Malisane Sadow

Elder 1, Clan Naga Sadow, Sith, Dark Jedi
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Welcome Home!
Textual submission

Welcome Home

Kar Alabrek
Tarthos
Orian Space

Malisane stood over his pilot's shoulder in the cockpit as the Deathshead made it's final approach. Below battle raged through the streets of the city surrounding the cathedral. He had not been here much since the completion of the work he had done all those years ago. Possibly an award ceremony at some point or other, he could not recall. It had changed, the cathedral and it's city had an unfortunate habit of being razed and rebuilt numerous times over the years. He idly wondered if given the frequency of this whether it even was the same cathedral? He had not intended to come here now, but with things having quietened on Aeotheran a request had gone out to support the Ragnos summit from it's new Quaestor. He had responded.

“Put us down in that square,” he ordered. His blind miraluka pilot guided the freighter down and the ramp lowered. Malisane ran down it, and then waved and watched as the Lancer rose back up into the air. He looked around him. It was quiet here, though the sounds of battle were nearby as the Ragnos forces made their way across the city, scouring out pockets of resistance. He gripped his scatter gun and made his way across the square towards the sounds of blaster fire.

He turned into a large street and immediately came to face with a group of soldiers, wearing the armour of House Marka Ragnos. At the sight of an armoured figure they raised their blasters. One, with a sergeants insignia on his shoulder, approached, weapon raised. “Identify yourself,” he ordered harshly.
Malisane met the sergeant's gaze through the tinted lenses of his helmet. “Malisane Sadow.”
The sergeant backed off slightly as he hurriedly lowered his weapon and then saluted “Sir!”
“Good, you have heard of me. Where is your Quaestor?”
“At the mobile command centre. I will take you to him, sir, if that is your wish.”
“Do so.”
Malisane followed the soldiers down the street past more Ragnos soldiers. They appeared to be making preparations for an advance and there was evidence of restlessness. Malisane nodded with approval, he liked a willingness to serve and get stuck in amongst the Clan's soldiers. Eventually they reached a squat mobile building and at a quick word from the accompanying sergeant Malisane was ushered quickly inside.

The Ragnos Quaestor was stood looking at a map on a table, alongside a tall verpine figure. Several officers were with them though they stood to attention when the Battlelord entered. Malisane knew both the House and Battleteam leaders, he had served with them during the previous years war with the Collective.
Xolarin turned. “Malisane,” he said by greeting, recognising the familiar armour. “How are things on Aeotheran?”
“Our forces have control of the capital,” he replied, “The Aedile is keeping things together while we assess the nature of Collective infiltration on the wider planet. We have little news from Kel Rasha.”
“I heard about Takagari's departure to join the Overlord,” Xolarin replied, “rumour has it they will choose a new Quaestor soon.”
“So I hear,” Malisane replied with a shrug, “one of the former Consuls probably.”
“Not yourself?” Xolarin asked with a raised eyebrow.
“I seriously doubt it,” Malisane replied scornfully, “I am a servant of the Clan, no more, and no less.”
“I see,” the Quaestor replied.
“So what do you need?” Malisane asked.
Xolarin glanced at Hilgrif. “Were just discussing that. As you can imagine we have many of our members are dispersed with our forces across this city, Mucenic and Markosian City, to strengthen their resolve.
“Sounds sensible,“ Malisane grunted.
The Quaestor nodded. “Unfortunately this has left us short handed here and now a problem has arisen.”
“We have received news of several devices,” the Verpine Battleteam leader added, “any of which will do serious damage to this city, and together...”
“Together they would destroy the city, the cathedral, and a significant part of the surrounding area.” Xolarin added.
Malisane took this in. “So what are you doing?”
“We have the three suspected locations,” Xolarin replied, “Hilgrif and the Night Hawks can move on two of them. We have been loaned an infiltration and demolitions specialist from the Warhost, and I would like you to accompany him to the third location.”
“Which specialist?” Malisane asked.
“Battlelord,” a familiar voice said from the corner of the room.
Malisane turned to see the black armoured clone. “Senth. I have not seen you for several weeks since Seng Karash.
The former Dlarit Advanced Commando nodded. “I was reassigned. We depart in ten minutes.”

Malisane and Senth made their way quietly through the back streets, the clone trooper leading the way. “The collective agents are holding up in a warehouse building,” Senth said quietly over the communicator. “The Ragnos Summit are concerned if they send a larger force in they may trigger the device.”
“And there are three of these?” Malisane asked.
“Possibly, though we can not be sure,” the clone replied, “If it is so then the destruction of one will likely trigger the other two. I hope the Night Hawks succeed.”
“I used to command them,” Malisane replied, “for a short time many years ago. They were good.”
“I hope they still are, “Senth replied, “otherwise we may be dead alongside everything else for miles before we even get a chance.”
“We can not worry about that,” Malisane told him, “we will concentrate on our own mission.”
“It would be a tragedy if the city and cathedral were destroyed.”
A slight smile touched the Sith's lips. “They have been before,” he muttered, “they can be rebuilt.”
“Not this time,” Senth replied, “if your information is correct there will be a crater without anything to rebuild. Of course we would not be there to see it.”
As they proceeded they heard the sound of blaster and artillery fire to the south. “It sounds like the Quaestor is moving out,” Senth observed.
“Good,” Malisane replied, “it will provide a distraction.”
“So long as it does not alarm the enemy too much,” the clone added.

Senth stopped and ducked down in an alleyway. “Our target is that building opposite.”
Malisane followed his gaze. “Guards on the outside, both entrances likely.”
Senth looked up. “I would prefer a roof assault.”
Malisane glanced at him. “You normally do.”
The clone turned to give him what would have been a withering glance had he not been wearing a helmet. “You would prefer to spend a week tunnelling in?”
“Get a move on.”
Senth looked up at the building they were sheltering under. And then with a quick burst of jet fire he quickly ascended, disappearing from view. Malisane took a breath and then grasped the side of the building and quickly dragged himself up, his bulk offset by his strength as he quickly clambered upwards before climbing over the parapet and moving over next to the clone who was watching the target.
Senth glanced at him, and then pointed. A lone guard was stood on the roof of the warehouse, blaster in hand. “I can take him,” the clone said as he readied his blaster carbine.
“If you miss you will not get a second attempt,” Malisane advised.
“If you have a better idea I would be interested.”
Malisane considered it, judging the distance. “Be ready to move.” He raised a hand and focused on the guard.
“Quietly,” Senth hissed.
The guard suddenly raised his hands to his throat gripping it through his armour, as he struggled breath. As the Sith Battlelord intensified his grip the Clone burst across the gap in the roofs with a blast of rocket booster, his arms snaking out as he grabbed the guard and thrust up through a gap in the armour with the sharp needle like blade before lowering him to the ground. A few seconds later Malisane leapt and pushed himself across the gap, landing on the roof slightly louder than the clone commando.

Senth moved over the a panel on the rooftop and knelt. “I can open this.”
“It could be a trap,” Malisane pointed out.
“It could indeed,” the clone replied, “if it is we will never know.”
There was an agonising pause, and then the clone slowly moved the panel back and looked down into the hole. Then he looked back up again.
“Setup?” Malisane asked quickly
“Thirty feel drop. Seven targets. Two previously seen outside front and back door. One by device. Two stood by windows on either side. Two resting and eating.”
“Weapons?”
“Four with rifles, two with side-arms, one by device appears to be unarmed. However he's holding what appears to be a control. Probably a dead man switch.”
Malisane nodded. The former DAC was a trained observer and his assessment was likely to be flawless. “We need to take out the one with the device. The rest are incidental.”
Senth shook his head. “Not if they message the other two cells. We do not know the Night Hawks progress.”
“If there are another two cells,” Malisane argued, “we can only deal with the present situation. Can you drop down on the one with the device?”
Senth shook his head. “No inconveniently they are not directly beneath this hatch. And in any case he only needs a second. Not even that if he just needs to let go.”

Malisane paused for a few seconds and then stood. He began to walk across the roof. “Tell me when I am over him.”
The DAC looked down into the hole, and then up at the Battlelord. “You are planning something insane?”
“Yes.”
Senth sighed and glanced into the hole again. “Another four feet. Okay stop.”
“You are sure?”
“As close as I can tell.”
“Good.” Malisane crouched, There was a hiss as his white bladed saber ignited, and then with a sudden movement he stabbed it down into the roof. With a quick roll of his wrist he widened the hole.
“What are you planning?” the clone asked suspiciously.
“I have seen something attempted like this once. A long time ago. By one more powerful than myself.”
Senth gripped his blaster carbine. “And it worked?”
“No.” Malisane dropped the hilt of his saber into the hole he had cut, and watched it turn end over end as it fell silently through the air towards the man below. Senth ducked his head into the hatch and watched as the tiny object fell and then there was a sudden burst of energy, as the saber ignited once more in an arc that followed the spin of the blade. There was a cry of pain from the man as something slightly larger than the saber hilt flew quickly up into the air to be caught by the Battlelord who had reached one hand through the hole.

“Got it!” Malisane said in triumph as he held the disembodied hand his own, pressing the fingers closed on the switch.
Senth lowered his blaster through the hatch and fired, with one shot hitting the wounded man in the head and sending his corpse sprawling backwards away from the device. As chaos erupted below the commando dropped into the hole, firing as he fell, his jet pack boosters slowing and controlling his descent as his pinpoint shots picked off the guards by the windows. He turned as the two who had been resting got to their feet and began to run towards the device.
At that moment there was an explosion of telekinetic energy and part of the roof collapsed and the armoured battlelord dropped through the air faster than the commando. As the two guards stopped in amazement as he hit the ground hand and rolled, Malisane raised his scattergun and fired. He was not as precise a shot at the clone commando but he did not need to be. Dozens of pellets hit them, smashing through their armour and knocking them backwards bleeding from multiple impact wounds.

Malisane's hand reached out and his discarded saber flipped into his grip. Senth landed and shot the guard at the front entrance when he burst into the room, blaster raised. Malisane leapt forward to meet the rear guard and cut him savagely down. “The device!” Malisane quickly ordered.
Senth did not need to be told. He was already making for it, removing his helmet as he quickly took a device from his belt and began to work.
“Well?” Malisane demanded as Senth busied himself with the device.
“Quiet!” the clone snapped as he focused.
Malisane stood quietly watching him as the clone worked silently. The Sith had faced death many times. It had been one explosion he himself had caused that had wrecked his body and nearly killed him, all those years ago. This one likely he would not even have time to react, as possibly nor would anyone else in the surrounding area. And this was potentially one of three. Even if the clone succeeded they could still be dead in seconds.
“Done,” Senth said taking a deep breath.
“You are sure?” Malisane demanded.
Senth nodded. He raised a communicator. “Quaestor, this is Lieutenant Colonel Senth. Objective secured.” There was a pause and a crackling sound. “Sorry, did not receive message clearly. What was that about the Night Hawks?”

THE END.

Competition
Scurvy
Textual submission

Scurvy - Malisane Sadow 6169

Slowly he opened his eyes. He was hungry. He turned his head to the left and stared at the blank metal walls, and then rotated it to regard the equally featureless right. He tried to angle his body upwards to look ahead but the restraints holding his arms in place restricted that. He lay back looking up at the dull light shiny down on him and closed his eyes again, the black lenses sliding over them. He listened and reached out with his limited force senses. There was only silence and he could not feel anything around him. That was unusual, for the past few days between them gassing him he had heard the hum of machinery and the rattle of the ventilation pipes, and occasional footsteps followed by the door opening and the black armoured guards entering to stare at him before spoon feeding him the thick, grey and flavourless liquid that counted as food here. Now their absence was clearly noticeable.

He took a deep breath. “Hey!” he shouted. He waited. They ought to be able to hear him if they were listening, the cell was constantly monitored from the camera he knew was pointed at his bed. They had made it clear when they had brought here. “I know you can hear me!” He waited for a few more seconds. This was not right. In the first few days of his captivity the slightest appearance of movement or resistance had brought the guards with their sedatives and blunt weapons which depending on their mood lead to a drug or trauma induced unconsciousness. By now they should have been bursting into the cell. As a further test he began to rattle his wrists and ankles against the restraints, creating a loud jangling noise. Finally he stopped. Was this a test of their own to see what he would do?

He waited for a few more moments and considered his options. He could stay here and try and sleep or wait for them to give up whatever game they were playing if that was the case. Or he could try and escape and see what happened. The worse scenario of the latter was another sedative or beating. He could live with that, probably. In either case he had nothing to loose. He still had no idea why he was here or what they intended for him, whoever they were. He raised his wrists a little testing them against the restraints. They were made of a thin metal, but despite their thinness they felt quite secure. He took a deep breath and focused, and then pushed upwards as hard as he could with his arms, but the restraints held. He sagged back down. He was weaker than usual, partly due to the sedatives or the diet they had fed him. Taking a deep breath he closed his eyes, focusing with the force. After a few seconds there was a satisfying metallic snap, closely followed by three others. Cautiously he raised his arms, and then got to his feet, slowly manoeuvring himself off the metallic bed.

He looked around him, glancing up at the camera above him which was stationary. After a few seconds he turned to the door and walked towards it. He felt it's smooth surface and then moved to the edge, and was surprised to find a slight gap. He took a breath and pushed his fingertips into the gap, before planting his feet and beginning to pull. The door slid aside with a slight grating sound. He frowned. He could not understand why was it even unlocked. He opened it a little more and stuck his head out. Either side of the door was a blank metal corridor. It was empty and like his cell silent. He slowly pulled the door further open and walked out as quietly as he could manage. Unsure of which direction to head on he went left, making his way slowly along the corridor. There was a strange warmth in the air, bearable but uncomfortable. He continued to walk his body tensed as the numbness he had felt on the bed began to wear away. He came to the end of the corridor to reach another metal door. This was also unlocked with a handle he used to pull it open. Slowly he entered the room beyond.

He looked around suspiciously. It appeared to be some sort of small mess hall and had odd signs of recent abandonment. Several metal dishes stil lay on the table containing a browl rice substance, and when he walked over and inserted a finger in one it was still warm, though that might have been the room temperature. He picked up the plate and began to eat with his fingers. It was not well cooked but after the diet he had been fed it was an improvement. Thoughts raced through his mind. What he had suspected to be a trick of some sort was now looking more like an abandonment. Why? He picked up a half drunk container of liquid and knocked it back. It was also warm and slightly sickly but it quenched his thirst a little. Finishing the rice substance he put the plate back down and picked up a knife discarded on the table. It was small and quite blunt but it was a weapon at least. Slowly with a glance around the room he made for the opposite door to the one he had entered.

The next corridor was as quiet and featureless as the last one. The temperature was slightly warmer here and he sensed he was moving forward. He pulled the door at the end open and walked cautiously through it, his blunt knife held in one hand. The flight deck was also empty. He walked forward and then stopped, a cold feeling passing through him despite the heat. At the other end were two chairs in front of terminals that were mostly dark except for a few dull lights that suggested the vessel was running on minimum power. Above the terminal was a large viewscreen and filling most of it was an even larger yellow sun.

Slowly he made his way forward and sat at one of the terminals, studying the controls. He was not much of a pilot, certainly not as good as he used to be but he was familiar with basic ship controls. He flicked a few switches and was dismayed by their lack of response. The navigation system was
locked out, whether purposefully or through failure he could not tell. He suspected the latter, it fitted into place like the last piece of the puzzle he had been trying to figure out since he had regained consciousness. If his captors had abandoned their ship in the face of the sun ahead then he would guess they had been unable to do otherwise. He flicked another few switches that should have brought up a display of the ships status and this was also unresponsive. Finally he tried everything in front of him and the best result he obtained was a slight flicker of the remaining dull lights.

He got to his feet, his mind racing. The situation did not look promising. Without the ship's computer he had no way of judging how close he was to the sun or the rate at which it's gravity was pulling the ship towards it. He looked around the rest of the flight deck. There were a couple of cupboards that were open and empty, presumably their contents taken by the evacuated crew. After a few moments he turned and walked back off the flight deck, heading back the way he had come.

As he walked out of the canteen and past his cell he was considering his options. He could not reverse or steer the ship away from the sun. He clearly only had a limited time before they temperature on board the ship was past his tolerance and he had no obvious way of leaving, so far at least. There had to be a way off the ship somehow, given the crews disappearance, a hangar or escape pods. He just had to find them and hope they gave him an option.

Just beyond his cell was another door. Curiously he pulled it open and entered. It was a dark storage room, one dull red light illuminating it. The shelves were half empty, presumably the more valuable items had been taken by the escaping crew. Looking for something that might be of use he searched several boxes. They contained a mixture of dried food and bottled water, random cables and tools, stationary and crockery, and a couple of tanks of a gas, the identity of which appeared to be written in a foreign language. The tools might be of use, the rest probably were not. After a few moments he turned and left, heading back along the corridor.

When he finally reached the docking bay he examined his surroundings. There were several discarded crates that either had not been a priority or had not fitted in whatever vessel the crew had departed on. The large doors at the other end were shut and he wandered over to examine them. There was a panel next to them that was palm sized and he guessed that this operated the emergency release. He guessed he would be unable to operate this as he would not be on the crew's list of registered users, but was unwilling to experiment with it in case it actually did open and blasted him out into space to a certain and fairly rapid but unpleasant death. He turned and stopped in surprise. At the other end of the bay near the door behind two of the crates he could make out a space suit. He quickly walked over and knelt by it. The suit seemed in good condition and a check of the oxygen supply showed it to be three quarters full, probably good for about eight or nine hours of breathing. Whether it was any use in his present situation was unclear. He gave it a few minutes thought then headed back to the main corridor.

Turning left at a junction he came upon the ships medical bay, which oddly bore a strong resemblance to his cell, including the bench in the middle with the same restraints. Like his own this was also occupied, though in this case the occupant was definitely dead. He moved closer and examined the corpse. He was not medically trained but could not identify any signs of injury or serious disease, though from the uniform it appeared to be a member of the crew. He had been a middle aged male human, about five foot eight tall and average build. He was not wearing any identification tags or bracelets and there was no indication of why they had been left behind during the evacuation, either to avoid contamination or to save space. Looking around the room there were a series of medical instruments and tools, some obvious like saws and scalpels, others that were more of a complex or intimate nature. There appeared to be nothing of any obvious use.

With no much else to do he returned to the bridge, collecting a bottle of now warm water en route from the stores. The air was warmer now and the star in front of him seemed a little larger. At his current rate he guessed he had maybe a few hours left before the temperature increased to an intolerable level, leaving aside how much oxygen he may or may not have left. At the moment his death seemed fairly assured. He felt oddly calm. He had faced it many times, admittedly with a chance of survival, but even when the situation seemed at it's darkest a solution usually presented itself. He had to admit at the moment though he was fairly stumped.

He sat down in a chair and sipped the water, considering his options. Firstly, he had to get off the ship. Secondly he had to do so in a way that he could survive. Thirdly then had to find a way back to civilisation. He took a mental inventory of his assets. He had a space suit, admittedly with a limited air supply, some tools, some gas of an unspecified nature, food and a corpse. Slowly a plan began to form in his mind. Sipping his water he got to his feet and began to walk back towards the rear of the ship.

It had taken about ten minutes of assembling his plan, made harder by the fact his breathing was becoming more ragged with the thinning air supply and the now dry heat on the ship. He felt a little comfier now though with the helmet of the space suit over his head. The panel on the front was still open though, he wanted to close it at the last minute. Slowly he walked forward, the suit made heavier with the gas cannisters strapped to him held in place with the cables he had found. He reached the bay doors and took a deep breath, and then raised the long handle of the broom and glanced at the severed hand that he had nailed to it's end. Taking a deep breath he brought it forward and then pushed the palm of the hand against the panel as he closed his helmets visor.

He felt an impact as the force of the escaping air from the opening doors blasted him out into space, sending his suited body spinning end over end away from the vessel, his rapid rotation occasionally bringing it into view on each cycle as it and the burning sun beyond moved further away from him. So far so good. His momentum begun to steady out after a few seconds and he felt himself begun to slow, as the gravity of the sun began to match his escape speed. Hoping for the best his hands went to the bottom of the cannisters and turned the release wheels, feeling a gratifying surge again as the escaping pressurised gas propelled him forward again.

As he began to drift away from the sun now he felt it's heat slightly decreasing. He reached down and found the controls on the suit. There was a small beacon fitted into it, presumably in case the wearer somehow managed to accidentally propel themselves into space like he had. He did not know how strong it was or how long it would last but with nothing to loose he activated it. He still estimated his air supply at the original eight hours or so. He had one option remaining. Slowly he began to calm himself and slip his body into a preserving meditation trance. As he felt himself begin to calm and his pulse slow and his breathing lessen he gave one last glance at the empty space around him. He had a slim chance, but it was still a chance. Reassured by this he closed his eyes and waited.

Competition
[Naga Sadow]The Return of Old Gods
Textual submission

Manually added by Warlord Bentre Kairn'tel Sadow

Competition
[VOICE] Harmonic Growth
File submission
Harmonic Growth.doc
Competition
Nightmares and Dreamscapes
Textual submission

Nightmares & Dreamscapes

Research Site
Planet Morak

Sergeant Lorgan sat making the final checks to her equipment as the shuttle made it's final approach towards the planets surface. She looked up at the platoon who were doing likewise. She stood up from his place on the benches either side of the cabin. “Alright boys and girls this is it. We make landfall and move out. This might be nothing or it might be something serious. Either way we remember we're the best platoon in the best company in the Warhost. Do you hear me?”
“Yes ma'am!” they responded.
“Officer on deck,” Lorgan announced as she stood and saluted, the other eighteen members of the platoon doing likewise.
The officer in question was Lieutenant Treger. Twenty years old and determined to prove himself in what was his first solo command. “At ease,” he said as clearly as possible and waited until they sat down again. “Okay platoon here is the situation. We are inbound to the planet Morak to investigate why our research station has gone quiet. The last communication we had from them was five days ago and reported normally. It is entirely possible they have a communications problem they have been able to fix. If that is the case we will lend any assistance possible to get them back online. If however it is not that simple then we will do whatever is necessary to determine what and resolve the situation.”
“Whatever that may be,” a voice said from the corner of the cabin. An armoured figure was stood leant against the wall, swaddled in a black cloak. He had drawn curious glances from the platoon when he had unexpectedly boarded as they departed the ISD Perdition. After a quick conversation with the officer and the sergeant he had withdrawn to quiet corner of the shuttle and rebuffed all attempts at conversation. Now he detached himself and walked calmly to the centre of the cabin. “Listen to me all of you. I am Malisane Sadow, some of you may have heard of me.” The sudden serious reaction around the room indicated they had. “The Morak research site is of extreme interest to the Clan we serve. As your officer and your NCO have indicated the fact it has gone quiet is a matter of concern to us. The nature of the work being done here is not your concern, only that it is of the highest secrecy. I am here to ensure the security of this mission. Anything you find out of the ordinary you will report to your lieutenant, sergeant or myself. Anything you see you will not share with anyone outside this platoon until you are debriefed. . The consequences for doing otherwise will be grave.”
“I am sure we all understand that do don't we?” Sergeant Lorgan asked loudly.
“Yes sergeant!” the platoon responded.
Lorgan glanced over at a right light which had begun to flash. “Alright this is it.”

The shuttle landed and immediately the platoon disembarked, forming into squads. At an order from the sergeant four of the troopers moved into position flanking the ramp. The rest of the platoon made their way across the rocky ground towards a squat fabricated building fifty metres away. Malisane walked beside the lieutenant as the sun shone down on the approaching building, the metal glinting in the light. Ahead of them Sergeant Lorgan lead the way, looking to her left to her left at a trooper who was carrying a scanner, concentrating on it. Malisane heard the trooper say something to the sergeant who raised her voice, “No signs of life in the immediate area sir,” she advised, “and no sign of power from the building either.”
Lieutenant Treger nodded and glanced at the Sith who appeared unphased by the news. “Ok we proceed with caution, sergeant send a squad in to investigate and secure the perimeter building.”
“You heard the lieutenant,” Lorgan said loudly, “A squad proceed on target. B and D Squad circle the perimeter and report anything.”
Cautiously holding their rifles ready the squad of four troopers approached the building. One of them placed a hand on the panel next to the door. There was no response. Carefully with his squad members ready he tried the door which slid open as he pulled it. Immediately a light illuminated on his blaster rifle and helmet as the squad entered the building. Malisane and Treger waited while Sergeant Lorgan listened to her communicator. After a few seconds she turned. “It's secure but they've found something sir.”

Leaving the remaining squad outside the officer, the NCO and the Sith made their way inside, turning on their own lights. Inside the entrance to the building was dark, and the area was quiet except for their footsteps. Malisane's display flashed as he looked round the room and regarded the trooper who was crouched next to a mass which was clearly a body. “There are more in here,” another trooper reported from a nearby room. Malisane joined the trooper. The corpse was wearing the armour of the Warhost, similar to the troopers with them. The surface of the chest was ripped, leaving a long tear in the metal covered in dried blood which had pooled out onto the floor. Malisane felt an unusual unsettled feeling. He stood and walked into the nearby room. It was a laboratory. One of the troopers was assembling a more powerful light from his backpack which eventually illuminated the room in a soft light. It was a laboratory, with several benches around the room and a large machine at one end and several cabinets. Another trooper was examining a white suited body on the floor whose clothing was soaked with blood, while another dead trooper lay by the machine.
“There's more in the personnel quarters,” Lieutenant Treger said quietly as he entered the room. “All ours, all deceased and they've all been ripped by someone or something.” Malisane could feel fear and queasiness radiating off the young officer.
“Anything else?”
“The generator has been smashed,” Treger replied, “the sergeant is assessing the nature of the damage but she says it doesn't look good.”
Malisane crouched by the body of the second trooper. He picked up the blaster rifle held in the corpse's hand and examined it, then glanced at the wall. “He was shooting at something,” the Sith mused as his gaze tracked around to the wall, “the shots were erratic whatever he shot was moving quickly.”
Treger nodded. “It looks like it yes. We should secure this building then report back. With the power down here that means the shuttle.”
Malisane stood. “Very well.”

Back on the shuttle Lieutenant Vorcer sat in the pilot's chair. She was reading a datapad calmly while her co pilot was in the back making drinks in the tiny galley. She thumbed the communicator to she troopers stood outside. “Anything going on out there?”
“Negative ma'am,” the reply came back, “all quiet.”
“Very well,” she replied. She turned her head. “Is it coming Drack?”
“Nearly ready ma'am,” the co pilot replied, “you like it strong.”
“Yeah make sure it is,” she replied back in a mock stern voice.
“Affirmative ma'am.”
She smiled as she sat back. After a few seconds she hit the communicator again. “Hey do you guys want some refreshments out there?” she asked. She paused listening. “Hey can you hear me?” She frowned studying the display. “Drack the comms might be playing up again, get in here.” She waited again. “Drack!” She pushed herself out of the chair and turned. Then she froze in horror at what was in front of her. Then she felt a brief second of agony as claws pierced her chest.

Malisane waited outside the building while the sergeant was giving orders to her troopers. “A Squad remain in the building keep working on the generator. D Squad secure the exterior. I want regular reports. B and C with us.”
Treger was also waiting. “Alright with us. Keep your eyes peeled. Whoever did this might be long gone or they may be around. Once we've reported back we'll make a wider search.
Malisane could still feel the lieutenant's nervousness, which was also radiating to a lesser extent off the other troopers. He felt an apprehension himself, an emotion he was not used to. There was something familiar about all of this. He followed the officer and the NCO as the two squads fanned out either side of them, studying the empty rocky landscape for signs of life. Treger was on the communicator. “Lieutenant Vorcer, this is Lieutenant Treger we are returning. Please prepare for a transmission back to the fleet.” He paused. “Please come in Vorcer.” There was still no reply. He turned to the Sergeant who had stopped. “This is damn peculiar.”
Sergeant Lorgan was looking ahead suspiciously at the shuttle. “E Squad should be outside. Where the hell are they?” She clicked her communicator. “Lorgan to E Squad, why aren't you at your posts?” After a few seconds of silence she raised her voice. “Gormer, Arnock, any of you, report.”
“There's something here,” Treger said quietly.
Malisane focused. “I can not feel anything ahead.”
“Scanner,” the sergeant snapped at one of her troopers.
“Negative sergeant,” the trooper replied, “no movement, no sign of life.” He made an adjustment. “And no power signals sergeant.”
“The hell,” she muttered. She glanced at the lieutenant who was staring at the quiet ship, it's ramp still down. “D Squad anything at your end?”
“All quiet sergeant.”
“Proceed cautiously,” Treger ordered.
“Just as the lieutenant says,” the sergeant ordered, “keep them peeled.” Slowly the three of them moved forward, one of the squads moving in front of them and the other splitting to flank them.

Malisane could sense something faint now, something unnatural. He drew his sword, gripping it as he followed the troopers, trying to make sense of what he could feel. “Blood here,” a trooper reported near the ramp, “lots of it, leading inside.”
Lorgan looked up the ramp, her rifle aimed inside. “They're in there.”
“But what?” the Lieutenant asked nervously.
“There is only one way to find out.” Malisane watched as the Sergeant lead a squad inside. He was still trying to sense what was in there. Then he heard the familiar sound of blasters firing and he made for the ramp quickly, sword raised. Then something hit him, a grey shape that smashed him out of the way as it bounded past, sending him crashing to the rocky floor and his sword tumbling from his fingers. Two troopers fired and blaster bolts scorched flesh before it was amongst them, lashing out with it's long arms and claws rending through flesh. Malisane quickly rolled to his feet, his hand going to his lightsaber and igniting it as he could hear more blaster fire as the troopers from outside the building nearby began to run forward, shooting. He looked around and saw a grey flash as whatever was there leapt onto the roof of the shuttle. The Sith moved quickly to follow, turning to try and follow it's movement and then he froze.

From on top of the upper wing of the shuttle something perched. Malisane stood holding his saber in his hand as he looked up at it. “Not here,” he murmured, “it can't be.” Slowly the reptilian eyes moved from the approaching troopers to focus on the Sith and they slowly narrowed in recognition. Then it leapt. Malisane stood frozen as the grey shape dropped towards him, his vision absorbing every familiar feature as the grey scaled reptilian filled his vision before he moved by instinct alone, leaping aside creature slashed at him, claws tearing his cloak as it swirled behind him. The creature landed and leapt again as Malisane swung the saber towards it, slicing the blade along the skin but not piercing. Blaster bolts hit the creature as it landed knocking it forward slightly but glancing off the scaled flesh. The creature turned as the troopers reached it and fired. Malisane watched, emotion raging through him, watching it leapt towards them with a morbid fascination. Then he felt a hand grip his own, dragging him. He vision snapped around as he saw the armoured figure of Lieutenant Treger. “We must retreat.”
Malisane raged with emotions. He ran from nothing, he had faced all the Clan's enemies alone or alongside his fellows with confidence or a determination not to back down in the face of even overwhelming odds. But this was something else. He turned and with the Lieutenant ran up the ramp, two troopers firing at the creature as they followed. As it moved for them Malisane lashed out with the force, smashing it as hard as he could at the creatures chest sending it sprawling backwards. “Emergency lock,” he shouted and one of the troopers wrenched a lever on the wall, and the mechanism dragged the ramp up, closing it with a loud clash of metal. Malisane fell back against the metal wall, his heart racing. Then slowly he sank to the floor, pulling off his helmet as he gasped for air. He rested his head against the wall staring at the wall opposite, his heart racing in his chest and the smell of blood in his nostrils sickening.

Lieutenant Treger looked around the dark cabin, his light ignited again. The floor was covered in bodies, only this time these were his own troopers. He heard a groan and moved quickly forward. Sergeant Lordan was slumped on the floor clutching her side, her helmet removed revealing her pale face shrouded by short dark hair. “Sergeant are you alright?”
“Just a scratch sir,” she replied weakly.
“Check the cockpit,” Treger ordered loudly as he moved her hands and examined the wound under the torn metal. “It doesn't look too bad if we can patch you up you should be alright.” One of the troopers knelt by her with a medikit.
“As I said just a scratch sir,” she replied, “I was the lucky one.”
“Lieutenant Vorcer and the co pilot are dead sir,” the other trooper reported, “and the controls are smashed, as is the power generator.”
Treger removed his own helmet, wiping a hand over his face. “Who do we have left? What about A Squad? Did they leave the building.” He clicked his communicator. “A Squad, come in A Squad. This is Lieutenant Treger, report.”
There was a crackle then, “Here sir, we're still inside. The generator is fried we can't reactivate it. Do you want us to report back?”
“Negative. There is an unknown hostile outside. Barricade yourselves inside as possible and await orders.”
“Affirmative sir, wait sir there's..” The sound of blaster fire came over the communicator and then silence.
“Are you there?” Treger demanded. A Squad, report!”
“They're dead sir,” Sergeant Lordan told him weakly. “What the hell is that thing?”
“It's called Firak,” a voice replied quietly.

They turned to the Sith who was sat quietly on the floor, his scarred and damaged features studying them.
“You know that creature?” the Lieutenant demanded.
Malisane shut his eyes, integral black lenses covering them beneath where his eyelids had been. “A long time ago I was a young Imperial officer, not much older than you. I was sent to lead a force to investigate a group of rogue scientists who were hiding on a remote planet. To protect themselves they had set up multiple defences, highly sophisticated. And something else they called Project Firak, that creature, designed to defend from or hunt force users. Strong, fast, intelligent and highly resistant to weapons and the force. As far as we can determine it killed them when we got there we found an empty facility and that creature. It wiped out most of my force before I ordered a heavy weapons strike trapping and killing it in a building. Or so I thought.”
The sergeant raised her head. “I'm guessing not.”
“No. A decade later it turned up in the Orian system. How we do not know we think it stowed away on a ship. We encountered it on the planet Aeotheran when we were infiltrating a group of terrorists and we fought it and once again we failed to kill it though we lost several members. It has turned up several times since with fatal results and each time we have driven it off but we can not put the thing down.”
“So what is it doing here?” the Lieutenant demanded.
The lenses retracted. “I have no idea.”

The Lieutenant thought for a few moments. “It's obvious we can't stop that thing, but it shouldn't be able to get in here. Procedure dictates if we do not contact command in forty eight hours they will send a company strength rescue party. They ought to be able to handle it.”
“That will not help Lieutenant,” Sergeant Lordan replied weakly, propping herself up on her elbows, “the power is off. That means the oxygenerator is also off. With the ship sealed that means we have the air we came in with. We'll have suffocated before they even realised we were missing.”
Treger glanced at Malisane. “So what are our options?”
Malisane did not answer. His eyes were fixed on the metal floor in front of him. What could beat the creature. He had seen it shot, sabered, blown up and it healed and kept coming. If he had a party of strong Clan members he had a hope. With himself, four troopers one of which was injured and no heavy weapons what hope did he have? But his other option was to sit here and die a cowards death. That was against every instinct in his body. Finally he stood up. “I will not die like this. What weapons do we have?”
“There are explosives in the munitions cabinet,” the Sergeant replied.
“Show me.”

The creature crouched on a rock patiently, watching the shuttle. It could sense the force user inside, and the others as a weaker presence. Hatred surged through it. It studied the ship in front of it, memories of similar technology flicking through it's memory as it looked for a weakness that would allow it in to find it's prey and kill. Then it tensed as it saw movement in front of it. With a metallic clang the ramp dropped quickly. Firak tensed as it sensed the force user and slowly the figure walked down the ramp and the preys head turned towards the creature as their gazes met. It flexed it's limbs waiting for the moment to strike, and then it stopped, it's reptilian eyes flickering over the figure, recognising the devices strapped over the body.

Malisane looked up at the creature slowly, resisting the urge to run back into the shuttle. He would not run. Gripping the device in his hand he slowly began to walk towards the rock it perched on, hearing the ramp shut behind him as the Lieutenant and the remaining troopers winched it back up. Firak's eyes bored into him and he could sense the indecision it must feel, between the urge to kill it's prey and it's preservation instinct. He knew the creature was assessing the situation in it's reptilian brain, looking for an opening. Slowly he walked forward, moving a hand down to one of the explosive packages strapped to his chest and unclipped it. He saw the creatures eyes move to the hand watching it as slowly he drew it back. The battlelord tensed himself, and then threw the package. The explosive bounced onto the rock and then exploded, sending debris flying into the air as the creature leapt backwards, seeming to almost somersault in the air before landing smoothly. It growled at him, and began to slowly circle him. Malisane kept an eye on the creature as he gripped another package, still holding the detonator in his left hand. He began moving slowly away from the creature and the ship, keeping an eye on Firak's movements. The creature followed him, ready to move again if he threw.

Slowly the ramp lowered again and Lieutenant Treger looked out. He gestured to the troopers behind him, and slowly they made their way down the ramp, Sergeant Lordan doing her best to ignore her bandaged wounded side as the pain drugs did their work. Each gripped their rifles as they made their way across the ground, keeping their movements subtle. The creature's eyes flicked to them, judging them for any hostile intent, before they flicked back to the battlelord. At that moment Malisane threw the second explosive, and then broke into a quick jog. As the creature leapt the four troopers quickly broke into a run. Firak emerged from the explosion unscathed as it bound away, it's eyes moving from the lone Sith to the troopers as they made for the building nearby. It focused on the Sith who suddenly turned as it padded after him, then stopped again. Malisane kept his gaze fixed on the creature as out of the corner of his eye he saw the troopers make the building and head inside.

Malisane kept backing off, watching the creature as it followed him. He was becoming increasingly concerned, sweat rolling down his burned flesh beneath the armour. He was alone now. He could die at any moment. He had provoked the creature enough to possibly overide it's survival instinct. The creature was tough and resilient. The explosives on him would probably kill it if it leapt at him, but perhaps not. He was aware of it's regenerative abilities. There was no doubt though they would kill him, preferably before the claws did. He moved slowly backward, his gaze daring it to leap. It followed. Malisane stood facing it for a few seconds. Slowly he removed his helmet, meeting the creatures reptilian eyes with his own. He began to edge forward, his free hand now reaching for his saber hilt. “Come on then you think I'm afraid of you?” he demanded. He raised the blade and ignited it, holding it in one hand. “What are you waiting for?”
Firak opened it's maw, showing it's fangs that glistened with dripping saliva. Then it leapt as Malisane sliced out with his saber in one hand. He felt the creature hit him and drove his blade into it's chest as his other hand pushed the detonator button and everything went quiet.

Lieutenant Tregor stood to attention as the superior officer studied him him. Around then armoured Warhost troopers were moving out to secure the nearby building. Lieutenant Colonel Senth of the Warhost regarded the scene and then his junior officer. “So you do not know what the creature was Lieutenant?”
“No sir. Following the initial attack we managed to secure ourself in the shuttle and restore partial power. I had no other communication from the rest of my platoon. Only myself, Corporal Myer and Trooper First Class Devar survived, Sergeant Lordan did not regain consciousness sir and died this morning. I accept full responsibility sir.”
Senth considered this, the clone had his own suspicions of the nature of the creature but was not about to share them with the junior officer. So far the searches had found nothing. “The enquiry will determine fault Lieutenant.”
Treger nodded. “I understand sir.”
“And the Battlelord.?
“Inside sir.”
Senth nodded. “Show me.”

They walked inside the smaller shuttle, pausing as two troopers carried a corpse out on a stretcher and towards the larger troop ship the reinforcements had arrived in. Senth looked around the small bloody cabin, and finally crouched down next to the cloaked figure leaned against the wall. The Sith's eyes were glazed, and his arms crossed holding his saber hilt clutched to his chest. “How long has he been like this?”
“Since we sealed ourselves in sir. We have not been able to get a response from him.”
The clone officer reached down and touched the Battlelords hand and tried to prise the fingers apart. “He should not be left with this.”
“We tried that as well sir. We could not remove his grip.”
Senth stood. “The medics will manage to get it from him, if necessary by breaking his fingers.”
He turned as two more troopers entered carrying another stretcher. “Be careful with him, for your own safety as much as anyone else's.”
“Yes sir.”
Senth turned back to Tregor. “You will be escorted to the transport under guard. Do not speak to anyone until I arrive.”
“Yes sir.”

The troopers continued to search the area, while others were removing equipment and samples from the abandoned medical building and carrying them towards the large transport. Above them on a rocky outcrop something crouched on a rock. It watched all beneath itself assessing the numbers in it's reptilian brain. This was not the time, there would be another.

Competition
Defining Moments - Aspects
Textual submission

Defining Moments – The Ghoul

Usharak Keep
Planet Kangaras

The YT1300 freighter touched down in the centre of the clearing in front of the keep. After a few moments the ramp slid down and a robed figure left. She drew back her cloak and looked up at the structure in front of her. Preserved down through the ages by what was now unknown methods, the keep was largely in tact and the metal gate at the front of its dark grey walls looked solid. Slowly she made her way forward, looking for signs of life. Clan Naga Sadow had once had a base here, and before that the True Brotherhood had made it's home here, but that was long ago. Now it was mostly forgotten by both members of Clan and Brotherhood alike.
She paused, sensing something unnatural in the force and looked around her at the jungle that surrounded the clearing. With the amount of life around her it was hard to discern exactly what it was. Then suddenly her hand went for her lightsaber as many red dots covered her body, moving like insects across her robes increasing in number. Slowly she saw a number of small, dark furred creatures emerge from the trees and undergrowth around her, making their way towards her with blasters raised, their dark shining eyes boring into her with a combination of menace and curiosity. She kept her hand on her saber hilt for a second, and then slowly released her grip and raised both. She glanced over at the sound of a metallic grating noise as the metal gate began to rise, and from beneath it another black robed figure strode. He stopped, taking in view of her, her ship, and the Sith-spawned ewoks holding both prisoner.

“Get these creatures away from me!” Ashia told him harshly.
Malisane looked around and calmly raised a hand, then made a gesture. Slowly and still watching the Pro Consul suspiciously, the ewoks backed off into the trees, and after a few seconds were gone. “There you go,” he replied quietly.
She did her best to contain her anger, “Those aberrations should have been destroyed years ago.”
The Battelord shrugged, “Many demanded that be so but sense prevailed. They have served their purpose over the years. And like this planet and myself for a time they have passed from the Brotherhood's consciousness.”
He turned and led her through the gate. “Why here?” she asked as they passed through into the hall, where torches illuminated the dark stone.
Malisane glanced back at her, “You wanted somewhere private, this is private. Even I have not been back here for a decade.”
He lead her to a small room off the hallway where a pair of chairs sat in front of a burning fire. The room was clean which surprised her. Two glasses and a bottle sat on a small table. “The ewoks maintain the keep even if we are gone. I suspect they will continue down through the centuries until someone stops them. Even I do not understand their behaviour sometimes.” He removed his helmet as he sat down, revealing his burned and disfigured features.
Ashia was used to them after all the years since his accident. “I see,” she replied taking an offered glass once he had poured. A smooth taste followed by a burning sensation in her throat and a shock surging through her body revealed it to be the nearly lethal liquor brewed by the ewoks themselves.
“So why the secret meeting Pro Consul?” Malisane asked.
Ashia studied him as she took another sip. “The Summit have a task we would like you to undertake.”
“I see. So why the secrecy?”
She studied him. “This task is of a,” she paused, “delicate nature.”
“They usually are,” he replied, “the Summit never asks me to do anything straightforward.”
“This is more delicate than normal.”

She glanced at the fire, then back at him. “You missed the Dark Crusade did you not?”
“You already know the answer to that question.”
“Yes,” she replied, “and no doubt you have read the accounts and heard the stories?”
“Obviously.”
She reached down and poured herself another glass then sipped it. “How can I put this? You've been in enough wars over the years to know that beyond the official accounts other things happen that were judged to be acceptable at the time but later would be seen as less so.”
Malisane's eyes met hers, occasionally blinking with his dark embedded lenses. “I sense there is a point coming somewhere in the future.”
She scowled. “Very well. During the Crusade Clan Naga Sadow used certain strategies against the Jedi, against the other Clans, and against anyone else the leadership thought would hamper its efforts and its goals. They were subtle, they were carried out across a wide number of units so that no pattern would emerge, and for the best part no one put together the pieces.”
“We are a Sith clan,” he replied, “I do not see a problem?”
“The nature of what was done exceeds simple intrigue. As you know the Clan has conducted a lot of research over the years, and have gained a lot more from organisations and people we have encountered in the past and developed. Most of it is not known to the wider Brotherhood or indeed many of our own Clan.”
“I see,” Malisane replied, “I am aware of some of it.”
“What was done during the war was the work of various older factions in the Clan that are for the best part no longer present. And the current Summit did not find out until recently the extent of what was done. And the likely future consequences.”
The Battlelord considered this. “I'm still not seeing the point?”

She took another sip. “If this were to come out it would greatly damage the Clan in the wider Brotherhood, perhaps even amongst our own members. The Brotherhood is not what it was when you left, it is now a finer balance than before amongst the Light and Dark side of the force, and following the recent war our star is in its ascendency. If the truth were to become known we can only guess what the reaction would be.”
“So make sure it does not.”
“We tried. Unfortunately we have learned that the Inquisitorious have obtained evidence that we would struggle to counter.”
“I see,” he replied again, “so what now?”
“We have a stroke of luck,” she told him, “to contain the information across even their own ranks until they have investigated it their leaders have decided not to transmit it over the AIN. Instead the data is being held under guard in a small facility until it can be collected and handed over to their Director and the Voice. This is where you come in.”
Malisane's eyes bore into her own. “And how exactly do I come in?”
“You are to go to the facility, retrieve the data and destroy any evidence by whatever means necessary.”
“You want me to raid the Inquisitorious?”
“We do,” she replied, “I can not begin to describe how vital this is to our Clan.” She took another drink of the firey liquor. “We have decided that you are our best option.”
“Why?”
“There are several reasons. You have no friends or allies in the Clan or elsewhere in the Brotherhood to share this with. You are deniable, if you get caught then you are a rogue member who returned recently and we were unaware of your actions. And you have an uncanny ability of getting things done in ways people would not suspect possible.”
“I see,” he replied non committally.
“We can not order you to do this,” she told him.
“The Summit can not order me to do anything any more,” he replied with a grim twist of his ripped upper lip, “very well, I will do as you wish.”

Inquisitorious Listening Post
Planet Tyvell

Chief Inquisitorious Varalis entered the monitoring room holding his coffee and looked around it slowly. Usually it was a hive of activity, with sensor data from countless probes in nearby systems relaying and analysing data through the AIN as it was shunted up the chain to command. Now it was quiet with only one member on duty. He could sense the communications shut down was puzzling and unsettling many of his crew, and he knew the rumours were flying around. He was curious himself the orders have been opaque though the higher ups had stressed the seriousness of it to him. “Everything alright?”
“All quiet boss,” Inquisitor Mylis replied from her station, “systems functioning normally and all that, aside from most of them being switched off.”
He nodded. “Keep an eye out for the transport they're sending,” he told her.
“Yes boss.”
He sat down in a chair and sipped his coffee as he idly looked at the few local systems that were on. Then he frowned as a light began to flash. “What's that?”
Mylis looked at the monitor. “Ship entering the atmosphere boss,” she said studying the display, “registers as a GX1 hauler. Not one of our vessels.”
“Put it on screen.”
The display changed to show a view of the atmosphere above, and focused to reveal the approaching ship. It was descending at speed, a long trail of smoke emitting behind it. “They're in bother boss,” Mylis reported, “looks like they're struggling to control it, their descent is erratic. I think they're trying to bring it down.”
“Track it's descent and scramble a rescue unit.”
“Yes boss,” she replied as she tapped at her console. They watched as the hauler erratically continued it's descent, the amount of smoke increasing. Finally it flew down over the tree tops before it hit the ground in an empty clearing a mile from their location, bouncing several times before coming to a stop, flames beginning to emerge from it. “Rescue crew have location and are imbound in two minutes.”
“Good,” he replied, “if they're alive lets see who they are.”

As the speeder descended into the smoky clearing the crew studied the crashed ship. Whatever fire suppression systems were still functioning had done their job, but the ship was a wreck. Quickly the two suited medics left the craft and made their way to the ship. One quickly attached a device to the hatch and after a few seconds it opened emitting more smoke. After a few moments they carried out a black armoured figure, carefully lowering him to the ground near their speeder. They removed his helmet and both recoiled briefly at his damaged features, before running a medical scanner over him. After a few seconds they were satisfied and carried him into the back of the speeder, before slowly taking off back to their base.

Varalis made his way into the medical suite past the two armoured guards and watched as the staff busied themselves over the mysterious pilot. Finally one of them detached himself and made her report. “The patient is conscious sir,” she reported, “he does not seem to have sustained any major injuries aside from a few bruises though he is in shock. He shows major past injuries though some of the worst I've seen but physically he seems fine. We've been able to ask him a few questions and check his identity.”
Varalis nodded. “Who is he?”
“He's one of ours sir, or nearly he's an Apprentice IV. More accurately his name is Malisane Sadow, of Clan Naga Sadow. His identity checks out in the databank.”
Varalis frowned. He did not recognise the name, but the pilot was a Clan name holder and in all probability a force user. What was he doing here?
“You can speak to him sir, we're finished with him.”
“Good.” He walked forward and studied the pilot who had two bands securing his wrists to the bed for safety purposes. The medic had not understated the description the man had intense scarring on his face and bald head, with a hole where his nose should be, a ripped lip and ears and within two uncovered eyes integral black lenses occasionally blinked. Seemingly aware of the scrutiny, the man's head turned slowly to regard the Chief Inquisitor. “We have a number of questions for you,” Varalis announced.
“That is not unreasonable,” the man replied slowly.
“Reasonable or not is academic,” the Inquisitor replied, “who are you and what are you doing here?”
The man's gaze returned to the ceiling. “I have already identified myself. I am Sith Battlelord Malisane Sadow of Clan Naga Sadow. And as you are no doubt aware my ship crashed.”
Varalis moved closer. “You can do better than that Battlelord. This is an Inquisitorious facility. What business have you coming here?”
“I was not coming here,” Malisane replied, “I was on my Clan's business when my ship's systems failed. I needed somewhere to land. This was all that was available.”
“And what business was that?”
The scarred head turned back and the eyes regarded the Inquisitor. The torn lip sneered. “My Clan's business is exactly that. We do not discuss it with outsiders, even the Inquisitorious.”
Varalis was not one to be intimidated or put of with evasion. “Do not give me that. We have searched what is left of your ship. You were carrying what appear to be routine supplies. That does not fit well in my mind.”
“Why?”
“I am aware of the Sons of Sadow, we have files. Like many of the older Clan members they are not known for undertaking supply missions. So you can appreciate why this does not look quite right, can you not?”
“We all serve where we are able,” Malisane replied, “perhaps I crave the solitude? Perhaps we take routine supplies to places that are not routine? Whatever the case may be I have stated my identity and my circumstances. Unless you have a proper reason to hold me, release me and if it is not too much trouble I would appreciate assistance returning to my Clan.”
“I will release you when I am satisfied,” Varalis replied, “you may have some weight in your own Clan, but the Inquisitorious serve the Dark Council and this is our facility. If you are dissatisfied later you can register a complaint with the correct authorities.” He turned and left.

Outside Varalis met Inquisitor Mylis met him in the corridor. “Well boss?”
“He is as unhelpful as I would expect,” he replied, “the irritating thing is he is correct we can not hold him indefinitely. If he is as senior in his Clan it would get political, unless we find actual evidence against him.”
She nodded. “We have his droid under guard as well.”
“Have we got anything from that?”
“No boss,” she replied, “it's shut down and is resisting any attempts to reactivate it. We've fitted a restraining bolt to it.”
“Good.” Varalis wiped his hand over his eyes. “Have them release his bonds but double his guard. If necessary we can contain one force user. We'll keep him confined to the medical bay. Once the lockdown is lifted we'll send him back to his Clan.”
“Okay boss.”
“I suppose we'd better feed him as well.”

As night began to fall the facility which was already mostly shut down went even quieter, the day shift heading to their quarters and the skeleton night shift taking over. Malisane waited patiently in the medical bay under the watchful gaze of the silent armoured guards. In the night sky above a black object moved through the heavens, it's cloaking systems hidden from even the sophisticated detection of the listening post. Slowly it made it's way down and landed in another clearing on the other side of the facility from the crash site.
A short while later Inquisitor Kerris made her way through the trees, holding her blaster rifle low as she looked through the night vision of her helmet. She was idly talking on her communicator on a private channel. “You're going to what?”
A man's voice came back. “I've told you, I've applied to join one of the Clans. There's a new one called Vizla, they accept all who meet the requirements. I'm not leaving the Inquisitorious you can have a dual allegiance. I might see a bit more action with them. And the benefits are amazing. You should consider it.”
She smiled under her helmet. “I might do if they give us something more interesting than patrol on some remote planet.” She paused as her helmet detected movement nearby. “I'm picking something up Volna. Going to investigate it.”
“Acknowledged.”
She moved forward cautiously, holding her rifle ready. There was nothing unusual in her field of vison, the display updating her with information. She stopped for a few seconds looking around her. Then pain burst through her as a sharp object was pushed up from behind her into the small of her back, cutting through armour and flesh easily. She collapsed to the ground as blood bubbled up from her mouth. As her life faded away her communicator sounded again. “Kerris report,” Volna's voice asked, “wait there's something here too but I can't see anything....” before his voice went silent.

In the medical bay Malisane sat silently, his arms by his side and his palms resting on the bed. The processed meal they had given him had been basic but sustaining. Idly his gaze turned to the time display on the far wall. He noticed one of the guards watching him and his ripped lip twisted up in a slight smile.

In a nearby room the black astromech droid, Zero, suddenly emitted a couple of red lights that began to flash as it powered up, unnoticed by the guards stood outside. It scanned it's systems then detected the restraining bolt. After a few seconds there was a slight crackle of energy across it's surface and the bolt dropped to the ground with a slight thud.

In the monitoring room Inquisitor Trommac sat at his console. He frowned and turned to his companion on the night shift. “Something odd here, we've lost contact with the patrols.”
The woman turned, “Communications error?”
“I'm not sure,” he replied, “the system reports as normal. I've tried several channels.”
She looked at her screen. “We're detecting movement outside the main door.”
Trommac nodded. “Switching to outside cameras.” He moved the view to the main screen and they studied it as the camera switched through several views. “There,” he pointed.
“Looks like some sort of creature. It's hard to make out. Magnifying.” They did and both sat up in surprise at what they saw. “It's holding something.” Suddenly there was a flash on the screen and from outside an explosion rocked the base.

As the alarms began to sound and Inquisitorious members rushed to respond Malisane watched as the four guards reacted. The leader glanced at the two nearest the Sith. “Guard him. You with me.” Malisane sat calmly as the two remaining guards backed away from him, blasters raised as they half watched him and the door where a shimmering barrier had formed behind the other guards.. He waited a few seconds then quickly raised his arms lashing out with the force, sending the guards sprawling to crash into nearby benches and the wall. Standing Malisane reached out and plucked one of the blaster rifles through the air to land in his hand. Calmly shooting the enemies who were struggling to rise he moved forward and focused on the barrier, extending his free hand. He smashed against it with the force and it flickered and then faded. Without a glance behind him he stepped out into the corridor.

Chief Inquisitor Varalis ran quickly down the corridor towards the main entrance, hastily buttoning his shirt as he held his blaster pistol in his hand. He turned the corner and surveyed the scene. Several of his troops were crouched or hiding in open doorways on either side of the corridor engaging what appeared to be a huddled mass of black creatures outside the ruined doors, who in turn were fighting back. It was hard to determine with the light inside and dark outside but the invading forces were just visible enough. He calmly ducked for cover behind a convenient table. He raised his hand and clicked a button on his communicator to link into to tannoy system. “This is Chief Inquisitor Varalis. We are under attack by hostile forces. All personnel report to the main entrance area for deployment.” With luck and strategy they could repel the creatures by positioning and weight of numbers.

Zero moved forward, the assassin droid scanning for enemies. The guards outside had left to join the fighting. It rolled down the corridor seeking it's master or opponents. It stopped sensing for a few seconds, then turned left down a corridor and immediately stopped again as it saw two unarmoured personnel moving carefully down the corridor, blasters raised as they moved forward. Zero extended it's main blaster and fired twice in quick succession. It revolved 180 degrees at the sound of movement behind itself and then paused. Malisane walked forward towards it, and raised a hand. “Give.” The droid immediately opened a small hatch and the Sith plucked the saber hilt out of the air as it fired upwards. He ignited it at the sound of running behind them and attacked three unsuspecting Inquisitors who paused in surprise at the appearance of the Sith. Two fell twitching to the ground with fatal injuries before a blaster bolt seared past Malisane's side killing the third. The Battlelord spun around. “Careful.” The droid emitted a sonorous deep tone in response. “Come with me.”

Varalis directed his troops, firing over the table top at the enemies outside. Several of his force lay dead on the floor and he had no way of knowing how many outside had fallen. His confidence was beginning to waver slightly, if the force outside was small then they could repel the enemy, but it seemed unlikely they would risk a frontal attack without reasonable numbers. He heard more of his staff approaching from behind and gave a grim smile.

Malisane stopped at the sound of blaster fire and then slowly looked around the next turn. Inquisitorious forces were mainly ducked in side doorways but several had now dragged objects into the corridor making a barrier and crouched amongst it, adding to the defending force. He glanced down at Zero. “Act when I do.” He moved around the turn and then reached out a hand and focused, electricity arcing from his finger tips, hitting the nearest soldier and then crackling across to his nearest companions. With another tone Zero rounded the corner, weapon ready and fired. A small rocket homed in on the stunned soldiers and exploded amongst them, blasting them and the barrier. Through the smoke Malisane could make out the enemy turning at the explosion and he moved forward as they did, lashing out with his telekenesis or saber as the droid followed him shooting it's blaster at anything in sight.

Varalis gasped at the sounds behind him, and then at a new threat as the enemy outside stormed the building, black furry creatures bursting into the light firing at anything they could see, ignoring any fire towards them as several fell twitching and more scrambled over them. Varalis rose shooting his blaster at them, trying to decide where to go in the doorways around him. His eyes narrowed when his gaze ascended on the Sith, whose white saber was raised in his hand and their eyes met. Malisane raised his hand and Varalis felt a powerful and invisible punch in his stomach doubling him over as he collapsed gasping. As he fought for breath he could just make out the black creatures moving past him, moving into the rooms and subduing the weakening defenders.

Malisane nodded in satisfaction as his forces prodded several of the survivors into the monitoring room with their pikes, growling menacingly. The rest of the survivors were being herded into a nearby canteen while the creatures scoured the remainder of the building. Slowly Varalis kneeled, his hands behind his head, noting that Inquisitors Mylis and Trommac were either side of him. Angrily he regarded the Sadow. “How can you do this?” he demanded, “you are one of us.”
Malisane regarded him coolly. “My first loyalty is to Sadow. Now you will give my droid the access code to your computer system.”
Varalis spat. “We would die first. We are Inquisitorious, and we are not afraid of you.”
Malisane nodded. “Admirable,” he replied. He glanced at the creatures who stood surrounding the prisoners armed with blasters or wickedly sharpened pikes. “You have the largest information database in the Brotherhood. These are the Sith-spawned ewoks.” He sneered, his torn lip revealing his broken teeth. “Look them up.”

Malisane waited while Zero streamed the data from the computer bank. Varalis knelt with his eyes closed, smelling the blood and fluids of the two mangled corpses either side of him as the ewoks pressed their pikes to either side of his chest, cutting in slightly causing a sharp pain either side. Finally the droid emitted a tone. Malisane nodded in satisfaction. “Good. Now prime the reactor.”
“No!” Varalis gasped before Malisane nodded and the two pikes sliced into his chest, filling his lungs with blood before he fell dying. The Battlelord glanced at the largest ewok and made a gesture, and the creature emitted a noise that was half animal and half metallic. From the room down the corridor the sound of blaster fire and screams emitted, and then silence. “We will leave now.” The chief ewok emitted another noise then lead his forces out, joining the others leaving the building through the ruined doors. Malisane and Zero followed.

Ten minutes later and with his forces aboard and preparing their dead for burial later, Malisane piloted the Lancer pursuit craft into the sky, rising above the treetops. As the craft made for the atmosphere he turned on the rear view just in time to see the facility explode in a burn of flames and rubble, scattering over a wide area. Satisfied the Sith waited then made the jump to hyperspace.

Usharak Keep
Kangaras
The Next Day.

Ashia made her way down the YT1300's ramp once again to find the Battlelord and the droid waiting for her outside the keep.
“We had news through channels of your,”she paused, “success. You have the data?”
Malisane nodded and handed her a data disk. “The only copy.”
The Pro Consul glanced at the droid. “Really?”
“I have no need for it,” Malisane replied.
“Good. Our business is done then. You may want to maintain a low profile, for a while at least.” She turned to walk back to her ship.
“Pro Consul,” he called to her.
She turned. “Yes?”
“Certain notions will no doubt have occurred to you about loose ends, and you may already have plans in place. Do not underestimate me.”
She smiled at him. “I do not,” she replied, “and so long as you are useful you have nothing to concern yourself with. Good day.”
He watched as her craft rose and left then turned towards the keep.

Competition
Poetic Chant
Textual submission

For Sadow! For Sadow!
Our battle cry,
For Sadow! For Sadow!
We do or we die.

For Glory! For Glory!
With all our might,
For Glory! For Glory
We will win the fight.

For Honour! For Honour!
Together we go,
For Honour! For Honour!
We will slay the foe.

For Victory! For Victory!
Cowardice is a sin,
For Victory! For Victory!
Go forward and win!

Competition
Evaluation time
Textual submission

Evaluation Time

Pelta Class Frigate Light of Orian
Naga Sadow Migrant Fleet

Malisane was sat on an uncomfortable metal chair outside the Quaestor's office. He was irritated. He glanced at the time displace on his wrist communicator. It was five minutes past the appointment time. Finally the door opened and Battlelord Jades Sadow left the office and smiled grimly as she saw her fellow Sadow. “You're in next?” she asked.
Malisane nodded. “How was it?”
“Hard going,” she replied, “I'll be in the bar if you're heading down after. You might want to.”
Before he could reply the Quaestor also left the office. “Ah Malisane. Come in.”
Malisane sat in the chair opposite the House Leader's desk. DarkHawk sat as his desk and clicked the terminal in front of him. “Thank you for coming. How are you?”
“I am fine,” Malisane replied with a shrug.
“Good, good,” DarkHawk replied. He glanced at the screen. “So I see you filled in your personal evaluation which is great, so we'll just look at see what you put. Is that ok?”
Malisane shrugged. “I suppose.”
“So Question One. 'How has the last six months been? Are there any particular highs and lows you have experienced and have we seen the best from you?', and you put. “It has been alright'. Is there anything you could like to add to that?”
“Not really no,” Malisane replied, “the war went okay, we won.”
“Well that's great.” The Quaestor replied, “Anything else?”
“No.”

Darkhawk scrolled the screen down. “Question Two, 'Are you living the Clan's values? Please give specific examples of your commitment to our Equality and Diversity and Staff Engagement policies and how they help you in your role.' and your response was 'Yes'”
Malisane nodded. “Yes.”
The Quaestor gave him a patient look. “Have you read the policies and taken them on board?”
Malisane shrugged. “I'm aware we have policies.”
“Well if you remember from the House meeting earlier this year we're committed to giving everyone the same opportunities regardless of personal ability, species or their own personal belief in aspects of the force to achieve their potential, and creating a wider understanding amongst the members can achieve this. As you're probably aware the Shadow Academy offers a wide range of courses to improve your knowledge.”
Malisane thought, “I did the Species Studies course a few months ago.”
DarkHawk beamed. “To achieve a greater understanding of other members?”
“No I needed the credit for a Savant Degree.”
“Well that's good as well. Anyway as you may be aware our Staff Engagement policy which everyone signed up to demonstrates your commitment to engage with other members both within and outside the Clan by taking part in activities, keeping up to date with news items and perhaps even submitting to them and contributing to discussion on the wider issues affecting the Brotherhood.”
Malisane nodded. “Yes I read the news items.”
DarkHawk nodded. “There's actually a Brotherhood wide workshop next week on Sharing Good Practice and Breaking Down Borders I'm looking for volunteers to attend.” He gave Malisane a hopeful look who in return adopted as much as a blank expression as he was able.

“Ok so moving onto Question Three. 'What do you see as your personal contribution to the House and Clan that adds value to it?' and you put 'I serve the Clan until death, I go where it says go, I defend when it says defend and I kill when it says kill. My heart, my soul and my existence is dedicated to the Final Way. All else is nothing.' which is very good but what we're trying to get you to think about is what particular personal contribution you make that really ripples out from you and has a positive effect felt by the others around you?”
Malisane frowned. “I have literally no idea what that means.”
“Well give it some thought.”

Darkhawk looked back at the screen. “So Question Four. 'Where do you see your career progressing and how can we help you achieve those aims?' and you put down. 'Career?'”
Malisane nodded. “I was puzzled by the question. I did not even know I had a career.”
Darkhawk looked at him calmly, “Well where do you see yourself in five years?”
“Alive ideally. Preferably back in the Orian system. I have a cave there.”
The Quaestor frowned. “But what about your ambitions? The Dark Brotherhood has many opportunities for someone who has perhaps had a break and is seeing a new challenge.”
“I'm not seeking a new challenge. I serve the Clan and whoever is currently Consul, where they ask and when they ask. I have no plans beyond that.
DarkHawk considered this. “So would you take an opportunity if it became available?”
“Possibly. If it suited me or if it was needed and no one else wanted it or was suitable.”
“That's good enough for me,” the Quaestor replied typing the response. “So, are you happy in the Clan?”
Malisane considered this. “That no longer has a meaning for me,” he replied, “as I said I am content to serve as long as I am wanted and able.”
“Very well,” DarkHawk replied. “Is there anything else you would like to add?”
“No.”
The Quaestor studied him, then finally he said “Alright I'll send you the notes. We'll do this again in six months.”
“I can not wait,” Malisane replied. He stood and left.