SithLore

The Sith had no ideal reason for being on Florrum. Nothing abstract, nothing hard-pressed for actual purpose. It was ironic, he mused. He was the man who had a reason for everything he did; so what was this about? Well, something to pass the time, something to get a kick out of. Blood had no perception of consequence, no real conception of danger. He was the one who dealt both- so how could he? How could he, in his most creative and exquisite of mindsets, consider meeting up with this Jedi Master to be problematic? It wasn't in the slightest. What hard would there be? They had already settled their differences on Tattooine. That in itself didn't concern Blood; it wasn't his problem, nor his business. Slade was the idiot mutt who wanted something special with that little girl. Blood could have cared less about the murder of the whelp. And the air-brained man reaped the error of his ways through defeat to this Verpine. A Verpine who was more than capable of sticking him in the chest with that pretty little Force trident he used so long ago. Of course he wouldn't let him have the kill easily, and more than likely he would attempt to toast and roast the insectoid with pyronetic abilities he had become quite fond at. It would be a bit more fun than what it had been previously, and without the fuss of Bonecrushers. He did adore animals and such, but only for their use to him. Nothing emotional, and id there was attachment, if was residue from Slade's little influence.

Sitting in his ship, the Infiltrator Slade had bought quite some time ago, Blood sat at the rotate-axis of the dimly and only partially illuminated bask of his communications place in the ship, the history box showing both the latest and oldest transmission made form the ship, all encoded in the hex of Sith language. Since coming across the language, it was mainly all that ran through Blood's mind, especially taking favor to replacing Galactic Basic as he had frequent conversations with his Son to ensure he stayed well and up to date with their language. The boy had yet to be fully turned to the Dark Side, but soon, so very soon, Siarbras Akute would be worthy of taking his Father's side at the helm of Sith Legacy. Standing Lords and Masters would take to them as the aspiration for their own teachings, and not far from attempting to etch their names in the hearts of fearful beings all across the stars. Yet that was for the future, not for here and now.

The Wolf scanned through the transmissions, listening to the fleeting words and back and forths either he or Slade shared within the time this ship had been in use. Farther back he scrolled, further and further until he came upon the link he shared with his own holowatch, both directly connected to the ship through server code. A pale face, one with tied back pale platinum blonde hair, deep sapphire eyes looking curiously into the lense as Slade awoke from something worse than a nightmare. Immediately he knew who this girl was, the innocent gaze searing something painful in his chest that he couldn't come up with a name for. He felt both dressed up and naked from the stare, and shaking himself from the face, he copied the transmission link and closed the terminal down from that category of messages, the last flicker of her face fading with the rest of the hologram.

Taking the link, he opened the interface on his holowatch and sent a direct link to it, the link the young Padawan accidently freely handed to the Sith. And once it was established, his silk baritones ran through the connection with eased calm.

"Verpine, are you still aboard this ship? If you are, I do have a little suprise for you through the little reach of dunes on Florruma's surface. Find me not by the terminal, but parked in the soft sands of the land. And if you would, come with nothing but a smile, as I have. R-5 are your planetary coordinates, Jidai."

Blood was disconnected before anything else flitted to his mind to include. The least amount of excess chatter, the more they had to talk about. He was of course lying about having nothing on him other than a smile. Everyone knew you could go much farther with a smile and a weapon. His smile was just enough for the show, but he wouldn't touch his sabers unless it was, well, tickling his fancy.

Sitting back in the leaning chair, the Sith Lord awaited either a response of a ship to compliment his efforts of coming across the Jedi's link. Time would tell if he were successful; if not then he would write it off as a lesson and take his leave.

A green beacon flashed rhythmically atop the console of the Varsity, Buggie's heavily modified Lambda-class T-4a shuttle. The shuttle itself was docked within the miniature ventral hangar of The Dagger, a CR-90 corvette that had been assigned to Buggie for use on jobs that required the extra capacity and heft that a corvette offered over a smaller shuttle or an unarmed Action V. This was where Buggie was currently occupied, and the shuttle itself remained vacant, that is, except for the faithful droid companion of the Jedi Master; the black and gold R7-series astromech droid, Twitter.

The droid, named for the sharp chirps that it often emitted when communicating with its master, took notice of the message and inserted its proper appendage into the shipboard socket. The droid commanded the ship to play the message while it downloaded its contents to the droid's own databanks. As the smooth voice emerged from the console, Twitter ran the speech patterns through those that it had already experienced in order to determine the speaker's identity. Finding no match, the droid caught one word at the end of the transmission that gave one solitary clue as to the speaker's identity.

Jidai; noun. Translation; Jedi. Origin language; Sith. The droid let out a low hoot.

* * *

"...Come with nothing but a smile, as I have. R-5 are your planetary coordinates, Jidai."

"I say we take The Dagger, blast him, and be done with it," Gary Storm, Buggie's ex-Antarian Ranger companion, recommended as the message played out.

Buggie, hunched over in his seat with his three-fingered hands caressing his snout, paid Storm's comment no attention. Instead, he was focused upon the message, feeling through the Force for some indication of what the future held for him.

"Play it back one more time, Tweets," he requested, adding to Storm as the message repeated itself, "My senses are clouded, but I feel that this is not a trap. There is some opportunity hidden in this message. I must go."

"Alone? Unarmed?" Storm questioned, doubt etched across his brow.

Slowly, Buggie nodded as his resolve solidified within his mind, "There is much I do not know about this Sith. He is volatile, that much is certain. When our paths first crossed, he placed Padawan Zorua Silver in my custody, yet the next time I encountered him, he seemed to be under some emotional distress about the young apprentice. I can only speculate as to what he desires of me now."

As Buggie rose from his seat, Storm placed a hand on his shoulder and asked, "Again, unarmed?"

With a waggle of his antennae, Buggie cheekily replied, "Impossible. A Jedi Master is never unarmed."

* * *

After a moment of searching the navicomputer once he was back onboard the Varsity, Buggie determined that the Sith was waiting on the planet Florrum, an arid world that had once been occupied by a pirate group that, at its height, would even make some of the Blue Star Pirates blush. Having left Twitter and Storm aboard The Dagger, Buggie did his best to abide by the Sith's demands. While it typically would be out of the question, since the Sith had provided Buggie with an apprentice in the past, it was feasible that the maverick Sith intended to do so again. To have weapons or companions with him would threaten the wellbeing of any potential apprentice the Sith may be offering, and Buggie was not willing to take that risk. As he engaged the hyperdrive on his route to Florrum, Buggie once more listened to the message from the Sith, feeling every word for some hidden meaning.

Blood spun around in the chair, enjoying the light silence he had to himself for the moment. He was along, for the most part. Valkyr stood guard in the very front of the doorway, guarding against absolutely nothing, as there was no threat aboard this sulfuric, sandy planet. The Wolf ended up standing and making his way from the communications room. Just down the hall, he turned to the box he had brought with him. A heavy durasteel box, hexcodes on it, plain and basic. Matte black with gold accented trim across the edge of the lid, it was a hefty thing. Could have been anything in this box, whether it had been a bomb, a corpse crushed into a compact size, or a mound of credits. But all in all, it was a gift to the Jedi, something more of an appreciational gesture for what the Verpine had done. He had helped the Sith Lord tremendously, and the creachoid hadn't even known.

Ensuring the box was sealed tight, the Sith went to change into garb that would give more protection against the occasional sandy winds of the planet. He dressed in light clothes, then encased himself in a 'borrowed' survival suit. The helmet he would clasp just over his head once the company arrived. Blood knew quite well how disgusting sulfur smelled, along with how easily annoyed he would get just from the pesky pungency. So the recycled and filtered air from the suit would keep him calm and collected while in the face of his 'adversary'.

Until then, he would meditate, and give himself the needed mindset to take on this situation. He was going to set himself up in a meeting, for distinctly no reason, with a Jedi Master. He remembered the Verpine bringing no weapons whatsoever to their last encounter, and considering it to be something worth remembering, he noted how even in the Force, the alien summoned a weapon that was fully capable of maiming, slashing, penetrating and pulverizing. That trident, something he had never seen done in the Force, It was an ability he wanted to learn, himself. Might consider doing it. But regardless, this Jedi was powerful. And he had taken the initiative to call him to this remote location for a meet up. A non-hostile one, at that.

Maybe he truly was mad.

Silence... and then with a burst of momentum, the Varsity broke into realspace just outside of Florrum's orbit. As the sublight engines kicked in, Buggie vectored the shuttle toward the planet, with no place in particular as the destination. That, Buggie planned, would be resolved by the sensor array aboard the Varsity. There were few major settlements on the planet, so by parsing them out of the sensor sweep, Buggie theorized that he could hone in on the power source of the vessel that had no doubt brought the Sith to this barren world.

After a few minutes, results started to scroll across the shipboard display. Weighing each result with an appraising multifaceted eye, Buggie determined which power sources were most likely belonging to the Sith and plotted a course. As the Varsity eased its way down through the upper atmosphere, Buggie remained cautious of any Sith interceptors which may have been looking to prey upon him in his exposed state. Florrum was relatively close to the edges of the ever-growing Sith dominion, and a Jedi venturing this close in a starship not designed for combat could prove deadly.

Finding that his descent was uneventful, Buggie breathed a small sigh of relief. His ship would have been visible across the yellowed skies as it came streaking down into low orbit, but no one attacked. Beyond that, he was satisfied to find that one of the power sources his sensors had picked up on had indeed led him to an unfamiliar vessel. Within, Buggie could sense the familiar, feral presence of the Sith Warrior. As he brought his shuttle down onto the dusty surface of Florrum, a geyser on the horizon burped a spew of sulfurous gas into the air. The atmosphere was breathable, but Buggie wondered to himself if the machinations of this Sith Warrior were as foul as the pungent air he was being forced to drink in.

As the boarding ramp touched down, Buggie looked out at the Sith vessel across from him and proceeded down, his simple clothing relaying the fact that he was, as requested, unarmed and unarmored.

He felt more than saw the ship break through the atmosphere of the planet. He felt the aura of this Jedi, memories that weren't originally his brining him in that familiar scent and sight in the Force, that blinding and seemingly unending wave of white, way beyond any ivory or alabaster he had ever mortally seen. It was scented in innocence, flowers and meadows of untainted calm. A place where he could pretend he, and anyone else, was at an undone mercy of rolling peace.
But the Wolf knew better.
There was no true thing as peace, and if it did find it's way to him, then it was stagnation, which only led to death. How this Jedi managed to fool everyone else, it was indeed a gift, a gift he both admired and loathed. Jealousy, perhaps? He could understand it.

Time felt as if it stopped, only to start again and relax its strained sleep, dreams moving delicately across the wretched sands of this planet as Blood felt the Verpine settle strange digits in strange sands. Such a queer creature a Verpine was, but every creature was a living thing, and once he became mastered enough, one day those bendy knees of that very Verpine, would kneel to him. One day. He would simply have to keep increasing his skills.

Standing and turning to the viewport, Blood watched with interest the green alien leaving that box, and embracing the wilds of this planet. Snapping the helmet on, Blood went to knock a hand on the release button of the ship. The hiss of the pressures sounded muted through the dome atop his head, and he paid even less attention to it. Even before the ramp completely hit the heated floor, Blood was striding down it, his body moving him forward to continue this meet. The man felled the distance in a moderately fast manner, wasting as little time as possible as he tried keeping himself controlled.

Eventually, he was within vocal distance to the Verpine and he chose then to eye the creachoid. A casual up-down. Less intrusive than his gnawing desire of pulling apart the fabrics covering the alien and forcefully searching, only for that search to be more than brisk, twisting or arms, splitting of skin and limbs, spew of vile fluids, yanking tendons and gorging on the green gore and carnage that followed so soon after-

"Hello, and welcome. It's been a while, Jedi, it has. A bit too long. How have you been?"

A subtle smile was politely painted across the lips that murmured cordial greetings. The Sith Lord was feeling a bit more in a good mood than his usual roundabouts, and he decided to show it in confusingly generous gestures. Gestures such as asking first, and killing later.

Buggie was completely caught off-guard by the warm, cordial greeting that the Sith extended his way. The man was now wearing a helmet, but beneath that protective layer, Buggie felt certain that the man who had greeted him was the same as the one he had once faced on Tatooine.

"I've been well, as has Padawan Silver, if it eases your mind," Buggie replied, careful to keep more than an arms length away from the Sith at all times.

Buggie, for his part, was very much still in the stages of sizing up the Sith that stood across from him. As Buggie's multifaceted eyes examined the Sith's armor, he was relieved to see no obvious weapons dangling from the Human's belt. He was trained to seek out dark side threats, and here one stood before him. While the man wasn't necessarily threatening now, Buggie knew all too well that could change depending on which way the wind blew.

Within his jacket, Buggie had stowed away a secret ace; a date-marked holorecording of Padawan Zorua Silver. If the man lost his mind again over the girl, at least Buggie could present the holorecording to placate him this time. His response to the greeting had been calculated as such; mentioning Padawan Silver was meant to test the man's mental state. Perhaps the Human had called Buggie to Florrum with charitable intentions, but if the Sith did intend to settle their score, perhaps he would make the first move now, when Buggie still had the opportunity to scramble back to his shuttle.

Blood listened to the response, invisible ears perked at the tune of words flittering from those mouthparts of the creachoid before him. Silver. Zorua Silver. That little girl that he had nothing to do with. Nor wanted anything to do with. She was the gem he wanted Slade to take, to twist, to turn, to corrupt, and to make serve the purpose of the Sith; instead the rebellious dog had sent her away to be with the Verpine. Blood knew why the wretch had did it...Slade knew he wasn't going to last in this body. He knew he wouldn't have the strength to handle such a matter a few months after he had even gained possession of the girl, and thus sent her away to find her own fortune being a puppet to koktus, mindless grotthu meistras, who preached peace and unity. It was near maddening Blood having no hand in her upbringing, and a crack almost severed his façade into a shatter of virile insanity.
But his control remained and forth came a reply to the Verpine.

"How quaint; it is a sad thing to say, but he who gave you that little darling was not me, though it seems to be. He is not I, nor I him, despite our appearances. Much has changed in this body, Jedi, but nothing will be told to you until we sit at a dinner table one day, and discuss more intimate details of ourselves to each other. Might come sooner than later, or might not; who knows."

Brushing through the conversation with an eased hand, the pied piper continued his song.

"But just as he, I've brought you a little gift, a bit of affection in delicate form," he silked out, "Nothing breathing, I can assure you," he punctuated with a little wink that seemed less genuine as it was charming.

It was then Blood summoned his Cathar from the ship, the war droid he had since he kidnapped her and killed her in a profitable manner. From the ship's ramp descended the matte white and black accented cathar shaped droid, carrying the black box in dangerously clawed hands. As prior described, the box itself looked elegant with just a hint of 'be careful' to the cautious eye. But who had time to be cautious, other than a Jedi?

As she made her way to the pair, Valkyr stood next to Blood, and placed the box between he and Buggie, the heavy and large crate sitting in the sands of this smelly planet. Making his eye contact back to the glistening one of the Verpine, Blood gave a offering gesture to the presented box.

"This, sweet adversary, is from me to you. Only you, considering it is a gift. But if you wish to share it, then that is your personal opinion. Mayhap others will enjoy it. If not, I implore you hog it all," Blood pressed gently, "for yourself."

Blood chuckled lightly as if the box itself told a little joke, and he crossed his arms, looking down at it.

"Despite me asking you to bring no weapons, whether you had or not, you could easily kill me on this planet. But morals, sweet, sweet and ridiculously silly morals don't allow such things. You don't have any proof that I have even harmed nor killed another. And sometimes, Jedi, it gets a bit strange being a Sith. As I'm sure it does being a Jedi. But you all have a tendency to take things in stride easier than we all do. Just as I'm sure many of my peers wouldn't approve of this generous act I bring to you, nor the act Slade himself has done for you with miss Silver in the past. I would be killed for treason, more likely than not...But surely Tormentous sees the purpose in my actions, and won't condemn me for their usefulness. This in itself," he nodded his head towards the box. "Has a purpose. I won't indulge you in what it is, but you will read through the lines, eventually. However, the real question comes now," he drove the subject to it's hanging.

"This lovely thing that lies in it's temporary home; would you like to open it aboard your ship, atop the surface of this morbidly distasteful planet, or within the realms of my own ship?"

So many cards all at once. Blood had just admitted to the Jedi that he was most definitely weaker than the Jedi, and as he had learned, the Jedi had the power to summon a weapon from just the Force, itself. That took nothing but power. Utter wieldable power, control, and resilience. Blood had nothing of sorts. Nothing but words, illusions, mind games, and treachery. Well, and a bit of sociopathic and psychotic tendencies, but everyone had their crazy moments, didn't they? It took humility to admit weakness to anyone outside yourself, and as a Sith, that was unheard of. However, he was the most non-stereotypical man, unpredictable, and oh so good at it. Would this Jedi feel safer opening this box within the confines of his own ship, with surely loved ones aboard it? Would he risk his own self just on the surface of the planet, in the mist of the Sith Lord, saving face of whoever lie waiting his return on board the Varsity? Or would he disappear within the gaping hole that lead into his own Infiltrator, potentially never coming out? So many different decisions, and anything could happen.

It was a tightrope the Jedi walked, and only his faith and curiosity would sate what it could. What stemmed from it was decision-making abilities, and a calling of the right choice could be any.
Blood knew what lie in that box, along with the one who filled it for him. But what would Buggie risk to find out?

Buggie cocked his head as the Sith spoke, referring to their past encounter as if it had been with a completely different man. To Buggie, this was the same Sith acolyte that he had encountered on Void Station and later on Tatooine. Certainly the Sith's aura reflected a higher degree of training at this point, compared to his previous two encounters with the man, but that in itself did not leave enough room to mistake the Sith for another. Had the man been tainted by the dark side of the Force? Had he been possessed by a Sith spirit while in search of greater power?

That question remained to be answered, and Buggie was now faced with a question of his own. A black container now rested in the sand; red specks of dust having settled in along the bottom of the ebony case. The question itself was what should he do with it? The Sith had invited Buggie aboard his ship to behold its contents. That option seemed to replace one danger for another; to open the box aboard the Sith's starship would mean that whatever trap lay within the case would be unleashed aboard his own ship, but it meant placing himself in bodily danger in the event that the Sith had an assassin droid waiting to strike while he was distracted. Buggie opting to open the box aboard his own ship meant that he was safe from whatever trap awaited him, with the exception of whatever was within the container.

Perhaps nothing of danger lay waiting within. Perhaps that's what the Sith wanted him to think. Certainly, the man himself acknowledged that Buggie was more experienced in matters of the Force. Evidently, the Sith opted now for trickery and deception to prove his superiority. In any event, Buggie's curiosity was piqued, and he didn't intend to let the contents of the black case pass him by.

After a moment of consideration, Buggie gestured to the black container and replied, "While this planet is filthy, whatever lies inside can always be cleaned with a proper sonic scrubbing. It is proper manners almost everywhere in the galaxy to open a gift in sight of the person who gave it to you. It wouldn't do to open this aboard my own vessel and rob you of seeing my reaction."

Softly clacking his mandibles once, Buggie added, "Tragically, the last Sith I encountered gave me a beating to remember, and my knee does not bend easily. Could you do me the favor of opening the box?"

Buggie's knees were fine, but the Sith didn't need to know that. His move.

Two hand of cards...
🅦🅗🅞 🅦🅐🅢 🅖🅞🅘🅝🅖 🅣🅞 🅕🅞🅛🅓, 🅕🅘🅡🅢🅣?

"While this planet is filthy, whatever lies inside can always be cleaned with a proper sonic scrubbing. It is proper manners almost everywhere in the galaxy to open a gift in sight of the person who gave it to you. It wouldn't do to open this aboard my own vessel and rob you of seeing my reaction."

The Verpine sectioned off one of the options, the other two being left to wiggle tantalizingly in the air. His ship, or out here. It would have been rather unfortunate for him to even get the creachoid the idea of being on the Sith's own ship opening a gift from himself. As courteous as it was, it was more of a lethal ordeal, and Blood wouldn't have been too sure he would be able to contain himself from snatching the Verpine up right then and there, whisking him away to a planet to slave in the name of the Empire. But the Verpine would more than likely find a way out, while somehow managing to free the slaves or cause some other disaster- he would have to do something about that, and that something was too much work for him, right now.

"Tragically, the last Sith I encountered gave me a beating to remember, and my knee does not bend easily. Could you do me the favor of opening the box?"

A raised eyebrow almost looked comically high enough to flutter right off of his face. This Jedi was perhaps a bit too comfortable for his own good, asking the Sith to do favors for him, and such. Almost immediately the pieces fell together, and while not calling the Verpine's intended scheme, he honed in on a different fact- The Force. This was a whole Jedi Master. How exactly would he have considered himself a Master if he couldn't trouble himself to open a box, whether it be with his hands, or the Force? If that were the case,

"You might as well have a Padawan do that for you; I do not stoop to do favors for the Jedi. This was merely a gift of acknowledgement, Green Skin. Not a favor. Use Akuyi. If you can breathe weapons to life from it, lift this box's top. Should take even less effort."

A low buzz reverberated through the air from between Buggie's mandibles. The Sith had called his bluff, and now wanted to move things along. Buggie sensed no imminent danger from the box, so he decided to take a few steps forward and just open it himself. Anticlimactic, but in the end, Buggie was better served to not test the Sith's patience to the point where he broke. Such a needling would only serve to cause more of a rift between Buggie and the man who had once bestowed upon him an apprentice. What transpired on Tatooine proved that they were enemies, but if this truly was a benevolent gesture by the man, Buggie would not delay the big reveal any longer.

Buggie knelt and placed his hands on the lid of the box, careful to probe with his senses in the event of danger. What Buggie would not do is call upon the Force to do what his hands were perfectly capable of achieving themselves. The Sith man may view the Force as a mere tool; but Buggie would never use it for such a utilitarian purpose.

Sliding a chitinous digit beneath the lip of the box, Buggie lifted. As the lid popped off and fell backwards to into the red-brown grit, Buggie beheld what was within with curious eyes.

His antennae swaying, Buggie looked up at the Sith man and asked, "Why?"