Alabrek Castle
Kar Alabrek
Tarthos
"And that was when we lost track of the property." He stopped, watching the man for some sort of reaction, some sort of response. Thikka felt the seconds drag by, the dark predator glare of the man unmoving, as near as he could tell. Each moment grew more and more awkward, the liaison starting to feel the itch of idleness in his fingertips, but he willed it away.
He cursed himself inside his head, swearing that he would murder the man who called off and forced him to meet with a Lord, of all things. That was not the way he had wanted to spend his morning, panicking about details and how to approach bad news.
The Lion finally nodded once, then turned to walk away. Thikka let out a breath, watching the movement keenly. He had been worried that the Dark Lord would have reacted as poorly as he had heard from the others in the bureau, the Warhost attaches bringing back horror stories about the foxtrot uniforms in the field.
Ashen let the door slide closed behind him, his mind dissecting the situation. The 'property' was an antique from Ryloth, although from the images on the Liaison's datapad, not made by a Twi'Lek. He let his legs carry him to his ship, the rhthym of his boots in the corridor echoing off the walls. It would have to have some serious resonance in the Force for some mere treasure seekers to abscond with it. He flipped open the comm center in his arm's datapad, tapping otu a message to Blackwind to prepare for liftoff.
Meditation Chamber
Fallen Spear
Hyperspace
He sat in the middle of the room, a raised dias covered in deep royal fabric. His legs crossed, his arms resting on his knees as his eyes slid closed. He felt along the edges of consciousness, let his heart and mind still themselves, letting his senses open themselves up to the Force.
It was a tidal wave. It always was. The loud thoughts of countless sentients caressed his mind, the flow and ebb of life and death, soil and steel all making their presence known. He savored the stimuli, his mind sharpening as he focused his mind, as he narrowed his net.
It was there, in the industrial sector of Nar Shaddaa. He felt along its edges, tracing the connections between the artifact and the universe that birthed it. Sense slipped away, and vanished back into the ether, like a thread pulled back into the tapestry.
Muz stood up, cracking his neck as he looked up at the blue miasma of hyperspace through the viewscreen. He would have to have it in his possession if he wanted to know for sure. If the lost artifact was the brother to the box he had acquired on Kalsunor. If it was one of the pieces he had been hunting for.
Muz smiled.
Consul's Office
The Temple of Sorrow
Sepros
"Let me get this straight." Locke looked at the Quaestor incredulously. "You think that Muz went to go retrieve the Ryloth Relic?"
Tasha'Vel blinked at the Consul, as confused as he was. "That is what the Warhost Liaison reported to me."
"Why does he even care?" Locke sneered, pacing the area between his desk and the view. "Did we get any sort of analysis on what the relic did?"
"Not yet, but I can't imagine it would be so powerful as to attract his attention. If it was that strong, we all would have felt it when we picked it up." She watched the man pace. "And it's not like he's actually trying to make a name for himself and join the Black Guard..."
Locke paused for a moment, turning to look at her. "No, but that would be a hell of a benefit."
Tasha cocked her head to the side. "What are you talking about?"
Locke laughed. "Imagine the stories, Tasha. Suppose someone or something tried to attack you, and it got stopped by your Black Guard."
She looked at him like he had just ate a box of spice. "That's kinda their job, right?"
"Well, yes... but if it somehow were to slip that your Black Guard was a former Grand Master..."
"That seems awfully presumptive." She interrupted him. "Surely, he has more important things to do with his time. The One Si..."
"Exactly." Locke smiled, turning back to the view. "Muz is almost always off on his own business, business that I am sure most of us would rather not meddle. But even if only once that there was confirmation of Muz being a Black Guard, imagine what that would do to the morale of the clan..." Locke's eyes narrowed. "Of the other clans."
Tasha felt a smile creep up the corners of her mouth. "No one would dare strike at us."
Fithram Warehouse Offices
Industrial Sector
Nar Shaddaa
The Iktochi Triplets, Vari, Deri, and Turi smiled as they watched the businessman count out dataries, sliding them, stack by stack into the case. They had no idea why the pale human cared about the old artifacts, but they didn't care so long as he kept paying them. This one was particularly easy, lifting the relic from the ruin of the old skyhook while it still burned. The Sith took their sweet time coming back to the wreckage a,d the others would never doubt that they were among their number. It was one of the easier acquisitions they had seen in a few months, and the credits would go a long way to settling some scores.
The businessman, Vari never got his name, finished stacking the tiny chits, looking up at them as he slid the case across the table, then picking up his purchase with eager hands.
It was a fist sized cube, intricate etchings lacing the outer shell. They seemed to be indicative of more, hiding some sort of puzzle mechanism, some secret way to open the device and see something within. It was unlike anything that any of them had seen, but the Force sang within it. Whomever had created the relic had been force sensitive, to be sure. He turned it in his hands, letting his eyes slide up to the triplets.
Darkness moved toward them from behind, a full head taller than any of them, the dark visor of a battle helmet crowned with a beasts’ head and hair glinting in the dimmed office light. Eyes went wide as the businessman put a million paranoid theories into his mind at once.
Deri reacted first to the man's changing expression, spinning around to see the dark armor. There was only barely enough time for his eyes to register that someone was there before he found himself smashing into the ceiling, then the floor, the slick sound of bones breaking inside tearing flesh spurring his brothers into action.
Turi reached back, his hand drawing out a blaster as color swept his vision, the razor hum of energized adegans cleaving the durasteel from his hand, then the front of his face from his head. He staggered backwards, the shock of the stroke taking him to his knees before his body realized it was already past time to die.
Vari bellowed, throwing himself at the man, only to find a kick sweeping him from the air before he could even touch the man. The movement was almost too quick to see, a quick step, then the grinding of boot into the floor, compressing his throat and making his vision go grey. He gasped as he struggled for breath, the Dark Lord looking up at the businessman in the seconds before the violet violence of his weapon ended Vari's suffering.
"Mine." The word echoed from within and without, gravelly and heavy. The businessman could not put the relic on the desk quickly enough, stepping back away from it as though it were poisonous. Muz looked at the artifact, feeling along the Force, around the ties that linked it to the rest of the universe.
The businessman tried to make himself a ssmall as possible, flattening himself against the far wall, trying to edge his way toward the exit while the Keibatsu stared at the relic. Only fifteen feet from the door.
Muz twisted the line back. It was old, but not what he had expected. The power within the device was residual, locked up within the spinning gears, the potential minor. It might have been created as a test, a craftsman's game, or a tool to hone the skills of a holocron maker. Muz felt the tinge of disappointment as he let his senses drape back into the present. The fool was here to purchase this, and the stacks of Republic dataries in the case on the table told him that this wasn't the first in his collection. The Ryloth Relic was not what he was looking for, but...
Nine feet to the door, the businessman held his breath, trying to make himself as silent as possible. He felt the warmth before he saw it. The tip of the purple blade snarled in the darkness at him, holding him to his spot. He traced the line of the burning power up toward the man who held it.
"More."
Quaestor's Offices
Alabrek Citadel
Tarthos
"I didn't keep you waiting, I hope?" She came into the room, bowing carefully, her eyes never leaving the Grand Master. She had been through that training, keeping her manners as best she could, despite the cultural differences that the Kyataran had illustrated. Locke had him brought over to train any summit member who would be in close contact with the Lord, concerned that a faux pas would leave him to replace summit members too often.
Ashen didn't respond, only opening his hand and letting the Force take the relic from his hand to hers. She reached up, taking the relic with both hands, lowering her head in a signal of gratitude.
Muz watched her hold the relic for a moment, thought and question screaming behind his blackened eyes.
"Thank you, Lord Keibatsu." She looked up at him. “And those who took it?”
Muz only smiled before turning to leave.