#vinn atrius

[eorzeashan]

Conspiracy, Pt. 1

How he managed to discover his stint as a traitor early on, Theron didn’t know. 

Leave it up to the ex-Cipher to have skills far beyond his ken or the perception needed to see past his motives as only another Intelligence agent of his caliber could.

Disappointing as it was, Theron remained fully prepared to force his way out of the Alliance if needed; it would only serve his case as a traitor, and he was in too deep to back out now. He might’ve expected this, even. 

“Take me with you.”

What he did not expect Eight to have was the gall to ask him to come with. 

Theron had no intention of endangering someone else on such a risky mission, already excluding the glaring issues of how in Force’s name he’d swing it to the rest of the Order. The Alliance could live without Theron Shan, washed up spy, traitor to the cause, but its Outlander? Absolutely not. 

He flatly refused.

Eight hadn’t so much as budged. Take me with you, he’d repeated with not an ounce of doubt or uncertainty, I need to leave the Alliance. 

Now that had raised Theron’s brows past his hairline. 

They’d argued about it, if one could call quiet tenacity a type of arguing, until Eight interrupted his tirade about how he wasn’t going to smuggle him off Odessen no matter how bad this looked with a stern glance and tilt of his snow capped head towards Theron’s holocom buzzing in his pocket. 

“This is an SIS matter now,” He declared, and the statement knocked the wind out of Theron’s stomach. Their Eight, ever-so Imperial, loyal Eight, …was a double-agent for the Republic. Not that he had any right to call him out for it, being caught red-handed in the middle of traitorous activities.

“By whose authorization?” Theron asked testily.

-/-/-/-/-/-

ODESSEN, PRIVATE ROOM

“This is a surprise,” Theron said, schooling his features back into impenetrable stoicism. “Ardun Kothe.”

“In the flesh,” The former spymaster gave a professional smile- one that didn't reach past the crow’s feet of his wizened eyes. “Or not quite.” He chuckled, the flickering blue holo-figure of his form pacing back and forth in the palm of Theron’s hand. 

Theron observed him with thinly veiled wariness. 

SIS spymaster. Former Jedi. Failed leader of a resistance cell whose movements went mysteriously unchecked and wiped from the system. Theron had been well on his way to joining him in a similar fashion– then Ziost happened. 

All the less to trust the man before him. “So what's this about? I thought the SIS cut ties with me by now, but clearly-” He gesticulated around the bare room, shifting uncomfortably. “-that's not the case.”

Ardun nodded curtly to Eight in the background, who mirrored the same gesture to his former cell leader. He turned back to Theron. “Not a pleasure call, that's for certain.” He gave pause. “I take it you're familiar with the Empire's experiments in brainwashing– says here you've done a bit of work in attaining samples– and you've met our Cipher.”

A knot of unease formed above Theron’s brow. He glanced askance at Eight, who still masked his expression with the same unflappable look he always wore. “...Where are you going with this?” 

“I’m contacting you now because Director Trant believes in you.” Ardun continued, words rolling off the timbre of his steady voice. “Between the two of us, Agent Shan, all this talk of traitors and who’s betraying who- that's all a cover.” 

Theron’s jaw tightened. “It's really not.” The reply came out shorter than intended.

Kothe shrugged. “Maybe so. But can you say you're not acting in the best interests of the Republic even now? That you’ve left your old home behind for good? You're short of allies, and you’ve cut yourself loose. Don’t be afraid to know where help is– where it always was. You'll need it in the coming days. I’m offering you a way back in. Saresh is gone, and Marcus needs your skills back where they belong.”

The help doesn't usually punish me for trying to save lives, but sure, he mused bitterly, recalling Saresh’s interference and grounding of his work. 

So. The SIS was trying to make a back deal now that he’d exonerated himself from Alliance services officially. He couldn't say he didn't miss the Republic or the feeling of being on familiar ground, and he’d be lying if the prospect of returning to his old job and undoing all of the damage Saresh had done during her career didn't spark more than interest in him, but…

Theron fell silent. “No. This is something I have to do on my own.”

Ardun didn't seem surprised. “I understand. The SIS will respect whatever decision you choose, Agent. But this isn't just from the SIS; it comes from inside the house. Whatever you plan to do…we want you to succeed.” 

The old ex-Jedi winked over his shoulder at him. “We’re leaving you with a little favor, off the books and off-record; use it wisely.” Ardun clasped his hands behind his back, gaze flinty and uncompromising. “Keyword: Onomatophobia. Thesh protocol, phase one.”

Behind Theron, Eight fell to one knee. His expression looked like he’d been struck.

Theron whirled around. “Eight–? Whoa, what's wrong?” 

Eight failed to answer him. “Thesh protocol engaged. Shutting down.” He repeated robotically. The light faded from the other agent’s eyes– then nothing. 

“Eight?”

No answer. 

“Hey. Wake up.” He grabbed him by the shoulders, shaking him slightly. Eight didn't respond, limp in his arms like a lifeless doll. No. This was wrong. He needed to get Lana, Eight was–

Horror dawned on Theron’s features as he took a furtive step back, expression quickly morphing from confusion, to open shock, then finally to white hot anger. 

Eight had repeated Ardun’s words like a pre-programmed droid. Eight wasn't waking up. There was a keyword–

Brainwashing. Brainwashing. That was what he meant. That was what he’d been alluding to this entire time. The cold pit of his stomach opened up to icy bone-cutting dread, and he turned on Ardun with a blazing fury. 

“What have you done, Kothe?!” He shouted, voice echoing off the walls. 

The spymaster only smiled, wan and thin. “He’ll be susceptible to commands after he awakens. Use them wisely,” Ardun reminded him, his holo-figure warping as it lost connection.

“No,” He enunciated, hard and low and angry, “No! Don't you dare hang up- Kothe! KOTHE!” The holocall cut out. Theron yelled, slamming his fist where the holo had been. Crunch. 

His hand came back covered in broken communicator parts. He stared at it, then hung his head. Theron punched the table again, this time much weaker, all the fight having left his body with no one to direct it at it. 

Eight was still asleep, and he was alone, with no help coming and an ever-growing list of betrayals that he’d signed off on. 

“Dammit,” He covered his face with his hands. A slight tremor ran through them. “Damn it all to hell.”

-/-/-/-/-/-

The flight after was filled with stony silence. 

The first words Eight had uttered upon awakening had been “awaiting orders”. 

Theron promptly shut the pilot’s door on him. 

He felt bad about it, sure, but his head felt fit to burst with the conflicting emotions and sheer range of thoughts all coalescing into one throbbing headache that made him want to scream. He thanked the stars he still kept a spare bottle of n’etra gal around, a gift from his father around the time of the Ascendancy Spear, yet he never dreamed he’d be popping it open for reasons like this. 

It took about half of the bottle and their flight time for Theron to feel ready to address the bantha in the room again, and even then he wanted to avoid it like the rakghoul plague. 

Sure enough, on the other side of the cabin door was Eight, a deeply apologetic look on his face, hands fisted in the comforter as he meekly muttered “awaiting orders,” as if that were the only phrase in his vocabulary. 

The spy eyed him with condolences. “So,” Theron sighed, plopping down on the other side of the bed next to him, “How does this work? You can’t do anything until I tell you to, or…” He waved dismissively, letting his hands fall back down to his thighs. 

Eight considered this in deep thought. He shrugged. “Awaiting orders,” Eight said.

“Yeah… I got that part.”

Kothe hadn’t been lying about his instructions at the very least, but Theron wished he had. Gift my ass, he inwardly swore. You stuck both of us with a ticking time bomb and no way to defuse it except to take it far, far away. 

Who knew if Kothe had already pre-programmed Eight all this time to act as an unwilling mole? 

Either way, Theron couldn’t leave him behind in the Alliance. As long as Eight was compromised, he needed to be extracted. Any number of their enemies could take advantage of his fragile mental state, and Theron was not going to hand their best fighter to them on a silver platter… nor would he subject a long-time ally to something so heinous. 

He slid a hand down his unshaved face, half-expecting to feel stress wrinkles forming beneath his fingertips. Eight looked at him with worry across the bed.

This was the SIS’ game: saddle Theron with a liability he couldn’t get rid of so easily, and if he did, completely undermine the Alliance from within with it. Not a bad play, ruining their Outlander like that. 

But Theron wasn’t so easily done in; as far as he was concerned, nothing had changed save for a slight wrinkle in the plan. Vinn Atrius still needed to be stopped, and the Alliance was still in danger. Eight being his unintended and unwilling partner-in-crime didn’t steer them off course, although he had to make some serious adjustments.

He’d just have to wing the part about both of them joining the Order of Zildrog.

“Well, if I have to give you orders…”

-/-/-/-/-/-

NATHEMA

“We had a deal, Theron.” Vinn Atrius’ voice took on an edge– the man himself glared daggers at Theron, as if imagining crushing the other into a flattened pancake beneath his heel. 

“I know, I know, just–” Theron put his hands up placatingly. “Hear me out. He’s on our side. We both didn’t like how the Alliance was being run–”

“What sort of fool do you take me for, Shan?” Vinn hissed, the air around him crackling with suppressed fury. The hairs on Theron’s arm stood on end. “Did you really think I would believe two of the Alliance’s top founders would defect, much less their hunting dog?” He threw a disgusted glare at Eight, who feigned ignorance in the corner of the barren base.

Vinn crowded further into Theron’s space, a hulking mass of boiling rage. “Your arrogance knows no bounds; I should kill the both of you right here and now!” He shouted into the spy’s face, finger stabbing into his chest with each spat syllable. 

“Whoa, whoa, easy there, big guy,” Theron fought to maintain his composure, even as he backed up until his spine met the wall. Vinn’s massive frame loomed over him. “That hunting dog is tired of being under the Alliance’s yoke. You don’t know this, but it wasn’t his decision to fight for them. He owes them his life. Just as he owes me.” 

“And? Am I supposed to be convinced that he won’t slaughter us all in our sleep?” Vinn scowled. “You speak of disillusion, yet this man murdered our Emperor– our entire royal lineage without a second thought.” The knight slammed his fist into the moss-covered wall beside Theron’s head. “He is responsible for all of it!”

“If you want someone to blame, blame Arcann!” Theron rebutted, eyes flashing. He balled his fists. “He’s the one who started all this. The rest of us were caught in the crossfire of your family conflict, remember?” Theron straightened to his full height in the face of Vinn’s rage, unwilling to be cowed. “The Outlander was framed for everything Arcann did, including the assassination of your beloved Emperor. Arcann and the Alliance used him to eliminate their enemies. He has more reason than any of us to be here–!”

“Know your place, fool!” Vinn roared, igniting his polesaber. 

Theron fell silent, realizing he’d gone a step too far. 

“If you remain so intent on proving his innocence…” 

Vinn suddenly faced Eight, who reacted with alarm; the knight formed a claw with his dominant hand and pulled. Eight dug his heels into the ground and resisted, but he was no match for the Force without a shield. He zipped to the knight unceremoniously. 

As soon as he was in reach, Vinn caught him by the wrist and violently yanked it upward. Surprise morphed into one of pain as Vinn hyperextended his arm well above his head, gripping hard enough to bruise. His feet dangled; Atrius was a much larger opponent in both width and height. Even in such a position, Eight withheld a cry of pain, unwilling to give Vinn the satisfaction of sadism. He bared his teeth at the knight. 

Vinn decided he didn’t like the look, and tightened his grip on Eight’s wrist, hard enough to purple the skin. His polesaber ignited beside them with a hum, bathing Eight’s pained expression in a militant blue. Theron’s eyes widened to saucers as Vinn raised his saber hand to strike.

“WAIT!”

Theron hadn’t realized the shout came from his own throat, desperate as it was. 

Vinn’s saber stopped inches away from contact. Eight didn’t move.

“Wait,” He repeated, this time, far hoarser, “You don’t have to hurt him. There’s collateral.” A trickle of sweat rolled down his cheek. 

“Speak,” Vinn said imperiously.

He swallowed the lump in his throat. His eyes met with Eight’s, who appeared as unsteady as he felt. And yet, the other operative must have read his intentions, for the light of understanding entered the void of his gaze. Hesitant, yet barely noticeable, he nodded to Theron.

He wet his parched and cracked lips.

Vinn’s lightsaber still hovered, pulsing with blue light.

“We took...countermeasures. Insurance. There’s…a codeword that ensures obedience.” Vinn frowned, but Theron noticed the gleam of ambition in his gaze. He quickened the pace. “If I tell him not to betray us, he has to obey. He’s not a threat. I promise.” 

Sure enough, Eight hung uselessly in Vinn’s hold, not a hint of hostility to be found. Were this any other situation, the ex-Cipher would have attacked him by now– had Theron not taken that into account.

Perfectly aware of his record for lethality, Theron had briefed him prior to the meeting to let him handle the Order at all costs. Granted, it left the other unable to defend himself, but Eight understood that the matter was too delicate to do it the usual asskicking way, and Theron had been working this case for months. It had sounded like common sense at the time.

Now he slightly regretted that decision, knowing what it sowed.

The fact that he trusted him still even at the current threat of injury…Theron had to spare him any amount of suffering. Yet sharing the secret of Eight’s susceptibility was playing exactly into their hands, and he didn’t know how to stop the sinking feeling that he was trading one evil for another, staining his tarnished record black– except it would be Eight paying the price, not him. His skin turned clammy.

“A codeword,” Vinn echoed, almost reverent. He de-ignited his polesaber.  “How very like you outlanders, to be as backstabbing and manipulative as you claim.”

“Yeah.” Theron pressed his lips together into a thin, bloodless line. “So let go of him.”

The Zakuulan arched an unimpressed brow.

“Please.” He added, quieter.

Vinn examined Eight with a newfound curiosity, then released him from his grasp. 

Eight rubbed his wrist and glanced upwards at Vinn with a mixed expression. Theron didn’t let him entertain any vengeful thoughts of violence, as much as he himself wanted to blast Vinn to bits. He lunged forward and yanked the other spy to his side well out of Vinn’s reach. The knight’s eyes tracked him all the way behind Theron.

“If we’re done chopping arms off, can we get back to business?” Theron asked tentatively, hiding the sheer discomfort he felt lingering in the air like a caustic smog. His fingers tapped nervously on Eight’s wrist, still holding onto where Vinn had squeezed dark bruising into his skin. 

Eight peered warily over his shoulder at the Zakuulan knight, though Theron could feel his eyes boring a questioning look into his back every few glances. 

Vinn Atrius folded his impressive arms over his chestplate. “...Very well.” He turned with a dramatic swish of his cape. “The Adegan crystals. You know what to do.” 

“They’re yours,” Theron answered all-too quickly, wanting nothing more than to put a close to this disastrous meeting. 

“One last thing, Shan.”

“One last–?” 

“Leave the Outlander here.”

Theron tensed. “No.”

“I am not so foolish as to allow both of you in the field. He will be monitored.” Vinn stared at him with disdain through his nose. Theron glared back. 

Vinn scoffed. “It’s that or the codeword. Unlike you savage outlanders, I can spare your friend the humiliation of what Lady Vaylin suffered–” He looked balefully upon Eight. “--though he deserves it. Make your priorities clear, Theron, or I’ll make all your decisions for you and him.”

Theron floundered for a mental foothold. A thousand bad scenarios raced through his mind. Neither of these were options, they were ultimatums. Ones he had no control over, no guarantee of safety. Leaving Eight alone with the enemy was tantamount to killing him with his own hands. Giving him the codeword even moreso. 

Atrius tapped his foot impatiently.

He doubted his intentions enough as it was, but Theron couldn’t give him leverage. A hostage, of all things. Who was playing who? Now Theron was caught by the tail in both the Order and the SIS. There was no winning if he agreed. Yet the longer he let hesitation take hold, the more he could sense the suspicion growing from the former Horizon Guard, who looked ready to take Eight away from him by force any second now. 

A sharp tug on his sleeve pulled him out of his anxiety-riddled thoughts. Eight wore a non-expression that gave little away, irises as dark as the black sand beaches of Rishi. 

Theron’s brows steepled quizzically. He felt his heart rate lowering looking at the serene canvas that Eight’s countenance was. Always unflappable, calm, strong. How many times had they come to rely on his detachedness? His ability to face any threat with nigh a hint of fear in him? His eternal resilience, with the scars to prove it?

Theron gripped his chest. The fabric crumpled between his fingers. He’d promised him he wouldn’t have to bear their burdens anymore, and he was already failing.

Eight let the silence hang between them until the panic in Theron’s chest subsided to a dull ache. Then, like a gust of fresh wind clearing the unbreathable miasma from the air, he spoke. 

“It’s alright.” He released his sleeve. “I can stay.”

Theron blinked at him, not comprehending. He shook his head vigorously. “I can’t let you-”

“He’s made his decision,” Vinn brusquely interrupted, muscling between them. Theron was shoved aside, tripping backwards on his heels as Vinn obscured Eight behind the curtain of his humongous cape.  “Now make yours.” He glowered. “I have no time for dogs who come to lick the scraps from my heels.” 

Theron grit his teeth. They ground against each other. He felt like a wounded hound who’d just been thrown out of the ring after a knockout. Screw you, asshole. 

“Wait. Just… let me say goodbye, at least.” He said quickly, clinging to the last chance they’d have at communication. 

The corner of Vinn’s lip curled upwards. Theron took his lack of objection as a yes. 

He scrambled to remove his jacket, internally apologizing to Eight for not washing it sooner and praying that it didn’t smell too bad. Eight’s gaze was bright and curious as Theron draped the classic red jacket over his shoulders.

“Keep it with you,” Theron ordered, hand stopping to rest over the familiar worn leather that now rested on Eight’s smaller frame, “Whatever you do, don’t lose it. Okay?”

Eight seemed to get the memo. He nodded, short and sharp.

Theron gave him a small pat, hand hovering for a moment before falling to his side. He stepped back. 

He was sure Eight was lost on why Theron was fawning over him like a lover– they were never what one could call “close” in the first place, and anything between them was more business than personal. Even the few moments they shared as partners in crime were distant at best, and Theron wasn’t going to lie about the emotional unavailability of their relationship. 

But staring at Eight now, he mostly felt regret. He knew next to nothing still about the ex-Imperial. Even yelled at him a couple times for actions he didn’t approve of (which he wished he could rescind, as Eight no longer ambushed his quieter moments out of mischief and had taken to interacting with him purely out of necessity after). But that didn’t mean he wanted the last time he ever saw him alive to be…like this. Theron drooped. 

No one had ever asked Eight’s reasons for fighting for them as their Outlander, him included. Turned out it wasn’t fair of them to ask everything of one person and give nothing in return but scathing remarks and more demands for the sake of their own lofty ideals.

When Eight killed the royal family of Zakuul, finally did the dirty deed and shed blood in their name, no one had been there. They’d turned their backs on him. A little bit of darkness, and the Alliance abandoned him completely in order to keep their shiny coats clean.

He had been their scapegoat, their hero, their alibi, and their sacrificial lamb all in one. 

Theron couldn’t even call him a friend. 

“We will contact you as soon as you have the crystals. Be ready by sundown.” Vinn carelessly tossed him a burner holocomm. “But know this: make one wrong move, and you forfeit your friend’s freedom. Betray us, and it will be his life. Is that clear?” Vinn’s voice was low, simmering with the threat. Eight, still in his grasp, flicked his uncertain gaze to the SIS agent. 

“...I understand.” He flexed his hands reflexively, wanting to act, do more than gawk like a moron while Vinn had his way. 

Vinn hauled Eight away by the bicep, the other forced to stumble awkwardly along due to the sheer height difference. He stopped just outside the entryway to the temporary hideout. “See that you do, Shan.” Eight’s pitying look followed him all the way until he and Atrius disappeared around the corner. Yet Vinn’s arrogant voice floated to him until they were out of earshot, ringing hollowly in his ears. “...See that you do.”

-/-/-/-/-/-

UMBARA

“The traitor’s just beyond that door.” 

Lana doggedly marched ahead of Theron, anticipation and eagerness rolling off her demeanor. 

Theron performed a simple sweep, carefully stalking behind the vulnerability of her open back. He had a wider area to cover today given the noticeable absence of their mutual friend, who ordinarily would be taking point adjacent to him. At the thought of Eight, a wrinkle formed in Theron’s brow.

Lana had chalked his missing status up to wanderlust, though it sparked no end to muttered threats about what an earful she would give him on his return. 

Theron knew better; Eight’s eccentric habits made it easy to spin a white lie about his whereabouts. The ex-Cipher had a tendency to avoid the Alliance and its “menial” tasks on his off-days, but as a result, made it difficult to locate him in order to avoid being saddled with the bureaucratic duties he and Lana shared simply because he had “no talent” for it, and only came into the base to head missions more relevant to his skills.

Ones that involved gratuitous amounts of violence, mostly. Any work past the bare listed minimum had Eight disappearing the moment their back was turned. Theron wished he could do that with his paperwork, but alas, he was not afforded such special treatment. 

“It’s as if he’s purposefully making our lives difficult,” Lana had thrown up her hands in frustration, paperwork scattering in the air as she slumped backwards in her chair when he gave her the news. “Just… tell me when he gets back. And no more of his excuses, do you hear me?”

It was almost cruel to obfuscate the truth from her.

The opening hiss of a pneumatic door signaled to him the trap was laid; Lana stepped inside, aghast. She lowered her lightsaber, glancing around the empty car with a muddled look on her ordinarily composed face. Not a soul inside. Her confident bloodlust dissipated into thin air, and with it, her only lead. The quarry was…gone?

“What-?” She asked aloud, failing to notice the traitor inching forward at her back.

It took a split-second. The Force screamed at her. She reacted, drawing her lightsaber in an instant. The blaster bolt deflected off the crimson edge and back at her attacker–

“Theron?!” She cried out, disbelieving. Yet she could only confirm the sordid truth as rayshielded walls fell around her, the blaster bolt dissipating uselessly against it. Theron Shan, her trusted ally turned traitor. Her golden eyes fell to the smoking blaster in his hand, pointed straight ahead. Her face fell. He’d attempted to shoot her. In the back. 

She forced down the humiliation that welled up in her for falling for something so obvious, even as he stared at her from the other side of the rayshield with a grim expression, his aura tainted with a nebulous feeling that twisted and roiled in the Force. 

How could he–? After all they’d been through…no, no– this made no sense. Lana controlled her breathing. She knew Theron. 

She needed an explanation, and she needed one now. 

“What in the blazes are you doing?” Lana hissed at him, saber thrumming with the anger that pulsed in her chest like a fractured kyber heart. Her tone bordered on electric, dancing with the imminent danger of her withheld wrath. 

Theron sighed and lowered his blaster. “Stalling you,” He explained, as if faced with an unsavory chore. “I’m sorry, Lana. I should’ve done this long ago. It’s past time we ended this.” He set his wrist comp’s internal clock. “In a few minutes, this train will collide with the side of the mountain, and I’ll be gone. For what it’s worth…” His expression grew sympathetic. “It's been an honor to fight by your side.” 

Lana stuttered. “I don’t– I don’t understand.” Hurt colored her pallid cheeks. “Theron, tell me what’s going on. We can talk about this.” 

Theron appeared pained at her words. He looked away, shifting uncomfortably. When he lifted his eyes to meet hers again, they were filled with an uncountable tiredness to them that Lana had not seen before. “...The Alliance, Lana. We can’t do this anymore. It has to end. That starts,” He narrowed his embittered eyes, “with you.”

Theron took Lana’s speechlessness as a cue to continue, a sudden zeal replacing the deep melancholy that had previously dominated his features. His tone picked up. 

“Our goal was Zakuul, but now that the real threat is gone, we’ve lost sight of who we are–and that isn’t the next galactic superpower.” He paced in front of her, the angry red of the rayshield casting him in a harsher light than Lana had ever seen before. “I won’t stand by and watch it turn into the next Empire, Lana. We’ve sacrificed too much to go on like this, and if the Alliance is another tool for grinding good men and women into dust…then it needs to be torn down.” 

“That’s not-”

“And with the way things are going, we’re destined to return to the status quo by the next cycle.” Theron pierced her with his steely gaze. “Am I wrong?”

Lana froze, grip tightening on the hilt of her uselessly hanging blade. Theron’s eyes bore into hers. She could sense no regret, no point of return from his words. Yet the longer he spoke, the colder the tendrils of despair seemed to become, winding themselves around her veins, chilling her to the bone with this sinking feeling. Betrayal. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Lana tried, failing to understand. For all her eloquence, in this moment she was truly at a loss for words. It was as if her tongue weighed duracrete, locked down by an invisible force that choked her very lungs. 

Lana Beniko had never been trusting in the traditional sense, but it was Theron whom she shared more than one battle with. More than one war with. She’d thought…

Theron’s eyes widened, then lowered. “I…” He turned away, facing his back to her. Lana could see the visible slump in his broad shoulders, the way they hung like he carried the weight of the world. 

She’d seen that same back working tirelessly on those nights when they burned the midnight oil together monitoring operations, Lana’s other bastion within the Alliance besides Koth and their errant swordsman, the one who had brought them together in the first place. The irony was almost laughable. 

Theron a traitor, Eight a distant specter in their Alliance, and herself, saddled with the immeasurable burden of leadership…their little group was falling apart by the seams. 

Perhaps that was her own fault, for trusting them through shared history alone. How could she have been so foolish to assume they were anything but enemies waiting for their chance to strike once the specter of Zakuul had been removed? 

It was then Lana realized she’d overlooked a vital detail. A huge, glaring mistake, that she should have noticed sooner. 

“Theron,” She spoke slowly, hesitantly, yet impossible to ignore with its underlying edge,  “Where is Eight?”

[commander-krios]

The Nathema Conspiracy

[inyri]

❛ their blood is on your hands. ❜

(I promised I'd get to these! This one's got a little bit of a throwback to another prompt fill from about a thousand years ago...)

She should have been watching him. 

She should have been watching him but instead, as the GEMINI unit sparks and collapses, she stands staring at the smoldering chambers as her stomach twists itself into knots. She knows those faces, locked now into open-mouthed rigor. She knows them. Knew them.

Theron was right. Of course he was right. You have no idea, he’d said on Copero, her hand on his mouth and her heart in his teeth, how deep this thing goes, Nine. No idea.

She hadn’t. She thought she had, but-

She should have been watching Atrius. He wasn’t dead and she knows that, knows better than to turn her back on a wounded enemy. Instead, she’s looking up at Marcus fucking Trant, may the Void devour him, when Lana screams out a warning; she turns, too late, as the tip of a Force pike rips through Theron from back to front. He drops like a stone, on hands and knees, crawling, and then his arms give way and she is running, running but not fast enough to catch him before he collapses. 

For a moment she thinks of Asylum and the memory of it alone staggers her mid-stride. Even with Valkorion still in her head then, even with all his power keeping her alive, it was agony. Theron doesn’t have that, doesn’t have anything but himself-  oh, stars, they were so close. So close to the end of this terrible year, so close to him finally, finally coming home. To lose him now-

Lana’s pulling him clear now, his head lolling to one side, a bright halo already coalescing around her before another, brighter light in the periphery of her vision finally forces her to look away from him. (She cannot. She cannot. If he stops breathing while she isn’t looking, if he dies-) 

“Their blood is on your hands, Commander.” Atrius gestures broadly around him, at the broken bodies that fueled Zildrog and upward, outward as she imagines the sky full of the pieces of what was once the Eternal Fleet. “His blood-” he points toward Theron (still breathing, still breathing, oh, please keep breathing, love, just a little longer)- “is on your hands.”

She racks her rifle and draws her blade. A blade did little against a machine-god, but he is no machine and no god and she will rip him to pieces for this. “No,” she says. “No. But yours is about to be.” 

[anchanted-one]

Playing the Nathema conspiracy again.

Words can't describe how much I hate this arc. Sorry for the rant.

1. Reset button. The whole arc is a reset button designed to wipe zakuul and all KOTFEET plot points right off the board. To pretend, poorly, that it never happened. If you really wanted that done, just have us blow up the fleet while sacrificing the Gravestone. Only thing left is Zakuul's offscreen destruction.

2. Leaves us looking really foolish and incompetent. In just a matter of months, the Order of Zildrog manages to do what we couldn't in the main campaign. Songs are sung across the galaxy of how we, the player characters, had ultimate power in our grasp only for it to be snatched away by a relatively small cult.

3. A Gemini droid. A fucking Scorpio Clone. The ghost of that smug robot had to rear its head one last time. Not like i was itching for more self-important droid (AI is getting on my nerves irl as well). And she won. Got what she wanted

4. Vinn Atrius. A final reminder that Zakuul worships Valkorion. And sees us as having thrown the first punch. Heck, Zakuul even tells us we can fuck off now, since we no longer have a fleet. If the rival faction turns up to destroy them, I'd love to be the one to tell Vinn the tragic news. Remind him that destroying the alliance ironically led to Zakuul's final destruction. Like Gemini, he too accomplished his objective.

5. The nathema mission itself. Yet another moment when Force users forget they can use it. Literally drop the ceiling on zildrog! That would ending the stupid plot. And the idea of the secret allies... we don't know half of them, and the rest were irrelevant. Like Mortis. Why is he back? Now, of all times? And what's his beef with Lana?

6. The plot was way too dumb, and required our characters to be proportionately dumber. Even the villains suffer from this when needed. Theron alone could've foiled it in several different ways, since the 5D chess players trusted him so easily.

7. I just hate the Theron "betrayal" and the possible execution.

[tremendouskoalachild]

in celebration of learning Lyn's name: _in, _inn, _yn and _ynn names in star wars! not including minor mmo characters, rpgs, and source books (there are so many tho)

bold for on-screen characters (not including niche background characters no one knows), small for legends-only characters

✔ Binn (Ibes), jedi apprentice; Bin (Essada), splinter of the mind's eye

✔ Cin (Drallig), prequels; Cyn (Jodu), 1977 comic; Cyn, darth vader black white and red; (Ardana) Cinn, 2013 comic

✔ Din (Djarin and Grogu), mandoverse; (Orgus) Din, swtor

✔ Finn, sequels; Fyn, tcw tie-in novel; Fynn (Torve), thrawn trilogy; Finn, star wars tales; Finn, legacy; Finn, 1977 comic; Finn (Galfridian), invasion; Finn (Vaal), lost tribe of the sith; Finn (Tegotash), tcw; Finn (Ertay), tcw

✔ Gin (Lesl), swtor webcomic; Gin (Scraf), planet of twilight

✔ Hin, splinter of the mind's eye

✔ Jyn (Erso), rogue one; Jyn (Obah), droids; Jinn (Reeso), tpm racer; (Qui-Gon) Jinn, prequels

✔ (Tulu and Drola) Kinn, fotj; Kinn (Zih), lego tfa; Kin (Kian), rotj; Kin (Robb), tcw

✔ Lyn, obi-wan kenobi and tales of the empire; Lyn (Me), rotj; Lin (Gaava), resistance; Lyn (Sekla), kotor; (Arden) Lyn, masters of teräs käsi; (Koley) Linn, thr

✔ Myn (Weaver), ahsoka; Minn (Ishkah), swtor; Minn, canto bight; Myn (Donos), x-wing novels; Myn (Kyneugh), rotj

✔ Nin, jedi apprentice

??? P

✔ Qin, the mandalorian; Qin (Yazal), tcw;

✔ Rin, swtor; Rinn, thr; Rinn, age of republic; (Chorto) Rinn, swtor

✔ (Zareb and Jariah) Syn, legacy; (Sorzus) Syn, ltots spiral; (Mirith and Jahren) Sinn, crimson empire; Sin(tas Vel), blood ties; (Cariaga) Sin, kotor; (Karr Nuq) Sin, force collector

??? T

✔ Vin, thr; Vin, republic commando; Vin (Nothos), rebellion comic; Vinn, tor novels; Vinn (Atrius), swtor; Vyn (Asara), swtor; Vyn (Holpur), fotj; Vyn (Narcassan), x-wing novels

✔ Wynn (Dorvan), fotj; Wyn(ssa Fel), njo; (Uthar) Wynn, kotor

✔ Xin (Baliss), swtor; (Torvin) Xyn, njo

??? Y

✔ Zinn (Paulness), tcw; Zinn (Toa), tcw; Zin (Graw), TIE fighter; (Axela) Zin, fotj; Zyn, swtor; Zyn (Javeb), prequels

[queen-scribbles]

bound, break, skin for Jaaide and maybe also AJ?

Ohoho, these two are both excellent for these questions. :3

bound: Has your OC ever been imprisoned or captured? What happened? How did they get out? Did the experience leave any scars?

Jaaide was imprisoned by the Castellan Restraints(inflicted by her own people :) ), and then there's the five years in carbonite thanks to Arcann, and briefly, technically, captured by Heta's forces on Ruhnuk. The Castellan Restraints left mental scars after she reconditioned herself, there haven't been any long term effects from the carbonite, but she did deal with nausea for a while immediately after Lana freed her(and sometimes forgets how old she is bc those 5 years feel like they "don't count"; she has to do the "What year is it? And I was born in...? Making me...." math). Nothing even short term from the Ruhnuk one bc of how fast Rass saved her neck.

AJ was captured by Murphy in book 1, wriggled herself free before running into Unit Bravo, and she has a deep-seated fear of being retrained now, as well as the bite scars on the side of her neck. (Also some lingering trauma from watching him beat Nate unconscious. No, knowing about vampire superhealing--and that Nate's is extra good--does not help)

break: What would cause your OC to break down completely? What do they look like when that happens? Has anyone ever seen them at their lowest?

Jaaide it's one of two things: either failing at her long-term goal of bringing down the Empire and seeing that everything she's spent a decade working and sacrificing toward that end was for nothing or losing Theron. Whether that's death-type losing Theron or she says/does something that makes him turn on her for real. There was a taste of the latter during the Fractured Alliances arc; she takes insomniac workaholic to a whole new level, is half a step from a complete non-functioning wreck. Theron's seen her at her lowest bc.... well, he didn't put her there but he def rubbed salt in the wound. Her lowest was post-Onslaught, when a whole bunch of civilians died bc she said the wrong thing and didn't talk Darth Krovos out of bombing Corellia. Add Theron yelling at her for something she already felt massively guilty over(one of their only real fights. :)))) ) and that was probably the lowest she's gotten.

AJ it would be failing to protect someone, especially someone she cares about a lot. She felt horribly guilty when Bobby got sick in b2 and she kinda loathes him; if something horrible happened to, say, Nate or Felix or her mum in a scenario where it's even 3% possible for her to blame herself, she's gonna break down. Lots of tears, streaky red face bc she's an ugly crier, either self-imposed exile bc she just gets people hurt OR driving herself unreasonably hard to set it right. Like, we're talking almost-killing-herself hard. Adam needs to have a talk with her hard. Her lowest point so far is when she was crying over the missing posters in b3, so no one saw her, but she called Nate, so he heard her, if that counts.

skin: How comfortable is your OC in their skin? Do they grapple with anything that lives inside them—a beast, a curse, a failure, a monster? How do they face the smallest, weakest, most horrible version of themself? Are they able to acknowledge it at all?

They're both pretty comfortable in their skin. You could say Jaaide grapples with what she knows she's capable of; the rage that tore Vinn Atrius to (figurative) shreds for trying to kill Theron, the manipulation that's turned people against their own families, but she knows just bc she's capable of those things doesn't mean she's going to use them.

AJ doesn't have anything(yet? there are some hints for book 4 that are 👀), and I don't think either of them's truly had to face the worst version of themselves yet. And I don't think AJ would be able to acknowledge it without facing it. She knows she's not perfect, but idk how she'd handle the absolute worst version of herself.

Not So Nice Asks

[imperial-topaz2003]

Is the Eternal Alliance nothing but a cult of personality?

Ok, this is an interesting one. At first, I didn't think much about it, but now...yeah, it kinda is?

Now, I'm not saying it's 100% undeserved. I mean, you do play as one of eight intergalactic heroes who already had a solid reputation at the very least. So, there's a good chance that some would be naturally attracted to this alliance. That being said, it does feel a bit like a cult, even if you do the light side commander route. Looking back in KOTFE/ET, it does feel like a LOT of the Alliance revolves around the Outlander alone and the decisions they make. Even Lana is somewhat passive to your choices, and I feel like she'd speak out more if you were more DS leaning. I mean, as much as I hate Koth as a character, it was understandable as to why he'd leave. Now, whether or not this is a good or bad thing, I can't say. Personally, I think that depends on the playthrough and how the player sees things. On one hand, it could be an enjoyable power fantasy. On the other, the galaxy could be screwed and maybe Vinn Atrius had the right idea. But yes, I do see some cult of personality stuff in the Eternal Alliance.

[ainyan]

If they could have saved anyone the game didn't give them a chance to, who would it have been?

This is a SW:TOR ask, but I'm going to answer for an XIV character as well.

If Miurani'kal'istae could have saved anyone she didn't have the option to, it would have been Katha Niar, on Makeb. She and the bureaucrat didn't always see eye to eye, but Nikali respected her and her hard work, and would have saved her if it had been possible. Of all of the deaths she had no opportunity to prevent, Katha's was probably the one that struck her as the least preventable and most wasteful - and most necessary.

And the reason Katha Niar rates over Shara for Nikali is because Niar died doing her duty; she did the only thing possible to assure their success on Makeb. Shara's death was tragic - but it was her own fault believing false information. Surely a woman as brilliant and logical as she should have seen through Vinn Atrius's machinations - and her death was, ultimately, without point or merit.

In XIV, Kal'istae has seen many horrible deaths that she could not prevent, but the death she would have most prevented would have been, predictably, Haurchefant. She'll always wonder if she could have survived the spear better than he, being the Warrior of Light - and she'll always wonder if that day had she been a scholar or a white mage instead of a dragoon if she could have prevented him from dying.

He was the first to sacrifice in her name, and she'll always wonder if the lack that lead to his death was in her.

Want to know more about my SW:TOR (and XIV) OCs? Ask!

Thank you for the ask!

[raven-of-domain-kwaad]

Nowhere to run

Whumptober 2022 Cornered | Caged | Confrontation

61 ATC. Vinn Atrius and his political movement, The Order of Zildrog, has launched a coup against the Zakuulan Parliament. Bryala Kine, youngest daughter of the late Alliance Commander and part of the Zakuulan royal family (through the immortal emperor’s sith form) has been targeted by the Order.

Bryala tried to keep tears from obscuring her vision as she pressed down on her side in a futile attempt to stop the bleeding.

How had this happened? She knew that the Order of Zildrog had been gaining popular support. Reports from other Knights stationed in the Old World indicated that they were finding more and more instances of violence from the Order’s supporters. But there had been nothing to indicate that their influence had spread so far into The Spire... or the Knights.

She could feel the weight of betrayal crushing down on her heart and her tears were no longer just from physical pain. People that she had trained with, served alongside, trusted and loved were now hunting her down like an animal.

Fighting down a sob, she tried to focus on her surroundings.

She had ducked down a maintenance corridor but she could still hear the sounds of her pursuers. Voices shouted out orders as the Knights continued their search for her. Fortunately, their heavy footfalls seemed to be leading away from her position.

Letting out a breath she hadn’t known she was holding, Bryala tried to tend to her wound. The bleeding was bad, her golden armor was now a mess with her blood smeared all over the plates. It was a wonder that her former brothers and sisters in arms hadn’t been able to follow her blood trail.

Probably best to leave her armor behind. She was in no condition to fight and all the armor was doing now was just slowing her down. Getting rid of it might also help her blend in to any civilian crowds or at least not be immediately spotted as the image of a bleeding Knight wasn’t exactly ideal for going unseen.

If she could just get up to the Spire’s upper levels then she might have a chance to find more loyalists that could help her. She didn’t want to think of what Atrius might have in store for her if she was captured.

Fate however, seemed uninterested in what she wanted.

“Bryala.”

Her head snapped up and her vision went blurry at the fast movement. Nearly toppling over, she just managed to steady herself against the corridor wall.

As her vision adjusted, she found herself wishing she had just passed out. That would have been preferable to looking into the sad and regretful eyes of her Knight partner. The man that had saved her from a thousand dangers. The man that she trusted to watch her back. The same man that had betrayed her and opened up the wound in her side.

“Lee,” she tried to snarl but her voice wobbled despite her efforts.

Lee’s dark brown eyes scanned over her, taking in everything from the blood stained armor and still oozing wound to the the pale and sickly quality of her skin and wide fearful eyes. It was a pitiful sight and he winced slightly as he returned his focus to her bleeding side.

That should have made her angry, the hypocrisy. He betrays her and then feels remorseful after he sees what his actions have done. But all it did was make her sad.

Could she have somehow stopped this betrayal? What signs had she missed? And if she had seen the signs, could she have gotten through to Lee and stopped him before any of this happened?

They were irrelevant questions but they wouldn’t leave her mind. Lee had been one of her closest friends and yet he had still chosen to betray her.

“Why?”

Lee remained silent but there was a deep sadness to his eyes which refused to fully meet hers.

Frustration ignited a small spark of anger and Bryala threw a piece of bloodied armor at her partner. “Damn it, Lee! Why?!”

Glancing down at the spot where Bryala’s armor had struck his breastplate, Lee saw that it had left a smear of blood just above his aching heart. Not for the first time, he wished that his life had been different. Maybe if he had died on the streets of the Old World then this wouldn’t have happened. Atrius would not have claimed him and ordered him to betray the only friend he had ever had. He would not have hurt the one person that had believed in him and made him feel like a real person and not just a weapon.

But his life was not different. This is what he was. A weapon. A tool. Not a person deserving of love and friendship.

A tear slipped from his eye as he glanced away from Bryala’s pained gaze. Why was he so weak? Hadn’t everything Atrius had done to him removed all hesitation and doubts from his mind?

No. Apparently all the excruciating procedures, experiments and training had not left him the obedient tool that Atrius wanted him to be. It would be so much easier if he was.

Maybe in the beginning he had been closer to the ideal that Atrius had wanted but now? After being partnered with Bryala for two years he found himself wanting more out of life. He found himself wanting to have a life.

But if he were to betray Atrius for Bryala...

He shuddered at the thought of the horrors and pain that he would be put through if his adoptive father learned Lee had ever considered such a thing. He already hurt all the time thanks to the incomplete exarch enhancements he had been subjected to and he didn’t want to hurt more.

He was a coward, incapable of doing what he actually wanted because he was too afraid of the consequences if he failed.

His sad and regretful eyes met Bryala’s and they both knew what he was going to do. They also knew that he hated himself for it and likely would for the rest of his days.

Still, Bryala tried a final time to reach him. “Please, Lee... You don’t have to do this. I can protect you. Whatever Atrius has on you, my family can keep you safe.”

A choked laugh that sounded more like a sob escaped from Lee’s mouth at that. “I wish that was true, Bry. I truly wish it was. But you can’t protect me. You can’t even protect yourself. Atrius has supporters everywhere, even in Parliament. If I betrayed him...” He shuddered again as his implants throbbed. “I can’t go through that. I’m so sorry Bry but I can’t go through that again.”

Silence fell between them. It was suffocating and filled with their shared despair at their predicament. Neither wanted this but fate did not care.

“I’m so sorry, Bry.”

Bryala gave her partner a final sad and exhausted smile. “So am I, Lee. So am I.”

[sullustangin]

[i don't mean this as hate to you, and i'm sorry if it feels as such, this is not my intention]

so you're saying that people should not be able to kill characters just because you personally don't want that option and its outcomes? should we really go back to class story plot armor bullshit when BW removed the option to kill malavai and beta players bitched about this bc he was the only healer comp? i don't think so. it was blatantly stupid.

almost every kill option is justified. it'd be hella weird if a dark v sith couldn't kill a person who crossed them or a person who know something and might let others know. it's like not giving a light sided character an option *not* to kill someone even if the person was redeemable/didn't deserve it/etc etc.

class companions not being involved at all is another story, and i agree wholeheartedly that it's dumb not to include them, especially since about ¾ are unkillable atm. there are some loved ones that almost everyone would love to see. or at least not very hated ones. i'm not even asking for all comps to be involved, that'd take a long time and might cause some backlash (because honestly, i think everything about this game causes some degree of backlash)

i think the devs currently don't have good resources and that's why the latest expansion was so... underwhelming. maybe even last several expansions. story problems are also probably a result of that.

sorry for the long rant, just wanted to express some thoughts

No. That's the opposite of what I'm saying. Players can kill everyone they like. I don't care. I just don't like their decisions making it impossible for me to enjoy the characters I kept alive. That's currently the case, because the game company is catering to they who slay, not me.

At the moment, SWTOR writers assume everyone who can be killed is dead. They are, as I said in the original post "playing to the most basic, barebones, lifeless possibility in the game." And they're writing around that presumption. They literally don't have enough characters still alive to carry the story.

What I'm saying is that the writers should create content that involves potentially dead characters, i.e., Theron, the Tiralls, Koth, people from Vanilla that are a kill choice, etc. If they fit the scenario, they should be written into it. If a player has chosen previously that critical characters are dead, then maybe they don't get "the full experience" of content compared to someone who did let those characters live.

Example: Me personally, I kill Vinn Atrius on every playthrough. Let's imagine that SWTOR decides to do a whole side quest about Vinn. I don't get that quest because I killed him. Instead I either get nothing or I get a quest about the fact I killed Vinn and now I have to deal with the grieving wife/husband/child/bantha/whatever who wants an explanation from me.

Example: People who dumped/exiled Theron after Nathema but let him live get the option to hook back up with him again. They and people who continued their relationship with him get a dating sim a few extra scenes between partners that move the overall story forward. They who killed Theron get nothing because, well, he's dead.

If you have a game that advertises that 'decisions have consequences', then guess what? Decisions should have consequences, like having some content locked out to them. Think of other Bioware games where, if you make a decision, certain people leave your party permanently. You don't get the spiffy content about that character if you made them leave.

Should SWTOR try to put out content with a range of characters to improve chances that everyone gets a little content? Sure. But if someone killed everyone, then they have to live with the consequences of that empty ship/war room.

[eorzeashan]

Eight + Light Armor Pt. 2

[plotbunny-bundle]

More on the Nathema Conspiracy

The Mission to Nathema shook up Mordra. Before Nathema Conspiracy Mordra had been clinging to his power and trying to gain more. He thought his control over the galaxy was for the greater good.

By the end Mordra wants to let go of the alliance. He’s ready to stop and let other take the lead. He was faced with people who hated him for how he led the galaxy. He was called out for falling to the dark side and told he was no longer Jedi by Kira’s Master.

He ends this arc questioning himself. In the end Mordra takes Vinn Atrius alive for someone else to judge.

I actually had to put some thought into which side Mordra will join with. I’d planned on him being a saboteur trying to protect his original home. But now he may want to try again to be a Jedi. Or maybe he’ll want to give in to selfishness and rejoin the Empire so he can settle in there. I like finding character conflict. this is great.

[dorissou]

The Idiot Spy Boyfriend

Theron's a busy man.

Theron : You're the love of my life and my best friend, I would do anything for you.

Ordiss : I want you to eat three meals a day and have a decent sleep schedule.

Theron : Absolutely not.

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

Trouble Or Not Trouble ?

Theron just revealed to Lana and the Commander the truth about the Zildrog's order...

Theron *looking at Lana* : So... Huh... Am I in trouble?

Ordiss : Take a guess.

Theron : No?

Lana : Take another guess.

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

Theron, You Dumbass !

Ordiss looks really tired the days after beating up Vinn Atrius and GEMINI 16, and saving the galaxy ( again ).

Theron : Okay. I get it. You've had a really hard time lately, you're stressed out, some people died-

Ordiss : A lot of, actually.

Theron : Not the point. Look, they're dead now and really whose fault is that?

Ordiss : Yours!

Theron : That's right. No one's.

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

Nah. Just Nah.

Some days after the events of the Nathema Conspiracy...

Theron : You saved me. I owe you my life.

Ordiss : No thanks. I’ve seen it and I’m not very impressed.

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

Spelling is too complexe...

Ordiss doesn't wanna talk to Theron because he hasn't told her the truth about his betrayal, but sometimes the confontation is inevitable...

Ordiss : You're a theif and a jerk.

Theron : Thief?

Ordiss : Theif.

Theron : I before E, except after C.

Ordiss : Thceif.

Theron : ...No--

Ordiss : I DO WHAT I WANT--

Ordiss : *Snorting*

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

Tea Or Coffee ? / I Thought That Only Imperials Could Make Tea... Is Theron An Hidden Imperial ?

Some weeks later, She's still trying to ignore Theron's attempts to talk.

Theron : Hey...

Ordiss : *Doesn't look at him*

Theron : I made tea.

Ordiss : I don’t want tea.

Theron : I did not make tea for you. This is my tea.

Ordiss : Then why are you telling me?

Theron : It is a conversation starter.

Ordiss : That’s a lousy conversation starter.

Theron : Oh, is it? We are conversing. Checkmate.

Ordiss : (Ծ‸ Ծ)

[sheyshen]

so this ship continues to float and I will not let it sink anytime soon

[intergalacticskank]

I’M SORRY BUT THIS TEMPLATE IS FUCKING GOLDEN

[meatbag-status]

really? nothing? you couldn’t think of anything that would help? NOT A ONE??? NOT ONE FUCKINGTHI NG YOU FUCKIN MORON???? DID YOU DI YOU FUCKIN SREIOUSLY NOT THINK OF HOW TO HELP THE STARVING CHILDREN???? YO DONT HAVE MONEY OR FOOD????? TO GIVE????? NOTHIGN YOU COUDL DO?????