#sith application denied

[the-most-humble-blog]

<div style="white-space:pre-wrap"> <meta sith-candidate-status="disqualified"> <script> ARCHIVE_TAG="SITH_APPLICATION_DENIED::DARTHPLAGUEIS_LITERACY_REQUIRED" EFFECT: dark side delusion purge, force fantasy humiliation, midichlorian satire overload TRIGGER_WARNING="fandom desecration, lore elitism, application rejection, Palpatine PTSD" </script>

🧠 BLACKSITE SCROLLTRAP — “SO YOU WANNA BE A SITH? LOL OKAY.”

You ever hear the story of Darth Plagueis the Wise?

No?

Then pack your little Sith cosplay and get the hell out.

You just failed the first question on the dark side exam. There are three rules to applying for Sith apprenticeship:

Know the story of Darth Plagueis.

Say it back in a creepy whisper.

Never blink when doing it.

You blinked during the question. You Googled the story. You pronounced “Plagueis” like “Plague-ass.”

Application denied.

—

Let’s not pretend you’re special.

You’re not the heir to a secret Sith bloodline. You’re not the chosen one. You’re not even chosen adjacent.

You once got called “menacing” on Tinder and now you think you’re ready to kill your master?

Bro, you cried when Netflix canceled Daredevil. You can’t even handle your WiFi cutting out— and you want to wield ancient Force hatred without flinching?

—

Let’s do a quick diagnostic:

📋 Childhood trauma? ⛔️ Nope. You just didn’t get a PS5 for Christmas.

📋 Hate in your heart? ⛔️ Mostly toward your ex and people who spoil anime.

📋 Ruthless ambition? ⛔️ You applied for this with a cover letter that said “just vibes.”

Bro you failed the Sith Rorschach test by seeing a cat in every inkblot.

You’re not a dark lord. You’re a LARPing disappointment in a red bathrobe.

—

What’s your name? Kyle? Tyler? Zane?

No Sith in galactic history was named Zane.

You want to strike fear into the galaxy with that?

“My lord… it’s Darth Zane.”

No. No it’s not.

You sound like a vape-sponsored Twitch streamer who owns a replica saber and a fedora collection.

—

Let’s talk résumé.

You’ve rage quit Call of Duty. You once punched a wall because your UberEats was late. You cussed out your mom for unplugging your Xbox mid-duel.

Impressive.

If this were the Sith Daycare Division maybe we’d let you in.

But this is the real Order. And you’re a force-choking liability.

—

Palpatine didn’t rise from nothing with a dream board and iced coffee.

He manipulated an entire senate. He engineered a galactic war. He wore a cloak that smelled like lightning and betrayal.

And you?

You get winded walking up stairs. You get emotional during TikToks. You cried when Grogu left.

You think that's dark energy?

Nah. That’s middle-school depression with extra steps.

—

Let’s talk powers.

You fantasized about Force lightning. But couldn’t even handle static shock from a hotel doorknob.

You tried Force choking your ex. All you did was text her “k.” Then spiral for three weeks.

Your dark side “training” consisted of:

Scowling in the mirror

Doing push-ups after breakups

And posting cryptic quotes like “A lion doesn’t lose sleep over sheep… unless he’s lactose intolerant” or some sh*t.

—

Let’s talk lineage.

The Sith take bloodlines seriously. They trace their roots through centuries of betrayal, death, and Force-fueled orgies.

You? Your family can’t trace their DNA past Ancestry.com.

No one in your bloodline has ever ruled a room, let alone a planet.

Your dad’s a pharmacist. Your mom sells LuLaRoe. Your great uncle cried at a chili cook-off.

The Force doesn’t run through your blood. It avoids it.

—

Here’s a checklist of actual Sith qualities:

✅ Willingness to kill your master ✅ Mastery of deception, manipulation, and Force abuse ✅ Ability to monologue with thunder crashing behind you ✅ Face must look like you’ve aged in reverse through rage ✅ Zero friends, maximum influence

You?

��� Uses “💀💅” in text arguments ❌ Apologized to your cat after raising your voice ❌ Only rage-murdered in The Sims ❌ Thinks Darth Maul “could get it” but still spells his name “Mole” ❌ Flinches at Jumpscares in Minecraft

—

Let’s be honest.

You’re not Sith.

You’re Sith-adjacent. Like a barista at a Sith-run Starbucks. You make the lattes. We make the deaths.

—

Try these instead:

Become a Dark Side influencer. (Use the hashtag #SithButMakeItSexy)

Run a podcast called “Force Ghosted: Tales of Rejection”

Get a kyber crystal, name it Kevin, tell people you “vibe together”

Apply to the Empire as a Stormtrooper (you’ll miss anyway)

Or just…

Try therapy.

The Force is probably not your issue. You just never unpacked the time your crush ignored your meme reply.

—

Sith rejection isn’t personal. It’s planetary.

You’re not our kind of evil. You’re just Twitter mean.

The galaxy doesn’t need another emotionally constipated villain with a lightsaber and daddy issues.

We’ve got enough of those already.

—

🧠 Read more Sith-denied doctrine, Force rejection scrolltraps, and kyber crystal shaming at: 👉 https://linktr.ee/ObeyMyCadence 🛡️ Lore desecration. Villain therapy. Star Wars fandom correction. 🚪 Warning: May cause saber envy, ego combustion, and dark side dysmorphia.

📊 SITH APPLICATION REJECTION STATS 📊

Sith Lords approved this quarter: 0.002%

Applicants who couldn’t spell “Sith”: 31%

Midichlorian delusions per hour: 700

Lightsabers broken in anger: 403

Mothers disappointed: 100%

Darths created from this form: still zero

</div> <!-- END TRANSMISSION [YOU’RE NOT EVIL. YOU’RE JUST INSECURE.] -->

[astromachy77]

Marriage in the Reconstituted Sith Empire and the Jedi Order post-KOTOR

Daniel Erickson wrote about this on the pre-launch forums:

Easy to give the official answer. But first let's make sure we're all on the same page. Cultures change over time. They move one way then another, values shift, influxes of new peoples or discoveries change what is considered normal, etc. So if we're strictly talking about TOR then arguments based on things that happened thousands of years earlier or later aren't really applicable except to compare and contrast. Our views on modern marriage are not those of ancient Rome, and I doubt in 3,000 years they will be the same. So let's talk about where Jedi and Sith during the time period of The Old Republic.

For the last two hundred years the Jedi Order has been getting steadily more conservative. The liberalization that was necessary to restock the Jedi's numbers in the century after the events of Knights of the Old Republic II is now looked back on as a necessary evil. In the time that followed there were a number of terrible Dark Jedi who emerged as warlords and worse.

The two factors that showed up the most often in analysis of what caused Jedi to fall were unorthodox training methods and romantic entanglements. Thus in the following centuries training became more orthodox, with a return to the Jedi Order's earlier traditions. Which Masters were allowed to train padawans (and which could train more than one at once) became more restrictive and romance became one of the most guarded against emotional weakness. As the game opens it is possible to get married as a Jedi but it requires a lengthy process of approval including from the Jedi Council itself. A couple must prove beyond a shadow of a doubt they are both able to handle the strain romantic couples can endure. All children of Jedi are taken from them and raised by the Jedi as a whole, the same as other Force users in the Republic.

For the last thousand years the Sith Empire has needed stability and growth more than anything else. That means alliances that prevent power struggles. It means encouraging the creation of more children. Which in turn means marriage and a focus on family.

Where once the individual was judged largely alone, bloodlines are now incredibly socially important. A Sith from a long line of powerful Sith will find his path through the Academy easier, his opportunities increased. A family with no Force-users who suddenly find themselves with a Force-sensitive child will sacrifice everything they have to get them martial training and mental discipline coaches - for if that child passes the Academy and becomes Sith the entire family will rocket to the penultimate social class in Imperial society, side by side with moffs and governors, second only to Sith themselves.

Marriage among the Sith is usually between only two people and is often to forge a political alliance. Marriages of love do happen often among the lower ranked Sith but decrease the closer the Lord is to the top of the pyramid-shaped power structure. Marriages between Sith and non-Sith are rare as the Sith believe it dilutes the chance of a Force-sensitive offspring. It is a common, though unspoken of practice, for Sith parents to kill a non Force-sensitive offspring and deny it ever existed, claiming the baby was stillborn, etc. A Sith with openly non Force-sensitive offspring is believed to be admitting the thinness of the blood in his or her family line.

Adultery is common among the Sith but officially illegal. Divorce is strongly frowned upon but killing one's spouse for adultery or any other provable offense is socially acceptable. The one time you see obligatory divorce is when a member of the Dark Council breaks a couple apart to stop the assimilation of too much power in one place.

[heretolurkandnothingmore]

WIP Wednesday

My first time participating! This is a snippet from my long-languishing Obikin fic about an accidental marriage through alien tattoo application. Among other things.

This part is from what should be Chapter 2, where Obi-Wan, Anakin and Ahsoka go undercover at a gala full of mobsters to try and catch a corrupt politician's criminal allies.

The gala enveloped them in a glittering, murmuring embrace of crystal and pearl. The clothing was extravagant, but beneath the flowing gowns and shawls hands tipped in exchange of messages, whispers and signs reached their targets and the Force thrummed with anticipation and danger - the manifold sound of an orchestra tuning their instruments.

To a knowing eye, it was clear which partygoer cast their lot with the Reds or the Blues. Overtones of crimson, carmine, mauve contrasted in the crowd with periwinkle and navy. Obi-Wan watched the flitting crowd and noted the key figures filling the board the night would be played on - Red, Blue, unaffiliated. He waited for his mark to arrive.

His eyes deliberately didn't seek out Anakin. He didn't need to. Their bond hummed in the back of his mind like a living thing. The inked Mark on his shoulder tingled with warmth of Anakin's soul touching his. There was no reason to come closer, no matter what Obi-Wan may want. What he shouldn't want.

It would break their cover to be seen together, anyway. Not to mention another glance at the young man's luminous A memory of helping Anakin with the cufflinks rose, unbidden. The remembered intensity in that gaze stirred something in him all over again, and Obi-Wan had to busy himself with a wine glass from the nearby buffet table.

"Damn," he heard through the bond. It took some fortitude not to whip around to look at Anakin.

Obi-Wan took a sip from the glass and let his gaze drift across the room. His former apprentice was on the other end, eating some sort of tart-shaped appetizer and looking pleased with himself. His voice rumbled low in Obi-Wan's mind.

"Master, try the food. You're tired of rations, too. Don't deny it."

Obi-Wan succeeded in not rolling his eyes and obeyed, grabbing a morsel off a passing waiter's tray. He bit into it with a startling crunch - and understood perfectly what Anakin meant. A striking taste, somehow both sweet and savory and unlike anything he's ever tried flooded his mouth. He exhaled slowly, savoring the moment. Anakin was right, they so rarely got to try new food.

He realized he was projecting his satisfaction through the bond and tried to repress a smile at the gentle tug of affection he was getting in return.

"Good?" Anakin asked, smugly.

"Very."

"I see you're enjoying the spoils of a criminal lifestyle."

"Don't gloat. They may be criminals, but you can't deny the civilized life can be enjoyable"

Suddenly, a cold presence in the Force enveloped him. Not like a trained Jedi or Sith feeling their way around, just the oppressive emptiness of a soul that has long since severed the connections even the most feral of creatures feel to the world around them. A black hole.

"Red lackey to your left." Anakin's voice broke through the sickening spell. "He's got the mark."

Obi-Wan turned, pretending to follow a woman in a indigo dress flowing past him. To his left, there stood a stranger. A man in a dark grey cape over a basic dark suit. At first he seemed like another hired muscle, but his cape was high-quality. A pair of silver embroidered wings peeked out from its inner lining. The man's cufflinks glittered with pale red crystals set into more silver. And Anakin was right, for right there, around the stranger's ear, bleeding into his ginger hairline, was the telltale crimson beak of the Reds' mark. A hawk's head.

The stranger turned, and for a second the yellowish frostbite of his gaze burrowed into Obi-Wan. It was paralyzing. Like a long-dead creature reaching into him with fingers of ice and greedy interest.

Obi-Wan's own Mark suddenly flared with heat and the stranger's gaze flicked past him at last - and across the room. Onto Anakin.

The man smiled.

[synoxshots]

For the OTP couple questions:

What, specifically, was the catalyst for their physical attraction (if applicable) to the other character? In other words, what in particular had them like “Oh, they’re…hot…” For Yalla’ra/Theron, please.

thank you!

For Yalla'ra it was probably when she went to rescue Theron from the Revanites' compound, only to meet him running out, all guns blazing...there had been casual flirting before like she tends to do with her friends, and she had recognised that he was good looking, but in that moment she was just like, oh damn, that was actually really hot, then subsequently felt guilty and went about trying to repress that feeling 😅

Theron felt it earlier, all forms of his attraction came earlier really, but by the time he went into hiding and had gotten to Rishi he was already at the point of trying to put it all to one side like, it's just a silly crush because she's hot and flirts a bit and makes you laugh, and you've been stuck with a sith, a wookiee and a droid for months now, you'll get over it. And then she turns up on Rishi with her abs out and it's a mission to not be distracted by that...it might not have been the catalyst for his physical attraction, but it was probably the moment he really couldn't deny it to himself any more

[soclonely]

The Tangled Tookas

If it isn’t obvious by now, my favorite part of the star wars universe isn’t the jedi or clones, senators or bounty hunters. The thing that really gets me hooked is imagining the every day people in this galaxy. The tired old man running a bar in the city, the little girl on Ryloth playing when all of a sudden her village is invaded by droids, the single mother trying to provide for her family.. This is just a small blurp of a dream I had last night and I wanted to share it. It may not be A jedi fighting some sith, or a clone trooper with his brothers, but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless.  The Tangled Tookas- A small fish and chips stand and market on one of the many boardwalks in Coruscant run by a 32 year old Haiseva kalastaa, Haisy for short. Its a small shop, but you can easily find it by its logo of two neon outlined tookas tangled up in a fishing net, reaching for a fish outside. Her ex husband, a Nautolan named Koondi, left her and their twin boys Par and Jeyd to join a group of traders (see: criminals) and travel the galaxy, running away from his responsibilities. Haisy is just your typical citizen trying to make her way through this war the best she can. ----------------------------------------------------- Haisy wiped the sweat from her brow and took a step back. “Looks like we are ready for business!” she says to herself, smiling. It had been almost 2 years since the Clone Wars started, and 9 months since Koondi left the family to fend for themselves in a galaxy of turmoil. “Boys stop!” Haisy rushes over to her two twin boys fighting over their lunch. “Par stop biting your brother! And Jeyd! THAT’S NOT WHERE THAT GOES PUT IT DOWN NOW!” She separates the two boys and they laugh, taking off chasing one another out into the boardwalk. Haisy sighs and sits down. “Oh what was I thinking?” She laughs, shaking her head. “Trying to herd those two boys and run a business. Ahh well.” When her husband was around, they were still a struggling family. Not as bad as the last few months, but close enough. When Koondi left to fulfill his own life’s dreams of wandering the galaxy, he may have gotten the freedom, but Haisy got all of the family recipes for goober fish and chips, and with that her former In-Laws support. With their help, she was able to get the materials she needed to sell baskets of orders out of her house daily. But with two boys running around like wild tookas in a cramped one bedroom apartment, and the growing popularity of her fish, she needed more room. That’s when a friend of hers directed her to the Republic’s Civilian Affairs Office. They apparently had a program to help business owners like her take off. Only catch is you had to be willing to be deemed a “clone establishment”. Haisy had no problem serving the troopers, she didn’t have anything against them. Its the war and taxes taking all of her money. However, with the way many of the civilians felt toward them, she was wary to put her precious fish and chips stand in the same category as “clone troopers”. That’s a sure way to lose business around Coruscant. But at this point, she couldn’t afford to not try. So, after many denied applications, meetings with a case worker and business managers, and tweaking of plans… The Tangled Tookas was born! It was amazing how quickly it had come together. The space was set: nothing big- just a small little window with two worn down tables outside. But the location was good, right on one of the busiest spots of the boardwalk near the entertainment district! With a little elbow grease, Haisy and her two boys had the place looking like new in no time! A new sign, named in honor of her own little wild fish loving, street running “tookas”, some curtains, and you wouldn’t have even guessed it was run down a few days prior.To some, this didn’t mean much. But to Haisy and her boys this was survival; a chance at a better life. “Hello!” The door jingled and a petit blue twi’lek girl popped her head in, followed by an older, balding man holding a cigar. “Hi! We heard a new clone establishment was opening and wanted to welcome you to the family!” The girl smiles, handing a small basket of goodies over to Haisy. “I am Lenani! A bartender over at 79s in the entertainment district! And this here is Tom, the owner!” She says proudly. Tom gives a small nod and says. “We’ve heard a lot about your fish and chips. Are ya open for business? Wouldn’t mind tryin’ it if ya are.” The tired mom smiles and sets the basket down on the ground near her chair. “Of course! I would be honored. I am Haisy and welcome to the Tangled Tookas!”

[shimmersing]

Summary: Aitahea is wakeful as the Luminous and her crew travel to the captured Republic ship Progress. Characters: Aitahea Daviin, Jedi Consular Setting: The consular ship Luminous; after Best Intentions Spoilers: End of Consular Chapter 1

My legs quiver a little as I descend the last few stairs to the cargo bay, peeking through to the engine room where Qyzen often takes advantage of the sublight engine’s droning to assist his meditations. I prefer silence or subtle music; no ship has never been musical to me. The Luminous is home and work and part of my life, but never the same as a living being. Not like Tember insists her No Promises is, though my sister would deny the influence of the Force in the same breath that she would insist her ship had a ‘heart.’ That we keep in touch at all being a Jedi and a smuggler, how might that unfold without a guiding hand?

My steps slow even further. Our work has been taxing, to say the least. I’m hungry for rest, real refreshing sleep, but it eludes me in an unusually subtle manner. I do all our prescribed Jedi practices. The breathing. The focus. The mindfulness. Peace. Knowledge. Serenity. Harmony. But my memory falters and skips, my own words dripping like the lines of the Sith Code, which I have read many, many times yet cannot commit to memory. The words refuse to stay mine, and again I fear that I’ve forgotten something valuable.

I reach the crafting console. Tharan and Holiday retired hours ago, even though they keep Nar Shaddaa time. I consider whether they would consider this early or late. On Tython, it would be before dawn at the Jedi Temple, just a blush of color at the horizon being shamed by the glitter of the wild palimpsest of light that glowed from the Deep Core. On Alderaan, dawn was a glittering burst of sunlight most of the year, though during summer the humidity set the evening sky ablaze, and rainbow fractals would slowly fade into starlight.

I sort idly through the materials we’ve collected, organizing them into appropriate bins, jars, boxes, or drawers. It keeps me busy for only a few moments as there’s so little to do. My companions are conscientious and keep the ship tidy, with little additional fussing from See-Too.

My fingers drift to the keypad, out of habit opening my inbox to check for messages. I sigh. I’ve meant to stop doing this during sleeping hours. If there’s an emergency it’ll come through See-Too, and he’ll see that I’m woken and responding. Most of the time when that’s about to happen I’m already awake, or at least aware, cognizant of some impending shift already echoing through the Force. I am always awake, at some level.

I close the application without looking at the display, avoiding the characters that could spell out disaster… or perhaps rest? Impending, cries the Force within me, and I rush to embrace it, willing it to wait, to gentle, to give me just a little more time. Only a little.

I am not ready. But there is no more time.

I am afraid, so I use it to sharpen my focus, bring my surroundings into stark relief. And then I release it. This is key. Yet. Always yet. Let go.

When the main holo chimes through the Luminous, I blink back to the present, frowning as I realize the auxiliary galactic map has opened, resolving on an unfamiliar sector. Two ships hang in the black. Ours, Luminous, and…

Progress. The ship Vivicar stole. Filled with our allies, Republic troopers he’d enslaved to his poisonous will.

My chest restricts again. I’d left Erithon on Alderaan less than a month before, seeking the end of this thread. Our communication is been sparse, our positions demanding more and more by the day. It was the reason I didn’t want to check for messages. If I check again and see nothing…

See-Too clangs as gently as possible against the bulkhead, following the noise with a quick apology, “I beg your pardon, Master, but we’ve arrived at the Progress. Shall I wake the others?”

I swallowed hard; my mouth was so dry.

“No.”

“Very well. You also have a call.”

“Thank you. I’ll take it in the common room.” I pat See-Too on a metallic shoulder as I slip by, leaving him making a bemused noise in my wake.

I assume the caller is Satele or Syo, aware of my arrival in much the same way I am, but when I load the holo, an armored trooper materializes before me. His helmet is under one arm and he runs a gloved hand through his hair.

It takes every molecule of strength I possess not to drop to the floor. Instead I smile, knowing the low-quality signal will hide the tremble in my lips.

“Hey, Jedi.”

“Hello, Lieutenant.”

[jeswii]

KotFE/KotET Headcanon Time!

@pauletta-00​ put out these questions and I was interested in answering even if I’m a little late. 

1. Who is your Outlander? How did they end up frozen for 5 years? Why did you make them the Outlander?

My main Outlander is Kel’raldo, LS Jedi Consular, who I swear at some point I’ll start putting out stories about her but I did want to finish writing it first. Freezing stayed pretty close to cannon after you deny Valkorion’s offer. I made them the Outlander because I really love the Consular story and the dynamic with her and Lana in a relationship.

2. What happened to the rest of the classes?

Oof, this is going to take a moment. 

First the characters that aren’t in the story and just assumed dead but I don’t have a plan: the Agent and Smuggler. 

In this world the Bounty Hunter (Igen’tabok) is her father and he’s kicking just fine but they don’t get along well. 

The Sith Inquisitor (Chaivo) and Kel’raldo met when they were both slaves on Nar Shaddaa and during the five years she goes into hiding to watch after her family after being extremely injured in battle.

The Sith Warrior (Jarrden Beniko) is Lana’s brother in this story and he goes underground after Ziost and turns to working in the shadows. He joins up with the Alliance when Vette does in Profit and Plunder.

The Jedi Knight (Diyu) and Kel’raldo have been training together since they were children and he was one of the first people when she met when she joined the order. He stayed with the Jedi for a while but after realizing for once he couldn’t one man army himself through this war he started to re-evaluate his stance. He goes lone wolf for a while but joins the alliance very early on.

The Trooper (Meliant Cophir aka Cop) stayed with Havoc and shows back up with Aric during Disavowed. Her, Diyu and Kel’raldo were all friends and worked a few missions together here and there before kotfe happened.

3. What about the companions?

Most of the companions follow the cannon returns, maybe with slight alterations. All except Tharan and Zenith. Both of them went hunting for Kel’raldo after Nadia started to get a weird feeling about it but couldn’t go on her own. They end up with Igen’tabok to track her down and join the alliance while it’s still under construction.

4/5. If applicable how do characters react if the Alliance joins the opposite faction? How do they react to being saboteur?

Kel’raldo joins back with the Republic as soon as she can on Iokath so no betrayals and saboteur-ing. Igen’tabok left before this happened, but Jarrden leaves after. Chaivo stays with the Alliance, but she has her reasons that will be a *mystery* for now.

6. How would your characters react if one of their companions is exiled or dead because of the Outlander’s choices?

The Vette/Torian choice doesn’t happen in this version of the story but other characters do end up dead. Kel’raldo reacts very deeply to almost every soldier she looses under her command as Commander, and it does lead to some conflict with other classes.

7. If you have something written, link it.

I haven’t published much about Kel’raldo but I did put out this one WIP where Lana and Kel’raldo sing karaoke. Find it here.

[legobiwan]

You once had a photo here, where all the Lineage (TM) members were Sith. Do you have any opinion about individual members? (I know we know what Dooku and Anakin turned out to be, but would they be different than in the canon?) Oh, who is the most dangerous and who is cinnamon roll?

Oh, interesting! I’m reading this as “how would the LINEAGE turn out if they were all Sith?”

Huh.

So I think to come to an answer, we’ll have to look at why they turn. I mean, we know why with Anakin, and we might know a bit more about Dooku’s motivations after finishing Jedi Lost, but what if it were different?

Let’s assume Yoda never turns, because as Dark Rendezvous reminds us, Yoda would just obliterate everyone from the galaxy with that kind of power if he went dark. Meaning we’ll start with Dooku, who was entranced by prophecy, who believed in his own superiority, who became disillusioned with the Council, who sought his own family and when he couldn’t get them sought a Lineage. Dooku turns, much as he did in canon, retaining most of the personality we have come to know and love. He’s pretentious, aristocratic, loves to teach, and prefers by and large to operate from the shadows. He also has a massive soft spot for his lineage, and - I would imagine - Obi-wan in particular.

Judging from what we are learning about Qui-gon (and honestly, I held this opinion even before the new material began to surface), had Dooku asked and had Qui-gon not been killed - I am firmly of the belief he would have joined Dooku…eventually. Qui-gon was such a hypocrite, professing to be following the Light but essentially stomping all over not only the Jedi Code, but common decency in his one-man quest to save the galaxy. And the thing about a Sith Qui-gon is that I feel he would be deeply in denial. “I’m not Sith,” he would say. He was merely altering the facts to be in sync with his ideals, right? Qui-gon would deny turning, would be possibly more self-righteous than Dooku that what he was doing was right, that he was working towards the greater good, that he could only follow the Light of the Force through the Darkness…and a few severed heads here and there that no one would remember wth the deft application of a Jedi Mind Trick.

Which leads us to Obi-wan. Now, in this reality, we will assume Obi-wan’s Padawanship went relatively normally (meaning, Qui-gon was a caring, but massive dick, and possibly Obi-wan had to be assigned to Qui-gon as a Padawan for mysterious reasons nu-canon hasn’t explained yet but might be related tangentially to some ghosts of Jedi Apprentice.) Let us also assume Qui-gon saddles Obi-wan with the child of prophecy again, not because it is his dying wish, but it is the last thing he says to him before leaving the Order. Which…essentially leaves Obi-wan is the exact same position he was at the end of TPM. Let us not forget that Obi-wan has already successfully Negotiated with Council, has killed a Sith, is a bad-ass pilot, and never says a damn word about it. In fact, he barely argues with Qui-gon, even in TPM, and even apologizes to Qui-gon for the older man being unreasonable in *that* Council Meeting. So we’re left with repressed!Obi-wan, an Obi-wan who, again, would need to prove himself as a Master and as a Jedi - to Qui-gon, to the Council, and to himself. He is a stickler for rules but still went behind Qui-gon’s back to override his decisions on Pijal. Obi-wan will take. you. out. with a polite greeting and half a smile. I’ve said this before and it bears repeating: he would be terrifying as a Sith.

Okay, so Obi-wan has turned, joining the growing ranks of our Sith!Lineage. Dooku takes a real shining to Obi-wan and his whole “civilized” persona, but there needs to be a referee around whenever Obi-wan and Qui-gon find themselves in the same room. Obi-wan admits fully to what he is, without glee, while Qui-gon still tries to justify his actions. Dooku likely thinks along more similar lines to Qui-gon, but doesn’t dare say so in Obi-wan’s presence. Someone besides him needs to be civilized around here.

Now, if Obi-wan falls, Anakin will follow soon after. Let’s assume Obi-wan turns during the war, it would take a mere grace of a breeze to cause Anakin to follow. But! This is an Anakin who - while Tatooine and the Sand People still happened, and while Palpatine was still being Palpatine - had not lost Padme yet. Or, at least, had not had that possibility dangled in front of him. So Anakin would bluster, Anakin would kill things, but here’s the thing - this Anakin had never had to contend with this Obi-wan. An Obi-wan who would take no shit, an Obi-wan who would be terrifying. Anakin never really wanted to be a Sith, he just wanted to save the people he loved. And in this scenario, they’re saved. So my bet would be on Anakin being the cinnamon roll of this new Sith Lineage.

Which leads us to Ahsoka. Now, if we extrapolate that Obi-wan and Anakin fall during the war, Ahsoka would follow Anakin. But, as we saw in the Mortis arc, Sith!Ahsoka is not consumed with guilt like Anakin, she just went in for the kill. And this makes me believe that a turned Ahsoka might align herself with Obi-wan more as time went on, as Anakin’s heart isn’t really into “Sith-ing” and she wants to learn, wants to be the best. And since she knows Obi-wan is damn good at what he does, she follows him, picks up his habits (and perhaps a few of Dooku’s who sees this ambition and takes a liking to it as it reminds him of himself at that age.) And so Ahsoka is not someone to be trifled with, is probably the second-most dangerous after Obi-wan (as Dooku is every bit as dangerous as the two of them, but prefers not to dirty his hands.)

And so, our dysfunctional Lineage remains…well, dysfunctional. :D

[postedbygaslight]

You’ll Be the One to Turn - Part 20: The Tinkerer

I swear, all of this is for a reason.

As a quick refresher, you might want to go back to Chapter 10, because this chapter finishes the conversation General Hux had with the bounty hunter, Vyada Nil. You might also want to reread Chapter 13, where Kylo and Hux had a particularly tense encounter.

“Name your price.”

“The pretender’s lightsaber.”

Hux’s lips drew into a tight, thin smile.

“Done.”

“You’re awfully confident,” Nil said with an air of disinterest. “How do you intend to deliver?”

“Ren is a madman,” Hux said, lowering his voice even though, since he’d ordered Peavey and the troops into the transport, he and the hunter were the only people in the entire hangar. “Raging at shadows. Secluded. He rarely leaves his chambers.”

“But you need methods to neutralize his abilities.”

Hux grit his teeth and clicked his tongue.

“Sorcery and mummer’s slight,” he seethed. “But it’s damned effective, I’ll give him that.”

“Point a hundred blasters at him. He can’t block them all.”

“Very funny. Ren may be mad, but he’s not a fool. He won’t walk into an ambush unless he’s blinded by another concern.”

“The girl,” Nil asserted without hesitation.

“Yes. The girl.”

“Who is she to him?”

“She’s a nobody. A skittering sand rat Ren took a liking to before she opened up his face. Now he’s obsessed with vengeance, and insists he’s honor bound to deal with her himself.”

Nil regarded him with what Hux initially took for amusement, but her tone when she spoke was hard and knife-edged.

“And who are you to deny him his prize?”

Hux’s response was immediate.

“An opportunist.”

The corner of Nil’s mouth twitched into a slight smirk.

“What do you need from me?”

“The Jedi girl. Arrange for her to crawl out from whatever warren she’s been hiding in, and I’ll make sure Ren is there to stake his claim.”

“Draw her in as bait, then kill them both, is that it?”

“Do you have a better idea?”

The hunter’s eyes narrowed a moment.

“No.”

“That’s— I’ll be honest, I wasn’t expecting that answer.”

“It is as I’ve said. You are a liar and a coward. And a thief. And so you must be cunning.”

“You walk a very narrow line, hunter.”

“And you haven’t said all, General.”

“No. I haven’t,” Hux said, his tone sharpening. Contracting the hunter was an awful risk, but one Hux was more than willing to accept provided certain assurances. “If I deliver Ren to you, and you fail, I need some measure of surety.”

Nil didn’t react with umbrage, as Hux expected. She instead adopted the same cool, disaffected posture as she had since she’d finished her demonstration.

“Do you expect me to fail?”

“I expect you to perform as you’ve advertised,” Hux answered, almost lashing back at the towering figure. “But I also know Ren to be a formidable man. If you fail, he will come for me. And I will not die roasted on the end of a plasma spit or on my knees gasping for breath because a bounty hunter with a lightsaber couldn’t deliver on her boasts.”

Nil didn’t react. She stared down at him with those black, depthless eyes, and for a few seconds, Hux began to feel a slow crawl of terror coil in his throat. He didn’t think the hunter would be so bold or suicidal to try anything, but, at the same time, there was something about this woman that unnerved him to his foundations. Maybe that’s why he was so sure she could succeed.

The hunter stepped in closer, and Hux flinched. Nil spoke in an insistent, knowing tone that communicated experience. She projected cold efficiency. Hux knew a killer when he saw one, and this one was clothed in all the trappings of death. And more than that, she was driven by some bristling urgency that Hux couldn’t fully comprehend.

“Shield your thoughts. Project strong emotions. Fear. Hate. Anger. He is wed to the darkness and will sense these first. It will conceal your intentions.”

Nil paused, and unclipped a silver disc with rounded edges from a hidden firing chamber in her arm guard. She handed it to Hux.

“This will deprive him of his senses. But only for a moment,” she continued, and then slid one of her long, gloved fingers behind her ear, producing a small bluish device that emitted a constant, barely perceptible hum. “Place this behind one of your ears before you activate it. The rest is your doing.”

Hux took the hunter’s tools and pocketed them.

“You can collect your payment from his corpse. After it’s done, vanish.”

“Then we have a contract.”

“So we do,” Hux said, stepping away from Nil. He watched her as she returned to her ship, still wary, and didn’t return to the transport until she and her vessel were safely out of sight.

***

The hours after Hux discovered Ren in his personal suite, hovering over his private terminal, had been among the most panicked and unsettled of his life. He’d stood in the middle of the room for long minutes following Ren’s departure, blood still slamming through his limbs and neck as his heart refused to calm. But once he’d escaped his own spellbound paralysis, he’d found that he could scarcely keep from moving.

It wasn’t difficult to follow the track Ren had cut through the terminal’s security. The extent to which the Supreme Leader had discovered plans Hux had counted on remaining unnoticed gave the general cause to fear Ren might return at any moment to retract his earlier mercy. So, Hux set himself to the task of destroying what could be destroyed, hiding what could be hidden, and sorting through what remained.

Ren’s intrusion had forced Hux to make decisions that should have been weeks in the offing. The emitter stations. The command centers. The hybrid beam arrays. The new stormtrooper protocols. At least Ren hadn’t discovered the dossiers Hux had collected in his search for a suitable hunter. And that was another thing. He had left himself dependent upon this hunter for his next move. Without the Jedi girl as bait, he knew he’d never be able to spur Ren to the kind of mistake he’d need for his opening. Unless—

He thumbed the disc in his pocket.

He could do it. Place the right soldiers in the corridor leading to Ren’s chambers. Contrive some reason to require an audience. Use the hunter’s sonic tool. And put an end to this ludicrous farce for good. Sitting at his terminal, Hux tugged idly at the slip cord in the sleeve of his jacket. Just one flick of the wrist, a moment’s courage, and the First Order would have a new destiny.

He remembered the hunter’s words. Shield your thoughts. Project strong emotions. It will conceal your intentions. Ren inspired enough fear and hatred in him that he wasn’t concerned about suffering a deficit of either. But his intentions were so tied to those emotions that he somehow knew, at a fundamental level, that the Supreme Leader would anticipate the attack. No. Hux knew he would have to exercise some patience.

Ren only had a partial understanding of what Hux had set in motion over the previous months. At most, Ren knew that Hux had been requisitioning large kyber crystals. He likely knew that a massive kyber heart had been located and was on board. It was possible that he’d seen the early proposals for new Starkiller Bases. But, what Hux was sure of was that Ren had not seen beyond those initial proposals.

Ren had been right that Hux had ambitions beyond a Star Destroyer fleet and a standing army. But he’d been wrong about the shape of those ambitions. Hux didn’t want a new Starkiller. He wanted something far more durable.

It had been the dream of the ancient Sith to construct and wield a spacefaring mobile command center equipped with a weapon capable of destroying a planet. That dream had been realized by Emperor Palpatine, and had twice been dashed by a combination of rebel bravery, acts of treason, and the Emperor’s own hubris. Supreme Leader Snoke had thought he’d solved Palpatine’s primary error by designing a weapon that was both substantially better fortified than a mere space station, and produced a beam of kyber plasma that created its own hyperspace channels as it traveled. A fearsome, impressive machine that had been developed at no small cost.

That Starkiller Base ever existed at all was all the evidence Hux needed that miracles could be realized through force of will alone. The planet that became Starkiller had been selected for its size and the presence of a powerful magnetic dynamo in its core. The core had been penetrated and fitted with a kyber array that made the Death Star’s reactor sequence look like a handheld blaster. That kyber array, augmented by the powerful magnetic field, had allowed the planet itself to enter hyperspace, and nothing had ever compared, he thought, to the sensation of standing on solid ground, watching as the sky lensed away into warps of starlight and void-black.

But for all of its technological prowess, the destruction of Starkiller had been ten minutes’ work: the product of the twin defects of design overreach and poor planning. When the planet had been destroyed, no one wept, for no one truly lived there. And the weapon itself required such a massive amount of power storage that any small interruption in the energy diffusion would prove fatal. And, of course, that’s just what happened.

Armitage Hux envisioned a galaxy ruled by the simple application of fear. Fear could be allayed by prediction. Fear could be assuaged by acceptance of the inevitable. But fear could not be overcome if the object of that fear could strike without warning. Now that such a weapon was within his grasp, Hux had no intention of stopping short.

Kylo Ren was a living anachronism, Hux thought, bitterly. An ascetic zealot willing to allow his conquest to wither in its nascency over a slight to his personal pride. A cruel child whose tantrums threatened the endeavor to which Hux had devoted his life. A man with no direction or conviction other than devotion to a religion whose adherents were all either dead or cloistered in madhouses. He had to die.

The hours passed in silence. The general moved the pieces on his chessboard. Hux traced the metal edge of the monomolecular dagger inside the lining of his sleeve. And he stared intently into the empty spaces of his quarters, transfixed by phantasms of empire.

***

Hux didn’t sleep that night. The morning cycle arrived to find him still at his terminal. At some point during the night, he’d unholstered his sidearm, and had it sitting on the desk in front of him. So, when the holo-projector began pinging its shrill alarm at him, he’d trained the weapon on it and almost fired.

He shook his head hard and put the gun back in its holster, clicking on the projector as he did.

“Good morning, General.”

“Captain, I’d appreciate it if you’d keep your communications brief.”

“Yes, of course, sir, but the Star Destroyer Volition has reported following up on the intelligence you forwarded.”

“What intelligence?”

“About the Resistance depot on Taris. Captain Eskat said you transmitted the data several hours ago.”

Hux grasped for a coherent thought. His brain was addled from paranoia and lack of sleep.

“From what channel?”

“I’m sorry, sir?”

“The transmission, you dolt. From what channel was I meant to have sent it?”

“I—“ Peavey called to a communications officer outside of the projection range. “Check that transmission source. Any moment now, sir.”

What was Ren’s game? Had he sent the transmission remotely using Hux’s terminal codes? Had he set it to automatically transmit, and it had just slipped Hux’s attention during the night? The general kept at it, considering every option, barely noticing that his hand, resting on the desk, shook with a violent tremor.

“Here we are, General,” Peavey said brightly. “Emergency channel 927. Classified protocol. Clearance code: Opportunity.”

Hux snapped up, and whipped around to face the projection.

“Set course to Taris. And ready the division.”

“Of course, sir. And the Volition?”

“Tell her to hold until we arrive. Inform Captain Eskat the Supreme Leader will want to handle this personally.”

“Yes, General. Shall I alert Supreme Leader Ren?”

“No,” Hux said, grinning wide, “I’ll handle this myself.”

[keldae]

53 I can't run from my feelings anymore. X&T?

There were only a few instances in Theron’s thirty-six years of life that had ever scared him witless. Getting captured by Darth Mekhis wasn’t the most terrifying incident of his life, but it ranked pretty high up there. Being on the Ascendant Spear while the Republic fleet (under his father’s command!) opened fire on the Imperial ship… yeah, that was a scary time in Theron’s life. Watching the entire populace of Ziost turn into unwitting hosts of a genocidal maniac of a Sith ghost… he still had nightmares about that. Getting chased by a pack of Knights of Zakuul while he and Korin had been scouting out the Spire and trying to find a way in to Arcann’s private Carbonite Decoration Storage Facility… he and Korin had agreed to never, ever talk about it again.

Xaja Taerich vanishing from the security cams’ feed in a flash of light (quite against her will, if the scared expression on her face in the nanosecond before she’d disappeared had been any indication)? That made him panic.

Three days of searching the forests near the base and trying to coordinate Havoc Squad (and Kaliyo)’s attack on the Gemini frequency transmitter later, and Theron’s heart didn’t start beating properly again until he’d heard her voice behind him, all business as usual, if exhausted-sounding. Xaja had limped into the command centre, looking like she’d been used as a punching bag or test dummy for an entire battalion of Knights, but alive and still with it enough to give orders over the comms to Kaliyo and Jorgan.

It had taken more willpower than Theron thought he’d had to not run over, grab Xaja in his arms, and never let her out of his sight again. The fact that her father was standing literally two feet away and had gotten to hug her tightly in relief first was a large contributing factor. But while the exhausted Jedi was giving her account of what had happened to her in the forest (and Satele Shan was on Odessen and had been for some time?! Theron very nearly picked up his holo to give his mother an appropriate chewing-out for her apparent habit of running off and abandoning people like him when she was damn well needed, except she probably wouldn’t have answered anyway.), the spy was dwelling on the thoughts and feelings that had consumed him over the last few days.

Theron had never figured himself to be the emotional type, or the sort of person to get attached easily (if at all) to others, and he was pretty sure he could thank his mother for that. But as he thought about the last six years, he’d become attached, quite without realizing it, to the five-foot-nothing Jedi who’d strolled into his and Darok’s planning room so long ago. And she seemed to reciprocate at least the affection, and Theron had thought that maybe she did care about him when she’d come tearing into the Revanite compound to find him (not to mention all the more pleasant and private interactions they’d had between then and her disappearance). Theron had been devastated when the news of her death came through to the Republic, and he remembered the rekindled hope he’d felt when Lana had found him with word that the Jedi was still alive. 

Is this what love feels like? he asked himself as he watched Xaja join Lana at the control panel, noting the frown on the pretty Jedi’s face as they lost contact with Havoc and Kaliyo. The constant worrying about her safety? The want to make sure that she’s okay? The want to make sure that… she’s happy? The need to do anything for her to stay alive and well?

Theron wasn’t too familiar with the idea of love, and wasn’t exactly fond of reflecting too deeply on his own emotions, especially when they centered around the pretty redhead who so easily distracted him from his own life with just a smile. But this… he was pretty sure he wouldn’t have felt as much grief as he did during her long, frozen captivity over a mere friend, or even a Jedi legend. He knew for certain there was nobody else alive who he would have felt that panic for when Valkorion abducted her. 

Kriff it. If that’s what love feels like, then… yeah. I think I love her. Just thinking the words made something in Theron’s heart twinge, not unpleasantly. That feeling was still there some time later, when he’d finally gotten her back into their quarters and was tending to her injuries. “Are you sure you don’t need to go to medical or get Lana to heal you?” he asked as he gently rubbed the contents of a kolto pack on her bruised up back. “What the hell did you fall into?”

“I didn’t so much as ‘fall’ into anything as I got thrown against a cliff a couple of times. Telling Valkorion what he could do with his opinions, an angry mynock, and a rusty hydrospanner was worth it.” Xaja hissed as Theron’s fingers found a particularly sore area of her back. “Besides, I don’t rest well in medical. Too much distraction.”

“Mmm.” Theron finished his kolto application and gently tapped her shoulder for her to sit up, trying and almost succeeding at not staring at her fair skin when she didn’t bother putting her tunic back on and stayed in just a bra and her trousers. “And did he try to take a bite out of your arm in the process?”

“Nah. We just haven’t found all the-” Xaja yelped as Theron dabbed a disinfectant into the bite mark on her arm; the spy waited until she’d calmed herself and focused the pain away before continuing his ministrations. “… all the wildlife here yet.” She was silent for a little while, watching Theron work, before she spoke again. “You feel… different. Something shifted in the command room, something with you. What happened?”

Theron paused in his wrapping of her arm in a kolto-infused bandage. “I… had a realization and made a decision,” he finally said.

“About what?”

It took a moment for Theron to find the words he needed, a pause he filled by finishing with her bandage. “When you disappeared,” he finally started, “… I don’t think I’ve ever been as terrified as I was then. All I could think about was you, wondering where you were and if you were still even alive. When you came back alive, it… made me think about some things, things I didn’t really want to admit to before. Remember how I’m awful at this whole relationship thing?”

“Theron, what are you saying?” Xaja frowned and caught Theron’s hand with both of her own, her palms virtually dwarfed by him.

“… I can’t run from my feelings anymore,” Theron finally said as he clasped his free hand over hers. “I’ve always cared for you, worried about you, been happy to see you… your habit of vanishing against your will made me realize just how much I’ve always cared about you.” He looked up from their joined hands to meet her eyes. “I should have said this to you a long time ago, it just took the prospect of losing you again to make me work up the nerve to do it.” He took a deep breath, and finally whispered out the three hardest, most dangerous words he’d ever said in his life. “I love you.”

If he’d ever worried about if Xaja returned his feelings, those fears were laid aside as Theron suddenly found himself with an armful of half-naked Jedi woman, and felt her kiss on his cheek. “I love you too,” she murmured, pulling back to look him in the eyes. “I think I felt it when we were on Rishi, admitted it to myself after Ziost, but when you had five years to think about it and I didn’t, I thought you might… you know… not want me-”

Theron silenced her with the kiss he’d been waiting for three days to give her. “Those five years only convinced me that I couldn’t look at another person again or ever feel for them what I feel for you. I’m not the biggest ‘feelings’ guy around, but this… I can’t deny it. I fell in love with you on Rishi and it’s never stopped, no matter how much I tried to convince myself it wasn’t real and that you couldn’t feel the same.”

“Oh, Theron…” Xaja pressed her palm against Theron’s cheek comfortingly. “You would have only needed to say the words then and I would have been yours.”

“Yeah? I’m saying them now.” Theron leaned in to kiss her again. “I love you.”

[badsithnocookie]

☼ for eirn?

☼ OC’s First time meeting a Jedi

-

Jedi were things that were largelytheoretical to Apprentice Eirnhaya Illte; everything that was-not-Sith, themythological demons of the Republic who simultaneously hobbled themselves with-how had Baras put it? Their nauseatingly passionless demeanour - and yetthreatened everything that the Empire held dear, including its very existence.

The first time she encountered one - thefirst time she fought one, the first time she dismissed one out of hand andthen subsequently wished she hadn't - was in Sobrik, an obscenely resolutewoman who refused to flinch even in the face of the prospect of Baras'shospitality. Perhaps she was ignorant of the Sith, or perhaps she was just anidiot; Eirn neither knew nor cared, and it was a thought that disappearedentirely once she'd dragged herself to a medical centre - finally letting herguard drop enough to admit the way her enemy had wounded her during battle,never mind permit treatment.

The first time she met one, though -came face to face with one, and instead of seeing only Jedi (instead ofbeing seen only as Sith) saw an actual person-

-we know this is not about us-

Quinn, of course, was insufferable when hewas proven right. He contained his smirk, but it lingered in his aura, and ittook all of Eirn's self-control not to slap the man. (Vette filched his blasterwhen he wasn't looking, removing its energy cells - once they were aboard theship, safely away from Karr's goons - before returning it to its holster)

She'd taken a risk, and it had blown up inher face. The gamble had been hers to make; the odds had been poor, but she hadthe Force on her side, or so she'd thought.

-

'You used me! You lied, you- you-manipulated me, you-!'

The Jedi - the girl - Willsaam - wasmillimetres away from falling. A crueller, more orthodox Sith than she wouldhave pushed; Baras would have pushed, would have demanded that she push. Onereason among thousands that Eirn could never quite understand why, of all ofDreshdae's students, Tremel had thought she would catch his eye - orthat she had, for that matter, succeeded in that mad scheme.

It wasn't about them, though, and as shewatched Jaesa scream at her broken Master (as she watched the older Jedi railand curse, matching every one of Jaesa's accusations with epithets of his own),a part of her couldn't help but feel a little envious. Not for what wasunfolding in front of her, but for what Willsaam had once thought she'd oncehad - someone she could look up to, someone she didn't have to fear.

'Jaesa,' she started - the Jedi's namealien in her mouth, but getting everyone's attention all the same. 'It wasn'tyour fault. He was a master manipulator.'

Quinn thoroughly disapproved, of course - Eirnwas certain that even without the Force, she'd have been able to tasteit, but she ignored the man entirely. She'd brought him here precisely becausehe would disapprove; because he'd write to Baras, if what Vette had reportedfinding was accurate, bemoaning the fact that his assignment was as effectiveas she was heretical, and Baras would be trapped between praising herunconventionality or ridding himself of a proven effective operator. It was adangerous gamble, true, but Eirn was young and brash enough to still believeshe could take on such poor odds and walk away.

'What am I supposed to do?'

When Jaesa looked at her, her eyes full ofangry tears, Eirn didn't see someone who looked at her and hated; didn't seesomeone who looked at her, and saw a people fit only for the history books, afootnote in the history of their foul order. What it was she did see, Eirn could not be certain - for all heropenly displayed emotion, Jaesa's fracturing aura clouded, when prodded, hidingher inner depths as expertly as any Sith. There was no fear, though, no hatred- wariness, perhaps, and anger, and a desperate need for- comfort, and forguidance, and for normality.

This is not about us.

'Come with me,' Eirn replied, after amoment. 'I am required to deliver Master Karr to Lord Baras,' she added, 'Butyou-'

She'd die or be broken, in Baras's hands,and Eirn wasn't certain which fate was worse. To be unmade, or to simply ceaseto be?

'-The Jedi are mired in falseness. You mustsee this. But if you want,' she continued, 'I could teach you how to be Sith.'

In a manner thereof, anyway.

-

It helped, probably, that Baras's peopletook Karr away; that Eirn didn't have to truss the man up in her own cargo bay,as he hurled profanity at her and Jaesa all the while. Vette was even helpfulwhen it came to retrieving Jaesa's things from her own vessel, a move whichsurprised Eirn as much as it probably shouldn't have; Quinn, for all hisgrumbling, even had all the administrative work lined up for a pending Imperialcitizenship application.

(Lord Baras may be willing to fast-trackthe application, he began, as if anyone cared, if we have everything inplace by the time we arrive on Kaas-)

Jaesa, once the dust had settled (once theywere in hyperspace, and the initial buzz of activity had worn off; once Eirn'sinjuries had been attended to by her medic, once Vette had denied flatlyappropriating vibroknives belonging to the same) sat in the cargo bay, amongher crates - numb, if her aura was any indication, less in the manner of atightly controlled Jedi and more that of one whose entire world has just fallenapart. It wasn't a situation that Eirn had much - any - experiencehandling, but-

'You know,' she said, just taking a seatnear the once-Jedi, 'There are much more comfortable seats in the common area.'

Jaesa just sniffled, embarrassed; tried towipe away tears, and to pretend she hadn't cried them to begin with. 'Sorry,'she just mumbled, not looking at Eirn but not not-looking at her, either.

Eirn just offered what she hoped was asupportive smile. 'You don't need to apologise, Jaesa. You've- been though alot. And- you are not required- I mean,' she paused, biting back every instinctthat told her to speak poorly of the Jedi, and- 'You'll feel better for-letting it out.'

Which didn't help Jaesa in the slightest;she just sniffled loudly, before trying to steady herself - and failingentirely, fresh tears rolling down her cheeks.

'Thank you,' Jaesa managed, quietly -despite her tears, despite the fear that swaddled her. 'For- not- killingMaster Karr. I-'

Not that handing him to Baras was any lessof a death sentence, but Eirn supposed that there was some faint chance thatBaras might take it into his head to turn the man instead. It was out of herhands, at least; the cowardly way out, sure, but hardly her most heinouscowardice.

'Your parents are on Kaas,' Eirn justreplied, changing the topic entirely.

She had Quinn keep tabs on them - makesure they were well looked after, and that neither of them had attractedunwarranted attention. There were potential issues, she knew, with havingsomeone of his conflicted loyalties keep her appraised of their status (keepBaras appraised, she assumed, as well), but there was nothing about the manthat wasn't a potential issue; if she was going to keep her enemies close, shemight as well put them to work.

'If you want,' she added, 'I can take youto them, once we arrive.'

Jaesa didn't quite perk up, at that - butshe did look at Eirn with an expression on her face that was very almosthopeful. 'Really?'

'Really,' Eirn repeated, smiling a little.

Jaesa didn't reply to that - just threwherself at the Sith in a hug, before bursting into fresh sobs on Eirn'sshoulder; Eirn, every Sith instinct objecting to this quite entirely,immediately tensed - and only relaxed even a little once she wassort-of-certain the younger woman meant her no harm. The hug- the hug, then,was returned, entirely awkwardly, and Eirn wondered to herself just what, exactly,she had let herself in for.

[multipleoccupancy]

therapardalis​:

Kriffin’ Trandoshans. There’s only a few species in the galaxy she actually, actively dislikes. Bothans are irritating, Rodians ‘meh’, and Gungans she just can’t take seriously no matter how hard she tries. But Trandoshans? Forget it.

Especially when one of the scaly motherkriffers is ahead of her in the ‘job application’ line. Any other race and she might just let it go - there’s been an uptick in work for bounty hunters in recent times. There was plenty under the auspices of the Republic if you knew where to look, but with the sudden and slightly terrifying change in the status quo … well, it’s party time. Everyone who’s had a bone to pick or axe to grind is looking for someone to do their dirty work.

Not that she’s totally favouring one side over the other. Choosing sides is what gets you killed, so she’ll just keep her head down and skip around the outskirts, like she’s always done, and maybe get together a larger nest egg before it’s time to run like hell.

So … no. She doesn’t actually need to meet the mysterious whoever it is that’s posting lucrative offers on Guild noticeboards around the sector; doesn’t actually need whatever cash they may or may not be throwing around.

But she doesn’t want that bug-eyed piece of Trandoshan trash to get it, either. So screw that noise, she’s going in.

Once the doors opened a menacing figure stood on the other side, stepping through a moment later with heavy footsteps, the whispered about and dreaded rasp of mechanical breathing was the only other sound to greet her at first while the Sith Lord assessed her as he had done the others.

Vader did not enjoy the presence of bounty hunters, he thought many of them liars, cheats and double crossers. However, even he could not deny their usefulness from time to time. The Imperial forces could be mighty and devastating but such a mission required a certain subtlety and expertise the Empire could not offer without alerting or destroying his targets. Was it not the very practice of bounty hunters to hunt down a target without alerting them that the chase was even on? He assumed the officers stationed around him had shown her to where Vader had said he would meet with the bounty hunters and thus, did not think he needed to bother with pleasantries, not that he was ever inclined to anyway.

“I do not need to explain that Imperial contracts are of the upmost importance to maintain the integrity of the Galactic Empire. This bounty is for the entire crew of a YT light freighter to be captured alive and brought to me.” He instructed right off the bat and straight to business. He did not trust any of the hunters he had met with and Thera was no exception, there were plenty of rebels for him to find and destroy as it was and he did not doubt there were likely loyalists in the guild somewhere that would have at least checked on the bounty, hence his initial anonymity. “Do you have such resources?”

[xivu-arath]

“No offence, my lord, but while you’ve saved a lot of lives, mine included, you... don’t exactly fit the chosen hero type.”

“Really.”

“Yeah, it’s something about the whole... crushing people’s throats and throwing yourself at them like a lightsaber-wielding missile that kind of ruins the image.”

“Wait, let me get this straight,” Vette says, incredulous. “You convinced the Voss you’re some prophetic hero, and now you’re going on a vision quest to prove yourself to them? And you want me to come with you?”

“That about sums it up, yes,” Rkorya says, not bothering to hide her own amusement. Not much flusters Vette, most days, so it’s always something of a small pleasure to surprise her.

“You know, if they’re that gullible, they almost deserve to get tricked into joining with the Empire. No offence, my lord, but while you’ve saved a lot of lives, mine included, you... don’t exactly fit the chosen hero type.”

“Really.”

“Yeah, it’s something about the whole... crushing people’s throats and throwing yourself at them like a lightsaber-wielding missile that kind of ruins the image. Did they see you fight?”

“If not, they should have certainly heard of my strength by now. I’ve been cutting my way through Gormak all day.”

Vette snorts. “Your strength, right. What about... sheer brutality? Or maybe they’re just thinking ‘wow that is way more Gormak heads than I expected to see today’. Then again, with all the problems they cause... I guess that’d be a point in your favour.”

“The point is,” she says, cutting in more delicately than she might have with the rest of her crew. Vette’s wit and cheerful refusal to stop talking is one of the things that Rkorya first admired about her – silencing her tongue is something she tries to avoid. “It’s an easy enough interpretation to reach, and few of the Sith stationed here are as strong as I am in the Force. If this can sway the Voss towards the Empire, it’s my duty to pursue it.”

“Yeah, yeah, for the good of the Empire! I get it. I haven’t forgotten that you actually care about winning this planet over. Anyways, that’s not the point. This vision thing... are you sure you don’t want, I don’t know, Jaesa along instead? Someone who actually is as Sith-y as you?”

“I did think of my apprentice first,” she says wryly. “But while these trials channel something of the Force, I doubt they’re... easily applicable to Sith teachings.”

“You mean that they might not want you killing everything in sight, and then she’s going to pout about it.” Rkorya raises an eyebrow, and Vette raises hers in turn. “What? You’re not denying it.”

Because, of course, it’s true to an extent.

“That Jaesa’s temperament isn’t suited to meditating or seeking visions is clear enough. More importantly, I don’t know the specifics of what the trials will involve. If we’re both involved in meditation, we’ll be exposed. An assassin at the right moment would do wonders for the Republic – or for Baras.” Vette’s eyes narrow at that, cheer vanishing in a heartbeat. The attack on Hoth’s orbital station is still fresh in the mind, a wound that’s all too easy to dwell on. She’d kept her crew distanced from her master and his orders, for the most part – for Draahg to lead the assault on them was every bit as personal as that first betrayal.

She welcomes every scrap of powerful, protective rage. To strike at her is inevitable, expected. To strike at those who’ve sworn themselves to her, who are hers to fight beside and shield, and to do it while she still lived – that, Baras will pay for a dozen times over.

“Right, noted, Jaesa wouldn’t be the best choice. In that case... why not Pierce, or Quinn? Give them a few minutes and there’d be a military perimeter and everything. No one’d get close!” Vette’s voice is a little too loud, forcing the mood to brighten, but Rkorya can appreciate the effort. “Or even Broonmark – you like him, right? Just tell him to guard and you’d be fine!” She furrows her brow. “Well, you’d be fine, but the Voss...”

“I doubt the Voss would be happy to have a slaughter in one of their sacred places.” Dry irony is difficult to grasp when she wants to seethe, drown herself in her grudges, but that tends to cut short all conversations. Vette is used to her by now, but no one is ever truly comfortable around a furious Sith. “Quinn and Pierce are commendably loyal but... they wish to further the Empire’s agenda as much as I do. If these trials are real, if there’s anything of value in honing myself by going through them... I would prefer an unbiased anchor. The Voss deserve that much.”

“Wow,” she says after a beat of silence, softening. “One of those almost sounding like a good person moments. Kinda wasn’t expecting one, so soon after... well, anyways. I mean, I am honoured. Did I say that yet? Definitely an honour to go along with your big prophecy quest. Even if it is mostly a trick to get them to join up. I’m only agreeing to come along because you had to go and be sweet about it.”

“Your reasons are noted,” she says, so haughtily that the tone mocks itself – it’s enough to prompt a small grin, which was the goal. “But really, Vette, it wasn’t much of a decision to begin with. I needed someone I could trust to watch my back. You were the first person I thought of.”

If she had been surprised before, now she’s well and truly flustered – while it’s hard to tell on less thin-skinned species than humans, Rkorya is fairly certain she’s blushing. A first time for everything, it seems.

“Well... it’s the least I can do, I guess,” she says at last, when she can finally meet her gaze again. “After... well, after everything you’ve done for me.” And then, deliberately building up to another jibe, “As long as you’re the one doing all the running around and sitting on a cold stone floor and whatever else these trials need.”

“The Voss, from what I’ve seen, seem to value silence, so I doubt you’d ever qualify to begin with. But I’m sure we can find you a wall to lean against while I do all the work.”

“Just one cantina, they don’t like to talk... I knew I’d find a few reasons not to like this planet.”