A storm brewing

[Silas Karn]

Null’s reaction was jarring. Though his features were muted anyone that had known Silas would understand who had come to call upon them. ‘I feel no falsehood in his inquisition. The empire itself lost contact with him. Perhaps the beast incarnate has suffered a trauma that has siphoned away his former life?’ Even as the Alliance closed within mere meters of the pair the Sovereign took his time with this encounter.

“You knew me as Silas Karn, Lord Regent of the Galactic Empire. You were known to me as Kyr’amur Null and served in the empire’s military alongside myself and the current regent Argus Kraiov.” As the High Priest spoke he risked a small channeling of the Force in order to connect with the mind of the hulking Zabrak (Telepathy). What met the senses of the Sovereign was a storm of conflict and a haze of surface memories marred but something beyond the limits of the bond the priest had formed to understand.

Whatever had befallen this warrior, it seemed unlikely that they would be made fully whole just within the limits of this short encounter. Such an encounter that was soon to be brought to an abrupt halt. Despite these factors, the potential Silas had once seen in this man now left the Sovereign believing this meeting worth the risk. “Our positions within this galaxy may have been altered since. Yet it would serve as a boon to both for you to depart with me from this world. Of course such an exodus may carry risk…”

As he left the sentence hanging Sovereign turned his head and positioned his eyes such to carry the warrior’s gaze to the approaching Alliance operative. “I doubt highly you have the proper documentation to maintain your peaceful life here on this remote system. Bureaucracy has a way of inflicting indentured servitude after all.” With mere moments before the pair was finally reached and, without conflict, certainly to be separated and held captive until they could be properly processed.

Sovereign granted a final pitch, “Whatever you decide you must do so now. To be pressed into service by the Alliance, have some of their ‘friends’ toy with your mind and attempt to guide you to the correct ‘path’. Or follow me away from this place and out of their grasp. Allow yourself the necessary time to reclaim what you have lost. Time necessary for me to show you just how important you truly are to the galaxy.” It was a powerful message, granted all the oratory grace the High Priest had accrued. Null’s fate now lay in his own hands.

[Varn Badaash]

Varn was closing in on the duo conversing in the field, unfortunately the wind and patter of rain made it difficult for the Dashade to hear what was being spoken about. However Lunter was running the audio input through a filter and removing the background noise and could catch the occasion word. The the hooded figure looked up at the encroaching Ranger and the computer was able to get a partial snap of his face and began running it through the Alliance data banks.

“Varn, be careful, I believe I picked up a mention of the Empire, and talk of leaving quickly.” Lunter spoke into Varn’s ear piece.

The Dashade gave no verbal response but Lunter would see the armors readout showing that the Rangers stungauntlet was beginning to build a charge. Varn’s right hand dropped to his belt and unclipped a small holoprojector.

“Have either of you seen this woman,” Varn spoke out loud, breaking into the duos conversation, his voice gravely. His hand raised the holo device and a female Rodian wearing similar style armor to the Dashade’s Stalker armor appeared tho there was a symbol of Black Suns on hers. “I’ve been tracking her for weeks, any information would be of appreciated.”

Of course the woman was no one to the Dashade these days, just a remnant of his previous life. It would help in selling his bounty hunter look and hopefully cause most people to be a little looser thinking he wasn’t looking for them. Varn’s armor held no faction emblems tho his shoulder cape that generally draped over his right arm held a white reptilian head with a crescent moon behind.

—

The two Rangers sped off across the fields and into the slight slopes leading towards the mountains. It wasn’t long before both riders were getting drenched but they finally spotted the lone wanderer they had been requested by. Within moments the two bikes approached their Jedi, doing one circle around him as they slowed to a halt. The Wookiee let out several low pitched growls and the Weequay nodded before dismounting.

“Master Kenobi,” Heknu spoke. “Ranger Wrutukk gives his greetings and asks where you need us, Captain Alim sent us to assist you in any capacity you require.”

[Kyramur Null]

Kyr’amur Null. The name felt right, like a piece of a puzzle sliding into place.

But, as with any puzzle, it was but one piece of many. And the many other pieces were pieces he could not, as yet, see.

‘But the pieces are there.’ Though Null, clenching the fist that wasn’t holding the rifle. ‘And I will see them put back together.’

He thought on the stanger’s-Silas’s-offer. It was tempting, to be sure. But how could he be sure he was telling the truth?
The simple answer was that he could not. He could feel his memories there, in his head, but he could not, as yet, see them. He would have to take him at his word, but that did not mean blind trust. Silas Karn-that name, too, fit, and brief images flashed through his mind’s eye, too fast to see.

‘Wait.’

“You said I knew you as Silas Karn, the Lord Regent.” Kyr said, eyes narrowing as he realized the implication of the past tense. “If that is you were…then who are you now?”
It was only then that he took note of the Dashade coming up, heard him make his inquiry.

“No. I have not seen her, and he has only just arrived.” He indicated Silas. As he did so, he sized up the Dashade. As with all his people, he was a massive, hulking specimen, of a size and strength to match Kyr’amur himself.

If a conflict began between them, he could not, with certainty, predict a winner.

[Ben Kenobi]

The two Rangers pulled up on their speeder bikes, ever as dutiful and efficient men they were prepared to serve in whatever capacity that they could. Ben admired the Antarian Rangers, they often put themselves in harms way if only to do just that; serve. They were good men, the lot of them. The Master bowed respectfully to the men in greeting for he was in no urgent rush just yet. "Thank you both for coming so quickly."

He turned away and looked at the mountain through the sheets of rain pouring down. There was still very real and potent Darkside energy emanating from out there yet while back in the camp there was far less save the grave feeling that he should make his way over there, the Force was calling him there... it surely made him second guess going back to camp instead of into the mountains to seek out the Darkness that festered there.

This silent combat went on in his mind for some time. Finally he had to just relax himself in a simple mental exercise and remind himself that patience was the key here. All would be revealed if he had patience rather than rushing off into the unknown when he knew for certain something out there was amiss... he didn't know what... but something out there was very wrong.

"Gentlemen, if you'd be so kind as to take me back to the camps. I feel that before I trek off into the mountains there is something I need to attend to back there."

"Of course Master Kenobi." Came the reply and so the Jedi mounted up on the back of the second speeder bike and together they eased into a long turn and oriented back to the camps.

Their speed would be greatly hindered by the rain as throttling up in such a downpour could easily cause an accident due to the low visibility and not to mention the rain at great speed would sting something fierce. For now it seemed that patience was truly the only way...

[Silas Karn]

The rain began to pour even harder as the three men stood out in the field. Unlike Kyr’amur the Sovereign did not respond to the alien trash that had just done its best to address the men in basic. ‘Revolting, that thing barely looks sentient,’ the priest mused before returning his thoughts to the once proud warrior. “It seems you must have suffered the loss of some cycles of memory for you not to pick up on my name or former title. As for regent it has fallen to Argus’s hands.” As the Sovereign spoke he took care not to allow the alliance creature to stray from his sight.

Despite holding this situation firmly under control such pests had a tendency to act as mites upon otherwise sound foundations. With the understanding that speech was of no further use. Feeling the momentum of the situation not bending its will to him. The Sovereign cast aside the brown robes that had concealed the marvelous craft of the armaments the lithe form of the priest had been adorned in. Obsidian plate armor all but molded to the agile form of the Echani were juxtaposed against the platinum silver weave that aided in preserving range of movement.

Hanging from Silas’s waist was a black cape which also bore a resplendent silver inner liner yet fell just short of the Echani’s heels. At each side the Sith bore a silver curved hilt attached to his belt. At the small of his back four additional single handed hilts were set horizontally. The imposing figure did not reach for the sabers, rather the Echani assumed the stance of the battlemaster’s of his kin.

“If words fail to reach you then I am left with little alternative. It will be my honor to draw out your true self. As a warrior that has fought side by side I cannot turn away with your mind dulled by trauma.” Though Varn would lack understanding and Kyr’amur memory of why this Echani was so swift to raise arms to the Sovereign it felt as natural as breathing. The High Priest had so few opportunities to indulge this aspect of his self, and with interlopers already present alternatives were few. The responses from the Zabrak phenom and Varn would shape the rest of this encounter.

[Varn Badaash]

The Dashade took a quick step back as the Echani threw off his cloak to reveal his more elegant if not garish gear below. He had the stance and pose of a warrior, that much was clear to Varn. He’d also caught the name Argus, which if his memory served him correctly was the current Lord Regent of the Empire. This spoke of trouble, but at current Varn wasn’t sure where it was all heading, his left hand dropped to his powered mace just in case the Echani warrior turned on him.

A Bothan voice cracked to life in the Dashade’s headset. “Varn do not engage,” his voice came through a bit shaky. “That’s Silas Karn, a known Sith and ex leader of the Echani people, and partly responsive for the happenings of the Kota Station massacre!” The voice cut off for a brief moment before picking back up. “Bantha fodder, the Zabrak is Kyr’amur Null! An Imperial Commander and highly dangerous combatant, observe but do not engage till back up arrives!”

Varn’s dark eyes watched the two, sizing them and identifying their weapons and gear. Both seemed dangerous as Lunter indicated and the Dashade took another step back, at this moment it wasn’t clear if Silas was preparing to leap at the Zabrak or Varn. Slowly the Ranger slid into a more defensive stance and kept his hand on the mace and stowing the holo projector. “I’m not sure what’s going on between the two of you but don’t drag me into it.”

—

Alim got the update from Lunter as she and Srid were about to enter the governing building. “Sith spit,” she muttered before looking at Srid who shared her dreadful expression. “Thank the Force Kenobi’s near by.” She grabbed her comlink and tuned it to the Jedi’s frequency once more.

“Master Kenobi,” she spoke clearly into the comm. “Master Kenobi, we have a situation that requires your immediate assistance! Our investigation has lead us to Silas Karn and Kyr’amur Null! I repeats, Silas Karn and Kyr’amur Null are here! Exact reasoning has yet to be determined!”

Srid ran into the structure to warn the local governing body while Alim turned and headed back towards the Silver Mynock. They had to prepare to get as many citizens cleared out of what could become another massacre if Silas and Kyr weren’t apprehended properly.

[Kyramur Null]

Some thought it was the raw size and power of the Zabrak that made their services as mercenaries and soldiers lusted and vied for across the galaxy. For others, it was their fearsome visage, the teeth and horns. For still others, it was a matter of biology-their twin hearts, beating, supplying blood and oxygen to sustain muscles capable of incredible feats of power.

They were all wrong.

It was the instinct, the raw, genetic data in every Zabrak-the ancestral muscle memory. From father to son, mother to daughter, generation by generation, it was passed down through training and teaching. Their species had been fighting each other since the dawn of time, and then, when the rest of the galaxy opened up, they had gone off to fight everywhere else.

It was that instinct, both in his blood and in his muscle memory, that bade Kyr lash his rifle to his back and turn his body slightly, raising his now clenched fists. He couldn't remember how he knew what to do, but his body remembered nonetheless, and he meant to follow that thread as far as he could to recover his memories. He'd been given a taste, a brief flash, of his whole self. He wanted more.

And if he or others had to bleed to make it so, then they would bleed.

[Silas Karn]

As the alien refused to part company, even after being told the person he sought was unknown to the pair it was obvious to the Sovereign what its continued existence indicated. ‘This filth is obviously here to waylay us as the Alliance slowly moves in,’ As it continued to butcher galactic basic the disgusting ‘sentient’ declared its desire to be left out of the coming conflict. ‘Just as well, it is not the Alliance that called me here this day,’ the priest noted. Much to the elation of the former Echani noble his declaration had payed off.

The mighty Zabrak took form and proper stance to meet the battlemaster’s charge. “There you see, even if your memory falters your body remembers well the lessons instilled within it.” Wind howled as the rain billowed across the fields that separated the pair. It had been many years since Silas had sparred with such a potentially dominant combatant. A snap of lightning lit the skies seemingly signaling the opening of the bout as the fleet footed Echani bolted towards the phenom. Lashing out with wild abandon surprising even him, the Sovereign unloaded on Kyr’amur’s guard.

The impact of which sent out bursts of water in small shockwaves revealing the profound strength usually bellied by the Echani’s finesse. Sovereign managed to push Null back as it was obvious that the Zabrak had not fully regained his once formidable abilities. Slamming shots into the Iridonian’s mid-section multiple times Silas could hear air being literally forced out from his opponent’s lungs. Despite the flurry the Sovereign had held back from targeting Kyr’s head as he baited a desired counter. Dodging a series of the Zabrak’s own body blows Silas finally got what he was looking for.

Intentionally leaving his own guard down, granting a full opening through his upper guard the Sovereign put his full strength into delivering a lunging straight right aimed directly for Null’s head. ‘This, if this fails. There is little chance his warrior spirit could be restored!’ Silas calculated. The battlemaster aimed for an even exchange, hoping both deliveries to being granted at the fullness of the combatant’s might.

[Ben Kenobi]

Even through the downpour Ben could hear the crackling of the voice on the other end and he sensed the great wave of danger lurking behind it. Static and distortion was running in abandon here but the Jedi Master heard everything he needed to hear as the name Silas Karn came through his comm-link. Clearly the massive storm over the mountains had been a ruse or perhaps worse a horrific Sith ritual created by the High Priest of the Red Cauldron himself… the so-called Lord Sovereign.

Another portion of the message was lost in the distortion of the comm traffic but Ben was certain that it was equally ill in fortune for both the Alliance Forces gathered there and the civilians. Hoping his message would get through he simply acknowledged the communique and did away with the device back to his belt.

He had to shout over the noise of the engines, the wind and the stinging rain. “Rangers! We need to get back to the assembly area now!”

Discomfort from the deluge aside, the Antarian Rangers gunned their throttle and the twin speeder bikes tore out through the wind and the rain. They would suffer for their efforts too as the harsh falling water would feel as knives and at these speeds if the rain lashed their skin then even wounding could occur. Regardless of these things the Rangers put their heads down and carried on, ever the dutiful companions of the Jedi Knights. As for Ben he pulled up his cloak to better cover his face and with every stinging droplet that blasted him he winced and tried to duck his head lower.

The speeder bikes were screaming across the Lothal landscape now; they would be at the farmlands within moments. It was likely their bikes could have even be seen speeding that way if not for the literal sheets of downpour that denied much in the way of visual allowances…

[Varn Badaash]

The Dashade dark eyes examined the Echani as it sprung into action. His style showed years of honing and training, while the way he moved showed decades of experience. The Zabraks stance showed his readiness and the way the first few blow hit showed his endurance and strength to survive. Varn’s curiosity was peaked, while he understood Lunter’s message of danger, he himself wanted to see such experience warriors fight. The Dashade shared in the species background of being warriors and Varn wanted to see their individual styles in action and how much they differed from his own nearly extinct peoples fighting styles.

This curiosity did not however stop him from being cautious as he took several more steps backwards. His hand stayed on the powermace hanging from his hip just incase this moved to endanger himself or those citizens of the village. The rain blanketed the two combatants and their spectator but it seemed to hinder little as the Echani pressed the attack. Varn wondered just how long the Echani’s drive could last, and if the Zabrak’s superior mass would be able to push him through.

“Varn pull back, Master Kenobi is on his way,” Lunter’s voice once more broke into Varn’s ear.

Varn merely gave his species version of a smile as he heard that his old savior was inbound. The Dashade would not pull back, no he needed to stay and make sure the fight stayed clear of civilians until Kenobi arrived, at which point he would support the Jedi Master as he had done many times before.