suddenly breaking from his careful pacing, the Zabrak surged forwards, claws digging into the metal floor to leave additional new dents that had been created in the hours prior. Maching him, the droid rushed forwards as well, a heavy blow leading its way as it sought to shatter the ribs of the bear-chested Zabrak.
Dropping down into a handstand, body twisted and folded in two, the Zabrak kicked out with his heels towards the bottom of the outstretched limb, diverting it up and away, before collapsing forwards onto his side - just missing the fist that would have shattered the bones in his legs. Twisting in place, digging his feet into the floor while keeping low, he pushed forwards, left arm shooting forwards to drive the black cybernetic arm of the Zabrak into the chassis of the droid - causing yet another sound of metal impacting metal to ring out. At the same time, his other arm wrapped around the shoulders of the droid, his push driving him upwards as muscles bunched and the Zabrak wrapped himself around the shoulders of the droid.
Unbalanced, the droid crashed backwards, the Zabrak twisting around as it did so, so that he ended up atop of it: his legs pinning its arms down, his flesh and blood arm holding its head down and his cybernetic fist resting at its neck. It was at this point that the figure that had entered during the lunge - one clad in heavy, dark robes that had thick, black hair tumbling out from beneath the hood with white feathers contrasting sharply from where they were intertwined among the strands and a white mask obscuring their features - spoke. As their voice drifting into the quiet from where they stood within the doorway of a door that had blended seamlessly with the blank walls of the room, droid and Zabrak both stilled so that the heaving chest of the panting Zabrak was the only movement being made.
“Master, I have news.”
For a moment there was no response until a single, growled word was spat from the Zabrak. “Krest?”
Despite the single word response, it was clear that the masked figure knew what was left unsaid, clearly able to see the meaning within that one word. “No. One of our Eyes from the Outer Rim has messaged us with the an encrypted missive headed by the words “Ashes Found, Dark Remnants”, a set of coordinates and two names. Aurum.”
“...The Second?” Impatiences dripped from the snarl as the delay dragged on for a few seconds.
“Keoz.”
For a moment, the stillness reigned before a long, rough chuckle fell from the Zabrak’s throat. Standing up slowly, ignoring the aches that pulled at his body, he gestured with his hands - causing the lights of the droid’s ‘eyes’ to dim and flicker out of existence. Running that same hand across his face and his shutting his lone eye, feeling the ridges of scars and the deformity that lined the side of his head, the Zabrak shelved the feral rage of his species, the rage that he had been permitting himself to feel while fighting, and pulled forth one of his many masks - this one being one of the ones closest to his true self.
When he opened his eye, it was not the gaze of the Zabrak that glared forth at the masked form of Darth Gvibr, but the gaze seething with frozen, patient fury that was Darth Lykos. “I see.” Cold, icy and lacking the feralty of his previous words, Lykos spoke with careful enunciation. “I think this is worth cutting my training short. Come, Tiae. I wish to see this report. I assume that you have decoded this missive already?”
As the two stepped from the room, Gvibr falling into step slightly behind Lykos through habit, the door slid shut behind them, plunging the room into still, silent darkness.
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Darth Lykos, one of the two remaining Horsemen of the Council of the Sith Assassins, stared down with a silent, contemplative gaze at the nature-consumed planet that was Aurum. Shrouded in the Shadows, his Presence buried and concealed within the Force, he stood silently within the cockpit of his ship as it sat in orbit above the planet. Clad in a pair of armoured trousers, a rudimentary, leather breastplate that was more ceremonial than designed for combat and a heavy cloak Lykos was sure that he cut a rather odd image, especially should he be stood next to some other being. Of course, that was not the current state as the near-powerless ship - nothing active beyond the necessary and the Stygium Stealth systems - was bereft of all persons apart from himself and Gvibr; who was currently preparing at the back of the ship.
Left to his thoughts, the Assassin chose to reflect once more upon the briefing that his Eye had delivered, attempting to discover something that he may have missed even as he had spent hours pouring over it, committing it to memory. It would not do, after all, for him to have overlooked some simple passage that detailed a defense, of either the planet or the ruins that he sought, and have that overlooked detail end up costing him the success of the expedition.
Rumours had spoken of a ruin upon the planet of Aurum that had once been a hold and keep of the Je’daii Order. Within it, deep below, the rumours had said, there had been a vault wherein the Darkest of Sith Artifacts and Secrets had been stored, sealed away from all but Masters of the Order for fear of their corruptive influence. A bombardment had destroyed the Enclaves, the ruins of them now being slowly consumed by the nature that was strongly present across the planet, but, what was unknown, was the state of the Vault. Had it to been destroyed in the bombardment? Or had it remained safe, it's Dark contents safe also? The Eye that had compiled the report had taken the briefest of time to possible to scope out the area, failing to sense anything (logical, the Je’daii would have wanted to fully contain these artifacts, even their Presences within the Force, if they were restricted to Masters only) but succeeding in identifying a small force gathered on the planet; including one of said force that Lykos had provided a description of to his Eyes and Shadows after the meeting he had had on Teth. One Asha Hex; Keoz.
Near silent footsteps shattered his thought process and drew his attention to the entrance of the cockpit. Striding forwards to lower herself into the pilot’s seat, Gvibr stood clad in a similar outfit to what she had worn at The Black Adder, the only difference being the fact that the robes she had worn, robes that had been used to conceal all aspects of identity including her gender, were gone, replaced instead by simple armour plating. That, and the fact that the mask she had worn was currently grasped in her hands.
However, the fact that she was currently without her mask did not make any big difference to her appearance - in Lykos’ opinion anyway. Her features were cold and blank, carefully sculpted so as to prevent showing any flicker of emotion or thought. An ever present mask, but, this one of formed out of flesh. But, then, that flesh-formed mask was soon concealed as the actual mask was fitted into place, where it was curtained by loose strands of feather-woven hair.
“The message has been sent, Tiae?”
“Yes, Master. The Assassins know that they are to wear no emblem, bear to insignia. They know that they need not concern themselves fully with traditional stealth at this juncture, that should they make their presence known the the Je’daii forces it is not of any worry, that in doing so they will serve to pull the Je’daii’s focus to the Enclave ruins and its secrets - hopefully leading to the Je’daii uncovering more ash ridden secrets for us to pursue for us - while holding them back while a select few pillage what they can.”
A chuckle that was not reflected upon his face rung out within the cockpit as Gvibr began to pilot the ship into a sharp descent to the plant’s surface. “Why do you always insist on listing out what you have done like that instead of a simple yes?” Of course, no answer would come, the question being rhetorical as Lykos already knew the question. He had trained her to do so, to ensure that her first instinct was to list her action so that he could ensure that she did not interpret his orders in such a manner that she acted against him and his interests. At this point, the instinct to do so was so engrained within Gvibr she could not choose to do otherwise.
Silence would soon resume within the cockpit as Aurum loomed all the larger before them, the shade of the night cast heavily upon the location they sought..
The ashes of the past had danced upon the wind formed of rumour and whispers. And, now, from the Shadows They had come, driven by their desires, they sort the remnants of the fires of the past. From the Shadows, Lykos drove them forwards to seek that which had been lost and devoid by the cycle. From the Shadow, They had come, ready to learn and create, starting the cycle once more.
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OOC Note:The objective for the Sith Assassins, to put it plainly, is to infiltrate the ruined Je'daii Enclave on Aurum under the dead of night, with the Assassins having permission to engage the Je'daii to interfere so long as the Assassins do not bear any defining symbols, for the purpose of finding the Vault sealed beneath it that is rumoured to contain ancient and dangerous Sith Relics.
The objective for the Je'daii is simpler: prevent the Assassins from besmirching the sanctity of the historic site.
