What Is Owed

[Cedric Dorn]

[member="Anja Aj'Rou"]

The abyss.

It was where power came from. That deep black heart that sat within humanity and beyond, that funnel of emotion, that well of hatred and agony, the thing that all true strength was tied to. From it seeped a lake, a lake of unimaginable onslaught. It was spread by those who would do evil, by those who would slaughter and murder, by those who would destroy and raze entire worlds.

It was spread by people like Cedric Dorn.

He walked without effort, despite his red and peeling skin, despite his decrepit body and the unabashed agony that it put him in. Every time his boot landed it was like the sound of thunder, every time his cloak snapped in the wind it was like a leviathans roar. He moved quickly, his steps taking him up the grand stairway to the palace on Bastion.

Bright yellow eyes watched as guards approached him, a lip less scowl passing over his face as they raised their weapons. A single palm came up, a wave of his hand and the men found themselves thrown into the air, clutching their throats.

The Sith Lord stalked forward, ignoring the men as they choked upon their own blood.

Another wave of his hand and the gates parted before him, spreading themselves wide to reveal another gaggle of guards, this one headed by a man in odd armor. Cedric watched them, each with their rifle raised to his chest. His face contorted for a second, a mixture of rage and annoyance. His body language told of a debate, whether to kill, or speak.

Eventually sense took hold of him, stripping away the dark thoughts that had consumed him for but a moment. “I would speak with your Host Lord.”

His voice was gravel scraping against the road, worn and tired vocal cords barely functioning.

“Now.” The guards did as they were told.

 

[Boethiah]

Ruling worlds was no easy task, just Bastion alone was a lot to think on for the Host Lord who delegated its day-to-day affairs to a local magistrate.

Anja sat on a cushion with her legs crossed, left to her own affairs in a modest chamber,steam rising out of a cup brought to her lips as she took a sip. Footsteps echoed loudly in rapid succession and drew closer to her, the exquisite doors flew open with a panting servant falling to his knees. "Your worship... A man is here to see you, he --" before the servant could even finish she silenced him with the flick of her wrist, his tongue fell flat. The woman's gaze followed the orange sun as it set slowly.

"I know," she breathed the words, "can you not feel it?" Inquiring on the servant.

His head raised, two fearful eyes trying to hide what his heart felt. "Feel what?" His voice crackled from trying to swallow and speak at the same time.

The witch set the cup down.

"Power." A pause, "bring him here."

[member="Cedric Dorn"]

 

[Cedric Dorn]

The guards etched away from him. He walked within the center of the hallway, the men escorting him trying their hardest to stick to the wall. Cedric didn't care of them, he walked as though they were a guard of honor, not men that technically held him prisoner. For the most part, they seemed to leave him alone.

One had barked an order at first, had tried to take command, he had found it difficult to speak once his tongue had found its way inside of his throat.

His face turned again, that slight twitching of what muscle remained upon his bone. It was a sign of displeasure, though mostly hidden by the rebreather that had been forced into his skin. The Darkside welled around him as he walked, his breaths pure agony as he observed the palace around him. It was lavish to be certain, though no more than he had expected.

“This way, My Lord.”

A manservant appeared, one who bowed deeply. For a few seconds Cedric simply watched him, then looked to the guards. He nodded his head and stepped forward, wandering down the hall after the man who lead him to a strange set of doors.

They stood ajar.

Cedric walked into the room, finding the woman, who he assumed to be the Host Lord, sitting on a cushion sipping tea. His face twitched again, his eyes staring down at the diminutive girl.

 

[Boethiah]

Anja had that ability, to come as a surprise to all that laid eyes on her. She was pale-skinned, slender-built, and her clouded eyes were reminiscent to a predatory stare--an Umbaran to those who knew the species. Aligned neatly in a circle were pillows similar to the one she sat on, the spartan room having little to offer in terms of furnishing unlike the rest of the palace.

She wasn't dressed in any formal wear or clothing that matched her place on this world. Her feet were bare, her body covered by the simplest of robes with her ceremonial armour stacked neatly behind her for when she'd wander the halls in her capacity as Host Lord. The level of comfort conveyed was that of a woman who was meeting with someone she'd met many times before. Whoever stood before her she knew nothing of but the fact they're on Bastion and managed to get this far alive was too much for her curious disposition to pass up.

The silence broke with small words, "Sit if you'd like." Her hand gestured to a cushion.

Whether or not he took the seat was up to him, her eyes scrutinized all that they saw, trying to pry their way into the woven shadows that make up the man's past. She couldn't read minds but there was always something about someone's force signature that allowed you to get a sense of who the person really was behind facades and diplomatic ruses.

[member="Cedric Dorn"]

 

[Cedric Dorn]

[member="Anja Aj'Rou"]

He stood in silence.

It was an oddity for his family. The Dorns liked to talk. His mother, Kiber, those within their ancient past. Though of course not his sister, She had never been much of a conversationalist from what he understood. That slight bit of humor stretched his face in a different way, though his odd hard set eyes continued to stare at the woman.

“No.” Again, that grating, gravel tone. “I come here for one reason and one reason alone.”

If this woman knew him, his statement would have been obvious. If she knew his name, his past, his mother, she would already know why he was here. Of course he didn't expect her to be clairvoyant, nor did he expect her to understand, or even fully grasp what he could have wanted. None of that mattered of course, he would get to his point eventually.

Cedric took another step forward.

There was no threat to his move, or at least as little threat as the massive Sith Lord could offer. His hulking form towered over the Host Lord, bright yellow eyes looking down at her as if he was expecting something.

 

[Boethiah]

She did not stand, her eyes climbed him until they met the oddity that could technically be referred to as his face, the only clear markings were the eyes that were no less unsettling than her own.

"I always found that it's the obvious ones who die far sooner than they intended on." She brokered their little talk into a new direction, the riddles of the Host Lord--her lack of clarity--was not a charming trait for most, it had a tendency to annoy those who'd prefer straight-talk but she did get to the point in her own way too. If what he wanted required some deep explanation then she really didn't care for it; yet something about him suggested that wasn't going to be the case.

Taking the tea back to her lips she sipped the warm liquid once more, "What reason?" She asked.

[member="Cedric Dorn"]

 

[Cedric Dorn]

[member="Anja Aj'Rou"]

Riddles.

Cedric detested riddles.

They were annoyingly complex, unnecessary, and completely without worth. His mother had enjoyed riddles to a degree, and within his training and the use of her holocron he had heard many. His face twitched again, that odd scowling feature, as he remembered some of the riddles that had been told to him.

Their lessons had always included patience.

Yet it was that patience that had lead him here, that had brought him the opportunity he was now presented with. The Primeval did not own Thule, they did not command it, but they were poised to. Cedric had seen that, watched the galaxy unfold in this manner, he knew that this was what his mother had spoken of.

This was what he had been waiting for.

“Thule.” It was a word that seemed to resound within the room, a call. There was an echo to his voice. A female tone, a male one, a thousand different voices that spoke with him. It was as if every Dorn had suddenly been summoned into the room and they had all cried in unison for their world. The Sith Lord stared down at the woman, his face still twitching.

 

[Boethiah]

She had never heard of the world before, not once, in fact she knew very little of this galaxy to begin with.

It was clear to her though that what he was looking for was quantifiable in some way... An item of sorts? No, she did not sense that in his thousand-voiced echo. Whoever the Host Lord was dealing with she knew all too well that they were someone who had studied the forces and magicks just as she did.

"Thule?" She asked inquisitively.

She placed the cup back down before rising to her feet, no longer sitting but standing toe-to-toe with the man. Of course naturally speaking she was still physically shorter than he was. "Tell me more," her focus and composure had changed entirely. She was genuinely interested in what this man thought and only because of how he responded, she felt in his voice a motive driven by something beyond her current understanding. Still she was unaware that this stranger was a relative of her wayward apprentice.

[member="Cedric Dorn"]

 

[Cedric Dorn]

[member="Anja Aj'Rou"]

“It is a world on the cusp of your territory.” Those voices rang out again, almost impressive, a sensation of pins and needles forming within the ears of anyone listening. “It is my world.”

That was the best way to describe it, the only way to describe it. Thule had belonged to his mother, it had belonged to the Dorns before it had been taken.

Cedric had always intended on taking it back, had always intended on reclamation. He had grown up there, within its palaces, upon its flames. It was his home, it was his. No man, no woman, no government would deny him what was rightfully his, what belonged to him. There was no arguing that point, no trying to make him concede it.

Those that would, quickly found their end.

“I would reclaim it.” That same echo spoke with him again, passion wrought of strength, of power, of eons of family standing behind him.

 

[Boethiah]

Now all the whispers that stirred in the air had become clear to her. He was looking to reclaim what was lost... No, taken; yes she could sense that it was taken but by whom? The Mandalorians perhaps? She was almost ignorant to the politics of yesteryear if not the concept of it all together. The Host Lord did not play those games but she wouldn't impede on those who wished to do so as long as they didn't bother her and her goals. Reclamation as a goal was something they had in common, however.

"And you want me to use my fleets to help you reclaim what you've failed to keep with your own strength?" She had no intentions of provoking him, but it was a question that begged asking... If it was he who lost the world in the first place then why would she risk resources on an effort to reclaim what may very well be lost just the same when the time came? Of course if it wasn't him, but someone else, or just poor circumstances in this chaotic galaxy she'd be more understanding.

She was already wondering what he'd offer in return.

[member="Cedric Dorn"]

 

[Cedric Dorn]

[member="Anja Aj'Rou"]

His hand twisted into a fist.

An overwhelming urge had struck him in the second she had spoken, would that would have seen him grab her by the throat and end her life with a simple twist his wrist. He would have seen the life leave her with the snapping of her neck. It would have been sweet, to see the agony of living leave her as she strained against the grasp of his palm.

Yet within the abyss of rage, he managed to find calm. Cedric knew what he wanted, he knew what would have to be done in order to get it. His mothers lessons were not so soon forgotten, and although he wanted to end this woman for daring to question him, he knew that doing such a thing would likely lead to the loss of what he so badly wanted.

“I did not fail.” That same voice resounded, this time dampened by the loss of a voice. “It was taken by someone who will pay in due time. Someone who has already paid, but must be made to pay more.”

As cryptic as any riddle that Karin Dorn could have thought of, but it wouldn't do to tell all of his secrets. This woman already knew what he wanted, she didn't have to know everything. His face twitched slightly, his fingers uncurling as the seething rage within himself once again evened out.

 

[Boethiah]

And so he spoke... That he did not fail, that what was lost had been taken and vengeance come to them in due time. A tale of vengeance is one she's seen many times before and the people behind the tales were always the same in her eyes. Brash, hotheaded, and unruly.

So her own logic was telling her to refuse him but something inside her overruled that sense of logic. "I'll help you... Of course, that's assuming you have something to bargain with." It'd be silly of him to stand so tall yet remain with nothing to offer at all.

She stood in place, quietly wondering on his motives and what secrets he's hiding from her. Anja was not a dealer in secrets, she kept plenty of her own so she couldn't criticize that in him and after all she was an Umbaran so people around her had a tendency to suspect deception in her words and actions. In some ways they'd be correct, she almost always spoke in half-truths but rarely if ever a lie. She couldn't help herself, something always drew her back to wanting a wholesome life and lies... Well they spoiled it.

[member="Cedric Dorn"]

 

[Cedric Dorn]

[member="Anja Aj'Rou"]

For a second he didn't speak.

He considered his options. Cedric knew what he had come here with, what he had to offer. Many would say he had nothing. He had no fortune, no armies, no navies, no company and no slaves to offer. Compared to other Sith Lords in the galaxy, Cedric had very little. Of course what he had an abundance of was power.

That was enough.

Power was the greatest bargaining tool of all time. The people who dealt with the One Sith knew that. They strong armed and pushed for what they wanted, and they got away with it because of their power. It was the way the galaxy worked. Cedric knew that because his mother had known it, had suffered and had made others to suffer because of it.

“You are fighting a war.” Several, if one was to look at the facts. “Give me what I ask and you shall have my assistance, in this war, and any other you may fight.”

He eyed the diminutive woman for a second, then continued. “Once I raise Thule from its ashes, you shall have my armies, my navies, all the strength that I can bear.”

 

[Boethiah]

A simple proposition to make but one that offered enough... If he was true to his words, then they'd definitely have something worthwhile out of this arrangement. Of course, it was all talk for now and the Host Lord was eager to see such a plan in action before she came to collect on his side of the bargain.

"That is a worthy proposition." She responded favourably, what he was asking for was not a simple task in itself but neither would it cost much too The Primeval in the long-run.

She still knew little of the world but just from the man himself she understood one thing; the only thing she had to. His willingness. If he was able to walk into the Palace on Bastion, risking his entire existence on the matter, just to reclaim what was lost to him then that said all she needed to know about his willingness to succeed. There were no doubts that the same willpower would extend to defending and keeping the world.

It was true she could use anyone willing to fight, "How shall we begin?"

[member="Cedric Dorn"]

 

[Cedric Dorn]

[member="Anja Aj'Rou"]

If he had lips, a pleased smile would have tucked at them.

Cedric had what he wanted, or rather, he now had an avenue to gain what he wanted. He had needed and army to conquer Thule, and now he would have one. Of course there were still a few things that needed to be done, one or two more tasks that he needed to take care of before he could reclaim Thule for himself.

“I will call upon you when the time is right.” His voice resounded once more, every voice of the past speaking with him.

It was a powerful surge of energy, strength coursing through him, his words soaring into the heavens and leaving a distinct tone within the air. It reverberated, resounded, and interestingly seemed to linger within the air even after he had finished speaking.

Cedric turned, having received everything he wanted, when suddenly he stopped.

“Oh.” That same echo clung in the air. “And I would speak to Kiber Dorn.”

 

[Boethiah]

She assumed the deal had been done and that would be all the man came for, surely the stranger had much to prepare for. So when she heard the words, that name, it came as a startle to the Host Lord who had known very little of Kiber Dorn. She did not know who he was, or what the blood in his veins meant, the lowly 'former' drug lord being name-dropped by the disfigured menace who managed to sneak his way onto Bastion was something she could never have expected.

"Kiber Dorn?" She wasn't asking him what he meant, it was a rhetorical question -- her speaking aloud. "You want to see him. Now?" The woman had to be sure that she understood correctly. It took a lot to ever throw the witch off balance in a conversation, the surprise was not a visible one but the change in speech pattern and attitude showed it quite clearly.

A second question came to mind, one she did not ask.

Who would ask for him?

[member="Cedric Dorn"] | [member="Kiber Dorn"]

 

[Cedric Dorn]

[member="Anja Aj'Rou"] [member="Kiber Dorn"]

Cedric found that he didn't like being questioned. Five years in isolation, training, barely eating, subsisting only on the Darkside of the Force. No one to speak to but the ancient shade of his mother. He didn't like being talked back to, he didn't like being asked questions. He frowned slightly, or what passed for a frown, the muscles of his face twitching beneath the rebreather.

The Sith Lord half turned back towards the Host Lord.

Again he considered the option of killing her. She was powerful in her own right, he could sense that, but ending her...it would be sweet. Would killing her grant him all of her followers? That was certainly one way to regain Thule.

No.

Too much effort.

He did not want to rule half the galaxy, nor the whole of it. He simply wanted his own world back, he wanted what was owed to him, what had been taken from him as his birthright. His face twitched again, and his bright yellow eyes settled upon the woman. “Yes.”

It was a simple answer.

 

[Boethiah]

Anja did not know what reasons he had for Kiber, and she very well could've said no but something about the way he responded made her too curious to pass up the situation... It was always curiosity with her, trying to find the reason to everything she pondered on. Someday that would end up poorly for the witch but for now it seemed beneficial to them both.

A sharp whistle escaped her lips, quickly maneuvering himself into the room was the same man who had fetched the stranger standing before her. Bowing his head, "You've summoned me, Your Worship?" A certain tone of respect in his voice. His eyes still had the same look as they had before, perhaps something about what he did to the guards forced it upon him. Regardless he did not flinch or stutter, remaining respectful in the presence of the Host Lord.

With a subtle nod, "Bring me Kiber Dorn." She commanded the servant to fetch her apprentice.

Pale eyes locked back on the grotesque stranger whilst they waited, no further words came from her lips.

[member="Cedric Dorn"] | [member="Kiber Dorn"]

 

[Kiber Dorn]

Is this how space turtles feel?

He lay upon his back, pupils dilated and staring straight up at the ceiling. As per usual, Kiber Dorn was high, rather high, very high. Or perhaps he was low? Having slightly overdone the purple pills that he had decided to sample from a less than savoury trandoshan the man was feeling rather...karked.

Head spinning he thought it was a great idea to lay down and just wait out the ride but upon hitting the mattress he realised that this wasn't the great idea he was looking for.

Having closed his eyes for a moment he could feel the sensation of sinking, as if a Kiber-shaped sink hole had appeared, beginning to slowly swallow him into the pits of chaos. No, closing his eyes was not the best course of action. All aspects of time by this point were lost, how long had he been staring at the ceiling? Who knows?

A voice roused him. Wasn't Anja, that was for sure, his nose was still in tact for starters. The voice spoke again. Probably should have been listening. Ugh. With the maximum amount of effort the man lifted his head, looking at the servant with those trademark green eyes, seemingly catching the end of the sentence with eye contact as if that was how his ears worked.

“….Worship's chamber.”

“Cool.”

Not cool.*

He lifted both of his arms out, stretched towards the servant as he felt a drop of dread before being seen in this state of being by his Master.

“Help me up, dudebro.”

Pulled off of the bed and onto his feet Kiber decided to thank the man by ruffling his hair slightly before making his way to what would no doubt be an unpleasant interaction. After all, he was supposed to be training, probably. Maybe he could reason that he was testing the limits of human equilibrium, so if they were ever incapacitated in such a way he could still function.

Dread solidified as a familiar presence began to thrum out from behind closed chamber doors. It was on the tip of his tongue, he knew it but he didn't. Seemed dark, seemed foreboding, bringing him straight back to childhood with that old resting schutta face of an aunt, but well, she was brown bread…

Then it clicked.

Cedric. My, how you've grown.

The doors opened, and instead of being presented with his considerably more handsome cousin he was granted sight of a man who had clearly mashed his face into the George'ika Fore'vod grill. Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear. Kiber opted to stay pretty close to the exit.

“H-eeeelloooooo….?”

* Also not cool was the servant having the same font colour. Not cool.

---

[member="Cedric Dorn"] [member="Anja Aj'Rou"]

 

[Cedric Dorn]

[member="Kiber Dorn"]

There he was, useless as always.

Cedric looked down at his cousin for a moment, his eyes barely having to shift to look at the slightly smaller Dorn. He frowned, or rather his face muscles twitched as though he were frowning. His hands clenched at his sides, itching to pick up his lightsaber and slice it through this welps throat.

He looked as though he hadn't slept in days, his eyes were red, his face to unkempt and his hair looked as though he had rolled out of bed.

Disgraceful.

Bright yellow eyes looked to the Host Lord, then back at his cousin, then at the walls around them. His hand clenched as his side, and suddenly the force welled within him. A massive spike of power ravished through the room, sweeping over Anja and Kiber, not affecting them but causing the servant to stumble and fall over onto the ground unconscious, the guards at the door fell similarly, a heavy clatter of boots and armor.

Next his hand reached out like a viper. In an instant the skinless palm reached out and wrapped around Kibers throat, grasping him in an instant and lifting him off the floor. With a heavy push Cedric pressed his cousin against the wall, his fingers stronger than they should be.

“Cousin.” To some it might have been a greeting, but the way Cedric twisted the word it sounded like an insult.