Well, he already thinks I talk behind his back...

That went better than expected.

Tue, 11 Dec 2012 14:32:10 -0500

I decided to decorate my Master’s ship for all of that Life Day nonsense.

It’s put him on edge. I suspect he figures it’s a prelude to something lethal or violent.

That, of course, means that I’ve done it right.

I can’t believe he never changed the access codes. I also can’t believe he sits there and listens to me talk about synthweaving for hours; it’s boring, and I’m eventually going to run out of even made up little tidbits to mention.

Admittedly, I’m rather surprised I haven’t been shocked or told to leave yet. Stars, I wonder if he thinks I’m serious—oh well, if it keeps him thinking I’m a nice looking, harmless, docile servant, all the better.

Minor details.

Mon, 05 Nov 2012 16:38:02 -0500

I was quietly (that being at my own request) given the title of Darth some weeks back.

I do not like to brag, and certainly have no intentions of putting on a big production about it, but it is somewhat nice to not have to take any idiocy from—well, nearly anyone now.

While I do know that it shouldn’t bother me as much as it does, I dislike people insisting that Rutian Twi’lek are any shade of blue. Rutian encompasses very specific shades of blue, as anyone involved in the slave trade (or who has been a slave) would be well aware.

Rutian denotes any Twi’lek with a skin color in shades ranging from dark blue and aquamarine to teal and turquoise; notice that the latter three do contain some measure of green undertones. The more green, while still appearing blue, the more expensive. Of course, all of those shades are pricier than a ‘normal’ Twi’lek, and cheaper than Lethan, but lately there has been an influx of either unscrupulous slavers, unwitting buyers, or deluded former slaves that believe that that ghastly pale, common bluish color is somehow “Rutian”.

I find it rather insulting. While I am not the rarest shades of blue, I am a rather nice, dark, even blue and, thus, Rutian.

I can see how a slaver could make a quick few extra credits by pulling one over on an unsuspecting or uneducated buyer and, frankly, it would serve them right to be taken for a ride if they couldn’t bother to research first.

Regardless, I do see it as a bit of a—flaw—of mine that hearing that sort of minor misinformation bothers me, and that it bothers me as a matter of semantics, not because it’s discussing my own people as property.

Ah well, we can’t all be perfect, can we?

Uppity Little Twi'lek.

Thu, 01 Nov 2012 13:09:00 -0400

I met one of Lord Ixor’semo’s friends a couple of nights back.

Uncultured, tattooed, loud, probably uneducated Lethan man.

What a shame he ruined his looks with those gaudy, uneven looking tattoos; you’d think someone with such a desirable skin pigment would be less prone to wanting to mar it with drawings. Perhaps he believes it will make him less desirable to slavers, or perhaps he’s little more than a child with a marker and a blank wall.

The man was friendly enough, of course, despite only introducing himself as Kaz, but so—low class.

On the positive side, he wasn’t a drunk, doesn’t appear to be a regular spice user and, despite his lack of social refinement, does appear to have his head screwed on straight. I do wish those hunter types would realize that they are allowed to wear things that don’t have gas cylinders, small engines, and dirty metal bits attached to various parts, however.

Division comm chatter has been more quiet than usual as of late which, given the recent circumstances surrounding Darth Arannek, is not surprising; I would imagine that Achai is busy scraping up the remnants and reassigning the few Agents of Arannek’s that remain to tasks that are likely less horrible in nature.
As for my Master’s behavior, it’s hardly changed. He comes and goes as usual, we have tea, he talks at me (and occasionally does ask my opinion on something, usually related to his ghastly clothing), and I have been aiding him in going through a backlog of datacrons and the occasional holocron.

Interesting enough work, I suppose.

Fancy that.

Fri, 28 Sep 2012 14:34:20 -0400

Augmentation kits seem to have made me rather wealthy, not to mention selling a near closet-fully of gaudy, ugly violet robes.

It’s almost a pity that I’ve got nothing to spend it on. Now that I’ve said, that, of course, I’d be willing to bet that the hyperdrive on my ship blows out or something else equally expensive falls into my lap in the form of an invoice.

Somewhat tempting to see if I can convince Bi’ev to sell me a Darth title.

Silly thought, that. He’d either find it amusing or insulting, and I don’t know that I’m willing to place a bet on amusing.

Somewhat unexpected.

Mon, 17 Sep 2012 12:15:24 -0400

I seem to have a female admirer of sorts.

She’s rather intimidating; large Pureblood woman.

Evidently, I’m enough of a gentleman and reasonably decent looking. I can’t argue with that, though I just consider the former basic social skills.

She had asked to catch up, as we hadn’t spoken in some time. We ended up at the Nexus Room cantina, and ran into a few people we both knew, most notably Agent Worms. She introduced us to another agent, Caspira, I believe. Obisen stopped by later, though we rarely talk. He seems to be a bit—odd around me, as if I somehow make him uncomfortable.

A few others came and went, though I can’t recall who.

After several hours of conversation, and my being rather oblivious to the silence and blushing (Honestly, how DO you tell if a red skinned alien is blushing if they also have red blood?) she mentioned that she was quite taken with me, couldn’t believe I was single, and found herself highly confused as she did not typically find herself attracted to men.

Let alone alien men.

Rather flattering, really, though she seems the sort that might be able to crush skulls with her thighs. If nothing else, she is decent conversation on a friendly level and doesn’t refer to me as ‘alien’.

Benefits of being the "quiet one".

Fri, 31 Aug 2012 11:12:12 -0400

In one sense, I could say I’ve picked it up from my Master, but that would be just a bit of a lie.

Quiet observer has always been where I end up, it’s how I grew up, how I got through the Academy, and how I function as a Sith.

I am always simply there, and usually unnoticed or discounted.

Even that woman who is continually sniffing around my Master’s agent hasn’t seemed to notice when I’m present; that’s actually a bit of a blessing, considering how utterly unpleasant she is.

Watching things unfold within the Division has been interesting; most of them are more than willing to speak freely when I’m around as they’re usually unaware of it.

Hm.

Mon, 13 Aug 2012 12:07:48 -0400

Lord Setekh asked me if I knew my Master well.

He followed that up with, “I’m curious, should there be trouble between some under Darth Arannek…your Master strikes me as the type to stay out of it mostly, yes?”

This doesn’t bode well.

Time to fall back into the background and watch.

In the past week, via my Master, I have learned the following things: Imperial Intelligence is...

Wed, 08 Aug 2012 10:50:00 -0400

In the past week, via my Master, I have learned the following things:

Imperial Intelligence is staffed by idiots who can’t do anything without someone cracking a whip.
Etisacaar should, by all rights, be executed.
But he’d rather extend the man’s misery by forcing him to go through the trials on Korriban again.
…and maybe keep him there or on a tight leash afterward.
Ayel is a fat, lying, pain in the neck who needs to stop acting like a blubbering, pun intended, lovesick teenager and come to terms with the fact that Etisacaar doesn’t give a damn about him as anything more than a ‘sure thing’.
If Ayel would do that, he might have some hope of succeeding as a Sith instead of just ending up another sort of slave to a human.
This is why he dislikes his apprentices forming emotional attachments, and will concede that perhaps the Jedi have that aspect of training correct. I can’t say I disagree, especially after watching Ayel and Etisacaar flail around like idiots.
If Intelligence thought they were going to do anyone a favor by promoting Kindrak to Cipher, they can’t be all that intelligent.
His favorite pair of socks has a hole.
My robes are hideous, which is something I already knew. Gaudy, awful things.
I should speak more, despite having very little to say to him and him not letting me get a word in edgewise anyway.
His ship droid lost fingers somehow. He blames Esk for that.
Arannek dented a wall with Esk’s “stupid, fat, Rattataki” head.
Aside from being Twi’lek, Gida’tar is a model apprentice to the point that her being Twi’lek could possibly be overlooked.
I’m much more tolerable now that I properly use lightning.
He can’t keep all the Agents straight anymore; found the retort of, “So few of them are anyway.” amusing.
His tea has gone cold, and he’ll be back in a few minutes with a fresh cup. I’d go with him but, in all honesty, I plan to enjoy three to five minutes of silence.

I did remember to wish him a happy birthday, though his reply was along the lines of me only being pleased he was one year closer to the grave.

It’s not entirely incorrect, so I did not argue.

The only benefit of my Master using me as a sounding board for complaints is that I know just about...

Mon, 30 Jul 2012 14:48:26 -0400

The only benefit of my Master using me as a sounding board for complaints is that I know just about as much about what’s going on in his life and the lives of those around him as he does.

It’s starting to make me feel like the normal apprentice—though I have been a Lord now for some time.

I don’t know what he’s going to do with that supposed Jedi he had that Agent drag in. I can’t imagine he thinks he’s going to turn it; knowing him he’ll just keep it as a personal torment battery until it starts to get boring.

On the other hand, it wasn’t an exceptionally skilled Jedi if all it was doing was empire building on Nar Shaddaa.

Hopefully, I don’t have to deal with it; I dislike dealing with his cast offs and side projects. Most of them are dreadful, dreadful people, even by Sith standards.

That aside, I’ve got to do something about my robes. I found the most horrid looking things I could just to see if anyone, particularly strangers, would bother pointing out to a Sith Lord that he was dressed like a colorblind madman.

As it stands, only people I know have mentioned it. I thought Obisen was going to cry over how gaudy my robes are.

I am not, perhaps, the most outwardly stereotypical of Sith. I’m slow to anger, much to my...

Sun, 15 Jul 2012 13:13:26 -0400

I am not, perhaps, the most outwardly stereotypical of Sith. I’m slow to anger, much to my Master’s dismay. I rarely raise my voice unless it’s necessary to actually be heard. I tend to be quiet, sociable, and generally friendly.
That suits me just fine, most Sith that I’ve met saunter about coming off as idiots anyway, using nothing more than the—it’s not even mystique, just word association—that goes along with someone saying the word Sith.

Many appear to be little more than spoiled brats with a nice weapon.

Yes, yes, galaxy pardon me if I’ve better things to do with my time than swagger around a cantina (or worse, Vaiken Station) asking others if they’d like to see my lightsaber, dance on tables as though I were some spiced up idiot with the most banal idea of fun, or give me free drinks or “suffer the consequences”.

Thankfully, most of those with whom I associate share the same disdain for what amounts to common galaxy trash.

That said, I will never understand why some people think it’s necessarily a good idea to get mouthy with Sith, especially older, obviously more powerful Sith. That’s just flat out stupidity, whether the one talking back is Sith or not.

One of my Master’s other apprentices seems to have had an issue with running his mouth the past couple of weeks; he’s quite lucky his Master doesn’t have the same temper as Darth Arannek. They work together. Loosely. And side by side with Arannek, Bi’ev comes off as calm, rational, and somewhat forgiving, which says quite a bit.

Etisacaar, I was certain, was angling for Arannek to kill him yesterday. Maybe he was. I know he was in a bit of a state.
I tried to get him to shut up—Etisacaar, that is—before Arannek changed his mind to bypass Bi’ev and deal with him directly, and it only resulted in one of Arannek’s apprentices telling me that it was a waste of time to try and ‘defend’ Etisacaar. Doing so would only add me to the list of things to obliterate, evidently.

Being that I am not an idiot and do actually store some brain matter in my lekku, I told Darth Arannek that I would go and find my Master for him, since I typically know his patterns and where he is when on comm silence.

I’ve no idea what happened, but my Master is still alive and Etisacaar is still alive. I suspect Arannek is still livid, though. In fact, I doubt it’s even over Etisacaar’s somewhat embarrassing public behavior at this point. It may just be over the fact that Etisacaar was so openly—not even defiant, just the fact that he had the nerve to talk back and argue instead of knowing when to simply say, “Understood. It won’t happen again, my Lord.”

I’d be lying if I said I wouldn’t love to know how Bi’ev talked his and Etisacaar’s way out of the brunt of Arannek’s temper, but I’m not dumb enough to risk my own Master’s temper by asking.

Nothing to report, really. That Jedi woman has been impossible to contact lately; I’ve...

Tue, 26 Jun 2012 16:03:24 -0400

Nothing to report, really.

That Jedi woman has been impossible to contact lately; I’ve assigned Tholgeth’s pet Agent to duck undercover and try to sniff her out, not that I see anything happening with that any time soon.

He’s gone all starry-eyed over Tholgeth and, apparently, over Tholgeth’s crude little Twi’lek apprentice.

Could be that she’s dead, the Jedi. That would be—disappointing, but there are others I could target for a bit of amusement.

I met with Geviana. Had to take an awful little borrowed ship; wouldn’t do to show up in the...

Mon, 11 Jun 2012 11:01:05 -0400

I met with Geviana.

Had to take an awful little borrowed ship; wouldn’t do to show up in the well maintained Interceptor that I have.

I drew on behaviors and mannerisms that were useful during my time as a slave to avoid the wrath of whoever was in charge at the moment. She seems to have bought it.

The meeting itself was uneventful and short; she gave me a comm unit to keep in touch.

I’ve picked up an Agent to find out more about this idiot Jedi; I want to know everything, her weakenesses, her strengths, her fears, her goals—I intend to exploit every single one of them.

The Agent is one I’ve met before. He seems to have a thing for Tholgeth. That, I will never understand. Tholgeth is little more than a thug; oh, of course, on occasion the rusty, cobweb filled gears in his head squeak and turn slightly, but for the most part, he’s little more than a meat shield. Perhaps the Agent is in to big, dumb, meat shields. I don’t think I could concieve of lowering myself to someone like Tholgeth, Darth or not.

On some level, I feel a bit bad for Tholgeth. All he seems to attract are waifish, effeminate men and, at that point, he might as well just go for women.

I’d rather not dwell on that.

The Agent took a look at the comm unit and it appeared to blow out a few of his own implants. Hm. If Geviana noticed anything amiss, I’ll simply tell her that it was found by Imperial Customs and confiscated temporarily.

Act I

Fri, 08 Jun 2012 14:10:27 -0400

(( This is the beginning of a plot arc that I’m involved in; part of which includes Taz’hezyst messes with a Jedi’s head just because he can via “wanting to defect”. Gevi likes to torture her characters, apparently.))

The asteroid was barren, like most asteroids were ought to be, minus a rather gaudy-green painted defender-class corvette that sat near a crafter in the surface.

In the ship, the Jedi Knight Geviana paced around the flight deck, hands on her lightsabers. She kept looking out the window, waiting for signs of this Sith she was supposed to meet, or a fleet, if this was all a ruse. Thankfully the ship was fast enough to get out if anything were to happen, at least, she hoped.

“No signs of anything yet, Elthree,” The Jedi said to the Astromech at her side, who was painted the same green as the ship, “Keep running those scans, report any com signals you may pick up, okay?” The droid beeped an affirmative as Gevi looked at her datapad.

“He should have been here by now. Either he’s being strung up by some Sith and getting lightning down his throat or this is a trap.”

An asteroid. He should have figured, why would she make this easier and just meet on Corellia, after all? And this ship! This ship he’d borrowed for the ‘secret’ meeting was enough to keep his mood rather dour. Small, dingy, sluggish controls—at least it played its part well. It wouldn’t do at all to show up as a supposed refugee in a late model, well maintained Fury class Interceptor, after all.

Taz’hezyst scowled at his own reflection.

He turned on heel, leaving what passed for quarters and returning to the bridge. That stupid woman would likely still be waiting for him, despite the fact that he was late.

“Might as well throw her a bone.”

A long, clawed, blue finger lazily ran over a few random communication switches, bringing them back online. No need to send a message that would mean anything if intercepted, and it wasn’t as though he was currently in Imperial or Republic space, but the channels were, if nothing else, open again.

The ship itself touched down moments later in a manner that would either suggest a pilot who was hopelessly inept or in a massive, panicked hurry. Prior to exiting the ship, the Twi’lek made certain to remove many of the trappings on his robes, leaving them a plain, dull mix of muted violet and black. Taz’hezyst wasn’t stupid enough to leave his lightsaber behind, but he had taken some care to add a hidden pocket for it in his right robe sleeve. He took some amount of care to slouch a bit, drain the confidence from his steps, and scurried off of the ship, darting glances behind him, up into open space, and finally over to Geviana’s ship.

Recognizing the gaudy thing as a fairly standard Republic vessel, he made his way toward it.

Geviana had found herself distracted in something on her datapad when the droid beeped loudly and curiously, nudging her knee as he did so. She looked up to see the ship, the dingy little thing the Twi’lek had come in and winced. A Corellian knew a good ship when she saw one and this thing was barely fit to fly as bait.

“Well, Elthree, looks like this is it. Keep the Flame running, okay and keep scanning for com signals. If there is any chatter on Imp channels, you let me know.” The Jedi hopped over the railing that separated the bridge and the stairs leading to the exit, using the Force to pull a few pieces of metal into her hand as she did so.

She looked at the pile of cybernetics in her hand and put them on quickly, wincing as the electronics connected to her flesh and brainwaves. She placed the eyepatch on her left eye and hit a button on the side, letting the screen power up. “Everything okay, Elthree?” The droid flashed an answer on the screen and Gevi opened the hatch, stepping down the runway and standing at the edge, waiting for the Sith to come closer. Her hands twitched over the sabers on her side, but she quickly moved her hands to clasp at the small of her back.

Taz’hezyst inched closer, keep his head low, stopping occasionally to glance behind him. He stopped a short distance in front of Gevi and appeared to be paying more attention to the ramp leading up to her ship than to her.

“Apologies,” the word came out as little more than a squeak, and Taz’hezyst cleared his throat, “Apologies for that as well. It’s—more difficult to get out of Imperial space than one might think. Intelligence doesn’t watch me, but my Master certainly keeps a short leash.”

Reaching back, he pulled one of his lekku forward, absently twisting it between his fingers, “I didn’t—I half expected to see him come out of the ship, you know.”

Every little noise, perceived or actually present, seemed to cause the Sith to jump, “Are you—you’re not, I mean, there aren’t Sith hiding on your ship or anything, correct?”

Geviana blinked a few times at the sniveling Sith before her, quirking an eyebrow. She studied him over for a few seconds, placing her hands on her hips, fingers brushing the hilt of her sabers. She could end this Sith here and now, rid the galaxy of one more monster, but he was timid, weak. Nothing like a Sith would be. It could be a ploy, an act, but what act would willingly seem weak in front of a Jedi? She placed her hands back behind her back.

“Don’t worry, I don’t have Sith aboard my ship. If I did, you can rest assured they wouldn’t be jumping out of the cargo holds any time soon.” She cracked a smile at the Twi’lek, trying to give off a sense of warmth and friendliness which she hoped he could sense in some way. If a Sith could sense anger and fear, surely he could sense friendship and love…even if it was slightly forced. “And you have nothing to worry about, friend. My droid is currently running scans of com signals and life signs on this asteroid and around it. If he sees something, he’ll let us know,” She tapped the eyepatch, “and we’ll be able to get off and into hyperspace before they can even see this rock.”

She stepped forward, bowing before the Sith. “We don’t have much time, though. People will begin to wonder where I’ve run off to if I don’t return to Corellia soon.”

Taz’hezyst seemed to sense Gevi’s intial (if fleeting) thought that accompanied her reaching for her lightsabers, and he cringed, raising his hands up, “I’m not armed!”

Quickly he clapped his hands over his mouth and murmured an apology. As she stepped forward toward him, Taz’hezyst shrunk back; the movement itself so well practiced that it may have seemed instinctual.

“I don’t mean to be jumpy—or—or necessarily doubtful. Yes, doubtful, I think is the word.” He glanced back over his shoulder again, “I know I shouldn’t be suspicious of the motives of a Jedi, it’s just—”

Sighing, Taz’hezyst rubbed his temples, “You get used to expecting an attack at any time, you know?” His hand reached for a lekku again to resume absent twisting, “And I know—I do, I mean, I know Jedi aren’t the deceptive sorts. You said you’d be alone and I don’t have any legitimate reason to think otherwise, yes?”

He offered her what he hoped would pass for a tentative smile, “I—do appreciate it, really—that you came out here and all. Don’t leav—” Taz’hezyst snapped his mouth shut and shook his head, “Don’t let me keep you from returning to your post. Getting yourself in trouble wouldn’t help either of much, would it?”

Geviana actually felt bad for the Sith, which surprised her and that surprise was shown on her face for a moment. “I understand you being nervous about this. Trust me, I am as well. If Kerem knew I was meeting a Sith on my own, without taking you to an Republic spaceport and keeping you locked up, he’d most likely lecture me until my ears fell off.”

She reached out carefully to grasp his shoulder in a friendly manner, squeezing it lightly. She leaned down to try to look at him in the eyes, giving him a reassuring smile. “It’s okay, you’re going to be gone from those wicked people soon, I promise you.”

The Jedi reached down to her pocket, pulling out a small comm unit. “Here, this is linked to my own personal one and it’s been encrypted several times. It doesn’t allow recordings and anyone who happens to get the frequency is going to hear nothing but gibberish.” She placed it in the Twi’lek’s hand and smiled once more.

“You’re going to be safe now, Taz’hezyst. I won’t let the Sith brainwash another one of your kind into thinking their way is the correct one. I won’t allow this anymore.” Anger flashed in Gevi’s eyes for a moment and she glared at the Sith standing before her. “But right now, you’re still a Sith and I still do not trust you.”

She took a step back, pulled out a saber and ignited it, bringing it forward to stare at Taz’hezyst, inches away from his face. “And I will not hesitate to destroy you should I get the chance and the knowledge you have betrayed my trust.” She stared at him for a moment before letting the saber extinguish itself, placing it back on her hip. She gave him another friendly smile, the anger but washing away from her, being replaced with kindness. “But until that time comes, I will try and treat you with the respect you deserve.”

“That comm unit will help us stay in touch. I’ll get with you later this evening about our next meeting, but I must leave now. Kerem is hailing me on the ship.” She bowed before the Sith and walked backwards up the ramp to her ship.

“Keep it opened, don’t worry. I’ve made sure no one else can mess with it! Corellian’s Honor!” She flashed a bright grin at the Sith and made her way into her ship.

I’ve decided to try my hand at a deception and subtle games beyond needling that big idiot,...

Thu, 31 May 2012 16:06:03 -0400

I’ve decided to try my hand at a deception and subtle games beyond needling that big idiot, Tholgeth.

After discussing the matter at length with my Master, I’ve decided that my initial target is appropriate.

One of those Corellian Jedi; they appear to be a bit more volatile than the regular sort. She is back on Corellia, which is convenient as I am there working to undo what her idiot kind are attempting to repair.

The one I met on Voss, the one with so many doubts, fears, and issues with Sith and trust. She is perfect, and I am just the one to do it. I have a lifetime of having to be what I am not and do so convincingly in order to survive and excel.

Toward her, I have made overtures of wishing to flee the Empire and the Sith and make a new life for myself with the Jedi. The fact that I am Twi’lek works well for me, the Empire (and the Sith) are well known for treating aliens as lessers. The fact that I am not mindlessly violent and able to control myself lends truth to my words.
I always take care to hide the very mild corruption that I would otherwise display on a physical level.

The fact that my Master is more than willing to play his part by his outward treatment of me—amazing. His dumb brute of a guard dog only adds to it.

I have survived a life of slavery, Korriban, my trials, and life as a Sith. Physical pain hardly makes me flinch any longer (which is not to say I enjoy anything coming at my lekku). They will aid in adding truth to my story of being hunted at a lethal level and ‘barely escaping with my life’. I imagine I’ll be left with lasting scars from it, very few Jedi would look at that and be suspicious.

Oh, what a tragic life of slavery I’ll have had, first on Nar Shaddaa, and then “to the Sith”. It’s a pity that I’m not entirely sure that I can cry at will, but I know I can appear shrinking, frightened and submissive, a bit like a whipped animal; every slave knows how to do that.

That man with her, however—he may be suspicious. He’ll be a fine line of not over or underdoing things.

She however, seems to wish for what I’ve been telling her to be true. She’ll believe anything I tell her, barring him telling her to slow down and think. Humility, not overdone, will go over well with him, I think.

My Master’s agents will be watching, as will my Master; transmissions back to him, of course, will be sparse and in coded language. The woman seems fascinated with droids, which will keep me from being lazy about secure communication.

She will trust me in the end.

I will see to it.

It won’t be as enjoyable to yank the rug out from under her if she does not.

Oh. Brilliant.

Mon, 28 May 2012 23:56:57 -0400

Most of Corellia is under either enforced or unintional comm silence. I finally get to an area that makes communication possible, and the first thing I see is that bitchy old Sith going on about how his precious apprentices have fallen out of contact.

I’m sure he’s just baiting me us. If he doesn’t know where we all are, he’s an idiot, or he thinks we’re idiots. My credits are on the latter.

This planet is horrible. I haven’t slept properly in days. I haven’t even been able to meditate properly in days; every time I get close, something explodes or some idiot interrupts me.

“Are you napping?” is possibly the dumbest question I’ve ever been asked, I don’t care that it was probably some 15 year old kid who asked. Who naps kneeling?! What kind of an idiotic—never mind. I’ve come to the conclusion that I dislike being disturbed in that manner.

She’s lucky I was exhausted as I was or she’d not be asking anyone anything, stupid or not, any longer. The look she got sent her running.

In retrospect—ah well, no point dwelling on that.

Even without the constant bombardment and fighting it would be horrible; reminds me of Nar Shaddaa with better lighting, and it’s just about as ugly. Fairly certain this is where Sith send their apprentices to die, though if I asked Bi’ev, he’d likely just give me a deadpan stare and drawl, “No, Apprentice, we send you to Hoth to die.”

The Friendly Sith.

Wed, 16 May 2012 10:30:00 -0400

It’s taken ages, but I suspect my Master has finally figured out that what he viewed as a flaw in my personality or thought process is an asset more than anything.

I am…sociable.

Kind, even. Disarmingly charming. Friendly, social, affable, adaptable. I had to learn to portray all of these things accurately while growing up. It was expected of the slaves to be presentable both physically and in terms of etiquette and interaction with those around them.

It’s quite easy for me to fall back on a lifetime of having to be gracious, welcoming, and submissive (though not in the way of acting like a cringing idiot, more in the way of simply knowing my place in the social strata), especially when I know that such an attitude is disarming.

No one expects it from a Sith. Some call it for the act that it is, but I am so terribly convincing at being hurt by that accusation that it’s usually dropped and apologized for. Most are simply knocked off balance by a Sith who does not strut and fling arrogance like a spoiled child flinging toys around a nursery.

The Jedi woman I spoke with last night was the latter. The quiet one with her the former. He was useless, but it was necessary to placate him to the degree that he felt me at least harmless enough to engage in conversation.

Honestly, we were in the marketplace in Voss-Ka, what did he think I was going to pull?

But, her. She was glorious. She’d make an excellent Sith. That woman didn’t even try to mask all of the anger she felt toward me simply for daring to speak to her or, I suspect, simply for existing at all.

Oh, and she was angry. And afraid.

The mention of my finding my Master’s tactics somewhat heavy handed and based more on emotion than common sense—it was as though I’d physically hit her; that surge of emotionm, that surge of fear that radiated, if only for a moment…

I hadn’t bargained on the latter; it felt like unexpected dessert, somehow.

Some idiot Sith decided I was, apparently, ‘starting a fight’, though I’ll never quite figure out how she came to that conclusion when we were discussing, in vague terms, philosophy in a marketplace. None of us had weapons drawn or were in even remotely aggressive or defensive stances. I must admit, I was irritated by the fact that the Sith would not take my word for it and instead waited for the Jedi to tell her that I was not some horrible Twi’lek bully.

Bet she only had a problem with it because I was Twi’lek anyway. A Pureblood or a Human would have been passed without notice.

Irritating.

I don’t mind, however, that continued sort of—attitude—only serves to make me stronger.

My Master knows all of this, of course.

I have been given free reign to toy with this Jedi woman as I see fit, up to and including appearing to dislike my station in life and the Sith in general.

The suspicious one with her told me twice that the proverbial door was open should I ever wish to defect. My Master tells me that that could be an incredibly useful ‘hope’ to play off of, and I agree.

I am beginning to see why he enjoys these sorts of games.

They’re thrilling.

Voss, Voss, Voss.

Thu, 10 May 2012 15:36:56 -0400

I quite like this planet.

There are so many archaeological dig sites that are, for whatever reason, avoided or ignored by the Voss but open to anyone who can get the Gormak (or the Republic) out of the way.

I have no issues with getting those things out of my way.

The history here is amazing, though some of it seems to be a bit damning to the Empire’s chances on this planet; I should destroy it or take it to someone, but they’d likely destroy it.

I can’t seem to bring myself to do that, so I leave it where it is.

Some idiot claiming to be an Agent with Imperial Intelligence tried to bark orders at me in Voss-Ka. He didn’t take it kindly when I reminded him that neither he nor the Empire were the authority here and that it was the Voss who were in charge of the city, including both enclaves.

He then threatened to arrest me, to which I laughed.

Then came the threat of being shot.

He backed down when I reminded him that acting so foolishly in Voss-Ka could, in effect, sway the Voss to side with the Republic and that he would likely be arrested and executed by the authority he claimed to represent if that were to happen—and even if it weren’t to happen, he has literally no authority either over a Sith or anyone in Voss-Ka.

I do not take orders from Imperial Intelligence (on Voss or otherwise) unless they come from one of my superiors or one of the Voss directly, and even then, I require proof beyond, “I said so.”

Eventually, he gave up and, seemingly upset that I wasn’t intimidated by him, stomped off complaining loudly about Sith ‘elitists’.

(( Cleaned up RP log between Taz’hezyst and sober!Dytelo. )) Dytelo trudged into the Voss-ka...

Wed, 02 May 2012 13:36:00 -0400

(( Cleaned up RP log between Taz’hezyst and sober!Dytelo. ))

Dytelo trudged into the Voss-ka cantina with a cold glare in his eye. As he entered, he spied is old friend Taz’hezyst. “I’m dry sober and you invite me to a CANTINA?!”

“Did I say we’d -stay- in the cantina?” Taz’hezyst smiled, shrugging idly “It was the only place, offhand, that I could remember by name. I’m still not used to anything on this planet, especially their naming conventions for buildings.”

The Twi’lek stretched a bit, and paused to wrap his lekku around his neck and shoulders, ”Perhaps we could take a walk, if it’s not too much effort, of course.”

“A walk would be -wonderful-.” Dytelo may have just mocked himself as he turned to leave the wine-filled room without giving Taz’hezyst any time to catch up.

Typical Sith behavior, at least, to Taz’hezyst. He was more than used to his own Master acting in a similar manner and knew well enough how to fall back in step. After all, falling behind would just be irritating, “I see you’re a bit more—Sith-like. I actually prefer it. Any place in particular you’d like to go?”

“Since this was your bright idea” Dytelo sneered, “and since I shouldn’t be near alcohol, away from the cantina is priority. I don’t even know this city, do you?!”

“I know how to get away from it, either by shuttle or by transport back to my ship—I also know that I get relatively dirty looks if I wander into areas that the Republic considers ‘theirs’.” He shrugged lightly, “It’s a decent enough looking place to simply wander aimlessly and, unlike Nar Shaddaa, it’s highly unlikely that anyone will attempt to harvest our organs.”

Taz’hezyst stopped speaking, at least for a moment, as they passed a group of Voss, “Would you prefer to walk in seething silence, or actually attempt conversation? Either way suits me, though I’m not in a terribly seeth-y mood.”

Dytelo stopped mid-stride to gaze leeringly at Taz. “I make nice a lot better with wine. But I’ll do my best.” He turned to walk forward, “When are you killing your master?”

The Twi’lek smiled politely in return, “I’m sure you do, however, I didn’t ask to meet you like this so you could ‘make nice’; it was to get to know you. As for my Master,” he made a somewhat dismissive noise, “When it happens, it happens. I’m not so stupid as to challenge him if I am not absolutely certain that I will win.”

“Good. As long as you plan to carry it out. So many of weaker blood refuse to kill their master because they -care-.” He turned his head to nodded at the Twi’lek firmly. “Come, join me, stand beside me. We are the same rank.”

“The only thing about which I care is seeing Tholgeth fall prior,” Taz’hezyst did not openly acknowledge the request to walk beside Dytelo beyond simply falling into step next to the smaller man, “I would love nothing more than to see my Master’s favored—and for no reason other than blood—apprentice be snuffed out. Preferably by me, but I’ll happily take a lucky accident as well.”

“That Tholgeth is a stain. I’d pay we to see his death.” Dytelo spat on the ground near him, giving an unintelligble grumble.

“I don’t know what my Master sees in him, aside from red skin. I suspect the only reason he’s still alive is that he’s brute-forced his way past Death.” The Twi’lek shook his head sharply, causing one of his lekku to fall free.

With a quick, almost silent curse in his native tongue, he shovedthe stray tendril back into place, “As far as I can tell, he was only taken on to spite me and remind me that I am not, in fact, ‘pureblooded’—no offense intended, of course.”

The Pureblood scoffed coldly, “I’d offer my services to help you, if I didn’t have a master of my own to kill.”

“Mm. Greaves, yes? The one not-so-affectionately called ‘Darth Pants’ on the open frequency? I’m not entirely certain what my Master’s issue with him is, though I suspect it has to do with his—er—breeding.” Taz’hezyst smiled again, “I base that on the fact that he simply refers to the man as ‘mongrel’ in private conversation.”

“Your master will have nothing to do but thank me soon, then.” Dytelo gave a twisted smirk to himself.

“I suppose, I suppose.” Taz’hezyst nodded again, “Don’t get too far ahead of yourself though; I know restraint isn’t typically a Sith trait, but it does have its virtues. After all, without it, there would be a whole mass of Tholgeth clones running about.”

“Subtlety also has its place, though I can see the value in open bravado to the point that you’ll be assumed to be all bark and no bite, so to speak.” He smiled rather benignly, “I’ve found, even though it’s expected for apprentices to eventually snuff out their Masters, that it’s less expected or acceptable for them to openly speak of it. Perhaps that’s only in the case of ‘aliens’, though.”

Dytelo jingled his lightsaber hilt about as he stares at Taz’hezyst. “You’re -still- talking? What an absolute pain.”

“Mm. I suspect it would be rude to not at least respond to what you say. If you’d prefer to walk in silence, however, I can acquiesce.” Taz’hezyst inclined his head politely and falls silent.

Dytelo rolled his guilty eyes, “How are you, Tazhezyst?” Dytelo asked bluntly, doing his best to act his “normal” self.

“Well enough.” Taz’hezyst replied, with a bit of a shrug, “Gidatar has the good sense to stay out of my way; I only know that she’s alive because I occasionally catch a glimpse of her or Bi’ev mentions her. I’ve been in his good graces lately, mostly due to Tholgeth’s social flailings,” he chuckled, “—not to mention failings.”

“I know he’s been pleased not so much because of what he’s said as what he’s -not- said. Well,” the Twi’lek grinned, flashing a set of sharp teeth, “that, and he bought me a new speeder and has been discussing a change in rank.”

“What about you?”

“I’ve been better. Gidatar is your master’s other Twi’lek apprentice, yes?”

“She is, yes. Skinny, ugly thing.” He very nearly sneered, “Looks like a pre-pubescent boy. Probably why she’s so angry. I’d heard that not even the Hutts wanted her because she was so plain -and- couldn’t dance.” Taz’hezyst sighed, “Quite sad for a Twi’lek woman, really. I imagine the anger and humiliation from that fuels most of what makes her successful.”

“I’ll confess myself confused as to why you seem to be under the impression that you’re unpleasant when sober. Its a hell of a lot better than giggling and going on as though you’re a little girl excited about a tea party with her dolls. You actually come off as a person, instead of some horrifying stereotype without the wine.”

”I cannot, for the life of me, count how many people I would have killed if I ran around sober. Like those people at the Nexus Cantina.” He sliced his hand over his neck. “Dead. In an instant. How else do you think I handle the most fucking crazed Darth in the galaxy?” He tipped his finger back towards his mouth with a smirk. “Wiiiine.”

“Mm. Suppose it puts up a good front; makes you seem like a bit of a harmless, foppish idiot.” The Twi’lek chuckled dryly, “My Master seems to be big on—not meditation, but, I guess the best way to describe it would be something like a storage battery. Stay cordial, calm, and sociable, “Taz’hezyst muttered, “for the most part.”

Clearing his throat, he continued, “And channel the pent up irritation or anger or whatever it is he wants to call it into work that matters. He’s always been insistent that I not lower myself to fighting in public; says that’s for slaves and trash.”

“He’s also told me that only the weak feel it’s necessary to throw their titles and power around in public. I can’t say that I disagree with that; the amount of idiocy I hear coming out of the mouths of supposed Lords and Darths in those cantinas…”

”I did not ask you about your master, Taz,” he replies simply. “Why are you telling me?”

Taz’hezyst shrugged apologetically, “Mainly because I did not have the benefit of growing up in what amounts to Sith society. Much of what I know of it comes from him, and it’s what I’ve chosen to follow; a good portion of it makes sense, and I am glad that I didn’t end up with someone like Tholgeth or one of those idiots that seem to wander around Kaas City cackling like madmen. I can’t really say I have much in terms of my own opinions on much of it, because I’ve not experienced it. I suppose that makes me still sound like a bit of a slave.”

Taz’hezyst smiled again, “Ah well, one doesn’t get away from nearly two decades of one mindset overnight. It does make for conversation, though; part of me is curious to know what being an apprentice to Greaves is like, but it’s not my place to pry.”

“Greaves? Take a gross man with gross teeth and gross hair, have him hit on you, then shock you mercilessly for misbehaving. The man is clinically insane, and, given my way, I’d run as far away from the man as possible.” Dytelo scoffed, and spit on the ground again. “It also does not help to have people judge you because of your master. They find me weak and foolish because my master is weak and foolish.”

“Ugh, I don’t need to know -that- to know to stay away.” Taz’hezyst curled his lip, “I’ve heard what he says about Twi’lek or, more specifically, Twi’lek that look exactly as I look. That alone is enough to make never want to be alone with him or even within range of him unless it’s somehow absolutely necessary.”

“On the positive side, if you’re thought to be weak and foolish simply because you’re tethered to a Master like that, it does give you a distinct advantage. Others are bound to expect little from you in terms of being a problem or a threat to them, which can only make life easier for you in the long run.” He reached back and unwound his lekku, letting them fall and stay loose for the moment, “Assuming, that is, that you know how to take advantage.”

“Don’t you think I know that? That’s what I’ve doing all this time. Idiot.” He glared at Taz’hezyst and turned to continue walking. “Darths are so busy with their all brawn no brains apparentices, I’m hardly ever noticed. And if I am, my charm usually keeps the Darth from making too big a deal out of me. I’m never taken into account as a threat by other Sith, even the Jedi think I’m an idiot.”

“And yet,” the Twi’lek absently tapped at his chin with a long, sharp nail, “you’ve freely told me, in great detail, your illusion, how you keep it, and how you use it. I think, perhaps, you’re not as sly as you seem to think. There is a good amount of danger in being too open and honest with people.”

His smirk widened into a knife edged smile, “In fact, you opened up to me quite readily—it took very little effort on my part—despite the fact that we hardly know one another and you know that I am Sith. Of course, I could only be saying that to put you on edge.”

Dytelo stopped in his tracks. “You think you can threaten me?” He igniteed his lightsaber and turned violently to hold it to Taz’s neck. “My -act- is not my only talent. It is not the only edge I have over my enemies. I am Sith, and I am not afraid to show it.”

His eyes narrowed into a dead cold stare. “Care to see?”

“And a quick temper to boot.” Taz’hezyst murmured.

Smiling once again, the Twi’lek kept his voice even and smooth. This certainly wasn’t the first time he’s had a lightsaber at his throat, after all.

“It was merely a statement of fact, Dytelo, not a threat. Were it a threat, I’d have lured you away from the city proper first, and would have most certainly made sure you were in a prone position.”

”But,” he sighed, ”I doubt i need to remind you that we’re in the middle of Voss-ka and a fight here would be suicidal, not to mention exceptionally damaging to the Empire’s efforts on the planet. The survivor of the fight would be lucky to survive the wrath that would certainly be handed down from the Emperor for handing the Republic a victory simply because someone couldn’t keep his temper.”

“I would suggest,” Taz’hezhyst reached an arm out and ran one sharp claw along the length of the ‘blade’, taking care (of course) to not actually come into contact with it, “that you put your weapon away before we draw the attention of the Voss, if we haven’t already.”

Dytelo extinguished his blade with a gruff sound. “This is why I drink, Taz. I’m leaving now, I’m thirsty.” The Pureblood clipped the hilt of his blade onto his hip and turned to walk away toward the Voss-ka Spaceport.

Taz’hezyst stifled a chuckle, just barely masking it with a noise of acknowledgement, “Very well, Dtyelo. Do enjoy the rest of you revening.”

Tholgeth is excellent at reminding me as to why I dislike spending time around him. He’s...

Tue, 01 May 2012 17:26:43 -0400

Tholgeth is excellent at reminding me as to why I dislike spending time around him.

He’s arrogant, stupid, and rude.

The only redeeming feature I see in him is that he makes an excellent—the term I heard used for his type on Nar Shaddaa—meat shield.

He can take a hit, and my own skill with the Force makes it effortless to keep him alive and generally not bleeding.

Jude has, evidently, re-defected back to the Republic.
Not surprising.
I can’t say that it bothers me; it took every ounce of self control to even be civil to him. No idea what Dytelo ever saw in him aside from the fact that, perhaps, he was a ‘sure thing’, so to speak.

Speaking of which—Dytelo, not ‘sure things’—I haven’t spoken to Dytelo in some time. I should probably do that; it never hurts to stay on good terms with another Darth’s power base.

My own Master is aware of it and has passively approved.
I get the feeling that he enjoys being overlooked and ignored as a non-issue.

I’m not entirely sure what happened between my Master and Tholgeth, but my Master showed up to...

Tue, 24 Apr 2012 12:18:30 -0400

I’m not entirely sure what happened between my Master and Tholgeth, but my Master showed up to the ship in one hell of a state. I’ve never seen him limp before. Says that was just from kicking Tholgeth’s armor in a small fit of pique.

Seems like a stupid thing to do, considering the type of boots that he wears, but—

His voice was off. Harsher than it usually is. Didn’t have to ask about that; when he lowered his hood there were clearly marks left by Force. I’ve seen people choked with it before, I know what it leave behind. The way he was moving gave the distinct impression that he was quite injured in general.

Evidently, he thought me too weak to bother to take a strike against him.

He’s only half correct. I could have killed him easily in that state, but that would have been quite stupid of me.

It’s one thing to handle a half-crippled Darth, but it’s quite another to deal with Tholgeth. I know I can’t beat Tholgeth, and I know that my Master is likely the one thing keeping Tholgeth from turning me into a bloody stain on a remote pathway somewhere.

It’s in my best interests to become indispensable to Bi’ev.

So, I healed him.

Well, as best as I could. He wasn’t exactly willing, but not entirely in a place to fight back with any real effort either.

On that topic, Esk—that Mando Rattataki—not the brightest woman I’ve met. She was going on and on over a public comm channel about wanting Dytelo and Jude to leave her in peace; figured I’d offer a subtle hand as a ‘tip’ for the information she’d been giving me and told them both to back off and let her be.

…and she turned right around and told them where she was, then invited them to come and meet with her.

Despite how it may seem outwardly, I genuinely dislike being made to look stupid and, when it’s not a Sith who outranks me, I’m not inclined to take it quietly.