The Punishment Due... (TJO/Pub and LS Jedi Only)

[Ket Van-Derveld]

Mon Calamari​

​

​

New Coral City​

City Center Marketplace​

There he sat, quiet and unassuming, watching the world go by with nearly lifeless pale blue eyes. Such pain and regret coursed through his body, and his only comfort was the now solitary voice within his head; his own. Gone were the voices, gone was the madness that once defined his very nature and being. Now? He felt a hollow, shell of a man. No purpose, no gods, no masters. He was a wanderer among the life of the galaxy, treading down long winding roads with nothing more than the clothes on his back and a few trinkets from a past life. He watched as all manner of species roamed the open pathways within the markets, the world on Mon Calamari teaming with life once again. It amazed him just how quickly a world could recover from devastation in these troubled times. It gave him an odd, twisted sense of hope. Yet, it was hope none the less. Something he'd not felt since his youth, so long ago. But that was another time, another world, another existence. Only recently did he feel himself connecting to it once more, and understanding just how much of a blight he'd truly been over the centuries. Even as he lay in hibernation, hidden away from the goings on, his influence helped to shape the state of things, if only a bit. But even that bit was more than most would ever accomplish in their time in this life.

He sighed lightly, sitting there in front of that hole-in-the-wall food stand, a plate of some such steaming in front of him and growing colder by the moment. A Mon Calmarian man pointed to the food, asking him if he intended to eat or not. But before he could answer,t he man let him know one way or another, he was still owed credits for the plate. Nodding lightly, Ket slid more than what was owed. "For the food, and the time." Smiling, the Mon Cal nodded, and left him to his own devices.

Taking his datapad out from one of the pockets of the long, tattered black robe he worse over his customary leathers, he typed out a simple message...


~ To the Jedi of the Galaxy,

Who I am is really not of concern any more. Who I was, however, might be. I was once a Sith Lord. I was once a deranged and bloodthirsty man who slaughtered more than died in most of the wars raging across the galaxy these past years. I was once a person of ill repute, and someone who was so far gone, he found joy and happiness in cruelty and torture. I was a very bad, horrid person. That may not be what I am now, for now I roam this galaxy a broken, aimless, and empty wanderer. I have nothing worth giving, and even with all the power and knowledge at my fingertips, I feel useless, alone, and unworthy of it all. I have bent and broken the Force itself to my will more times than I can count, and now, all I can do is attone for my actions. All I can do...is the accept the punishment due. You will find me sitting quiet and alone in the markets of New Coral City, on Mon Calamari. To those who know not, I blend in like anyone else. To those such as Jedi, I am easily found. I await the judgement I am owed.

...Who I am now is no one, simply a man wandering the galaxy.

...Who I used to be, was Ket Van-Derveld. ~


And quietly, as he closed his eyes, he sent the message off and away over encrypted channels of the holonet to it's intended recipients. He had a feeling they would come, and they might bring many with them. And for that, he could never blame them.



[member="Ilias Nytrau"] , [member="Thurion Heavenshield"], [member="Kiskla Grayson"], [member="Corvus Raaf"]

 

[Tydeus of Tion]

The salt air, a blend of fish and seaweed, stung his nostrils. He breathed in deeply nonetheless and sighed even harder. Ocean surrounded New Coral City, farther than the eye could see. But Ryan was not troubled by what the eye could see, but by what he could feel. Death lingered here, pinpricks in the Force like little wounds where the violent deaths of Jedi and Sith had torn into the very fabric of creation. On Mon Calamari, the Sith Emperor Kaine Zambrano had made his stand and on Mon Calamari he had fallen to Jedi hands, captured not slain.

Yet today Kaine Zambrano was free, tormenting the galaxy once more. He had caused the death and torture of more Jedi than any other Sith, whether they died at his hands or at those of his followers. So what was Ryan Korr to take from the Battle of Dac? A lesson... or a warning?

Steel grey eyes turned to survey the bustling market district of New Coral City. Fishermen stood at their stalls, offering their reeking hauls for sale. Fish of every color and type lay on display. Quarrens, Mon Cal and many other aquatic species mingled with loud, busy squalor. Here and there were blaster pockmarks and structural damage, traces of war, but the overall resilience of the planet gave Ryan hope.

The Jedi Knight moved through the crowds, his brown cloak over a cream tabard and brown boots drew little attention. He brushed back a crimson lock behind his ear and pursed his lips. He quieted an inner storm and released old hatred as he drew on the Force to center himself. The power rushed into him, around him, a river of light. Korr closed his eyes, for eyes were a distraction. He stopped listening to the sound of the market, for what were they compared to the whispers of the universe? He stretched out, feeling not the cold chill of the ocean spray nor the sweat on his back or the itching fibers of his coarse robes, but the pulse of the city.

Presences flared to life, like beings of flame. He brushed across their thoughts, their troubles and the lingering sorrow for the lost. Breathing evenly, Ryan narrowed his focus, sifting through them until he came across one that scalded his mind. He reared back from the acidic touch, then approached more tentatively. True, there was a touch of darkness hovering about this aura like a toxic fog, but he could feel something deeper within, something more. Light? There was a wild quality to the presence, as of a vornskr in the jungle, yet alone. Where was its pack? Had it always traveled thus?

Ryan Korr's eyes snapped open, glowing a white-blue. People and structures faded, becoming as transparent as wraiths. His gaze swept the crowd, searching until at last they settled onto a form outlined in red.

There he is. Just as he said he would be.

Slowly, Ryan closed his eyes and let go of the power. This part was always the hardest, letting it slip through his fingers like sand. If only he could seize and wield the power without holding back... but that was his inner storm talking. When he opened his eyes again they were their normal grey.

Now to go see about [member="Ket Van-Derveld"].

Korr strode through the crowd with purpose, making a bee-line for the presence that had singed him.

The young Jedi came to a halt before the barrel-chested figure of a Sith Lord, or a man who had once carried that prefix. It remained to be seen. The Jedi's early twenty-something age was belied by his appearance. A highland crag could not have appeared more weather beaten, nor could a greenhorn soldier have born so many scars, but it was the unyielding quality to his eyes which truly gave that granite expression the semblance of age.

He bowed to the older man.

"Greetings Ket Van-Derveld, I am Jedi Knight Ryan Korr. "

 

[Corvus Raaf]

Like so many scholars, Corvus could tell you all about the massacre of New Coral City. How the Mon Calamari Council was slaughtered and the genocide of the Mon Calamari had begun. Yet ask her about the planet of Dac today and she was woefully lacking in knowledge.

So following her meeting with Avreet, she’d decided to return to Ossus via the planet of his ancestors. Was it a whim or the Force in action? It mattered little but no sooner had she set down in the capital city that was quite lierally build on top of the ocean when a message flashed up for any Jedi in the area to go to the City Centre Marketplace and identify and detain a former Sith Lord that had made himself known to the Republic.

She recognised the man’s image from the debrief following the raid on the Jedi Praxeum. Another coincidence? Corvus did not believe in luck. So she sent a message to the Grandmaster, confirming she was there and would await back-up before progressing – but would at the very least confirm the identity and presence of the former Sith.

What was it with Dark-sided users and seeking reformation? Two in a row. Another twist of fate? She shook her head but then pushed the thought from her head. She needed to focus on the here and now. And so she raised her hood in the customary pose that indicated she was a Jedi on business and set off.

She found the place easily enough and finding the man was relatively straightforward – especially as he was about to be approached by a Jedi Knight she recognised.

[member="Ryan Korr"] | [member="Ket Van-Derveld"] | [member="Kiskla Grayson"]

 

[Ket Van-Derveld]

He looked away from the plate of a food, if only but for a moment. He looked this man who stood before him up and down, taking in his visage. This was the one whom he battled upon the Praxium not long ago. A Knight, if he was not mistaken. The boy had stones the size of pallets, he gave him that. Yet, he knew such thoughts were not the thoughts he needed to entertain anymore. Still, he could feel the boy's thoughts, emotions, his very being as if they were merely a book laid out in front of him. The pages were thin, and turned with no effort. He sighed again, quickly, and quietly. Pale, lifeless blue eyes looked to him, and he spoke evenly, his words meant as nothing more than truth.

"Knight Korr. Whilst I can appreciate your...enthusiasm, I expected those who had true say with your order. Grand-master Grayson...Knight Raaf, even Knight Truden." he paused a moment, and sighed for a third time, waving off his slight bout of dismissal. "Please, take no offense to this, Knight Korr. But I could squash you like a bug with nary a thought. I want those who run the Order to find me. I am not one who goes quietly, if the scuttlebutt is to be believed."


[member="Corvus Raaf"], [member="Ryan Korr"], [member="Kana Truden"], [member="Kiskla Grayson"]

 

[Tydeus of Tion]

Ryan breathed in deeply, then exhaled through the nose. Scarred features remained as inscrutable as his mind.

"There are others," Korr said. He glanced knowingly over his shoulder at [member="Corvus Raaf"] as she approached. Eyes of storm grey fastened back onto the Sith Lord. "But Grandmaster [member="Kiskla Grayson"] sent me. My worthiness in your eyes is irrelevant."

"You asked us to come, we're here. Now you can continue making tactless threats, or you can discuss your business."

[member="Ket Van-Derveld"]

 

[Kana Truden]

Ket Van-Derveld. Now that was a name she had only heard once. It was the reports of the Praxeum, the time she learned to shut up around those who outmatched her. At this point it didn't matter. Had you asked her about it before her personal quest to Hoth she might've given another angle to the whole thing. Who would have known that spending thirty five weeks in solitude would help clear your mind? Things had been put into perspective and emotions ironed out.

Not that this post is about Kana but for some reason these were the things that ran rampant through her mind. As the message from her once-enemy reached her through means beyond anyone's imagination there was a big part of Kana that simply wanted to look into this "Ket".

The shuttle still in transit carried her onward. Whether she would be able to meet this person depended on if she could access hotel wifi or not over the coming days. Truly her mind had been at unrest lately in an abstinent cryout for writing in an environment where the means had been lacking.

 

[Jorus Merrill]

[member="Ket Van-Derveld"]

"Thing about bein' a Jedi," said a new voice, and a spacer like any other spacer shuffled out of the back of the dive with a scuff of bootheels on deckmetal. "Thing about bein' a Jedi, and this is a good lodestone for a soul, I've found -- a Jedi respects all life an' all voices. In the Order, when all's running as it should, a perspective doesn't get tossed off because it's comin' from a Knight or a Padawan. The will of the Force could crush you like that bug, Derveld, an' I generally find it's the young that hear it best. Fastest way to get taken seriously, as a grownup an' all, isn't to snap your fingers an' do what you do, it's to take others seriously. The measure of a man, the only measure of a man worth a clart, is how he treats those he might call his lessers. There's been more than one ancient all-powerful fellow like you been taken down by average folks."

In better light, the spacer -- couldn't be Captain J.Q. Merrill, he'd died at Second Teta, everyone knew that -- was still just a spacer. Tenloss Ambassador revolvers in a Baas leather gunbelt, hands nowhere near the guns. No lightsabre, no beard, no burlap. Then again, Jorus Quentin Merrill, Master of First Knowledge, had looked pretty much exactly like this.

"So what'll it be, Derveld? You wanna get taken seriously?" Hyperlight glinted in Jorus' eyes, just for a moment. "All you gotta do is be nice to the kids. Tell us -- an' yeah, I mean us -- what you're thinkin' about. Give us your measure as a man."

 

[Kiskla Grayson-Matteo]

Typically, redemption was something right up her ally. But these days, she was positioning herself to be more so of an enabler. That had been the primary reason for her dissolution of the Jedi Council, after all. To allow the opportunities for others to develop. So, [member="Ryan Korr"]'s statement indeed held both truth and value. The grandmaster would be introduced to the situation at the last moment if necessary.

 

[Corvus Raaf]

OK, now the stakes were being raised. She could feel the tension from some distance away and although she could not sense emotions without lowering her own defences, she didn't need to be a Jedi to read people's faces.

But before she could reach the conversation a familiar face beat her to it. Admittedly she was more interested in the holocrons on his ship but the man that allowed her to access them - well you don't forget that kind of Jedi in a hurry. Back then she was a young Padawan, barely a few weeks into her time on Ossus. A heck of a lot of water had flowed since then. Some of it ran red and she had quite a lot of scars to prove it.

So she continued to walk towards them, closing her eyes briefly and using Force Sight. This could be a trap of course, and if there were any other Force presences, she needed to know who and where. And she paid particular attention to null points. Facing voxyns not once but twice will do that to a girl. So she looked for signs that a Force presence was being cloaked - a blip on an otherwise pristine mental map.

[member="Kiskla Grayson"] | [member="Jorus Merrill"] | [member="Kana Truden"] | [member="Ryan Korr"] | [member="Ket Van-Derveld"]

 

[Ket Van-Derveld]

Spacer or not, Ket knew the voice. He knew the inflections. As much as anyone wanted to disappear, no one ever really did in this crazy galaxy they all called home. But to acknowledge it, that wasn't his place. At least, he didn't think ti was. Truth be told, He had more to do here than he'd had to do in ages. And Merrill's words, they sunk deep like a sharp knife, deep within the very core of his being. He was used to such things yet, but even he could not help but acquiesce to their truth. The young and inexperienced, they knew more of the truth than anyone, for they had nothing else to go on. They did not have all the experiences and adventures that the old and weary have had. The youth of this glaxy knew far better than those such as he, and for good reason. They hadn't been corrupted by the harsh reality of existence. And the Jedi's youth even moreso, as they had yet to fall victim tot he whims of the darkness. Of easy money, of unlimited power, and of unadulterated pleasures. The Dark Path was the quick and easy way out of the misery and hardship. At least it still was, when he was still young.

He listened to both Jedi as they spoke, and he sighed quietly. He could feel more than just the two, perhaps it was just his subconscious influence upon the Force, but he felt more than what was seen with the naked eye. And yet, he could not even begin to blame them for it. Why shouldn't this be a trap? Why wouldn't be something concocted by devious Sith trying to maim and kill the Jedi by any means they could? Yet, it wasn't. Try as they might, there was nothing else but Ket. He'd made sure of that. No one would follow him, none even knew he was here until he sent out that message. He felt no connection to any of the Sith he knew of, and to none he didn't at all. All he could do was listen tot he Jedi here, and nod lightly. He didn't have the quick wit anymore to do so even if he wanted to. They were right. He was wrong. Simply truth, no matter how you looked at things.

He wanted to reply, he wanted to answer his question, but he couldn't do so with mere words. Merrill was right, and the lone wanderer answered the only way he could. Slowly taking hold of the edges of the tattered black robe he wore, he let it slip down to the ground. The floor-length coat beneath it was dull and worn, a white button up dress shirt underneath, untucked. A pair of semi-loose leather pants below, covering well-worn black leather boots. He curled both of his ring fingers, and from the sleeves of his coat, a pair of identical lightsabers shot forth. He took hold of them, and flipped them sideways. Sighing lightly, he placed them gently on the table that held the now cold plate of food that he'd ordered so long ago. Reaching down, he pulled the KD-30 Dissuade slug-thrower from it's holster, and set it down next to them. From behind him, he pulled a dagger and it's sheath from his waistband, and set that down on the table as well.

He paused a moment, looking to Merrill, and decided that action was the only way to answer the question posed. And so, he turned away from Jorus, and faced Knight Korr. He took a few steps toward him, and then offered his wrists and hands, holding them out as if waiting to be shackled. That was his answer, and considering to whom he took such action, he hoped it sufficient. He hung his head slightly, but knew that this was what must be done. And with quiet reservation, he spoke lowly to Knight Korr.

"This is not about redemption. This... this is a reckoning. Do with me what you will. The Force shall decide my fate."



[member="Corvus Raaf"], [member="Kiskla Grayson"], [member="Jorus Merrill"], [member="Kana Truden"], [member="Ryan Korr"]

 

[Jorus Merrill]

[member="Ket Van-Derveld"] [member="Ryan Korr"]

"Cuffs will do fine for now."

Jorus had no telekinesis. He dealt with the weapons by hand. Each sabre went in a wide belt pouch, one of his sister's creations; the pouches sealed off the sabres from the Force, removed them from the equation. He tucked the gun and the dagger into his belt, another of his sister's creations -- also designed to interfere with interference, at least the Force-related kind. Not that the belt alone could keep Ket from reclaiming his weapons if he really wanted to, but that wasn't the point. The point was to slow, to distract, to make reclamation difficult. Not that he genuinely expected a faceheel turn here, but sensible precautions had their place.

 

[Tydeus of Tion]

The eyes of the Jedi Knight watched placidly as the former Sith Lord divested himself of a small arsenal. Though Ryan Korr's face remained as stone, it would be a lie to say that he was not surprised when the barrel-chested man offered his hands up in surrender. A rare gesture, Sith or no.

Their gazes locked for several heartbeats. What was the measure of this man, who wished more for judgement than salvation? Did he believe himself beyond saving? Perhaps. He seemed more resigned than penitent. A man who thought his fate fixed in the stars. Someone tired of clawing through the mud just to eek out an existence. Someone tired of fighting.

At last, Ryan nodded.

He reached a hand inside his robes, fingers brushing the hilt of his lightsaber as he moved to his belt and withdrew a pair of leather bound cuffs. He locked them onto [member="Ket Van-Derveld"]'s wrists. Each cuff closed with an anti-climactic click.

"Ket Van-Derveld, I place you under the arrest of the Galactic Republic and the Jedi Order. Your willing compliance is noted. No harm will come to you in our custody until you stand trial." He frowned. "The Force is not without mercy, for those with contrite hearts. I will deliver you to the Temple on Ossus myself."

Korr glanced at the Spacer, who was busily tucking away Ket's arsenal. He had the kind of been-here-done-that face that inspired confidence, despite his rather vagrant appearance.

"Thank you, Citizen."

[member="Jorus Merrill"] [member="Corvus Raaf"] [member="Kana Truden"]

 

[Corvus Raaf]

Corvus hovered a few paces away. She knew they all were aware she was there but didn't feel there was any value in joining the discussion. If anything she was likely to complicate matters.

So she adopted the role of back-up. Knight Korr and Master Merrill had the situation under control - or at least as much under control as their 'prisoner' allowed. The cuffs were symbolic. He was under arrest because he chose to be. Which meant it could change at any moment.

The trouble with playing the passive role was that it gave her time to think. Such as why give himself up? Why not simply leave the Sith and disappear. Do charitable work? Did he actually want to be punished or did he an an ulterior motive?

But she was a Jedi - and it was not her role to judge. The Republic would decide the fate of the former Sith. But if he truly repented and if the sentence was disproportionate, she was unsure how that would make her feel. But once more she pushed the thoughts from her mind and focused on the here and now.

[member="Ryan Korr"] | [member="Jorus Merrill"] | [member="Ket Van-Derveld"] | [member="Kiskla Grayson"]

 

[Kana Truden]

A man gets cuffed in the middle of the day by jedi. The word of Ket's arrest had been hard to keep down. A whisper turned into a buzz turned into the biggest rumor around town as Kana remained seated by the loading ramp to her ship. For the time being she was perfectly content with playing the waiting game. Maybe that was for the best, being in charge of prisoner transportation and all that.

She threw an idle glance at the people that passed her by. The irony in that she was meeting a sith around Mon Calamari was not lost on her. Each of them passing the ship by, eyeballing her as if she was doing something weird. She took little notice of it but returned the occasional glance here and there figuring that it was her sleeveless tunic that made her - and any other Jedi - look like a poor vagrant sitting on the ramp to a ship quite out of her league.

With a blank expression across her face she remained on a vigilant look out for the others. Not that she knew who were in charge of the arrest. Well, except for one person, really. That one signature in the crowds that she was sure she could sense anywhere.

Master Corvus Raaf. This would be the second time they met after her return from Hoth. Well, except for the alchemy class but even then the details, causes and reasons of her sudden disappearance went unexplained in a hazy maze of "We'll talk about it later".

Now would be no different. These things would be explained when the time was right.

 

[Tydeus of Tion]

With other Jedi circling about like hawks, Ryan was not too concerned with a double-cross. They could handle it. The collateral though? Unacceptable. Grimacing, he escorted the Sith Lord to the waiting shuttle.

From Mon Calamari they departed to Prison Ship 522, where [member="Ket Van-Derveld"] would be temporarily incarcerated until the paper pushers sorted things out.

While the shuttle was en route, Korr seated himself in a plain metal chair at a plain metal table inside a plain metal room. On the opposite side of the table was Derveld. The handcuffs were still in place, more ceremony than any real hamper, though the terentatek leather would prove nigh impossible to escape.

Ryan carried a file with him and tossed it onto the table.

"Our official report on the Praxeum incident. We know you were there. We also know you had an accomplice. What we want to know is.... who?"


[member="Corvus Raaf"] [member="Kana Truden"] [member="Jorus Merrill"]

 

[Corvus Raaf]

Corvus watched Knight Korr take the former Sith to his waiting shuttle. Once they'd taken off, she returned to her own ship and pondered her next move. Should she stay here as previously planned, or follow the shuttle?

Discretion being the better part of valour, she prepped her vessel and set a course for Prison Ship 522. She was sure she wouldn't be needed - but her Jedi training told her to plan for success - and then plan for failure.

Dac would still be here when she got back...

[member="Ryan Korr"] | [member="Jorus Merrill"] | [member="Ket Van-Derveld"] | [member="Kiskla Grayson"] | [member="Kana Truden"]

 

[Ket Van-Derveld]

Ket walked silently in front of Knight Korr, up to the ramp to the shuttle. He paused a moment, silently accepting the fact that his own ship, The Deceased Star II, was not a ship he would step foot on again for quite a while. Still, it was docked, safely and securely, somewhere it would not be tampered with. He'd taken all the needed steps to ensure that before he sought passage to Dac. His effects would be gaurded and safe with Merrill, and his other trinkets, weaponry, and other little baubles would be well safe where they were now as well. If they could survive eight centuries of storage where they had been, they would survive a while longer in the same places. True, he wasn't sure he'd need most of it anymore, but even such simple vanity was not lost on him. One never knew when an item might come in handy. After what in reality was but a second or two, he continued up the ramp, in to the shuttle proper.

He was led into a room, made of simple durasteel, and 'offered' a seat in a chair of the same material at a table of equal simplicity. He paused a moment, and then sat down quietly. Knight Korr followed swiftly, slinging a filing folder on the table as he sat down across from him.

"Our official report on the Praxeum incident. We know you were there. We also know you had an accomplice. What we want to know is.... who?"

Ket sighed lightly. To Knight Korr, this was a simple question, with a simple answer. Either Ket would tell him, or he would not. For Ket, this was not a simple question whatsoever. True, he was free of the madness that had plagued him since birth, but to betray those who had called themselves ally to him seemed...wrong. Not just wrong, but a betrayal of trust. While it was true that he no longer considered himself a Sith, or even a Darksider for that matter, he felt it hard to come to grips with that fact that here he was, being asked to betray the trust of even one whom show their trust in him. His eyes closed but a moment, and he thought on the question but for a moment. After to him what felt like an eternity, he opened those lifeless pale blue eyes, and answered thus.

"I can appreciate that which you seek, Knight Korr. But I shall not betray the trust given to me, even if by those whom I might hunt myself for the crimes they have commited. I have given myself to the Jedi for judgement and punishment due. I have not nor can not give up those whom did not consent to the same fate I have given myself over to. It would not be...right. I have given myself over to the Jedi Order. Anyone else must either do the same, or you will have to seek them out the hard way."

Ket paused a moment, and in his eyes, Ryan could see the regret of having to say what he did.

"I am... sorry. But there is no other answer I can give you."


[member="Corvus Raaf"], [member="Jorus Merrill"], [member="Kiskla Grayson"], [member="Kana Truden"], [member="Ryan Korr"]

 

[Tydeus of Tion]

"You picked a strange time to develop a conscience, Van-Derveld."

Korr was less than pleased by the retort. Encountering honor among thieves tended to induce a strong desire within him to stand up and go bang his head against the wall. His resistance to that urge was growing less and less with every passing moment spent dealing with the problem who was Ket Van-Derveld. A man who spurned redemption, but sought judgement. A reformed Sith who claimed to want to do the right thing, but would not even give them the name of his accomplice.

The storm within began churning. An overcast gaze regarded the Sith.

"Lack of cooperation taints your willing surrender. What sort of malformed honor prevents you from revealing your cohorts?" Ryan pressed on, question rhetorical. "No. I don't think you will be doing any hunting soon. Not for the next hundred years."

Korr stood, chair squealing as he pushed it back. He picked up the file, expression stern as stone and filled with disapproval. then headed for the door. He could sense the man's stubbornness. He had had enough headaches for the day. If Ket wanted to rot in prison, let him rot. It was likely less than what the murderer deserved.

[member="Ket Van-Derveld"]

 

[Ket Van-Derveld]

"A promise made is a promise kept. I could not trust myself if I betrayed my own word, even now. It may seem trivial and for lack of a better term, idiotic, to you. But it means everything to me. If I break my word now, I can never trust myself properly again. And if I can never trust myself, how can I expect others to trust in me or my word again?"

Ket watched as Knight Korr stood up, looking as if he wanted to beat his own head against the wall as much as much as Ket's. Before he existed the room, Ket made a very simple observation.

"For a Jedi, you seem to have a very lax understanding of what it means to understand a person, let alone an idea. You may think I have no honor, but you, my young friend, seem to have very little patience. It will be your undoing, one day..."

And with that, Ket simply let well enough alone, contemplating the nature of the Force, and his place within the galaxy whilst he waited for the shuttle to dock with the prison ship. Truth be told, he actually felt sorry for Ryan. He knew all too well the narrow ledge of impatience, and the path that it led to.



[member="Corvus Raaf"], [member="Jorus Merrill"], [member="Kiskla Grayson"], [member="Kana Truden"], [member="Ryan Korr"], [member="Avalore Eden"]

 

[Tydeus of Tion]

The Jedi Knight paused at the door at Ket's words, frowning slightly.

"Perhaps."

And then he was gone. The door closed behind him with a soft *click*.

Docking with the prison ship was uneventful. Korr notified [member="Kiskla Grayson"] with a short, straightforward notification that [member="Ket Van-Derveld"] was in custody and being transferred to Prison Ship 522. If she wanted to deal with him in person she would come, if not, well, Republic authorities would handle this one. Which was why Ryan Korr opted to let [member="Caid Centurion"], Admiral of the Republic, know that a highly dangerous Sith Lord was being held on the edge of Republic territory. If there was a break out, Ryan didn't want Ket running around on a stolen ship with nobody chasing him.

With the higher ups now notified, Ryan wondered how long he would have to play babysitter before the Republic's justice system swallowed the Sith whole.

Ryan showed up to escort Ket to his new holding cell on board Prison Ship 522. Floors, walls, all were that stark white color that made your soul feel empty. Thankfully, he could feel [member="Corvus Raaf"] in the periphery of his senses.