The giant rook watches from the dead trees~ [Kiskla & Tamara]

[Darth Carnifex]

Iridonia
Republic Space

It had begun a few weeks ago, the occasional act of what seemed to be random violence. Stabbings and shootings in crowded areas, heists and robberies, many of them frequent happenings in a world on the very edge of Republic space, as was with most worlds that were on the brink of any galactic society. However; as the murders became more and more frequent, they took on the appearance of ritualistic slaughters and sacrifices uncommon on Iridonia. Officials believed that some new cult was rising among the shadows of the underworld society, but nothing could be traced back to anything concrete. For a time the murders subsided and seemingly disappeared all together, only to come back in full force in late summer, the murderers targeting people at seemingly random, but with no limits to who their targets were. The young, the old, man, woman, children, no one was safe from their blade.

However; the increased frequency of these murders led to a more in-depth investigation which in turn led to some arrests, but that itself led to even more questions as the individuals in question were highly resistant to interrogation. Few cracked, but all they could reveal was an organization known as the Disciples of the Rook were behind the string of ritualistic murders and kidnappings. They had one centralized leader, a man known as the Rook, but efforts to track him down this mysterious individual ended in failure and numerous false arrests. Thus individuals of sterner stuff were called in from Coruscant to assess and handle the increasingly problematic situation, namely @[member="Kiskla Grayson"] and her faithful companion @[member="Tamara"].

Would they be able to uncover the source of these heinous crimes? Only time would tell...

 

[Valiens Nantaris]

@[member="Darth Vornskr"] @[member="Kiskla Grayson"]

And thus Tamara was on the way to Iridonia. As she sat in the passenger quarters of the ship transporting her and the Jedi Master Kiskla Grayson, she looked over the notes. Unexplained murders, resistant suspects, panic and confusion? A grave matter indeed.
"Disciples of the Rook. Rook...interesting choice. There's a sort of bird on Corellia by that name. Informally it's used to refer to a thief or criminal. Hmm...have you heard it used like this before, Kiskla?" she asked.
Rooting around in her bag she produced her datapad and looked at it for details, but came up with little. "Yes, black bird, carrion. Curious name...."

 

[Kiskla Grayson-Matteo]

The enemy at large had been stomped into the ground. The Republic was comfortable. Sure there were minor spurts of darkness here and there, infiltrations, bad public relations, etcetera -- but for the most part there were few major enemies to rise against the flourishing faction.
That did not mean however, that the shadows had been entirely eradicated. Hence appeared the case with Iridonia. A Republican world was being terrorized, and it was therefore the duty of its protectors to step in. Unfortunately, there was something particularly tainted about these reports and an average soldier simply wouldn't fare. There also needed to be an edge of diplomacy involved, as this could potential strain ties.

"No." Kiskla replied, setting down her datapad to marvel at the knowledge for a moment. "Abstract titles have always fascinated me. I think it would be neat to have a separate nickname." Kiskla sort of did, but not really. It was still her surname when people only knew her as Lady or Sheyf Freya. She wanted something cool, an alias she could go about with and not have it linked to anything.

"But that said, identity is important for this sadist, which makes me think this is no amateur organization." She was no Jedi investigator, unlike recently Mastered Liadain. She was merely a speculator driven by insatiable intrigue. "If they want to remain unknown, there's something deeper involved. More sinister than terrorism."

Their transport shuddered, and Kiskla's eyes dropped back to the information their Iridonian contact provided them. "What do you know of Iridonia's past? This isn't some sort of resurrection of anything is it? These reports allude to a cultist suggestion all too often for me to be comfortable."

@[member="Tamara"] | @[member="Darth Vornskr"]

 

[Valiens Nantaris]

@[member="Kiskla Grayson"]

"I have plenty of nicknames. Not all of them pleasant," Tamara said with a chuckle.
"The name is very important, yes. This is not an ideological or political group...or if it is it's wrapped up in this leader's persona so closely it's no matter. The resistance to interrogation suggests a cult. I suspect that this is some sort of grouping which has an agenda but which is linked to this one person."

"Is there any relationship in the victims? Human, alien, male, female? Anything?" she asked, looking over the records. "I've never been to Iridonia, so I'm not sure."

 

[Kiskla Grayson-Matteo]

"You've never been to Iridonia?" Kiskla repeated, slightly baffled. Then again, neither had she. But she was not centuries old. Oh well, a first time for everything!

"And no, nothing -- they don't seem specific. Just for the need to draw attention. Perhaps some of them wanted to be arrested, and draw conclusions toward this elusive Rook." There was a faint conversation going on over the intercom that the pilot was handling, and Kiskla closed her datapad to look out the window at the giant orb they were approaching. With an exchange of information, they were permitted to enter the atmosphere. She hoped that perhaps they still had some of the victims in a morgue, and hadn't cremated them all. Or the criminals. With some luck, she could use psychometery on them and try to trace more connections to the organization.

A few minutes passed, and the lights in the passenger area where they were seated turned red to indicate they were landing. Responsively, Kiskla strapped into her webbing. Just in case. The landing was uneventful, and off the webbing went as the councillor rose to the lifting part of the ship, which allowed the two passengers to step out.

Once out of the vessel, a horned welcoming party had gathered to meet them.
"Ah, Jedi." They saluted as the blonde and her wild, raven-haired friend closed the distance between bodies. "Thank you both for coming in such a timely manner. These reports are most unsettling."

Kiskla bent at the waist respectfully. Of course they would come. The Republic needed to keep those in it's palms happy, and to ignore their blatant and exasperated please for assistance would be most unwise. Especially if it sounded like Sith were behind it all. "Of course." Was all she offered in the form of pleasantries, however. "I'm Jedi Master Kiskla Grayson, and this is my associate Tamara. We've reviewed the files you sent, and there are a few loose ends we'd like to try and close. Do you still have any of the perpetrators being held?"

They nodded, and began leading Tamara and Kiskla to the holding cells. Once there, the two women were greeted with the view of a very confused, and rather disgruntled looking Iridronian civilian.

"Good luck." One of their escorts scoffed "We've tried various methods -- all of which fall short. They're all like that. Useless and don't give any kind of info."

"So I suppose that eliminates the good cop, back cop technique then, hm @[member="Tamara"]?"

 

[Valiens Nantaris]

@[member="Kiskla Grayson"]

This writer sheepishly admits they forgot this thread, and has now been prodded into life, and thus shall respond!

Tamara pouted slightly. “There are billions of star systems in the galaxy, and millions of inhabited worlds. Even I can’t go to them all!”

Landing, they were met by the Iridonians and taken through. Tamara had let Kiskla do the talking; she was the official one here after all! Meanwhile she nodded and bowed, looking like the Jedi Master’s offsider rather than a real person in her own right.

Finally they were shown in to where a prisoner was being held in the cell.

“I was never a particularly good at that. I always seemed to end up being the bad cop, and I can’t do that. Do you have any details on who this is?”

 

[Kiskla Grayson-Matteo]

"Really?" Kiskla asked. In truth, she'd done very little two-on-one interviews. One, on her home planet when an Anzat had attempted to assassinate her. That had been a little more hostile, but funnily enough, she'd been the more placid of the two; after all, she wasn't the one that had poured Force Light into the Sith until he'd nearly burned to death.

As if on cue, and before Kiskla could sheepishly answer no to @[member="Tamara"]'s question, one of their escorts passed over a datapad of information to the raven-haired woman while offering an explanation.

"He won't tell us his real name, and has no identification tags on him."

 

[Valiens Nantaris]

@[member="Kiskla Grayson"]

Tamara considered, sizing up the prisoner for a moment, then smiling at the guards. "Thank you, we'll take it from here!" she told them.
Reluctantly, and a little nonplussed, they left.
Tamara lifted a chair and sat it down in front of the cells. "Well, this is nice. So, I understand you don't want to give us your name, but surely if you've nothing to hide then it's not a problem, right?"
It was a deliberately weak opening round. From his reaction she'd determine the next move.

 

[Kiskla Grayson-Matteo]

What @[member="Tamara"] was met with, was incoherent garbage.
The words spewed from the disciple's lips like spittle, going this way and that without looping back to once central thought or syllable.

The only fragments that were anywhere near understandable were bone-chilling. And it sounded like a mechanical echo from the lips of the horned culprit, rather than his own voice.

T̶ h̵ e̴ y̴ ̵ m̶ u̶ s̴ t̴ ̸ a̶ l̶ l̴ ̸ b̶ e̷ ̸ s̸ h̶ o̸ w̵ n̴ ̸ t̴ h̴ e̶ ̵ p̷ r̷ i̶ c̴ e̸ ̷ o̸ f̸ ̵ t̴ h̷ e̷ i̸ r̸ ̵ d̴ e̶ f̵ i̷ a̵ n̷ c̸e̶ .̶ ̷ Y̷ o̵ u̴ ̵w̸ i̵ l̶ l̵ ̵ b̴ e̸ c̶ o̶ m̵ e̸ ̷ m̵ y̶ ̵ f̶ o̵ r̴c̷ e̸ ̴ o̷ f̴ ̷ r̸ e̶ t̵ r̸ i̵ b̵ u̵ t̷ i̵ o̶ n̶ ,̵ ̸ w̴ h̸ e̶ r̶ e̸ ̶ y̵ o̵ u̴ ̸ t̵ r̸ e̷ a d̵ ̴ d̵ o̸ o̵ m̷ ̵ w̸ i̷ l̷ l̵ ̸ f̴ o̴ l̵ l̶ o̶ w̵ .̴ ̷

Blonde brows shot up, and the Jedi cast a side-long glance at her friend, before stepping nearer to her and leaning against the frame of the cell, peering at the individual inside. Her arms folded and she squinted slightly.

All manners of voice would affect this person the same way, she determined. His aura was lifeless, although he was very much alive. She could hardly sense a unique signature about him, but rather one that had been altered with sketchy electro magnetics all over the place. She could hardly get a decent reading at this distance. Still, she allowed her companion to delve deeper. At least she'd got a response!

 

[Valiens Nantaris]

@[member="Kiskla Grayson"]

Tamara was pretty surprised at the response she had gotten also. Frowning, she played back the mechanical voice in her head as best she could, then went to the camera station and listened to it again.

“Hmm, interesting. Implanted suggestion through the Force. His mind’s been emptied aside from this one message. He’s basically a walking vox recorder.”

Tamara walked over and passed a hand over his eyes. There was no response.

“This gives us a few clues. This Rook is the one who has to have done this…and he’s shown off his handiwork. Now we know what to look…or sense…for. He must have powerful command of the Force if he’s able to maintain this control over a distance and for so long.”

She walked behind the prisoner, examining him closely. There were no name tags or other identifiable markers, but there was…something.
Reaching out her hand, Tamara used the Force to pull a small fibre from the prisoner’s trousers. It was a different type to the ones he wore. A clue…or possibly a red gizka!

 

[Kiskla Grayson-Matteo]

"We could have their labs run it," Kiskla spoke, eyeing whatever it was her wild-haired companion had uncovered. "Or, I could read it now, perhaps trace it back to the origin and gain some visual insights to what this Iridronian last saw?" Red gizka or not, the prisoner felt @[member="Tamara"]'s use of The Force. The last time he had felt any sort of midichlorian manipulation, it had come from the dark shadow that gave him the instructions to slaughter the families of the officials. It hadn't been one murder, not one death. That would have been something the authorities could handle, something they could have connected. No, it was bloodshed of entire families. Overkill to say the least.

The Iridronian protested, but only recited the last words that had been uttered to him by his supreme commander, @[member="Darth Vornskr"]. The messages were much clearer this time, dark and hoarse. His mind was utterly chaotic, as was evidenced by the satanic syllables that followed "All that I am, anger, cruelty, vengeance, I bestow upon you... my chosen knight. I have granted you immortality, so that you may herald a new dark age for the Sith. Gaze now upon the lands above us, the Republic scurries to undo my work. While the capital stands defiantly against us, a blemish upon your new world. They must all be shown the price of their defiance. You will become my force of retribution, where you tred doom will follow. Go now and claim your destiny, Disciple of Rook."

 

[Valiens Nantaris]

@[member="Kiskla Grayson"]
Tamara’s eyes widened as she listened to his words. She clenched her fist slightly.
“Well…now we know more. A Sith agent using these poor souls for his own terrible reasons. Instantly the threat level and the danger has increased.”
She looked at Kiskla. “We need to tell the authorities about this, but I want you to try and use the Force on him to try and get him to open up. Not aggressively, but whatever I did worked, so if you try it, it must be for all the better, right?”

She eyed the fibre in her hand. It was black or perhaps dark blue, very soft and smooth.
“If we can undo the control we might be able to turn him back to our side…or at least make him able to understand what he has done.”

 

[Kiskla Grayson-Matteo]

Kiskla frowned. Not only were the words chilling, but the realization that someone's mind could be that muddled and mushy was an abhorred thought. She had intended to use the Force on the fibre, rather than the living being. The last time she'd done any sort of memory walking was on board the Olra'ren in the cargo hold. It had been jarring, to say the least. Still, she suspected what the time traveller said held some merit. He had spoken with far more clarity when the Force touched him.

"I've a feeling psychometery would be right up your ally," Kiskla commented, stepping into the cell and closing the door behind her in case by some stroke the prisoner got a burst of energy and decided to run rampant again. The barrier would delay the process "Although, seeing into the past is probably far different for you than myself." Idle chatter aside, Kiskla dropped to one knee. If Tamara wanted to learn psychometery, Kiskla would indulge her. It was the Kiffar's greatest strength, afterall. But Tamara, companion and...quasi-student was gifted with telekinesis beyond belief. It would be something they should pursue after this. MC-980s would be nothing but pebbles one day; and Tamara had all the time in the world to practice.

With one knee against the concrete, Kiskla made her frame adjacent to the seated prisoner. Steadying her position, she reached out to the prisoner's temples on either side. Thankfully, his hand were cuffed although he made no movement to swat her away. With an inhale, Kiskla centred her focus on the present thoughts of the creature -- manipulating a use of mind trick and psychometery. The present was tremendously confused, nothing but words bouncing about the alien's cavernous skull. Externally, Kiskla's brow furrowed with concentration. Metaphysically, she was pulled into a dark series of events that could easily make someone dizzy or space-sick.

Screams, splatters of blood, darkness and shadows, all flashes were mere blips before her vision. After moments of dizzying images in a whirlwind if information, certain scenes began to play longer than the rest. Hazy at best, due to the overcast and heavy shadowing of the area, Kiskla could make out the likeness of a boiler room. There were machines chugging and churning -- it was more the sounds than anything; the crude groan of metal against metal.

The scene cut, although a haunting growl followed suit to the next. The prisoner's victims. The high ranking official -- identity betrayed by his garb -- then his family. The corpses received a glance from their murderer, then she saw his hand lift with the crimson stain of his prizes. Lettering twisted against the walls. The giant Rook watches from the dead trees. Nothing breathes beneath his sh---. Unbeknownst to Kiskla, this would be the last transmission she would be allowed to interfere with. Slowly, the image began to recede before she could finish reading the last word.

"No," she gasped briefly, unaware of her audibility. Frantically, the intensity of her focus hardened; but in her panic her attention was diverted. It didn't matter. There was an overwhelming shadow, a metaphysical grip reaching out to reclaim what belonged to it. The presence invaded the thoughts of the past, present, and inevitably the future of the Iridonian. The darkness ripped through it's victim, and beyond; reaching into the young woman who was invading it's space.

Realizing that this could be cataclysmic to her already vulnerable chemistry, Kiskla severed her connection and snapped backward; losing her balance as the Iridonian trembled viciously convulsing with confusion. Stunned and slightly dazed, Kiskla reached out to infect the Iridonian with a positive beacon of light ---- however, nothing could be summed in her core. Her mind had too much of the lingering infection to help stay the poor prisoner. She'd have to break the influence before she could project her own.

@[member="Tamara"]