The Red Cell

[Slade Xandir]

They docked at the Victory Valley, and to their surprise it was quite empty. Then again, Tormentous had very few favorites, and they did come from far reaches of the galaxy. Their slaughtering of dreams wasn't all in one neighborhood, obviously. So when they docked at the landing pad, it wasn't a problem for them to get to where they needed to be.

And affront it all, was The Agent. Fox kept himself imposing, his natural instinct of looking uninterested and fully capable of handling any martial arts thrown either his way or at his Alpha's. Mercy however, became stiff. Blood didn't have to turn to look at her for him to feel her out. But Fox, curious man he was and caring for his pack sister, turned to ask her.

"Yo, Fury, what broke?" Emeralds searched the side of her face hoping for eye contact, but her light hazels remained on the front of that masked man, the man Blood had worked with. Did she know him, perhaps?

"Nothing," she snarled. "It's whatever."

Blood wasn't concerned; Mercy could well enough handle herself in a fight as much as he sparred with his Apprentices. But he was curious what had gotten under her skin at seeing Dastan again. Memories, maybe?

Approaching, Blood greeted the other Lord.

"Lord Dastan."

[Xendiss Rayne]

The marching drew in closer... and closer... and closer... the rallying forces sought to surround her, sprinting down through the huddled corridors of the Dreadnought, echoing through, paying warning to their impending approach. Though a darker presence carried itself behind the forces - one all too familiar to the utter rage that she exuded in its purest form of essence. One she dreaded, yet prepared mentally for, forcing herself to snap out from the horrified trance, induced by the ear-piercing ringing of the ship's alarms.

Most of the lights in grey metal corridors had been stripped with the destruction that took place, cutting the supplies of electricity in and around the terminal that had been sundered completely with the flying door. Yet another scene, all too familiar - the sombre interior of the ship, dimly lit with a bloody red hue from the alarm that rung over and over with the same, monotonous screech.

The myriad of steps drew in, slamming down and echoing through to her distance, where she simply stood in the centre of the hallway. Her exit had been slow and steady, trembling in motion but now, she froze completely still, readied for her fate, but she demanded the presence of Kroxata in her mind - so that she may cut him down. Xendiss was not prepared to go down without dispensing punishment - vengeance through means of justice, albeit the less heroic kind, now she was fueled by a riddling fury.

"Halt!"

She wasn't even moving. She didn't even flinch at the sudden roaring command from one of the officers, who was leading the forces that surrounded her in an arc around each opposite side she possibly could have escaped from, blasters at the ready and aimed towards every inch of her body. Scanning across each and every opponent on the side of which the darkness enveloped and carved its path through the ship towards her, the youngling calculated her next moves, their life essences pulsating before her Force Sight, yet was easily distracted by her ultimate enemy that came as a simple red swirling mist before her vision.

However, the arrival of the anomalous figures that were the Magna Guards caused her to completely angle her body towards the oncoming wave, tensing up muscles and clenching fists in preparation - she hadn't expected this, and had trouble perceiving them compared to those of the living, but she could make out what their intentions were with the spitting electrical energies that spewed out from their staves.

The skill of each and every droid was a threat to her, but the flying sparks didn't loosen her fixated intention upon that of which they parted aside to let walk forth - Kroxata. She felt like hatred incarnate, ready to lunge - ready to pounce like the feral beast she had become, allowing her unbridled fury to set free in a feline advance, preparing her bloodied knuckles and scratched nails to thrash and claw him to death.

It was him and her.

And now, confusion. Time froze, locking them both into another plane of their own, where she stood, yet again, at a complete halt. Tension rose as he strode towards him, but his offer held back any attack she was to make. It was miraculous.

The offer to control this power... this grand, unprecedented hatred and anger. Harness it into a weapon of justice so that she may twist herself into a fist of darkness to deliver vengeance against all the wrongdoings in the world.

At least, that was what the very last specs of purity that was becoming quickly becoming corrupted by an emotionless craze. Holding no aggression, she simply steadied out her breathing forcibly, heaving massive breaths in her respiration, attempting to get a grasp of why she had not been cut down yet. Offered this... power. Could it even be labelled as such? Congratulated!? It was terrifying and she knew it. Contorted, warped in nature. Deep down, she held an affection for the feeling. Xendiss was possessive over this newfound attribute, and was not willing to open up, hugging herself warily as Kroxata approached.

It was true. Logic still remained, somewhat, and it struck her that he was truly her only salvation. How else was she supposed to avenge the death of her parents-

Perfect.

Fight fire with fire. Accept his teachings... rise above him. Kill him in her kin's name.

The toll was hefty, but the sacrifice was worth it. Why had she not fought of succumbing beforehand?

"T-teach me." Her voice was crooked, coarse and harshly spewed out in a demonic tone that had overtaken her once innocent tongue, broken from her screaming. Yet, it still carried a contradicting light-hearted purity as she stuttered in her speech.

[Dastan Imatari]

The dark side sent Dastan a twinge, a tingle up the back of his neck. Not always great at deciphering these subtle messages the force sent him- he didn’t know exactly what that meant. Because of that, Dastan felt out with the force as he descended the ramp back to the ground outside. Indeed, more arrivals for their upcoming trek.

Three, in fact. Though only two familiar- and one of those… he thought was dead. Slade greeted Dastan directly, though Dastan tilted his head-

His vocabulator slightly digitized and flanged his voice- but it creeped out a growl.

“You-”

He then reached up to his head and his left hand found the inside of the helmet’s under-ridge, and unhinged a clip. A small hiss was heard, and he lifted the helmet quickly, tossing the hood from his head. The sun touched his face, and revealed it’s new pallor, darkening eye sockets, and now- near glowing sulphuric burning eyes. He wanted to lay unaided eyes on the underling of Slade- the female. Make sure he wasn’t losing it, or just mistaking her for someone else…. No…

His gravelly voice drug across her name, “Mercy.” His mouth pursed, and looked to the Sith warrior Slade before him. “This is going to require some... explanation.” his voice spoke coolly, as he couched his helmet under his left arm. It was a split decision between drawing his blade to cut down the girl he saw as a deserter. Though she was with the confirmed sith before him, so he assumed there was more to the story than he knew.

The last time he saw Mercy, they were en route to a force nexus. They were to converge, at the location, but Mercy never showed. Dastan assumed she either died, or deserted. This left him to fight off a verpine jedi master on his own. He had the scar over his eye to remind him of that day every day.

-----------------

Inside the polygonal room, Kell sat alone. Though from a hallway he would hear a droid enter. It was a 3p0 protocol droid carrying a tray.
"Pardon me, Maste- Oh! I see the others are beginning to arrive. Pleased to meet you, I am Ec-3P0, at your service." The positive voice the droid had was typical of the unit, and it shuffled into the room toward the acolyte. "I take it you will also be a part of this mission to kill those blasphemers?" Strange, the pairing of the positivity in the droid's voice, and the subject matter of massacring caecilis loyalists.

It may seem strange, but indeed the droid was Dastan's personal assistant. He didn't take slaves, so he used droids.

[Kell Sangros]

The polygonal room looked very spacious; it was empty with the exception of him. Others soon would be joining and filling this cabin. Warvanus sat there in silence, his mind replaying recent events. A lot had happened in the last couple of days. He had hoped that this mission he was joining in would be pleasing to his Master as it was his enemies that he sought to destroy. He also hoped that he would learn much on this trip and continue to grow in the Force. At first he did not notice the droid walking in. The droid seemed startled but found amusement at it’s question. He was certain that he was programmed this way. He found it amusing

“EC-3PO, A pleasure” He nodded at the droid before continuing “You may call me Warvanus, and yes I am here for the party” he said with a wry smile. Droids in his opinion were the perfect assistant; they programmed their functions to the T.

When the droid shuffled off, Warvanus returned to his thoughts. The upcoming mission, the blood he would spill in his Emperor’s name. His thoughts drifted to the visions he had been having. He had recently acquired some armor from the Quartermaster on his Master’s ship. He would need to make several modifications to forge it into something fierce some. He returned to his thoughts as he felt a surge in the Force. He couldn’t identify the source but that was because the source was from someone he was not familiar with. Though, he did recognize one presence just outside the ship. Lord Blood was someone that Warvanus was somewhat familiar with. Though one thing was for certain, when all was said and done his “social circle” would be bigger good or bad.

[Kroxata Akhoi]

The Maul descended into the frozen mountains and frozen terrain of Ziost giving a perfect view for all the followers of Tormentous to see the newly elected Dreadlord's presence loom over his followers, his warriors, his eternal army. The crowd praised with cheers upon seeing the sight of their Emperor's fist, the engines of the Naga class Dreadnought roared much louder and boomed a much greater radius, causing the very ground to shake momentarily whilst the Maul plotted its new course. Although Kroxata had much to teach his newly chosen apprentice, but time was of the essence, a recent transmission summoned the Dreadlord to once again hold the banner of Tormentous, to purge the corrupted of their taint.

In the primary Docking bay of the Sith warship, two long line of heavily armoured Sith soldiers stood facing each other, creating a small gap inbetween then to allow their master to pass through to Kroxata’s Sith Infiltrator, the Dathomiri’s Wrath. And from the main corridors and narrow hallways leading to the giant bay of many small Starfighters and Y-Wings, the Dathomiri Hammer emerges. He marches proudly to the sight o f his loyal force seeing to his departure,both lines standing to attention, their weapons raised up across their chest, their armour completely black, their faces hidden within black helmets.

Closely followed was the tamed cluster of madness and hatred, the small blind girl followed behind the shadow of the beast, though Kroxata never caught her name, but neither did it matter, he did not need to know of her past. If she wanted to give her name then she shall, but as all Sith that follower under the Dark Lord Darth Tormentous, there would be a name given to her, one that symbolised what she brought, what she fueled herself with and what her master sees within the apprentice. Yet now was not the time or place to ponder such things, that would be unraveled during the trials of the Hammer, he reached the end of the impressive display of loyalty by his men, boarding the Dathomiri’s Fist taking his place aboard his elevated throne, a small seat was quickly crafted beside the throne to be the seat of Kroxata’s latest Acolyte and without a second to spare, the Sith Infiltrator burst from the mighty Maul, descending at a very fast past to the surface, the pilots setting their coordinates to the meeting point Lord Dastan had given him, Kroxata looked down upon his new Acolyte to the Dark Side “Today is a glorious day, it shall be your first trail, to show me your ability as a warrior, succeed, and i shall teach you the ways of the Dark Side, fail, your fate will be decided by the enemy.”

The Dathomiri’s Fist finally lands in a small landing pad merely yards away from the battlefield that gave rise to the new era of the Sith. Kroxata slowly rose from his throne strolling to the snowy wastes before him, assuming Xendiss had followed him, he takes a deep breath of air, “Can you not smell the blood flowing.” he crouches down feeling the snow within his giant palms, its cold touch mixed with the scent of blood brought chills down the Zabrak’s spine, he marvelled in combat, in war, this would be one of his favourite locations to ponder the battle of the Emperors. “A great battle was won here my apprentice, a battle that determined the fall of a corrupt Emperor, and the rise of a true Lord of Darkness. But we have not come here for me to tell this fins tale, that can wait another day, stay close to me, and do not bring any unwanted attention. You must learn to control your anger on your own for now, then I shall teach you to control it.”

He shows his hand to the vast valley, slaves and citizens the bodies of the many fallen still remain in the snow, slowly being consumed by the ice to forever serve as a reminder of the Dark times. Once again assuming Xendiss would still trust the Dreadlord, and not attempt to kill him yet, he would lead on to long strip of landing pad. A small collection of the Sith of the Red Cauldron gathered around a single ship, one would interpret it being Dastan’s, marching his way to the gathering forces.

[Slade Xandir]

Blood had current plan to clear out the situation other than to speak well on Mercy's behalf. But like that of an untrained phoenix, she snapped her fanged beak at The Agent, black combat boots breaking this formation as her fury overtook her compliance.

"Yea, explanation to how you just left me for dead and dropped me off in front of a dumpster pile on Nar Shadaa after drugging my ass. Explain that, Lord Dastan."

Blood couldn't exactly say she had a handle on the fire that drove her urge to burn down any and everything that she touched, but the pleasantries were immediate to burn. Not only between the trio, but with Blood's own patience.

"Fox, take her away for a minute. Just...get her out of here. Take her back to the ship. I'll call you when we are ready for her."

Fox knew how tight the tolerance was for composure with his Alpha, so he complied. Mass and proper position snagged Fury up and heaved her away, her final words scarring the air behind them.

"What, can't explain leaving your own damn Apprentice to rot?! Coward!"

Muffled sounds came after, no doubt the chestnut spike haired Fox shh-ing the violent vixen as they boarded some distance away on The Dominator".

Blood turned to Dastan, a deep breath being taken to make sure he had ample enough time to say the right words. He wasn't very fond of dragging his own packmates off like sacks of lab rats, but when something attempted ruining an opportunity for himself, certain measures had to be take.
He had no issues with this.

"She was found sitting in a terminal, trying to fix a saber that was never meant to work again," he launched right into the history of taking on Mercy.
"Savage and very not-subtle about how little she cared for our existence. Fox went to introduce himself, but his charm was ineffective. I went to diffuse the situation before we got jailed for murder. But soon, she lent an ear to my cause. I had stumbled across a Sith Acolyte who went missing, Dark brown black hair which predominantly covered the entire identifiable chunk of her face with hazels that scorned anything that came at her sideways....missing. Until we found her. "

A second bled between them before he continued. "A creature who was up to no good under the tutelage of one of Preshi's own students. A short run she had, and one of the first things she threw from her tongue was your name. Along with how you or anyone you associated with were unnaturally quick to betray someone at a cruel Master's behest, with a scarlet saber to her own neck within the first few seconds your Preshi examined her."

Golds truly stayed on the front of Dastan now, examining every possible crack that could reveal something this secret man didn't originally let free. Did he really not care for his own packmates? So little enough to the point of drawing weapons to them? Did he not appreciate the numbers they shared? To lessen them would only mean to diminish the power of their faction's leader. Everyone could be trained...
But could The Agent truly be trusted?

Blood never drew fangs with his packmates. Sure he could have slain her for uprising against a higher ranked Sithian than her, but if she is given grace to look even Tormentous in the eye, then she had no fear to any below the godlike Dark One. Hell, she had many secrets. But Dastan was more of a curse than a secret. A curse she both regretted, and refused to let down.

Blood worked a single mission with the Agent, and won a battle with the worthy man, as well. It was the combined tactical prowess of the 3 headed Cerberus Tormentous commanded that they even stood here to this day. But would one head conspire against the others to benefit himself? If that single dog was given the opportunity to free itself of the pack, would it betray the other two for that freedom?

Lord Blood waited for his own thoughts to settle, to clear the haze he swam through, to silence the voices that attempted proving Dastan was untrustworthy, that his own interests were not in favor of their Master.
He silenced them all, just to hear what the mysterious and anonymous Agent had to say on his own behalf, all those fateful moons ago.

[Xendiss Rayne]

Reluctantly, Xendiss follows forth behind the Dreadlord, shivering with hatred and the freezing cold that pierces even the interior of the ship, washing over exposed flesh through the thin tattered rags. Pains swells in her boots as she walks awkwardly, marching in angry stamps through the landing pad, listening to Kroxata as he talks on. Despite showing no aggression, Xendiss shrouded her pent up frustration and held no respect for the infernal Zabrak, rivalling his feelings deep within herself. Her intentions were set true, and she could not compromise her plan. Not now - this was the only chance she had. That was a brutal truth.

Silence ensued from her as she wandered on, forcibly muffling her respiration through the cold that manifested as clouds of misty, icy cyan as she listened to his lecture, displaying no protest nor interruption. This was something she had to prepare for; the infighting within the Sith over power as a Sith of such high stature informed her about the fall of one of their own. Just as she was told in the past, each and every one of them were tyrants battling it out relentlessly for power over aeons. How ironic he was that he branded the past Emperor 'corrupt', when he himself was a distorted figure of the contorted Force.

The offer, on the contrary, was greatly intriguing. She was going to need it if she was going to turn into a bestial warrior, strong enough to claim vengeance. Yet it was true only she could control her anger before he could help to harness it.

And she started now.

It begun by leveraging her hatred, turning its energies into an enveloping warmth - a boiling heat within her that forcibly composed her physical form, cutting her shivering into a light quiver, spasms of violent waves rippling every so often as a natural result of striding through the freezing docking bay. It was unstoppable, considering the torn black attire that she wore, her fragile figure and the general climate of Ziost. The cold was relentless, clawing and biting at her flesh and invading nerves, numbing her ear and turning her lobes into weighty blocks of ice, even through the tattered hood that she held over her head, cascading just over half-way of her blindfold - the only piece of elegance that remained upon her, as frost accumulated at the tips of the silken tassles.

Whilst she could not make out the white beauty of the cascading snow and the wintry landscape of the landscape, the Miraluka still perceived its outlinings, despite it being dominated and tempted away to the lines of troopers that stood stalwart, as if frozen in place. Their life essences pulsated and throbbed before her distorted Force Sight - she was able to comprehend that they were of a purer ilk compared to that of the beast she followed, and even weaker in dark strength in comparison to her quickly disturbed self. It was obvious they were in the service of such forces, however, as they as remained towers of stoic vigilance and strength, showing no doubt in their defence and loyalty. Such an official gathering, even something as simple and natural as a line-up of soldiers making way for the Sith Dreadlord, was extremely alien to her. And a strange sense of admiration for it drew her attention, further settling her mind. It was the little things that was caging an outburst, piquing her interest and diverting her away from rampaging and ruining her chances.

After the brief stride, which felt like forever, Xendiss hugged herself even tighter in anxiety and attempted warmth, having had her arms glued across her front, tucked underneath her breasts with a deep, self-comforting squeeze. The fury of the Sith of the Red Cauldron ahead did not evoke fear, as such, but dread to their reactions of her.

A twisted part of her hoped her aura and willingness would please them.

[Dastan Imatari]

He exhaled through his nose slowly before speaking.

"The Sith aren't a day camp. The Order does not suffer the weak. If you don't show promise early- display that you are strong, and capable, you will be left to rot."

He tilted his brow downward. "I need not justify my actions." his eyes darkened, and his lip almost curled into a snarl before he continued. "But Mercy showed promise. I gave her an easy task to show up at a location... She never showed. I assumed she deserted, or was killed." he shook his head. He liked Mercy, and couldn't help it. Otherwise he'd have just kept tight lipped, and wouldn't have cared for any of the accusations.

"But now is not the place, or the time for this, Lord Blood." He turned slightly, and gestured for the new sith lord to enter his ship, to traverse the ramp into his craft. "If they can keep under control, they're welcome aboard." he eyed the two apprentices.

After making the gesture, he noticed two more figures approaching.
"Good. It appears our last arrival is here. We should begin soon."

A tall, pale zabrak approached with another in tow. Certainly Lord Kroxata with that stature and gait.

"Lord Kroxata." He would give a curt nod, and looked to Xendiss. "And who might this be?" he asked, looking over the female. She was force hopeful for sure, as he could feel it within her. Unstable, raw, keeping potential, but untapped. Eyes covered- maybe blind, or maybe it was a fashion choice? He didn't know, or care. She was with Kroxata, which meant she was not useless, and that was all that mattered.

"You're both welcome aboard the Merciless-" he gestured for them to enter.

He wanted everyone gathered inside to briefly go over the plan of attack- and what it was that they were all up against. His ship was secure, and free from prying eyes and ears...

They were all involved in the battles previously, but had a few days to recover and get back to it. This was the life of the Sith- conflict. If they weren't already, now was the time to get used to being run ragged.

[Kell Sangros]

Warvanus sat at the table he could sense other presences ones he assumed were Sith Lords. There was not much for him to do. He simply sat and waited. The restlessness building, his blood quickening he hungered for battle, to kill, he lusted for chaos and savagery. Patience while a Jedi virture, was a tool even used by the Sith and so he would exercise it, doing all he could to keep his violent impulses in check. He would wait but for how long….?

[Kroxata Akhoi]

The mighty Zabrak approached the infiltrator, greeting Dastan with nothing more than a nod, no words were spoken and neither was his question answered for the identification of his follower. He deemed such information irrelevant to the current task, this was no time or the place to introduce his latest apprentice to the other Lords of the Sith, for all Kroxata knew she could be dead within the first weak if his judgment was misplaced, as the many before have proven. If she wanted to introduce herself to the other Sith she could do so as she pleased, Kroxata felt it pointless to speak for someone that could speak for themselves. He listens briefly to Dastan before making his way into the Merciless glancing back to ensure his apprentice was still tamed under his control, for the meantime.

Entering the Sith Infiltrator to be meeted by Slade and another Sith warrior that he had not have the pleasure of knowing, although this new Sith was completely unknown to the Dathomiri Hammer, he could sense the Dark Side sprouting out from this new Acolyte. To see Slade once again brought a little relief to know that some of Tormentous’ loyalists were able to survive, proving their strength to that of the Dark Council, with the corrupt Emperor at the helm. He takes his place in the briefing room awaiting Dastan’s report.