An Old Wolf's Return

[Kroxata Akhoi]

Months had passed like years since the Sith Lord, Kroxata Akhoi, Dreadlord of the Red Cauldron was last seen by any known establishment in the galaxy. Long had he searched for his what he deemed the ultimate triumph in his lust for conquest, however something had changed, his direction had no meaning. Ever since the disappearance of Tormentous, The Dathomiri Hammer had not aspiring higher power to look to in times of need, he never forgot his teachings but he began to question them. With every day that passed the visions that had haunted him since his encounter with the Lord of Hunger were seen as just that, visions, they did not hold truth or proved to be anything but illusions that plagued his mind. The mad rabid dog that sought nothing but glory to the Sith and the destruction of the Light had slowly faded away, with every act or deed he did in the name of the Empire, he was seemingly the unsung hero. After dedicating his loyalty to the Dark Side, aiding in finally defeating the Dark Council and ending the corrupt reign that shackled the Sith to a confined cage it could not escaped, he was left in an Empire that lost its meaning, its cause, its purpose.

Reaching a point where the Dreadlord himself was the corrupt fool that needed to be replaced. Only now this daunted onto the Dathomirian, he had done his purpose but was he even meant to be the victor? Slade had taken the title of Emperor and the Sith from his ears alone had been prospering without his guidance, yet it lacked integrity, tradition, honour. The things that still boil the hatred inside him but not how it used to it, before it felt like an unnerving lust that had to be quenched. Now it felt almost like meditative state, something that could be controlled harnessed and used as he pleased, perhaps the long isolation had sustained his bloodlust, perhaps through all the pain he had found some sort of peace.

Sitting upon hisd empty throne, he does not contemplate war, domination and marking his name across the galaxy, he instead looks to his own past, his journey to where he had come from. Such a small being that could not comprehend the foundations of the galaxy to a wretched feared Sith Lord that had seen many things, things that his tribesmen would only dream off, if any still lived. He wondered of the possibility to bring the Dathomiran culture back into the Universe, to defy fate and give his race another chance for survival, maybe that is what drove him, maybe that is why he searches endlessly in the unknown regions.

The doors slide open to reveal General Lidmor, now with a grizzled beard that hides his scar ridden skin, alongside the cybernetically enhanced Admiral, Graden. They appeared to have been mid conversation, both still bickering to one another before finally Lidmor clears his throat, indicating his eyes to Kroxata, Graden holds his tongue, keeping quiet to await the General’s report. “Kroxata my friend, are you sure returning back to the known galaxy is a good idea? With ‘Lord Blood’ and you still on opposing sides I highly doubt he would welcome you back with open arms, and as far as I am concerned, you have caused enough damage and terror to be on every bounty list on every Imperial planet. Neither would the jedi be so lenient to a murderer of of their knights.”

Kroxata no longer wore his full plated armour wherever he travelled, in fact he took to removing the Obelisk armour in either fits of rage or more lack of pride to be wearing it. He kept hold of a single shoulder plate, removing both arm sleeves of plated metal but keeping the chest guard. His legs were instead lightly dosed in a chain mail with his boots still the same jet black coat of armour. Finally his arm guards were still worn on each wrist, the bone like teeth that spiked out from his forearm belonged to a Rancor he successfully preyed upon during his trial of Strength. His amber eyes stop loomingly drift along the ground, pointed to reveal their glowing gaze to Lidmor, he lets out a long drawn sigh. “Yes Lidmor, I have been in hiding for too long, I am not the zealot Sith I once was. I will find a way, don’t I always?” Lidmor lets out a light chuckle “Yes, by negotiating with your Lightsaber through their chest.” “The Force has not failed me yet, I still believe it will not.” Lidmor bows his head in acknowledgement to his response. “As you wish, the Maul is entering the closest system.” From the unknown regions of the hyper lanes the Maul appears once more into reality, being a beacon for any nearby to see that the Dathomiri Hammer was fat from gone.

[Slade Xandir]

Awaiting in the general sense of proximity were a few squadrons of ships, more or less busying themselves with either patrol or space debris reduction. Yet the small fleet itself belonged to the one Kroxata seemingly abhorred. Blood; the man who was once mad, now polished over to be the growing menace Tormentous aspired for him to be. Currently he was in plot with himself and his newest acquisition, Raven, who served as his Phantom. Anyone looking upon the cloaked Miraluka-hybrid would assume she was nothing but a ghost, the petite framed shell of hidden figure was entombed in the shadows of her dark purple attire. Hooded and robed, the near unnoticeable figure drifted from different pieces of a map that was projected in front of her, pointing to varied places of promise for Tormentous' demise. Knowing she was decent at what he had enlisted her for, Blood listened from the chair, watching as she made notes to herself.

"What have you garnered from the puzzle pressssented?" he spoke between scaled lips. "That the only failsafe you have is aboard a ship." she responded with a huff that seemed more irritated at the time it took to come up with the answer rather than the answer itself. She seemed to beat herself up internally, and the conflict he felt in her, though minute, was interesting to him. The magnitude of Force ability she held was unbelievable, but he was forced to not corrupt her, as he needed her to be free of his trace whenever she was in the field. Not a member of the Sith with an ID card or even a name within their ranks. She was nonexistent in systems unless she wanted her name to be found. And unless any other Force user had the ability to fight her for her memories, she was cleared as any regular civilian.

"Leave them both on something you don't care about losing, and blow it."

Blood thought about it, then brought forth a conclusion - He would pause the rest of this for when they held more time, as a ship he hadn't seen in ages had made itself known. A clawed hand gripped the armrest of the chair he sat in, his nails puncturing the leather with their pike-like tips. He leaned forward with the majority of his heft leaving the seat's balance in a 50:50 ratio. If he sneezed, the chair would topple. But Blood knew who's ship he stared at. And he couldn't decipher between the mix of feelings that rose in his chest.

Be joyous that another relic of the great Tormentous had survived and lay just before him? Or infuriated that another possible contester came to try him? He had lost enough as it was, and he wasn't in the mood for negotiations, at this point.

"Could be stolen," Raven offered as she read the emotions he freely cast from his essence. "I doubt it. If no one dissscovered his corpse, that Zabrak isn't dead."

Blood was aboard his Naga Dreadnought, and while the vessel was forever surrounded by the multitude of squadrons to ensure maintenance and security, the Dragon King could easily block out the universe, and feel that vibration of what was once the Beta of the Pack's aura. They both were powerful, but through all, Blood had given himself over more to the Dark Side, and pushed his power to limits he hadn't even fathomed before committing. Because of his lust, he had gained much in comparison to his losses, and that culled any potential for turning back. He now existed to either make others submit through any means necessary, or die fighting for the throne he claimed, a throne he was never ready for, but a throne he took for the continuous existence of the Sith. There was no other way around it-

There was only forward.

And in front of him today lay Kroxata.

Bombard this old soul,
or try to save it?

Usually Lidmor lay in the command center of his Naga, but today the space-warfare mentor was illusive to him, today. Mattered not; he didn't need him. Anything worth figuring out, Blood would figure out on his own. He had done enough waiting for people to show him things. Some things he just had to learn from experience.

How to deal with Kroxata was one of them.

"Valkyr," he spoke over his shoulder to the cyborg Cathar. "Make contact with The Maul. I want word with our old packmate." Complying, she accessed the transmission board from her own systems, sending signal out to the other Dreadnought.

[Kroxata Akhoi]

The Naga Class Dreadnought’s engines hummed a soft tune throughout the local sector, the roaring flames caused vibrations to strike the nearby asteroids to violently shake, occasionally crashing against the metallic hull that crumbled upon impact. With little damage being done to the mighty Sith warship, within the bridge falls to the silence, each captain, crew member and soldier waiting in anticipation for the first move made by any friend or foe. A transmission was relayed to all those that once followed the Dathomiri Hammer into glorious combat, the grand fleet that once called him master had been waiting dormently, may they be serving Slade’s Empire or stood as the vanguard around Ziost. General Lidmor and Admiral Graden emerge from the motion sensor doors separating the bridge from the narrow hallways connecting the rest of the Maul, still in mid conversation.

“Although I thank you for your hospitality Admiral, we both know I cannot remain here any longer. With each and every second I stay here the patience of Lord Blood ever thins. I may be reliable asset to him but in no way, shape or form does this mean I will not evoke his temper.” Lidmor brushes off his various medals standing before the Command chair observing as Graden makes himself comfortable in his seat of command. The Admiral rubs his cybernetic arm across his flesh skin, sighing in deep thought “Yes, of course we all have our responsibility General, may next we meet, hopefully as allies and enemies.”

“Only time will tell Graden, it may not be my choice.”

Graden nods his head in acknowledge, removing his robotic hand from his chin, resting it on the sleek design of the command chair, reconfiguring the protocols bringing up a holo map blueprint of the Maul, he runs his around like a cursor pin pointing a specific ship docked in the central Hanger being monitored and refueled by repair droids. “You ship is waiting General, do not leave our ‘Dark Lord’ waiting any longer.” Lidmor bows his head setting course for his trip home to Lord Blood.

Silence falls onto the bridge of the Maul once more, giving some brief time for Graden to contemplate his role alongside his master Kroxata. He too noticed the changed over the few months, he was far less brutal and savage as he used to be, the giant tyrant seemed to evolve into a grizzled veteran. No more did he act hostile to all his officers and soldiers, nor did he punish his men’s failure with death or torture of the vilest sort. In a way his change brought a smile to the Admiral’s face, until a irritating beacon broke his his own thoughts, Graden shot up from his rested seat his cyborg eye spiraling into focus looking to the drop down display, a transmission directed to none other than the Dreadlord on none other than a Sith frequency.

As if anymore of a coincidence, the giant horned Sith Lord gifted his presence aboard the bridge, he watched in awe to the transmission received on seemingly perfect timing. Graden hearing the large heavy footsteps that thud across the deck, instantly around standing at attention, the Dathomiri Hammer raises his hand indicating to set him at ease before wondering over to stand beside him. His bellowing voice marking its presence once again the empty silence of the bridge “Play it…”

The voice on the other was not who the Dreadlord predicted it to be, perhaps -he- was not prowling the galaxy for him as he thought. The voice was that of a women, one Kroxata could barely recognise but one that had echoed through his mind for some time. “Maul warship, The Dragon King requires your immediate cooperati-” Kroxata lets out a gurgled growl marching towards the hologram of Mercy, interrupting her little forced formal speech onto the Dathomiri Hammer with a bellowing voice “I will speak to Slade, and Slade -alone- pawn. If you wish to have my co operation then it shall be with your ‘self proclaimed’ Dark Lord!”

[Slade Xandir]

Valkyr played the transmission back to Blood, and the Sithian watched the brow arch on the petite Raven as she cast the him a glance. "Who's Slade? His friend, or something?"

Blood rolled his eyes as he finished listening to the rest of the transmission. "Nothing but a wasted memory of a man who wasn't fit to be a Sith. He'ssss gone."

Valkyr turned back to him as she awaited another command, which he promptly gave her. "Put me through."

After the green light became prevalent and Raven nodded her head, Blood spoke his dark baritones into his earpiece. "Long time, no see, Dathomirian Hammer. Funny your return at such a suspiciousss time."

Knowing he wasn't going to care much for giving grace to a conversation, Blood addressed the brainless brute as he pleased. "There is no more Slade. There is only Lord Blood. And you will either kneel before me, or be trampled in your ignorance. Make your choice, and make it wisely."

Now Kroxata could either have negotioational terms, or a massacre would be underfoot. The Zabrak had no more control of armada or navy, nor priveledges of such other than the few squadrons that might follow him from memory, but then they too would be labeled treasonous and put to death through space combat. Blood had full control of the arsenal as the active and only recognized Ruler for the current time, and with the outrageous odds between the two, Kroxata had literally one option...
unless he was suicidal. Either was fine with Blood.

As his message was sent through the radiowaves, the seperate banks of fighters and touscans readied themselves, a triggerhair away from ignition and release into space, should their comms be filled with the directive for such. A multitude of of other ships readied themselves too, as another Naga came into orbit with Bloods, being led by another general enlisted under Blood's eye should Lidmor too prove himself treasonous. People were expendable, and with lack of care or empathy in any regard for them, Blood replaced them just with ease. A wave of ships were already prepared to swarm The Maul should it turn aggressive, reverting from cleaning up space debris and patroling to immediately being alert and ready to engage.

The seconds ticked by...

What was it going to be?

[Rhoden Carbine]

Rhoden sat in his Starwing as it hurtled through hyperspace. Neive was in his own ship and would arrive at the same moment Rhoden himself did. He didn't know, just yet, what his new associate had felt through the Force, but his concern--the monitors had told him--was genuine. And so Rhoden's own concern was genuine.

Not that he wouldn't find the experience fun given the appropriate circumstances. He finished checking his blade and smiled to himself in the gleaming surface. Yes, indeed, there could very well be fun at the end of their current road. He reached back past Dot whose head swiveled to follow his hand in the confines of the cockpit. He brought his helmet up and snapped it into place.

"We're uninvited guests." he murmured to himself, "Speed is the key." he glanced at the chrono, they would be arriving shortly. "Dot, my dear little friend. Please retrieve a full scan and alert me about any concerning findings upon entry." Dot beeped an acknowledgement. The little droid had found Rhoden's behavior unusual at first, but he could get used to the new way of things. After all. Just stabbing the threat was better than letting it shoot at Rhoden. The other Inferno members. And Dot himself.

The swirls of hyperspace fell away to a vast starscape, there was a ping as a scan went out. Dot beeped immediately and Rhoden read his screen, "This had better be worth getting shot at." he said, speaking into his comm to Neive.

[Neive Undant]

Neive was right on rhoden’s tail as they both shot through hyperspace. The second Neive, or as he was now, prazutis... felt the disturbance in the force, he could feel the familiar resonance of Kroxata. However, the dire vibe around his brother made him wary of what was going on as they approached the coordinates he put into his Z-95 Headhunter, the ship he had been told had been owned by him since his time on roche. It felt ironic, being this close to sith space, that he be in this ship. But in any case, as they approached, he had a thought. Familiar enemies as well as kroxata’s presence...
“The dark lord is here. Be ready for anything” Prazutis spoke into the comm. as they exited hyperspace, he gunned it.
“Don’t worry... there’s a chance that with the man we’re here for returning, blood’s regime could be in jeopardy. We just need to get him out safely, and away from the sith’s forces. From there, we’ll have to talk about what to do next” he looked at the small armada bear Krox’s ship. “There. Your choice, do we draw their fire or escort the ship out?” Prazutis kept close to Rhoden, awaiting his word.

[Kroxata Akhoi]

The Dathomiri Hammer sat with his arms cupped around his mouth, his eyes focused to the ground attentively listening to the words of tyrant that had control over the Sith. With his final words, Kroxata let out a deep sigh, closing his amber eyes in seemingly disgust. No a single ounce of the man he saved from certain death could be recognised, even his voice and demeanor felt far more twisted and cruel than he had ever perceived before. But there was little he could do, in a way he saw himself in the Sith Lord, if he had ever fully given himself to the Dark Side, the power thirsty monster that sought nothing but death and destruction to his enemies. His honour and traditions as a warrior was the only thing stopping the temptations of malice from ever controlling his life, in the end he had to control the Dark Side, not let the Dark Side consume him.

The options were clear, and so was the answer, but without a fleet to fall back upon, the Dreadlord had little to his name. Challenging ‘Lord Blood’ would only end in more bloodshed and slaughter with most likely the Nightbrother falling to his blade, a fate he would not allow, he did not fear death but he would be disgraced if it came at the hands of Kroxata’s own self pity on another being.

Admiral Graden paced the command chair briefly, considering the options viable to him. He could turn in his Sith master to perhaps gain the influence and favour of the new Sith Order, his cybernetic eye glanced over to the Zabrak taking in account the possibility of such an act. Throughout their service together, for the most part Graden had been nothing but a pawn to his command, but in the end would Lord BLood treat him any different? Or even far below the respect he has gained from the warrior. No, to do that would be to betray Tormentous himself, a mutual bond of friendship had formed between the two, no longer seen as a master and a servant and that would never be achieved if he enacted his betrayal now. But out of the corner of his eye he spotted, a sign of hope, of freedom, or has Kroxata has come to say, ‘the Will of the Force.’ Two unidentified vessels poured into their sector, standing out in the vast nothingness of space.

Without a second to lose, Graden marched towards the tracking radar spread out through the sector, surprising the officer working at the station. “There! What are those two vessels!” Graden demanded with for once a booming voice, something the Admiral was not known for, the officer gulped, attempting to narrow down the two small dots displaying on a grid monitor. “Hm, they’ve just jumped through, its hard to track who they are.” Graden pushed himself away striding away back to his station “Keep trying, send out a direct comm link to them, ask them who they’re from, now! Lord Kroxata we may have found a way to live another day, you have to keep Lord Blood talking until we can know are guests.”

Korxata raised his head to Graden’s sudden burst of dominance, as he looked to the faces of the various soldiers and crewmen they seem to display the same look of shock. The Dreadlord nods his head once more “Yes, it appears desperate times comes for desperate measures. Bring up the same transmission link.” The crewmen nod their head, a small sound wave frequency of his voice recording appears before the command chair, Kroxata sits back into his throne as he clears his throat once more “If Slade is truly gone then you are nothing but a stranger to me. I do not believe we have even met face to face. I am a follower of Tormentous, the rightful Dark Lord, so tell me ‘Lord Blood’ if I were to join the fold, to come cleanly and without resistance, what would you have for me? What grand welcome will I be met, or will it be nothing more than a pet dragged along by your chain…”

[Slade Xandir]

The first words came from Raven who had two separate flashing lights blink on the screen of the map she had forth in the transmission room. With the ANON alert flashing in tandem with the dots and their nearing inclusion to Sith Space, Blood immediately assumed they were senseless enemies of his own, and moreover allies with the damned Zabrak.

"Serial numbers, one unknown, the other belongs to Imperial database in service duty."

A growl left his lips as his irritation grew. He watched as one ship broke through the tunnel of twisted light and stretched time, and immediately he recognized the ship. Neive, scoundrel and still living whelp that seemed to be infatuated with the Sith at this point. Another ship was close behind, and considering they weren't in hostile engagement with each other, he quickly connected the dots; they were traveling together.

Snatching up a transender, Blood flicked through the listings of number reachable, and from the list, he clicked the Imperial's name whom he had rendezvoused with now on a steady basis with neutral meetings and prisoner exchanges. Doren, a Captain within the Imperial Reach, and bitter sweetly known as the Arrow to the Sithian. A vocal recording was clipped and sent to the Imperial with haste before the treaty they were trying to forge crumbled to ash with the Draconian's patience.
'[Retrieve location of Starwing from your arsenal within Sith Territory, and inform him of his trespassing, along with Neive.'

It was then Kroxata's voice rang back through the responder on his own signal, finally addressing the Sith Lord as who he was.
With a set face of contempt, Blood listened.

“If Slade is truly gone then you are nothing but a stranger to me. I do not believe we have even met face to face. I am a follower of Tormentous, the rightful Dark Lord, so tell me ‘Lord Blood’ if I were to join the fold, to come cleanly and without resistance, what would you have for me? What grand welcome will I be met, or will it be nothing more than a pet dragged along by your chain…”

Pausing for his own process, Blood thought this through carefully before responding into the receiver.

"There will be no grand welcome, as you do not need a grand welcome. I do not need a grand welcome. There is no ceremony for beings such as us, Kroxata. I am no Dark Lord, just as you are no Dreadlord. But what you will have is recognition from me, and from the Sith, for the importance you played in bringing use back to the endless turmoil of the Sith's reign. I will not drag you, as I do not any of my Initiates, my Acolytes, my Hopefuls...But what you may have is a chance at becoming a head of my Cerberus Lords."

Blood gave a single second for the Zabrak Lord to let this sink in before he continued. "You don't believe I have forgotten how much vehement valor you held in our spars, do you? I say I have not, and it makes for a perfect Master of War. It makes even more savory a chance at becoming my Right Hand, to release that surge of battle prowess you have over the enemies that try their hand at our dominion. You are not some pet to be pulled and stepped upon; you are a warrior who deserves a chance at retribution, and I offer you that salvation."

Finally, the Sithian finished his response, the Wicked Messiah providing his last say on the subject.

"Leave behind the life of a pawn, of a loner. Return to your pack, Lord Kroxata. Much can be discussed if you bind to me your word, and your loyalty. Board this ship and see me, see my face, and know me for what I am."

Aboard his Naga was Warvanus, proven loyal follower and Initiate of Blood's, taken in from the forsaking of Tormentous' lead. Against all odds, the pair had formed a tight bond. And just as the Dark Lord had been with his own Beta, Blood was with Warvanus.

[Kell Sangros]

Warvanus had spent most of his available time training, specifically working his lightsaber techniques; he had been in the beginning stages of developing a completely different lightsaber style mostly by borrowing sequences and strategies from the other seven forms. It was one that seemed to fit him perfectly, but this time he was working on his skill in Juyo , it was a form he was skillful in. He as always had lost track of time, as he could feel as if he was about to be summoned by the Master of this vessel. He looked around him and the Acolytes he had been training with looked exhausted and worn out. He gave a inward chuckle. He was just getting warmed up afterall.

He powered down his lightsaber and clipped it to his belt, promptly exited the gym and made his way to the bridge where his Master was. Officers and others stiffened as he passed them by some offering salutes, some standing at attention.

The door to the bridge hissed open and he stepped through there was a flurry of activity and he could sense his Master’s patience diminishing, he did not say a word but took an interest at the viewport and had heard about two ships being Imperial. The anger in the sith warrior rose, they had been meddling too often in the affairs of the Sith, someone needed to put a leash on the Imperial dogs.

He approached as the conversation between Lord Blood and what he determined was the former Dreadlord Kroxota. He was a formidable, but he had been able to hold his own against the Zabrack. He had believed he had died, but this was not apparently so. He was one of the last Sith Lords who served under his former Master, He himself had been Tormentous’ last apprentice, though technically all he did was start him on the path to power.

He said nothing but observed and listened and opened himself to the currents of the Dark side.
“Would be a waste of experience if he did not pledge fealty to Lord Blood” he thought to himself. So many wanted to usurp Lord Blood, but he had proven to be efficient and capable leader. It would not be if he became the next Dark Lord, but when.

He continued to observe wondering what would happen next.

[Professor Mors]

***Chorlian Sector, Outer Rim Territories***
***Victory I Class Star Destroyer Reverent, en route to Vaynai***

"Sir, we've just received a priority communication", Lieutenant Clemens called over the din of the bridge crew. "Point of origin?", Vassyl quizzically inquired. "Some several grid points over, very near the-", the communications officer stopped short, and nervously continued, "Sir- perhaps you should see for yourself". Doren raised an unconvinced eyebrow, and quickly strode over to the console display. Soon, a bead of sweat broke through a pore near the top of the Captain's head, as he achieved clarity on the matter. "Lieutenant", Doren whispered, his voice all but sapped of moisture, "Redirect the message to my private quarters, I shall sort this out from there". "Aye Sir", Clemens offered back in a confused tone, and watched as his superior made for the nearest exit lift.

"Has something come up Sir?", questioned Doren's trusted XO. "Indeed: I must see to it immediately", Vassyl spat back, regaining some of his vigor, "Until then, you have the bridge Mister Torbough". The Captain had little time to return a salute to his second-in-command, before the lift doors closed with a hiss. Having acquired solitude in his own chambers, Vassyl wasted no time in reviewing the curious correspondence. By the time the recording had finished playing, Doren had face-palmed a gloved hand firmly over his face. Of course, the latest order dispatch had instructed Commander Carbine's unit to increase patrols along the Sith-Imperial border. Indeed, who could have predicted the potential for a Sith armistice would materialize shortly thereafter.

No, it was not Rhoden's folly that led to this mix-up, but a disjointed response time between the Inferno's previous deployment and Doren's unexpected encounter with the Dark Lord. Nonetheless, the Captain needed to act swiftly, before the fragile chance for a ceasefire vanished from view. Taking to his desk-mounted transponder with a lightning pace, Doren prepared the following commands:

[Reverent Actual to Inferno Command, please relay the following to your away team. You are to stand down immediately. Any military action you take will be seen as a direct violation of orders and will result in a court martial. Though I cannot give a proper explanation at this time, know that any hostile actions you might initiate in this moment are directly contested by the collective will of the Admiralty and the Security Bureau. Do not engage, I repeat, do not engage. Observe the situation if it is tenable, retreat if it is not]

Vassyl hadn't the slightest idea what might be occurring within the bowls of the Reach. And yet, if it was a large enough issue to warrant this communication, Doren had every intention for becoming privy to it.