"My baby..." Virgin eyes settled on the gleaming starship. Poreon kneeled down onto the cool durasteel floor of Xa Fel's ship compound. Years had passed since Poreon had seen his ship, had touched his ship. An outbreak of emotion filled Poreon's mind. Too much time had passed since Poreon was alive. But now, Poreon was reformed, regenerated, revived. Back from the dead was Poreon.
Many lightyears and much time was stuffed inside of every possible nook and crannie inside the Sith Infiltrator, Dark Scar. Top secret Xa Fel Minidrive technology boosted the sleek ship into uncomprehendable speeds. Weapon and defense arrays protected the ship and allowed for attack at the same time.
Yet, Poreon's ultimate joy with his ship was it's paintjob. Being the command ship for the famed Phantom Squadron, Dark Scar boasted the official obsidian black ship paint with a metallic silver racing stripe running down the middle of the ship.
With a familiar hiss unheard for much time, the gangplank of the Infiltrator lowered to ground level, permitting all to enter it. In solitude, Poreon walked up the ramp into his baby, into his pride. He glanced down at his chrono. 06:15
Mission Cloaked Freedom did not begin until 8 hundred hours. Poreon was early. He needed the time to reaquaint with his ship which would be the lead ship for the mission.
He entered to a slience only broken by his steady footsteps. Nose tingling, Poreon brushed a dry hand over the inside walls of the ship. Dust shifted: the tingling in his nose grew until it felt like an erupting volcano on Korriban. With a loud noise, mucus flew out of Poreon's nose into his hand which was ready to catch the germs.
Florescent rods of thunder echoed through the aero-cracked clouds of contiguity and wove their arrogant marks of perpetual upbringing into the earthen mountainsides billowing with shrieks of pain. Punitive attributes of static and spark wrought among Vakhar's fingers, set in an ever-changing urbane fashion...twisting and taunting among the thunder gods in a game of courage and daring. The inclement of the steel-toothed clouds only rose as the impetus of power rung around his neck in a singular precedent of infinity. Raw ire and energy infused itself into Vakhar's thoughts and body as the fate of all lay clutched in his left hand, and the prophecy of the satanic gods rested in his right.
At the peak of a triumphant mountainside laced with silver thread and silk bore a castle...a citadel of unimaginable stature and prestige with the nexus of gold resonating in and out of its walls and a silent whistle of solitude funneling through its crevices and scratches. The purpose of existence came insignificant in its awe, but what lie entrapped in its gates spoke in an isolated and faltering wave attempting to reach all dimensions of life. A girl with skin of porcelain and wearing gold locks of sun-soaked color sitting calmly on a tower, singing a lost tale in the tongue inevitability and suffering with a voice raped of pride. A man of curled clouds breaching his head and a warmth-driven heart whispering words of reminisces into a wind stream circulating to a place of no ends. ...Several faces sucked of soul and locked in lairs where despair was not an emotion, but the way of life...never more signifying pain apart from anything else; forgotten. But a boy; a young child laying on a bed of glass sharls with tears of anguish sifted through his crimson-gilded eyes, unphased by the sands of time - lying alone with not a mere memory of compassion in his mind...and a man, a man grinning at the pathetic atrocity, tearing the boy at his whims for jubilance and love; shattering an eye....
...And he awoke, awoke from the muse with sweat beading his face and blood filling his...only eye.
Poreon wiped his snot covered hands on his black leather pants. Sniffling, he continued walking towards the bridge of his ship. Hallways leading towards the command room were devoid of decoration, devoid of color. Everything was a seemless abyss of pastel white.
A grey door broke the color shceme of the hallway. Poreon rested his hand repastingly over a slide pad. Memories flooded into Poreon's mind. He had placed his hands on this release countless times. Each time, glorious missions for the Order followed. All that work many years ago had squandered down to only the Order's home planet. TNSO would redeem its glory.
Smiling, Poreon released his hand and the door wooshed open. His eyes settled on the command room. It was ovular, allowing a panoramic view of space. Controls rested in the middle of the room, leaving the rest of the room the same bland white of the hallways. Poreon liked it this way. Simple. It allowed for a clear battle mind, a clear spiritual mind.
Arching his back and grunting lightly as he settled his feet over the side of the bed, Vakhar retained silence. A chill rippling among the window garments and howling through Vakhar's frostbitten ear was solemnly ignored...silence was retained.
The reddish-dim chamber holding a mere dozen waxed-drenched candles clinging to various and random flat surfaces barely sufficed when Vakhar comprised his writings; the abode was humble to say the least. In actuality, it was nearly identical to that sitting upon Ziost in where he so dreaded...though he was not enthralled by the idea of change, but simplicity. But what vexed him was not the irony that pained his eyes with every glance, but something more....
"Argh! Heretic dreams, trouble me not!"
With the emotion of remorse gleaming dimly in his eye, all else shortly was blotted-out by hatred and soon even that sliver of underlying feeling subdued also; almost giving Vakhar the impression of peace.
Haste and anger wrought in his every step whilst dark robes and cloaks were taken sternly by the hand and thrown over the back with a mushroom cloud of dust hailing in the bare enclosure; confusion clutched his soul as finely-laced boots were securely fastened and parcels gathered.
The soft melody of the young girl with golden locks plagued his mind thereafter to the point he was thrown to the relentless cold of the floor yelling and chiming his fists against the stone in deep rage.
"Every word...every sound...n-no...it can't be...."
Vakhar's breath grew heavy and heart quicker as his knees knelt down in pitiful exclamations...yet the chamber provided no mercy, nor did the glossed stars glaring at him with a frozen cold...only now did being alone seize him by the soul.
Resting familiarly on a plush mat in the center of the control room, Poreon fell into a Force Meditation. He would gather power, gather darkness, gather clarity, gather victory. Mentally, Poreon would be prepared for the tedious work that lay ahead.
Somewhere, deep inside Pyrael's sick mind, a screw was loose. Correction: Many screws were loose. Not even the greatest Shapers or the wisest sages knew exactly what was wrong within Pyrael. The best they could do was guess. General consensus agreed that the thought cortex of Pyrael had been viciously contorted during his creation by Vong Shapers. Instead of being clear, Pyrael's thought process jumped from topic to topic faster than atoms during the Big Bang.
Hunger! Sharp Pain. Need food. No no no! Need death. Wow! My face sure is ugly. Maybe I should get a perm. Wait a minute! I have no hair. Food? Coruscant has good ethnic food. No you fool! Mission! Remember? Must Destroy machines. Must honor Yun-Yuuzhan's name. What of Master Reco? Maybe he should be destroyed too. He is a machine. No no no! Shutup! Mission! Fool! What was it again? *pause* Oh right thats it! Ku. Cool! Look at that ship. Fool! Fool! Think of the mission! What was it?!? Ku... Ku... Kua... Aw I wish I had enough credits to have that ship. Wait a sec! I'll just lift i! No the mission!!! Fool!!! Screw it. Yutoh. It's mine.
And so the eternally crazy Pyrael of Darkness, disguised as the esteemed Xa Fel criminal Jet Rok, climbed up the lowered ramp of the Dark Scar, A Sith Infiltrator resting in a virgin berth. Unknown to the insane Pyrael was that Dark Scar was the ship in use for the mission to Kuat. Unknown too, was that Pyrael was supposed to be on the ship, ready for the mission, ready to conquer a land far away.
Sneaking up stealthily, Pyrael searched through the ship, attempting to find the control room.
This dude has a screw loose or two in his head.
Bored. Oh so bored. Nothing nagging at his mind, nor anyone haunting his every second, Snack was bored. Snack helped reform TNSO and left the Ziost Sith. Snack had brought the once dead Poreon back to life, relieving himself from the insanity the Lord's Spirit was bringing him. And since then, nothing exciting happened.
Adventure, Excitement, Lining: A Jedi craves not those things. Bah, Snack was a Sith Lord, bent on the twisted and evil powers of the past; driven by an undying respect for his fellow Sith of TNSO and of the Force as a whole, both Light and Dark.
At least there was a mission soon. Something to kill the unyielding boredom which poured down on Snack's sorry soul. But it truly was not sorry... more like an unfed soul. Drive, hunger... anger agression... feed the drive.
The Sith stood up from his slouch in his council chair and walked out of the Council Room. The underground catacombs of the Naboo Sith order's base were dank and smelling, dark and haunted. He took a repulsor lift to the "ground level, hopped off, and jumpped on another to transport him to the ship field. Wghen he reached, Snack saw the Infiltrator of Poreon's, along with a few other Sith.
"I hope they are not waiting for me." He said to himself in a monotone way. Keying in the access code, Snack walked through the bay doors into the hangar.
Poreon awoke suddenly from his trance. He felt as if he were being watched. The feeling haunted and disturbed him. Poreon unfolded his his indian crossed legs and rose from the cool floor. Turning, Poreon set his eyes on the doorway to the control room. He felt a presence there.
Instict proved correct.
Leaning casually on the door frame like he owned the ship, the evilest looking human, more accurately creature, watched Poreon's carefull movements. The man in the door had had a fair share of run ins with Poreon in the past. Jet Rok was a legendary criminal on Xa Fel and now it seemed that Jet Rok had decided he would once again try to lift his employer's ship.
Talking cooly "What do you want Jet?" Poreon overexaggerated his movement, making it a big show to pull out a simple SoroSuub Blaster Pistol.
Lifting himself from his knees with only his exhausted moans and sighs animating the desolate chamber; Vakhar took to his feet and stood motionless for what seemed like hours - blank of both physical and mental thought, entrenched in the epitome of solitude. The crisp whispers of the wind howled among the deep crevices within his ears; taunting his lack of focus and concentration...years of forget had just been ruined, and for a Sith Lord as himself it bore the equivalent discourage as of the heretic nostalgia itself.
An opaque yet vivid gold pendant sparkled brilliantly, like a glorious star from the heart of the heavens, as Vakhar clasped it between his right thumb and index finger as he held it to the flickering torchlight with a muffled grimace distorting with each conformity of the fire's whim. In his mind this was all that was apparent at the moment, both seen and heard, in a mellow resonance as it rested upon the chest of a teenage girl flashing jubilant smiles into what seemed to be oblivion. Moreover her eyes told of a deep burden hindering her every thought and action; one passionately concealed with a love for life...but also one that pained her all the more when it came to love and life on separate plains. But something in her hand instantly broke her joyous attention…that of a.…
The image vanished and Vakhar awoke from his muse by a shrieking rattle of branches in the tide of a large ricanse tree shrouding his abode.
"It is time...."
Pyrael's mind short circuited. He totally forgot what he was doing onboard Sith Lord Poreon's Infilitrator. He didn't even know what planet he was on.
Neon flourescent. Neon flourescent. Neon Flourescent. You fool! You fool! You dumb fool! That's a frickin lightsaber for Harla's sake. Jeedai... Jeedai blood. No! Let's steal this ship. Obedience. I must be obedient to the light.
Yet another malfunction in Pyrael's creation was a great servile attitude towards light. Concentrated outputs of light, such as lightsabers or Coruscant Spaceboards, sent Pyrael into a feeling of bondage.
He crouched to the floor, crunching his body over his bent legs. To Poreon, seeing Jet Rok subdue must have looked like the Empire being killed by Vader.
"I am forever your servant." Pyrael muttered through the lips of Jet Rok.
A black light shone over Pyrael (Jet Rok's body). Poreon's saber, constructed of a sacred Sith Gemstone, hovered over Pyrael's servitude body. Grasping through the Force, Poreon noticed that this Jet Rok was not the real Jet Rok.
"Pyrael you fool." Poreon knew of Pyrael's light disorder-- the council of elders used it as a way to control this crazy Sith Vong. Keeping his saber close, Poreon reached a hand out and stuck two fingers into Pyrael's (Jet Rok's) nose.
Hiss The ooglith masquer uncurled from Pyrael's face. Now, the contorted, true face of Pyrael was visible. Or rather, visible was Pyrael's goggles and Hannibal Like face mask.
"Lord Poreon. I am ready." And so, Pyrael remembered the mission at hand: Kuat. "Where are the rest of those crazy fools." Poreon smirked at this comment from the truely crazy fool. It's good to be naive sometimes.
The two Sith waited-- the powerful lord returning to his meditation while the Sith Knight meddled about the ship, preparing it for flight.
Vahkar... Snack... Amanda... Dace... Zeratul... Come hither...
Drifting from his pathetic brood for the last instance in the time being, Vakhar wiped a molten palm across his forehead smothered in bitter sweat saturating his scarred body head to foot.
An endless pattern of reaching and receding translucent might seeped from Azkarel's pores in unison to each heart-beat gradually wiping his bare face of life. A cynical essence of honor yet deceit melded its distorted life into this dimming concoction simply drowning duplicity and relentlessness all so everlasting.
The frequent clutter of merciless sorcery manifesting solely in the humble though of symbolist esteem rippled through the eroded arch and into the face of dawn. Behind it rested a gold amulet mutilated and defaced to pieces upon the frozen granite....
***
The piercing wind of morning took no mercy even on the one bounded by layers of tight stitching; the unpleasant reminder broke like ice daggers into his warm flesh with a hiss of malice.
"So fierce yet so fragile...."
What was once a mere glimmer in the peripheral sight of an eye now bulged to the length of a titan and to the width of several figures. As once the most meager ray of light was yearned and betrothed, now it only rooted pain as it dispersed on the waxed finish and flared in the eyes...both artificial and flesh.
"A paradox...how ironic at such a moment it is."
Strung among four corners was an undecipherable figure glooming when Azkarel's own hindered appearance transpired from the deep hanging fog. Tasting not of intuition or even of psychological might, Azkarel addressed the man as was.
"Patience...a priceless commodity, is it not?"
"Just get in the ship." Pyrael snapped: Poreon had accidently moved his lightsaber away.
Moving back closer to Pyrael, Poreon too was growing impatient. Hurry
So they were waiting for him. Well, him and a few others.
Snack made his way across the docking bay filled with Starships and whatnot. His boots clicked along the metallic surface of the floor.
The DarkScar stood infront of him. The Sith Infiltrator would be the "main operating" ship for this strike. Calling out, Snack spoke with a smile, "I hope I did not keep this party waiting..?"
Smirking, the Sith Lord walked up the ramp and into the ship.
Amanda had heard the call, she was being summoned. Was it time? Time to go? Was the mission at hand now? She reached out with the dark side of the force, seeking her Master's own presence, and she had found it. Yes, it was time for the mission and she was to go. The ship, she needed to go there. She held onto her Master's presence to help her find her way to the ship. She knew she relyed on her Master far too much, but she was still young and had much to learn, she would grow out of this soon enough. Moments later she found herself in plain view of the ship. All there was left to walk were but a few feet. What was she to do when she got there? She had only been on one mission before and that was the Ziost mission, she had not gone on the ship with the others, her place at that time was on Naboo, keeping watch. Now she was expected to come aboard the ship and participate in the mission at hand. Could she do it? She did not know, but that was not what was most important, she would be loyal and do what was told of her. She would do what was needed. Slowly she found herself walking up the ramp and into the ship, mesmerized by the build of the ship. She found that she was late, and that all were waiting for her. She would not make the same mistake ever again.
Releasing a small smirk in the direction of Poreon's recent departure of free malice, soon a rolling laughter riveted the confines of the starship even as Azkarel continued to stand to the exterior of the craft. His head remained lurched in distinction to the ground throughout the character scrutiny, or mock, of Poreon, and only as his laughter grew without movement was annoyance all the more apparent.
Sustaining the laughter glossed in a benevolent aura, Vakhar heaved forward to the point of contact in his frilled boot against the durasteel plating. With a swift yet meticulous chime of observation targeting each passenger, both Azkarel's smile and laughter faded into oblivion as his eyes had not managed to transfix on any one figure.
Reaching into his sarcastic speech, Azkarel began to crave that the assembly formed before him would light into a fireball only to soothe his belligerent and pessimistic pocket requiring satisfaction.
Hinting to the extreme confidence the man beheld, Vakhar's hand rose from his cloak before the following, relatively belated, speech sucked at his wispy cheeks, "Quite an ordained formation, hm?"
Grinning darkly at his own slur, Azkarel trudged to a modest seat directed towards the stern of the craft and sat silently.
Enough was enough. Impatience fully overcame Poreon. Patton: Naught. Zeratul: Naught. A good group of Sith had assembled though. Snack: Smooth, cool. Amanda: Can't be bad, must hold some of Snack's composure. Pyrael: terminally insane. Azkarel: Annoying and Crazy. Poreon: Impatient, wanting action after years of rest.
"Let's go." Poreon broke a silence of brooding amongst the Sith. Location: Kuat. Target: Royal Family. It would be a simple task, especially with the powerful Darkside of the Force as an ally.
With a lurch in power, the Sith Infiltrator leapt up into the sky, ignoring pre-flight checks and ignoring Xa Fel space lanes. It entered Hyperspace, set for Kuat.
"Snack," Poreon said, "turn the cloaker on before we exit hyperspace." Of all the Sith onboard the Dark Scar, Snack was the only Sith Poreon trusted enough to even touch the control pannels of this precious ship.
The cloaker, once out of hyperspace, would create a mutual devoid of light, blinding the Sith from seeing the outside and blinding Kuat sensors from seeing inside. For most, flying a ship wihtout sensor readings would be near impossible, but with the aide of the Force, it would be easier than flying with sensors.
"Is it on?" Poreon noticed a yellow light flicker on the control pannel. Green- Good. Red-Bad. Yellow... well, that was just ok.
Upon entring the ship, Snack made his way to the Co-Pilot's seat. It was Poreon's ship, but who would have been the Co-pilot? Pyrael? He would have been the most likely candidate, but he was... too unstable.
His apprentice, Amanda Young soon entered the ship, as did Azkarel. Was this it? Only this group of five Sith? Not that anything was wrong with that, since these five posed a formidable threat to anyone in the galaxy. Three Lords, one Knight, and one Disciple.
Poreon ordered the jump to hyperspace almost imediately, jerking the ship up and out into the vastness of space. The coordinates were already pre-programmed into the Dark Scar's NAV -Computer. The impatient Lord threw his ship into hyperspace, and there they were.
******
"Snack, turn the cloaker on before we exit hyperspace."
Looking at Poreon with a smug smile, Snack reached forward and with his index finger, he flipped the switch to it's on position. A simple task really.
"Is it on?" asked Poreon. Snack lifted his head to view the same exact light that Poreon found himself looking at. It shown a dull yellow, then shut off for a second and reappeared as a bright green.
"Ding..." Snack softly rang out in a slight singing vioce. Moving his head slightly, he looked at Poreon again with a smug smile. "Hope you are ready and one with the Darkness to shed light on where we are heading for."
Ever so crazy, Pyrael watched the realspace reversion through a viewport. Only he did not see the reversion. Instead, he watched an opaque black abyss that was unchanging. Yet he did not falter in viewing. He found it interesting. Every so often, there would be a crack in the blackness and seeps of Kuati spaceports would slip through. These interested Pyrael.
Time for some fun, Time for some fun!
Pyrael, ever so crazily, projected an image of a mammoth Eclipse Class Star Destroyer. It did not appear on mechanical scanners, only in plain viewsite. Then, suddenly, the command ship changed into the mouth of a Yuuzhan Vong World Eater.
Then suddenly, Pyrael grew tired of this charade. He immediately stopped and decided to take a short stroll up to the Cabin of Dark Scar where Poreon and Snack were intensely flying blindly through Kuat airspace.
Being the fool that he is, Pyrael tripped as soon as he intered the cabin-- which he wasn't supposed to be in anyways. Hands flailing, he knocked a switch, the power switch to the whole Sith Infiltrator.
Amanda sat quietly aboard the ship, there wasn't much she really could do aboard the ship anyway. She lacked ship and air combat knowledge, yet still that was no reason for her not to be aboard the ship now. Though her presences was not needed now, perhaps later on it would be. She did most of her learning from observing, maybe by the end of this trip she would come home with some ship experience, well, at least she hoped to anyway. Though she felt slightly out of place, being the only Disciple aboard the ship, she was still powerful, though not as powerful as her elders, nor of those of higher rank than her. Nonetheless, the dark side of the force ran strong through her, and although she was still learning to get a firm grasp upon the dark side of the force, she was still a force to be reckoned with. She would learn, and learn well.
Oh that frelling fool! Poreon flipped. Years of anger finally poured out of him, all over that pathetic excuse for a being, Pyrael. Poreon lunged out of his chair, abandoning his attempt to fly the ship-- before Pyrael screwed everything.
Hopefully, one of the more sane Sith onboard the ship would work to reactivating power and flying this away from any attack. And maybe they would call in the capital ship reinforcements now that the covert phase of this mission was blown.
Poreon lunged, like was stated. In one fell swoop, Poreon tackled the crazy Knight taking them both to slick ground. They fell through the open cockpit door and out into the main hold of the spaceship, visible to all the Sith in the ship.
Giving Pyrael no chance of defense, Poreon backhanded Pyrael across the face and then continued by following up with a series of hook-punches.
Oh that fool. I'm going to blow his mind. Literally.
From this extreme close distant, a Force attack would be devastating, if not mortal. It would be found out shortly just how strong this mongrel Pyrael really was.
It surprised Snack when he realized the amount of concentration needed to fly blindly through space, depending on solely the Force, and not one's eyes. What surprised him more was the fact he could see perfectly out into the open space, stars, the planet of Kuat, their defenses with his eyes as well.
Wait a second... The controls were not responding, and he could see out into space with his own eyes. He darted his eyes to his left where he saw a fallen Pyrael trying to lift himself up from the dashboard thingy of the Dark Scar. On the other side, was an infurious Poreon.
"He's gonna snap," Snack uttered as he lifted his gaze from the two and back to the control consoles infront of him. Power had been shut down. They were sitting ducks out in open space, ready to be picked off like a piece of space garbage. Quickly, Snack moved his body forwards, giving a quick scan of the concole. He would have to bring power back on line, for Poreon would be going balistik soon.
.....
The shout of Poreon flying at Pyrael and the scream from Pyrael as Poreon tackled him confimred Snack's thoughts.
"Silly silly silly," He said to himself, now that the two crazed Sith had fallen into the main hold of the ship. Snack shook his head and tried to regain power to the ship. It would not be too long before they were taken out.
Pyrael took the force blow straight on. He payed dearly for the silly thought that he could withstand a blow from a Lord. A dark bolt of pure hatred zoomed out of Poreon's left hand. At a distance of thirty-five centimeters, the bolt inflicted damage to both Pyrael and the Sith Infiltrator's cosmetics.
Pyrael's chest ripped apart as the bolt hit-- sending burnt flesh splattering into the control cabin and passenger hold. A gaping hole went straight through Pyrael's chest. No organs appeared to be hit, thanks to a Yuuzhan Vong arrangement modification. Yet still, Pyrael was hurt. He fell to the floor, spent of all energy. His chest was cauterized, no blood oozed out.
The damage was not repairable. Yet Pyrael, being his foolish self, would still live on and be able to function during the Cloaked Freedom Mission.
By sheer coincidence, the splattering of Pyrael's skin and a few bones knocked the power of the infiltrator back on. The ship lurched foward, sending Poreon head first into Pyrael's stomach, causing the unconcious Pyrael to puke all over Poreon.
Yet the ship was alive and safe for the time.
Vakhar's dreary eyelids, once encroached in meditation, gradually separated as the ruckus commencing before his knarred complexion only began to thwart his patience. Severed shrapnel of flesh dominated the blank area, both on the cloaks of miscellaneous Sith loyalists and upon the glossed hull interior.
Despite the majority dispersing of flesh upon the numerous disciples sitting amidst the primary cabin, a single fragment had managed to land upon Azkarel's chest proximity of fabric.
Subtly, his eyes shifted to view the gruesome piece of tissue seeming to pulsate upon him, and slowly his vision rolled towards Pyrael and his irritable master. Initially perceiving the circumstance in a dissimulated muse of surrealism, acknowledgement developed as ire quickly shortened Azkarel's fuse of temper. Enmity forced control of his sanity, and the persona commonly pronounced for its relentless nature was welcomed by Vakhar's conscious.
"Fools...perhaps those whom plow the path of imprudence incidentally cross onto that of ignorance?"
Persisting his dormant hand to animate itself and raise slightly to a noticeable parameter, Azkarel plunged into the eyes of both perpetrators. Grinning in a melancholy tone, kinetic energy flushed as liquid among his various chaliced fingers as if in preparation to exploit a trapesphy. Granted, Vakhar only jubilantly transferred the eerie texture within his curled fingers in a melodramatically humored fashion.
"Do you intend this idiocy to proceed further in cocky arrogance...for possibly it resembles the yearn for the identification of challenge, as if young boys envelope your pathetic consciousnesses."
Amanda watched the small battle with great interest and curiousity, a slight small falling upon her lips.
I will have such power one day.
Though she did think it odd that the two Sith were fighting now, especially on such a critical mission as this. She dared not say anything though, she knew better not to talk out of turn. It was better for her to observe and keep her thoughts to herself. She was always taught to speak when spoken to anywaym and such a teaching was no different now. She continued to watch, waiting to see what would happen next.
The eyes, the stares, and the emotions beated down into the Pyrael-puke encrusted Sith Lord Poreon. He suddenly felt embarrassed.
Elevating personal discontempt just for self glory... How could I have let down my comrades... And look what I did to Pyrael... No, no. I shalln't be embarrassed. I am a Sith. A Sith Lord. Thoughts of others do not matter to me. Rather, I shall be a Sith, and hate all that lives until I am supreme ruler. Yet still, to get to the top I should work together with my comrades.
Poreon stood, wiping vomit off of his clothes. He calmly walked back into the control cabin-- not meeting eyes with the other Sith.
"Status?" his voice sounded lost in thought...
"Running smoothly again." Snack replied.
"Good. Call the Strikes in. By the time we finish our silent assassinations, they should be arriving to clean up any rebellious forces." Poreon continued. It was time to restore The Naboo Sith Order's glory.
The Sith Infiltrator crept into a Royal Kuati ship berth invisibly. Without a sound or sight, the ship-- flown masterfully by Poreon and his copilot Snack, settled down onto the floor of the Kuat Private Spaceport.
As if by magic, Pyrael regained conciousness during the slight bumps of docking and was able to partake in the mission. Sitting with his back against a wall, facing the control cabin, Pyrael watched the closed door with his head titled in a curious, dog-like manner.
With a hiss, the door slid open, revealing the body frame of Poreon. Pyrael, still feeling groggy, thought he saw Poreon smile at Pyrael, but really Poreon scowled at Pyrael.
Groggy still, Pyrael thought he heard this from Poreon: "Pyrael, I apologize for brutally attacking you and because of this mislaid anger, I'd like to take this time to promote you to Supreme Sith Conqueror of the Galaxy, the highest possible Sith rank imaginable."
But, like was stated, Pyrael was somewhat hallucinating. For real, Poreon said this: "Sith, even you pathetic Pyrael, we have reached the Kuat Royal Family's space residence without being found-- no thanks to Pyrael. They do not expect us. We must move silently and execute forcefully. We have twenty minutes to reach the royal rulers and assassinate them before the Strike Cruisers arrive for a full military takeover."
And so, the Sith, with Poreon at the lead, walked down the invisible boarding ramp of the ship into the main threshold of Royal Kuat. Pyrael trailed at the back of the procession. He saw no hostile looking guards in the room. For the first time, Pyrael was actually correct. There were no hostiles in the room.
Amanda shook her head, displeased with how Pyrael was acting, but it wasn't as if she could really say anything to him, after all, she hadn't the authority to. Poreon had tried to put him in his place, though it appeared now that doing such hadn't made much of a difference, Ptrael was still acting the same.
He is a danger to the entire group, Amanda thought silently, though doing her best to make sure that no one else read her thoughts. Though blocking her thoughts from all on the ship was rather impossible, seeing as how they all had more power than she, it never hurt her to try and be careful anyhow.
By now, Amanda's patience was getting to her, and she was growing more impatient by the minute. For a while they had been stuck aboard this ship with nothing to do but watch a fight amongest comrades, though Pyrael himself was nothing short of entertaining, he still did not cure Amanda's boredom.
With a small sigh, Amanda stood up and headed for the cockpit of the ship, not much caring to look after Pyrael and all his silly stunts and antics. She was more concerned for herself now and what she wanted. She wanted action, and well there seemed to be very little og that, at least where Amanda was concerned. She was tired of sitting around, and she would sit around no more.
There definitely was a feeling of anxiety in the group. Poreon was especially teeming with anxiety for he did not want to be late for the military bombardments.
Currently the Sith were arranged in a single file line. Poreon was in the front, Amanda behind him, then Azkarel, then Snack, and lastly Pyrael brought up the rear. Poreon slowed his step, letting Amanda fall into the leadership spot of the line. Poreon furthered slowed his step, fallinging into pace next to his fellow Sith Lord, Azkarel.
Though Poreon was in a hurry to execute the Kuat Royal Family, he thought it would be a nice little training excersise to put Amanda in command for a little while. Maybe a challenge like leading a group of Sith through the Kuat Royal Palace would alievate some of Amanda's boredom that was so easily read by a trained Sith Lord.
After visiting the cockpit for a short time, Amanda found herself marching straight for the boarding ramp, following in a line with the rest of her comrades. No sooner did she find herself at the head of the line. Though this sudden change did startle her a bit, Amanda kept her composure. After all, she was being watched and there was no room for error, she could not afford it. She looked forward, marching on, she knew what had to be done. She knew only one thing for sure as she slowly led the group into the Kuat Royal Palace, her feeling of boredom had now ceased to exist.
As the group approached the front entrance of the palace, two royal guards stood on each side of the entrance, unmoving, their faces expressionless. Amanda proded each of their monds, noting that they were weak minded. She smiled sinisterly at this new found discovery. She reached out with the dark side of the force, manipulating their minds and then she spoke.
"You will let us pass..."
The royal guards remaied unmoving as Amanda and her comrades marched on. Once she took the first step into the palace, she smiled evilly as she still held onto each guards mind, only long enough to let each comrade pass safely through the entrance doors of the palace. Once all were inside, the doors instinctively shut and locked behind them, leaving the guards just as they were before the group had entered.
Amanda's eyes seemed to glance back and forth in front of her. Just now noting the size of the palace. She did not have long to glance around as twenty or more guards approached the group at a fast pace.
"And so..the fun begins..."
Many lightyears and much time was stuffed inside of every possible nook and crannie inside the Sith Infiltrator, Dark Scar. Top secret Xa Fel Minidrive technology boosted the sleek ship into uncomprehendable speeds. Weapon and defense arrays protected the ship and allowed for attack at the same time.
Yet, Poreon's ultimate joy with his ship was it's paintjob. Being the command ship for the famed Phantom Squadron, Dark Scar boasted the official obsidian black ship paint with a metallic silver racing stripe running down the middle of the ship.
With a familiar hiss unheard for much time, the gangplank of the Infiltrator lowered to ground level, permitting all to enter it. In solitude, Poreon walked up the ramp into his baby, into his pride. He glanced down at his chrono. 06:15
Mission Cloaked Freedom did not begin until 8 hundred hours. Poreon was early. He needed the time to reaquaint with his ship which would be the lead ship for the mission.
He entered to a slience only broken by his steady footsteps. Nose tingling, Poreon brushed a dry hand over the inside walls of the ship. Dust shifted: the tingling in his nose grew until it felt like an erupting volcano on Korriban. With a loud noise, mucus flew out of Poreon's nose into his hand which was ready to catch the germs.
Florescent rods of thunder echoed through the aero-cracked clouds of contiguity and wove their arrogant marks of perpetual upbringing into the earthen mountainsides billowing with shrieks of pain. Punitive attributes of static and spark wrought among Vakhar's fingers, set in an ever-changing urbane fashion...twisting and taunting among the thunder gods in a game of courage and daring. The inclement of the steel-toothed clouds only rose as the impetus of power rung around his neck in a singular precedent of infinity. Raw ire and energy infused itself into Vakhar's thoughts and body as the fate of all lay clutched in his left hand, and the prophecy of the satanic gods rested in his right.
At the peak of a triumphant mountainside laced with silver thread and silk bore a castle...a citadel of unimaginable stature and prestige with the nexus of gold resonating in and out of its walls and a silent whistle of solitude funneling through its crevices and scratches. The purpose of existence came insignificant in its awe, but what lie entrapped in its gates spoke in an isolated and faltering wave attempting to reach all dimensions of life. A girl with skin of porcelain and wearing gold locks of sun-soaked color sitting calmly on a tower, singing a lost tale in the tongue inevitability and suffering with a voice raped of pride. A man of curled clouds breaching his head and a warmth-driven heart whispering words of reminisces into a wind stream circulating to a place of no ends. ...Several faces sucked of soul and locked in lairs where despair was not an emotion, but the way of life...never more signifying pain apart from anything else; forgotten. But a boy; a young child laying on a bed of glass sharls with tears of anguish sifted through his crimson-gilded eyes, unphased by the sands of time - lying alone with not a mere memory of compassion in his mind...and a man, a man grinning at the pathetic atrocity, tearing the boy at his whims for jubilance and love; shattering an eye....
...And he awoke, awoke from the muse with sweat beading his face and blood filling his...only eye.
Poreon wiped his snot covered hands on his black leather pants. Sniffling, he continued walking towards the bridge of his ship. Hallways leading towards the command room were devoid of decoration, devoid of color. Everything was a seemless abyss of pastel white.
A grey door broke the color shceme of the hallway. Poreon rested his hand repastingly over a slide pad. Memories flooded into Poreon's mind. He had placed his hands on this release countless times. Each time, glorious missions for the Order followed. All that work many years ago had squandered down to only the Order's home planet. TNSO would redeem its glory.
Smiling, Poreon released his hand and the door wooshed open. His eyes settled on the command room. It was ovular, allowing a panoramic view of space. Controls rested in the middle of the room, leaving the rest of the room the same bland white of the hallways. Poreon liked it this way. Simple. It allowed for a clear battle mind, a clear spiritual mind.
Arching his back and grunting lightly as he settled his feet over the side of the bed, Vakhar retained silence. A chill rippling among the window garments and howling through Vakhar's frostbitten ear was solemnly ignored...silence was retained.
The reddish-dim chamber holding a mere dozen waxed-drenched candles clinging to various and random flat surfaces barely sufficed when Vakhar comprised his writings; the abode was humble to say the least. In actuality, it was nearly identical to that sitting upon Ziost in where he so dreaded...though he was not enthralled by the idea of change, but simplicity. But what vexed him was not the irony that pained his eyes with every glance, but something more....
"Argh! Heretic dreams, trouble me not!"
With the emotion of remorse gleaming dimly in his eye, all else shortly was blotted-out by hatred and soon even that sliver of underlying feeling subdued also; almost giving Vakhar the impression of peace.
Haste and anger wrought in his every step whilst dark robes and cloaks were taken sternly by the hand and thrown over the back with a mushroom cloud of dust hailing in the bare enclosure; confusion clutched his soul as finely-laced boots were securely fastened and parcels gathered.
The soft melody of the young girl with golden locks plagued his mind thereafter to the point he was thrown to the relentless cold of the floor yelling and chiming his fists against the stone in deep rage.
"Every word...every sound...n-no...it can't be...."
Vakhar's breath grew heavy and heart quicker as his knees knelt down in pitiful exclamations...yet the chamber provided no mercy, nor did the glossed stars glaring at him with a frozen cold...only now did being alone seize him by the soul.
Resting familiarly on a plush mat in the center of the control room, Poreon fell into a Force Meditation. He would gather power, gather darkness, gather clarity, gather victory. Mentally, Poreon would be prepared for the tedious work that lay ahead.
Somewhere, deep inside Pyrael's sick mind, a screw was loose. Correction: Many screws were loose. Not even the greatest Shapers or the wisest sages knew exactly what was wrong within Pyrael. The best they could do was guess. General consensus agreed that the thought cortex of Pyrael had been viciously contorted during his creation by Vong Shapers. Instead of being clear, Pyrael's thought process jumped from topic to topic faster than atoms during the Big Bang.
Hunger! Sharp Pain. Need food. No no no! Need death. Wow! My face sure is ugly. Maybe I should get a perm. Wait a minute! I have no hair. Food? Coruscant has good ethnic food. No you fool! Mission! Remember? Must Destroy machines. Must honor Yun-Yuuzhan's name. What of Master Reco? Maybe he should be destroyed too. He is a machine. No no no! Shutup! Mission! Fool! What was it again? *pause* Oh right thats it! Ku. Cool! Look at that ship. Fool! Fool! Think of the mission! What was it?!? Ku... Ku... Kua... Aw I wish I had enough credits to have that ship. Wait a sec! I'll just lift i! No the mission!!! Fool!!! Screw it. Yutoh. It's mine.
And so the eternally crazy Pyrael of Darkness, disguised as the esteemed Xa Fel criminal Jet Rok, climbed up the lowered ramp of the Dark Scar, A Sith Infiltrator resting in a virgin berth. Unknown to the insane Pyrael was that Dark Scar was the ship in use for the mission to Kuat. Unknown too, was that Pyrael was supposed to be on the ship, ready for the mission, ready to conquer a land far away.
Sneaking up stealthily, Pyrael searched through the ship, attempting to find the control room.
This dude has a screw loose or two in his head.
Bored. Oh so bored. Nothing nagging at his mind, nor anyone haunting his every second, Snack was bored. Snack helped reform TNSO and left the Ziost Sith. Snack had brought the once dead Poreon back to life, relieving himself from the insanity the Lord's Spirit was bringing him. And since then, nothing exciting happened.
Adventure, Excitement, Lining: A Jedi craves not those things. Bah, Snack was a Sith Lord, bent on the twisted and evil powers of the past; driven by an undying respect for his fellow Sith of TNSO and of the Force as a whole, both Light and Dark.
At least there was a mission soon. Something to kill the unyielding boredom which poured down on Snack's sorry soul. But it truly was not sorry... more like an unfed soul. Drive, hunger... anger agression... feed the drive.
The Sith stood up from his slouch in his council chair and walked out of the Council Room. The underground catacombs of the Naboo Sith order's base were dank and smelling, dark and haunted. He took a repulsor lift to the "ground level, hopped off, and jumpped on another to transport him to the ship field. Wghen he reached, Snack saw the Infiltrator of Poreon's, along with a few other Sith.
"I hope they are not waiting for me." He said to himself in a monotone way. Keying in the access code, Snack walked through the bay doors into the hangar.
Poreon awoke suddenly from his trance. He felt as if he were being watched. The feeling haunted and disturbed him. Poreon unfolded his his indian crossed legs and rose from the cool floor. Turning, Poreon set his eyes on the doorway to the control room. He felt a presence there.
Instict proved correct.
Leaning casually on the door frame like he owned the ship, the evilest looking human, more accurately creature, watched Poreon's carefull movements. The man in the door had had a fair share of run ins with Poreon in the past. Jet Rok was a legendary criminal on Xa Fel and now it seemed that Jet Rok had decided he would once again try to lift his employer's ship.
Talking cooly "What do you want Jet?" Poreon overexaggerated his movement, making it a big show to pull out a simple SoroSuub Blaster Pistol.
Lifting himself from his knees with only his exhausted moans and sighs animating the desolate chamber; Vakhar took to his feet and stood motionless for what seemed like hours - blank of both physical and mental thought, entrenched in the epitome of solitude. The crisp whispers of the wind howled among the deep crevices within his ears; taunting his lack of focus and concentration...years of forget had just been ruined, and for a Sith Lord as himself it bore the equivalent discourage as of the heretic nostalgia itself.
An opaque yet vivid gold pendant sparkled brilliantly, like a glorious star from the heart of the heavens, as Vakhar clasped it between his right thumb and index finger as he held it to the flickering torchlight with a muffled grimace distorting with each conformity of the fire's whim. In his mind this was all that was apparent at the moment, both seen and heard, in a mellow resonance as it rested upon the chest of a teenage girl flashing jubilant smiles into what seemed to be oblivion. Moreover her eyes told of a deep burden hindering her every thought and action; one passionately concealed with a love for life...but also one that pained her all the more when it came to love and life on separate plains. But something in her hand instantly broke her joyous attention…that of a.…
The image vanished and Vakhar awoke from his muse by a shrieking rattle of branches in the tide of a large ricanse tree shrouding his abode.
"It is time...."
Pyrael's mind short circuited. He totally forgot what he was doing onboard Sith Lord Poreon's Infilitrator. He didn't even know what planet he was on.
Neon flourescent. Neon flourescent. Neon Flourescent. You fool! You fool! You dumb fool! That's a frickin lightsaber for Harla's sake. Jeedai... Jeedai blood. No! Let's steal this ship. Obedience. I must be obedient to the light.
Yet another malfunction in Pyrael's creation was a great servile attitude towards light. Concentrated outputs of light, such as lightsabers or Coruscant Spaceboards, sent Pyrael into a feeling of bondage.
He crouched to the floor, crunching his body over his bent legs. To Poreon, seeing Jet Rok subdue must have looked like the Empire being killed by Vader.
"I am forever your servant." Pyrael muttered through the lips of Jet Rok.
A black light shone over Pyrael (Jet Rok's body). Poreon's saber, constructed of a sacred Sith Gemstone, hovered over Pyrael's servitude body. Grasping through the Force, Poreon noticed that this Jet Rok was not the real Jet Rok.
"Pyrael you fool." Poreon knew of Pyrael's light disorder-- the council of elders used it as a way to control this crazy Sith Vong. Keeping his saber close, Poreon reached a hand out and stuck two fingers into Pyrael's (Jet Rok's) nose.
Hiss The ooglith masquer uncurled from Pyrael's face. Now, the contorted, true face of Pyrael was visible. Or rather, visible was Pyrael's goggles and Hannibal Like face mask.
"Lord Poreon. I am ready." And so, Pyrael remembered the mission at hand: Kuat. "Where are the rest of those crazy fools." Poreon smirked at this comment from the truely crazy fool. It's good to be naive sometimes.
The two Sith waited-- the powerful lord returning to his meditation while the Sith Knight meddled about the ship, preparing it for flight.
Vahkar... Snack... Amanda... Dace... Zeratul... Come hither...
Drifting from his pathetic brood for the last instance in the time being, Vakhar wiped a molten palm across his forehead smothered in bitter sweat saturating his scarred body head to foot.
An endless pattern of reaching and receding translucent might seeped from Azkarel's pores in unison to each heart-beat gradually wiping his bare face of life. A cynical essence of honor yet deceit melded its distorted life into this dimming concoction simply drowning duplicity and relentlessness all so everlasting.
The frequent clutter of merciless sorcery manifesting solely in the humble though of symbolist esteem rippled through the eroded arch and into the face of dawn. Behind it rested a gold amulet mutilated and defaced to pieces upon the frozen granite....
***
The piercing wind of morning took no mercy even on the one bounded by layers of tight stitching; the unpleasant reminder broke like ice daggers into his warm flesh with a hiss of malice.
"So fierce yet so fragile...."
What was once a mere glimmer in the peripheral sight of an eye now bulged to the length of a titan and to the width of several figures. As once the most meager ray of light was yearned and betrothed, now it only rooted pain as it dispersed on the waxed finish and flared in the eyes...both artificial and flesh.
"A paradox...how ironic at such a moment it is."
Strung among four corners was an undecipherable figure glooming when Azkarel's own hindered appearance transpired from the deep hanging fog. Tasting not of intuition or even of psychological might, Azkarel addressed the man as was.
"Patience...a priceless commodity, is it not?"
"Just get in the ship." Pyrael snapped: Poreon had accidently moved his lightsaber away.
Moving back closer to Pyrael, Poreon too was growing impatient. Hurry
So they were waiting for him. Well, him and a few others.
Snack made his way across the docking bay filled with Starships and whatnot. His boots clicked along the metallic surface of the floor.
The DarkScar stood infront of him. The Sith Infiltrator would be the "main operating" ship for this strike. Calling out, Snack spoke with a smile, "I hope I did not keep this party waiting..?"
Smirking, the Sith Lord walked up the ramp and into the ship.
Amanda had heard the call, she was being summoned. Was it time? Time to go? Was the mission at hand now? She reached out with the dark side of the force, seeking her Master's own presence, and she had found it. Yes, it was time for the mission and she was to go. The ship, she needed to go there. She held onto her Master's presence to help her find her way to the ship. She knew she relyed on her Master far too much, but she was still young and had much to learn, she would grow out of this soon enough. Moments later she found herself in plain view of the ship. All there was left to walk were but a few feet. What was she to do when she got there? She had only been on one mission before and that was the Ziost mission, she had not gone on the ship with the others, her place at that time was on Naboo, keeping watch. Now she was expected to come aboard the ship and participate in the mission at hand. Could she do it? She did not know, but that was not what was most important, she would be loyal and do what was told of her. She would do what was needed. Slowly she found herself walking up the ramp and into the ship, mesmerized by the build of the ship. She found that she was late, and that all were waiting for her. She would not make the same mistake ever again.
Releasing a small smirk in the direction of Poreon's recent departure of free malice, soon a rolling laughter riveted the confines of the starship even as Azkarel continued to stand to the exterior of the craft. His head remained lurched in distinction to the ground throughout the character scrutiny, or mock, of Poreon, and only as his laughter grew without movement was annoyance all the more apparent.
Sustaining the laughter glossed in a benevolent aura, Vakhar heaved forward to the point of contact in his frilled boot against the durasteel plating. With a swift yet meticulous chime of observation targeting each passenger, both Azkarel's smile and laughter faded into oblivion as his eyes had not managed to transfix on any one figure.
Reaching into his sarcastic speech, Azkarel began to crave that the assembly formed before him would light into a fireball only to soothe his belligerent and pessimistic pocket requiring satisfaction.
Hinting to the extreme confidence the man beheld, Vakhar's hand rose from his cloak before the following, relatively belated, speech sucked at his wispy cheeks, "Quite an ordained formation, hm?"
Grinning darkly at his own slur, Azkarel trudged to a modest seat directed towards the stern of the craft and sat silently.
Enough was enough. Impatience fully overcame Poreon. Patton: Naught. Zeratul: Naught. A good group of Sith had assembled though. Snack: Smooth, cool. Amanda: Can't be bad, must hold some of Snack's composure. Pyrael: terminally insane. Azkarel: Annoying and Crazy. Poreon: Impatient, wanting action after years of rest.
"Let's go." Poreon broke a silence of brooding amongst the Sith. Location: Kuat. Target: Royal Family. It would be a simple task, especially with the powerful Darkside of the Force as an ally.
With a lurch in power, the Sith Infiltrator leapt up into the sky, ignoring pre-flight checks and ignoring Xa Fel space lanes. It entered Hyperspace, set for Kuat.
"Snack," Poreon said, "turn the cloaker on before we exit hyperspace." Of all the Sith onboard the Dark Scar, Snack was the only Sith Poreon trusted enough to even touch the control pannels of this precious ship.
The cloaker, once out of hyperspace, would create a mutual devoid of light, blinding the Sith from seeing the outside and blinding Kuat sensors from seeing inside. For most, flying a ship wihtout sensor readings would be near impossible, but with the aide of the Force, it would be easier than flying with sensors.
"Is it on?" Poreon noticed a yellow light flicker on the control pannel. Green- Good. Red-Bad. Yellow... well, that was just ok.
Upon entring the ship, Snack made his way to the Co-Pilot's seat. It was Poreon's ship, but who would have been the Co-pilot? Pyrael? He would have been the most likely candidate, but he was... too unstable.
His apprentice, Amanda Young soon entered the ship, as did Azkarel. Was this it? Only this group of five Sith? Not that anything was wrong with that, since these five posed a formidable threat to anyone in the galaxy. Three Lords, one Knight, and one Disciple.
Poreon ordered the jump to hyperspace almost imediately, jerking the ship up and out into the vastness of space. The coordinates were already pre-programmed into the Dark Scar's NAV -Computer. The impatient Lord threw his ship into hyperspace, and there they were.
******
"Snack, turn the cloaker on before we exit hyperspace."
Looking at Poreon with a smug smile, Snack reached forward and with his index finger, he flipped the switch to it's on position. A simple task really.
"Is it on?" asked Poreon. Snack lifted his head to view the same exact light that Poreon found himself looking at. It shown a dull yellow, then shut off for a second and reappeared as a bright green.
"Ding..." Snack softly rang out in a slight singing vioce. Moving his head slightly, he looked at Poreon again with a smug smile. "Hope you are ready and one with the Darkness to shed light on where we are heading for."
Ever so crazy, Pyrael watched the realspace reversion through a viewport. Only he did not see the reversion. Instead, he watched an opaque black abyss that was unchanging. Yet he did not falter in viewing. He found it interesting. Every so often, there would be a crack in the blackness and seeps of Kuati spaceports would slip through. These interested Pyrael.
Time for some fun, Time for some fun!
Pyrael, ever so crazily, projected an image of a mammoth Eclipse Class Star Destroyer. It did not appear on mechanical scanners, only in plain viewsite. Then, suddenly, the command ship changed into the mouth of a Yuuzhan Vong World Eater.
Then suddenly, Pyrael grew tired of this charade. He immediately stopped and decided to take a short stroll up to the Cabin of Dark Scar where Poreon and Snack were intensely flying blindly through Kuat airspace.
Being the fool that he is, Pyrael tripped as soon as he intered the cabin-- which he wasn't supposed to be in anyways. Hands flailing, he knocked a switch, the power switch to the whole Sith Infiltrator.
Amanda sat quietly aboard the ship, there wasn't much she really could do aboard the ship anyway. She lacked ship and air combat knowledge, yet still that was no reason for her not to be aboard the ship now. Though her presences was not needed now, perhaps later on it would be. She did most of her learning from observing, maybe by the end of this trip she would come home with some ship experience, well, at least she hoped to anyway. Though she felt slightly out of place, being the only Disciple aboard the ship, she was still powerful, though not as powerful as her elders, nor of those of higher rank than her. Nonetheless, the dark side of the force ran strong through her, and although she was still learning to get a firm grasp upon the dark side of the force, she was still a force to be reckoned with. She would learn, and learn well.
Oh that frelling fool! Poreon flipped. Years of anger finally poured out of him, all over that pathetic excuse for a being, Pyrael. Poreon lunged out of his chair, abandoning his attempt to fly the ship-- before Pyrael screwed everything.
Hopefully, one of the more sane Sith onboard the ship would work to reactivating power and flying this away from any attack. And maybe they would call in the capital ship reinforcements now that the covert phase of this mission was blown.
Poreon lunged, like was stated. In one fell swoop, Poreon tackled the crazy Knight taking them both to slick ground. They fell through the open cockpit door and out into the main hold of the spaceship, visible to all the Sith in the ship.
Giving Pyrael no chance of defense, Poreon backhanded Pyrael across the face and then continued by following up with a series of hook-punches.
Oh that fool. I'm going to blow his mind. Literally.
From this extreme close distant, a Force attack would be devastating, if not mortal. It would be found out shortly just how strong this mongrel Pyrael really was.
It surprised Snack when he realized the amount of concentration needed to fly blindly through space, depending on solely the Force, and not one's eyes. What surprised him more was the fact he could see perfectly out into the open space, stars, the planet of Kuat, their defenses with his eyes as well.
Wait a second... The controls were not responding, and he could see out into space with his own eyes. He darted his eyes to his left where he saw a fallen Pyrael trying to lift himself up from the dashboard thingy of the Dark Scar. On the other side, was an infurious Poreon.
"He's gonna snap," Snack uttered as he lifted his gaze from the two and back to the control consoles infront of him. Power had been shut down. They were sitting ducks out in open space, ready to be picked off like a piece of space garbage. Quickly, Snack moved his body forwards, giving a quick scan of the concole. He would have to bring power back on line, for Poreon would be going balistik soon.
.....
The shout of Poreon flying at Pyrael and the scream from Pyrael as Poreon tackled him confimred Snack's thoughts.
"Silly silly silly," He said to himself, now that the two crazed Sith had fallen into the main hold of the ship. Snack shook his head and tried to regain power to the ship. It would not be too long before they were taken out.
Pyrael took the force blow straight on. He payed dearly for the silly thought that he could withstand a blow from a Lord. A dark bolt of pure hatred zoomed out of Poreon's left hand. At a distance of thirty-five centimeters, the bolt inflicted damage to both Pyrael and the Sith Infiltrator's cosmetics.
Pyrael's chest ripped apart as the bolt hit-- sending burnt flesh splattering into the control cabin and passenger hold. A gaping hole went straight through Pyrael's chest. No organs appeared to be hit, thanks to a Yuuzhan Vong arrangement modification. Yet still, Pyrael was hurt. He fell to the floor, spent of all energy. His chest was cauterized, no blood oozed out.
The damage was not repairable. Yet Pyrael, being his foolish self, would still live on and be able to function during the Cloaked Freedom Mission.
By sheer coincidence, the splattering of Pyrael's skin and a few bones knocked the power of the infiltrator back on. The ship lurched foward, sending Poreon head first into Pyrael's stomach, causing the unconcious Pyrael to puke all over Poreon.
Yet the ship was alive and safe for the time.
Vakhar's dreary eyelids, once encroached in meditation, gradually separated as the ruckus commencing before his knarred complexion only began to thwart his patience. Severed shrapnel of flesh dominated the blank area, both on the cloaks of miscellaneous Sith loyalists and upon the glossed hull interior.
Despite the majority dispersing of flesh upon the numerous disciples sitting amidst the primary cabin, a single fragment had managed to land upon Azkarel's chest proximity of fabric.
Subtly, his eyes shifted to view the gruesome piece of tissue seeming to pulsate upon him, and slowly his vision rolled towards Pyrael and his irritable master. Initially perceiving the circumstance in a dissimulated muse of surrealism, acknowledgement developed as ire quickly shortened Azkarel's fuse of temper. Enmity forced control of his sanity, and the persona commonly pronounced for its relentless nature was welcomed by Vakhar's conscious.
"Fools...perhaps those whom plow the path of imprudence incidentally cross onto that of ignorance?"
Persisting his dormant hand to animate itself and raise slightly to a noticeable parameter, Azkarel plunged into the eyes of both perpetrators. Grinning in a melancholy tone, kinetic energy flushed as liquid among his various chaliced fingers as if in preparation to exploit a trapesphy. Granted, Vakhar only jubilantly transferred the eerie texture within his curled fingers in a melodramatically humored fashion.
"Do you intend this idiocy to proceed further in cocky arrogance...for possibly it resembles the yearn for the identification of challenge, as if young boys envelope your pathetic consciousnesses."
Amanda watched the small battle with great interest and curiousity, a slight small falling upon her lips.
I will have such power one day.
Though she did think it odd that the two Sith were fighting now, especially on such a critical mission as this. She dared not say anything though, she knew better not to talk out of turn. It was better for her to observe and keep her thoughts to herself. She was always taught to speak when spoken to anywaym and such a teaching was no different now. She continued to watch, waiting to see what would happen next.
The eyes, the stares, and the emotions beated down into the Pyrael-puke encrusted Sith Lord Poreon. He suddenly felt embarrassed.
Elevating personal discontempt just for self glory... How could I have let down my comrades... And look what I did to Pyrael... No, no. I shalln't be embarrassed. I am a Sith. A Sith Lord. Thoughts of others do not matter to me. Rather, I shall be a Sith, and hate all that lives until I am supreme ruler. Yet still, to get to the top I should work together with my comrades.
Poreon stood, wiping vomit off of his clothes. He calmly walked back into the control cabin-- not meeting eyes with the other Sith.
"Status?" his voice sounded lost in thought...
"Running smoothly again." Snack replied.
"Good. Call the Strikes in. By the time we finish our silent assassinations, they should be arriving to clean up any rebellious forces." Poreon continued. It was time to restore The Naboo Sith Order's glory.
The Sith Infiltrator crept into a Royal Kuati ship berth invisibly. Without a sound or sight, the ship-- flown masterfully by Poreon and his copilot Snack, settled down onto the floor of the Kuat Private Spaceport.
As if by magic, Pyrael regained conciousness during the slight bumps of docking and was able to partake in the mission. Sitting with his back against a wall, facing the control cabin, Pyrael watched the closed door with his head titled in a curious, dog-like manner.
With a hiss, the door slid open, revealing the body frame of Poreon. Pyrael, still feeling groggy, thought he saw Poreon smile at Pyrael, but really Poreon scowled at Pyrael.
Groggy still, Pyrael thought he heard this from Poreon: "Pyrael, I apologize for brutally attacking you and because of this mislaid anger, I'd like to take this time to promote you to Supreme Sith Conqueror of the Galaxy, the highest possible Sith rank imaginable."
But, like was stated, Pyrael was somewhat hallucinating. For real, Poreon said this: "Sith, even you pathetic Pyrael, we have reached the Kuat Royal Family's space residence without being found-- no thanks to Pyrael. They do not expect us. We must move silently and execute forcefully. We have twenty minutes to reach the royal rulers and assassinate them before the Strike Cruisers arrive for a full military takeover."
And so, the Sith, with Poreon at the lead, walked down the invisible boarding ramp of the ship into the main threshold of Royal Kuat. Pyrael trailed at the back of the procession. He saw no hostile looking guards in the room. For the first time, Pyrael was actually correct. There were no hostiles in the room.
Amanda shook her head, displeased with how Pyrael was acting, but it wasn't as if she could really say anything to him, after all, she hadn't the authority to. Poreon had tried to put him in his place, though it appeared now that doing such hadn't made much of a difference, Ptrael was still acting the same.
He is a danger to the entire group, Amanda thought silently, though doing her best to make sure that no one else read her thoughts. Though blocking her thoughts from all on the ship was rather impossible, seeing as how they all had more power than she, it never hurt her to try and be careful anyhow.
By now, Amanda's patience was getting to her, and she was growing more impatient by the minute. For a while they had been stuck aboard this ship with nothing to do but watch a fight amongest comrades, though Pyrael himself was nothing short of entertaining, he still did not cure Amanda's boredom.
With a small sigh, Amanda stood up and headed for the cockpit of the ship, not much caring to look after Pyrael and all his silly stunts and antics. She was more concerned for herself now and what she wanted. She wanted action, and well there seemed to be very little og that, at least where Amanda was concerned. She was tired of sitting around, and she would sit around no more.
There definitely was a feeling of anxiety in the group. Poreon was especially teeming with anxiety for he did not want to be late for the military bombardments.
Currently the Sith were arranged in a single file line. Poreon was in the front, Amanda behind him, then Azkarel, then Snack, and lastly Pyrael brought up the rear. Poreon slowed his step, letting Amanda fall into the leadership spot of the line. Poreon furthered slowed his step, fallinging into pace next to his fellow Sith Lord, Azkarel.
Though Poreon was in a hurry to execute the Kuat Royal Family, he thought it would be a nice little training excersise to put Amanda in command for a little while. Maybe a challenge like leading a group of Sith through the Kuat Royal Palace would alievate some of Amanda's boredom that was so easily read by a trained Sith Lord.
After visiting the cockpit for a short time, Amanda found herself marching straight for the boarding ramp, following in a line with the rest of her comrades. No sooner did she find herself at the head of the line. Though this sudden change did startle her a bit, Amanda kept her composure. After all, she was being watched and there was no room for error, she could not afford it. She looked forward, marching on, she knew what had to be done. She knew only one thing for sure as she slowly led the group into the Kuat Royal Palace, her feeling of boredom had now ceased to exist.
As the group approached the front entrance of the palace, two royal guards stood on each side of the entrance, unmoving, their faces expressionless. Amanda proded each of their monds, noting that they were weak minded. She smiled sinisterly at this new found discovery. She reached out with the dark side of the force, manipulating their minds and then she spoke.
"You will let us pass..."
The royal guards remaied unmoving as Amanda and her comrades marched on. Once she took the first step into the palace, she smiled evilly as she still held onto each guards mind, only long enough to let each comrade pass safely through the entrance doors of the palace. Once all were inside, the doors instinctively shut and locked behind them, leaving the guards just as they were before the group had entered.
Amanda's eyes seemed to glance back and forth in front of her. Just now noting the size of the palace. She did not have long to glance around as twenty or more guards approached the group at a fast pace.
"And so..the fun begins..."