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swtorpadawan · 10 months

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Unmasked

Author’s Notes: The following story takes place in my Nas Legacy as part of my Monsters and Masks series. Content warnings for original character death, some blood/gore and bigotry towards non-humans. Lots of angst, here, folks.

Nas'haes'uhme – Shaesu to those few in the Empire who deigned to address her by her own name – collapsed upon the rocky ground of Korriban, her vibro-blade falling out of her hand.

She knew it was over for her.

The stab wound to her torso was already bleeding out, and her attackers were unlikely to give her any respite. Her strength was fading rapidly with her limbs barely responding to her commands. She certainly couldn’t muster the strength to stand, much less defend herself.

Haes – her proper given name as a Chiss – had come to this accursed world in the hopes of earning a place amongst the Sith. She ’d been aware that the odds had been against her; she was starting out several years older than the average Sith Acolyte at the academy and besides that she faced considerable discrimination from her ‘fellow pupils’, virtually all of whom were human or Pureblooded Sith. It had immediately made her a target. Even the former Jedi who had been broken and turned to the dark side held an advantage over her in experience if not philosophy.

Of course, had matters gone otherwise, Haes would never have chosen to come to Korriban for Sith training at all.

Two years ago, after the death of her husband (killed by fighting in someone else’s war, she didn’t need to remind herself), Haes had been exiled from the Chiss Ascendancy when her Force sensitivity had been revealed to the authorities. With few connections outside of her own people, the Sith Empire was the only viable place she could go. And as a Force-sensitive, Sith training was the only real path open to her.

Above her stood her attackers, glaring down at their victim. Hanik, a human, and Mathiren, a Sith Pureblood. The two acolytes had ambushed her as she’d stepped outside of the tomb, the ancient tablet she’d recovered laying shattered where she’d dropped it.

It shouldn’t have surprised her that these two would have chanced such a cowardly move out here, so far from the relative safety of the Sith Academy. With their modest individual abilities, they’d have known they couldn’t have taken her on their own in a straight-up fight, certainly not without alerting the Overseers.

They had provoked and even bullied her many times these last few months, and for reasons that were understandable to the Sith mindset. After all, she was alone. A minority of one, without natural friends or allies. She could count on one hand the number of Acolytes on Korriban who were not either human or pureblooded.

And if she was not the first Chiss to ever step down upon this cursed rock, she would have been astonished.

As she felt her breath start to go shallow, her thoughts naturally turned to her children. They’d been the only reason why she had pushed herself even this far.

She wondered what the Empire, and indeed the galaxy itself, would do to them without her being alive to protect them.

She had been heart-broken when she’d left them with the Nedecca family on Dromund Kaas while she’d headed off to Korriban.She was not entirely fond of the couple, who had served in the Imperial Military alongside her husband before he’d been killed in the fighting against the Republic. But they were the closest thing she had to friends in the Empire. They were also not unambitious; if Haes had succeeded in her goal of becoming a Sith and eventually a Sith Lord, they knew they’d be well-rewarded for their aid. For them, fostering a pair of ‘alien children’ had been worth the bother.

But now, in light of her failure to survive and advance, she didn’t think they would do much to protect them, even if they could. They were a practical couple. Besides, they had their own daughter to consider, a few years older than her own children, just last season entering the Imperial Academy on Ziost.

They would not risk either their own lives or their daughter’s future by defying the Sith for a pair of non-human children who were not their own.

She was worried for Nas’ash’dia, of course. It had been months since she’d seen the last holo of Ash. At twelve years old, Haes was leaving her lovely daughter behind at the precipice of womanhood. But she also knew her clever daughter was a survivor; if any non-human child could survive being orphaned in the Sith Empire, then Nas’ash’dia could.

But loath though she was to play favorites, she felt greater concern for Nas'laeso'ucu.

Where his sister was highly intelligent and resourceful, her son Laeso was brilliant. Even as a small child back on Copero, his curiosity and intellect were far beyond Haes’ ability to comprehend, as he would devour book after book. Even then, she and her husband had privately spoken about the limitless future their son had before him. No endeavor would be outside his potential. Now at eight years old, his intellect intimidated the Nedeccas, who observed this young Chiss boy easily pass every test their teaching droid could put to him.

But his intelligence was not what worried Haes. No. She’d gone to great lengths to conceal that Laeso was Force-sensitive.

If his abilities were discovered with her death, he’d follow his mother’s path to Korriban soon enough, likely with the same destiny.

If his abilities were not discovered, his fate might be even grimmer. The Sith of Korriban were usually at least quick. She couldn’t imagine how long a frail child such as Laeso would survive mining ore on some distant slave mine facility.

Haes felt a tear trail down her cheek.

“Hey, she’s still breathing.” Hanik jeered, the insult snapping her consciousness back to reality. “Think this alien schutta is asking for more?”

The anger flared within Haes’ chest, refocusing her thoughts. The building rage was not for herself, but for her children. Her magnificent children who she would never see again and who would almost certainly suffer greatly in her absence. As her teeth gritted in fury, her finger reached out.

Behind Hannik, Haes’ vibroblade lifted off the ground…

The Sith Acolyte screamed out as the weapon impaled him through the back, jutting out of his chest. Blood sprayed out over the rocks, much of it raining down on her.

She smiled at the sensation, the hot, fresh blood of her slain enemy warming her even as the last of her strength and rage was exhausted. Her blade clattered to the ground.

Alarmed at his companion’s sudden demise, Mathiren frantically raised his blade to finish her off.

Haes could only reflect on her legacy.

She’d worn a mask for years to protect her children, desperately attempting to become something she wasn’t.

In these final moments of her life, she was, in fact, a Sith.

As the blade swung down and her life came to an end, Haes could only hope her children would learn to survive by wearing their own masks, without becoming monsters.

Fifteen years later…

The assembled members of the Dark Council of the Sith Empire – ostensibly the twelve most powerful Sith in the galaxy – stood in their council chamber on the top floor of the Sith Academy of Korriban.

Perilous as the existence of any Sith could be, the death of one who sat upon the Dark Council was still considered a remarkable event, even when it was the second such death they had witnessed in less than an hour.

By necessity, this Council meeting had already been well short of a full dozen in physical attendance.

Three of their number – Darth Decimus, Darth Acharon and Darth Hadra – the heads of the Spheres of Military Strategy, Biotic Science and Technology, respectively – were appearing by holoprojection as they’d been committed to overseeing the Empire’s flagging efforts on Corellia.

Three more Councilors – Darth Rictus, the oldest serving member of the Council who commanded the Sphere of Mysteries, Darth Zhorrid, the youngest Councilor who nominally presided over the Sphere of Imperial Intelligence and Darth Aruk who led the Sphere of Sith Philosophy – were entirely absent. Rictus was occupied investigating rumors into the whereabouts of the rogue Sith Lord Darth Jadus, himself a former Councilor and the father of Darth Zhorrid. Zhorrid’s own absence was no great surprise, given the Council’s recent dissolution of the Empire’s once-feared Imperial Intelligence service. No doubt, the young Sith was desperately trying to cling to her crumbling power base. Meanwhile, Aruk was absent while dealing with some dissident conspiracy on the capital world of Dromund Kaas.

A seventh Dark Lord – Darth Baras, who had taken control of the Sphere of Military Offense after Darth Vengean’s fall – had been killed in this very chamber earlier in this session by his former Apprentice in a private duel. That Apprentice had in turn successfully claimed the title of the Emperor’s Wrath before departing.

Finally, an eighth – Darth Thanaton, who had represented the Sphere of Ancient Knowledge for less than a year – now lay freshly dead on the floor.

That left a mere four Dark Lords of the Sith physically present to mark Thanaton’s passing, and to stand witness for what was now to come.

It may have been Darth Mortis who had delivered the death blow to Thanaton in a mercy-killing to preserve the dignity of the Council, but no one could deny the potency of the strange, masked Sith who had just bested their former colleague in a Force duel with a brilliant display. His build was slight and his lineage was unclear; there had supposedly been a ‘Lord Kallig’ many centuries ago in the days of Tulak Hord, but that was ancient history, and the name representing little more than a footnote in the modern Sith Empire.

Nevertheless, despite his unassuming posture and his much-maligned origins, the upstart projected an air of power about them, and not simply because they had just witnessed him crushing one of their number. Thanaton’s time on the Council may have been relatively brief and more than a few found him tedious, but none would have questioned his personal power when he’d succeeded Darth Arctis some months ago.

Off to the side stood the newcomer’s two seconds; a Dashade shadow-assassin and a Kaleeshi Sith Apprentice. Strictly speaking, protocol demanded that the peculiar duo should have remained outside the council chambers, along with their master. None had been properly invited into the chamber. But as it was apparent that Thanaton’s followers guarding the door had failed in that simple task of security (as they had been repeatedly outmaneuvered over the last several weeks during the Kaggath between the two Sith), no one on the Council had bothered to force their eviction. As they had not actively interfered in the fight with Thanaton, to the assembled Dark Lords, they were irrelevant.

The masked Sith Lord paused at that, regarding Mortis, then turning towards the seat in consideration. Finally, he turned back to address all the assembled members of the Council.

“My lords, I’m… I’m truly honored.” He finally spoke; his voice was clear through the filter of the mask, though it was rather lighter than one might have expected from a young Sith Lord who had dared so much.

“I was not expecting this at all.”

The words were humble.

None of the Sith present believed they were sincere, but such was to be expected.

Such considerations were, once again, irrelevant. The strong had overcome the weak. The corrupt had been cleansed.

The ways of the Sith had been preserved, as Thanaton had insisted.

“You just killed a Dark Council member in fair combat.” Darth Marr, the head of the Sphere of Military Defense, pointed out, his iconic masked face looking up from Thanaton’s fallen form.

“What did you expect?”

The deliberations were not without protest.

“He’s only a lord!” Darth Ravage, who ruled the Sphere of Expansion and Diplomacy, was incredulous. “You can’t put a lord on the Dark Council!”

“Quiet, Ravage!” Marr snapped at his junior Councilor. “He’s earned his place.”

The young Sith Lord who had been the subject of the argument tilted his head at the exchange, as if carefully considering something. Finally, his hands reached up behind his head as he unclasped the skull-mask he was wearing, letting it fall away.

A collective gasp could be heard from several members of the Council, including those observing by holo. Ravage visibly gaped while Darth Vowrawn, the head of the Empire’s Sphere of Production and Logistics, chuckled to himself at the revelation. Only Marr and Mortis maintained something approaching a professional decorum, standing in a stoic silence.

The face before them was young; this was no surprise. Everyone knew that Thanaton’s opponent in the Kaggath was an upstart. The face was likewise heavily scarred; the defects crisscrossed him from old injuries. That was also not a surprise; Thanaton himself had protested that this interloper had once been a slave before becoming Zash’s apprentice, and more than a few slaves in the Empire bore such scars.

No. What had startled many of the Councilors was the fact that the face looking back at them was blue with glowing red eyes that regarded each of them with a cool intellect that might have unsettled the Emperor himself.

Incredibly, this newest addition to the Dark Council was a Chiss.

“Are we really going to allow this… this alien filth to sit on the Dark Council?”

If Ravage had been incredulous before, he was now fast becoming apoplectic, looking around the room to his assembled fellows.

“Without even consulting with the Emperor whom we are sworn to serve?” he spat.

“Enough, Ravage.” Darth Marr waved a dismissive hand.

Ravage’s ploy had been obvious. The Emperor, it was well known, rarely took an active role in day-to-day Council matters, even to name a replacement. It could be months – if not longer – before he made his will known.

For a Sith like Darth Marr, who had lived long enough to observe Thanaton’s rise from slave to apprentice of a disgraced master to Sith Lord to Dark Lord of the Sith, such a gap in the Empire’s leadership structure would be unacceptable.

He turned and acknowledged the latest addition to the Dark Council.

”As I have said, he has earned to right to that seat.”

Minutes later, the newly appointed Dark Councilor of the Sphere of Ancient Knowledge made his exit from the chambers, Khem Val and Xalek in tow. The Kalesshi held the discarded Kallig mask in his hands, carrying it reverently.

He had worn many names while walking along the path that had led him to this point.

He was departing from this planet – a planet that had forged him in so many ways – as Darth Imperious of the Empire’s Dark Council. In and of itself, this name meant nothing to him, aside from the authority that had come with it. He accepted that it now referred to him by anyone within the Sith Empire.

Prior to this, he had been commonly known as Lord Kallig. This name had been inadvertently stolen; the consequence of a delusional ancient Force ghost misidentifying him at the Dark Temple on Dromund Kaas. Nevertheless, he accepted that the name had granted him a degree of credibility within the Empire. Regardless, as was now the case with his Dark Councilor title, that name personally meant nothing to him.

For most of his life, he had been called ‘Ozibaumnu’. That name’s origins had been meaningless from the first moment he’d uttered it; a series of barely coherent syllables muttered on the day he’d been sold into slavery as a child. It had nevertheless come to symbolize a breaking with his past, from before he had worn a slave collar. For that small circle of people he now called friends – Ashara, Andronikos and Talos – from them, he would continue to accept that name. From anyone else, it would now be as meaningless in effect as well as in fact.

But none of those names had ever really been his.

His name was Nas'laeso'ucu. Son of Nas'haes'uhme. Brother to Nas’ash’dia.

And regardless of whether he ever used that name aloud, he would never wear a mask again.

END

Author’s Notes: Just in case it wasn’t obvious, several lines of dialogue in this piece were pulled directly from the end of the Sith Inquisitor story on Korriban.

Ozibaumnu’s name originally had a different, more Chiss-appropriate origin. Unfortunately, I lost the notes on that, and when I reread the Chiss naming conventions article, I realized that it didn’t make sense. This is my best effort to reconcile all of those continuity issues. On a related note, ‘Shaesu’ is pronounced ‘Shay-sue’, while ‘Laeso’ is pronounced ‘Lay-sue’ and Nas’ash’dia is pronounced ‘Nazz-osh-dee-ah’, even though her personal name is usually pronounced ‘Ash’. (Yeah, I know Chiss names are weird.)

This story was originally two separate chapters, with Shaesu’s titled What We Leave Behind. The combination of the two seemed to work. (I do love before-and-after stories.)

As stated elsewhere, I’m ignoring Chiss aging rules. As far as I’m concerned, they are approximately the same standard as humans.

Now for the elephant in the room I inserted near the end – yup. Ozibaumnu is NOT the actual descendant of Lord Kallig. I may address this in future stories, but it’s been an idea I’ve been turning over in my head for a long time.

The referenced daughter of the Nedecca family later becomes a Major in the Imperial Army and an NPC in the game. She shows up on Corellia in the Imperial Agent storyline, serving as an aid to Lord Razer. As you might imagine, her reunion with Nas’ash’dia was rather awkward.

I always thought it was hilarious that Darth Ravage was heading the Empire’s “Sphere of Expansion and Diplomacy”, considering he’s one of the least diplomatic Sith in the entire game. On that note, tracking the Dark Council members and their assignment Spheres is a pet-project of mine.

The reasons for the Ascendancy to join forces with an Empire (that usually doesn’t see Chiss as people much less equals) are convoluted and I hope to explore those in the future. But it seemed to make sense that the children of an exile and failed Sith acolyte would be pressed into slavery, rather than being sent back to their people.

I’ve written about Nas’ash’dia elsewhere. It is strange to me that she predated Ozi – and is in fact the Outlander in my Nas Legacy – and yet I’m more comfortable writing about her brilliant but traumatized brother. More about Ash in the future, I hope.

People continuing to fight after being shot or stabbed in the chest is a pet peeve of mine. In real life, that (almost) never happens. The strength just drains right out of you. I try to adhere to reality here with Shaesu.

Thank you for reading, and may the Force be with you.

@abbee-normal @abysskeeper @cryo-lily @eorzeashan @grandninjamasterren @iacyper9 @kartaylirsden @kemendin @magicallulu7 @moxtoons-main @mysterious-cuchulainn-x @taraum @thefrostflower @swtorhub

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jolyne-best-jojo · 29 days

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Darth Imperious when Ravage says anything during a council meeting.

#swtor #star wars #darth imperius #darth ravage #sith Inquisitor

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snootysith · 1 year

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@sassheliosazuras

HOW DID YOU KNOW

#jk hahahahahaha.................. unless...........#😏😏😏#swtor #fic: for the faint of heart #darth marr #darth ravage

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theshijlegacy · 1 year

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Khay and his now-tamed ghosts defeat Thanaton, thus earning a seat on the Dark Council.

#swtor #sith inquisitor spoilers #korriban #darth marr #darth ravage #darth thanaton #oc: khay

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wayfinderlegacy · 1 year

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Saris: *Walking in to the Dark Council Chambers* Sorry I’m late... I was... doing things. *Sounds of running footsteps progressively getting louder* Ravage: *Out of breath* THEY PUSHED ME DOWN THE FUCKIN’ STAIRS.

#Incorrect Quotes #Kryys'ari'sahrin #Darth Ravage

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kossamer · 2 months

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"Esteemed Dark Lord,

Glory to the Sith! Attached please find the introductory materials you requested for your perusal.

Given that Darth Nox is quite... young, I have taken the liberty to convey the information the way young acolytes communicate. Kindly grant approval and I will hand this to him myself.

Your humble servant,

Secretary of the Dark Council"

"Mister Secretary,

Looks good!

Best regards,

Darth Vowrawn"

"RASCAL

OFFICE NOW

RAVAGE"

Its whatever sunday!! Loads more fun that the current projects im working on 💀

Ive included pfp versions if anyones crazy enough to use it, but please give credit!!

Part 2:

Also a video with an ugly smirk from yours truly.

#youre tripping if you think memes dont exist in the old republic era #as someone whos had to study meme culture #they exist in different forms but theyre older than you think #star wars #swtor #star wars the old republic #digital art #digital illustration #procreate #swtor sith inquisitor #sith #dark council #star wars memes #swtor memes

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siphersaysstuff · 6 days

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MAY MECH MARATHON

So for May's Patreon-backed @tfwiki toy picture batch, I got a wild hair. After last month's Exdimensions update, I realized that the wiki was missing Legend of the Microns (Armada) Exdimensions Twist (Makeshift), the only XD Emergency Team toy I hadn't done. So I did him up. Hooray!

Then the next day I was staring at the raw photos I took of Retro Hot Rod, which were in my Patreon "working" folder because I didn't have a "Retro" repository folder because I am almost certainly not going to get any others in this line, so I did his pic up... besides, it's the "flagship" toy of the line, it should get unique imagery. God he's gorgeous.

At that point I went " to hell with it" and decided that for each weekday in May, I'd do one toy pic from a random, whatever-I-felt-like selection. No overarching theme, and trying to hit a pretty broad swath of toylines and timeframes. Thus...

Not sure why I picked Universe Magna Stampede next. I actually had to dig him up to take these pics. I think I'd just chanced upon his stock imagery, which was craptastic and also showed the axe split in two, which I'm certain the toy is not supposed to do, and went "no, I'm'a fix this.

And this last week's updates...

I picked up Decoy Smokescreen for cheap at TFCon, and really, the wiki's Decoy coverage has been... lacking. Mostly in that they were sold in so many colors and different ways in Japan that the wiki barely touches on. Smokescreen's page is now the template for how Decoys should be, so I'll get to those in time.

There's not much story here with Animated Lugnut. Most of the wiki's Animated toy imagery is stock, and while stock quality had improved since 2003 (it'd almost have to), it's still not great. Taking pics of the real, final-release toy will almost always be preferable for a number of reasons.

Takara's Mega Super Collection Figure Starscream was part of the big early-2000s burst of G1 merch in Japan. A 5-inch fairly-posable soft-plastic figure with swappable parts, he and a handful of other big-name characters were made, plus several Legends of the Microns headliners.

Power Up VT6 is from the "Real Gear Robots" subline of the 2007 Transformers movie series, one of a large range of 1:1-scale toys that transform from personal electronic devices into robots. He's also one of the few whose altmode is not almost totally outdated. The Cybertron-based stickers on the early Real Gears led to the belief that these were canceled /re-assigned Cybertron toys, but nope! They were made specifically for the movie line, it's just that in order to get them into production, they had to get those decals out fast.

Remember Attacktix? No? Not shocking. Hasbro had an admittedly cool idea for an action tabletop game, started the line with Star Wars, and moved on to Transformers. Yes, officially, you could have Optimus Prime fight Darth Vader. Battle Ravage was one of the booster-pack common pieces (laughably officially "Rare"). You rolled his base forward a set number of "tix" (a clicky-thing in the base counted them off), then could use his spring-loaded waist to swing the mace-ball in the hopes of knocking over your opponent's pieces. There's other rules but that's the jist of it. Each booster-pack piece commonly came with a black base, but there was a roughly 1-in-8 chance of getting a silver-chrome base one, which had no gameplay differences but it was shiny. Sadly, the whole Attacktix line was cancelled after only one series of Transformers pieces were released, with several more based on Generation 1 shown off but doomed to never see release.

Next Saturday, I'll update with the pics done over the course of this coming week!

And remember, if you like these big pic jaunts, you can help make this bigger and better by tossing a tip via Patreon. Just look up "gregstfwikipics" at that site! You can even help pick a monthly theme!

#transformers #tfwiki #generation 1 #transformers generation 1 #transformers g1 #hot rod #transformers armada #mini-cons #starscream #transformers animated #lugnut #transformers movie #real gear robots #transformers toys

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acourtofsnakes · 1 year

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Desolation - Freefall, Chapter 4 || The Bad Batch x Jedi!Reader

Summary: Can you always trust a Force vision? Knowing what Anakin saw of his mother, you've always believed in them. But the things you see... They might just be the end of you.

Warnings: 18+, TBB Season 2 finale spoilers, extensive injuries, descriptions of drugs, blood, falls, canon violence and weapons, swearing, nicknamed reader (Ghost)

A/N: A good chunk of this chapter will describe in detail the events of the finale. I wrote this chapter shortly after watching it and needed to get that emotion out somewhere. I am more than happy to send an edited version without those scenes, just shoot me a message✨

Series Masterlist | Series Playlist

Now

During your time with the boys, you had never felt a hand of violence. Never seen anger in their eyes, never seen them look upon you in disgust or confusion. You had never watched their expression glaze over when you went on an infodump about something, and they never rolled their eyes when you struggled to explain the howling storm inside your head and chest.

Even after everything, Crosshair never laid a hand in you with the intention to hurt. Ever.

There may have been fury in his eyes sometimes but there was never violence toward you.

Not from any of them.

Not like now.

Your body screamed, howled with agony every time your heart struggled to beat, to push blood around your shattered form.

Every breath was a mixture of fires hotter than Mustafar, ice colder than Hoth and lightning fiercer than Kamino. As if someone was pouring jet fuel into your lungs and setting it ablaze.

You didn’t feel the cold anymore though, so that was something.

Everything was a drug fuelled haze, the very life, the Force, in you choked and restrained, leaving you shaking, numb, cut off from the world and the living energy of everything.

It was like being in a pit in the darkest, deepest corner of the Galaxy.

Of course, there were days where you were in somewhere just like that.

Not a pi though, but a box.

A coffin, almost. They’d found it in the rubble of the Clone War, copied its designs and commissioned a handful to be made for moments like this.

If it could hold Darth Maul, it could hold you.

That’s what they said.

You’d never be able to break out of that, regardless of your power being up by what Anakin’s used to be.

Don’t worry about her, she’s too weak to be a threat. Not anymore.

Were you still a threat?

You didn’t know now.

You flexed your fingers as much as you could, feeling the dried blood crack on your skin, thick and itchy.

They hadn’t bothered to clean you off before they hauled you in here, the screams of their brethren still echoing from your loss of control, the moment where you snapped and let that beast rage free.

I let it out, Crosshair.

But you weren’t there to see it.

None of you were.

The liquid they pumped into you felt heavy in your veins, sick, wrong. It dragged through your body, leaving it icy cold and numb. The force presence in your soul was limp, whimpering in agony from the effects of the cage, so ravaged that it couldn’t even alert you to the fact this drug was poison of the worst kind, chugging slowly towards your brain.

It was slow enough that you felt it, felt the way it left nothing behind, dragging the life from your body so delicately, so painfully that it was as if you felt every single limb go dead and weak.

You were effectively paralysed, lungs feeling like duracrete was being poured into them, each breath like shallow fire.

It slowed down your heart, so slowly you swore you could hear each tendon and muscle pushing blood that was too thick and too cold into unresponsive veins.

Then it reached your mind.

It paused, as if assessing where to begin but then it tore through your mental shields, destroying you so potently from within that you were out cold in less than a second, flung into a heavy oblivion that weighed in from all sides, stuffing down your throat and ears, strangling you within your own body, leaving you defenceless and subservient as that crackling, thundering fight dragged out of you in an instant.

You were crushed in that awful place for what felt like forever yet no time at all, for then you were dumped into the middle of a storm, the sky roaring in fury, crashing, echoing like it was trying to come apart as harsh lightning forked across the sky with enough power to make the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end.

Then you were knocked sideways between one blink and the next, suddenly on a traincart hundreds and hundreds of feet in the air. It was rocking heavily side to side, that sickening screech of metal protesting as it barely hung on.

Bright, searing bolts shot past on all sides, whizzing through the air from the TIE fighters advancing in relentless waves.

It was clear that luck was not on the boy's side, even though you flung your hands out to try and deflect the bolts. But nothing happened. Nothing.

“Hunter!!! Hunter, we need to get this cart moving, they’re going to swarm us.” You looked around frantically for something, anything to help… Yet Hunter didn’t respond. He just kept firing, like he hadn’t heard you.

That was weird.

You frowned at the side of his face, drawing your sabers and you lifted them to try and deflect this way - but the shots went straight through.

It’s like… Like you weren’t here.

Present yet invisible.

Confusion clouded your mind until a memory surfaced from the fog, one of Anakin, frantically pacing in front of you, sandy hair in wild disarray as he recounted the dreams he had been having of his mother, how he was there with her but could do nothing.

Visions, brought forward through the force, sometimes seconds in advance, sometimes right in that moment.

Which meant whilst you were here, bound and gagged in a beskar box, your boys were fighting for their lives.

And you could do nothing to help.

There were no words for the terror you were feeling, side by side with Hunter as he fought for his life, shooting down TIE fighters with nothing but his blasters, but for every single fighter that fell from the sky, another took its place, battering the cart with relentless shots.

“Hurry up, Tech!!!” Wrecker’s strained voice rumbled from somewhere behind you, and you spun round to see Omega and Wrecker hovering at the end of the card, Wrecker’s hands wrapped around the very framework of the adjoining one and his muscles rippling as he fought to keep it stable.

But then that meant…

Your heart dropped somewhere to the ground below, and you raced across the cart, the debris causing you no trouble as you simply passed through it like a phantom. Thankfully, that would mean your weight couldn’t shift anything, because…

Because what you saw over Wrecker’s shoulder was enough to churn your stomach and rip away every single breath and coherent thought you had.

Tech was dangling below the destroyed cart, his grappling line looped around the frame as he pulled himself up as quick as he could, one hand over the other, up up up but it felt like he was gaining no ground, still stuck in the same place as another wave of attacks rattled the entire structure. Metal screeched and rumbled, the sound tearing through your limbs because there was only one way this thing was going to end.

Omega sobbed, dancing on her feet behind Wrecker, her bow drawn in readiness but the tears building in her eyes were going to make any target a blurry mess. You would know, you felt the same. “Come on, Tech, just a little more, you have to hurry!!” The fear in her words was so potent, so raw that it caused a sob to wrack in your chest and you looked down at Tech, wishing you could be there, could be truly beside these boys so you could help.

You could have had him up now, safe, all of them safe.

“I can’t keep them back for much longer, there’s too many of them!!” For the first time in the entire time you knew him, there was panic in Hunter’s words, a franticness that was so different to his usual composure.

It was like that moment in a bad dream, the second right before you fell, that one moment where primal instinct told you that you couldn’t make it. That nothing you did would get you out of this.

Tech looked over his shoulder at the rising attacks, the whir and hum of more fighters approaching, the onslaught of enemy fire becoming something that would be impossible to fight, even if you had been there with sabers in hand, “Wrecker, you must take Omega and Hunter and leave me, get back to Echo. Now!”

No, no no no no no - you knew that tone. You’d heard that tone from so many of your friends, so many of your loved ones over the years. And it always ended in agony.

“No.” Wrecker’s snarl was more animal than human, violent almost in its outright intense refusal. “Don’t you dare. That’s an order, Tech.”

Omega was choking on sobs now, trying to get past Wrecker but he was managing to block her as well as hold onto the bars, “Tech no, please!! Please don’t do this, you can get up, you can do it!” She threw her bow to the side, ducking underneath Wrecker’s arm and she flung her own out into open space, “Here! Take my hand, take it!! I can pull you up - please Tech!” Her body was hanging far too close over the edge, and Wrecker shifted, his boot coming across to in front of her knees, bracing her but he made no moves to stop her - he couldn’t.

Tech slowly looked up, his honey eyes heavy and weighted. Knowing. “When have we ever followed orders, Wrecker?” He sounded weary, as if… As if he’d already accepted what was to happen. He lifted his hand, his blaster nestled between his fingers and he took aim at the bolts holding the cart to the line, his aim as sure as Crosshair’s, as calculated and perfect. “Bring Ghost home safe.”

And then if in slow motion, his finger squeezed down on the trigger, the blaster bolt cutting through the air, through your heart.

Time sped up again and your silent scream tore through your body, helpless to be heard or to help, yet echoed by Wrecker’s roar of anguish as the structure slipped through his palms, cutting deep.

Omega’s mirroring scream as both Tech and the cart fell, his eyes drifting to the space where you were, widening for a second as if he could see you there.

Before you could do anything, you were flung sideways, everything going black before it exploded into colour again, damp clouds flashing past your vision, the sickening sense of every organ, every drop of blood being propelled the opposite way as your body hurtled toward the ground with unstoppable force.

You were in Tech’s body.

It was only when the clouds, smoke and debris blocked his vision that he allowed himself a cry of fear, instantly snatched away by the wind, his breath coming in short, sharp pants.

Through the haze of terror in his brain, he frantically tried to think of a way out of this, think of something he could do, something he could use to stop his fall and get back to his brothers - but he came up empty. There was nothing. He couldn’t do anything.

He could only watch the display through his visor, the number of feet dropping so quickly that the symbols were a blur as the ground came racing up toward him.

At least he managed to save his brothers, give them the chance they needed to escape, to get to you and save you.

Bring you home, finally.

A sense of peace washed over him, washed over you, the pair of you spinning through the air, down, down, down.

When his descent dropped into triple figures, he closed his eyes. A single breath, drawn in, filling his lungs, his last image not that of the debris rushing down to meet him, but of his family.

All of his brothers, together, laughing with Omega.

Of you, in the middle, laughing with your head tipped back and not an inch of a stormcloud weighing down on any of you.

Double figures.

Then single.

Then… Nothing.

He was gone.

Yet, if you thought this vision would end there, you were so very wrong.

Now, you were in Hunter’s body, silence raging in his head above the chaos of battle around him, because he could no longer hear his brother’s rapid heartbeat.

He heard the impact, the thud of bone on duracrete, the screech of metal - a cacophony of sounds that would hound him for the rest of his days.

He couldn’t think.

Couldn’t do anything.

Tech was gone, he was dead, and he could do nothing to stop it.

He had failed his brothers, and he had failed you.

He wasn’t a leader, and he never would be.

A leader wouldn’t let their family die.

Seconds flew past, maybe hours and you were suddenly with Hunter, Omega, Echo and Wrecker, into the parlour.

The very still, very quiet parlour.

Empty.

Desolate.

Like a literal ghost, you travelled through the Force alongside Hunter, as he knocked on the door to a back room and entered.

Omega was sitting up in the cot inside, hugging Lula to her chest, tears still tracking silently down her bruised cheeks.

Whatever had happened in the latest vision jump had caused her injuries as well, scrapes on her arms too. Something else that ripped guilt through him, and you.

“Tell me this is all a dream, Hunter.” Omega’s voice was so torn, so broken as she looked at Lula’s face, hands squishing her plush body, “Tell me none of this is real and I’ll wake up and everyone will still be here.”

Hunter swallowed, his eyes squeezing shut for a second, pain evident in every line of his body, “I’ve been thinking. Maybe it’s time we stop fighting and… rest.” Even now, the words felt foreign in his mouth, “The time we had on Pabu, it was what we all needed, I think.” He looked down at his hands, hanging loosely between his spread thighs, “We’re going to clear things up officially with Cid, then head there. To stay. Be a.. Be a family.”

Omega’s lower lip trembled again, a sob breaking free and her little body bowed forward over her knees, crushing Lula to her chest, “A family? Half of our family is gone, Hunter.” Her words were almost indistinguishable through her sobs, pain that a child should never feel, even though technically, she was older than them.

But without the accelerated ageing, she was still a child. And despite how well she kept up, she wasn’t a soldier.

Hunter’s face collapsed, his back straightening as he watched her crumble, his own eyes glassy and he whispered, near silently, “I really wish you were here, Ghost.” He shuffled over on the bed, winding an arm around Omega’s shoulders, and then coaxing her into his chest.

You were almost expecting it this time, being going through the Force, but it was only a few metres now.

The main parlour, only an hour later by the looks of the dusty chrono on the wall.

Wrecker looked up from his slumped over position at the bar, their usual table too painful and too full of memories, “She okay?” His voice was devoid of its usual fervour, his usual energy sapped from him.

From your space across the parlour, you could see the anguish etched on his face.

He was the strong one of the team, the literal muscle that always forced their way through any situation where delicacy didn’t work.

He was the one holding the train cart.

He should have been strong enough.

He should have saved Tech.

Hunter shook his head, pausing in the middle of the parlour, at a loss at where to put himself, “No. Not at all.” He sighed, head ducking down to stare at the floor, his hands curling into fists, “I don’t know how to make this right, Wrecker. We were supposed to save Ghost. We were supposed to get Crosshair back. We weren’t supposed to…”

Wrecker turned on his stool, facing Hunter and by theory, you. “This wasn’t your fault, Hunter. This…” He sighed, slumping even more, “It just went wrong.”

Hunter opened his mouth, but he froze, the hairs on the back of his neck standing up again with sluggish warning.

But, yet again, for what seemed to be the hundredth time lately… he was too slow.

The parlour was filled with the unwelcome sound of swift feet marching in, controlled and precise footsteps, the clatter of armour plates against one another.

The doorways were suddenly choked with the imposing presence of the Commando’s, their visors glowing the dim white-blue that was a painful reminder of your sabers.

Wrecker was off his stool in an instant, his rage and pain fuelling him as he leapt for the closest handful despite the brace around his neck.

“Wrecker!!!” Hunter lunged for his brother, yanking his blade free but more Commandos came flooding in, cutting them off from each other.

He too engaged with the closest enemy, delivering a swift blow to the Commando’s arm, causing him to drop his weapon and allowing Hunter to plunge his blade between the armour on his chest and helmet.

Yet again, you were helpless, watching the battered remnants of your family fight for the lives mere hours after they’d been ripped apart looking for you.

You had no idea where Echo had gotten to, or if Omega was okay, pinned helpless in this vision like a butterfly.

Wreckers grunts and growls echoed under the blast of weapons, the crashing of furniture as bodies and blasts flew into it.

But the boys were broken, inside and out.

They were injured.

Their usual deadly precision was tipping closer to a frantic desperation, clawing at escape and defence rather than their unbreakable offensive manoeuvres.

Everything blurred to sound and colour before Wrecker’s roar of agony shattered the cacophony, his body being pulled to the ground by the stinging clash of a dozen stuns, forcing him to his knees whilst restraints were slapped on him.

Hunter’s head whipped toward him, his growl of anguish swallowed as he too was taken down with a vicious punch to the head, leaving him reeling and collapsing to one knee.

“Stop fighting, Sergeant. Or your brother joins the rest of them.” The Commando holding Wrecker jammed a blaster into the side of his head, safety flicked off and finger hovering over the trigger.

But the thing is, Wrecker didn’t even try and fight. At full strength, he could have easily overpowered them… But he just stayed there. Back slumped over, head hanging as low as his brace would allow him. There was no fight left in his body, no spark.

He’d given up.

Hunter snarled at the Commando, fighting against the hands working to pull his arms behind his back, hair falling in his wild eyes, teeth bared.

He was an injured animal on the back foot, desperately trying to protect his broken pack, to tear apart the enemy and hold onto whatever semblance of safety they had left.

You were forced to watch as Hunter was restrained, a hand gripping the back of his head, forcing it down toward the ground. His eyes flickered as another set of footsteps appeared behind you, revulsion written clear on Hunter’s face.

Yet that wasn’t what scared you.

What terrified you the most was what you felt in his signature.

Guilt and pain so potent it nearly choked you, fury that could rival the fires of your own, bitter desperation, but underneath all that?

The faintest trace of hopelessness and fear.

Before you could try and help to no avail, the edges of your vision started to blur and you felt the overarching suffocation of that previous darkness.

The vision was coming to an end, muffling your ears so all you caught were the faint snippets of words.

“A shame about your brothers.”

“-Could do nothing to help them.”

Omega’s scream of fear, so young, so helpless.

“-Broken promises.”

“-found your brother outside.” “-killed him, of course. I have no use for clones who aren’t whole and CT-one-four-oh-nine should have died a long time ago.”

Oh stars, no, Echo. He was… No no no no.

Hunter and Wrecker’s combined roars of anguish.

The hissing spark of them being stunned.

With a scream that echoed in your own mind, you tried to swim back through that oppressive shroud, needing to hear, needing to know -

“-We caught him helping you. Warning you.”

“…such behaviour cannot be condoned, of course. He might have been useful but he was a traitor. First to you, then to the Empire.”

“A waste of a good soldier and sniper, but necessary.”

Crosshair was gone too.

It was too much, too much to bear.

The vision was nearly fading, your family falling apart one by one, and right before your head broke the surface, you heard blaster shots.

Three of them, the impression of their fire like muted lightning in oblivion.

Three shots, for three remaining members of your family.

Then silence.

There was no relief when reality came flooding back by way of the cage.

The agony was too raw, too potent, too fucking suffocating. It wrapped beskar hands around your throat and restricted, it ripped your heart and lungs from your chest.

It tore through you with a pain unlike anything you’d ever felt before. You’d lost your family. You’d lost your friends after the Order, and that almost broke you. But you didn’t see that. You were with the boys. Your boys. Family.

And you just watched them die.

You just watched them die and you weren’t there to save them. You could have. You could have stopped Tech falling. You could have stopped Hunter from losing control for the first time and Wrecker being used as bait. Crosshair wouldn’t be dead trying to protect them and Echo wouldn’t have been shot outside, alone. And Omega…

You were supposed to save each other, that's what you did, you looked after one another and fought anyone who tried to change that.

The hands pulling you from the cage felt simultaneously like fire, burning your skin, your bones, making you want to rip them off yet you also couldn’t feel them.

You couldn’t feel anything except this pain, this agony and fury and rage that you couldn’t save them, building up and up and up.

The pressure in the room filled too, the air becoming charged, zapping and pinging against people's skin but they passed it off as an off-charge from the cage.

Fools.

Their clipped words to put you back in your cell, restrain you until you gained consciousness fell against your body and to the ground uselessly.

Falling.

When do we ever follow orders?

He was right.

Something snapped. That energy, the link to the rest of the world came roaring back to life, almost knocking you back.

With a hoarse scream that was more tortured animal, more tortured beast of vengeance than human, you exploded.

Force-fuelled lightning crackled out from your fingertips, from your feet, your eyes, everywhere. It burst from you like you were the centre of a galaxy-shattering storm, filling the room with its blinding white glow, shorting out the electronics.

The sparking, forked tips found their purchase in the scientists surrounding you, burrowing under armour and helmets to bare skin, to vital organs and frying them from the inside out.

You fell to your knees, fingers scrabbling on the ground as you vowed an unbreakable promise to the galaxy, to the Maker, that you would make every single person suffer, find every single one who’d ever hurt your family, your boys, and you’d rip them to shreds.

Then you’d join your family.

Tears streaked your face in an endless torrent, chest caving open and you were still sparking and exploding like a star, so you were helpless to notice the gas filling the room, the polished boots suddenly inches from your face.

You didn’t even feel the disturbance in the force, the vile poison spreading through the room and making the life energy itself recoil.

“Well, this is just fascinating, isn’t it?”

That voice. That voice saying his words.

That quiet, silken, sick voice that stole along the corridors of this facility, more monster than anything.

Everything was growing hazy and dark, your senses screaming at you that there was something wrong with the air, something tainted and foul but it was lost to the pool of darkness, sinking to the bottom like rocks.

His boot moved to tuck under your chin, forcing your head to lift from the ground and for your tear-filled eyes to meet his unnaturally blue ones, one half of his face in shadow.

Hemlock smirked at you, face full of violent delight even as his workers smouldered and smoked around him, and you snarled at him, ““I had a feeling that would work. Now, let’s get to it, shall we?”

He removed his foot as quickly as he’d lifted your head, causing your chin to smash into the floor and your teeth to sink into your lip.

You couldn’t move, couldn’t breath, couldn’t think.

It was almost a relief to succumb to the gas in the air and drown in the dark again.

Hunter jerked awake, that sense of other pulling him from slumber, telling him to get up, that there was danger.

He lifted his head from the bunk, finding his hand curled around his blade already, yet the Marauder was silent. As always.

They were in the middle of hyperspace, so the chances of danger were few and far between - but you never know.

He swung his legs over the side of the bed, sitting up and he paused for a second, just to listen.

Nothing. Just the sounds of his brother's breathing. And Wrecker’s snoring.

Yet he couldn’t shake it, the ripple down his back, the tightness to his skin.

It was a cold breath along the back of his neck, a flutter in the air around him, something deeper than a gut feeling.

His fingers tapped along the hilt of his blade before he sheathed it, the faint sing of metal providing a small pocket of calm but he was too agitated, too wound up.

Waiting.

Something was inherently wrong, but it was nothing here, nothing he could see or touch. But it was there.

He rose from the bed, moving through the ship on silent footsteps, keen eyes roaming the dark recesses and shadows, checking everywhere even though he knew.

He knew deep down what this was, what had pulled him from his slumber.

As he passed out of the bunk area, his gaze snagged on the fact there was an empty bed - another empty bed.

Hunter moved through to the front of the ship, the glimmering lights of hyperspace casting a cobalt glow over everything, softening the instruments and chairs, the metal hull. He’d often wake up in the middle of the night and find you here, cross legged on the floor, just watching out the windows as the galaxy flew past. Sometimes you were looking for Purrgils, other times you were lost to memories that he didn’t want to break you out of, so he would just sit by you, his foot resting against your leg to let you know he was still here.

Right now though, it wasn’t you seated in the empty cockpit, it was Echo.

He was leaning forward, elbows on his thighs and his head in his hands, apparently lost to memories too. His foot tapped absently on the floor, and it was that agitated movement that told Hunter that he wasn’t the only one who felt this disturbance.

“You felt it too.” Hunter sat down in the pilot’s chair, spinning it round to face Echo, his agitation clear as day and humming in the air.

Echo lifted his eyes to Hunter, then his head, his pale golden eyes shadowed, swallowed up by memories that Hunter couldn’t fix. You were the only one who had that ability, you and Rex alone. “Back when I was an Arc Trooper, with Ghost… She’d have these moments.” He hesitated, as if he didn’t feel right sharing this information. But he wasn’t blind, he saw the connection you had with Hunter, knew that he was probably somewhat aware, “Moments where… where everything built up inside her. She used to say it felt like pressure, like something waiting to snap.”

His eyes were glazed still, moving to stare unseeingly at some point in the corner.

Hunter half mirrored Echo’s position, leaning over, forearms on his thighs and his hands dangling between as he willed his body to be still, despite that humming agitation, “Like she has now?” He refused to talk in the past tense when referring to you.

Echo nodded faintly, his hand curling into a fist and then relaxing, “Being a Jedi Commander, she had to muffle it, learn to not let it control her and to let it go. She would try mediation, but we could see it in her eyes when it was threatening to swallow her.” He barely blinked, entire body rigid, “Rex would try and help her the way he helped General Skywalker sometimes, but it wasn’t enough. Something else was battling her, the rage from losing her family, the fact she never quite fit in…” Now he moved, ducking his head to stare at his scomp with a tense jaw.

Hunter watched his friend, his brother, almost seeing the memories hovering around him, the battle going on in his mind but he stayed quiet, letting Echo take his time and talk. He’d learnt that from Rex. Sometimes being a leader meant knowing when to back off.

His brother sighed softly, brows lowered heavy over his eyes, “I was with her the first time it happened. It was after a hard mission, we lost a lot of men and a couple of Jedi too. That, combined with…” He hesitated, still loyal to his Jedi Commander, even now, “Combined with something.. It triggered her and she just exploded.” He twisted his scomp side to side absently, “It was like being in the middle of an electrical storm. There was lightning everywhere, from her hands, her body… It blew across the field and turned half the rubble to ash almost instantly.”

Hunter sat up a little straighter, because they’d all seen the hints of that force lightning, seen you wield it in the most dire situations.

To him, it was an asset. A weapon you could utilise, something part of you, something… beautiful, actually.

Yet it had been so ingrained into you that force lightning was wrong, it was a mark of the Sith, that you almost always fell victim to guilt, frustration and endless darkness afterwards.

Echo was still talking, “It didn’t hurt me though.. She never hurt me.” He touched a hand to his chest, palm splaying out over it, “But I felt it. I felt a glimmer of her pain in my own chest.” Now he looked at Hunter, his expression one Hunter had never seen before on his brother but he recognised, “And I felt it again tonight. And I know you felt something too.”

He looked at Echo quietly for a second, denial coating his tongue like acid, then he swallowed, his own fists curling up on his thighs, “We don’t know that, we don’t know that there’s something wrong.”

There couldn’t be. Because if they’d both felt it, if Hunter’s senses had felt it from wherever you were… You weren’t just in pain or in danger.

You were in utter turmoil.

Echo opened his mouth to argue, but he was cut off by the scuff of boots, and Tech’s voice, “Neither of you are wrong, Hunter.” He walked into the cockpit, doing a double take at Hunter in his spot. His fingers twitched on his datapad, gloves flexing but he kept walking anyway, pressing a few buttons in the instrument panel, “My scanners picked up a significant disturbance in the force at the same time you both felt something.”

Hunter blinked a few times, looking up at the side of Tech’s head, “You’ve been monitoring the force? How is that even possible?” He paused, “Why didn’t you tell us?” This last question was more a demand, his voice hardening but he couldn’t help it. This was important, something they all should have known.

Tech glanced at him over his shoulder, his own honey eyes unusually hard, as was the tone in his voice, “Rex.” He stated it so bluntly in response to the first question that it left no room for argument, “To answer your second question, you are all aware that I have been monitoring a number of data points to look for Ghost. I did not realise I would need to give you an extensive list.” That bite, the cold tone of his voice told Hunter everything, that they were all dancing on a knife’s edge at what this data meant.

A shrill beeping cut him off mid-sentence, cutting through the air of the ship like a wounded animal.

There were footsteps at the door, and then Wrecker’s voice as he reached up to cover his ears, “Aahh!! Make it stop!!” He glared at Tech’s datapad, the source of the sound. “What is that?!”

Tech frowned for a split second then looked down at the pad, “That would be another alert that I set up to monitor comms chatter.” He tapped a few things, then that frowned returned, “Interesting.”

The tone of Tech’s voice immediately set Hunter on edge even more, something tiptoeing down his spine, waiting. “Tech.” He tried to keep the irritation and impatience out of his voice, because it wasn’t his brother's fault but he knew something was about to happen, and he’d already made Tech snap at him once.

“It appears we have been sent a comms message from the Ojoster sector. A planet called Weyland.” He adjusted his goggles, tapping the screen, “I have begun a decoding program on the message.”

Echo was frowning, looking at Tech but unseeingly, like he was trying to work something out, muttering the name over again.

Hunter cocked his head, leaning further across his chair again, arms crossed over his chest, “Echo? What is it?” He observed his brother carefully, “You know that name, don’t you? That planet?”

He shook his head slightly, “I don’t know. It sounds familiar, maybe, but only in a passing comment. I’m sure…” He trailed off, then lifted his head to look at Hunter, something in his eyes.

There was that feeling again, a whisper in the back of his mind, that voice that taunted Hunter with the knowledge he couldn’t grasp yet. “Tech, any chance you can hurry that message up?” Each second was feeling like an eternity, an anxious energy humming through his body, making him want to pace, to run, shoot something, find you.

Hunter quelled this uncharacteristic franticness, allowing himself a deep, slow breath.

Rex wouldn’t lose his head over this. He would be calm, efficient. He would gather all of the information and then make his plan.

Except, as his eyes drifted to Echo again, he remembered a time when Rex was anything but that steady presence of calm. He was almost wild compared to his usual demeanour, desperate even.

Because he knew something wasn’t right and his brother was hurt.

Just before Hunter thought he might explode out of his skin, Tech straightened, “Here. It’s ready.” He pressed play on the datapad, and Hunter was sure no one missed the way his fingers trembled as they all leant in.

There was a burst of static, an echo, before a voice came over - a droids flat tone, “The storm is coming. I repeat, the storm is coming.”

Nobody moved.

Nobody breathed.

The comms message plinked and then played from the beginning again those words echoing around the ship and their very souls.

That message was a distress code, a code given to you when you were separated. The Batch had a code for themselves, but this was yours.

Except that wasn’t what the issue was.

“Hunter…” Echo was even paler than usual, his golden honey eyes heavy, knowing.

You had never, ever used your distress code. Not even when you were facing down an entire army, not even when your ship was tumbling through space with no engines, no fuel, no brakes.

Not even when you’d been taken from them in an explosion that Hunter still heard in every hour of his waking and sleeping mind.

So it could only mean one thing.

“It’s a trap.” Even Wrecker’s voice had dropped a level, a similar expression of sickness but growing anger, fury even, that you’d been taken in the first place.

Something rose in Hunter’s chest, a roaring beast of rage, terror, guilt, but above all, fierce protection. That heat seeped through his blood, clearing his head and he yanked his helmet back on with a roll of his shoulders, “Of course it’s a trap. Which means Ghost needs our help more than ever.” He rose from the pilot's chair, a sergeant commanding his army, “Tech, change course from Moraband to Weyland. I want the fastest route there, now. Someone contact Rex and see if he can meet us there.” He turned to face the lights of hyperspace, letting out a breath as he finally realised what those senses were screaming at him, and they finally had a course for you.

We’re coming, Ghost.

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the-tomato-patch · 3 months

Text

The Hand that Fated You

"Many know your name. Some whisper it, others shout it. I alone recognize what it means." In which Scourge meets his Jedi for the first time on Quesh.

Pairing:

Jedi Knight x Lord Scourge ( pre-relationship )

Word Count:

2.6k

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/53615758

The jump from hyperspace was smooth as always. Threading the needle, Scourge's mind was already calculating the time it would take him to get from the exit from hyperspace to orbit and then ground. Ahead, he witnessed the noxious pollution of Quesh's atmosphere through the transparisteel viewport of his fury-class interceptor. While this was no longer the barren hellhole it had been before the planet's Hutt and Republic owners ravaged its resources, Quesh was far from pristine or pleasant. In a different world, he would never even consider spending any of his free time on the blighted planet. However, his current path was dictated by a former Darth turned traitor, one Darth Sajar – his mission target.

Passing the moon and continuing on a fast course to the surface, he thought about how he would end Sajar. According to his briefing and everything that Scourge knew about his quarry, the Darth had renounced the ways of the dark side and his seat upon the Dark Council, in favor of becoming a Padawan in the service of the Jedi Order. From that point forward he had apparently done all within his considerable power to remain hidden away from Imperial forces and the Empire as a whole. Except for one report not so long ago, which had piqued the Emperor's interest. His Lord Emperor was not one to allow traitors to make fools out of him and he was even less likely to allow someone like a Dark Council member, former or otherwise, to go against him while actively in possession of a very great deal of the Empire's secrets. It was the ultimate insult and this time Sajar would pay the price.

As the interceptor entered the corrosive atmosphere, one final step had him thinking back. On these final dives his mind would wonder at the galaxy as he had come to see it. If he allowed himself deeper reflection, he would acknowledge that such insight came as both a blessing and a curse; and one which constantly fed his despair of the Sith Order as a whole. How they did not see the flaw within their own order was beyond him. How they could not see the futility of their own struggle as they tore each other down one by one was madness. How they could remain the same as they had been when he was a child over three centuries ago. Their vision seemed limited, no – blind, despite his superior acumen being one of the very reasons for which the Emperor had declared him Wrath.

Entering the murky cloud-layered skies of the industrial world, his ominous scowl seemed more suited for someone that had a blade at their throat rather than the very opposite. Where Darths and Sith were known for their zealous expression of overconfidence, indulgence and excessive lustful tendencies, Scourge's intense and calculating temperament tended to hold them at bay, sometimes even other Sith too timid to think about opposing him. Those that had however had met a swift end at the end of his lightsaber or his fists. Nevertheless, even to the most reckless, confronting him was unwise. Lord Scourge had proven, by slaughtering Darths or Jedi, that any Sith's potential prowess mattered little when matched with his tenacity, precision and brutality.

A brilliant streak sliced its way through the lower atmosphere, with only the faintest shriek to echo its passing in the sky above. A flock of native birds, startled by the abrupt interrution, screeched in fear and scattered in all directions as the Interceptor raced past, on course to its intended destination.

With the same level-headed detachment he wore like armor, his mind continued to linger over a question that haunted him so often in recent times. Even though this would turn out as it always did – with his Lord Emperor's absolute will done and him returning to his side once more like a bloodied dog of war with tail wagging, this time felt different. This assignment, in practice, was no more remarkable than any of the other assassinations he'd done in the past. Not by comparison anyway. Yet felt all the more profound as his senses buzzed with something. Could it be destiny's hand upon his shoulder, dragging him reluctantly and with the barest semblance of consent in its chosen path. Had the Force whispered his name this time?

As he had experienced so many times, there was the smallest voice in the back of his mind urging him to look harder, think deeper, press for a stronger understanding of what the Force had done for him thus far. And yet, each and every time, he could never see what would lie on the horizon until it had already arrived. He could only walk forward and do what he had to do, just as he had from the start. This is just another waypoint. He assured himself, if a bit lamely. This time however, this time he saw, or more felt.. that he was on a precipice. There was the slightest tug, and if he had known anything more he would have recognized it for what it was: the will of the Force. An acknowledgement to the very real steps of the dance he had started on that long-ago day when he had brought Revan and Meetra to the Emperor.

The interceptor banked sharply to the left and a moment later broke through the fog layer, pulling into a steep dive and heading in on its target. It could not have been more obvious that its arrival was unwanted, but given the strength of its arrival – its necessity was absolute. That same small feeling he'd felt before tried to speak up again. Still, the gravity of the mission to him drowned out such tiny murmurs of instinct. In some distant part of his psyche his mental protest felt wrong. Irrelevant to the job ahead, and therefore irrelevant in its entirety. So much so, that in his cold inner cynicism and strength he turned it away, denying the premonition before it even began.

Reinforced landing skids were deployed for a rough and hard touchdown in an area all too remote and unsettled. The dull vibrations from the impact could still be felt even after the ship touched down on its under-wing struts and landed hard on the earth below. Scourge did not delay on disembarking as the door to the starboard cockpit swung open with a faint mechanical hiss and lowered its access ramp. He was already halfway down its length and out onto the polluted soil a moment later. As he took one tentative step down, the dark armor and cloak he donned protected him from the outside elements that were hazardous, despite not wearing the standard protection found with Imperial troops. He'd already taken the precautions against this world, anything more and the Force would be enough.

Even in the early morning light, Quesh had a peculiar hazy tint, as if the cloud-layer permeated its atmosphere into a film that shaded its surroundings. Scourge closed his eyes briefly, extending his mind and brushing over the area. Searching. Probing. Just before he could fully engage however, a small convoy of armored Imperial troopers approached him, coming from around a jagged rocky outcropping in the distance.

They stopped when the distance was approximately two thirds of the way and bowed to Scourge before straightening. "Lord Scourge!" the foremost trooper proclaimed in a formal tone. "You honor us with your presence!"

Scourge glanced coolly at the unit, taking a silent census of the troopers in attendance yet committing none to his memory. He marked off their apparent fitness, battle readiness and determination. They looked like well-seasoned soldiers. His face was a stone, without a trace of expression. That said, he did not have the luxury of time. Whatever was going to happen would have to occur swiftly, otherwise the nature of the situation could change.

"Do not try to flatter me, commander," He stated sternly, not so much as glancing at the rank plaque on the man's right breast, "Take me to the target." He ordered.

"At once, Lord Scourge," The commander motioned for Scourge to follow as they changed direction and continued the way they had originally been moving.

Scourge narrowed his eyes in a severe scowl, causing the troopers to pick up their pace. After following the narrow and circuitous road leading further into the region, they arrived at a wide ridge, at the edge of the last piece of grass covered ground, overlooking the remnants of an old facility of sorts. Rusted metal frameworks that stood erect, while a variety of rotted containers and rickety structures lay sprawling in the midst of it. At the heart of the complex, was an entrance tucked away into the wall. Imperial troops stood guard along its approach.

He stepped down and with his destination now in view, reached out with the Force again. That tiny tug now turning into something much more substantial and unmistakable. Something was coming; he could feel it approaching. That was undeniable. Yet his Lord's orders were his priority, and it had taken priority long ago. That inescapable fact would not have been readily forgotten. So, while he could not escape his feeling – the mission must come first. Pushing past the incessent tug was the draw of Sajar. There was no mistaking the weakness in which he sensed, hidden inside that base below him. And that was all that he needed.

"Here we are Lord Scourge," The commander grunted.

"Proceed." He stated with an underlying tone of disdain. The commander paused for a moment, a bit startled at his abrupt command.

"Well?" Scourge scowled.

The officer spurred to life with a motion towards his men. "Move! Remember your orders." He barked at his men. Scourge watched the exchange for a second as the unit marched off, each man coming to attention as their numbers surged into the base. When the troopers were well away, the Wrath turned back to the scene. For several moments he observed the field of action, feeling the familiarity of death and chaos sowed within the bowels of the base. Eventually his attention drifted toward the entrance, following a flicker of fear emanating from within. He narrowed his eyes, that damned tugging intensifying, making his jaw clench. Ignoring the sensations, the Sith advanced down the rocky incline and at the base, headed directly for the base's maw.

Without warning, Scourge noticed a ray shield snapped on, effectively sealing him out. Instinctually, he reached for his lightsaber, but his hand faltered midway. Time feeling as if it slowed to a crawl.

He recalled his vision of the unknown Jedi that would strike down the Emperor. Their silhouette cutting through the haze of obscurity within his mind's eye, the deep shades of purple and amber all too familiar. Instantly the Force resonated, setting a flare within the depths of his consciousness, pulling insistently upon him. Flashes and images bombarded his brain all at once, jumbled pieces of a larger whole: ancient temples, thunderous rains and lightning, blaster fire, a fleet of warships exploding, and an empty chamber he knew all too well. Then in the next heartbeat, it was gone.

The Sith blinked twice in quick succession. A burning chill like ice crawling up his spine. Conjuring strength he knew was necessary, the moment dissipated and he resumed his pace, yet without brandishing his saber. The image within his mind's eye... his vision was becoming quite real with every footstep made in the direction of the base. Any doubts he'd had dissipated just like the scene had, leaving him with one solid conclusion: this unknown was why he was here. Not Sajar. It had to be.

Beyond the crackling ray shield, he could make out three faces staring back at him. One heavily armored mirialan, a human in weathered field clothes, and a Jedi that shared the silhouette and face of the one in his vision. Her face was stony, determined and focused, watching him with cautious and judging eyes. He saw coldness and distrust emanating from her depths and in her form he could feel a tension coupled with strength and agility. She crossed her arms, defiant in her posture and defensive in her bearing.

Scourge stepped up to the crackling energy barrier and beyond that, the Jedi. He locked eyes with her, wondering if for just a moment if perhaps her eyes really were as orange as they appeared in his vision as he placed his hands behind his back and assumed his typical, looming posture.

"What a mystery the Force can be. I came seeking a traitor, but instead found you. The time draws near." He noted solemnly as her frown only grew more severe.

She paused for a brief instant, staring at him intently before questioning. "You're not making any sense. Do you know me, Sith?"

Of course, he'd had intel. Her profile had been of signifcance to the Emperor ever since the ripples her movements had been making reached his attention. And while to some extent he knew her quite well by reputation alone as the Hero of Tython, he'd never once laid eyes on her, closely anyways. But now that everything seemed to align, he did feel he knew her well. After all, she had been the subject of many of his fixations over the last three centuries. It was not coincidence, of that much he was certain. Yet it still had been three centuries, something akin to doubt worked its way in. Seeing her, this close, a Jedi, the power she had, she was well suited. Was this all truly happening? It cannot be.

"Many know your name. Some whisper it, others shout it. I alone recognize what it means." He could easily sense her prowess in the Force, felt the strength in her and she had talent. Undeniably; raw, explosive, powerful but leashed. And a pureblood too. Of all things. An omen if there ever were one. The strength of the storm raging within her, still so young, nursing a darkness tainted by the light. Almost untainted, but it was still there, within her, lingering. Resonating with her gift with the Dark Side.

"You're strong and touched by darkness. I can sense it. An advantage? Possibly.." his mind mulled the options over carefully as she remained tense, yet listened. Good. He went on, "You may keep the Dark Council traitor. I smell his weakness. He'll die by his own hand, given the chance."

Then her face flickered, her eyes hardening into a fine point as she took his measure, seeming to evaluate him much like he her. After several drawn out moments she questioned him softly, "Why don't you see for yourself who you're up against? The rest will tell itself."

It was the subtle change in tone that tipped him off.

"Arrogant and prideful, like all Sith." Scourge replied in a way that almost sounded... wistful. "Surprising and yet not in so many ways."

Catching the look of befuddlement that overtook her features, he went on. "The Emperor must hear of our meeting. I won't disappoint him with delays. Farewell for now..." And with that he turned, leaving her and her company standing at the ray shield behind.

Scourge could feel their incredulous and dumbfounded stares at his retreating form. He expected nothing less. They did not understand, had not seen what he'd seen, knew not the path laid before him and the Jedi. And after three hundred years of waiting, even he himself had his own share of apprehensions.

Despite that, all felt right. In a way. And so once more in the confines of his interceptor, he set off to report to the Emperor. Ready for whatever would come next.

#oc: rhiasen shedim #lord scourge #swtor #star wars the old republic #swtor fanfiction #fanfiction

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izunias-meme-hole · 10 months

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My Definitive Top 10 Favorite Characters

Number 1. Sauron (Lord of The Rings) - The Original Dark Lord. A fallen being of great power, obsessed with order. The enemy army is his army, Mordor is his kingdom, the Nazgul are his servants, the One Ring is his power source fueled by a fragment of his own soul that tempts and corrupts all who bear it, his eye shines its malevolent gaze upon the world with the intent of ravaging and conquering all that it can see, and the entire story is caused by his machinations. Whenever I look back at Sauron as a villain and character, I end up remembering why he is as infamous as he is. A great villain sometimes can just be a genuinely terrifying presence.

Number 2. Ganon (Legend of Zelda) - Honestly after so many years, Ganon still holds up as a villain. Ganondorf Dragmire was the biproduct of a curse created by Demise to ensure that his hate is reincarnated just so he can destroy Link and Zelda’s descendants, and Ganon himself was born as the only male in a desert that belonged tribe to warrior women known as The Gerudo, eventually ending up as their king thanks to Gerudo traditions. Ganon had a huge presence in Ocarina of Time, manipulating you into locating the Triforce and immediately took over Hyrule during your time skip. In Hyrule Warriors, Wind Waker, Twilight Princess, and A Link To The Past, he adapts in some form either that be because of genuine character development, an ego increase, or a desire for revenge. However in Breath of the Wild, the end of all three timelines, we think that he fully succumbs to Demise’s curse and became a being of pure hate known as Calamity Ganon, who basically almost destroyed Hyrule 100 years ago. Then in Tears of The Kingdom we learn about his first incarnation, the ambitious Gerudo turned Demon King that ravaged ancient Hyrule and got sealed away for generations under Hyrule Castle, who came back to life 5 years after Calamity Ganon was beaten, and tried to turn Hyrule into a hellscape where only the strong can thrive. This exact same incarnation of Ganondorf was also behind Calamity Ganon! Overall, Ganon is a surprisingly versatile and interesting take on a evil king, combining power with intellect, tragedy, anger, class, savagery, inevitability, arrogance, and pure EVIL which is why he’s one of the greatest villains in gaming history and fiction in general.

Number 3. Emperor Palpatine (Star Wars) - Palpatine is easily one of the best villains in cinema, even as Star Wars has gotten to be more of a hotter topic over the years. In the first two movies of the original trilogy he only appears once, is only mentioned as “The Emperor,” and based off what we heard from Vader after he chopped Luke’s hand off, The Emperor sounds like a bigger and scarier dude than Vader. Then Return of The Jedi happens, and we see that he’s just a frail old man, yet he somehow manages to not only have Vader under his thumb, and based off what we see in the climax of the movie, it was primarily based off manipulation and not the force lightning he shoots out of his fingers, which already places him in a scary ass position in comparison to Vader, combined with his command over a literal empire. Then the Prequels and subsequent content expanded upon how he rose to power and how he basically groomed Anakin Skywalker into becoming Darth Vader. He's careful planner and a powerful man with big goals, and the best part of it is that he rarely appears onscreen and lets those under him do his dirty work, yet his presence can be felt 24/7 because he's the one constantly pulling strings within the era of the Republic, within the Empire, and within the First Order, and you can believe it. I am not as much of a Star Wars fan as I used to be, but I will admit that Palpatine has aged well, even as he literally got raised from the dead for the sequels.

Number 4. Sephiroth (Final Fantasy) - Sephiroth is one of the hardest bosses in gaming and a genuine horror villain. He is a tragic monster born from science, and a loyal “son” fo his alien mother, Jenova, but he’s still scary as hell thanks to his god complex, unlimited strength, ethereal vibes, years of experience, his ability to live off of pure spite just so he can make the lives of his enemies (and Cloud) complete hell. His appearance in of itself is creepy due to how beautiful, yet unsettling it is, thanks to his silver hair, green snake-like eyes, and perfect physique which is complimented by a black coat. However the most dangerous things about him are that he’s completely delusional, his strength is unmatched, and just how far he’s willing to go to distort other peoples sense reality, specifically Cloud’s sense of reality. Sephiroth a tragic character and a phenomenal villain.

Number 5. The Golden Witch, BEATRICE (When They Cry) - Good god this lady is great. A scary, tragic, and fun witch who narratively serves as the scapegoat that hides a more horrific truth.

Number 6. The Joker (Batman: The Animated Series) - The Joker is one the greatest arch-foes fiction because of how well he compliments his heroic adversary. Batman is a dark, brooding, frightening figure with a semi-demonic visage, yet he is a hero dedicated to the cause of justice and protecting the innocent citizens of Gotham City. The Joker is a bright, colorful, exuberant and funny clown, something that's supposed to bring joy and laughter to others, yet he is a nihilistic, psychopathic criminal whose only goal in life is to spread death, destruction and chaos through Gotham City because that's what brings him joy and laughter. B:TAS understood the assignment and provided the definitive iteration of The Joker, completely inspired by his early comic appearances and some elements from Jack Nicholson's take on the character. An ex-mafioso turned Clown Prince of Crime that lives to only spread misery across Gotham in the most creative way possible with a smile on his face. That was the idea that Paul Dini and Bruce Timm ran with when conceptualizing this bastard, and they just explored the concept for all its worth. Not only that, but this was the first time that Mark Hamill ever voiced this bastard, and it was just perfect casting. Overall, I can easily say that without a doubt, this is the best Joker.

Number 7. Bowser (Super Mario Bros) -Bowser is a genuinely great villain who is both versatile and fun as hell. Sure, there are a crapton of underrated villains in the Mario series, but no matter what you cannot really hate this guy. He’s a giant fire breathing turtle-dragon who’s a evil king, but he’s also a meathead, arrogant as hell, has very cool boss fights, is a surprisingly good father to his kids, an amazing protagonist and ally, as shown in games like the Paper Mario Series, and Mario & Luigi Series, occasionally scary as shit, not to mention he’s one of the more likable villains in gaming. Also let's not forget how terrifying he is in Mario Party with his friendship destroying mini games and mechanics. So yeah, Bowser’s a cool character and fun villain. He’s also my Smash Bros main.

Number 8. Xemnas (Kingdom Hearts) -This guy is to this day one of the best Disney villains ever. Xemnas is the nobody of the Seeker of Darkness, Ansem, his husk given sentience, an entity that can feels nothing and wasn’t meant to exist, yet he’s quite the specimen and one of the most consistent character in the series. He’s a very sinister figure due to his nature, the fact that he’s a special nobody like Roxas, his inability to feel emotion, and his belief that negative emotions are what give the heart power, but at the same time you somehow manage to feel pity for him because of these things. While what he does is his own choice, you can clearly see that while he’s a different entity from his human self, he still chooses to go in that hollow shadow because it’s in his own nature, and it ended up being his downfall. That and his boss was truly a test of your skills. TL;DR: Xemnas is amazing.

Number 9. Slave Knight Gael (Dark Souls) - An old slave knight from the age of fire, literal cannon fodder, not only outlives the gods, but goes on a quest to get the Dark Soul so that The Painter, his niece, would paint a new world. You get familiar with him in the Ashes of Ariandel DLC, and by the time of the Ringed City DLC you see that Gael has slipped into madness and stands atop literal desolation. At first he fights on all 3's, only using his sword as a weapon as he jumps and crawls around, but after his guts are cut open and he gets the power of the dark soul, he truly begins fighting like a man and will occasionally rely on the newfound power he has to strike the Ashen One down with magic. Still at the end of the day... this fight is just between two nobodies who outlived the gods.

Number 10. Cell (Dragon Ball) - Cell is a Perfect villain. He’s got the traits of 3 main villains (Piccolo, Vegeta, & Frieza), along with some Goku elements in the mix, and it makes sense when you remember that he’s an android with the cells of the universes strongest fighters. Also he’s got the ability to absorb people, can perfectly copy techniques that would take years to learn, has quite the suave and charming personality in his perfect form, is extremely funny and snarky sometimes, is terrifying a lot of the time, and overall Cell was designed to be the endgame villain of Z, before Toriyama was asked to write the Buu Saga. Not only that, but he's got a surprising amount of psychological depth too for what is basically a pure evil killer bio-android made from the Cells of many different warriors, which makes him a full reflection and deconstruction of how Toriyama wrote his previous villains. In short, Cell WAS the final boss of the main campaign of the series until the Buu Saga and the continuous milking of the series. In short, Cell was, and still is, the PERFECT Dragon Ball villain from start to finish in terms of concept and execution.

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shabre-legacy · 1 year

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Fifteen's very first memory

"See? A perfect example. Completely functional." The words reach Fifteen before the unending darkness lifts and she finds herself in a dimly lit room. She sits on a bed of some kind staring straight ahead. Her body aches, but she doesn't know if it's supposed to do that or not. She registers the pain only slightly before it vanishes into the background of her mind. If she hurts then that must just be how she exists. What is she? What are these strange hands in front of her? She knows they are hands, and they are hers, but not how she knows that.

In front of her stands a team of men. Two wear white coats and hold things she doesn't know. They stand to her sides, near a group of machines and IV's of things she couldn't begin to recall. Most of the others wear dark robes and are surrounded by a cold chill in the air. There are five men in front of her. The others seem to show deference to them. The one in the middle staring at her with crossed arms is taller and broader than the rest. His shoulders covered by something with spikes and his face entirely covered. On one side of him stand two men with helmets, one shows his face, one only his eyes. They seem human though. The other side had one who looked human and one of a species she didn't know, red skin and odd bits to his face. She didn't know what human was but she knew when she saw them. How did she know that? Who was she even? What is the place she was in? There is a pit of terror in her stomach that only grows larger as she stares.

One of the men in robes steps forward. "My lords, while she is a success of these experiments. The processes involved tend to leave not only no memory of previous life, but no memory at all. The subject will need to be taught things as basic survival memory returns.

The man turns to her. "These are doctors." He gestures to the men wearing robes. "We are Sith. The empire is ours and following orders of the Sith is required." He turns to gesture to the five men. "These are Darths of the Dark Council." He gestures at each in turn. "Darth Decimus, Darth Acharon, Darth Marr, Darth Vowrawn and Darth Ravage. They are your masters, your everything. You exist only to serve their will and worship at their feet in complete loyalty and obedience. When you greet them, you kneel. When you address them, you speak only when necessary or when spoken to. You keep things short and only address them as my Lord." She nods only to have him gesture at her. She remains still, she doesn't know what he wants. He grabs her and shoves her to the floor. Oh, she's supposed to kneel. He wanted her to kneel to these Darths, these beings of power who she existed for. If she knew why she existed.

She catches herself and kneels quickly. Her voice cracks with pain and confusion and disuse. "My lords." There's a sense of satisfaction in the air.

The deep voice seems to come from the man in the middle, Darth Marr if she remembers correctly. "You are Agent Fifteen, you are the Eye of the Sith and will be our eyes and ears inside Imperial Intelligence." The next words do not seem directed at her. "She is acceptable. See to it that she is trained and prepared thoroughly but quickly. Start immediately." The men behind and beside her bow deeply as the five men sweep out of the room, already discussing things amongst themselves.

There is a pinch on her neck and the unending blackness begins to creep in again. No. She cannot go back. She just left it. She only just discovered who she is. She is a servant of the Sith. Agent Fifteen. She cannot go back now. But she cannot outrun it and the darkness closes in.

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swtorpadawan · 9 months

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After taking a peak at your NPC notes that reminded me about this unknown NPC. Esorr Kayin, apprentice to a Dark Council member who Alif caught murdering an apprentice. There’s literally nothing we know about him and yet I’ve always been curious on what his story is. Do you have any headcanons for him?

Good question!

I headcanon that Esorr Kayin was the apprentice to Darth Ravage. (Ravage seems like the type who would recruit an apprentice arrogant enough to try killing another apprentice on the academy grounds.)

The dead apprentice's master - Lord Necus - soon arranged an "accident" for Esorr.

Naturally, this enraged Ravage. Unable to strike at Necus directly, he eventually took out his anger on Alif. (Poor guy couldn't catch a break.)

Thanks for the ask!

#swtorpadawan asks #esorr kayin #darth ravage #lord necus #alif

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serenofroses · 11 months

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prompt: post wedding ceremony.

otp: cipher nine (f!oc) x Darth Marr.

setting: IA chapter 1 epilogue. sets a month after A New Epoch of Fear arc and couple of months before the Unmasked Trust snippet.

A/N: hearing impaired oc, miraluka-sith hybrid oc, canon divergence, wlw pairing, transfem zabrak Darth Marr, arranged marriage with slow burn theme, pregnancy mentions.

edited from original version and transferred onto this blog.

Marr offered a suggestion to Ania for a stroll through the Ziosti courtyard surrounded by vibrant floral hedges and sculptures, filled with nothing but faint noises echoing from the main mansion. Kritanta had left the newlyweds alone and set off to rescue Vowrawn from Ravage who was loudly talking his ears off the entire evening.

Ania accepted it and joined Marr on a walk under the night sky to enjoy some moment of peace and quiet away from the guests. At first, she suspected the Sith Warlord wanted to get away before anyone start to vie for their attention, but the quietness had made her realise they're putting her boundaries first after the two worked together to stop the Eagle's network as Marr had grown accustomed to her hearing impairment.

It is the littlest thing she comes to appreciate Marr for understanding her needs.

The two of them became familiar with the others for the past couple of months since. Communication was tricky to handle with Marr wearing a mask that hides their face, though they managed to make it work through verbally and nonverbally with signing inbetween. Ania didn't minded the silence knowing for some time that Marr wasn't a social person for the most part thatn they originally seemed.

Truthfully, it was nice to take a breather from talking constantly after a long day and Ania enjoyed the presence of Marr's company without the need to socialise or prevent the conversation from going dry.

The two of them were walking side by side through the garden further away from the building, Ania felt the essence of the Force coaxed around her, it hadn't startled her out of the blue, she sensed this from the Warlord next to her and spoke nothing of this. As a Force-Blind child with highly enhanced senses, she was no strange to the Force given her family ties. The essence wasn't as tainted as Jadus', it was different and oddly soothing in a way she couldn't describe the newfound feeling to how it pushed her anxiety at bay.

After three years she spent with Jadus, she remained on guard to shield her mind on the safe side, but something was advising her to allow this Sith Warlord in for unknown reason.

Trust them, it tells her back within the Dark Temple, coming face to face with Marr after they saved her from a Shith Ghost possessing the dissident, They are your destiny.

Something clicked between them that night.

And she did slowly but surely after Nar Shadda when Marr defended and protected her. She doesn't have an explanation for the lingering look that they shared while working together, focusing their efforts to end the Eagle's terror cells and the Eradicators.

Marr was unlike any other Sith Lords she came across. Much like her parents, they showed no desire for power plays and infighting, they were different and stotically calmer than she predicted upon first impression, lest her curiousity wandered to figure out their characteristic.

"Are you feeling alright?"

Ania snapped out of her daze and turned to face the masked Sith while carefully avoiding tripping over on her wedding dress. She realised Marr was checking on her as the Force engulfed to soothe her nerves.

"Not too overwhelmed?" They asked again.

"I'm fine, thank you." Ania spoke with an acknowledged nod to let them know she was fine but lost in her own thoughts and glanced at the ring on her finger.

Marr noticed the distracted look, "Something's on your mind?"

Ania understood why they took her away to a quiet spot to be alone without unnecessary interruptions.

"I... well," Ania trailed off briefly, "I can't believe this is actually happening," she admitted, It felt like time had gone too fast for her to comprehrend, "That we're married. I mean, it wasn't that long ago I became Cipher Nine with you oversaw my assignments..."

"I know what you mean. The feeling's mutual." Marr hummed in argeement despite they had declined many suitors in the past, "Any regrets?"

"None." Ania shook her in response with a warm smile, "Still, thank you."

"The honour's all mines, Anastasia." Marr ceased their steps and turned to face the agent, "There's a matter I need to talk to you about-"

Had she angered them by interrupting? Was it wrong of her to cut Darth Marr off? This was the renowned Imperial's War Hero of all people and she went to interrupted them. Her time with Jadus hadn't been pleasant to reflect on but she knew better than to speak.

"Call me Ania, please." then the Agent paused realising she had spoke up and interrupted them, her expression turned soured and mentally cursing herself, "...Fuck."

She saw Marr tilted their head at her.

"I... I apologise, my lord. It wasn't my intention to interrupt you."

Marr raised their hand up as Ania ceased her stammer, "We both known each other for quite some time. You mustn't apologise, Ania."

"I know but still..."

Marr stepped closer to Ania and took her hands into their own, their their gloved fingers ran over her knuckles to soothe her nerves.

"I am not Jadus--what they did to you was unforgiveable. You do not need to worry about being disrespectful to me." Marr reminded her, "You are my wife and I would prefer that you speak your mind to me."

Ania heaved a small sigh of relief, "Of course, Lord Marr."

There was a sound coming from the Sith. Ania blinked--she could've sworn she heard them chuckled. It was hard to tell from their low voice, or to read their expression if it wasn't for the mask hid their face.

"Just Marr will do." They corrected her after a pause.

"Oh. Right." Ania laughed awkwardly, "I'll try and remember that when we're not on duty."

Marr still held her hands, idling tracing their finger along the henna hand tattoo and a thumb rolling over the engraved crystal on the ring.

"That being said,"--they spoke clearly for the agent to understand to push aside the awkwardness behind, "I want you to know while I still maintain my role within the Empire regardless of the Dark Council reform, I will always be there for you whenever you require of me."

Ania felt butterflies chruning within her stomach, "But, isn't protecting the Empire's best interests your top priority?"

Was until you came along into my life like the vision foretold, Marr thought quietly.

"Yes, but I gave my word to our wedding vows that I will keep you safe and protect you from all harm." they told her, "That I can promise. And..."

Marr paused in their speech. Ania watched them for a second until she followed the way their masked face gazed downward and moved one hand from hers to rest against her stomach lightly.

Ania didn't flinch from the touch.

"...I will also protect the little one, too." they continued, "Rest assured, I will help you raise our child together."

The last couple of weeks had been a rollercoaster for Ania. She was still processing the news of her shock pregnancy--a hidden one that was caught earlier--that was concluded since Nar Shadda when she fell ill from the serum side effects that Watcher X injected her with.

At first, she was in denial when Marr delivered the result and confirmed the news but reality sunk in quickly seeing the result presented to her, knowing it was too good to be true. She threw herself to continue the mission as normally to distract herself.

"Thank you."--she placed one hand over Marr's--"It means a lot to me and to her."

"Her?"

"Mm, I'm expecting a little girl." Ania nodded, confirming her own news after she had a scheduled ultrasound checkup before the wedding, "Papa reckoned she'll be a mini me. I've no doubt she'll be wrapping both of her grandparents around her little finger when the time comes."

"That remains to be seen." Marr was amused by the thought, especially to one imagination of Vowrawn struggling to say no to the young child, "Though, I suppose you have a name for her?"

"I'll be honest, Marr." Ania looked away rather shyly, "I haven't had a chance to think about a name... We barely got the nursery room set up and ready but I was preoccupied by the wedding."

Oh.

Shit, she hasn't really thought that far along to plan and prepare for. It was all happening to quickly for her to take a breather, stop and think about the future.

Marr hummed thoughtfully.

"Would you object to me having a say in this?" Marr proposed, "I may offer a suggestion--one that you may like."

Ania was intrigued by the suggestion, "Go on?"

"How do you feel about the name Naomi?"

"Naomi." Ania repeated the name to doube check she's hearing it right then she smiled, "I love it."

#swtor #seren swtor writings #oc: ania nevrakis #darth marr #cipher nine x darth marr #ch: darth marr #serenscarlett edits #otp ania x darth marr

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