Manually added by Augur Kordath Bleu

Kul'tak Drol #13819

Objective 2: Neutralize

**Meridian Station Space**
**A Drop Pod Floating Through That Space**

Two crimson eyes watched the crystalline pattern as it etched its way across the breathing apparatus’ plexiglass frame. Taking another draught of cool air, the Zabrak let his breath once again coat the glass, letting it film and blur his vision. The distraction was necessary as the tight quarters of his drop pod began to close in around him. The walls were a constant sight at the edge of his vision and his arms had barely enough room to grasp the small controls needed to steer the vessel. The pod drifted silently towards its destination:the Collective’s station in this part of space designated *Meridian.* And possibly the goal of the Brotherhood’s entire campaign. Somewhere in that floating fortress was information pertaining to the location of an artifact determined to be highly important by the Dark Council, or maybe even the item itself. Either way, Kul had been given his part to play in the machinations of the Inquisitorius. Infiltrate the station and neutralize their shield generators. A smile inched its way up his cheek at the thought. The Inquisitorius was normally strict in how its members were to complete missions in order to lessen the risk, but they’d given him free reign. Well, almost.

“Drol.”

The Zabrak rolled his eyes as his commlink automatically accepted the encrypted channel.

“For all the secrecy the Inquisitorius brags about, you sure do like to drop names. *Agent.*”

“Hmph. As your handler, I must ensure that you understand the implications of your task. You must not fail. The Brotherhood depends upon those shields dropping, otherwise all these lives around you are forfeit.”

As if in reminder the pod shook as a nearby explosion rocked the space around him. He could only see a limited view of what was in front of him--a few fighters chasing each other in varying circles instead of clashing in real combat. The thought that he might die from a misplaced laser barrage sickened him, but he trusted the Force to guide him to his prey. For why would it have spared him back then just to throw him away now?

“Well it’s a good thing they chose me, then. I plan to exact a high price for the Collective’s choice to face the Brotherhood through such cowardly means. They will find I do not share their fear of open battle.”

“Just remember that the generators are your priority, Inquisitor. While your methods are of no concern, do not let your passion blind you.”

Kul pulled his arm up stiffly as he reached for the commlink.

“I’ll take out the generators, don’t you worry. You focus on telling HQ not to blow the thing while I’m still on it. See you at the medal ceremony.”

“Well aren’t you just as arrog--”

*Click*

Kul lowered his left hand and retook the controls. It was about time. The *Meridian* certainly looked large enough in the images he’d seen during briefing, but up close its gargantuan size dwarfed what he’d imagined. For one of the few times in his life, Kul felt small. He suddenly remembered the compartment he was in and took a deep breath. Tilting his left hand he pushed the thrusters forward and activated their boosters. The pod began to pick up speed, its momentum unsolicited by nausea-inducing atmosphere. He had to time this part just right or the whole mission would end before it officially began. He held off giving the engine full power, his eyes tracking the various flight decks. He counted in his head while another wave of Collective fighters disembarked and soared into the aerial melee engulfing the sector. The station was getting larger. His gaze flicked left to right, watching. The station took up his entire viewport now. The numbers added, the math checked, Kul released the breath he’d unknowingly been holding. He drove the thruster mechanism home and the pod burst forward. As it did the station’s shield in front of him swept back as a wave of fighters sought to emerge. Reaching with his right hand Kul nearly ripped the pod’s locking mechanism out as he jerked it with all his strength. As the pod raced by the now scrambling fighters the eject system triggered and Kul was launched through the open hangar bay door. The pod itself struck the hangar floor. Fire erupted from the crash site, driving soldiers and deck hands to the floor for cover.

While the distraction bought him time, Kul sent a pulse of Force energy through his legs. Amplified, he braced them as his free fall brought him down on top of a T-70 X-Wing that had been taking off. He landed solidly on the rear, the impact tilting the vessel and sending it spiraling into the roof as he slipped off and fell to the floor below. His suffused legs took the brunt of the landing, but he slammed a hand downward with a telekinetic blast to offset some of the momentum as well. One of the rising Collective deck hands witnessed it and pointed.

“Oh he did it! He did a superhero lan--”

The surprise was etched on the man’s face as it rolled around the floor, the neck seared and still hissing. With his main saber unleashed, Kul released the energy in his legs and reached his left hand to draw his parrying shoto. His face grew still, but his eyes were hungry. A couple of troopers began to approach armed with Z6 riot batons twirling. Kul raised a saber to them.

“I wish for the best you have. I warn you, should you not be confident in your ability, leave now. Or you will die today.”

The troopers looked at each other. Whether by choice or a testament of their Collective influence the two kept coming. Kul lowered his stance, straight saber poised across at shoulder height, shoto waiting patiently at his rear.

“Come then, and let me show you the way of Jar’Kai.”

The troopers took their ground and circled the Zabrak so that one was at each pole. The Zabrak waited patiently while the one to his rear took a step forward and brought his baton over head. The charged prongs on the front gave Kul plenty of warning as he twisted his ankles and spun. His straight saber swept the baton to the side, but instead of reaching in with his shoto Kul reversed his straight saber and drove it behind him. The second trooper had approached from behind, but sidestepped to avoid the humming blade by inches. Having recovered, the first trooper pulled the baton’s handle inward to his chest and thrust out with the prongs aimed for a Kul’s chest. The second trooper sought to synchronize with his brethren and swung his baton from the side to counter a backwards dodge. Kul spun again, this time using his shoto to catch and deflect the first baton while slapping aside the second. From the corner of his eyes Kul noticed a few troopers rushing out from a side entrance. These carried blasters and would make things interesting, but somewhat tedious.

*Guess I’ll have to play later.*

As the first trooper spun the baton to return a swing, Kul rushed in before the weapon could finish its revolution. Holding his shoto in a downward stabbing position, he swept it outward to drive the baton wide and drove his straight saber through the trooper. The soldier collapsed, but his partner was in a good position to take retribution. The baton was already falling. With a sparking crash the prongs fell upon Kul’s extended right arm, driving his elbow in and forcing him to relinquish his grip on his saber. With a newfound confidence the trooper stepped in to deliver the final blow and render this invader unconscious. To his dismay, the Zabrak appeared to shrug off the charged strike, his turning face darkened with rage. With a roar Kul drove a fist into the man’s chest that threw him onto his back. A snarl and a leap brought Kul down on him. The shoto remained unused while Kul pummeled the trooper’s helmet with his gauntleted hand and the hilt of his saber. The body twitched but the trooper did not rise as the Zabrak’s growing hunger for violence turned his gaze onto the newest arrivals. He barely remembered to grab his other saber before he moved. His vision a red blur, Kul felt only hate as his instincts zeroed in on the sounds of armor moving. One by one he tore through the masses of armor as flashes of bright red zoomed by him. He felt the thudding blows of a weapon and tore the limb that bore it from its host. He willingly slipped into the depths of his hatred, not caring to control it all. There was a freedom he found amidst the Dark side that was only second to his time with his love, Tahiri. He embraced its leading hand and it carried him wading through flesh and armor amidst a blur until he found himself attempting to hammer down a blast door with his fist. It was only then that he realized he had traveled outside of the hangar and had made his way to what appeared to be a mechanical room.

Kul reigned in the Force, though it was never a fast process. His view was still groggy and his breathing shook with every tug of his lungs. The ichor sticking to his cloak and armor had yet to dry, and red goo streaked across the wall as he held it for support. He reached down with his free left hand to grab his straight saber which he’d apparently dropped to more easily smack the door. He ignited its blade and drove it into the door’s control panel, leaning more on the hilt than he meant to. The mechanism accepted the override and the door lock released with a pressurized rush of air. Kul blinked and took in the room, coherent enough to recognize the machinery. He had managed to end up in the housing for the shield’s generator. He laughed inwardly, which still hurt somehow.

*I should’ve played the galactic lottery today. Maybe when I get back. Could use the credits to buy Tahiri and Reeka a nice new dress or something.*

Kul stumbled onto the suspended walkway that stretched over the actual generator. A technician who was checking over the input and output ratios realized he was not alone and stared gaping at the Zabrak. He rushed to pull out a commlink in his pocket, but it slipped from his fingers in his hurry. They both watched the device fall a hundred meters to the power source below where it vanished with a small poof amidst the raw electrical output. The technician shrugged.

“Look, I’m just the IT guy. I don’t get paid enough to put up with whatever you are.”

Kul squinted at the man before jerking his head towards the door on the opposite side. With his rage coming down he was starting to fully experience the wounds he’d gathered on his way here. At least two of them felt like blaster burns. His interest in fighting a civilian was low to begin with anyway. As the man left rather speedily, Kul reached into his cloak and pulled out a thermal imploder. He approached the main console the tech had been working at and unraveled a thread of wire from the grenade. He used it to fasten the imploder to the console. He had rigged the grenade to explode on a timer prior to his arrival, and he punched in the code required to initialize its sequence. In five standard minutes, the shields would be no more.

*You’re gonna owe me a drink, Agent Handler. Or three.*

“So. There really is a rat on my station.”

From the entrance the technician had fled through stood an Umbaran female, vibrant violet eyes taking in the Zabrak and his blood-covered attire. She stood with an X-8 blaster pistol trained on him. She twitched it sideways.

“Step away from the console, Brotherhood scum.”

Kul shuffled two steps to his right, arms raised, his saber hilt resting in his hand. His left shoulder cried out in pain, but he managed to keep a grasp on his saber. The Umbaran’s gaze flicked to the console.

“Is that a bomb? Shut it down. Now.”

Kul let his arrogant sneer appear freely.

“It’s a little late for that. If I’m right, your description matches that of one Sencara A’theri, yes? The purple eyes, the black hair. I’m glad you could be here to witness the Brotherhood’s vengeance fall upon your station.”

Kul spared a glance to the imploder. Its timer was counting down. Had it been two minutes already? He tensed as a blaster shot rang out. Only his reflexes saved him as he called upon the Force and watched as the plasma bolt splashed across his barrier. His fatigue made it painful, and he did not imagine he could keep up the charade for long. His hand tightened around his saber. He’d have to make a choice. The outcome meant he’d likely not be able to get that new dress for Reeka, though.

Sencara took a step forward. Behind her a group of troopers came into the room, one of them sporting what looked like bomb disposal gear. Kul knew it would be now or never then.

*Maybe a minute left. Maybe more.*

He braced himself and ignited his saber. Sencara cried out, but all of his focus was on leaping without giving out on himself. Every muscle complained, but he landed closer to the opposite side where Sencara was and drove his saber into the walkway’s thin metal and the only support on that side. The metal resisted his pull, but his muscles strained and he sawed the saber across. The Umbaran took careful aim so as not to accidentally hit the console and fired a few rounds. Kul managed to stop one with a free hand, but the other two pounded his shoulder and right leg. He dropped his straight saber and it rolled off the side of the walkway. As the troopers drew closer, Kul stabbed into the walkway again with his shoto this time. The dragon’s head carved into it seemed to echo his own growl as the saber’s plasma ate into the metal and he felt it begin to give way. Spending what strength he could call upon, Kul roared as loud as he could, fists raised. He slammed them down on the weakened metal. The walkway crunched and groaned. Time seemed to stop for them all as the troopers and Sencara watched the walkway suddenly begin to descend. The path angled and Kul watched as the troopers lost balance and slid downward to their deaths. The Umbaran was close enough to the door that she could leap to the edge. She managed to pull herself up and through. Her loud curses echoed over the hollow room, but Kul couldn’t make them out. He tried to drag himself as quickly as possible, but he only made it halfway back before the imploder’s signature inhale triggered and then the room exploded outward. The force threw Kul back into the hallway, where he crashed into the wall and lay crumpled on his back. He coughed, a thick red mist splashing his cheeks. The sounds of the battle outside grew louder as turret barrages began to melt away chunks out of the *Meridian’s* hull. The fleet had begun a full scale assault now that they were no longer impeded by the station’s main defense. A rib-tearing cough lurched Kul, but he accepted the pain.

*Definitely gonna need to be four drinks, though.*

Objective 2: Investigation

***Outer Rim Territories***
***Kessel Sector***
***Kessel System Space***

*Caution Advised: Ghafa Ordam is not be engaged if at all avoidable. Danger level: Request Assistance Immediately.*

The data transmission had been relatively clear on the danger of an upfront approach. Which had not stopped Kul from finding himself with his hands cuffed in front of him, and his weapons on a table behind him. He always had enjoyed the straightforward approach more.

Kul did not let his eyes stray from the Nautolan as she returned his gaze with obvious hatred. Her hands clenched a few times before she placed both behind her back in a standard at rest stance. The troopers stationed around the room seemed oblivious with their deathly still posture, but the Zabrak knew they were keeping fingers on triggers and their entire focus on him.

*Good.*

He must have let his mental sneer leak onto his face, because the Nautolan stuck out her left hand and pressed a button on the controller in it. Electrical arcs coursed through the cuffs into Kul and his body tensed with pain as he doubled over slightly. He did not cry out, instead responding with a defiant growl. Rather than using the device again, the Nautolan winced as she looked at it before handing it to an aide at her side. She took a step closer and every guard in the room prepared for any move the Zabrak might make. As tall as she was for her species, Ghafa had to slightly raise her eyes to look into the Zabrak’s. She let her gaze slip to the buckle attached to his waist, a Plagueian insignia transcribed upon it.

“You must be overconfident in your abilities if you thought to wear that so openly aboard my ship, *Sith.*” She flung the last word at him, along with bits of spittle. “I find it hard to believe that a member of the Brotherhood’s slaver clan would have sought me out not knowing what I am.”

Kul gave her a crooked grin.

“Oh I know exactly what you are, Ordam. A means. To the Collective’s end. My hunt for you was only the search for the tracks, but I have found the prey itself. Against the combined efforts of the Brotherhood, you will soon find yourself back in a cage.”

Kul could see the rage flash across her eyes, but to her merit the Nautolan maintained her poise as she stalked around to Kul’s rear. She picked up the small shoto saber they had taken from him upon capture up off the table and ran her hands over the dragon head carved into the hilt. Her hand paused as she caressed the cold steel, eyes flicking over the two ryyk blades lying beside each other. A frown crossed her lips as a thought came to her. She turned back to Kul, who stared back as if in expectation. Ghafa pointed at the hilt in her hand.

“This saber, what kind is it?”

“It is a form of shoto.”

“A saber of this small size would be useless on its own, would it not?”

The Zabrak’s grin expanded.

“Indeed. It is a parrying saber.”

Ghafa’s grip tightened on the saber, triggering the activation. The small crimson blade hummed while its light reflected the deep red of her own eyes.

“So where is the other saber you would possess, then?”

“I must have dropped it on the way here.”

The saber retracted its blade with hiss as Ghafa set it down and turned to face a trooper waiting patiently near the entrance. She could tell the Zabrak was lying, but something was still off about his answer.

“Sergeant--” The trooper snapped a quick salute and stepped forward. “--did the Zabrak not have a larger saber on him when you captured him?”

The soldier paused for a second as he considered what had transpired before shaking his head.

“No, ma’am. During our skirmish with him he used only the two curved swords. The small saber was taken from him afterwards.”

“And there were no survivors from his squad of troopers or on his ship?”

“None that we found during our scans.”

Ghafa marched up to Kul, deep red eyes swirling as her mind considered possibilities.

“Who has the other saber, Sith?”

The Zabrak cocked his head slightly.

“You’re almost asking the right question. It’s not exactly a who kind of issue, but a ‘why?’ You see, though my squad is indeed dead, they were not the only ones on my ship. One other remained and slipped out during the fighting. My daughter, Reeka. She’s small enough that she can hide just about anywhere.”

Raising his shackled hands, Kul pointed at the ventilation shaft lining the ceiling.

“Including there.”

Cursing to herself, Ghafa began spouting orders to the sergeant and the other officers within the Bridge area. Kul watched, satisfied to enjoy a minor victory. Ordam was touted as being a dangerous prey with intellect to counter any strategy one might throw at her, but today her cause would weaken as nothing but a small child told the searching Advanced Inquistor Network forces of Ordam’s exact position. As Ghafa turned back, Kul could not help but offer one more jab.

“She’s smart, my Reeka. Good with computers and the like, too. I’m not a betting man, but I’d wager that about now she’s sending a bright neon ‘Come get me!’ to any Inquisitorius forces nearby. I hope you’re prepared to entertain guests.”

The Zabrak laughed aloud this time, a guffaw that drove Ordam over the edge. She nodded to the aide, who clamped a thumb down on the remote. Kul spasmed as more electricity arced up his spine and drove him to his knees. He waited for the release but the pulses kept coming and his vision began to darken, his senses thrown wild. He realized two troopers had come up and were hauling him towards the blastdoor. On the edge of his hearing he heard Ordam shouting, but could not clearly make it out. Flashing red lights permeated the hall in a deep crimson glow, and Kul tried to grin.

The ship was under attack.

Manually added by Warlord Arden Karn di Plagia

Humming a macabre tune she picked up from some slimy back alley on Nar Shaddaa, the small girl Reeka played with her braided hair while her father watched the transmission playing the commlink connected to his Inquisitorius channel. The voice of Marick Tyris drew the child’s attention, but she waited while the holorecording played before inquiring about its message. The sound echoed throughout the empty hold of Kul’s vessel, a Delta-class T-3c shuttle.

“...We are the blade that will strike back against the Collective, and we will support the Iron Forces by providing them the knowledge they need to defeat any that threaten the Brotherhood.”

As the message faded out and Kul closed the connection he gave a sideways glance at the child before huffing to himself. He had adopted the girl some time ago, but only recently had brought her back out into the world to continue her training. The timing of this message was another reminder to the Zabrak that his loyalties did not extend to just the Brotherhood anymore. Of course, he had no intentions of betraying either the Brotherhood or his clan, Plagueis, but with Tahiri and Reeka he knew that his physical weaknesses amounted to nothing when compared to the fear of what might happen should the enemies of the Inquisitorius discover them.

Kul leaned down and raised a gauntleted hand, laying it gently upon Reeka’s head. He lifted it several times in a gentle patting motion.

“You can take care of yourself, though, can’t you, little Reek?”

The tiny human girl lifted her face so that his fingers covered her eyes and she giggled.

“Of course, Father. But are you going somewhere?”

Lifting her hands away from her hair, Reeka clasped them around Kul’s forearm and waited. Smiling to himself, Kul flexed his fingers and tightened his grip on her skull. He stood carefully with her dangling and swinging her legs while she giggled ecstatically. Kul wasn’t sure why she enjoyed this particular game so much, but she was the only being in the galaxy who could claim to have remained alive after being gripped in such a manner by him.

“We shall see, little Reek. Just as the blade must obey its master, so too must I answer the call if need be. For now we shall be patient and gather information. Such is the basis for all successful missions. Knowledge in itself is power to a degree.”

He wasn’t sure where she pulled it from, but Reeka now had her left hand out to the side swinging one of her beloved vibrodaggers. Kul had never been one very talented in the ability to sense a being’s strength or presence using the Force, but he clearly felt the cold bloodlust that emanated from his daughter now. A growing feeling told him that if he had chosen to look into her eyes, he would have seen the disturbing lingerings of her shadows.

“But Father...can’t we just kill them now? Wouldn’t that fix the problem?”

Kul shut his eyes and felt the suspiration leave his lips in a heavy gust.

“And do you even know exactly who we would need to kill, little Reek?”

Kul jolted as he felt cold durasteel slice into his arm. He knew it was an accident more than anything, that his daughter had moments of intensity where her very being seemed to be a dark cloud bearing down on him. However, it was neither that nor the hungry look in her eyes as she spun her dagger that gave him concern.

“Why Father...we can just kill them all.”

Manually added by Battlelord Furios Morega

***Outer Rim Territories***
***Nancora System***
***Nancora Prime***
***The Badlands***

Nancora seemed bothered. It often found itself driving its scratching winds in an effort to try and bury the insulting blemishes across its surface. Year after year brought the roving scavengers—seeking loose shards of metal and wiring for their trade value—though this only sought to add to the already substantial debris dotting its otherwise clear surface, because inevitably the planet would unleash its suffocating winds and grind them into the surface. Of course, the vessels they came on took a bit longer to wear down. Not that Nancora minded; it was an ancient rock and possessed no sense of time. While most millennia had passed with the same cycle in mind, this current millennia had come to require much more attention. With the arrival of a stubborn bunch of creatures who had developed ways to combat Nancorra’s gnawing winds also came those who sought to destroy them. Now the planet found itself working overtime to try and groom its surface once again. In one section, where a tower of durasteel stood in defiance of Nancorra’s attempts to bury it, a small vessel rocketed to the surface and ploughed a decent trench through the softer portion of a plateau. Within the cracking metal the planet could feel the energy of three beings, with one having a stronger presence in the Force than the others. The winds began to gather in anticipation. One more organic in need of a good eroding…

Were Nancorra capable of determining the specific designation of modern spacecraft technology, it would have noted that this particular vessel was an escape pod bearing codes belonging to parties within the Dark Jedi Brotherhood. And that the “organics” within were a Zabrak and his closest companions. And that the beings pursuing them were not allies.

*****

The air was dry. Not the normal dry when the summer sun beats back the clouds and sweeps away most of the moisture in the air for a week or so. This was another level entirely. The Zabrak lay trying to get his bearings, while with each breath he took the air reached in and dissipated what moisture it could. Though it caused discomfort to do so he continued breathing lest he find himself more akin to a Pantoran in the face than himself.

He was stranded, of that he no doubt. The burning question he came to consider was just where exactly he was on the surface. He whipped his head back and forth in an attempt to jog his memory. He could clearly recall having to abandon the Plagueis frigate he’d been aboard, and the Z-95 Headhunter that had subsequently shot down his escape pod. Again, however, he could not place just where above the planet the pod had ejected towards. He realised he was not standing already and twisted his body to begin the ascent, only to groan in pain as his bruised body complained. He could handle a bit of pain, he was a Zabrak warrior after all, but the true shock came from his mental link with his pet massiffs. It just was not there.

A panicked Kul’tak gripped hard on a piece of pod siding for a bit of support as he probed the gritty sea around him. His fear was confirmed when he spotted two dark brown piles half buried in the shifting sands. Stumbling over to one, he violently scooped the sand and tossed it aside as he pulled the bundle into his arms. It was Shar’kala, his female massiff. He hesitantly checked her vitals, wishing for the best while fearing the worst, but to his relief he found a weak pulse. He carried her to what little shade the torn pod provided then went back out for what could only be Shor’kir, his male massiff. The alpha appeared to be in slightly better condition as his heart beat stronger, but neither showed signs of consciousness. Kul allowed his two hearts to slow their rhythmic staccato and tried to clear his mind. Survival was now the priority.

The Zabrak checked the pod and began rummaging in what appeared to be the remains of the emergency supply bin. Within it should have been the necessary items to survive for a time for whoever happened to be stranded or whatever reason they needed an escape pod for. To Kul’s chagrin, the crash had peeled the walling off in this section, along with most of the supplies. All that was left available to him were his personal items, as well as a sole canteen of water and a few ration bars, and a flare gun with a chambered round. The charred hole that had allowed the wall to be ripped away led Kul to believe the other rounds would not be found. He did seem to recall a blinding flash when they hit the plateau, now that thought about it. Maybe that was why his head was throbbing so much. He took a quick sip of the canteen to wet his throat before forcefully placing it aside. If--*when,* he reminded himself--his massiffs recovered enough to awaken, they would need sustenance. Kul would sooner starve than watch his beloved pets die before his eyes. And to Antei with the consequences. Still...his situation was dire.

*****

Watching the image pulled up before her on her datapad, Kendra Icasta let a slow smile crease the scar on her left cheek. She had been ordered to follow an escape pod that had descended to Nancora’s surface below, and her readings had just informed her that there was a living being that had emerged from its wreckage. She and the rest of the her party of Huntresses had boarded a Collective vessel and followed it down, and now the hunt was worth it. It appeared she might get to have a bit of fun now. The retrofitted LAAT/i gunship her squad was occupying banked down and emerged from the atmosphere. In the distance a plateau rose to challenge the distant tower that was a hub for some of the Technocratic Guild’s scrappers. The pilot zoomed in behind it to provide them cover from the pod survivor’s view, as well as the rising winds.

*****

Kul rolled the flare gun in his hands as he contemplated his situation. What were the odds that someone would fly close enough to see a flare? Even if it was seen, it was more likely that the eyes would belong to someone within the Collective. Not that that bothered him. Confrontation was his specialty, and it would give him a chance to possibly find a way to contact someone in Clan Plagueis. After a few minutes more of bouncing ideas around, the Zabrak checked once again on his massiffs. They still lay silent in their slumber, their leathery hides rising and falling in jerking motions, but otherwise did not stir. If he had to move, it was looking like he’d have to carry them at this rate. That appeared to be his only choice. Sticking the flare gun within the belt of his armor, he gripped midway up his flowing cloak with both hands...and pulled. Against his raw strength the fabric ripped easily enough, and he continued tearing until he had a full swathe of cloth to work with. He fashioned this into a makeshift bag and stuffed the canteen and ration bars inside. The top end he tied to his belt where the interrupted pattern of the silver Krayt dragon embroidered upon it glinted in the sun. He cringed inside at the defecation of such an important symbol to him, but he reminded himself that survival came before pride. He could imagine the bemused look on the face of his fellow beastmaster and ally, Tahiri Drakon, as she scoffed at his expression. She’d have probably already hopped on her Tukata and ridden towards the closest enemy outpost already, throwing him a look of ‘Well, what are you waiting for?’ The thought brought a brief smile to his lips, but it vanished quickly when he realized he heard the roar of an aircraft’s engine. It had to be close for him to hear it over the wind and sand as it scratched everything.

Ducking out from under the pod’s shade revealed to him that the vessel was indeed close. It rested floating above the pod while keeping the plateau on its port side to help block the wind. As Kul emerged he raised a hand to guard his vision as the craft opened its unloading door. He could make out a few figures inside, but the one that grabbed his attention was a Chiss woman with a cybernetic eye. His eyes narrowed as he recognized signs of the Collective, but he crossed his arms and maintained a calm appearance, regardless of being obviously outnumbered. The Chiss grabbed one of the deployable ropes and slid down it to the soft sand below. The others, a mixture of Kiffar and other cybernetically enhanced species, remained on the vessel with blasters and slugthrowers locked onto Kul. She took a few forward steps to get into hearing range, with no regard for the wind pounding her exposed arms and face. Kul rested his right hand over the top of his saber, while his left hid behind his back where he could quickly grab a ryyk blade. Both never took their gazes from each other, two hunters observing potential prey. The winds began to pick up intensity, rocking the vessel above them. If no one made the first move they would both be buried before nightfall. The Chiss spoke first.

“Greetings. On behalf of the Collective I am here to inform you that you are now our prisoner. Surrender peacefully and I will let you live. Long enough for us to find out how deep your knowledge of the Brotherhood goes, in any case.”

Kul’s eyes grew dark as he gave her a hard look.

“I did not come with my clan to Nancora in order to surrender to my enemies.”

Kendra clapped her hands together in elation, and her remaining biological eye glinted with excitement.

“I had a feeling you would say something of the sort. You do not have the look of one who knows fear so easily. A hunter, like myself. We enjoy ending the chase more than leading it. I shall kill you quickly, as one hunter to another.”

As the Chiss began to raise her weapon, a slugthrower that Kul had not even noticed her loosen from her waist, her commlink burst into chatter.

“Huntress, the winds are picking up swiftly. We need to get done here before the ship is dragged down by them.”

As if listening, Nancora’s winds shifted and drove into the exposed side of the LAAT/i. Distracted, the pilot was unprepared for the sudden turbulence and could not correct in time. The vessel screeched as it was dragged across the rocks of the plateau. Its port side repulsor cracked and burst into flame, sending the vessel spinning wildly. A huntress was tossed from the open door, her screams lost in the wind as she crashed into the side of the plateau and fell limply to the sand below. The rest were not so fortunate as the landing craft struck the plateau again and again, the winds unrelenting in their battering of the surface. Finally the metal gave way, and the vessel spun dejectedly to land in on the far side where bodies lie beaten and broken within. Kendra cursed to herself at the misfortune, but quickly shifted back her gaze as her instincts flared.

Kul was no new blood to combat. After years of learning to survive in the harsh climate of Plagueis, he had learned an important lesson: when opportunity presents itself, take it. He did not question the fortune of the winds striking as they did that day, but he did take advantage of the lapse in concentration his would-be captor showed. As soon as her eyes were averted he slipped his lightsaber up and out, but left its blade retracted, while swinging with deadly fury from the left with his ryyk blade. As the metal bore down on her he saw victory in his sights, but a sudden ducking motion taught him that he was against no mere soldier. As she bent low Kendra procured a weapon of her own, a stun baton, and thrust it into Kul’s abdomen. With his momentum and balance working against him now, she had plenty of time to activate the baton’s main function. Electricity pulsed into the Zabrak as he stumbled by her, and his muscles clenched in agony. He dropped to the sand as his mind blanked out of existence for a moment, but his churning hearts allowed him to recover enough to roll and dodge a stabbing heel the Chiss dropped downward.

His anger was now manifesting within him. It was always there, in the recesses of his true self. Though he had tried to temper it with patience, he could not deny the fact that his anger is what made him a strong Sith. With eyes blazing like embers, he rose before the Huntress and planted himself firmly. His vision began to cloud, centered around the sapphire glow of his opponent’s skin tone. His rage locked onto that and allowed it to guide him. He came at her, warrior and predator all at once. His mind registered the report of a slugthrower, and the stinging pain that accompanied it, but he continued to bear down. The rage remembered he had tools that he could use to help defeat this enemy. Glowing fire grew from the cylinder in his right hand. He slashed at the blue form with it, but it dashed away. He followed, only intent on destroying it. His rage screamed for blood, and he would satisfy its clawing hunger. On and on he slashed and punched and kicked at the enemy, but it managed to live a bit longer.

Kendra spun away again as the Zabrak bore down on her. He had become more like a beast than anything, his eyes wild with bloodlust.

*So this is the extent of the Brotherhood and their Force? A pity. I had hoped for more of a challenge.*

As she recovered her balance she slipped her baton back into its sling and exchanged it for a metal whip. With a shake of her arm and a flick of her wrist, the coiled strands flicked out and wrapped themselves around the Zabrak’s throat. A press of a button activated the charge within, engulfing Kul in another torrent of shocking tendrils. He resisted, his rage pushing him through most of the pain, by dropping his weapons and grabbing the whip with both hands. Assured that even he could so easily pry loose the tight cords, her remaining real eye went wide when the empowered Sith pulled the whip with all his might suddenly. The yank picked Kendra up and carried her over his head, where she crashed into the sand next to him. She refused to relinquish her grip on the whip, however, keeping the raw energy pouring into him. She could only watch in fear as Kul towered above her, a hand gripping his second ryyk blade. He raised his hand to bring down the fatal blow. The blade sung in the wind as it fell, aimed directly for her heart. Kendra watched as Kul’s eyes burned crimson, waiting for a moment to strike. When she thought she had her chance, the Zabrak’s gaze suddenly shifted and his eyes rolled back into his head. His body fell to the sand with a weighty thud and a splash of sand. His rage had run as dry as the desert around them.

Cautiously, Kendra poked at the Zabrak with a boot before grabbing at the belt buckle he wore that bore the symbol of Clan Plagueis upon it. She shuffled underneath the cover of the pod’s wreckage and rummaged in the pocket of her garment and pulled out a datapad that had been tucked away. Tuning it to a specific channel, she dialed in and spoke into it.

“Command, Icasta reporting. Tell Field Commander Ordam I have a prisoner he might be interested in. If the intel on the Plagueis scrolls is true…” she held the buckle closer to her cybernetic eye, “...then I have a feeling we’ve found a good lead.”