#ataiqo

[voidendron]

what do you do when they ask you to betray family?

Whumptober 2023

Day 2: “I’ll call out your name, but you won’t call back.”

Thermometer | Delirium | "They don't care about you."

Star Wars: The Old Republic

Warnings: Manipulation

Characters: Anaehr Cadera (Bounty Hunter, Chiss/Human, he/him), Ehna'dissen (Sith Interrogator, Twi'lek, she/her), Ataiqo (Sith Assassin, Rattataki, she/her)

They’d called him for a job. Anaehr was no stranger to working for Imperials, nor Sith, but the Twi’lek’s jabber-mouth was quickly getting on his nerves.

Even so, he wasn’t dumb enough to tell her to shut her trap so they could get to the point and lay out the details for the job.

Instead, he crossed his arms and scowled at the pair as he waited. While the Twi’lek talked on and on, sprinkling cutesy nicknames in all the while, the other (he couldn’t tell what she was behind her mask and the robes that covered her head-to-toe) hadn’t said a word. Still, he knew she was Ataiqo, the Empire’s newest Wrath in everything but name.

“Now, Mr. Cadera—”

He suppressed a grimace. “Just… Call me Anaehr.”

Ehna’dissen hummed, then prattled on as if his interruption hadn’t happened—albeit, she didn’t call him Cadera again.

“Don’t you see our vision? Oh, this could be wonderful!”

He sighed. Took a breath (don’t get annoyed with a Sith, don’t get annoyed with a Sith). Quirked a brow. “Look. I’m just a mercenary. And what you’re askin’ me is to betray my family.”

She tsked at him, waggling a finger as she strode across the room to stand before him. She seemed so much smaller standing there, but he knew better than to underestimate her. She may have been tiny, and talked as if they were the best of friends, but she was well-known for her cruelty. One wrong word, she’d turn on him in a heartbeat.

So he bit his tongue and let her speak her mind.

“Oh, come now! Your family? Pah!” She circled him, manicured nails tracing his pauldron, across his back, and he had to resist the urge to shudder and pull away. “The same family that ignored you? The same family that offered leadership to your elder siblings upon a silver platter, leaving you with nothing?” His lip twitched, but he didn’t let himself snarl. “Tsk. Dear Anaehr… Do you not realize what this itty bitty little job could get you?”

His arms tightened across his chest, eyes averting to the floor.

“All we’re asking is a distraction. You distract your darling mum, we take the information, we leave, job done!”

“You’re asking me to betray the trust of my mum and dad.”

She circled back around to his front, both hands finding his shoulders and squeezing; it would have been painful had he not been armored, he was sure of it. “So what?” There was a grin upon her lips. It bared teeth filed into perfect fangs; he couldn’t shake the feeling that she’d use them in an instant if she saw the need.

But it was Ataiqo to speak next. Her voice was so soft he’d almost call it a whisper, and when he met the eyes of her mask he got the sense that she was staring into his very soul. “They don’t care about you,” she murmured.

He grimaced, and he wasn’t sure if it was because of what Ataiqo said, or that Ehna’dissen brushed a gentle hand over his cheek. “They left you with nothing, dear. Atten and Araa are the stars, but what of you?”

Anaehr swallowed. Were they right..?

“It’s a simple job, you can show them what you’re capable of. Be a dear and do this for us, hmm?”

“I…” He bit his lip—hard—but found himself nodding slowly. “...Okay. I’ll do it.”

[thevehszlegacy]

Background Characters wip

OCs who are mostly in the background. They don’t play any really important roles and are here to support the mains and secondaries. Click the name to go to their profile.

Jedi Knights

Karn Mana

Kidak Hess

Jedi Consulars

TBA

Smugglers

Baesk Tre’fon

Republic Troopers

TBA

Sith Warriors

TBA

Sith Inquisitors

Ataiqo

Imperial Agents

TBA

Bounty Hunters

Veir Tro

Nori Tro

Taz

Tre’lec

Pyre Tro

Sunii Tro

Risyek

Iudresc Tro

Tilly Tro

Anviaj

[voidendron]

another batch of icons finished!

this time we have Alvihr & Ataiqo (she/her), Chanet (she/they),

Baesk & Chakem (he/him)

--Do not repost my works. Reblogs are appreciated!--

[voidendron]

[voidendron]

Lovely Little Spy

Whumptober 2022 Day 16: No Way Out Mind Control (used brainwashing instead) | Paralytic Drugs | “No one’s coming.”

Star Wars: The Old Republic Characters: Rediaex'aere'zortiea (Cipher Nine - Chiss), Ehna'dissen (Sith Inquisitor - Twi'lek), Ataiqo (Sith Inquisitor - Rattataki), Theron Shan (mentioned) Warnings: Brainwashing/Catellan Restraints, Hallucinations, Psychological Torture, Violent Fantasies, Intrusive/Suicidal Thoughts

PLEASE heed the warnings. This one actually made me tear up working on it, and that almost never happens when I write anything Writing Xaerez having violent fantasies and suicidal thoughts was. Disturbing, to say the least. Those two really messed my boy up :(

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

He didn’t know who inside the Alliance was the Imperial spy.

It wasn’t like he could have said anything had he figured it out, anyway.

That didn’t stop him from trying to snarl nasty words at the pair on his personal holo even as his jaw locked itself shut. His personal holo, that had been sliced for what had to be the fourth time to force him to confront them.

When he learned who the spy was, he’d… He’d kill them. He’d wring their neck and bash their head against a wall and slice their throat open. He’d…he’d…

He wanted to cry. Wanted to scream. Wanted to…to do something. Anything.

Instead he stood at solemn attention, cane grasped in front of himself as he looked down at his holo and the all too familiar Sith’s figures in it.

His thoughts may have still been his own, but that was all. His body was theirs to control, his tongue theirs to place careful words at the end of. And all it took was that one word.

The hallucinations had started weeks ago.

They didn’t care.

The growing paranoia ate him alive.

They laughed.

Even when they weren’t on the holo, he could hear their laughter. It echoed around him, taunted him, made his head ache and he desperately wished he could just rip his hearing implants out even if he knew it would do nothing. Nothing, but make him bleed and make Theron look at him with shock and horror and make the medics think he’d lost his damned mind.

He could always hear them long after they hung up. They hid around corners, whispering horrible things in his ears. They shushed him when he wanted so desperately to break down and just cry.

He never could. They wouldn’t let him.

“We’d like to meet you in person again, love,” Ehna’dissen said. She sounded cheerful. She always sounded cheerful.

He hated it. He hated her. He wanted to see the light fade from her eyes. He wanted to perch himself up high and far, far away where he couldn’t hear her, look down the scope of his rifle, and blast her between the eyes.

While he was at it, he wanted to take Ataiqo staff and take her damn head off with it. It was the least she deserved after violating his mind for his damn, damn, damn code word and everything they could ever hope to know about the Castellan restraints.

“We could make it a family affair,” Ataiqo added to interrupt the mental image of her head laying on the floor at his feet. Her quiet voice was always hard for his hearing implants to pick up. It was barely a whisper, never anything more.

Xaerez swallowed; it was the only thing he found he could do.

Ehna’dissen tipped her head at her supposed “sister” curiously. “Oh? Do tell!”

“Did you know he’d married?” The smile in the assassin’s voice was the most emotion he’d ever heard from her.

And his blood ran cold. He felt like he should be panicking, shouting, begging, anything—but he couldn’t. Even as his mind reeled, he stood as calmly as ever and he wanted to curse himself, curse every single person who’d made this horrible, horrible conditioning exist.

They’d kill Theron. They’d kill him.

The Twi’lek made a show of shock at the news, hands over her mouth and all, before turning her attention back to Xaerez with a smile that promised only terrible things.

“Ooh, what does our dear little spy think? Speak freely, now.”

The command forced him to open his mouth and speak his mind.

He’d never been an open person, but they effortlessly pried it out of him with the damn conditioning.

“Do what you want with me—” he still couldn’t move, they hadn’t given him permission to move—only to speak—so he couldn’t lunge for his holo to disconnect it, “—but leave him out of it. Please. It’s…it’s all I ask. It’s the only request you will ever get—”

“Okay, quiet.”

His mouth snapped shut so quickly his teeth clicked together.

“What do you think, sister dear?”

Ataiqo tilted her head at the question, and Xaerez got the impression she was staring into his very soul. “His spouse has been a thorn in the Empire’s side for far too long.”

Ehna’dissen hummed thoughtfully before nodding, and Xaerez felt dread grip his heart. He knew that look. He knew that look.

“We can rid ourselves of a thorn, and meet with our lovely little spy, all in one go! No one will even know! No one will come, but two lovely spies.” She cheerfully clasped her hands together. “Keyword: Iconoclasm. Bring Theron Shan to the coordinates you’ll be sent so we can finally meet the adorable couple~! We’ll have new commands upon your arrival.”

It felt like his air was stolen away, breath stuttering in his chest even as he didn’t move. No, no.

New commands? Bullshit. He knew what they’d order him to do. He knew how their minds worked. They were going to make him kill his own husband.

The Sith both looked expectantly at him over the holo. It was Ehna’dissen, the one who’d uttered the command when they first connected, the only one of the pair who could really give him orders until giving the too familiar “wake up” order, who again spoke.

“Are we understood, Agent?”

“Of course, my lord.” He bowed at he said it. Bowed. He wanted to drive his cane through his foot and bite his own tongue off.

“Very good! Now wake up.”

The holo clicked off.

His eyes squeezed shut, but no tears would come.

Xaerez wanted nothing more in that moment than to have his access to his weapons returned.

That’s all it would take. One blaster bolt. Just one. Just…tilt his head up, close his eyes, and pull the trigger. He never missed. Never. Then it would all be over.

Then he couldn’t hurt Theron. He couldn’t betray the Alliance. The assassin and the interrogator would lose their weapon planted so carefully upon Odessen.

And he’d be free.

But he couldn’t.

He couldn’t…

He could still hear their laughter.

[voidendron]

I was tagged by @thedinalixlegacy - thank you, Dina! 💚💜 I haven't been creating much lately, but I do have a kinda messy WIP for post-Dark Descent V'ehsz Legacy Canon (specifically, for Xaerez)

warning for some (non-explicit) violence

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

[...]

The sensors scattered throughout the hideout never alerted him. The hidden entrance made naught a sound. The shadows gave no clues.

No. He hadn’t known until he reached for the terminal to transmit the data.

He first saw the weapon: A long staff, with what he could only describe as a fanged maw on the end. The wielder’s black robes seemed to manifest from the shadows themselves. Their face, shrouded by a skull-like mask as dark as their robes.

The staff’s teeth closed on his wrists.

He wasn’t sure if the noise was its jaws snapping together, or the crunching of bone.

Theron’s cry of alarm was cut short as the wielder proceeded to smash their now-bloodied staff against the holoterminal.

[...]

-----I'll leave it as an open tag since I'm late getting to it!

[voidendron]

Knew the Risk, Part 5: Iconoclasm

<<< Part 4

Star Wars: The Old Republic Post-Onslaught

Warnings: Brainwashing/Castellan Restraints Characters: Rediaex'aere'zortiea (Cipher Nine - Chiss), Ehna'dissen (Sith Inquisitor - Twi'lek), Ataiqo (Sith Inquisitor - Rattataki)

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

The medics had finally stopped watching him like he could keel over at any second. His body still ached sometimes, or phantom pains would race through the electrocution scars branching out from his chest and wrists. He did his best to hide the scars, but a few of their branches still peeked up past his collar and traced up his jaw.

He couldn’t help but lean heavily on a cane. Couldn’t help but hate himself for it. It was just another thing to inhibit him, to make him vulnerable and a liability, now. But it hurt to walk. That damned Inquisitor had screwed up an already damaged foot, and he just couldn’t hide the limp anymore.

There was still difficulty holding things at times. He couldn’t feel the prosthetic hands, had to watch them when he reached for anything to make sure he grabbed it securely. He’d dropped the cane often, or his water, and would growl with frustration. They felt clumsy, and weak, but at the same time somehow also too powerful—he’d cracked a datapad already when he hadn’t realized how tightly he held it, had bruised Theron’s fingers when he tried to squeeze them comfortingly and couldn’t help the pang of guilt for it.

A few cybernetic fingers was one thing. But the entirety of both hands? It was hard to adjust to. Xaerez had a new respect for the Barsen’thor’s silence and gentleness despite his own prosthetic limbs.

But Theron was patient. He’d bend down to grab the cane, or reach for a towel to wipe at any food or drink that happened to spill. He made no note of the light bruises, not even a grimace, and replaced the damaged datapad without comment.

“Be patient with yourself,” he’d remind the Chiss.

His hair had finally been cut. No more ponytail to tickle the back of his neck and irritate him to no end. He had his short, neat cut back, and was at least grateful for that. He’d hated the long hair. Hated the way he could feel it on his neck, or how loose strands would fall in his eyes. Hated how it offered yet another thing to grab onto or get in his way. He had no idea how he’d been able to stand long hair when he was younger.It felt like that was the only thing to be going his way, right then.

Xaerez grimaced as he wrung a hand around his wrist. The branching electrocution scars were still tender, and his gloves were irritating them to no end. He tried to loosen the straps, but it took three tries before clumsy fingers could finally succeed with the simple action. How could anyone function normally with prosthetic hands? he thought irritably.

Theron was atsome…officer meeting, he thought he’d heard, and wouldn’t be back for some time. It was the first time he’d left Xaerez alone for an extended period since he’d woken up, and it left the Chiss to linger in his own thoughts.

He took a slow, deep breath and tried not to wince at the ache in his chest. His broken ribs were healed by that point, but it didn’t change the fact that he was down an entire damn lung.

Tapping absentmindedly at the datapad, Xaerez’s lip curled into a distasteful frown. He wasn’t allowed into any of the sensitive files. He wasn’t allowed in on meetings. Or the training hall. Or to patrol. Or to even carry a goddamn weapon or chip in with even simple work. Surely, he didn’t blame the Alliance for being cautious—he’d been deep-cover for a few years behind Imperial lines, after all, and was still recovering from his injuries—but he couldn’t help his irritation.

He felt…useless. Vulnerable. A liability.

He was out of his element.

His fingers curled against the edge of the device.

Before he really even realized what he was doing, a frustrated string of Cheunh cursesleft him as the datapad flew from his hand. It hit the wall with a bang, and he grimaced as he could practically hear the crack that spiderwebbed across the screen on impact.

By the Force, Xaerez, he thought with a sigh as he stood. He grabbed for his cane, checked then double-checked that he had a secure hold on it, and went to scoop up the broken device.

A sigh and shake of the head, followed by another grimace when his holocall buzzed from the desk. That…must be Theron. He’d been expecting a call when the meeting was over.

He glanced down at the shattered datapad, tossed it to the bed, and made his way over to answer.

He reached for the device to turn it on.

Static. Then a voice he couldn’t make out. And the image finally flickered to life.

He swallowed and a scowl found his brow.

“How did you get this frequency?” he demanded.

The Twi’lek on the other end tilted her head and actually had the audacity to smile. “Now, that’s not a polite way to answer the holo, love…”

How had she gotten his frequency? How did she even know he was alive?!

He reached to turn it off. It worked for but a moment, then her image popped right back up.

Someone…someone had tampered with his holo. They still had a mole…

His thoughts weren’t allowed to linger there for long before Ehna’dissen opened her mouth again.

“Now, that ain’t nice. I’ve got somethin’ important—”

“And I don’t want to hear it.”

“Oh, I assure you, ya do.” The glare that found her face sent a chill down his spine. “Sister, dear?” Another figure—the assassin—stepped into view of the image. His free hand found the opposite wrist, as if covering the electrical scars would do anything to turn her voidlike stare away from him. “What was that word again?”

“Onomatophobia.”

Xaerez flinched, but locked his jaw and reached for the holo again. “Enough. Get on with whatever you wanted to say—that word hasn’t worked for—”

“Years?” The Twi’lek hummed, picking absentmindedly at her manicured nails. “The Castellan Restraints are permanent though—we both know that, don’t we, love? You can’t rid yourself of it, but can change your itty bitty little codeword. So there’s a new one, hmm?”

He swallowed, tightened his grip on his cane. “How do you..?”

The assassin stepped forward. It felt like she was staring into his very soul. “Your mind is strong.” Her voice was soft. Barely a whisper. His hearing implants almost couldn’t pick up on her words. “But to break the body, can weaken the defenses. Allow the shadows toe intrude. To retrieve secrets, buried deep.”

His eyes widened as realization hit him. His mental defenses…they’d faltered. She’d…she’d gotten that info, and…

His hands reached up to turn his hearing implants off, but clumsy fingers fumbled only a moment too long.

“Iconoclasm.”

The cane clattered to the floor as he stood to rigid attention. Even as his mind reeled, begged him to lunge for the holo, to break it, to silence them…

His body wouldn’t move.

They’d known he was alive when they left him in the hideout. Maybe they hadn’t particularly cared if he’d survived in the end, but they’d left with the knowledge that the Alliance would at least try to save him.

They’d left him, with whatever the assassin had pried from his violated mind.

They’d left him, knowing that if he did survive, well…

Xaerez would have collapsed to his knees and cried, or screamed, or, or… but he didn’t. The Restraints held him patient attention, awaiting Ehna’dissen’s command input.

Now they had a weapon unable to tell anyone that his Castellan Restraints, after so, so many years, were active again.

Now they had a weapon without access to the shuttles for an impromptu trip to Quesh.

Now… Now they had a weapon—a weapon, that would do whatever they demanded of him—planted securely right in the middle of Alliance HQ.

[voidendron]

Knew the Risk, Part 1: Liar, Liar

Part 2 >>>

Star Wars: The Old Republic Post-Onslaught

Warnings: Character Injury, Blood

Characters: Rediax'aere'zortiea (Cipher Nine - Chiss), Theron Shan, Ataiqo (Sith Inquisitor - Rattataki), Ehna'dissen (Sith Inquisitor - Twi'lek)

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

Lies.

Lies were something he’d always excelled at, from minor twisting of the truth, to taking on entirely new identities.

To get exactly what he wanted, he told even the boldest lies as if they were nothing but truth.

A new face, a new voice, a new name. Just enough data given up to gain Emperor Vowrawn’s favor without screwing over the Alliance, and… well. What galactic power wouldn’t want a skilled spy under its thumb?

The Empire wouldn’t fully trust him—never had as Cipher Nine, never would as Nav’erdat’enn—but he could work with that. A spy was used to not being trusted, after all.

Days turned to weeks, weeks into months, and the months stretched on. Nearly a year, and sometimes he still went to twist the ring that wasn’t on his finger. The ring he’d left with Theron with the promise he’d be back for it, with one final kiss before boarding the “stolen” Alliance shuttle.

Before taking on a new identity.

Before aggravating those he considered allies, to the point they attacked him—to the point they nearly shot down the stolen shuttle, nearly killed him, before he fled for Imperial space.

Time continued to tick on. Time didn’t care what was left behind, only what was to come.

Almost a year-and-a-half, and Vowrawn had begun selecting Xaerez for covert missions. The Emperor’s personal spy.

Finally.

Now his work could truly begin.

He started small. Just the occassional bit of information slipped to the Alliance. Bits that wouldn’t be traced back to him. Bits, that would slowly add up until he slipped away with something big—something important—and wasn’t found out until it was far too late.

Over time, he constructed a small hideout deep in the jungles of Dromund Kaas. Hidden by drooping vines and heavy branches and a rushing waterfall that drowned the sounds of the single door. Foliage, arranged to hide perimeter sensors from sight.

Within, the hideout was a single room with a simple, heavily encrypted, holoterminal. A small cupboard with emergency stocks: Food, water, first aid. Nothing more.

It was small, and simple, but it did its job.

He couldn’t help his gentle smile the first time he could use the holo: A too-familiar face greeted him on the other end. They always stayed professional—they were on the job, after all—but each time he saw Theron on the other end, he was reminded why he was doing this. Reminded, who he could eventually go home for.

They always ended the call with Xaerez inputting his latest data and leaning over the holo to be as close to Theron as he could be. He only wished he could actually touch the man, rather than study his flickering image.

“I love you,” Theron would say.

Xaerez would swallow past the lump in his throat. “I’ll be home soon.”

“Soon” ticked on.

And on.

And on…

Xaerez reported on Vowrawn, the state of the Empire’s military, mining complexes and slave camps and scouting patrols. Anything he could get away with, without ousting himself as a spy or arousing suspicion of one in their ranks.

He reported on a new Sith often at Vowrawn’s side—a replacement for Malgus, for Scourge, for Azan. His new Wrath, in all but name.

He reported when Vowrawn fell ill, and again when he’d recovered. Reported on the state of the Dark Council, and Raven Squad, and the Isotope-5-powered warships.

As time ticked to the three-year mark, he had it: The type of information he’d been waiting for. The Empire was going to attempt an ambush and assassination on the Commander and any of her present officers when her ship reached a neutral spaceport. It would be the Empire’s best assassins, with the best tools, and far more organized than he’d seen from them in a long time. The plan consisted of such clear knowledge of what was happening that he sensed a spy in the Alliance’s ranks.

Xaerez slipped away from Kaas City with a stealth generator active. The long trek to his hideout was one he’d memorized by that point. One he could have practically followed with his eyes closed.

That is, if it wasn’t for rushing rivers, dangerous predators, flashes of lightning that would strike the ground around him, and narrow cliffs that lay between it, and the city.

He wasn’t smiling this time when he reported to Theron what he’d discovered. His breathing was heavy and sweat slicked his brow; he’d run for as long and as fast as a bad foot would allow through rough jungle terrain.

“Assassination attempt?” said Theron. He pursed his lips and glanced to the side, likely to someone out of view of the holo. “When?”

Xaerez shook his head. “Soon. It sounds like the Commander is traveling to Nar Shaddaa soon?” He knew why the Alliance didn’t keep him updated on these things while he was deep-cover, but it would sure be nice to at least have an idea of when it would be happening, or how big of an event was planned.

Theron cursed under his breath. “Okay, okay. I know exactly what they’re trying to stop. This complicates things… But we’ll deal with it. This info will save lives, Xae.”

“…Theron?”

“Hmm?”

“I…fear they’re becoming suspicious.”

His eyes widened. “Of you?”

“Uncertain.” He could still feel the way Vowrawn’s assassin eyed him, the way her eyes bored into him as if reading his very soul.

“Then you need to be careful. Go radio silent for a while.”

Xaerez nodded as he pulled a data spike from his pocket. “Before I go, I do have some good information. It’s about one of the Isotope-5 ships.”

Theron perked up at that. Xaerez had a location where it would be docked for a while. A crew manifesto, codes, how much Isotope-5 was left in the first place and the Empire’s forces on now-uninhabitable Makeb, whatever he’d managed to get his hands on. Maybe, just maybe, the Alliance could claim it for itself.

Theron was actually smiling now. This could be exactly what they needed to finally end the damned war.

The sensors scattered throughout the hideout never went off.

The hidden entrance made not a sound.

There was barely a flicker in the shadows to hint at another presence in the room.

And yet, there most certainly was…

The presence didn’t make itself known until Xaerez reached for the terminal to transmit the data.

He first saw the weapon: A long staff, with what he could only describe as a fanged maw on the end. The wielder’s black robes seemed to manifest from the shadows themselves. Their face, shrouded by a skull-like mask as dark as their robes.

The logical part of Xaerez’s brain said the eyes of the mask were one-way transparisteel. The shocked part saw only soulless voids that seemed to stare straight through him.

The staff’s teeth closed on his wrists.

He wasn’t sure if the noise was its jaws snapping together, or the crunching of bone. Wasn’t sure if the shock traveling up his arms was the electricity dancing between its teeth, or the pain of pierced tendons and splintering bone.

Theron’s cry of alarm was cut short as the wielder proceeded to smash their now-bloodied staff against the holoterminal. It sparked once, his image flickered, and it turned off—likely for good.

Xaerez hit one knee, hands clutched against his chest as he hissed through clenched teeth and eyes blurred by tears remaining pinned where Theron’s image had last stood. It wasn’t long before the shadowy figure moved into his line of sight and, as the shock faded, he recognized her as Vowrawn’s personal assassin—as Malgus’ replacement.

The perimeter sensors started wailing, and the assassin smashed her weapon against the control box near the door.

The sounds immediately died out to leave only the spy’s breathing to be heard.

Minutes felt as though they stretched into hours before the door finally slid open.

The woman to enter was one he’d learned to avoid from others’ stories of her. Twi’lek, Sith—interrogator, with the temper and cruelty to match.

She was the very same who’d killed his clone to convince the Empire—and the galaxy as a whole—that Cipher Nine was dead. The very same who’d thrown the clone’s lifeless body at the Commander’s feet with a sneer, who’d broadcast the murder for all in the Alliance to bear witness.

Under the shadow of her cap, she wore a cruel grin that could make anyone’s blood run cold.

[voidendron]

WIP

The medics had finally stopped watching him like he could keel over at any second. His body still ached, breathing still made his chest hurt a bit, and he couldn't help but lean heavily on a cane - that damned Sith had really messed up an already damaged foot.

Theron hadn't left his side. This would be the first time Xaerez would be without his husband since waking up back on Odessen. Some...officer briefing, he thought he'd heard.

He took a slow, deep breath, trying not to wince at the pain it put on his chest.

A lot had changed since he'd gone undercover behind Imperial lines.

Slowly, trying not to put too much weight on his bad foot, he made his way to his desk. His old mask still lay where he'd last put it, a layer of dust coating the lenses. The computer was gone, but a small personal holocall took its place. A light on the side was flashing with an incoming call, but it must have been muted.

He'd been expecting a call from Theron when the meeting was over.

Xaerez reached for the device to turn it on.

Static. Then a voice he couldn't make out. And the image finally flickered to life.

A scowl found his brow.

"How did you get this frequency?" he demanded.

The Twi'lek on the other end tilted her head and had the audacity to smile. "Now, that's not a polite way to answer the holo, love..."

He reached to turn it off-

"Ah-ah, wait! I've got somethin' important..."

"And I don't want to hear it."

"Oh, I assure you, you do." The glare that found her face sent a chill down his spine. "Sister dear?" Another figure - the assassin in the black robes and skull-faced mask - stepped into view of the image. "What was that word again?"

"Onomotophobia."

Xaerez grimaced, but locked his jaw and reached for the holo again. "Enough. That word hasn't worked for-"

"Years? Yep, we know. Just a little test." A sinister grin found her face. "There's a new one, hmm?"

He swallowed. "How do you..?"

"I ain't one for mind tricks, but sister dear?"

The assassin stepped forward. It felt like she was staring into his very soul. "Your mind is strong." Her voice was soft. Barely a whisper. "But to break the body, can weaken the mind's defenses. Allow the shadows to intrude. To retrieve secrets, buried deep."

"Iconoclasm."

The cane clattered to the floor as he stood to rigid attention. Even as his mind reeled, begged him to lunge for the holo, to turn it off, to silence them...

His body wouldn't move.

They'd wanted him to escape.

And now they had their weapon planted securely back in his home.

[voidendron]

Knew the Risk, Part 2: Limits

<< Part 1 | Part 3 >>>

Star Wars: The Old Republic Post-Onslaught

Warnings: Violence, Major Character Injury, Torture* *Broken Bones, Choking, Blood Loss, Electrocution Characters: Rediaex'aere'zortiea (Cipher Nine - Chiss), Ehna'dissen (Sith Inquisitor - Twi'lek), Ataiqo (Sith Inquisitor - Rattataki)

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

The Twi’lek—Ehna’dissen—liked to talk. To herself, to her victim, to the assassin she called her “sister.” She wore white, but wasn’t afraid to get blood on her jacket, or gloves, or boots. It looked as though it would stain, but she kept smiling and there was a pep to her voice even as she grabbed Xaerez’s chin and manicured nails bitinto his cheeks.

She wasn’t as good at torture as she thought. Didn’t pace herself, got carried away, and was more likely to kill her victim if they had a strong enough will to keep their mouth shut. It didn’t change the fact that everything hurt.

“C’mon, love…” Her tone juxtaposed her actions as her nails drew blood. “I just wanna know how much your Alliance been told…”

Xaerez didn’t meet her eyes, simply stared down at his discolored hands without a word. They’d gone numb and wouldn’t obey when he tried to make them move.

He knew his limit.

She didn’t.

She’d sooner accidentally kill him than push him to answer, just as she’d done with his clone all those years ago. Just as she’d likely done to dozens of others in the past.

While the interrogator tried to break his body, the assassin prodded at his mind. He could feel her testing his resolve even as she stood motionless out of the Twi’lek’s way. Could feel her prod and pry at his mental defenses that he kept firmly in place.

When he lifted his eyes to look to her mask, the assassin tilted her head.

“Ataiqo, dear. I want his name.”

He couldn’t help his flinch when the assassin was suddenly in his face and the soulless voids of her mask were staring him straight in the eyes. Then she was gone, and he could hear her rummaging about the room.

Ehna’dissen tsked; Ataiqo only shook her head. “Cybernetics and training block his mind,” she said, and her voice was as quiet as one would imagine. Quiet, as if she were whispering through the shadows themselves. “Unless you want it shattered so we don’t get anything at all, I’ll find another way to get his true identity.”

She tried, and she failed, and even still Xaerez stayed quiet despite threats on his life; despite new wounds and electrocution; despite nails biting into his face and neck and his broken hands. Despite it all, he spoke not a word. His mental defenses remained firmly in place, his jaw stubbornly clamped shut.

The smell of burnt flesh and singed clothes clung in his nose; he was shaking. He couldn’t tell anymore if it was from the cold falling over him, or the aftershocks of Force lightning.

His eyes were dull as he felt his body growing weak—internal bleeding, blood on the floor, it was hard to breathe—but they remained fixed at the far wall, now. He no longer so much as glanced at the assassin, nor the interrogator.

He’d slipped up. He might never get the chance to figure out how, but either way he’d messed up. Given himself away. Given the assassin enough reason to track him and discover where his loyalties truly lay all this time. He only wondered just how long that suspicion had been there.

He couldn’t feel his hands anymore. They were discolored from the lack of oxygenated blood, wouldn’t obey him when he tried to bend his fingers. Broken wrists still bled; all he could do was press them against his stained clothes to try and stem the flow.

His clothes were soaked through with his own sweat and blood, clung painfully into the cuts and scratches scored into his flesh. Clung, to the lightsaber and lightning burns that were getting oh, so hard to ignore. The soaked clothes licked the warmth from his body, worsened the shivers already wracking his weakened frame.

It hurt to breathe. Fractured ribs and a punctured lung flared with pain with each shallow breath. He was slowly drowning in his own blood. Every time he coughed, it was accompanied by an iron tang on his tongue and a glob of blood splattering the floor in front of him.

His head felt too heavy for his shoulders. He couldn’t find the strength to hold it up anymore.

The Twi’lek’s hand found his hair as his head dropped against his chest, pulled it harshly to force him to meet her eyes. They were almost gray. The very same gray of storm clouds that promised only terrible weather.

She was snarling, now.

“Who else you got on Kaas? What the kriffin’ hell you tell ‘em?”

Xaerez managed a weak smile—but really, it looked more like a grimace. His voice was soft. It hurt to speak. “Maybe tell your… ngh… f-friend not to destroy the holo next time.” His voice crackled with each word. The implant in his throat was damaged, kept shifting between his own voice (was it really his voice? he hadn’t heard it in so long, he couldn’t be sure anymore), and that of Verdat.

His head cracked against the floor before he’d even realized her hands were at his throat. Vision swimming, head pounding, arms pinned painfully under his back, he couldn’t find the strength to push her off. Couldn’t find the strength to gasp for air as her nails dug into his skin and fingers left bruises.

The assassin hissed her name, but Ehna’dissen…well. Temper, temper…

“Interrogator” seemed too kind of a word, now. No, no—she was but a child throwing a tantrum when she didn’t get the answers she desired.

He could feel the assassin again, prodding, forcing her will to shove his aside. He didn’t have the strength to block her out anymore. She tore at his defenses until they finally crumbled away—not that it would matter. He was a dead man, now. She’d get nothing of importance before his heart stopped and brain shut down.

As his vision krept to gray, he could at least find solace in the fact that the Commander and her officers knew what was coming.

What he couldn’t find comfort in, however, was the knowledge that he’d lied to Theron. Lied, so many times. “I’ll be home soon,” promised again, and again, and again.

He’d never meant he’d come home in a box.

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

Maybe it was the countless sub-dermal cybernetics that activated to fool them.

Maybe his heart really had stopped.

Maybe he’d really been dead, for but a few moments.

But they left. Left him, crumpled up in a corner as they searched the room before taking off for the city with the data spike in their possession. Left him, bleeding and barely able to move.

They’d left, before he was truly dead.

But he really wasn’t far off.

He was faintly aware of cloth—perhaps his own tattered shirt—tied around his hands. He couldn’t remember if he’d been the one to do it. Maybe he had.

His vision drifted, in andout, as he slowly dragged himself to the holo. It took everything he had to move that mere meter closer. It took everything he had just to reach out with a foot to kick at the hidden panel at the bottom, to kick at the switch revealed when the thin sheet of metal clattered to the floor.

The switch—the emergency switch he so urgently needed—wouldn’t budge. He kicked again—again—again, each time more desperately than the last.

His head fell against the floor as unconsciousness reclaimed him.

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

“—agent—”

A muffled voice, as if there was water in his ears. He couldn’t find the strength to open his eyes even as a warm hand felt at his neck for a pulse.

“—blood transfusion—“

Footsteps near his head—far too near—but he didn’t have the energy to pull away.

“—don’t move him!—”

A hand on his arm. Another found a broken wrist without knowing its state. Shocks of pain raced through his arm and he tried desperately to wrench away from the touch. His limbs wouldn’t obey.

A pinch in his forearm, then the touch finally pulled away.

He felt as if he were shivering. Xaerez had never been one to complain about cold, but…

“—our transport?—”

His hearing implants popped; he could no longer make out what his rescuers were saying. Or, maybe that was the sleep once more claiming his mind…

[voidendron]

collection sale = Oliver loses impulse control and goes on buying + unlocking spree 🤡

this is just a few of the things I unlocked and now my CC are gone again alksjds;dl

[voidendron]

Me, as I play Space Barbie™: lightsabers are so cool!!!

Also me: never fucking uses them because vibroblades

[voidendron]

V'ehsz Legacy: Sith Inquisitors

Qizulth Verryn

He/him - Twi'lek - Lightning Sorcerer/Vengeance Juggernaut

Server: Star Forge, Darth Malgus, Satele Shan

SO: Single

Alignment: Dark, leans gray

My legacy's canon Inquisitor, and received the title of Darth Nox. He was never really content on the Dark Council--too much responsibility, demands that he grow up, and politics--so when he was given the chance to instead head the Alliance's archeological discoveries, he jumped at it. He leads many teams into ancient tombs/etc., protecting them from dangers and ensuring they properly record their discoveries and don't damage anything.

Has one AU version: Role Reversal, in which he's a Jedi.

Ehna'disenn

She/her - Twi'lek - Madness Sorcerer

Server: Star Forge

SO: Single

Alignment: Dark

An interrogator for the Sith Empire, she can break others physically, and mentally, to get the answers she's looking for. She works closely with her sister Ataiqo, Vowrawn's personal assassin. She's trying to find weaknesses in the Alliance so that the Empire can bring it crashing down.

Niveh'era

She/her - Pantoran - Corruption Sorcerer/Seer Sage

Server: Star Forge

SO: Single

Alignment: Light

An archaeological team Nox was on discovered her as a toddler. Nox and his queerplatonic partner took her under their wings, and she grew up to become an Alliance healer with a lot of curiosity and respect for other cultures.

Ataiqo

She/her - Rattataki - Darkness Assassin

Server: Star Forge

SO: Single

Alignment: Dark

After three Wraths' betrayals, the Empire was hard-pressed for someone new--and trustworthy--for the position. Ataiqo was eventually weeded out and, though not given the title of Wrath, she pretty much serves the same function as one with Vowrawn being about the only one who can give her orders while she keeps other high-ranking Imperials in check.

Darjaad

She/they - Keshian (Cyborg) - Hatred Assassin

Server: Star Forge

SO: Single

Alignment: Dark

Considers herself Sith, but not Imperial. She does things for her own gain and felt tethered by faction loyalties and political squabbles. Untrustworthy at best, stab-you-when-you're-not-looking at worst.

[voidendron]

oh, this is Ataiqo when she's in Assassin Mode™ btw 👀

and how she looks in that WIP snippet with Xaerez

^ and so you can get a look at her face

[voidendron]

for the first oc questions meme: appearance 4, relationships 2, facts 1 + whichever oc you’re feeling like answering!

thank you!! 💚💜 I'll use Ataiqo for this since I haven't really talked about her before

Appearance 4: what’s their “aesthetic”?

She's like the living embodiment of shadows - what they'd be if they suddenly came to life around you. She's quiet, her voice barely louder than a whisper, and her presence alone is enough to make one's blood run cold.

Relationships 2: do they have a lot of friends, or not so many?

She mostly keeps to herself. Really her only friend is Ehna, as the two consider each other sisters - they grew up together - but anyone else only sees Ataiqo's silent, assassin of a self. Most people never even hear her speak.

Facts 1: what do they always carry?

She has a staff that she's literally never seen without - the teeth on the end can clamp together, and electricity dances around them.

it's her weapon of choice, and heavier than it looks.

She also carries some poisons on her for more subtle assassinations.

[OC Questions]

[OC List]

[voidendron]

never thought I’d enjoy playing healers yet here I am with four so far ajkdl;sjdk

meet the V’ehsz Legacy healers: Melina Tophrik (Jedi Sage), K’hedif (Scoundrel), Veir Tro (Mercenary), and Ataiqo (Sith Sorcerer who I cropped really badly so now she looks tiny. dammit)

I have short bios for all but Ataiqo (not sure where I’ll fit her in with the rest of my toons, though I’m considering??? having her as one of Key’s apprentices?? she’s certainly got his snark) I just have to get around to actually finishing them up so I can post the second part to the legacy’s characters, and she’ll be put in the third part

idk. as someone whose usual go-to is stealth/snipers, healers are a big change from what I’m used to and I wasn’t expecting to love them so much ;;