Proconsul Report


Proconsul Report


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]( "Dark Jedi Crypt")

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It was a bigger relief than he’d expected as Dalthid pried the nameplate off of the door to his office. Someone else would have to deal with the smell that lurked within its walls; after all, the Stennes wasn’t much for cleaning up. The last of his things were thrown into a small bag as he hit the ‘send’ key on his terminal. Soon, Waza would be receiving the codes to the Clan archive as well as the system designators for the Dark Paladin, the vessel of the ProConsul.

Dalthid had offered to stay on with the Summit, as an information comptroller, but quickly rescinded the notion after a chance to think about it. There was no telling what the Clan would become, but it had to be better than where it was, or so he’d been told. The countless accusations of the Clan’s present state were aimed at him on many occasions, all of which had finally taken their toll. It wasn’t like Dalthid to care, as he knew he had done the best that he could and far more than he needed, alas, it wasn’t enough. He lacked confidence in the structure of the Clan and its inability to have leaders that had the interest of the ‘whole’ in mind. Rather, CSK was swamped with self-indulgent members who were more concerned with themselves than with the status of the Clan. He wasn’t without allies and support, from the DGM to certain members of Satal Keto, but they weren’t enough to change the course of events.

He tossed the bag on his desk and sat, one last time, at his console. It was covered in coffee stains, ashes from his cigars and the keys held such a dingy haze that they were hard to read. A few keystrokes later and his database was almost wiped out. He was sure to erase his communications with allied members of CSK as their ‘friendship’ with him would be sure to get them spat on in times to come. As the last bits of info scrolled the screen on its way to non-existence, Dalthid’s brain reminded him of last week’s report. He had been hell-bent on a huge rant aimed at certain members of the Clan, a rant that would have made him feel a lot better. However, when it came down to it, he opted to forego such folly as it wouldn’t change anything and thus, was pointless. The ‘soon-to-be-former’ PCON never had a problem confronting anyone, in fact; he enjoyed the conflicts from time to time. Yet, it had become plainly clear that current and former members of the Clan didn’t have the guts to be the same way. Their “cookie cutter” excuses for their disdain ranged from absurdity to jealousy – whereas Dalthid had clear explanations of why his impressions ran the way they did, based on fact and not on a whim, like most.

A slight ‘blip’ chirped from the crusted speaker at the base of the console as the text across the screen read: [Bank Empty]. Dalthid took a deep breath and stood from his beat-up chair. There was no telling if the DC would ‘bite-off’ on Waza’s appointment to ProConsul, but Dalthid knew he was the man for the job, nevertheless it wasn’t his decision. He’d most likely remain PCON on the roster for a few more days, but that was just a title now.

With bag in hand, Dalthid closed the door behind him, “now what?” he thought.


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