SithLore

Though it had been quite some time for the two to have parted ways and for much to have trespassed throughout the time from which they last spoke, the Sith Lord hadn't exactly forgotten the arrangement he had brought up to the Imperial one known as "Captain Doren Vassyl". There was plenty of territories to be had, and Blood knew the unquenchable lust to dominate everything he could put his claws on would soon come to fester in his heart. He had already felt the itch of it that while back when he first came to meet those Imperials, but the only thing preventing him from spreading the infection was the potential casualties that would ensue had he scratched that pestering itch. His Son was in that fight; still a whelpling, he wasn't prepared to lose him, just yet, no matter how ignorant to the grander scheme the Silver was. Because of this looming disease however, it was inevitable that Blood indulged himself just this once. Seems it was time to flex those ambassador muscles, once more.

It took nothing but a word for both Valkyr and Raven to set up a link deep from the Reach where they manifested a beam powerful enough to touch the fringes of Imperial Territory. And with it was the direct seeking of that once heard Doren. He wanted to know if therewas more to this stalemate than what met betwixt them, that day.

Within the signal was a single message- just a basic request to speak to Doren Vassyl.

"Sir, we've got a ping!", a startled Security Bureau technician yelped. "Oh? What's the origin point?", and enthused Major Brant cooed, grinning from ear to ear. "That's just it Sir", the tech continued nervously, "If the readouts are correct, it seems to be transmitting from-". "The very heart of the Reach", Heiys interrupted, the left corner of his lip twitching with excited energy, "Have we decoded the message?". "No attempt was made to encrypt it Sir: see for yourself", the younger agent answered back, handing off a data slate to his ever-beaming superior. Brant raised a quizzical eyebrow, and soon took to reading. The contents of the transmission were concise and brief, yet there was one line that nearly cost the Major his composure. Yes, one single, centripetal name, "Captain Doren Vassyl".


***Feriae Junction, Thesme Sector, Outer Rim, Grid Coordinates O-5***

***Mondo the Hutt's Flavor Junction: Bar and Grill, Junction City***


Two months. Vassyl had waited two months for this day. Of all the urban eats and diner stops along the Hydian Way, few matched the local and intergalactic prestige of the Flavor Junction. Having consistently survived the tumult of rebel insurgence and Sith assaults, the Hutt-owned business enjoyed an ever-expanding menu of oily opuses and flavorful facsimiles. Doren had patiently marked the days leading up to his posting en orbit, and now, with the biggest placemat he could purchase, the Line Captain was free to indulge the full scope of the establishment's culinary creations. It was not often that Vassyl had the opportunity to merge work and leisure. And yet, when the opportunity presented itself, the young officer seldom refused.

“I’ve got an order of Boffa Rings for a Mister- Wiseau!”, a server droid clumsily called out. Doren frowned in light of this mixup. The Captain attempted to raise his voice and correct the error, but the droid was faster, and louder, “Order of Boffa Rings for a Mister Basil!”. This was becoming a major irritant. “Mister Fazo-“, the droid started once more, before the Vassyl shot up from his seat and forcefully flagged it down, “Here! Over here you insufferable scrap heap!”. Doren trembled slightly in light of his caustic remark. Thankfully, the absent-minded waiter didn’t appear to be wounded by the Captain’s comment, and lazily plopped a food tray in front of him. With lean and hungry look, Doren soon forgot the previous incident, and took to devouring his appetizer.

As Vassyl chowed down, his eyes wandered from his meal to the other denizens of the Flavor Junction. A few Bith downed drinks in uproarious laughter in one corner, whilst some humans in various garb swapped stories in another. Curiously, for a moment, Doren met with the scrutinizing gaze of a female Zygerrian. As soon as she noticed Vassyl’s own scanning gaze, the woman hurriedly turned her head, acting as if the moment had never occurred. Lost in thought for a moment, the Line Captain sloppily dropped one of his newly acquired victuals. The deep-fried vegetable plopped unabashedly on Doren’s trousers, producing a visible level of dismiss across his face. Sinking back into his seat, Vassyl moved to produce a solution from his belt.

Then, without warning, the scene turned upside-down. In mere seconds, several of the gentlemen from before came bounding upon the Captain, knocking over his table, his lunch, and the officer himself. Flustered beyond compare, the prone Jaeman sent an uncomfortable hand skyward, revealing a simple gray handkerchief. “What is the meaning of this?!”, Vassyl growled as his captors applied magseal clasps to his arms and legs, “I am an officer in the Imperial Navy, I demand an explanation!”. “We know who you are”, the Zygerrian purred, glowering down at the beleaguered human, “Line Captain Vassyl, you’re under arrest on suspicion of high treason and attempted sedition”.


***ISB Bulk Freighter Apocrypha, Several Hours Later***


“Lets try this again”, a stocky protocol unit persisted, an electrowhip gingerly coiled in one hand, “How long have you been colluding with the Sith?”. “About as long-”, a weary Vassyl mused in response, “as the rust has been colluding with your processor unit”. “Tsk tsk”, the droid answered back, before lashing out at the defenseless Captain with its torturous instrument. The sheer shock of the weapon locked Doren’s jaw. At the same time, the microscopic barbs lining the exterior of the whip caused Vassyl to scream through his teeth in utter agony. “Humor will get you nowhere Captain”, the droid ribbed, and prepared to strike once more until it was subsequently interrupted by Heiys’ timely arrival.

“Stand down Tee-Three, I’ll take it from here”, the Major commanded, squatting down to observe the writhing mass that was Doren Vassyl. “I apologize for your treatment Captain”, Brant lectured, his eternal smile grating on Vassyl’s more than ever before, “But you can understand the director’s concerns”. “Major”, Doren gasped, attempting to maintain what little composure remained within him, “If the bureau truly suspects- me of treason, I think you may be in need of another coup”. Heiys face wobbled for a moment, and quickly released a gust of hot air and a genuine chortle, “And if you were a traitor, there’d be little hope left for the sanctity of the Navy”. With a flick of his index finger, the Major depressed a button on his wrist module, and the Captain’s restraints deactivated and crumpled to the floor.

Slowly and painfully, Doren rose to his feet, and wasted no time in asking, “Cut to the chase Major- what’s this about?”. Heiys’ smile widened, as he gleefully answered, “The Sith have sent a rather curious message our way. They want to stage a meeting, and they want you to be our liaison”. Vassyl attempted to halt his jaw from dropping to the ground. Just when the Captain thought he understood his opponent, they continued to prove themselves unpredictable and spontaneous. “I can assure you Major, I in no way initiated this correspondence”, Doren explained, still working to make sense of the development, “It’s hard to believe the Sith would play this card in the first place”. “You anticipate a trap?”, Brant asked, pursing his jovial lips. “I don’t know what to anticipate”, Vassyl countered, “That’s what scares me”.


***


After several holocalls and the lengthy deliberations of the Admiralty, it was decided, for better or worse, that the Captain should go forth and attend this mysterious meeting. Manning the helm of his newly acquired TIE Avenger, Doren finished relaying hyperspace coordinates to two identical units flanking either side of him. With a deep breath, the young officer flicked a handful of switches on his communications console, and soon began transmitting from the inside of the cockpit. Given the distance from the Reach to the Jaeman’s present position, it was necessary to run his message back through the Reverent’s own radio subsystems.

[Unidentified Sith emissary], the nerve-stricken navy man began, [This is Captain Doren Vassyl of the Imperial Third Fleet. In response to your previous communication, let it be known that I accept your offer]. Vassyl’s heart sunk some as the ramifications of the situation set in, adding, [I am prepared to meet with you face to face. There is an old weather observation platform positioned just above the seventh moon of Maridun, on the very periphery of the system. It is abandoned, unmonitored, and will serve as a neutral venue for our talks].

Thankfully, Doren had removed a pirate cell from the facility some months prior, and was more than happy to choose a location he was already familiar with, [You may come alone, or you may bring a retinue of no more than two personal guards. Know that I shall oblige the latter option. If you consent to these terms, you need only appear in the system. Coordinates will be beamed to you shortly]. As soon as the feed cut out, Vassyl massaged his temples in anguish. This was going to be a very long day. Looking off to the side at the familiar frame of a Victory-Class Star Destroyer, Doren consciously wondered if he’d see it ever again. Then, unerringly, the Captain initiated the TIE’s hyperdrive, and vanished from view.

Blood was immediately notified of the returned transmission, and though it was a slight while after their meeting and much had trespassed since, he wasn't upset over it as he usually was for being made to wait. He actually had a liking to this Imperial, simply because he could not only taste the awe and relief he and the rest of his bridge shared as the Naga left them alone, but for the man being ballsy enough to gamble with them on a negotiation. Whether it be through a whisper of hope or a shock of ignorance, Blood was willing to trade cards with this man.

Sliding a clawed hand through the list of textualized words, the Sith Lord listened to them as he read them, golden irises scaling through the text as horned ears inhaled that crisp speech. He more than likely was a man of uniform, of duty, of obligation to his Pack. Musing over the context, Blood finally issued the command to the Warborg Cathar, Valkyr, who ran the tests on his Infiltrator before sending it a green light to be released from the Naga. Lifting his newly muscle amassed form from the hovering chair in the communications room, he stretched slightly before directing his seven foot high frame through the threshold and beyond into the hangar, where he was accompanied by Valkyr and Raven in the lounge setting of the horizontal ship. As Valkyr took hold of the controls, Raven meditated in a corner of the ship's available space, and Blood ran a course of his own mental preparation. A list of things needing to be accomplished through the tripwire situation.

He was dressed in only a front-back ceremonial loincloth garnished by embroided Sith lettering which spoke gracefully through garnet silk backdrop. The front cloth, though tailored to not be underfoot, the back gave slight length across the floor in a regal train of only minimal accessory. Across his chest was an amulet bound in several woven gold thongs, all strands reaching a length that allowed them to sit across his neck like the upper half of a chest guard. It was his piece of Dark Side incarnate, which would swell with toxic black fumes through the crystalline body as he became more in connection with his affinity of Dark Side prowess. More like a catalyst until needed, it stayed dormant, an ornamentally bound ruby against his broad onyx orbalisk-scaled flesh, connected to the rim of his cape which too matched the design appeal of his lower half, dragging only just barely across the floor. The dual horns erupting from his forehead gleamed a sinister smile in the dim light of the ship as it flew through and past several systems to make it to the arranged meeting place.

Only an hour away from the meeting place, the abandoned station, did he feel his impatience attempting to bubble up past his tempered level for it. But out of trust for the future he would have to ensure went the way he wanted it to, he simmered the molten and viscous energy down as they closed distance to the destination. Floating but anchored in place by it's own gravity field, the station was motionless if not for a minor turn by elemental pull. Bubbled, it had it's own artificial atmosphere on the inside, and the Infiltrator had wasted no time to dock just on the end of the shelled platform of a landing pad. Connecting to the docking tube, the doors opened as he and Raven left the ship to Valkyr who would man it until they returned.

The miraluka-hybridess was draped in an oversized cloak, hood overshadowing her pale grey face from any eyes that might try to figure who his company was. Her body was also shielded from any type of discernment other than her short height, which was just below average of a basic humanoid. She stayed just beside Blood, then allowed him to take lead as she fell back by a step or two to survey the area through the Force.


"Company nears,.." she warned him as her amethyst irises found his topaz through the nocturnal front of her dark purple hood.

"Excellent. Valkyr should have the ship draped in invisibility while we wait."

Checking the map of the area, Blood and his Phantom walked through the halls, making a left and furthering their trek until they reached the meeting room. Choosing a chair off in the farther right of the middle's side facing the door, the Sith Lord sat, his spiked tail wrapping the majority of it's thick girth in a semi-circle around him on the floor. Raven poised herself in the shadowed corner of the room, nothing immediately visible from her end other than the red gem that glowed in the center of her shade-veiled forehead.


And together, they waited for the arrival of one of their biggest factional enemies.

The trio of TIE's broke from hyperspace at the edge of Rolion Sector, and began to snake their way past asteroids and ice clusters en route to the derelict station. Vassyl had just confirmed the location of the meeting site with his visual scanning, when an intelligence relay pinged up on his transponder screen. The Sith had arrived, and were seemingly at rest within the main meeting hall. Despite some protest and argument from dissenting officers, the station had not been rigged or booby-trapped in any manner, though it possessed basic surveillance that fed back to the various vessels helmed by the Security Bureau. [Making final landing checks now], Doren announced in a nervous voice, as he slowly eased the Avenger into one of several hangar tubes.

The Captain was knee deep in removing his flight suit when his associates arrived soon thereafter. Vassyl paid the two little mind, as he had worn his standard uniform underneath his pilot's attire. Dusting himself free of any lint, Doren straightened up, and initiated a slow march down the main access hallway. Flanking him on either side were a handful of the Empire's finest. Standing off to the right was the imposing frame of Major Tec Reves, a seasoned army vet and leader of Omega Team Four. Across the way on the left, the slender form of Warrant Officer Tilda Zeren was no less intimidating, and no less vital a component to the same prestigious unit. Both were clad in the specialized onyx armor that designated the duo with the sinister designation of Deathtrooper.

Vassyl, for his part, was honored and relieved to be in the company of the two operatives, having previously served alongside them on Anaxes. However, given the circumstances, the young officer sincerely hoped their skills would prove unnecessary. Arriving in front of the large blast doors that fed into the conference chamber, Doren halted to address his confidants, "Keep your weapons armed but lowered: as far as we're concerned, this is a diplomatic mission". The commandos were silent for a moment, until they quickly set about priming their rifles. "I hope you're right about that Sir", the Warrant Officer mused with an icy tone. "As do I Officer Zeren", Vassyl softly conceded, "As do I".

Stalling no longer, the Captain stepped forward, causing the diagonal cross-sections of the door to part with a slight hiss. As soon as Doren laid eyes upon the enemy dignitaries, he almost immediately regretted his journey. One of the enigmatic pair appeared to be a tall, hooded maiden, the sort that exists only in horror holodramas. The other, if they could still be classified as human, seemed to be like some draconic entity found in the mythos of Vassyl's homeworld. Even the Omegas, for all their training, could not help but stop and stare at the bizarre hosts that lay ahead of them. Doren, for all his fears and anxieties, wrestled to find the will to speak within his shuddering form. He had come this far, and suffered quite enough simply for the being summoned by name. Vassyl could not afford to falter now.

Raising his arm into a meditative salute, Doren mustered all the valor he had to spare, cleared his throat, and started, "My sincerest thanks for your agreeing to our one-sided terms on such short notice. I am Line Captain Doren Vassyl of the Imperial Third Fleet. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance". Vassyl wasn't sure if he believed his own words when it came to "pleasure". Indeed, "terror" would have been a more appropriate adjective, but showing overt fear was as good as a death sentence when it came to the Sith. Taking his own seat opposite to the Dark Side monstrosity, Doren's guards fell in line behind the high-backed chair, their helmets tipped down to survey the potential hostiles. It was time for introductions, and with any luck, answers.

Whether the Imperial meant to or not, Blood could taste the contest of flavors that were imbued in the heart of this uniformed man. But it wasn't the flavors that held Blood's eyes; it was the Imperial's face. He recognized that face from a far off time, a time where he wasn't exactly himself. A time where Slade held the coil of the mortal body, where Blood hadn't even been strong enough to take over, yet. When the Slade everyone knew was a mentally fractured and misled soul.

This man held a name on the tip of his forked tongue, and with a roll of air and memory, it slid out with slight amusement. "Pleasure is all mine, Arrow."


The memory sparked through his mind in a whisper of 'then and there', recalling the Imperial being launched at him and his Master aboard the ship where he had met the one he learned to be "Kota". Much had happened since they had last seen each other, and of course Blood had changed. No doubt the Imperial had to, as well?

"We are more than flexible when it comes with matters of business. And this is something that seems to have more fortune than fate, so I can guarantee there are things that will be negotiated to benefit the both of our Packssss..."

Motioning to the chairs, he gestured for the party to relieve themselves of their rigid postures.

"I insist, seat yourselves, and let's begin this eclipse of affiliation."

The pleasure is mine, Arrow. The last word caught Vassyl like a vice-grip, constricting his windpipe and flattening his face with shock. The behemoth of a being that addressed the Captain, based on wordplay alone, was very likely the assassin he had faced over Nirauan several cycles past. What a mysterious inevitability that the two would meet once more, and under such unexpected circumstances no less. Doren's face continued to twist and contort as the intermediary continued his opening remarks. Business? What sort of politico-corporate machinations could the man possibly have in mind? The Empire and the Sith were at war, that much was painfully obvious. So why the wording? A buyout perhaps? An attempt to convert the Captain to their sinister cult?

Vassyl face retreated back into a pensive scowl. The young Jaeman fought hard to stifle a minuscule snicker. Him? A traitor? Doren had every confidence that his bodyguards would shift paradigms to dual executioners under such conditions. No, there had to be something more at work here. Then the figure's "guarantee" entered the rhetoric. Negotiation? It seemed like an impossible reality. And yet, the Sith were here, adhering to every stipulation that Vassyl and his overseers had put forth. Though every subconscious fiber of his spirit told Doren to turn tail and flee the scene, a tenacious curiosity steeled his nerves and dared him to see the meeting through to the end. Without further hesitation, Vassyl sat down in congruence with his fellow emissary, and habitually laced his gloved hands together on the table. "Affiliation is a strong word", Doren began with a neutral tone, "Since this discussion was your originally your initiative, perhaps you might tell me what you would ask of the Empire?".

Blood watched the Imperial, and reveled only slightly in the effect it provided. He had to remain focused, conscious of every word he issued to this assembly. What went down here would be given to whoever Alpha Doren reported himself back to.


"This is a cause worthy of strong wordsss," Blood confirmed. "What I have in mind is to conjoin our powers, releasing a tirade of unquestionable might across the galaxy. With combination of Sith ruthlessness and Imperial cunning, much can be accomplished. Our two assets can work together to control the trade routes rather than fighting each other for them. As we alternate between leaving base, the other can keep watch as the absentees enforce whatever discipline need be wherever they bomb it. There will no longer be a need to split forces to watch backs. Proves most valuable when we consider how tedious it is to crush sprouting Rebels."

The Alliance had gotten under his skin, from the refusal of the gift he had offered to the Verpine to his constant encounter with Neive. He wasn't sure what affiliation that Zabrak considered himself, but Blood knew he wasn't Sith as he had tasted pieces of Light Side in the fool, and he refused to take chances. If he was Alliance, Blood would most certainly have his wicked way with the incessant pest.

Blood hadn't considered exactly how far along the train of 'unforgiven' the Sith were on the Imperial's list. He did realize, however, that there were several Imperial prisoners in the cages and cells on Dromund Kaas, and with the memory of faces that the Sith Lord possessed, he recalled several he had passed. All of them glaring at him when he was still human, all with the face of impassable fortitude, their lips remaining sealed as they refused to spill secrets Tormentous wanted to know without having to flex his powers.
Another shot of winning the Imperials over.

"As you all have our bound and binded, not only can you keep them, but you can surely have the majority of your own shackled and chained ones back. In my reign, none have been even been looked upon. They also serve no purpose to my goals, which contradict their presence upon our prison's harbor. Even in delivery of them, no fire will be laid upon your forces, if you all may commit to the same respect."

Not only had the Sith Lord given them more bodies to keep in their arsenal, but he had also told them no exchange of death-dealing would commence if the prisoners were dropped off at their base. Blood knew how profitable this Alliance would serve to be, especially in consideration of Tormentous reappearing. Blood would need allies while he took down the most powerful being in the galaxy, even if they had been enemies prior. Someone to watch their backs while they were occupied trying to kneel Tormentous.
It brought to the forefront of his mind the last trump card he had, but he would hold his tongue untl the Imperial ran his thoughts over the offerings and requests.

Conjoined powers. Did he truly mean to foster an alliance? The idea was almost laughable. Almost. Even Doren could not resist the devilish allure of the proposition. Fluid Imperial-Sith borders, an end to infighting, and, in time, perhaps even a combined expansionary taskforce. It sounded like a fiction. No, it was a fiction, a fanciful construction of a creature that looked totally unreal by normal standards. For a brief moment, Vassyl consider the possibility that the Sith had employed some dark magic to sway his mind. It was then that the Captain remembered the Ysalamiri tucked away in the large equipment packs of his bodyguards. There would be no potentiality for mental manipulation today. For now, words were the sole means of coercion.

Now slightly more at ease, Doren listened on, slowly digesting his counterpart's opening arguments. The promise of a prisoner exchange furthered the young Jaeman's interest. Indeed, Vassyl's stomach knotted as he considered the agonizing conditions the Imperial POW's might be suffering at that very moment. A military alliance was a steep order. However, there was surely some manner of compromise to be had here. "Your proposal is most intriguing, that much I cannot deny", Doren started in response, "And, while I cannot consent to a formal alliance at this time, I do not believe we have exhausted our options for cooperation". A pearl of sweat flopped off of Vassyl's brow and onto the durasteel table. The Captain needed to proceed cautiously, for the sake of the Sith's temper, and the sanctity of the Empire.

"At the very least, any servicemen you might return to our borders would do well to grab the Admiralty's attention", Doren continued, adding, "But if we're to achieve a true armistice, an honest pact of non-aggression, my government will require more than candied words and a handful of prisoners to be satisfied". Indeed, the Council of Moffs were practically hot to the touch when it came to previous Sith atrocities, in terms of both loss of life and property. Tapping an anxious finger on the arm of his seat, Doren leaned back and collected his thoughts for a time, and then announced, "All that said, it would be poor show of diplomacy to keep things one-sided for the time being. In the interim, I will work to ensure a temporary ceasefire on our end of things, so that we may keep this channel of discussion viable". Vassyl paused for a moment thereafter, and concluded, "If this is to move forward, we must find a work to foster trust between our two powers".

"So it shall be."

Blood wanted to curl his lip and reveal his true distaste for the situation, both him and Raven being cut from the revelations of the Force. He didn't necessarily need the Force to kill them, and he hadn't exactly been able to see if there was a difference in taste between politician and Apprentice. Was there such a thing? But there was quiet from his end until he decided to toss his final piece into the pot.

"There returns a deity you all remain callous against, waging war against my Faction for it. And coincidentally, we have considered this unification more than you might think," he admitted. "This alliance is not just for our futures, but for the salvation of the now. We want this alliance to assist in the takedown of Tormentous, himself."

Pulling himself back into his own chair, he thumped his spined tail against the steel floor, matching the tempo of Doren's own beat with a calmer sibling of noise. Gripping the arm rest with his left, the right hand was brought to be rested in his lap. The void shaded limb was more than enough of a contrast to the scarlet cloth that it stood out in it's vicious appearance, obsidian 4 inch claws gleaming dully against gold link trim.

"Tell your Leader, whoever it may be, that this alliance needs it's speed upped, lest you lose the oppertunity to take the Sith's thorn out of your side once, and for all."

The draconian waved his hand to Raven who began pressing buttons in contact with Valkyr, informing her to begin route back to their location. It would take some time, or none at all, depending on what the Sith Lord gathered from this meeting.

"I have offered you everything but the coordinants of where this battle will lay hosted. I have illustrated an impressive level of patience in this element, but in truth, I am quite the opposite. Do not make me wait, Arrow. You and your pack have a total of 3 days to discuss how we further from this day. Afterwards, things will revolt to their prior state, and all I have offered will be brought to ember and ash."

Doren's blood froze at the mention of Tormentous. Balling his hand into a gloved fist, the ice soon melted, and bubbled over into a restricted fury. Vassyl was but one of countless Imperials whose lives had been threatened by that menace. And, in the Captain's case, he'd had the misfortune of meeting with the scourge of the Reach on no less than five occasions. Yes, he was surely a menace without equal. If this winged dignitary was truly prepared to offer the Dark Lord up on a silver platter, it would assuredly provide the necessary political momentum to move forward with the Sith: in the near future, and beyond. Standing up, Doren smiled for the first time since his arrival, and eagerly answered back, "For now, I think you've offered us more than enough".

The Captain's eyes flitted about the room for moment, as if to locate something that was just out of sight. Then, in an instant, Vassyl grin widened, as he allowed himself a brief yet hardy laugh, "I suppose that old saying really does earn its keep: the enemy of my enemy is indeed my friend". There was no trace of doubt in Doren's voice. He meant what he said, or at least, he believed in what had been said, what he had been tasked to do. The Empire and the Sith were about to be under a new heading, a compromise that would spare countless lives at the cost of one. A single, irrefutable monster. "I will ensure that our military is prepared to do their part when the time is right. Once the preparations are complete, how should I contact you?".