A Returning Passion

[Kressara Thryn]

“Why don’t you accompany us, miss Kressara? Why don’t you stop what you were doing and sit on a huge ship that gives you motion sickness while we muck through a wild planet in search of a map, Kressara? Why don’t you take control over a big bumbling battleship that I don’t realize you’re completely unskilled in commanding because you’re an assassin and a small vessel dogfighter, MiSs KrEsSaRa?” Grumbling to herself as she finished suiting up, Kressara lamented the loss of a perfectly good stretch of potential vacation. She’d been working overtime lately outside of Sith perception to ensure her cartel was thriving, growing, and well guarded, on top of working with Sa’ato towards a handful of goals between them. Not to mention all the gathering and plotting she’d been exhausting herself with for a special surprise intended to rile up Silas someday soon just to see the new lord of the sith scramble.

Armored bodysuit, additional lightweight armoring, gear, weapons on every belt and strap, taloned boots, and a dark duster to cover it all and keep her warm in the cold of space; Kressara stalked from point A to point B with an unamused, flat expression, her envoy jogging to keep up after realizing she’d left fifteen minutes ahead of him. By the time the poor man caught up, she’d practically arrived without him.

Protocol, operatives waiting outside each ship in lines for their commanding officers to arrive, and the sith who commanded them. So intentional and clean, professional and honed…Kressara contrasted it all walking with a lazy wave of her hand at the Torment’s boarding party. Dreading another large vessel excursion, she called behind her to those intended for her command, “Let’s get this road on the show, ladies and gents! Triple check known mechanical failures on board and make sure all munitions are operational. If so much as a single one looks funky stupid nasty, I’m personally seeing to it that each one of you eats a piece of this vessel upon our return. The size of the part depends on the gravity of the oopsie, do I make myself perfectly obscure? None of us are dying out there because Susan in the engine room forgot to run the numbers…sorry if any of you are actually named Susan! Not a callout. You’re doing great sweetie.”

Silas struck an entire box of nerves dragging her along on this little fetch quest. As such, she was making no effort to filter and mask her personality towards her assigned crew in the slightest, nor was she concerned with any of the others in the port hearing her unusual method of commanding, including the sovereign himself.

“Bonus points to the first operative to find me some caffeine pills. Don’t pretend like none of you have them either. You work on call for the sith, I know your hours look more like the figures you should be making for working them, so fork up the goods and I’ll make it my life’s mission to kiss your butt the entirety of this excursion. Believe me, none of you want me running this poodoo show on motion sickness meds without a little pep in my step.”

Shocked into obedience (some of her crew recognizing her from previous missions and actually relieved to have her at the helm, surprisingly enough) a nervous young woman stepped out of formation and handed Kressara a packet of pills to help her negate the effects of her medication. Grateful, a smile finally returned to the face of the grouchy glitbiter who praised, “Oh, now that is top quality service from an outstanding soldier. I’d promote you if I could, ma’am. ALRIGHT! Get on it then! I want this ship to make those other two ships look mismanaged when you’re done with it!”

Kressara waited by the loading ramp while her crew marched in, popping two pills more than any human being should ever ingest in one dose, then a couple of tablets to keep her from puking her guts out on the journey.

[Yarkar Edetar]

"I apologize Lord Sovereign, I knew not of your new title. I heard only of you in rumor and whisper when I was an apprentice of my master. Your presence is there, even when you are not. It's a wonder to experience a myth in person." Yarkar smiled, knowing it was in his best interests to keep on the good side of the Lord Sovereign. He felt the presence of Silas as well, it was not one he was willing to fight with. He remembered what happened the last time he challenged someone out of his league, and he doubted Silas would let him live for the insolence...

Yarkar bowed, leaving to gather his things with haste. The Force swelled in his chest and his eyes glimmered with hate as he thought of how the Alliance would crumble to their knees at the Sith onslaught. Yes, it would be beautiful. He looked at himself in a mirror, adjusting his cloak to cover as much of his skin as possible. It felt almost more protective than the layer of orbalisk underneath it as he felt his fist clench, the leather underneath stretching to cover the gaps. It felt so foreign, like he couldn't trust it. He never wore it when fighting with Tormentous, and it was not yet battle-tested. It would be soon, however, and he could feel the darkness that seeped throughout it. Comforting, yet unknown.

As Yarkar marched upon the Ascension, his voice echoed like the ignition of his blade. "Crew, today we are going to be making a move. We are on our way to Manaan, as I'm sure you know. You shall remember one thing and remember it clearly. We are perfect. Not a single move will be incorrect. Our tactics, mysterious and precise. Our formations, unbreakable. Our stealth, impeccable. The Alliance will not even have time to remember our names before they are cut before us and erased from history. You have Sith on your side, and that makes you invincible. Now. Get ready to launch, as this ship will not have a single scratch upon it until it reaches the battlefield. Am I clear?"

Yarkar stares at soldiers, many of whom are significantly older than him. Yet, that stare. Yarkar held a hatred in his eyes that not even his youth could hide from the masses. His blade and his voice carried with them the might his master instilled in him. He spoke to them as a child, but to himself he felt like a warlord. They could almost feel it, the sheer rage as the Force shimmered and shook around them. While they couldn't feel the Force, they felt the forces of hierarchy and social pressure. As the blade fell back into its hilt, they all went their ways, knowing that Yarkar meant what he said, even if he looked far too young to say it. He'd watched Tormentous give speeches too many times through his childhood to fail giving one himself. It was instilled into him, like a father's mannerisms into a son. The apple didn't fall far from the tree, so it seemed.

[Silas Karn]

Once the ships had been boarded and disembarked the three vessels made for their cursed target. Despite his outlined operational instructions Silas had his personal ship quietly boarded into the docks of the Torment as he trailed Kressara in darkness of the shadow step art all the while suppressing his presence (Force Mask).

The immense tedium of travel through the void had begun to grate upon the Dark Lord. Perhaps due to his own unique heritage the Sovereign grew to despise the long seemingly wasteful hours that wore away at one’s capacity to remain battle ready. Additionally, Silas had long known that the silence of his quarters on any vessel left him alone in introspection. In the midst of these doldrums the impact of his polar opposite of his reserved, stoic personality in Kressara could not be understated.

The Dark Lord took to the crow seemingly always toying with her as a serpent. It was these tendencies that once more led to the Sovereign silently observing Kressara leading her crew through the key moments of departure. Once the important procedures were completed Silas followed her as she left for her assigned quarters. First releasing the Quytek technique guarding his presence from being detected and waiting for Kressara to sense him through the unnatural darkness he maintained. Frustratingly the crow did little more than tilt her head in slight possible recognition before continuing on.

Finally the Dark Lord dropped his guise entirely. “Disappointing really, I’d had hoped you’d strike out at the darkness.” Awaiting her reply a wry smile coursed the countenance of the Sovereign. “I await the day you actually reach your true potential. Perhaps then you would be able to stand before me as an equal.” Silas continued to toy with his prey even as Kressara continued to naturally place him back on his proverbial heels.

[Kressara Thryn]

“Ma’am! Your place at the helm is prepared! If you will follow me!” An operative saluted in Kressara’s direction, which she waved off with a small annoyed sneer. Never was much one to enjoy superficial shows of respect. Her caffeine pills not yet taking effect to counter the haze of her motion sickness medication, the pearl toned blonde strode lazily behind her guide into the hull of her assigned ship with an obnoxious itch on the back of her neck. Call it an assassin’s intuition, or that sixth sense for being watched that most creatures with a pulse possessed, but she felt like the nothingness in their trails wasn’t quite so empty after all. Eyes stayed forward, ears trained on the space behind her until they reached the bridge where Kress would be making commands and watching their progress from a wide display.

And then Silas stepped from the shadowy mask of whatever darkness shaded her peripherals, taunting her like one of her own nagging thoughts came to life and took humanoid form at her side. Stifling a snicker, she retorted, hands behind her back, “And why would I strike out at the darkness when ignoring whatever’s sneaking around in it works twice as well at half the energy expended?” Slowly craning her head to the side to glimpse him, a snarky curve of her glittering red lips matched the unphased look of chem tired eyes. “And why would I want to stand as your acknowledged equal when you’re so much fun with that cocky self important smirk? I mean really, look at you, thinking I couldn’t knock you on your echani backside. Adorable, sir~”

On his heels indeed. He might have been a snake striking at her feathers to ruffle them, but his bites were venomless and she was all too entertained watching him try to get a rise out of her. After all, bugging people you enjoy was her way of showing companionship too. So naturally, Yarkar needed to be bothered just as badly.

“Want to hear something funny? The kid thinks we knew each other years ago when I was fairly new here. Chances are, we did, but hell if I remember. Apparently I was something of a rival to him…but I can’t even remember his face.” Chuckling, she opened a voice line between her and Yarkar’s comlink.

“This is Diamond Crow testing the connection. Do you copy, Small Badger? Small Badger? Do you copy?” Giggling through her teeth, Kress shot Silas an amused look and dropped into the captain’s chair, both legs draping over an arm and crossing over one another as she kept poking at her surprise rival. “Smaaaaaaaaall Badger, check one, check two! Respond if you can hear me! It’s usually a little button on the side of the comlink that switches channels, if you don’t know how one works…” Whistling like a bird, Kress continued to pester the kid until he answered, or until the ships took off.

[Jacobi Wylcott]

Whales in the night sky. Ships of war meant, designed and developed to kill in the most effecient yet savagely brutal manner possible for the purpose of shocking the surviving targets - crushing morale. Such meaningful tactics were well among the traditions of the Sith Armada. While even still subtle methods were valued all the same. Where a hammer represented much, a shiv could yet achieve. So was another starship in the lee of a shadow spilled out from the others. Though unlike the others, this one was miniscule in comparison. Nothing more than a cloaked Sith Scimitar adrift aside to heat bloom of the larger vessel's engines.

Invisible to scanning equipment thanks to advanced Sith technology. Invisible to the naked eye for proximity to the blinding glare of a warship's main drives. At the helm of this slight and descreet ship sat none other than Tormentous. Lord of the Sith.

Much time had spanned from when the operation to overcome the Manaan people had found its conclusion. With the hiatus setting in the proper hierarchy had effectively disallowed the most significant of stagnation and kept the proverbial ball rolling. Currently the Dark One had no intention of strangling the current interim Lord off the throne - after all, he had kept things together after the sudden and 'unexplained' absence. Instead Tormentous would use the very guile and stealth that his ship was using to get in close, effect the mission positively, reap a horrid tally of vengeamce among the Selkath people - and effect his own means in proper form.

Should all go to plan his presence may even go unnoticed the entire forray. Sometimes the most helpful means of assiting his own people was to indeed remain in a form of absence. Fortunately to set the proper path in this, the command codes to the flagship's navicomputer had yet to be changed. It was a simple thing to slave his own system to the parent vessel. Where they would jump, he too would proceed forth.

This left Tormentous much time to set his plan into motion further.