Post by Praenuntius on Oct 19, 2011 7:21:14 GMT -5
Sahara:
Sahara drew in a deep breath and slowly exhaled it as the indicator began to beep their impending exit from hyperspace. Her hand extended upward without even opening her eyes and she gripped the lever, drawing it back as the ship was spat forth from hyperspace. Elongated stars shrank back to just less than perfect splotches of light with a planet ahead, the cold, barren, inhospitable world of Prakith, capital of the Imperial Inquisition, and the Citadel.
The world Sahara would never forget as the immediate icy chill was washed over her, a nexus of the Darkside.
Sahara's eyes glimpsed towards Dire's glowing orbs, she still hadn't figured out what she was going to do about him, or how she'd explain, she'd be in enough trouble for destroying a vessel of the Imperial Inquisition anyway, those stealthable ships weren't cheap.
"So it begins." she told Dire before glimpsing back ahead and already piloting the vessel on a set course, already a squadron of fighters was on it's intercept course for the vessel. A few presses on the foreign console had clearance codes transmitted, and even so they would escort them all the way to the Citadel. Security was security.
Dire:
Dire had taken the entire last week to recover from his encounter with the Dark Lord of the Sith. Over that time he had tackled whatever exercises Sahara had deemed necessary. Going over the protocol and steps they would have to take once they reached the seat of the Inquisition. Breaking the silence, oversized for his chair and the straps that feebly bound him, he turned to the Inquisitor.
"I can hide my presence Master." It was a request to go ahead with that plan instead of him being in plain sight. The nearer they got to the planet, the more the cold permeated his tough, muscular physique. Leeching away the warmth of his body and replacing it with a numbing coldness. A heaviness set in about his shoulders, impressing upon him the importance of the coming confrontation. They could not run from their actions, nor could Sahara hide him any longer. They would need to face whatever punishment the Inquisition deemed necessary. Dire had no understanding of the politics at play or even their low chances of survival.
Turning back to the viewport as their escort took up their positions, he wondered, his Master wasn't someone to just lie down and take a beating. As she had shown when the Dark Lord of the Sith had attempted to break Dire's resolve.
Sahara:
Sahara shook her head, looking to Dire she reached over and placed her tiny hand over the behemoth's on the arm of the chair. Her breathing deepened a little as she tried to force a smile.
"No my apprentice. The Grand Inquisitor's mental capabilities are far too strong for that, she would see right through any deception, be it you, or myself." she told him.
Her hand drew back as she piloted the craft down into the stormy atmosphere, thick dark clouds covered the forbidden landscape, flashes of light signaled the forces of nature followed by booms so powerful it rumbled into the freighter they were in.
The area was dark, the only light came from those flashes, and ahead soon illuminated a massive spired compled, reaching towards the heavens and looking very much both a cathedral and a prison. Indeed it was both.
Soon her ship touche down in the massive walled courtyard around the base of the building, like a wheel of a bicycle.
Rain was pouring down heavily, and it was indeed what one would think of the most dreaded place in the galaxy, a place where Force users of all types found themselves imprisoned, twisted, and tortured by the agents of the Darkside in a building meant to keep them there.
Sahara rose up, glimpsing to Dire in those glowing orbs in the dim light.
"Remember as I have told you my Apprentice, while you are powerful, you are no match for my Mistress the Grand Inquisitor. And when we are unfortunate enough to find ourselves in her presence, you will kneel to her. She is not Spite Furos, she will kill you without hesitation."
Dire:
Taking it all in with that glowering stare of his, he met Sahara's gaze before turning his head away as another flash of light entered the cockpit. No deceptions. No tricks. Sahara had to be up to something. It was certain death to present themselves to the Grand Inquisitor. Remembering well her warning, that he was to kneel when told, bow his head, submit himself to every question and scrutiny. Sahara had a real idea of the servitude the hulking Zabrak had endured on Dathomir for so many years until breaking free of his bonds.
Focusing on the Citadel as its black spire became evident in the storm charged atmosphere, Dire remained silent and brooding. Taking in the architecture, the simple brute felt the weight of it impress itself upon him. The feeling of power and dominance it held, even as the fury of the sky rained down upon it. Holding steadfast, it radiated a feeling of dread. Feeling his resolve weaken under it, he cast a glance towards his Master. Why didn't she exude this kind of aura? Repelling the thoughts just as she had taught him, he let his rage and hatred consume him. He dare not touch the Force this close to the complex.
When they finally set down and Sahara rose, her Apprentice would as well. The buckles coming loose under his deft touches and soon he was thudding behind his Master. "Understood. I will kneel." Reaching out she would feel the weight of his hand as it clasped around her shoulder, giving it a light pat and a squeeze before releasing. "We survive."
Dire could still feel her presence in the back of his mind. A calm reassuring presence. Sahara just had to have something up her sleeve to deal with this mess he had gotten them into.
Sahara:
Sahara's pace was halted as Dire gripped her, squeezing, her breathing held for a moment as she tilted her head over her shoulder, looking back to his eyes as she heard those deep Zabrakian tones.
"Whatever happens Dire, I will not see your path end here. Remember all that I have told you of this place incase that choice is no longer my own. I have taught you all I know of concealment, even so, no one has ever escaped here. Of course no one was exactly like you." she told him, only then a slight genuine curl upward of her lips formed before she tugged herself away, heading out of the ship, Dire in tow unto a formation of thick black armored guardsmen, all Force users, all ready to crush them at the slightest irregularity. To this sight, hundreds of Force sensitives would pass, their last glimpse to the outside world while they were breathing.
In the center of the lined rows awaited another Inquisitor, if Dire could sense them, this one would quite easily match his Master's signature perfectly.
Sahara approached this one, an older human male, gruff looking, face worn with experience of years. He stood, clothing of black, looking very much as a cult would, Sahara calmly approached, her eyes right on this one as she paused before him.
"High Inquisitor Turell." Sahara bowed her head slightly.
"Inquisitor Delano. Your return is most unexpected, but welcome."
"Thank you High Inquisitor, the events over the last few weeks have been.. irregular. I seek a new vessel and supplies." she told him.
There was a sudden tensing of all the guards as well as the old man as Dire appeared, hands fell to lightsabers all around, only halted from being drawn by Sahara's hand as she shook her head.
"He is with me. Stand down." the guards obeyed but the old man, Sahara's superior cast a cold, suspicious eye over him before looking back to Sahara.
"I sense the Force in him, why is he not bound?"
"I wish an audience with you to discuss that High Inquisitor. He wishes to join us, but on the condition that I be the one to train him."
There was a cold, silent response from the man as he turned, motioning with his hand towards the Citadel.
"Wait for me inside."
Dire:
The weight of the world of Prakith seemed to be on Dire's shoulder. He did not slump or otherwise show the oppressive weight. Even as it bore down on him with each step, he went over the exercises in his mind. Working through the processes to unlock the barriers that would prevent the mental antagonism of the dark energies at work. Sahara had gone over the nexus this place was. How it radiated the energies manifested from the planet itself. Drawing the dark side of the Force from the surrounding planes of existence. Understanding little of it, he had just nodded his head. With the firsthand experience to compliment the background Sahara had given him, he now understood. The Force was easier to draw from, somehow tainted by the Dark side, more powerful and ripe with emotion. Even his hatred felt more amplified as he slowly followed his Master.
He could hear the voices and had waited the appointed time, ticking the seconds away in his mind. Dire would have control over himself, the beast tightly contained, the hold over the Force relinquished, extinguished as he stomped down the loading ramp. The uniformed guards did little to impress the gargantuan Zabrak slowly walking down the ramp. Those eyes showed no fear, nor did that stern tattooed face. With each step came the familiar sound of plates rubbing against each other. Stopping at the bottom of the ramp, making no hostile movement as they all tensed, he remained perfectly still.
Rain drops pelted his horned head, creating tiny rivulets of cold liquid between his horns. Dire knew they where all Force sensitive’s. Not because he was holding onto the Force and peering with the double vision Sahara had taught him, but rather because she had told him so. It was imperative he not appear hostile and thus was not to use the Force in any way.
Taking a few more steps once Sahara had spoke, he stood behind his Master, adverting his gaze from that of the Superior. Subservience came natural to the Nightbrother. The Sisters had taught him that through harsh discipline and punishments that taken his sight, voice and even left him paralyzed for weeks.
Sahara:
Sahara drew in a deep breath and bowed her head once more, glimpsing over her shoulder towards Dire she nodded him her approval to progress onward. Her pace carried her past the man who turned shoulder to allow her to pass, the massive male hulking behind her followed her in to the building, though the High Inquisitor's eyes was well upon Dire as he passed.
If Dire had expected a warm welcome, he certainly would receive none of it. This was hell for many, and heaven for those who accepted the Inquisition, it's power, and it's purpose. To form an unstoppable Force of Darkness in support to the Emperor.
The Citadel was as imposing inside as outside, it was purposefully built to make anyone who entered it feel small, insignificant, unworthy. Sahara had long since grown accustomed to this place, that entrance hall was long since emptied, no grand crowd, no messages, it was a waiting place, meant to dwendle those in it into dread before they would be led to the netherparts beneath the Citadel. The fortunate few, DIre, and those whom openly confessed their allegiance, were not led that path, instead they proceeded up the massive stairs at the far end and through the doors opened a great stair that circled up the spire, turbolifts built to the center support, rooms of countless number circled up the exterior of that stair.
Part of early Inquisitor training had recruits running up the stairs to the very top, Sahara remembered them well, each step would be burned into memories, early on ankles would swell, feet bleed until one was conditioned, strengthened.
Dire would never know this painful torture, their path took them to the lifts and had them quickly away, taken to the narrowing top of the building where the entire floor would contain but six High Inquisitor's offices, one of which the man she'd met outside, she entered there, along with Dire and waited, the room was open, expansive, giving view of the bleak Prakith landscape stretching through the darkness. Relics of all kinds, many emanating the darkside themselves made up the room, pictures depicting some of the great horrible acts known to the galaxy hung proudly.
Sahara's eyes glimpsed briefly towards the Zabrak next to her, even where they were the darkness only grew stronger, as if it radiated from the very tip of the building down through it, indeed it did, only the Grand Inquisitor inhabited the top floor with a perfect 360 degree view of the entire landscape.
Dire:
Easily occupied by the sheer breadth and scope of the Citadel. The immensity of it was beyond comprehension for Dire. Even the doorways where large enough to occupy his colossal physique. Keeping his silence as he had been told; no one had asked him any direction questions, the Nightbrother remained alert and weary of those around him. Even the High Inquisitor who looked at him as he passed by would not be met with Dire's searing glare. Those eyes would instead bear upon the lithe frame that quietly plodded through entryway. Reaching the hallway, Dire was immediately reminded that he was, nor could ever be, as large and as overpowering as the Citadel.
Sahara could never explain this concept to Dire. Experiencing it was gruesome. To a being who had faced down the Dark Lord of the Sith, it was humorous that a building could shrink him down to normal size and put fear into those large bones. Keeping that resolve clutched tightly in his grasp, he reminded himself who he was the progeny of, what had brought him - and further more the last words Sahara had told him. The Inquisitor had a plan.
The chilly reception and the even chillier architecture did little to dissuade the imposing Zabrak. Obediently following his Master he maintained that silence. As many questions as there was, he dare not even touch that mental link they had formed. The monumental undertaking it must have been to build the Citadel. The freezing dread that emanated from every stone latticework as well as the overarching durasteel beams where to be respected.
As grand and imposing as the Citadel was, what was more impressive was the dark energy of the Force. How it swirled around the entire place. Even without his second vision his senses told him of its presence. Whether it was through the feathery tendrils of pure frigid hatred that tried to wither away the Nightbrother's sense of being or that light hold he would always maintain over the Force; it made no matter, he could respect it and understand it.
When they came to the very top and into the High Inquisitor's office, he took note of the pictures. Their importance lost on him. Dire had never had any formal schooling. These events meant nothing to him. Their significance lost on him, he remained an immovable wall behind his Master.
Understanding how the spire was a conduit, its power rising with each level and culminating at the very top where Sahara had told him the Grand Inquisitor would hold her seat of power and vigil over the galaxy. Catching her glimpse, he remained impassive, those eyes of his a swirling vortex of his molten anger and curiosity.
Sahara/Arexa:
Their wait would seem an eternity, forever in place Sahara stood, her eyes not focused on Dire, instead ahead and out of the view port, the swirling mess of nature outside. The building was cold, and one could almost swear, very lightly upon the wind one could hear the unending screams of agony, the restless spirits that permeated through the air.
Soon enough the doors would open effortless, not the mechanical wonder of automated doors, everything there had an archaic style, actual doors, heavy ones that one opened with the Force. Nothing was easy save for the few items, like turbolifts, made anything there pleasant. Inquisitors were not pampered and spoiled, they were tools of the darkside, an army, be it a small one.
The High Inquisitor stepped in, approaching the far side of the room he placed his hands together spiritually, head bowed slightly as he peered out the pane.
"Your fate is not to be decided by me. The Grand Inquisitor knows of your wishes, you are to proceed to her chamber where she will receive you presently." he stated, turning to glimpse at Sahara and DIre.
Sahara bowed her head again, though turning despite the intense dread she had of going before the Grand Inquisitor, she looked to Dire, casting her best warning look for him to remember as they headed back out.
Into the lifts and up to the very peak, the very walls of the lift detracted downward, leaving them only on an open platform as they found themselves surrounded by a cone of transparasteel, lightning struck at it, crackling down it's exterior while a presence was felt by them both near immediately, heavily cloaked, hood over head, an icy glare of glowing orbs focused out at them, withered face showed much displeasure as one of the very Adepts hand picked by Emperor Palpatine remained, aged heavily with time, kept alive by the very Nexus that fed the area, she had well outlived her very species as she glared upon the two of them.
Near instantly they would feel a presence engulf them, whispers, voices, incomprehensible filled ears and a deep coldness chilled through them to the very core before being drawn back.
Sahara stepped from the platform and off of it, not moving to approach any further she dropped to a knee, kneeling before someone who's power rivaled or exceeded that of Lord Furos, though cared very little to be Dark Lord, content to continue her commission given by her former Master, the Emperor.
"Grand Inquisitor." Sahara spoke, "I come as but a humble servant to the Inquisition, and beg your mercy."
There was a rumbled deep chuckling that echoed out, whispers all around again, some fearful, others powerful, seemed as those the Force was near, and nowhere, thousands, and but one.
"I see through you Inquisitor Delano, already I know what you want, and who that thing is." the Grand Inquisitor snarled.
A sudden flick of her wrist flung Sahara across the room and slammed her into the very near transparent wall, pinned there, struggling.
"Whore."
That cloaked figure began to approach the Zabrak, and then walk away, circling around the male eyes were awash over him as she returned ahead of him.
"And you. Pathetic, worthless whelp. You think yourself powerful, but you are nothing, but a bastard to a line of Sith. No wonder your father abandoned you." those words resounded through Dire, through his ears, and even through his mind.
"Do you think I would be here, as I am, this day, if I did not know everything about those whom serve me? And here you come, hoping to deceive me. I know about you Dire Oppress. I know the abomination you are, handcrafted by the Dathomiri, breeding tool. Murderer to your former Mistress." continued that harsh voice.
"And here you are, mated with one of my Inquisitors, bonded in the Force. Yes - I can feel that connection even as we speak. If I were certain it would not kill her, I would end you now Zabrak."
The Grand Inquisitor turned about, back facing Dire as she returned back to the far reach where she'd been when they arrived.
"I should throw you both from my chambers, let Prakith's ground finish you so simply. The end to two who thought themselves so mighty as to dare conceal the truth from me. Am I not the Grand Inquisitor of the Emperor's BEST Truth Officers?" she snarled again.
"What have you to say Nightbrother? What reason should I have to not see you a cold pile of flesh upon the ground?"
Dire:
In a way the cold confines comforted Dire. The environment stood in antitheses to everything Dire was. A molten, unforgiving core, continually fueled by the fear of rejection, abandonment. Hatred for being abandoned, left to as a breeding stud for those vile witches on Dathomir, melded and fused with the fear to create the very thing upon which he drew his formidable power. While they waited in brooding silence, Dire did not look out the window pane. Hearing the storm, even sensing it, he closed his eyes and bent his head in contemplation. Thoughts did not come to that primitive mind, images and the emotions they always came burdened with.
Home had been a series of mud abodes strung together in a circle, surrounded by a wooden fence. There was nothing more base or primitive than the confines in which Dire had lived. Serving the needs of the Nightsister's he performed his tasks without complaint. Enduring their many tests and experiments, was it any wonder that underneath all that armor and flesh was a Zabrak whose only focus was death and destruction? How long had it taken him to realize that even if he was the progeny of Savage, it meant nothing without the power to back it up?
When the High Inquisitor finally showed himself, those sulfurous eyes filled with life and opened. Again Dire refused to meet the gaze of the male. The time was upon them. The ultimate test. What tricks would his Master have in store to save them? As they turned, catching her glimpse, his hand lightly brushed the only weapon he had been permitted to use. With the comfort of it at his side, he nodded to his Master, her warning well heeded.
Again they went into the cavernous hallways, he kept his head bowed as he passed the High Inquisitor, no disrespect given. Dire had not been noted or spoken to. Head low, he counted the individual bricks to keep his mind from wandering. When they stood in the central lift, he finally rose his glowering hues.
When the lift came to life and slowly rose to the pinnacle of the Citadel, he felt that omnipotent force. Again his eyes shifted to the floor. Engulfed by the sovereign presence of one so powerful, Dire actually felt the need to kneel, compelled to as the whispers of power began to infiltrate his mind. The chill grew even greater, finally permeating his bones, suppressing a tremor by planting his feet firmly and flexing every muscle, he remained tense and rigid.
When Sahara moved, so did the Zabrak. Two paces behind her, he knelt as she did, off of the elevator. The great horned head bowed in respect to the powerful being before him. Lord Furos the so called Dark Lord of the Sith would have an equal in the Grand Inquisitor.
The whispers continued, some urging compliance, others offering a glimpse of the future and still more offered the alluring chance at greatness that rivaled every the Dark Lord of the Sith. Dire wasn't in the least prepared for the assault from every angle, nor was he about to be afraid.
Fear was not something they could afford. Not here and now. His Master's voice filled the hollow space and he concentrated on her words, hoping to drown the whispers out.
Dire heard and felt the blow to Sahara. Jaw clenched and he remained impassive, down on his knee, great head bowed, eyes only for the stones beneath his feet, he said nothing. All the while he could feel the malice filled crone stalking around him. Prodding and poking in all the right chinks in the great suit of armor he wore.
Filling his mind with her cruel japes, placing the mental barbs that would be his ultimate undoing should he lose the last sliver of control he held. The struggle would be evident on the Nightbrother's face. Even those tattoo's seemed to take on a life of their own, swirling with each flash of bright light from overhead, as his face contorted, anger rising, heating his bones once again. Dire had never conceded to a deception in the first place. Trust in Sahara he reminded himself.
Never once raising his head to follow the walking Crone, he followed her instead with his sense. Her question filled his head, a thunderous voice, rising over the multitude.
His Master had not prepared him to answer any questions. To lie would be folly as he had suspected. Why? Why live? What was living? Survival was all Dire knew. Sahara had given him a taste. Brief as it was, that was the only reason he could think of. Steeling his face and his thoughts, the Zabrak took in a great breath and slowly exhaled it.
"I not disrespect Grand Inquisitor. I am powerful. I Dire, fight the Dark Lord of the Sith, survive." The Zabrak did not give her the soft voice reserved for those evenings before sleeping beside his Master, no he gave her the firm gruff voice of a Nightbrother, a Zabrakian warrior. That was he still on a knee was the only indication that Dire knew he was in the presence of a superior. That voice wouldn't shake, wouldn't quail, knew no fear.
"You hunt. I hunt. Hunt together. Kill all. I powerful. More powerful than Savage. I will not fail Master." There was that indomitable will. The very thing which had saw him through so many tragedies. Sending his strength through their connection, he pointed a finger at Sahara's exact location.
"I take Master's punishment. We overcome task Grand Inquisitor give. Will not fail." The intent was obvious. Why should the Grand Inquisitor lose a prospect such as Dire and one of her best Inquisitor's on the same day? Someone had to be punished for her transgressions, take it out on the Zabrak, give them a task and see it done to prove their usefulness to the Inquisition. The simplicity of a brute. Words where wind, let actions serve in their place - Dire would not fail his Master.
Arexa:
Arexa's grip on Sahara released at Dire's very last words, there was such a deadly silence, such a chilled moment where nothing was spoken, no indication given, merely arms which folded across the Grand Inquisitor's chest, hidden in those deep black robes. Dire's words, though simple, not well pronounced were quite well understood by the old relic of a once great power, of a once great time.
It was being like Arexa who had shaped the Galactic Empire in the massive cruel unyielding body that it was. In the days since it had crumbled and failed she longed to see the Imperial Remnant restored.
She laughed finally, such a deep, sickening rumble of laughter. One which only spoke the weight of what was to come was not going to be pleasant.
"Lord Furos is a fool. A non-force user could survive him. That you managed to escape him is no great glory. I'm more interested in the way you ruthlessly murdered the innocents in the farmhouse, the way the children looked in your eyes as you killed their parents right infront of them." the Grand Inquisitor stated, turning about finally and focusing on Dire, his request to take his Master's punishment was going to be a bitter-sweet sacrifice.
"Very well Apprentice, I would have ordered your Master to kill you, to prove her loyalty to me. That someone so important to her would hold no restraint. " Arexa stated.
"So it shall be with you, Dire Oppress. Your oath, and your promise already given that you will not fail. You will go to the Aeneid System in the Outer Rim, there you will find that cur you call a father, a traitor to the darkside, and you will kill him. You will bring me back his head. Or you shall replace it with your own." Arexa snarled.
"If you fail in your task, the full weight of the Inquisition will rain down on you in a way that even Lord Furos could not show you in visions."
Arexa turned, pointing towards the circle on the floor where the lift had left them to begin with.
"Now both of you get out of my sight."
Dire:
The hulking mass of muscle waited as calmly as could be. Raging inferno within, subdued minion outside. Dire would take any punishment. It was not Sahara's to endure. The Zabrak had forced himself upon her life. Knowing a rebuke was in store for him, he instead focus on that biting, chilling laughter. Dire did not care or have any feeling regarding those he murdered simply for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Sahara required no witnesses. Cutting their lives short provided the solution to the problem he had been given. Striking him odd however where her thoughts on Lord Furos. The Grand Inquisitor was sadly mistaken. While he had yet to feel the brunt of the Crone's full power, he knew full well no ordinary being could survive where he had.
The chastening came more swift than he had thought it would. Expecting lightning or some other new strange Force power he had yet to be acquainted with. Instead it was a simple order. Kill his Father. What could the Nightbrother do? Without any visible reaction the words formed at the tip of his tongue. Lips parted seconds later, "Yes Grand Inquisitor."
Standing up just as rigidly as he had knelt, he returned to the platform. That glow in his eyes was once again tinged with the malevolence of the dark side. Coursing through his veins, empowering the already oppressive Dire, he held no grip on the Force. Instead it choose to manifest within him. The hatred and remorse at what he had accepted acting as a catalyst. The power it produced twisted his insides, burned the Zabrak hollow as he waited for Sahara to join him. The pain was overwhelming and yet there would be no grieving. The grim countenance said it all as the elevator began to lower.
The punishment was his to bear. Aenied system. Cur. Traitor. Savage a traitor? The fires that burned in his eyes grew greater. Saying nothing to Sahara, he would follow her wherever she took him.
Sahara:
Sahara limped from the wall towards where Dire had gathered, she didn't look towards Arexa, no, that much would only likely infuriate the powerful being, Arexa wasn't a woman argued with, or questioned, she was one that merely spoke command and saw it followed immediately.
Sahara glimpsed towards Dire who wouldn't look to her, didn't speak, the only relief the two had was when the lift descended, taking them from Arexa's immediate presence and lowering them back through the Citadel.
In the time that had taken during everything, a vessel had been prepared, left in the place of their former vessel, standardly stocked with everything Sahara's other vessel had, save for the few personal items she had managed to keep before.
Sahara didn't say anything to Dire, kept that pretense of Master and Apprentice, even if further personal details were already known to the Grand Inquisitor.
The two headed back out the way they came, and into the vessel. Sahara hit the switch to close the rear hatch, letting it seal before she headed to the cockpit, taking her seat she checked over everything, systems, mechanicals, supplies, they were all good and it wasn't long before the new sleek courier lifted off and as expediently as could be done, left the system.
Only then did she swivel her seat around and embraced Dire, hugging him ever so tight. Despite everything, despite the dreaded task Dire had been given, they had a great victory. They both had survived.
She looked to his glowing eyes and repeated the words he'd given her in the beginning.
"We Survive."
Dire:
The rite of passage was a terrible burden to uphold. An abomination unrivaled. Shriveled old Crone probably hooted at the idea of son surpassing Father by killing him and having his head delivered on a platter. Would she gorge herself on the emotions that plagued the Zabrak's mind? Grim throughout the procession through the citadel complex, with only the dull thuds of his heavy plated boots to accompany them, he ascended the ramp with little fanfare. Survival was paramount and an astute practitioner would see the effects it had on Dire.
Strapping himself in beside his Master, he gave no voice to the dreadful pain he bore. Hiding it from the presence at the back of his mind. Aboard their new vessel, with seats that could easily hold the size of the Nigthbrother, he leaned back and relaxed tense muscles. Gathering the swelling energies of the Dark side, he held onto them, a ring of fire surround his sulfurous gaze. Wherever it touched, it seemed to burn and sear.
Relinquishing all that energy when they left Prathik, he looked out into the vastness of space. Aenied system. Where in that jumbled mass of stars was that? Where would his journey end? How had his Father betrayed the Dark side? Casting his cruel glare on Sahara as she hugged him, he wrapped his muscular arms around her. Squeezing tightly.
"Told Master. We survive." Acting as though it where nothing, he released her and looked into her eyes, "Train. Savage powerful. I," he pointed at himself, "more powerful. Need train."
The one thing that could always be counted on to distract him from his feelings. Training. Mastering the Force. Easing himself out of the chair, he began walking towards the room that had been set aside for his training. Whether it lightsaber technique or control over the Force itself and some new technique, Dire was already forming his battle strategy. Savage would be a vicious, ruthless opponent - having lived just as Dire once had, the edge would be who had mastery over the Dark side of the Force.
Sahara:
Sahara nodded to Dire's deep rumbling tones. His arms releasing her as he moved to leave the cockpit, stating his need to train. She looked to those deep reflective eyes as she watched him go, he didn't have to say it, she already knew what he felt. Those lingering effects from their bond gave her a sickening feel in her stomach as she watched him disappear into the rest of the ship.
Sahara sat for awhile in the cockpit, leaving Dire to train and practice the routines she'd given him, adapting the ships controls over to be more like it's predecessor she finally got up and headed into the rest of the ship.
She stepped from the small lift out into the corridor, her eyes glimpsing along the short expanse before she walked along, heading to the cargo area where Dire usually trained, it was the largest room on the ship, capable of allowing the massive Zabrak to move unhindered for a bit.
Her eyes lingered on him as she took a seat on one of the metal storage containers that was strapped down, secure, watching the hulking male train she folded her arms across her chest, contemplating as she finally spoke, interrupting Dire's focus.
"You don't have to do it. I will leave the Inquisition."
Dire:
With that lead ball in his gut, he made his way through the corridor. Each thumping step bringing him nearer his goal. There was a deep peace to the towering Zabrak. Having a goal. Something to concentrate on. Dire never needed anybody. Feeling the angst within himself, he hardened his resolve as he strode into the cargo area. Crates lined the walls, netting to hold them in place, he made his way forward. Those glowering eyes seemed less alive. Far away and distant. There was no stretching for the behemoth who immediately ignited his saber and begin going through the various lightsaber forms. Slowly at first, feeling through each movement, becoming more and more graceful and elegant with each step taken. Coming full circle, feet superbly placed he began moving quicker, faster, harder.
By the time Sahara made her way back to check on his progress, the Nightbrother's crown would be glistening in sweat. Tiny droplets formed rivulets in between his horns. The red glare of the saber deepened the lines the scowl, pronouncing each grimace, every growl and grunt as it came out. Several large crates where also floating and that dark, sinister Force seemed to ebb and flow through the gargantuan figure. The technique had grown more complex, weaving through several different forms, constantly adapting and changing, creating the illusion of moving one direction and striking in the complete opposite. Even then he never fell into a pattern, remaining completely unpredictable as he fused the forms into his own amalgamation of everything he had been taught by the Inquisitor.
The rage that coursed through him was the core of his power, the very essence that drove him towards perfection. Surrounding it was the unmistakable dark power she had shown him, opened his eyes too, empowering every bold stroke of that saber, keeping his concentration attuned to the crates as they levitated. He began stacking them in mid-air before she spoke. Without breaking his stride, he set all the crates down in a pyramid shape. Clicking his saber off, he hung it on his belt and looked to his Master with a searing glare.
"No."
Sahara:
Sahara's perch was upon one of these very crates, slowly floating around Dire as he manipulated them with the Force, her eyes were ever upon him save for when one of the others passed between them.
When they were stacked into a pyramid, she sat on the very peak, looking to the Zabrak as he turned his saber off and clipped it back on before looking to her with a glare. She was not certain when she heard Dire's booming voice, cutting through the silence like a hot knife through butter.
"Then you want this?" she asked him.
Dire:
The Zabrak stood for a full minute without saying anything. Besides those sulfurous orbs and heaving chest there was nothing to signal that he was even alive. Through their bond she might feel the tingle of emotions that ran through the Nightbrother. To Dire there was no choice. Word was given. Instead of Sahara being told to kill him, he had to kill the one person that had started this entire jaunt into the galaxy.
"No." Those deep, husky tones filled the chamber. "Will. I must." Dire had caused all the trouble in the first place. Now that he was aligned with the Dark side of the Force and had allied himself with Sahara and the Inquisition, there was no going back. "This what we do Master. We hunt. Kill."
That his first would be his Father was ... jarring. An unspeakable pain and loss at having to kill the man who had given him life; but who had also abandoned him to the Witches on Dathomir. Dire would do what he would have to do and she would feel that resolve harden, even as the emotions tried to strip it away from him, make him doubt himself. Dire's gaze never left the Inquisitor's, unsure of where she was going with this.
Sahara:
Sahara rose from her seat, stepping down the pyramid she touched the deck beneath them, slowly approaching Dire as she looked at those hardened eyes, that resolve, but the pain behind it. Such a harsh brutal task he had been given, perhaps it was the true way of the Sith, to ensure loyalties were to the Master and not to the emotional bindings.
Sahara knew how Dire had longed to find his father, that their reunion would be one of death was another thing entirely. She felt for him, perhaps due to her emotional affection for the Zabrak did she even really care. Her fingers brushed along his jaw, lightly touching against his cheek as she looked to those eyes and leaned to him, pressing her lips next to his on his chin.
"I wouldn't have killed you." she told him in but a whisper, drawing back, looking to his eyes and then turning, starting to walk away from him.
Dire:
The Nightbrother stood as tense as a post while Sahara inspected his tattooed visage. Feeling the warmth of her kiss, he kept his golden gaze locked and stern.
Her hulking brute caught her around the stomach with his hand. That hardened frame turning and pressing the metal plates against her back. Picking her up with his one arm around her stomach, he pressed his lips against her ears, "I know. Grand Inquisitor kill us both. Cannot allow." Setting her down with a few harsh breaths he released his hold over her much smaller frame and gave her a rough shove in the direction she had been walking.
With her scent filling him once again, he felt energized. Emotions where the bane of Dire. True he fed on them, drew his considerable power from them, but they ultimately failed him. Only his anger and hatred kept him alive. Saw him through any obstacle. This would be no different he told himself. Kill or be killed. Savage ... was a traitor.
What was the brute to say? A barbarian had no use for emotions. An engine of destruction and awesome power. The Grand Inquisitor could not belittle him. Dire knew just how menacing his Father had been. To catch the eye of the Grand Inquisitor, he must be great indeed.
"Why Savage traitor?"
Sahara:
It was true, Sahara would have died for Dire. She would have refused the Grand Inquisitor's command and in doing so would have killed them both. At least in doing so Dire would have known she had been true to him. True to her word, perhaps she understood Dire's response now. Her body was seized, pulled back against Dire's chest as he held her there, pressing his lips against her ear, the feeling was comforting for the slightest of moments before the Zabrak shoved her forward, sending her back in her direction she was going, him following right behind her.
His question came as no surprise, though Sahara did not have the answer, at least, to her knowledge of current.
"I don't know." she told Dire, glimpsing over her shoulder towards those curious eyes. " Lets find out." she told him. Certainly there would be a file awaiting them in the computer regarding their mission.
She led him towards the lounge section of the ship, a small little sofa and a view screen across from, there she could access the information her mate so seeked. Once they were upon it, she pushed Dire down, sitting him there while she slumped next to him, curled slightly against his chest while she took his wrist, the one she'd mounted a similar control pad upon, she lightly tapped at the controls, accessing the computer interface and beginning to pull up the files.
Dire:
Dire knew Sahara to be true. The Inquisitor had never joked with him before. Deadly serious. His Master had offered to leave her home just so he could avoid killing his father - which would more than certainly put them in even greater peril. The Inquisition wasn't someone Dire wanted after him - not after being in the presence of the Grand Inquisitor. One day he would wield enough power to dethrone her and make her pay - but that day wasn't today and so today he must be an obedient slave.
Thudding behind her, he nodded his great horned head, the red rings around his eyes disappearing and giving way to that glowering look he wore so well. Grim set face he would have stopped, but as was the case with most things, his Master pushed him into the comforts of the sofa. Curling against him, he still wasn't used to this behavior or even mildly comprehending of it.
Dire had been curious about the control pad. Never accessing it himself. While his fingers appeared clumsy, the interface made him uncomfortable. Watching intently he turned his eyes to the viewscreen waiting to see what information Sahara would pull up. At the same time, he moved an armored arm around her body, clasping his fingers at her hip.
Ever silent, he waited with growing apprehension. What had Savage done? Why? ... Why did he leave Dire all those years ago?
Sahara:
Sahara pulled up the information file on Savage Oppress. The pictorial resemblance to Dire was uncanny. She almost had to take a glimpse at Dire and then back to the screen before she relaxed in the arm of the massive Zabrak. Her fingers kept tapping at the controls on his wrist, scrolling down to the events that the Inquisition knew for certain, little bits of information from all over the Imperial Network. Such a comprehensive database of everything, it put the archives of the Jedi Order to shame.
Speaking of the Jedi Order.
"It appears Savage was coerced to the Jedi order around the time that your uncle was killed on Tattooine." she told Dire. " That explains the traitor part." she commented.
"These entries are somewhat old entries, but it appears that he lives on Aeneid." she told Dire, thumbing to the picture of a slight snapshot with a hulking Zabrak in the background, only a side shot visible, but it appeared to match Savage's appearance quite well.
Dire:
A Sith and a Jedi. The Skywalker's had managed somehow, so too could the Opress' dynasty. Staring up at the picture of his Father, he could tell the little nuisances that made him different. The tattoos where nearly identical. Unable to read the information as quickly as Sahara was able to he missed a great deal of it, though the Inquisitor filled him in on the important bit.
"Savage kill Uncle with Jedi?" The thought was puzzling. As menacing a warrior as there ever was - why give that all up? There had to be more to it. Retracting his arm from around Sahara, he leaned back, none of it making any sense. There was no way to place the information obtained by the Inquisition next to the information gleamed from the Nightsisters.
Seeing the most recent photo of his Father, he committed it to memory. Even his earliest memories of his Father had faded away, dissolving into nothingness. No images. Only a voice. Like the one that had appeared just before their last ship crashed. Still struggling with the idea, the Nightbrother would have kept his silence, save for a single question, "More?"
What was in the Aeneid system? Why was he there? Where their more Jedi? More training he told himself. Need more training.
Sahara:
"It doesnt' say that specifically." She told Dire, glimpsing to him as he retracted his arms, the look of confusion settling on him, a look she'd seen several times already.
"It's likely he joined them after your uncle was killed. " she told Dire. Then again Dire's own bloodline never hesitated to betray another of their kin, Sahara couldn't really say.
She looked to him once more as he questioned for further information, she tapped a few times on Dire's wristband, sending all the information, and pictures of his Father's file into his wristband, replacing the screen's information with that of the planet. Some outer rim world, nothing specifically grand about it, so far out of the way that it was no wonder he had been able to hide there this long.
"Your father's file is lengthy, I'll let you read when you have time. " she told him, lightly stroking his arm. "I'll leave your interface active with the computer so you can look up anything you want." she told him.
Dire:
Feeling her eyes boring into him, questioning his confusion and his blood, he said nothing. The shame was too great. It was true Dire had betrayed the Witches, would have betrayed Sahara and will ultimately betray his Father ... in truth he didn't see himself as anything but loyal. How long had he lasted at the Nightsister Temple, enduring, surviving, waiting for someone who would never come?
Feeling the last few taps and the green indicator light that signaled a successful data transfer, he shut the connection off. Most of it was illegible to the Zabrak anyway. "No want." He saidfinally, getting up, pushing Sahara to the side, he regarded the blank screen, picturing the way his Father looked before turning his back on it and looking at the lounging form of his Master.
"Doesn't matter. Kill." The look of determination, mingled with that of his never ending hatred, gave away his resolve. The emotions where their, nagging, insistent that he not give up faith. Faith had led him no where. Hope was an illusion. Dire survived and that was how he got by. No one came to his rescue on Dathomir. All those broken promises, all those knives in the back. Still he found some way to trust Sahara - would she too end up being a costly mistake? It didn't matter.
He strode for the room, the footsteps heard as he made for their quarters instead of the training room.
Sahara drew in a deep breath and slowly exhaled it as the indicator began to beep their impending exit from hyperspace. Her hand extended upward without even opening her eyes and she gripped the lever, drawing it back as the ship was spat forth from hyperspace. Elongated stars shrank back to just less than perfect splotches of light with a planet ahead, the cold, barren, inhospitable world of Prakith, capital of the Imperial Inquisition, and the Citadel.
The world Sahara would never forget as the immediate icy chill was washed over her, a nexus of the Darkside.
Sahara's eyes glimpsed towards Dire's glowing orbs, she still hadn't figured out what she was going to do about him, or how she'd explain, she'd be in enough trouble for destroying a vessel of the Imperial Inquisition anyway, those stealthable ships weren't cheap.
"So it begins." she told Dire before glimpsing back ahead and already piloting the vessel on a set course, already a squadron of fighters was on it's intercept course for the vessel. A few presses on the foreign console had clearance codes transmitted, and even so they would escort them all the way to the Citadel. Security was security.
Dire:
Dire had taken the entire last week to recover from his encounter with the Dark Lord of the Sith. Over that time he had tackled whatever exercises Sahara had deemed necessary. Going over the protocol and steps they would have to take once they reached the seat of the Inquisition. Breaking the silence, oversized for his chair and the straps that feebly bound him, he turned to the Inquisitor.
"I can hide my presence Master." It was a request to go ahead with that plan instead of him being in plain sight. The nearer they got to the planet, the more the cold permeated his tough, muscular physique. Leeching away the warmth of his body and replacing it with a numbing coldness. A heaviness set in about his shoulders, impressing upon him the importance of the coming confrontation. They could not run from their actions, nor could Sahara hide him any longer. They would need to face whatever punishment the Inquisition deemed necessary. Dire had no understanding of the politics at play or even their low chances of survival.
Turning back to the viewport as their escort took up their positions, he wondered, his Master wasn't someone to just lie down and take a beating. As she had shown when the Dark Lord of the Sith had attempted to break Dire's resolve.
Sahara:
Sahara shook her head, looking to Dire she reached over and placed her tiny hand over the behemoth's on the arm of the chair. Her breathing deepened a little as she tried to force a smile.
"No my apprentice. The Grand Inquisitor's mental capabilities are far too strong for that, she would see right through any deception, be it you, or myself." she told him.
Her hand drew back as she piloted the craft down into the stormy atmosphere, thick dark clouds covered the forbidden landscape, flashes of light signaled the forces of nature followed by booms so powerful it rumbled into the freighter they were in.
The area was dark, the only light came from those flashes, and ahead soon illuminated a massive spired compled, reaching towards the heavens and looking very much both a cathedral and a prison. Indeed it was both.
Soon her ship touche down in the massive walled courtyard around the base of the building, like a wheel of a bicycle.
Rain was pouring down heavily, and it was indeed what one would think of the most dreaded place in the galaxy, a place where Force users of all types found themselves imprisoned, twisted, and tortured by the agents of the Darkside in a building meant to keep them there.
Sahara rose up, glimpsing to Dire in those glowing orbs in the dim light.
"Remember as I have told you my Apprentice, while you are powerful, you are no match for my Mistress the Grand Inquisitor. And when we are unfortunate enough to find ourselves in her presence, you will kneel to her. She is not Spite Furos, she will kill you without hesitation."
Dire:
Taking it all in with that glowering stare of his, he met Sahara's gaze before turning his head away as another flash of light entered the cockpit. No deceptions. No tricks. Sahara had to be up to something. It was certain death to present themselves to the Grand Inquisitor. Remembering well her warning, that he was to kneel when told, bow his head, submit himself to every question and scrutiny. Sahara had a real idea of the servitude the hulking Zabrak had endured on Dathomir for so many years until breaking free of his bonds.
Focusing on the Citadel as its black spire became evident in the storm charged atmosphere, Dire remained silent and brooding. Taking in the architecture, the simple brute felt the weight of it impress itself upon him. The feeling of power and dominance it held, even as the fury of the sky rained down upon it. Holding steadfast, it radiated a feeling of dread. Feeling his resolve weaken under it, he cast a glance towards his Master. Why didn't she exude this kind of aura? Repelling the thoughts just as she had taught him, he let his rage and hatred consume him. He dare not touch the Force this close to the complex.
When they finally set down and Sahara rose, her Apprentice would as well. The buckles coming loose under his deft touches and soon he was thudding behind his Master. "Understood. I will kneel." Reaching out she would feel the weight of his hand as it clasped around her shoulder, giving it a light pat and a squeeze before releasing. "We survive."
Dire could still feel her presence in the back of his mind. A calm reassuring presence. Sahara just had to have something up her sleeve to deal with this mess he had gotten them into.
Sahara:
Sahara's pace was halted as Dire gripped her, squeezing, her breathing held for a moment as she tilted her head over her shoulder, looking back to his eyes as she heard those deep Zabrakian tones.
"Whatever happens Dire, I will not see your path end here. Remember all that I have told you of this place incase that choice is no longer my own. I have taught you all I know of concealment, even so, no one has ever escaped here. Of course no one was exactly like you." she told him, only then a slight genuine curl upward of her lips formed before she tugged herself away, heading out of the ship, Dire in tow unto a formation of thick black armored guardsmen, all Force users, all ready to crush them at the slightest irregularity. To this sight, hundreds of Force sensitives would pass, their last glimpse to the outside world while they were breathing.
In the center of the lined rows awaited another Inquisitor, if Dire could sense them, this one would quite easily match his Master's signature perfectly.
Sahara approached this one, an older human male, gruff looking, face worn with experience of years. He stood, clothing of black, looking very much as a cult would, Sahara calmly approached, her eyes right on this one as she paused before him.
"High Inquisitor Turell." Sahara bowed her head slightly.
"Inquisitor Delano. Your return is most unexpected, but welcome."
"Thank you High Inquisitor, the events over the last few weeks have been.. irregular. I seek a new vessel and supplies." she told him.
There was a sudden tensing of all the guards as well as the old man as Dire appeared, hands fell to lightsabers all around, only halted from being drawn by Sahara's hand as she shook her head.
"He is with me. Stand down." the guards obeyed but the old man, Sahara's superior cast a cold, suspicious eye over him before looking back to Sahara.
"I sense the Force in him, why is he not bound?"
"I wish an audience with you to discuss that High Inquisitor. He wishes to join us, but on the condition that I be the one to train him."
There was a cold, silent response from the man as he turned, motioning with his hand towards the Citadel.
"Wait for me inside."
Dire:
The weight of the world of Prakith seemed to be on Dire's shoulder. He did not slump or otherwise show the oppressive weight. Even as it bore down on him with each step, he went over the exercises in his mind. Working through the processes to unlock the barriers that would prevent the mental antagonism of the dark energies at work. Sahara had gone over the nexus this place was. How it radiated the energies manifested from the planet itself. Drawing the dark side of the Force from the surrounding planes of existence. Understanding little of it, he had just nodded his head. With the firsthand experience to compliment the background Sahara had given him, he now understood. The Force was easier to draw from, somehow tainted by the Dark side, more powerful and ripe with emotion. Even his hatred felt more amplified as he slowly followed his Master.
He could hear the voices and had waited the appointed time, ticking the seconds away in his mind. Dire would have control over himself, the beast tightly contained, the hold over the Force relinquished, extinguished as he stomped down the loading ramp. The uniformed guards did little to impress the gargantuan Zabrak slowly walking down the ramp. Those eyes showed no fear, nor did that stern tattooed face. With each step came the familiar sound of plates rubbing against each other. Stopping at the bottom of the ramp, making no hostile movement as they all tensed, he remained perfectly still.
Rain drops pelted his horned head, creating tiny rivulets of cold liquid between his horns. Dire knew they where all Force sensitive’s. Not because he was holding onto the Force and peering with the double vision Sahara had taught him, but rather because she had told him so. It was imperative he not appear hostile and thus was not to use the Force in any way.
Taking a few more steps once Sahara had spoke, he stood behind his Master, adverting his gaze from that of the Superior. Subservience came natural to the Nightbrother. The Sisters had taught him that through harsh discipline and punishments that taken his sight, voice and even left him paralyzed for weeks.
Sahara:
Sahara drew in a deep breath and bowed her head once more, glimpsing over her shoulder towards Dire she nodded him her approval to progress onward. Her pace carried her past the man who turned shoulder to allow her to pass, the massive male hulking behind her followed her in to the building, though the High Inquisitor's eyes was well upon Dire as he passed.
If Dire had expected a warm welcome, he certainly would receive none of it. This was hell for many, and heaven for those who accepted the Inquisition, it's power, and it's purpose. To form an unstoppable Force of Darkness in support to the Emperor.
The Citadel was as imposing inside as outside, it was purposefully built to make anyone who entered it feel small, insignificant, unworthy. Sahara had long since grown accustomed to this place, that entrance hall was long since emptied, no grand crowd, no messages, it was a waiting place, meant to dwendle those in it into dread before they would be led to the netherparts beneath the Citadel. The fortunate few, DIre, and those whom openly confessed their allegiance, were not led that path, instead they proceeded up the massive stairs at the far end and through the doors opened a great stair that circled up the spire, turbolifts built to the center support, rooms of countless number circled up the exterior of that stair.
Part of early Inquisitor training had recruits running up the stairs to the very top, Sahara remembered them well, each step would be burned into memories, early on ankles would swell, feet bleed until one was conditioned, strengthened.
Dire would never know this painful torture, their path took them to the lifts and had them quickly away, taken to the narrowing top of the building where the entire floor would contain but six High Inquisitor's offices, one of which the man she'd met outside, she entered there, along with Dire and waited, the room was open, expansive, giving view of the bleak Prakith landscape stretching through the darkness. Relics of all kinds, many emanating the darkside themselves made up the room, pictures depicting some of the great horrible acts known to the galaxy hung proudly.
Sahara's eyes glimpsed briefly towards the Zabrak next to her, even where they were the darkness only grew stronger, as if it radiated from the very tip of the building down through it, indeed it did, only the Grand Inquisitor inhabited the top floor with a perfect 360 degree view of the entire landscape.
Dire:
Easily occupied by the sheer breadth and scope of the Citadel. The immensity of it was beyond comprehension for Dire. Even the doorways where large enough to occupy his colossal physique. Keeping his silence as he had been told; no one had asked him any direction questions, the Nightbrother remained alert and weary of those around him. Even the High Inquisitor who looked at him as he passed by would not be met with Dire's searing glare. Those eyes would instead bear upon the lithe frame that quietly plodded through entryway. Reaching the hallway, Dire was immediately reminded that he was, nor could ever be, as large and as overpowering as the Citadel.
Sahara could never explain this concept to Dire. Experiencing it was gruesome. To a being who had faced down the Dark Lord of the Sith, it was humorous that a building could shrink him down to normal size and put fear into those large bones. Keeping that resolve clutched tightly in his grasp, he reminded himself who he was the progeny of, what had brought him - and further more the last words Sahara had told him. The Inquisitor had a plan.
The chilly reception and the even chillier architecture did little to dissuade the imposing Zabrak. Obediently following his Master he maintained that silence. As many questions as there was, he dare not even touch that mental link they had formed. The monumental undertaking it must have been to build the Citadel. The freezing dread that emanated from every stone latticework as well as the overarching durasteel beams where to be respected.
As grand and imposing as the Citadel was, what was more impressive was the dark energy of the Force. How it swirled around the entire place. Even without his second vision his senses told him of its presence. Whether it was through the feathery tendrils of pure frigid hatred that tried to wither away the Nightbrother's sense of being or that light hold he would always maintain over the Force; it made no matter, he could respect it and understand it.
When they came to the very top and into the High Inquisitor's office, he took note of the pictures. Their importance lost on him. Dire had never had any formal schooling. These events meant nothing to him. Their significance lost on him, he remained an immovable wall behind his Master.
Understanding how the spire was a conduit, its power rising with each level and culminating at the very top where Sahara had told him the Grand Inquisitor would hold her seat of power and vigil over the galaxy. Catching her glimpse, he remained impassive, those eyes of his a swirling vortex of his molten anger and curiosity.
Sahara/Arexa:
Their wait would seem an eternity, forever in place Sahara stood, her eyes not focused on Dire, instead ahead and out of the view port, the swirling mess of nature outside. The building was cold, and one could almost swear, very lightly upon the wind one could hear the unending screams of agony, the restless spirits that permeated through the air.
Soon enough the doors would open effortless, not the mechanical wonder of automated doors, everything there had an archaic style, actual doors, heavy ones that one opened with the Force. Nothing was easy save for the few items, like turbolifts, made anything there pleasant. Inquisitors were not pampered and spoiled, they were tools of the darkside, an army, be it a small one.
The High Inquisitor stepped in, approaching the far side of the room he placed his hands together spiritually, head bowed slightly as he peered out the pane.
"Your fate is not to be decided by me. The Grand Inquisitor knows of your wishes, you are to proceed to her chamber where she will receive you presently." he stated, turning to glimpse at Sahara and DIre.
Sahara bowed her head again, though turning despite the intense dread she had of going before the Grand Inquisitor, she looked to Dire, casting her best warning look for him to remember as they headed back out.
Into the lifts and up to the very peak, the very walls of the lift detracted downward, leaving them only on an open platform as they found themselves surrounded by a cone of transparasteel, lightning struck at it, crackling down it's exterior while a presence was felt by them both near immediately, heavily cloaked, hood over head, an icy glare of glowing orbs focused out at them, withered face showed much displeasure as one of the very Adepts hand picked by Emperor Palpatine remained, aged heavily with time, kept alive by the very Nexus that fed the area, she had well outlived her very species as she glared upon the two of them.
Near instantly they would feel a presence engulf them, whispers, voices, incomprehensible filled ears and a deep coldness chilled through them to the very core before being drawn back.
Sahara stepped from the platform and off of it, not moving to approach any further she dropped to a knee, kneeling before someone who's power rivaled or exceeded that of Lord Furos, though cared very little to be Dark Lord, content to continue her commission given by her former Master, the Emperor.
"Grand Inquisitor." Sahara spoke, "I come as but a humble servant to the Inquisition, and beg your mercy."
There was a rumbled deep chuckling that echoed out, whispers all around again, some fearful, others powerful, seemed as those the Force was near, and nowhere, thousands, and but one.
"I see through you Inquisitor Delano, already I know what you want, and who that thing is." the Grand Inquisitor snarled.
A sudden flick of her wrist flung Sahara across the room and slammed her into the very near transparent wall, pinned there, struggling.
"Whore."
That cloaked figure began to approach the Zabrak, and then walk away, circling around the male eyes were awash over him as she returned ahead of him.
"And you. Pathetic, worthless whelp. You think yourself powerful, but you are nothing, but a bastard to a line of Sith. No wonder your father abandoned you." those words resounded through Dire, through his ears, and even through his mind.
"Do you think I would be here, as I am, this day, if I did not know everything about those whom serve me? And here you come, hoping to deceive me. I know about you Dire Oppress. I know the abomination you are, handcrafted by the Dathomiri, breeding tool. Murderer to your former Mistress." continued that harsh voice.
"And here you are, mated with one of my Inquisitors, bonded in the Force. Yes - I can feel that connection even as we speak. If I were certain it would not kill her, I would end you now Zabrak."
The Grand Inquisitor turned about, back facing Dire as she returned back to the far reach where she'd been when they arrived.
"I should throw you both from my chambers, let Prakith's ground finish you so simply. The end to two who thought themselves so mighty as to dare conceal the truth from me. Am I not the Grand Inquisitor of the Emperor's BEST Truth Officers?" she snarled again.
"What have you to say Nightbrother? What reason should I have to not see you a cold pile of flesh upon the ground?"
Dire:
In a way the cold confines comforted Dire. The environment stood in antitheses to everything Dire was. A molten, unforgiving core, continually fueled by the fear of rejection, abandonment. Hatred for being abandoned, left to as a breeding stud for those vile witches on Dathomir, melded and fused with the fear to create the very thing upon which he drew his formidable power. While they waited in brooding silence, Dire did not look out the window pane. Hearing the storm, even sensing it, he closed his eyes and bent his head in contemplation. Thoughts did not come to that primitive mind, images and the emotions they always came burdened with.
Home had been a series of mud abodes strung together in a circle, surrounded by a wooden fence. There was nothing more base or primitive than the confines in which Dire had lived. Serving the needs of the Nightsister's he performed his tasks without complaint. Enduring their many tests and experiments, was it any wonder that underneath all that armor and flesh was a Zabrak whose only focus was death and destruction? How long had it taken him to realize that even if he was the progeny of Savage, it meant nothing without the power to back it up?
When the High Inquisitor finally showed himself, those sulfurous eyes filled with life and opened. Again Dire refused to meet the gaze of the male. The time was upon them. The ultimate test. What tricks would his Master have in store to save them? As they turned, catching her glimpse, his hand lightly brushed the only weapon he had been permitted to use. With the comfort of it at his side, he nodded to his Master, her warning well heeded.
Again they went into the cavernous hallways, he kept his head bowed as he passed the High Inquisitor, no disrespect given. Dire had not been noted or spoken to. Head low, he counted the individual bricks to keep his mind from wandering. When they stood in the central lift, he finally rose his glowering hues.
When the lift came to life and slowly rose to the pinnacle of the Citadel, he felt that omnipotent force. Again his eyes shifted to the floor. Engulfed by the sovereign presence of one so powerful, Dire actually felt the need to kneel, compelled to as the whispers of power began to infiltrate his mind. The chill grew even greater, finally permeating his bones, suppressing a tremor by planting his feet firmly and flexing every muscle, he remained tense and rigid.
When Sahara moved, so did the Zabrak. Two paces behind her, he knelt as she did, off of the elevator. The great horned head bowed in respect to the powerful being before him. Lord Furos the so called Dark Lord of the Sith would have an equal in the Grand Inquisitor.
The whispers continued, some urging compliance, others offering a glimpse of the future and still more offered the alluring chance at greatness that rivaled every the Dark Lord of the Sith. Dire wasn't in the least prepared for the assault from every angle, nor was he about to be afraid.
Fear was not something they could afford. Not here and now. His Master's voice filled the hollow space and he concentrated on her words, hoping to drown the whispers out.
Dire heard and felt the blow to Sahara. Jaw clenched and he remained impassive, down on his knee, great head bowed, eyes only for the stones beneath his feet, he said nothing. All the while he could feel the malice filled crone stalking around him. Prodding and poking in all the right chinks in the great suit of armor he wore.
Filling his mind with her cruel japes, placing the mental barbs that would be his ultimate undoing should he lose the last sliver of control he held. The struggle would be evident on the Nightbrother's face. Even those tattoo's seemed to take on a life of their own, swirling with each flash of bright light from overhead, as his face contorted, anger rising, heating his bones once again. Dire had never conceded to a deception in the first place. Trust in Sahara he reminded himself.
Never once raising his head to follow the walking Crone, he followed her instead with his sense. Her question filled his head, a thunderous voice, rising over the multitude.
His Master had not prepared him to answer any questions. To lie would be folly as he had suspected. Why? Why live? What was living? Survival was all Dire knew. Sahara had given him a taste. Brief as it was, that was the only reason he could think of. Steeling his face and his thoughts, the Zabrak took in a great breath and slowly exhaled it.
"I not disrespect Grand Inquisitor. I am powerful. I Dire, fight the Dark Lord of the Sith, survive." The Zabrak did not give her the soft voice reserved for those evenings before sleeping beside his Master, no he gave her the firm gruff voice of a Nightbrother, a Zabrakian warrior. That was he still on a knee was the only indication that Dire knew he was in the presence of a superior. That voice wouldn't shake, wouldn't quail, knew no fear.
"You hunt. I hunt. Hunt together. Kill all. I powerful. More powerful than Savage. I will not fail Master." There was that indomitable will. The very thing which had saw him through so many tragedies. Sending his strength through their connection, he pointed a finger at Sahara's exact location.
"I take Master's punishment. We overcome task Grand Inquisitor give. Will not fail." The intent was obvious. Why should the Grand Inquisitor lose a prospect such as Dire and one of her best Inquisitor's on the same day? Someone had to be punished for her transgressions, take it out on the Zabrak, give them a task and see it done to prove their usefulness to the Inquisition. The simplicity of a brute. Words where wind, let actions serve in their place - Dire would not fail his Master.
Arexa:
Arexa's grip on Sahara released at Dire's very last words, there was such a deadly silence, such a chilled moment where nothing was spoken, no indication given, merely arms which folded across the Grand Inquisitor's chest, hidden in those deep black robes. Dire's words, though simple, not well pronounced were quite well understood by the old relic of a once great power, of a once great time.
It was being like Arexa who had shaped the Galactic Empire in the massive cruel unyielding body that it was. In the days since it had crumbled and failed she longed to see the Imperial Remnant restored.
She laughed finally, such a deep, sickening rumble of laughter. One which only spoke the weight of what was to come was not going to be pleasant.
"Lord Furos is a fool. A non-force user could survive him. That you managed to escape him is no great glory. I'm more interested in the way you ruthlessly murdered the innocents in the farmhouse, the way the children looked in your eyes as you killed their parents right infront of them." the Grand Inquisitor stated, turning about finally and focusing on Dire, his request to take his Master's punishment was going to be a bitter-sweet sacrifice.
"Very well Apprentice, I would have ordered your Master to kill you, to prove her loyalty to me. That someone so important to her would hold no restraint. " Arexa stated.
"So it shall be with you, Dire Oppress. Your oath, and your promise already given that you will not fail. You will go to the Aeneid System in the Outer Rim, there you will find that cur you call a father, a traitor to the darkside, and you will kill him. You will bring me back his head. Or you shall replace it with your own." Arexa snarled.
"If you fail in your task, the full weight of the Inquisition will rain down on you in a way that even Lord Furos could not show you in visions."
Arexa turned, pointing towards the circle on the floor where the lift had left them to begin with.
"Now both of you get out of my sight."
Dire:
The hulking mass of muscle waited as calmly as could be. Raging inferno within, subdued minion outside. Dire would take any punishment. It was not Sahara's to endure. The Zabrak had forced himself upon her life. Knowing a rebuke was in store for him, he instead focus on that biting, chilling laughter. Dire did not care or have any feeling regarding those he murdered simply for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Sahara required no witnesses. Cutting their lives short provided the solution to the problem he had been given. Striking him odd however where her thoughts on Lord Furos. The Grand Inquisitor was sadly mistaken. While he had yet to feel the brunt of the Crone's full power, he knew full well no ordinary being could survive where he had.
The chastening came more swift than he had thought it would. Expecting lightning or some other new strange Force power he had yet to be acquainted with. Instead it was a simple order. Kill his Father. What could the Nightbrother do? Without any visible reaction the words formed at the tip of his tongue. Lips parted seconds later, "Yes Grand Inquisitor."
Standing up just as rigidly as he had knelt, he returned to the platform. That glow in his eyes was once again tinged with the malevolence of the dark side. Coursing through his veins, empowering the already oppressive Dire, he held no grip on the Force. Instead it choose to manifest within him. The hatred and remorse at what he had accepted acting as a catalyst. The power it produced twisted his insides, burned the Zabrak hollow as he waited for Sahara to join him. The pain was overwhelming and yet there would be no grieving. The grim countenance said it all as the elevator began to lower.
The punishment was his to bear. Aenied system. Cur. Traitor. Savage a traitor? The fires that burned in his eyes grew greater. Saying nothing to Sahara, he would follow her wherever she took him.
Sahara:
Sahara limped from the wall towards where Dire had gathered, she didn't look towards Arexa, no, that much would only likely infuriate the powerful being, Arexa wasn't a woman argued with, or questioned, she was one that merely spoke command and saw it followed immediately.
Sahara glimpsed towards Dire who wouldn't look to her, didn't speak, the only relief the two had was when the lift descended, taking them from Arexa's immediate presence and lowering them back through the Citadel.
In the time that had taken during everything, a vessel had been prepared, left in the place of their former vessel, standardly stocked with everything Sahara's other vessel had, save for the few personal items she had managed to keep before.
Sahara didn't say anything to Dire, kept that pretense of Master and Apprentice, even if further personal details were already known to the Grand Inquisitor.
The two headed back out the way they came, and into the vessel. Sahara hit the switch to close the rear hatch, letting it seal before she headed to the cockpit, taking her seat she checked over everything, systems, mechanicals, supplies, they were all good and it wasn't long before the new sleek courier lifted off and as expediently as could be done, left the system.
Only then did she swivel her seat around and embraced Dire, hugging him ever so tight. Despite everything, despite the dreaded task Dire had been given, they had a great victory. They both had survived.
She looked to his glowing eyes and repeated the words he'd given her in the beginning.
"We Survive."
Dire:
The rite of passage was a terrible burden to uphold. An abomination unrivaled. Shriveled old Crone probably hooted at the idea of son surpassing Father by killing him and having his head delivered on a platter. Would she gorge herself on the emotions that plagued the Zabrak's mind? Grim throughout the procession through the citadel complex, with only the dull thuds of his heavy plated boots to accompany them, he ascended the ramp with little fanfare. Survival was paramount and an astute practitioner would see the effects it had on Dire.
Strapping himself in beside his Master, he gave no voice to the dreadful pain he bore. Hiding it from the presence at the back of his mind. Aboard their new vessel, with seats that could easily hold the size of the Nigthbrother, he leaned back and relaxed tense muscles. Gathering the swelling energies of the Dark side, he held onto them, a ring of fire surround his sulfurous gaze. Wherever it touched, it seemed to burn and sear.
Relinquishing all that energy when they left Prathik, he looked out into the vastness of space. Aenied system. Where in that jumbled mass of stars was that? Where would his journey end? How had his Father betrayed the Dark side? Casting his cruel glare on Sahara as she hugged him, he wrapped his muscular arms around her. Squeezing tightly.
"Told Master. We survive." Acting as though it where nothing, he released her and looked into her eyes, "Train. Savage powerful. I," he pointed at himself, "more powerful. Need train."
The one thing that could always be counted on to distract him from his feelings. Training. Mastering the Force. Easing himself out of the chair, he began walking towards the room that had been set aside for his training. Whether it lightsaber technique or control over the Force itself and some new technique, Dire was already forming his battle strategy. Savage would be a vicious, ruthless opponent - having lived just as Dire once had, the edge would be who had mastery over the Dark side of the Force.
Sahara:
Sahara nodded to Dire's deep rumbling tones. His arms releasing her as he moved to leave the cockpit, stating his need to train. She looked to those deep reflective eyes as she watched him go, he didn't have to say it, she already knew what he felt. Those lingering effects from their bond gave her a sickening feel in her stomach as she watched him disappear into the rest of the ship.
Sahara sat for awhile in the cockpit, leaving Dire to train and practice the routines she'd given him, adapting the ships controls over to be more like it's predecessor she finally got up and headed into the rest of the ship.
She stepped from the small lift out into the corridor, her eyes glimpsing along the short expanse before she walked along, heading to the cargo area where Dire usually trained, it was the largest room on the ship, capable of allowing the massive Zabrak to move unhindered for a bit.
Her eyes lingered on him as she took a seat on one of the metal storage containers that was strapped down, secure, watching the hulking male train she folded her arms across her chest, contemplating as she finally spoke, interrupting Dire's focus.
"You don't have to do it. I will leave the Inquisition."
Dire:
With that lead ball in his gut, he made his way through the corridor. Each thumping step bringing him nearer his goal. There was a deep peace to the towering Zabrak. Having a goal. Something to concentrate on. Dire never needed anybody. Feeling the angst within himself, he hardened his resolve as he strode into the cargo area. Crates lined the walls, netting to hold them in place, he made his way forward. Those glowering eyes seemed less alive. Far away and distant. There was no stretching for the behemoth who immediately ignited his saber and begin going through the various lightsaber forms. Slowly at first, feeling through each movement, becoming more and more graceful and elegant with each step taken. Coming full circle, feet superbly placed he began moving quicker, faster, harder.
By the time Sahara made her way back to check on his progress, the Nightbrother's crown would be glistening in sweat. Tiny droplets formed rivulets in between his horns. The red glare of the saber deepened the lines the scowl, pronouncing each grimace, every growl and grunt as it came out. Several large crates where also floating and that dark, sinister Force seemed to ebb and flow through the gargantuan figure. The technique had grown more complex, weaving through several different forms, constantly adapting and changing, creating the illusion of moving one direction and striking in the complete opposite. Even then he never fell into a pattern, remaining completely unpredictable as he fused the forms into his own amalgamation of everything he had been taught by the Inquisitor.
The rage that coursed through him was the core of his power, the very essence that drove him towards perfection. Surrounding it was the unmistakable dark power she had shown him, opened his eyes too, empowering every bold stroke of that saber, keeping his concentration attuned to the crates as they levitated. He began stacking them in mid-air before she spoke. Without breaking his stride, he set all the crates down in a pyramid shape. Clicking his saber off, he hung it on his belt and looked to his Master with a searing glare.
"No."
Sahara:
Sahara's perch was upon one of these very crates, slowly floating around Dire as he manipulated them with the Force, her eyes were ever upon him save for when one of the others passed between them.
When they were stacked into a pyramid, she sat on the very peak, looking to the Zabrak as he turned his saber off and clipped it back on before looking to her with a glare. She was not certain when she heard Dire's booming voice, cutting through the silence like a hot knife through butter.
"Then you want this?" she asked him.
Dire:
The Zabrak stood for a full minute without saying anything. Besides those sulfurous orbs and heaving chest there was nothing to signal that he was even alive. Through their bond she might feel the tingle of emotions that ran through the Nightbrother. To Dire there was no choice. Word was given. Instead of Sahara being told to kill him, he had to kill the one person that had started this entire jaunt into the galaxy.
"No." Those deep, husky tones filled the chamber. "Will. I must." Dire had caused all the trouble in the first place. Now that he was aligned with the Dark side of the Force and had allied himself with Sahara and the Inquisition, there was no going back. "This what we do Master. We hunt. Kill."
That his first would be his Father was ... jarring. An unspeakable pain and loss at having to kill the man who had given him life; but who had also abandoned him to the Witches on Dathomir. Dire would do what he would have to do and she would feel that resolve harden, even as the emotions tried to strip it away from him, make him doubt himself. Dire's gaze never left the Inquisitor's, unsure of where she was going with this.
Sahara:
Sahara rose from her seat, stepping down the pyramid she touched the deck beneath them, slowly approaching Dire as she looked at those hardened eyes, that resolve, but the pain behind it. Such a harsh brutal task he had been given, perhaps it was the true way of the Sith, to ensure loyalties were to the Master and not to the emotional bindings.
Sahara knew how Dire had longed to find his father, that their reunion would be one of death was another thing entirely. She felt for him, perhaps due to her emotional affection for the Zabrak did she even really care. Her fingers brushed along his jaw, lightly touching against his cheek as she looked to those eyes and leaned to him, pressing her lips next to his on his chin.
"I wouldn't have killed you." she told him in but a whisper, drawing back, looking to his eyes and then turning, starting to walk away from him.
Dire:
The Nightbrother stood as tense as a post while Sahara inspected his tattooed visage. Feeling the warmth of her kiss, he kept his golden gaze locked and stern.
Her hulking brute caught her around the stomach with his hand. That hardened frame turning and pressing the metal plates against her back. Picking her up with his one arm around her stomach, he pressed his lips against her ears, "I know. Grand Inquisitor kill us both. Cannot allow." Setting her down with a few harsh breaths he released his hold over her much smaller frame and gave her a rough shove in the direction she had been walking.
With her scent filling him once again, he felt energized. Emotions where the bane of Dire. True he fed on them, drew his considerable power from them, but they ultimately failed him. Only his anger and hatred kept him alive. Saw him through any obstacle. This would be no different he told himself. Kill or be killed. Savage ... was a traitor.
What was the brute to say? A barbarian had no use for emotions. An engine of destruction and awesome power. The Grand Inquisitor could not belittle him. Dire knew just how menacing his Father had been. To catch the eye of the Grand Inquisitor, he must be great indeed.
"Why Savage traitor?"
Sahara:
It was true, Sahara would have died for Dire. She would have refused the Grand Inquisitor's command and in doing so would have killed them both. At least in doing so Dire would have known she had been true to him. True to her word, perhaps she understood Dire's response now. Her body was seized, pulled back against Dire's chest as he held her there, pressing his lips against her ear, the feeling was comforting for the slightest of moments before the Zabrak shoved her forward, sending her back in her direction she was going, him following right behind her.
His question came as no surprise, though Sahara did not have the answer, at least, to her knowledge of current.
"I don't know." she told Dire, glimpsing over her shoulder towards those curious eyes. " Lets find out." she told him. Certainly there would be a file awaiting them in the computer regarding their mission.
She led him towards the lounge section of the ship, a small little sofa and a view screen across from, there she could access the information her mate so seeked. Once they were upon it, she pushed Dire down, sitting him there while she slumped next to him, curled slightly against his chest while she took his wrist, the one she'd mounted a similar control pad upon, she lightly tapped at the controls, accessing the computer interface and beginning to pull up the files.
Dire:
Dire knew Sahara to be true. The Inquisitor had never joked with him before. Deadly serious. His Master had offered to leave her home just so he could avoid killing his father - which would more than certainly put them in even greater peril. The Inquisition wasn't someone Dire wanted after him - not after being in the presence of the Grand Inquisitor. One day he would wield enough power to dethrone her and make her pay - but that day wasn't today and so today he must be an obedient slave.
Thudding behind her, he nodded his great horned head, the red rings around his eyes disappearing and giving way to that glowering look he wore so well. Grim set face he would have stopped, but as was the case with most things, his Master pushed him into the comforts of the sofa. Curling against him, he still wasn't used to this behavior or even mildly comprehending of it.
Dire had been curious about the control pad. Never accessing it himself. While his fingers appeared clumsy, the interface made him uncomfortable. Watching intently he turned his eyes to the viewscreen waiting to see what information Sahara would pull up. At the same time, he moved an armored arm around her body, clasping his fingers at her hip.
Ever silent, he waited with growing apprehension. What had Savage done? Why? ... Why did he leave Dire all those years ago?
Sahara:
Sahara pulled up the information file on Savage Oppress. The pictorial resemblance to Dire was uncanny. She almost had to take a glimpse at Dire and then back to the screen before she relaxed in the arm of the massive Zabrak. Her fingers kept tapping at the controls on his wrist, scrolling down to the events that the Inquisition knew for certain, little bits of information from all over the Imperial Network. Such a comprehensive database of everything, it put the archives of the Jedi Order to shame.
Speaking of the Jedi Order.
"It appears Savage was coerced to the Jedi order around the time that your uncle was killed on Tattooine." she told Dire. " That explains the traitor part." she commented.
"These entries are somewhat old entries, but it appears that he lives on Aeneid." she told Dire, thumbing to the picture of a slight snapshot with a hulking Zabrak in the background, only a side shot visible, but it appeared to match Savage's appearance quite well.
Dire:
A Sith and a Jedi. The Skywalker's had managed somehow, so too could the Opress' dynasty. Staring up at the picture of his Father, he could tell the little nuisances that made him different. The tattoos where nearly identical. Unable to read the information as quickly as Sahara was able to he missed a great deal of it, though the Inquisitor filled him in on the important bit.
"Savage kill Uncle with Jedi?" The thought was puzzling. As menacing a warrior as there ever was - why give that all up? There had to be more to it. Retracting his arm from around Sahara, he leaned back, none of it making any sense. There was no way to place the information obtained by the Inquisition next to the information gleamed from the Nightsisters.
Seeing the most recent photo of his Father, he committed it to memory. Even his earliest memories of his Father had faded away, dissolving into nothingness. No images. Only a voice. Like the one that had appeared just before their last ship crashed. Still struggling with the idea, the Nightbrother would have kept his silence, save for a single question, "More?"
What was in the Aeneid system? Why was he there? Where their more Jedi? More training he told himself. Need more training.
Sahara:
"It doesnt' say that specifically." She told Dire, glimpsing to him as he retracted his arms, the look of confusion settling on him, a look she'd seen several times already.
"It's likely he joined them after your uncle was killed. " she told Dire. Then again Dire's own bloodline never hesitated to betray another of their kin, Sahara couldn't really say.
She looked to him once more as he questioned for further information, she tapped a few times on Dire's wristband, sending all the information, and pictures of his Father's file into his wristband, replacing the screen's information with that of the planet. Some outer rim world, nothing specifically grand about it, so far out of the way that it was no wonder he had been able to hide there this long.
"Your father's file is lengthy, I'll let you read when you have time. " she told him, lightly stroking his arm. "I'll leave your interface active with the computer so you can look up anything you want." she told him.
Dire:
Feeling her eyes boring into him, questioning his confusion and his blood, he said nothing. The shame was too great. It was true Dire had betrayed the Witches, would have betrayed Sahara and will ultimately betray his Father ... in truth he didn't see himself as anything but loyal. How long had he lasted at the Nightsister Temple, enduring, surviving, waiting for someone who would never come?
Feeling the last few taps and the green indicator light that signaled a successful data transfer, he shut the connection off. Most of it was illegible to the Zabrak anyway. "No want." He saidfinally, getting up, pushing Sahara to the side, he regarded the blank screen, picturing the way his Father looked before turning his back on it and looking at the lounging form of his Master.
"Doesn't matter. Kill." The look of determination, mingled with that of his never ending hatred, gave away his resolve. The emotions where their, nagging, insistent that he not give up faith. Faith had led him no where. Hope was an illusion. Dire survived and that was how he got by. No one came to his rescue on Dathomir. All those broken promises, all those knives in the back. Still he found some way to trust Sahara - would she too end up being a costly mistake? It didn't matter.
He strode for the room, the footsteps heard as he made for their quarters instead of the training room.
