March of the Kingslayers

[Dastan Imatari]

Another near sleepless night. Dastan whipped the sweat-soaked sheets from his body and flung himself out of bed with a mumbled shriek of horror.

Cursing, he stood from sitting at the side of his bed, catching his breath. At this point, he didn't even remember his dreams anymore. Though he knew that his fragile human mind had seen and done things beyond regret that haunted him. Regret- a strange thing. Despite the atrocities he had committed, the lives he's ended, regret wasn't one of the many emotions he had. Though the constant stress weighed on his mind, as well as his affinity with the force gave him a few issues behind closed doors.

Dastan had a hard earned gift of stealing people's thoughts and memories from their minds. Along with this came some side effects. Gleaning some emotional distress, pain, the like. Memories that aren't his own often creep into his subconscious, emotions, thoughts. He was intelligent enough to know that they weren't his own, but they still had adverse affects.

Today was going to be another long day. Breezing through his morning routine, hard martial practice in the cold mountains, meditation, then cleaning up quickly. Dressing himself in his typical garb of heavy utility clothes under his tunic, breastplate and gauntlets, he marched his way from his headquarters on Roon to his starfighter.

He flopped himself into the surprisingly comfortable seat, and powered on the engine. The hatch shut, and Dastan plopped his helmet over his head. It's familiar weight on his neck felt comfy today, where it normally would feel slightly restrictive. He jacked his helmet into his computer, and punched in coordinates for a jump.

He was heading to the citadel on Ziost. Dastan was going to do a bit of shopping at one of the delivery points for their military's new vehicle shipment. They were receiving a shipment of light fighters that Dastan was going to requisition for himself. He had found a small handful of qualified operatives, and was building a small group of elite trained and veteran troops. There was a mission in mind, and Dastan, as always, was planning something.

As his ship lifted from it's gear, and nosed up to the atmosphere, he began scribbling a quick message via speech to text... Sent to key sith lords and knights across the cloak of the sith.

"Citadel on Ziost. Meet any time this week. I've contacted the best arms dealers in the quadrant. A week long arms conference is taking place.

If you need anything, for yourself or your cadre- just bring credits- you'll find it here.

Glory to the Sith"

An arms dealing networking conference was about to begin. Small. Black Market. Expensive. It would last the week. There'd be several big names there, and even governments both selling and buying here. The Sith may not have much to gain personally- other than the income that the event would pull, and gaining more reputation after the mass schism... but Dastan was about to gain a foothold in his new goal.

[Kell Sangros]

Warvanus had seen the message, he did not think it was addressed to him as his status in the Empire was not of renown, only that he was an apprentice to the Emperor. It was not his style to ride the coattails of his Master. He wanted to make a name for himself. He would , he knew this he had to be patient. Training right now was the pathway to salvation. Regardless he had a stash of credits and it would not hurt to check out this conference, maybe he could get some new gear. Maybe even get a deal or a good down payment on his own ship. Anything was possible he figured. He had freshened up and dressed. He sheathed his blade behind his back, his dagger at his side.

He took a shuttle to the main citadel on Ziost. He wandered around gazing at the wares these dealers had brought with them. He had little to no use for blasters. Those he passed bowed their head in respect. He was a sith afterall. He had noticed the message’s author was the one that they called the agent. He had briefly met him in the beginning stages of operation Red Cell , however he did not stay with the task force for reasons still unknown to him. He knew he was a Sith Lord of status. He had heard rumors that he was looking to establish an elite starfighter unit. He was no pilot. He could pilot a shuttle but he was not a starfighter pilot. In truth he had never tried. Even back during the days he was still Kell Sangros. He was a warrior , a terror on the battlefield, his foes and the foes of Tormentous would come to fear this new Sith. He had the blood lust of a serial kiiler and no remorse on any life he took. He was ruthless when it came to vanquishing his enemies. His sole drive was bringing glory to the Sith on the battlefield. He walked along the hallway his hands folded behind his back his senses alert ready at a moment’s notice of any danger.

“Now” he thought to himself….. “Where to begin?”

[Slade Xandir]

"With the time you spend reading, keep in mind not all of it is meant to be taken in by you," Blood began, looking between a pair of chrome and golden eyes. His son and daughter watched him, both holding a pair of books they chose for themselves out of the Sith's athenaeum. Lilith had one of the works done explaining the Rule of Two, whereas Raphael had the distinction between Basic Combat Forms. "They are meant for you to learn of, not from. Life experiences are what you learn from."

Just as his sentence ended, his holowatch beeped, a transmitted text from the Agent tipping him more information, along with anyone else he chose in the overall message. Weapons, arms, armor, ship dealings and other trinkets he remembered fluttered through his head with no problem at the mention, and he pondered his armory. Was he really equipped properly? He too knew arms dealers, but the Agent had more than likely gone far and wide for this deal.
It's impolite to keep a man waiting...and especially to refuse a gift.

Blood looked down at his children, Lilith already scrunching her face at the first page, whereas Raphael was flitting through the pages and looking for pictures and names.

"Fox, take a ship and head to the flash market on Ziost. Pick up 14 sets of thermal grenades, make an order for a Z-95 Headhunter, and dock it in the third terminal on NA. Also, pick up some new armor for you and Mercy that you can get with that bounty cred sack secured a week ago."

Mercy stood and made her way towards Blood from her corner of the walkway, breeze from the outside gently lifting her wall of hair in a gentle sweep. Confusion was definite in her words as she asked incredulously, "You're trusting that frog with a black market deal? And to even go so far as making an order for a ship?"

Blood turned to her, patiently responding, "Just as much as I'm trusting your consistently hot temper and repetitive vulgarity with my prodigies."

The message was clear, and Fox watched it unfold with emeralds set more on Mercy than Blood. Mercy was volatile, but not stupid. She settled her side with silence, crossed arms, and dropped it. With a nod from Blood, Fox was sent on her way. In a taxi ship, Fox left the moon and traveled to Ziost, aniticipating his first solo task.

[Dastan Imatari]

The main showroom was massive- a few hangar bays opened up to display starfighters, surrounded by other heavy weapons merch, as well as power packs, explosives tech, and small arms. Some even had hovertanks, and hoverspeeders converted to military armor spec for transferring high value targets in relative secrecy with great protection.

Each company had either a booth or a large section of the floor displaying their merchandise. Salesmen pitching to potential buyers. Salesmen networking with one another, making deals for the best price. Everyone was either in formal or business wear, other than some of the promotional marketers- some using 'sex' to sell, many others wearing their tactical merch- looking like hi-tech private military. Which in reality- most really were.

Dastan walked with one of his security commanders through the aisles of booths and batches of ship parts toward a specific banner he saw raised slightly higher than some of the others in the area- apparently looking to sell private military gear, as well as heavy weapons- a drop-ship catalogue of all things, and a display of a modded razorfighter displaying a sleeker look, and heavier weaponry. Even private security contracts... Something Dastan happened to be looking for.

Things seemed to be going swimmingly for day one. Money was piling in from all interested markets paying the empire for booths, as well as admissions to high end clientele.

Reaching out with the force as he walked through people- just to get a good grasp on the situation here- there were a handful of other force sensitives here. Sith, likely. Though there were several hundreds here, and there were still several hours left of showtime before people locked up, and left for the day.

[Kell Sangros]

Warvanus was standing by one dealer looking at the various ships he was offering. Nothing was grabbing his fancy, he needed one that would get him from a to b and be able to defend and outrun if needed. He had also been working on modifications on some body armor and that was nearing completion , he would hope that by wandering the various arms dealers that he would find inspiration on his own armor. There were alot of buyers here, but right now he didnt focus on that. He was looking for something he couldnt say what he just knew he would know it when he saw it.

[Slade Xandir]

Fox had made it to the planet, the taxi ship dropping him off fairly close to the marketing event, which he clicked an extra credit at the pilot for. Meh, why not. Dude deserved it.

Just coming down the ramp, emerald irises latched on the back of a familiar head that stood out from the majority of helmets and horns that made the crowd.
He knew that raven hair, slicked all coolly. It had to be his buddy Warvanus. Some familiar company would easy his newness here, as he wasn't too fond of the majority of crowds. Jogging to catch up with the fellow Apprentice, chestnut spiked haired man made long-legged strides until he was just on the side of War.

"Yo, bro, how's it fairin here? I see alotta shinies, but nothin worth snatchin. You here for anything worthwhile?"

[Dastan Imatari]

Dastan had stopped along the way and met with one of the admirals of the Sith Navy. Their conversation was brief, as if they had a previous conversation or correspondence.

"Admiral Dorven." Dastan greeted the Admiral from behind, as he was in mid conversation with one of the commanders of a private military company.

"Lord Imatari." the tall, gaunt man turned to Dastan, showing his red bars on his uniform. The lines in his face seemed to harden, and his face drained of some blood as he looked upon the Sith Lord.

"The end of the week is upon us. I hope I can still count on your word, and our agreement stands firm." It wasn't a question.

"Of course," the man nodded gently, ""My Lord. " then straightened quickly, and gestured to the uniformed man beside him. "Actually, Commander Pax here with the Vigr Security Company has agreed on a contract a few hours ago." The man beside Admiral Dorven gave a tight lipped half smile and a nod. He looked like a military man. Hard, experienced, not too old, not too young. His uniform was dark gray with blue and white accents, wearing a pistol belt, and wore lightweight duty boots. Utilitarian. Dastan liked that. No flare like the Sith Military had.

"A pleasure, I'm sure, Commander." Dastan gave a nod, and turned slowly, "I hope you will see that our relationship will be a fortuitous one."

"Indeed, Lord Imatari." The man gave a nod in return.

"Excuse me, gentlemen, I've got matters to attend to." Dastan remarked as he walked away. He was polite when he needed to be. Plus, he respected Admiral Dorven, he was one of the top admirals in the Sith Navy- a respected strategist, and tried and tested in several campaigns. One of the 'old dogs' looking to live out his days in his position, because this life was one he knew. Also, the Vigr Security Company was a well respected Private Military company. Mercenaries with a fancy title. They were very well equipped and had a great track record.

One of the last few stops he made was to a Warrior who marched behind Dastan in the battle on Ziost. Another impromptu meeting- though as he approached, he saw another familiar face. One of Lord Blood's practicals approached the warrior Dastan had his eye on. Caring not, Dastan walked over anyhow to greet them both,

"What a surprise to see one and a third of the people I wanted to meet with." he stated as he approached the two. His seemingly always-present helmet doing the digitizing of his voice. "Warvanus," he gave a nod in greeting, and then looked to Fox. "Fox." His tone was not as friendly as the words he was stating. Though before they got to interject, Dastan continued to Fox- "Is your Master attending the convention?"

[Kell Sangros]

Warvanus nodded to Fox “Hello Fox” he used a tone of familiarity, he liked him but that would not stop him from anything he had to do in the name of the Empire. “I was looking at armor looking for inspiration, I’ve been modifying a suit and came for ideas” he paused “and a ship if the price is right”

He sensed Lord Imatari near, the host himself he thought to himself and sensed his approach, he turned around to face him and gave him a friendly greeting “M’lord Imatari” he bowed his head in respect to the Sith Lord. “Thank you for your invitation, You have amassed a nice collection of arms dealers” then his words kinda hit him like a fastball He had personally invited him and wanted to speak with him. What would a Lord of the Sith want with an apprentice such as Warvanus. Either way he felt honored. He would extend the curtesy on giving him his time and attention “I am at your service M’lord” he said It was this man who had helped keep the Empire together in his Master’s presence.

[Kroxata Akhoi]

The Dreadlord had already made his presence on Ziost, being chosen as to ‘supervise’ the various incoming scoundrels and traders of the black market. With Darth Tormentous and his followers unable to attend, it was his right as the leading foundation of the military wing to at least see for himself the offers that he could add to his ever growing arsenal. He had not yet had the opportunity to test the might of the Sith against the likes of the Alliance and the Empire, only a fool would not take every precaution in the coming days of war that would inevitable fall onto the doorsteps of the galaxy.

Despite the clear advantage he would take in such a black market transaction between the Sith and their benefactors, Kroxata did not take much pleasure in this event. He saw the black market as a offense to any sense of honour within him, his pride feeling defiled by standing in the mere presence of the filth that surrounds him. Even those that came in a legal respect were seen as nothing but wretched to the Dreadlord, warriors and weapons were not bought, they were forged, crafted, built, then again those that forge the weapons do offer it for coin, it made sense but felt a cheated way.

After his illuminating amber eyes past bye every face, many that turn back immediately look away feeling a sense of dread followed them, until he finally set his eyes on familiar faces. A worthy warrior, an agent shrouded mystery, and a pawn of a treacherous fool, the two magnaguards behind Kroxata ensure no one dares touch Kroxata, his military rank as a Dreadlord meant he was one of the few leaders the Emperor would not want dead. He began marching forward, his bodyguards following ensuite.

[Slade Xandir]

Fox didn't thoughts as far as armor enhancements, as he had none. Hell, would be nice if he did, but that was why he was here. "Man, I'm here just to get some hard hide for me an' Fury, and a few therms. Same on the ride though; we might end up getting another one, if it's shiny enough."

Fox turned emeralds to the man in the suit, and instantly recognized the scent in the Force of who it was. Well that, and the armor he recognized. It was the man who headed the Red Cell dash not too long ago.

Fox offered the Corvione Salute to the armored man at the greeting, though his lips stayed shut until he was asked a question. That was how S had told him to handle any interaction with anyone outside of their pack, telling him it was to protect their secrets when in truth Slade was trying to stop him from just talking too much. After all, Fox did have more bronze than brains.

"Is your Master attending the convention?"

Damn, was he? S didn't really give him any indication that he was, but it was almost made clear he didn't have any expectation of being there. Wasn't that why he sent him? Or was this something bigger than a cakewalk?

"Wadn't downed on me. He jus' told me to go swap creds for a few trinks, and lope back to base." Was an honest admission, atleast.

"Did'ja need him snagged?"

Fox was still deep in speaking Corvo slang, so Galactic Basic wasn't his forte. But truly, if Dastan wanted his mentor, Blood would sent a beep his way.