OOC: This is the epic RP I mentioned. It is open to a fair degree- contact me over AIM first, before posting. Snack, Pyrael, and Chiisai (however it is spelled) are welcome already.


<hr>
Quickly, Xireon Jiren reflected, tables may turn. Roles may be reversed, lives altered. Dark to light, Light to dark, Dark from nothing, Light from less.

How... poetic, Xireon decided. Regardless, that wasn't what mattered right now, or what was trully on the young "man's" mind. He twirled the dagger between his fingers, careful- although he would have relished the pain- not to slice his fingers. The Sith's long, spindly digits whirled the brilliantly shiny weapon intricately, as his mind worked on an equally complex task.

Not complex... more... fascinating? Xireon just shook his head. All this inflection and scouring for definitions were distracting him from his true problem. Before him, on the desk from which he was working, lay a small document. Half of one, rather. One of the many things that his father, Gash, had left behind when he'd left Ziost. Of all the small artifacts and trinkets the Sith-turned-Jedi had left neglected to bring with him on his journey to Naboo, this was by far the most intruiging.

The torn sheet read:

In the age of the Talon and Turncoats,
The Talon will spaw
Blood falls withou
The Talon's sp
Though the
The age
Will be brought to fruitio
As the Talon turns from Hell to
But the Talon
The Spawn of the Talon will brin
The Spawn's forces will bring the darkness upon the ga
Light will be shunted, and destroyed.
The tears of the Gods themselves will be no, consolation
As the forces of darkness ru
Whisking away that
The fate, thoug
The Talon
As th
On.
O

Torn jaggedly, the parchment was currently useless to Xireon. Even though common logic suggested he throw it away and be done with dwelling upon it, he could not bring himself to do so. Sighing and looking out the viewport of his personal cabin aboard the Victory Star Destroyer Illithid, the son of Gash stood and quietly stroked his finger across the cold transparisteel.

The Ziost Empire was falling apart.

That was probably why he wasn't down on the planet right now, but instead orbiting it- the facility was in disrepair, members had abandoned it. It seemed pointless to trudge on. Xireon could not help but feel that he was betraying his father, Searthen- he'd left the Empire in his stewardship. Yet beyond that, he did not seem to be fulfilling... his destiny? His own ambitions? His potential? It didn't matter, again. Just speculation...

Options, options he'd run through a million times over, but never had the will to decide upon, flooded his mind. The Naboo Sith Order was a common denominator- he could recall Darth Snack, enraged by the actions of Xireon's father and great uncle, leaving, along with Vahkar Azkarel and the apprentice, Amanda Young.

Recall?

No, he couldn't. He could see, not remember, not recall. The memory was not his, but implanted, like most of the others- unlocked when he'd first seen the file on The Naboo Sith Order. But he could see the events vividly...

Sitting down again, Xireon typed up the hypercomm address on his data terminal. Almost instantaneously, the holographic symbol of TNSO sprang forth. Xireon Jiren spoke in his whimsical, sing song voice, accompanied by that characteristic accent possessed by his father.

"This is Xireon Jiren of The Sith Empire of Ziost. I request immediate audience with the Sith of The Naboo Sith Order."

*J walked past the comms room of TNSO, the room was empty. No-one was in sight. The place seemed deserted, it was cold, the air conditioning was broken again. J walked into the comms room as he saw the holocron's incoming sub-space message light flashing. He pressed the button to open the comm channel. It was Xireon Jiren, not that J knew that yet.*

I am Darth J, Sith Knight and member of TNSO. You are granted permission to bring a small landing craft down. Please bring your VSD into orbit. If it comes any closer than orbit, we will be forced to take lethal force. Report to the meeting chamber in the Naboo Sith Order main building, follow the map i am sending.

*J pressed some buttons and sent the holomap to Xireon.*

Have a nice day, and i hope we can do business.

*J pressed, the button to terminate the conversation.*

ooc: Soz :(

Xireon sat back abruptly, as the message ended quickly. He spun the chair around with the force, standing in a smooth motion. His temples ached for a moment as a memory in his mind was unlocked with the symbol of J's face-

Darth J. Sith Knight. Of The Naboo Sith Order and Pod Racing Central. Horned reaper.

Horned reaper. Well, the name certainly made sense- J was anything but a man. Six foot, or so, red, with horns... and quite rude. Xireon was quite sure his father would have put the demon in his place, but the Sith decided not to dwell on it. Wishing that his knowledge of Darth J was more complete, Xireon sat down and sighed, hearing Gash's words in his mind.

The mind holds it's information in symbols. As you witness those symbols, the information will be unlocked- though, depending on your encounter with said symbols, perhaps only a little at a time.

Which meant he'd have to dwell on the grotesque image of J for a little while. Xireon decided he wasn't that desperate to know about the monster-like alien. As these thoughts passed through his mind's-eye, D21, his recently-upgraded and highly sentient aide entered the room.

The Advanced Cobra Battledroid spoke.

'Xireon- I trust all goes well with the plans for Ziost's remaining Sith?'

The droid was a great deal more polite than his predessesor, who constantly insulted his master, Gash. Despite DeeTwo's equal intelligence and sentience, it aggrivated Xireon that his aide was so unlike his father's.

"Yes, of course. Though their... secretary... is admittedly rude, we now have permission to seek audience. Perhaps..."

The Sith Warrior glanced down at the document on his desk, reading again the half of the message.

"...Perhaps we will find something beyond what we seek there, hmm?"

'Perhaps. Shall I set a course for Xa'Fel?'

Xireon sighed once again, pocketing the torn parchment and standing.

"Yes, please do. I will join you on the bridge in a moment."

As his aide left the room, Xireon concentrated quietly for a moment. Calling the darkside to his aid, he sought the location, focused on it, recited the short spell passage...

"Ak gralgh apparatus..."

And with a small flash, he was gone- transported to the bridge. A small Sith spell he'd mastered... pleased with himself, Xireon watched as the stars outside became lines, and the ship lurched into hyperspace.

As the Sith Demon, Darth J, exited the Communications room, he ran into, and almost knocked the six foot three Sith Lord down. But the Sith Lord only moved one foot back, to regain any balance lost. He looked up into J's eyes, which were roughly three feet higher than his own.

The mere sight of this monster would have been enough to cause the bravest of men to mess their pants and have them turning to run. But Snack kept his height, and glared at J. Only because of the clumsyness to run into the Sith Lord.

Snack smirked, and backed up a few more steps to save his neck from straining too much.

"What.. or who was that?"

Darth J responded, "Someone requested a meeting here. I allowed them access, but gave them fair warning to keep their peace."

Snack nodded the best he could. "Good. How long until this person's arrival?"

"A few hours."

"Meet him at the entrence when it arrives. Lead him into the Council Chambers. I'll be awaiting him." Snack bowed his head once more, and headed for the the Council room.

*J walked off toward the landing pad. He hoped, that Xireon wouldn't come too heavily guarded. It would be foolish to try something against the glorious TNSO. Their base was heavily guarded, the smount of sith their could take out a large army, let alone someone foolish enough to try anything stupid. He arrived at the landing pad and sat down on a waiting bench, he took out the latest issue of 'torture montly' and began reading up on strange and new techniques to make even those strong in the force admit that luke skywalker was a talking walrus. He chuckled to himself at this thought. He continued reading.*

Ever since the Lady Athena arrived at The Naboo Sith Order's doorstep, Pyrael resisted contact with his comrades inside the Order. Rather, he mostly kept to himself, sulking around in the shadows, watching the proceedings of the past few weeks unnoticed.

Other members of the Order must have noticed something about Pyrael's change of behavior. So far, they hadn't confronted him; but then again, Pyrael thought he probably wouldn't let them confront him. They must have noticed him spying in on Elder summits. They must have! They had to! They surely knew what Pyrael was up to! Yet, they hadn't spoken of it.

This last thought had been plauging Pyrael the past weeks almost more than the appearance of the Lady Athena. Surely the Elders sensed something wrong. Yet they did not act, and this drove Pyrael more insane than he already was.

For the past two hours, Pyrael lie in a fetal position on his quarter's small military issue cot. Tormented screams, violent convulsions, and possessed babbling prevented Pyrael from thinking clearly, not that he did to begin with. In the past half hour, the screaming and the convulsions had grown more frequent; sometimes not even a quarter minute passed between vomits.

And then, every once in a while, like now, Pyrael would just lie on his bunk and cry like a pathetic, injured human infant.
----------------------------
He had two pasts: both mutilated to a point where their paths crisscrossed so much that nothing could be made sense of. He had two pasts: both ending in tragic death. He had two pasts: both lifes of power. He had two pasts: both lifes of knowledge.

One past, the more mutilated of the two, ended in birth of two hideous children. That past was marked by success, then defeat, and then success far greater than Yun-Yammka could forsee. That success became too much at one point. The gods turned on that past, destroying the life in the creation of two new ones to live on the legacy.

One past, the more civilized of the two, ended in living test tubes. That pass was marked by success--military, business, knowledge--, then defeat, the more success, and then it ended in cold betrayal. That betrayal would cost the known galaxy sufferings far worse. The light turned on that past, destroying the life while converging it into one far worse.
------------------
Pyrael screamed again in the darkness of his room. This scream was filled with much more anguish than previous ones. It was followed by another course of pilging, and then silence fell upon the troubled soul of Pyrael. Deep sleep came upon Pyrael, yet even in what should be peace, Pyrael felt haunted.

Xireon Jiren sat, eyes closed and arms folded, aboard the shuttle Black Glory. Under his eyelids, his crimson orbs darted back and forth, as possible scenarios flashed through his mind at a lightning pace. Mumbling something quietly as though writing it down, his eyes snapped open, and he glared at the droid pilot.

"Two minutes. Correct?"

'Yes, sir.'

Xireon had the innate ability to keep track of time accurately, and divide that by the speed of the ship's movement- which he gleaned from the degree of the lurch- to determine exact positioning of a craft on which he was boarded. Another product of Gash Jiren's careful mental implanting into Xireon.

A mild shudder ran through the young man, as he remembered that he wasn't, really, a person.

He was a creation. A masterpiece, though.

Gash Jiren's genetic masterpiece.

And that, Xireon decided, counted for as much as being a real person any day. With a clunk, the ship set down, and the landing ramp behind the cockpit opened. A hiss could be heard as the cabin was de-pressurized, and, flanked by his Cobra Battledroids- 8 of them- Xireon strode from the ship onto the TNSO landing pad.

*J looked up, the hiss of the ship had alerted him, he put his magazine away and walked over to Xireon. He looked at the cobra battle droids.*

You better not be trying anything.

*He looked up at Xireon*

This way, follow me to the council room.

*J walked off in the direction of the council chamber, Xireon and his battledroids followed closely*

Xireon smirked silently, glancing warily back to nod at D21. He'd objected, at first, to his aide coming along on the mission- but the memory of J's ugly visage had prompted him to allow the sentient droid along. Not fear, really: more a ready knowledge that these members of The Naboo Sith Order were not to be trusted.

Xireon, regardless, trusted no one.

The soft clink-clink of his droids behind him brought some very small measure of pride to the handsome young man. An entire army under his command- Soon, perhaps, more...

That thought startled Xireon, who was unsure as to what caused him to think it. He had no immediate plans for conquest... but found his hand slipping to the torn sheet of paper in his pocket. Another burst of intuition- the son of Gash reasoned- So perhaps this parchment means more than meets the eye.

The great horned Sith demon, the tanned Sith Warrior, the sentient droid, and the seven other Cobra Battledroids all strode into the TNSO council room. DeeTwo stepped up beside Xireon, and the pair faced forward almost defiantly.

"Honored council of TNSO... I am Xireon Jiren, son of Searthen, of the Sith Empire of Ziost. I come bearing a proposition, and a query."

When the starship anomaly entered Xa Fel spacelanes, Pyrael's fitful slumber broke. It seemed as though finally, an ounce of sanity had graced Pyrael's mind. The vommitting stopped, as did the screams. All that remaind of the Sith Knight's torment was dark pangs that shot through his body ever so often.

He staggered to his feet. Alone in his chambers, noone was there to help Pyrael as he groped around the darkness. He stumbled a few times over discarded items on the floor, a hangover impairing all of Pyrael's senses.

The Force fluttered around inside Pyrael, foreshadowing a great Death soon to come.
---------
In both histories, the Death had been soon to come.

In Shimmra's past, the Death had come. Normally, he would have embraced the Death but something about this Death seemed like a flag at half mast, something not to be cherished.

In Astro Lah's past, the Death had come. He lived beyond the Death, but something about this Death haunted his mind forever. Eventually, the Death drove him to isolation.
------------
Whatever happened in the pasts, Pyrael did not know; he did not bother to know. To him, it was just one sealed off piece of time that wasn't worth relearning. Yes, he knew what happened, but he only knew it from a blurred perspective. He feared the blurred perspective.

Hints of sanity and insanity ran wild through Pyrael. Beneath it all, there was a brilliant mind; heavily scarred, but it was still there for sure.

Reaching his destination, or rather where Pyrael's hallucinations took him, Pyrael stopped. He drooped, hunched over, arms swinging to catch his balance. There were plenty of people in the room. They were all swirled into a tie-died blend because of the impenetrable hangover.

If the blend were sentient, which Pyrael had enough mind to presume, all their eyes would be on this insane Sith Knight. They would wonder what brought this pathetic being into their sanctuary. Others would be spellbound. And yet others would be angry.

"Don't listen to this... this... infidel. He brings the Death."

Pyrael collapsed, once again reverting to his convulsions.