Diplomacy Unholy Union: The End

[Mercy]

Coppperline, Stennaros, Aur Diamonds

Naamino Zuukamano Matt the Radar Tech Darth Nefaron Veradun Sharr Taeli Raaf Darth Carnifex​

The last stage.

It had to be.

They had traveled so far, done so much, the horde had to be tired by now. Her hunger must be sated by now. Except it never was, they all knew this. Even the ones that had never met her, knew her by reputation. This monster that was called sister by their Empress always wanted more. More worlds to swallow, more meat to turn to mist in the grinder. Abregado-rae had been nothing but a warning to her, while for some it was a tragedy on an unspeakable level.

To a creature such as that, would there ever be enough?

Don't think about it. Just keep going, one more, one more step forward before the stage was set and the end was finalized. Then they could rest. But for now, these worlds, diamond and otherwise, were waiting to be plucked.

To be taken.

Remember the words of the Sith'ari. Let them invigorate you. Let them excite you. Because at the end of all this... there would be a reward, a prize, for those who saw it all through.

Go forth and claim what you can. As quickly as you can. Bring to me these worlds and their allegiance, expand our territory until you are sick with avarice and your veins are running black with exhaustion.

Do what must be done. Make your Empress proud. Make me proud. Bring as many of them home and we will reward you.

This, your Sith'ari decrees.

 

[Darth Nefaron]

STENNAROS
TAG: Veradun Sharr

Though reborn through the darkest mysteries of the Force, Nefarious had not forgotten his near-death experience above Thyferra.​

While he now strode the galaxy as a living plague in all but name, he was acutely aware that there were other, more terrible powers hiding in the darkest corners of known space that could be used against him, something he could simply not allow if he was to see his grand design through to fruition. But he could not trust the hunting of these rogue elements to mere agents; he must attend to such things himself.

But he also needed to secure an equally rogue element.

His Apprentice.​

Now a Dark Lord, the boy had become something altogether different from the frightened child that he had taken from the confines of the Sith Academy. He was vain, greedy, and above all else, ambitious, unaware that his master had also taken steps to increase his own powers. That is why he was summoned, why they traveled alone to bleak Stennaros to seek out the power of the local inhabitants, the so-called "force-eaters". While looking nearly identical to the native inhabitants of the embattled Stennaros, the force-eaters possessed a unique connection to the force that saw them gain abilities not unlike those of the Jedi or Sith, but some took it a step further, able to consume the living force that every living being was composed of.

This power was a threat to Nefaron.​

He wanted it for himself.​

But that meant finding one. The issue was that the force eaters had been hunted since the days of the Republic's founding, reduced to a few hundred thousand in a galaxy of trillions.

A task for his Apprentice, it seems.

Which is why they strode the pockmarked surface of Stennaros, going from hamlet to hamlet in search of Nefaron's prize. They had already visited three different locations to no avail, but this next one appeared the most promising, given its remoteness and seeming hostility to other nearby villages. They might resist the arrival of a pair of Dark Lords, precisely what Nefaron hoped for. Their ship had just touched down, and the pair had descended the ramp when the Corpse Lord at last addressed his Apprentice.

"Lord Vanitas, I can sense your frustration. Make your concerns known."​

 

[Veradun Sharr]

Stennaros
Tag: Darth Nefaron ​

Veradun had been silent the entire journey to Stennaros, a shadow amidst the shadows, as he and his wicked Master embarked on yet another mission the Dark Lord felt was paramount to his schemes and plans. He didn’t attempt to engage his Master in conversation, content to simply sit as still as a statue and either ponder whatever new Force skill he’d taken up learning, where and who his next meal would be, and of course - how he would one day usurp his Master and rip everything away from him for himself.

He knew that Nefaron knew of that desire that lurked within his black heart. Every Sith Apprentice - well, almost every one of them - had that desire too. To kill and overcome the Master and take their place. For most it was out of a sense of accomplishment or vanity or whatever, but for Veradun - he liked to believe that his desire to murder his Master was born not from vanity but from necessity.

Evil like the Corpse Lord should not be allowed to exist.

And yet…he did. And Veradun Sharr - Darth Vanitas - served him. Did that make Veradun evil too?

That stray thought pulled a rare but very slight curve from his lips. He did not deny his wickedness, and he never would. He was a Sangnir - one who consumed the life essence of another to extend his own life beyond what was natural. His victims likely thought him evil and cruel as he ripped their life from them.

He was also a Darth, a Sith “Lord”. Or Dark Lord, according to his Master. That by itself made him evil.

His thoughts shifted elsewhere, always turning - though not as frantically anymore. Giving up one’s mortality for perpetual life had a way of bringing everything into focus and clarity. He had, quite literally, thousands of years before him (should he live that long). He could afford to slow down these days. In action, in words, in thought, and decisions.

He knew it irritated the Corpse Lord to no end - but he didn’t give a chit about that. Nefaron was always pissed off about something and taking it out on Veradun. Those beatings or other torturings had only gotten worse too, when he discovered his Apprentice could heal faster now. Bruises and broken bones mended within minutes - provided Veradun fed well enough to support such rapid healing.

Upon arrival to the unfortunate planet, Darth Nefaron wasted no time in dragging his Apprentice along as they paid a visit to several hamlets in search of what Nefaron was seeking after.

Of course, he used Veradun as his Fist, so to speak. But even with the threat of immediate harm or even death hanging over the inhabitants’ heads, the knowledge that the Corpse Lord sought after - any useful information, actually - was hard to come by.

The last hamlet the Sith duo came upon, however, promised to perhaps be different. It was remote, and the individuals within appeared to be more hostile than the others - especially towards other villages.

"Lord Vanitas, I can sense your frustration. Make your concerns known." Darth Nefaron said, his voice sounding like gravel moving through mechanical gears - rather aggravating on the Sangnir’s heightened sense of hearing.

How about ‘you’re not dead yet’ - that is a frustration of mine… Veradun thought to himself, though he didn’t dare voice that aloud. Truth be told, he was responsible for that frustration. Nefaron still had something to offer the Sangnir, and so the Corpse Lord would be allowed to live a little longer.

But right now, his Master had asked him a question, and he knew better than to make the Dark Lord wait longer than necessary for a response.

He was likely to still be “punished” for it.

Pale eyes that held an almost otherworldly shine to them, turned in the direction of the “blind” Sith Lord beside him.

“Even with tormenting these lovely hamlet denizens - we have come no closer to whatever it is you are seeking here, Master.” the tall and pale Sangnir said, his voice rich and velvety - unlike his Master’s. “What makes you think this will be any different?” ​

 

[Darth Morbus]

-̵̥̮͔̹̟͕́͜-̸̨̟̺͚̲̪͍͛͗̈́̕̚-̸̣͆̏́͂̄̑̈́-̷̺̠̝̼̥͔͍̦̇͠-̵̡̣̗͕̯͊͝-̶̡̢͚̙̱̯̘̑̏̾-̷̖̯̜̩̲̮̪͛̊͂̔̀̃͝-̴͎̣̠̖̝̭͆͋͆̀-̷̡̘̗̹̊͌̃̽̍̋͑̈͜-̷̝͕̪̎̑͜-̵̨͍̟̥̼̏͗͝-̶̢̩̪̱̪̋̄̂̚-̷̧̡̺̖̬̎̑̉-̶̡̢̻̞̫̹͓͎͉͗̒́̀́͝-̸̢̩̟̫̦̈͐͋͛-̶̨̹͖̠̠͕͉̄̒͐͝-̶̻̮̤̭̹͖̇͊̏̌́̓̔́̀-̷̜͓͈̈́̇͆̒͑̒͊̕͝-̷̛̛̩̫̮͔̥̱͚̗̀̍̎́͊̓͝-̴̧̨̛̪̩͕̟́͆̌͋͝-̴̜̹̪̱͚͖̄́̕͘-̷̡͈͓̫̱̟̜͛̉̃̈́͝-̵̢̢̛̲̮̮͚̠̍̊͛̒͠-̶̥̂̊-̸̣͆̏́͂̄̑̈́-̷̺̠̝̼̥͔͍̦̇͠-̵̡̣̗͕̯͊͝-̶̡̢͚̙̱̯̘̑̏̾-̷̖̯̜̩̲̮̪͛̊͂̔̀̃͝-̴͎̣̠̖̝̭͆͋͆̀-̷̡̘̗̹̊͌̃̽̍̋͑̈͜-̷̝͕̪̎̑͜-̵̨͍̟̥̼̏͗͝-̶̢̩̪̱̪̋̄̂̚-̶͈̬̳͉͛̓̎̀̕-̶̛͔͊͋̏̓̌͝͝-̶̻͖͗̈́̉̃-̸̢̨͇̥̈̽-̷̢̤̘͎̺̠̟̖̑̈̍̍̅͜͝-̵̡̨̞̻͉̭̗̔̇̀͊̌͆̚͠-̷̡̨̗̪̗̮̮͝-̸̢̯͓͚̟͈͒̊-̸̦̰̘͚͒̌́͂̕-̵̢̗̣̥̜̩͖͖͐̃́̌͋͗̇͝-̵͎̫̪͐̅̆̒̍͋̍͊͘-̶̘̞̞͈̞̯̈̀͑͛͛͑̌͘̚-̵͍̞̱̄͐̓̆́̀͗͝-̵̠̳̺̺̯͐͆̏̎͌͘-̷̨̢̥̝̜͔͛͊̔̅̂͘-̵̬̪̖͉́͌̋͂͛-̷̫̻̉̿̊̾̿̓͛̕-̸̨̫̮̯̓̾͋̍-̴̤͂͆̐́̃̊-̷̡͎̮̥̙̱̞̻̪͆-̴̢̡͉̪̙͇̩̖̀̏̃̔̈́͝-̵̫̽͋̾̉̿̉̔̊-̸̻̂̓́̀̈-̴̡̞͙͒͊̾̕̚͝-̷̛̈́̉̍́͒͆̎̃ͅ-̶͎̩͕̰̀͑̑-̶̤͇͎̮͙̩̞͕̀͜-̴͍̂͗͗͌̍͠-̶͚͖̯̞̤͕̱̩̔̓̉͂̑-̶̬̮̮̗̗̩̮̪̜̈́̈́-̵̢͕̫͈̳̙͕́̂̏̋͒̃͑̕͝-̶̛̣̭͎́̈́̐̉̈͘͘-̷͚̤͔̪͎́̇̊͂̈̍̅-̵̨̠̟̮̠͕͈̋̆̇̂̾ͅ-̵̮̪͔̗̻̰̲͗͛̊͑́͘-̵̧͚̝͔̠̳̆̋͗͊͗̔͛͐-̶̢̝̻̰̖̫̄͑̄͝-̶̼͉͈͇͎͈̜̈-̷̨̞̫̹͔̰̟̯̾̂́̑̉̽̅-̸̡̛̺͙̙̀̅̊͐͑̏͆̚-̶̨̨̳̰̤̠́̏͛̏̇͘-̷̮̅͋̅̚͝-̶̞̍̉̓̄̂̀͊͠͝-̶̳̹̽͗͋̾̎́̌̈́͘-̸̢͕̳̪̤̑̏-̶̗͍̫̓͌͘̚̕͝͠͝-̸̘̖̜̞͚̖̓̈́̔̿̚͜-̷̢̢̢̧̞̙̗̳̩̒̌-̴̟͙̰̖̠͕̘̲̐̔̕-̵̨̮̊̊-̴͙̰̟̣̹̓-̵̨̨͎̰͑̓̅̌̒̽͑̋̒ͅ-̵͍̞̱̄͐̓̆́̀͗͝-̵̠̳̺̺̯͐͆̏̎͌͘-̷̨̢̥̝̜͔͛͊̔̅̂͘-̵̬̪̖͉́͌̋͂͛-̷̫̻̉̿̊̾̿̓͛̕-̸̨̫̮̯̓̾͋̍-̴̤͂͆̐́̃̊-̷̡͎̮̥̙̱̞̻̪͆-̴̢̡͉̪̙͇̩̖̀̏̃̔̈́͝-̵̫̽͋̾̉̿̉̔̊-̸̻̂̓́̀̈-̴̡̞͙͒͊̾̕̚͝-̷̛̈́̉̍́͒͆̎̃ͅ-̶͎̩͕̰̀͑̑-̶̤͇͎̮͙̩̞͕̀͜-̴͍̂͗͗͌̍͠-̶͚͖̯̞̤͕̱̩̔̓̉͂̑-̶̬̮̮̗̗̩̮̪̜̈́̈́-̵̢͕̫͈̳̙͕́̂̏̋͒̃͑̕͝-̸̳͎͕̪̝̩̞̙́̾͌̎̊͐̒̌̉-̶̧͇̣̟̫̜̒̓͌-̵̢̖̠͓̯͉͙͛̈͜-̴̡̡̱̰̻̬̥̎͆̊̐͒̈́̈́͜-̶̨̓̂̈́̂̍-̶̛̥̓̔̊͛͘​

PIRATE KING BASE, COPPERLINE / REMOVE THE PIRATE KING​

Copperline had given them plenty of places to hide.

The farms thinned quickly once the settlements were left behind, giving way to rough country where old tracks disappeared between ridges and broken ground. Pirate nests had been scattered through it for years, some little more than huts and landing clearings, others buried into hillsides or hidden beneath camouflage netting. The methods taken to keep such places hidden were primitive but effective, requiring that the Sith who sought the leader of the pirate bands put in some effort.

Disgusting.

As it was, Darth Morbus and Naamino Zuukamano had joined together for the task. The ancient Twi'lek didn't know the boy from blue milk, but he seemed eager enough and energetic enough to get the job done. There was nothing quite like that Apprentice gumption on a mission. It almost made Morbus feel in his early one-hundreds again. Still, the decree had been passed down from the Sith'ari, someone whom Morbus knew little about, other than the supposed claim to that title, and he was to work alongside a member of the Sith Covenant.

Finding the Pirate King had taken them through several of the outlying nests first. Some were abandoned before the Sith reached them. Others had been considerably less fortunate.

The pirates they captured knew pieces rather than the whole. A supply route from one. The approximate direction of regular speeder traffic from another. Morbus had questioned several personally, although keeping them focused had proved irritating when the voices kept suggesting questions of their own. Eventually, seized datapads and navigation records began supporting what the surviving pirates had told them. Supplies were regularly disappearing into a broad stretch of badlands where there were no settlements, registered landing fields or mines that should have required them.

Several prisoners had also mentioned the ravines.

Not willingly.

That had narrowed things considerably. Once the pair reached the area, they found enough physical evidence to know the trail had not gone cold. Old repulsor scoring marked patches of exposed stone. Tracks appeared and vanished beneath loose gravel where someone had tried to brush them away. A concealed sensor mast had been sunk low between two ridges, positioned to watch one of the easier approaches through the broken terrain.

Someone was hiding something out here.

The pair had split more recently. The young Zabrak had gone one way. Morbus had gone another, cane knocking against stone while the voices argued about which direction was correct. They had decided that searching for the infamous Pirate King's personal base separately would cover more ground, especially given the complexity of the ravine system they had found.

Morbus' knees hurt from the effort. He was vexed.

Still, it seemed the older, much older, Sith Lord had picked the correct direction. In short order, Morbus stood atop a rocky overlook, hunched on the edge, one hand wrapped around the crooked head of his twisted cane. He peered downward, squinting, his bright yellow-orange eyes taking in the scene below.

"Yes, yes," Morbus muttered, smiling a pointy-toothed grin. "This is it. We've found it."

A section of the ravine wall had been reinforced and disguised behind stone-coloured plating. Farther along, another opening sat beneath a natural overhang, wide enough for speeders and supply haulers. Antennae barely cleared the rock above it, and armed figures moved between positions cut into the cliffs.

Deeper inside, the ravine widened enough to reveal buildings, generators and landing space. More activity than any of the outlying nests had shown.

"They look very prepared."

His voice carried only a little way before the wind stole it.

Something answered anyway.

Morbus turned his head toward the empty ground beside him.

"Yes, I know."

He listened for a moment.

"No. We are waiting."

Another pause.

"Because I said so." The irritation held for several seconds before dissolving into a rasping chuckle. "We wait for the child. No more arguments."

Morbus had already reached outward through the Force and given Naamino enough to recognise the summons. Morbus had found something worth returning for. The young lad seemed strong and quick, so the Sith Lord had little reason to expect to wait long. Run along, little one, run run run.

Now he waited.

He shifted closer to the edge and peered down again. One of the guards below walked behind a barricade and vanished from sight.

Morbus counted quietly beneath his breath.

"One... two... three..."

The guard appeared again.

"Four."

He smiled.

"Terrible hiding place."

A fit of coughing bent him forward. Morbus caught himself against the cane, hacked into his sleeve, then spat something dark onto the stone beside his boot before straightening again.

The Pirate King was somewhere inside.

Probably.

What waited beyond the visible entrances, how many pirates remained, and whether their king intended to run once the Sith arrived could wait until Naamino returned.

Morbus settled back onto his heels.

"Naamino will be here soon."

His eyes narrowed.

"No, no, no. You may not eat him."

Morbus paused, then frowned.

"...he is much too bony anyway."

His attention drifted back toward the ravine, grin returning as the guards continued their patrols below.

"The pirates might be better."

-̵̳̀-̵̪͑-̷̺͌-̶͕͑-̸̧͌-̸̡̅-̶͇̈-̸̯̑-̵͔̂-̵͈̽-̴͚̐-̸͓́-̸͔͆-̴̻͊-̵̖́-̴͎̈-̶͈́-̶̖̀-̵̗̃-̸̝̽-̸̦̄-̵̠̈-̴͔̃-̸̫́-̷̢̇-̸͖͑-̵̖̈-̸̤͆-̶̝̃-̷̩́-̴̜̂-̶̙͗-̸͐͜-̵̤́-̴͇͝-̶͔̕-̷̯̽-̴͎̐-̷̥̀-̴͎̈-̶͈́-̶̖̀-̸͐͜-̵̤́-̴͇͝-̶͔̕-̷̯̽-̴͎̐-̷̥̀-̵̗̃-̸̝̽-̸̦̄-̵̠̈-̴͔̃-̸̫́-̷̢̇-̸͖͑-̵̖̈-̸̤͆-̶̝̃-̷͚͊-̴̭̓-̷̬̈-̶̯͛-̷̹́-̸̦͋-̴̩̌


Naamino Zuukamano​

 

[Naamino Zuukamano]

COPPERLINE

Gear: Mask | Weal & Woe | Zhaboka | Chest Plate | Belt of Strength
Tag: Darth Morbus​

Contrary to his strange new superior officer, Naamino was personally familiar with the Sith'ari. His puzzlement at her meteoric rise was nothing compared to the fervor surrounding more change on the horizon. The past few weeks had been a blur and the zabrak hardly knew how to feel about news of the Order and Covenant becoming one. He hadn't yet wrapped his thick head around the changes coming soon and fast.

Rather than allow the spiral of thoughts to swallow him, Naami suppressed his uncertainty and buried himself in work. This most recent mission handed down by Mercy herself was just another in a long line of objectives he must see through if he wished to reclaim a position of command.

With cold efficiency, the zabrak dispatched any his companion did not as they worked their way toward the target. By the time they'd reached the ravine and system of winding paths, Naamino was on edge both because the Lord at his side and their elusive quarry. It was some small relief when their paths split for s time and the apprentice could focus merely signs of their prey.

His watchfulness and lightning quick reactions saved him when a cornered ruffian, who hadn't cleared the area when his fellows had, fired a blaster at Naamino who dodged with mere inches of clearance. The zabrak reached out on instinct and crushed the foolish pirate before so much as a scream could leave his broken body.

Controlling his breathing as racing hearts pounded in his chest, Naami pressed on to rendezvous with Darth Morbus. He had his zhaboka out at that point, feeling a bit less paranoid at the side of the strange twi'lek with its reassuring weight in his hand. The younger man peered over the edge as well to take a good look at the barricade.

"I can make the jump," Naami reported in that calm matter of fact tone he had.

"And unless the barricade is enforced with something wicked strong, I can Force blast a hole in it. Roger?"

 

[Darth Morbus]

-̵̥̮͔̹̟͕́͜-̸̨̟̺͚̲̪͍͛͗̈́̕̚-̸̣͆̏́͂̄̑̈́-̷̺̠̝̼̥͔͍̦̇͠-̵̡̣̗͕̯͊͝-̶̡̢͚̙̱̯̘̑̏̾-̷̖̯̜̩̲̮̪͛̊͂̔̀̃͝-̴͎̣̠̖̝̭͆͋͆̀-̷̡̘̗̹̊͌̃̽̍̋͑̈͜-̷̝͕̪̎̑͜-̵̨͍̟̥̼̏͗͝-̶̢̩̪̱̪̋̄̂̚-̷̧̡̺̖̬̎̑̉-̶̡̢̻̞̫̹͓͎͉͗̒́̀́͝-̸̢̩̟̫̦̈͐͋͛-̶̨̹͖̠̠͕͉̄̒͐͝-̶̻̮̤̭̹͖̇͊̏̌́̓̔́̀-̷̜͓͈̈́̇͆̒͑̒͊̕͝-̷̛̛̩̫̮͔̥̱͚̗̀̍̎́͊̓͝-̴̧̨̛̪̩͕̟́͆̌͋͝-̴̜̹̪̱͚͖̄́̕͘-̷̡͈͓̫̱̟̜͛̉̃̈́͝-̵̢̢̛̲̮̮͚̠̍̊͛̒͠-̶̥̂̊-̸̣͆̏́͂̄̑̈́-̷̺̠̝̼̥͔͍̦̇͠-̵̡̣̗͕̯͊͝-̶̡̢͚̙̱̯̘̑̏̾-̷̖̯̜̩̲̮̪͛̊͂̔̀̃͝-̴͎̣̠̖̝̭͆͋͆̀-̷̡̘̗̹̊͌̃̽̍̋͑̈͜-̷̝͕̪̎̑͜-̵̨͍̟̥̼̏͗͝-̶̢̩̪̱̪̋̄̂̚-̶͈̬̳͉͛̓̎̀̕-̶̛͔͊͋̏̓̌͝͝-̶̻͖͗̈́̉̃-̸̢̨͇̥̈̽-̷̢̤̘͎̺̠̟̖̑̈̍̍̅͜͝-̵̡̨̞̻͉̭̗̔̇̀͊̌͆̚͠-̷̡̨̗̪̗̮̮͝-̸̢̯͓͚̟͈͒̊-̸̦̰̘͚͒̌́͂̕-̵̢̗̣̥̜̩͖͖͐̃́̌͋͗̇͝-̵͎̫̪͐̅̆̒̍͋̍͊͘-̶̘̞̞͈̞̯̈̀͑͛͛͑̌͘̚-̵͍̞̱̄͐̓̆́̀͗͝-̵̠̳̺̺̯͐͆̏̎͌͘-̷̨̢̥̝̜͔͛͊̔̅̂͘-̵̬̪̖͉́͌̋͂͛-̷̫̻̉̿̊̾̿̓͛̕-̸̨̫̮̯̓̾͋̍-̴̤͂͆̐́̃̊-̷̡͎̮̥̙̱̞̻̪͆-̴̢̡͉̪̙͇̩̖̀̏̃̔̈́͝-̵̫̽͋̾̉̿̉̔̊-̸̻̂̓́̀̈-̴̡̞͙͒͊̾̕̚͝-̷̛̈́̉̍́͒͆̎̃ͅ-̶͎̩͕̰̀͑̑-̶̤͇͎̮͙̩̞͕̀͜-̴͍̂͗͗͌̍͠-̶͚͖̯̞̤͕̱̩̔̓̉͂̑-̶̬̮̮̗̗̩̮̪̜̈́̈́-̵̢͕̫͈̳̙͕́̂̏̋͒̃͑̕͝-̶̛̣̭͎́̈́̐̉̈͘͘-̷͚̤͔̪͎́̇̊͂̈̍̅-̵̨̠̟̮̠͕͈̋̆̇̂̾ͅ-̵̮̪͔̗̻̰̲͗͛̊͑́͘-̵̧͚̝͔̠̳̆̋͗͊͗̔͛͐-̶̢̝̻̰̖̫̄͑̄͝-̶̼͉͈͇͎͈̜̈-̷̨̞̫̹͔̰̟̯̾̂́̑̉̽̅-̸̡̛̺͙̙̀̅̊͐͑̏͆̚-̶̨̨̳̰̤̠́̏͛̏̇͘-̷̮̅͋̅̚͝-̶̞̍̉̓̄̂̀͊͠͝-̶̳̹̽͗͋̾̎́̌̈́͘-̸̢͕̳̪̤̑̏-̶̗͍̫̓͌͘̚̕͝͠͝-̸̘̖̜̞͚̖̓̈́̔̿̚͜-̷̢̢̢̧̞̙̗̳̩̒̌-̴̟͙̰̖̠͕̘̲̐̔̕-̵̨̮̊̊-̴͙̰̟̣̹̓-̵̨̨͎̰͑̓̅̌̒̽͑̋̒ͅ-̵͍̞̱̄͐̓̆́̀͗͝-̵̠̳̺̺̯͐͆̏̎͌͘-̷̨̢̥̝̜͔͛͊̔̅̂͘-̵̬̪̖͉́͌̋͂͛-̷̫̻̉̿̊̾̿̓͛̕-̸̨̫̮̯̓̾͋̍-̴̤͂͆̐́̃̊-̷̡͎̮̥̙̱̞̻̪͆-̴̢̡͉̪̙͇̩̖̀̏̃̔̈́͝-̵̫̽͋̾̉̿̉̔̊-̸̻̂̓́̀̈-̴̡̞͙͒͊̾̕̚͝-̷̛̈́̉̍́͒͆̎̃ͅ-̶͎̩͕̰̀͑̑-̶̤͇͎̮͙̩̞͕̀͜-̴͍̂͗͗͌̍͠-̶͚͖̯̞̤͕̱̩̔̓̉͂̑-̶̬̮̮̗̗̩̮̪̜̈́̈́-̵̢͕̫͈̳̙͕́̂̏̋͒̃͑̕͝-̸̳͎͕̪̝̩̞̙́̾͌̎̊͐̒̌̉-̶̧͇̣̟̫̜̒̓͌-̵̢̖̠͓̯͉͙͛̈͜-̴̡̡̱̰̻̬̥̎͆̊̐͒̈́̈́͜-̶̨̓̂̈́̂̍-̶̛̥̓̔̊͛͘​

PIRATE KING BASE, COPPERLINE / REMOVE THE PIRATE KING​

Morbus heard Naamino approaching before the young Zabrak appeared at the overlook, but did not turn immediately. His attention remained on the barricade below, following the same guard he had been counting before as the pirate disappeared behind cover. He licked the tips of his pointed teeth in anticipation.

One.

Two.

Naamino joined him at the edge, zhaboka already in hand, and looked down at the concealed base.

Three.

The guard returned.

Four.

Morbus smiled and finally looked toward his companion. Naamino's assessment was simple enough. The boy could make the jump and believed he could tear open the barricade once he was down there. Morbus considered the drop, then glanced toward his own knees, a displeased noise caught somewhere in his throat.

"You can certainly jump, yes," Morbus said with a smile. "But it's Morbus. Its okay, we're still new acquaintances."

Leaning farther over the edge, he pointed his cane toward the reinforced entrance below.

"Break that." The tip shifted toward the positions cut into the ravine walls. "They will object."

Morbus's grin widened.

"And I will object to their objection."

Something whispered near his ear, souring his expression almost immediately.

"What? No. We are not throwing the child at the door."

He listened, brow tightening.

"Because he provided a plan."

Another murmur followed.

"Yes, I am surprised too... but pleasantly."

A rasping chuckle escaped him as he straightened again.

They had spent long enough working through camps, prisoners and ravines to reach this place. The Pirate King already knew somebody was dismantling his nests, and Morbus saw little value in pretending otherwise now. He reached beneath his robes and drew the twisted hilt of his lightsaber, his attention returning to the barricade just as the same guard disappeared behind it again.

Morbus waited through the familiar interval.

When the pirate reappeared, his free hand snapped toward him and the Force tore the man over the barricade. His weapon spun loose as he dropped from sight. Morbus's laughter broke across the overlook while the other defenders below began moving between their positions.

"There. Now they know we're here."

His corrupted lightsaber ignited with a bright red blade as Morbus turned toward Naamino, grin widening again.

"Go on, then."

The Sith Lord cackled.

"Make a hole!"

-̵̳̀-̵̪͑-̷̺͌-̶͕͑-̸̧͌-̸̡̅-̶͇̈-̸̯̑-̵͔̂-̵͈̽-̴͚̐-̸͓́-̸͔͆-̴̻͊-̵̖́-̴͎̈-̶͈́-̶̖̀-̵̗̃-̸̝̽-̸̦̄-̵̠̈-̴͔̃-̸̫́-̷̢̇-̸͖͑-̵̖̈-̸̤͆-̶̝̃-̷̩́-̴̜̂-̶̙͗-̸͐͜-̵̤́-̴͇͝-̶͔̕-̷̯̽-̴͎̐-̷̥̀-̴͎̈-̶͈́-̶̖̀-̸͐͜-̵̤́-̴͇͝-̶͔̕-̷̯̽-̴͎̐-̷̥̀-̵̗̃-̸̝̽-̸̦̄-̵̠̈-̴͔̃-̸̫́-̷̢̇-̸͖͑-̵̖̈-̸̤͆-̶̝̃-̷͚͊-̴̭̓-̷̬̈-̶̯͛-̷̹́-̸̦͋-̴̩̌


Naamino Zuukamano​