Session export: Hugo-palooza: Hugo Big or Hugo Home (Welcome to CSP)

The thick clouds of the night sky rolled and drifted apart as the vibrations of the GAT-12 Skipray pierced through them. The mint-condition vessel circled and hovered near the landing pad, like a hawk stalking its prey. Inside the cockpit, a T3 Astromech droid grunted and fumbled with the console, as if wrestling with the ship itself. It turned to query a shadowed figure at the rear of the cockpit, who slowly stepped forward to the window, watching the ground rise to meet them.

“I’m still not sure about this, T3,” Qor murmured, running a hand slowly along the surface of his armor, his eyes gently closing. “I sense an overbearing wave of stress, a pessimistic aura… and immense power here.”

He exhaled deeply, gaze falling to the markings and insignias on his gauntlet and plating. “The last time I wore this, Darth Pravus was battling a superior force, the Emperor sent me to fight mythical beasts, and my—” the words caught in his throat, “—my apprentice moved on to greener pastures. Am I even ready to face this clan again?”

T3 rolled forward and nudged his thigh, projecting a flickering hologram in front of him. It showed a joyful memory: Qor laughing with Empress Eli, Xen'Mordin raising a drink with a hearty chuckle, and other clan members whose faces seemed to blur into nostalgia. The Quarren closed his eyes, then nodded with quiet resolve.

“You’re right, pal. I have to do this—if not for myself, then for them.” A faint smile crossed his leathery face, a warm amber flush rising beneath his skin.

The Skipray’s landing gear met the pad with a solid thud as hydraulics hissed to life and the doors began to open. Outside, a blend of chatter and pulsing trance music filled the air. The Battlelord stepped from the ship, his footfalls as silent as snowfall, and turned toward the guest entrance of the Monolith. Without hesitation, he joined the queue.

Qor approached the woman in question with caution, his gaze sweeping over her with practiced scrutiny. He noted the clean shave of her scalp, the way her athletic frame moved with controlled precision. A soldier’s discipline—perhaps more than that.

“Nothing better than a little black number to accentuate her form,” he mused, suppressing a smirk. But his amusement faded as his eyes flicked over her wrists—bare, unadorned. No insignia, no House rings. Odd for someone hosting a gathering of this magnitude.

“At least I know she is not carrying,” he whispered, though he suspected her deadliest weapons weren’t the kind that fit in a holster.

He extended his hand, and she responded in kind, her fingers brushing his palm—soft, perfectly manicured. Yet there was something unsettling in the way her grip lingered, as if she were measuring him. “Thank you for the invitation, Madam. I’m truly grateful to enjoy your services tonight.” His bow was short but firm, an act of deference, though he already suspected this was no ordinary social call.

As he followed the security procession into the complex, he stole another glance at her. Behind the polite mask, he could feel it—an absence, a hollowness, as though she were waiting for something. Or someone.

And in that moment, he realized he had just stepped into a game far older and more dangerous than he had anticipated.

The moment Qor stepped through the arched obsidian gates of Monolith, the air shifted — perfumed, heavy with incense and unspoken power. The highborn establishment sprawled before him like a temple to privilege. Smooth black stone walls shimmered faintly under low crimson lighting. The ceiling, impossibly high, was dotted with hovering crystal orbs that pulsed with soft, rhythmic light — synced to a music that wasn’t played, but rather felt.

Armored soldiers in polished durasteel stood like statues at every threshold and corridor. Their visors were featureless, reflective, emotionless. Silent reminders that even here — especially here — violence was just a word away.

To Qor’s left, a long banquet hall sprawled, flooded with laughter and the sound of clinking glasses. Nobles and dignitaries swirled their jeweled goblets, sipping wines from long-dead worlds, discussing empires as if they were board game pieces. Some wore masks, others flaunted their identities with pride, but all exuded the smug confidence of the untouchable. On raised platforms around the room, reconstructed droids — their bodies grafted with wires and polished chrome — moved with eerie grace, pouring drinks and offering hollow blessings of fealty through synthetic voices. Their eyes, once vibrant with green life, now glowed blue with programming. And in the center, under a chandelier of levitating crystal shards, alien slaves danced. Their forms twisted in unnatural ways, enhanced by drugs or conditioning, their eyes pleading even as their mouths cooed lullabies in strange tongues. Qor observed it all with a surgeon’s detachment. He wasn’t here to indulge.

He was here to gather names.

Monolith was a nest of power — a perfect web of loose lips and fragile egos. He sought a list of collaborators: those funding the Imperial experiments on the Outer Rim, those trafficking Force-sensitive children for “research,” those hiding behind etiquette while worlds burned.

To achieve this, Qor had options. He could drug the wine — harmlessly, of course — to dull the tongues of his targets and loosen their secrets. He could mingle as the enigmatic outsider, the alien curiosity nobles love to underestimate. Or, more dangerously, he could exploit the mind-linked droids, accessing their servers through a hidden node he planted earlier this cycle.

Whatever path he chose, Qor would remain smiling, his hands folded in front of his robe, his voice calm and precise. Let them underestimate the Quarren surgeon with the strange laugh and soft eyes. Let them whisper that he’s harmless.

Because they never see the scalpel until it cuts.

And tonight, he was here to dissect the powerful.

Reiden stepped out of the private speeder that had picked him up and taken him to the Monolith. The huge structure loomed before him. He was always impressed by its sheer size and what must have gone into its construction. He adjusted the collar of his uniform. Though it lacked any rank plaques or awards - a choice he made himself, not being one for such displays - those in the know understood its significance. He hated getting dressed up, far preferring the freedom of his current armor, old armor, or even more casual clothing. Unfortunately, this was neither the time nor place, at least as far as his mind was concerned. He would dress the part as needed to fit the event. He didn’t much care for big events either, but he chose to see this as another opportunity to get out and have some fun with his friends and allies. Of course, there would possibly be some other shoulder rubbing going on with various guests, but he generally tried to leave that to others better suited for it, or those that enjoyed such things.

He eyed the long line that had formed outside and quirked a brow, amused. He didn’t have time for that. Nor did he particularly care. Instead he simply ignored the people gathered and walked alongside it, stopping where it began. He was both surprised and not to see a familiar bald Zabrak woman handling things at the door. Of course she was here, keeping an eye on things.

“It’s good to see you again, Sparkle. I hope the guests treat you well and things go better than last time,” he said, giving her a warm smile. “If you need a hand with anything out here, just send a message. Enjoy the evening.”

He gave her a slight bow and stepped forward, heading inside.

Paperwork, did Korvyn ever hate paperwork. More requests for funds than he had available was normal but it had gotten worse with the new biomes for Ragnath. In ways he wished they had just let the place burn to the ground. It was becoming more trouble than it was worth.

He looked at the time and realized he was late for the welcoming party for the new leader coming to the clan. He didn’t know much about him but he had risen quickly through the ranks of the empire. Korvyn straightened out his uniform and attached his lightsabers to his belt. He knew there was little chance of a fight but the sight of them kept the dignitaries at bay. Hard to be offensive to a man who would remove your head before you blinked. Though Korvyn had better ways of making people disappear.

As he headed to the turbolift Race immediately fell in step. He was like the lightsabers more for show than function. An extremely capable stormtrooper that obeyed orders without hesitation. He was just another way to assert his dominance over the groups of nobles that once ruled over Seraph.

Vincent watched with a smirk as he walked two steps behind Jaz. The Mandalorian seemed especially tense, almost agitated, but not angry… this was something different, and the Sith had a pretty good idea of what it was. As the two made their way into the Monolith, Jaz stopped and took a look at himself in a large wall-mounted mirror. He straightened his cape and wiped a smudge from the shoulder plate of his beskar.

“Jaz… I get it, buddy… I really do… but you gotta calm down. You’re starting to give me the ick, and I’m not even the one you’re after…”

No response came from the Mandalorian. Instead he raised his arm to his helmet. After pressing a few buttons on his armor, a voice rang out in his helmet.

“Fuel systems are full.”

A relieved sigh escaped the beskar helmet. Finally turning to pay attention to his friend, the Sith, Jaz spoke.

“You think she’ll be here, right? I mean, she has to be! Who else could have set things up this… perfectly…”

The Mandalorian sighed dreamily. If this were one of the hologames that he played on the frequent, he might have actual hearts floating over his head. Rolling his eyes, Vincent responded.

“Yes, yes… I’m sure Sparkle is here, Jaz, but do try to remember… this night is for Hugo… not for you.”

As if the very mention of her name had summoned her, Sparkle turned from a crowd and noticed Vincent and Jaz. Walking away from the standard Caperion system nobodies, she looked to approach the two entering Palatinae members. Vincent nudged Jaz on the arm with an elbow.

“Go get her, champ!” he said, holding back his laughter.

For a moment, Jaz could have been a Sith… in fact, Vincent thought he might have seen red dots glowing under his visor.

<@679032520699805708>

Jaz fidgeted with his fingers like a child that didn’t know what to do with their hands. He searched his brains for the right words to say, but they never came, so instead, he watched closely as Sparkle walked away.

Vincent’s eyes were wide with attention, the smirk ever growing on his face as he watched Jaz stumble in his attempts at socialization.

“Well, it looks like I won’t have to worry about replacing Jaz on account of him running off with the Zabrak any time soon.” the Sith thought to himself.

Patting his friend on the shoulder, Vincent spoke only one word, in an exageratedly stretched out form.

“Smmmooooooooootttthhh…”

Elaine arrived a bit later than a few others with a familiar feline accompanying her. She took a moment to admire the architecture that stood before her, the mere height of it never ceasing to astonishing her.

She walked gracefully up the front steps of the Monolith, paying no attention to the line as she and Callé made their way past the other guests.

“A pleasure as always, Sparkle. Please, lead the way” Elaine responded winsomely as she followed suit of Sparkle’s path. Callé followed loosely behind his master, taking leisure in his inquiries.

Empress Rayne Palpatine was the epitome of elegance as she made her way to the event. She was flanked by various security forces and aids at her disposal. The Empress had become more comfortable rarely being alone and constantly in the spotlight. She was a master of the shadows; on her own, gathering intel and staying unseen for the most part. Now she was the leader of Scholae Palatinae which means being seen and heard and making a statement for the betterment of the clan. The crown she took up for the role seemed heavy at times but she would use that weight to propel the clan forwards.

The Empress had just finished a successful mission of diplomacy for the Caperion system. She could read people like a book and she knew who to smile at and who to smack down when it was necessary. She also knew peace was a fallacy and would eventually crumble.

That was for another night to worry over. Tonight, Rayne needed to be here. The Firrerreo and her entourage continued to the door of the gala. A flurry of excitement at her approach and they proceeded in.

Finally, her group thinned out. Her security forces placed themselves in strategic locations to be always vigilant of the Empress. Not that she needed bodyguards, she was Sith after all. Still, their presence was necessary for events like this.

Elaine sighed in annoyance of the idiocy portrayed by the politician for now she had to clean up his mess.

She gestured to a couple of attendants to clean the blood spillage on the ground. The attendants nervously made their way to the scene and cautiously cleaned it up, making sure not to get too close to the Nexu.

Elaine withdrew a spotless, white linen from one of her pockets, knelt down, and wiped the blood from Callé’s fur.

After she finished, she wrapped the linen around itself and put it back into her pocket.

“So… What’s that you mentioned about a drink?” She remarked to Sparkle.

The Equite smiled softly and gently took hold of the glass. She lifted it to her mouth and tasted the beverage.

“The taste is intriguingly exquisite,” Elaine commented.

“I can’t say I’ve ever had the privilege of tasting a wine quite like this.” She took another drink.

Qor moved quietly through the heart of the Monolith, a glass of something expensive in one hand and a half-smile painted across his face like an accessory. The air was thick with cologne, ambition, and the constant hum of laughter that said nothing and meant even less. He blended easily with the nobility—wearing tailored restraint and a surgeon’s precision.

Reiden’s arrival had been expected. Always the first to offer thanks, always the first to enter a room on his own terms. Qor noted the exchange with Sparkles—respectful, practiced. Polite power play. He slipped inside like he belonged. He usually did. Vincent arrived soon after, with the Mandalorian—Jaz—striding at his side. Qor watched their entrance from a small circle of off-world senators too tipsy to notice the shift in the air. Jaz made a move toward Sparkles. It was bold… until it wasn’t. The hesitation revealed everything. Mandalorians weren’t supposed to stutter. Qor sipped his drink and turned back to the conversation at hand, now more interested in how that crack might widen under pressure.

Elaine was elegance incarnate. Her approach quieted several conversations nearby, though no one admitted why. Callé, the Nexu, stalked at her side—silent, sleek, and carrying the kind of presence that made the room’s more decorative pets shrink behind their owners. Sparkles, in a moment of performative generosity, handed Elaine a glass of her own wine. Qor caught the glint of the bottle’s seal—newly pressed, freshly labeled. Meant to impress. Meant to distract.

He’d already heard the whispers. A politician—unnamed, unimportant—had reached too far toward Elaine or her beast. The blood was gone. The memory lingered.

Then came Rayne.

She didn’t part the crowd. She redirected it. Qor felt the shift before he saw her—the subtle tightening of posture in nearby guests, the way guards already repositioned themselves, even without being told. Her arrival was not an event—it was a consequence.

The Empress entered surrounded not by presence, but inevitability.

Qor shifted through the bodies with care, pausing here and there to exchange brief greetings, soft compliments, and questions that sounded innocent but never were. Information flowed freely in gatherings like these—hidden behind jokes, spilled into wine, tucked between dance steps and sudden laughter. He didn’t need to be unseen here. He simply needed to be underestimated. The room was loud, but not chaotic. Not yet.

Soon, someone would relax. Say too much. Trust too far. And when they did, Qor would be listening—not from above, but from right beside them.

Elaine gave the female Zabrak a nod as she took her leave. After Sparkle had departed from her company, Elaine’s gazed shifted to the all too familiar Justicar.

Great, of course he would be here…

Elaine thought in disgruntled manner, her brows slightly furrowing.

Elaine felt like nothing more than a mere child playing dress-up next to all of her superiors… perhaps that’s why she preferred being secluded when given the choice. Then again, her appearance tonight was by her own volition.

Perhaps tonight will be as eventful as the last gala.

She sighed.

I mean, Duk had to have learned it from somewhere, right?

She let out a quiet snicker to herself at the thought of Kamjin doing something so imprudent as his student.

The Monolith thrummed like a pulse beneath polished boots and hushed intentions. Qor sat alone in the curve of a booth, half-shrouded in shadow, watching reflections ripple across the black glass of his drink. The kind of place where secrets were currency and image was armor.

He didn’t see Kamjin enter—he felt it.

The shift in the air. The subtle ripple in conversation. That edge of tension that settled over the room like dust on fine silk. And then he saw him. Red and gold, imperial precision wrapped around violence, stepping into the Monolith like memory given form.

The old blaster mark still marred the center of his chestplate. Blackened and deep. Familiar.

Qor’s gaze followed the way it anchored attention—how that one blemish, that unpatched scar, commanded more reverence than polished rank ever could. Some wore titles. Kamjin wore warnings.

He caught movement near the bar. Elaine.

Not stiff, not fidgeting—just still. The kind of stillness that meant her thoughts had sharpened. She held a glass of that new Sparkles vintage—the one everyone was trying to get a taste of before it vanished behind some noble’s cellar vault. Expensive. Intentional.

Qor watched her for a long moment.

The way she tracked Kamjin’s presence with cool, detached interest. Not fear. Not awe. Curiosity. Something close to calculation.

He stood, leaving the comfort of shadow behind. No rush. No need.

The bar was crowded, but Qor moved through it like smoke between cracks—unnoticed until he chose otherwise. He stepped beside her. Didn’t speak at first. Just looked at the same scar she did.

That mark. That story. He’d heard it told too many ways to trust any of them—and all of them ended badly for someone else.

He finally spoke, quiet and dry. Not to disrupt, just to join.

“Don’t stare too long. That kind of attention gets noticed around here.”

Though she felt Qor’s presence as he approached, she didn’t feel the need to acknowledge it unless presented with a reason. After all, she had her own special kind of security beside her.

Callé voiced a low rumble as he watch the unknown Quarren ever so cautiously, waiting for a reason to lunge. His tail flicked back and forth, occasionally wrapping around one of Elaine’s legs as he took small, impatient steps.

“It seems it takes very little to get noticed. Regardless of how much attention one gives or gains,” she spoke soft, yet firmly.

“I’ve never seen you around The Monolith before. What is you name?”

She looked at him. Her particolored eyes filled with a curiosity and yet a caution.

Hugo’s yellow beady eyes surveyed the howling Trandoshan. In truth, he cared little about what had transpired. The true catastrophe was the spilled Gooba Juice..

He solemnly bowed his head and ironically plunged his burning simmer-leaf cigar into a nearby ensign’s glass; a nauseating blend of Hutt slime and stale tobacco. The slime made it bubble with a grotesque sizzle with each inhale but it made the cigars burn slower.

He stepped forward and obnoxiously cleared his bulbous wattle.

“Friends!” Hugo bellowed, flailing one of his meaty arms, causing Kamjin to quickly duck before restoring his dignity. “Esteemed guests!” he continued swatting again, this time nearly catching the Imperator Quondam in the back of his neatly styled head-mane.

“I am honored-” He paused with a rather large smirk, “ to be standing before you as your newest Governor and the head of Acclivis Draco.” He stood tall and folded his arms over his jiggly belly, tightly held back by a pristine white Imperial uniform. “Empress Rayne has given her blessing for my team of researchers to make a more. Permanent dwelling in the heart of the Mortis meteor impact.” He began to trail. “The crystals there are astonishing, truly astonishing.” Kamjin nudged him. He cleared his throat once more.

“I truly hope that you enjoy the festivities while you can. For tomorrow, expansion and discovery will be the immediate goal of your honorable house Draco.” He flourished his white cloak as he stepped back to Kamjin who was at this point flicking Hugo’s cloak off of his shoulder.

Reiden had stayed around the fringes after he made his way inside. He had grabbed a champagne flute as he passed by a server and took a sip. From the nose and the taste, he could tell it was quality. Of course it was, given the function. He’d need to try more later, maybe try to source a bottle, maybe a few. It wasn’t his usual choice of drink, but it was nice to change things up a little, especially for special occasions.

As he enjoyed the champagne, he watched people, eyes scanning the room with practice, taking in the details. A commotion drew his attention and he saw Elaine standing with Sparkle, then her nexus lunging at some politician he couldn’t recall the name of - not that the name mattered too much to him. The poor frakker was down a hand now. Which made sense. You don’t just reach for a nexus, especially when it didn’t know you.

In short order, he saw Rayne’s arrival. She was always one to make an entrance, and this was no exception, though it never felt too overstated. He appreciated that about her. The more quiet power.

Before long Kamjin had arrived with the guest of honor - one Hugo Siphaar, he had been told. Unsurprisingly, this was a bit more lively of an entrance. Kamjin was, of course, making a splash. Reiden noted that he was wearing his old armor. He had opted to not repair it after the attempt on his life, the damage from the blaster on full display. Ever the showman, even when the spotlight should be elsewhere. Then again, at least he was consistent.

His eyes settled on the new governor, who was also his new Quaestor. He wasn’t sure what to make of the Besalisk, but he was sure he would find out in time. For now, it was time for the social niceties, even if he’d rather be elsewhere, doing something that was, at least in his mind, more important. But such was his role here. Show up, smile, show appreciation, maybe some small talk if he had to.

Reiden couldn’t help but roll his eyes as Kamjin began talking, beginning what he could only guess was some grand speech he had in mind. He finished his glass of champagne and set it down on a passing server’s tray. He rolled his shoulders a little, bending his knees ever so slightly. If he was going to be here a while, he may as well be comfortable.

His attention, however, was diverted when his ears picked up other voices. Only his eyes moved as he looked around and spotted Sparkle with a Trandoshan. Having seen her records, he knew she’d likely be a good ally to have, whether in the battlefield or serving other interests at home. The Trandoshan had said something he shouldn’t have, and it seemed like she had taken action. He respected that.

Hugo’s speech was short and to the point. That already earned him points in Reiden’s book. Time would tell how things would unfold, but the start seemed like it could be promising.

Watching the proceedings from the back of the room Korvyn was both amused and annoyed. The Empire had brought in an influx of credits and a much more peaceful system. The major governments that had spent decades fighting for scraps of land had given way to a unified government. Still there were ungrateful people and politicians.

Sure a few eggs had been cracked in the process. That was what peace costs. Those who are not capable of violence are not peaceful. They are harmless and get ran over. He was sure the camera’s were already running facial recognition on the the dissenters. They would be taken care of, peacefully if possible.

The Justicar would use any chance he could to grandstand. It made him useful in many ways. The speech helped identify the malcontents in the crowd. More importantly it gave way to Hugo being able to give a simple but effective speech on how the Empire would further help the citizens of Seraph. Construction projects brought about jobs, research created opportunities. All things Rayne could point to in keeping the politicians in line and quell any resistance.

The setting Seraph sun gleamed off the white hull of the Lambda shuttle as it set down on the pad beneath it with a hydraulic hiss, tugging Ellac from his shallow meditations.

“Master,” a metallic yet whimsically perky voice called from beside him.” We have arrived.”

“Yeah, HK… I noticed.” Pushing himself from the wall he had propped himself against, Ellac pulled at the edge of his cloak so that it draped over his shoulders, concealing the mangled cacophony of burned flesh and gruesomely grafted cybernetics that had become his body.

“Query: Will you be needing your helmet for tonight’s festivities, master?”

“No,” Ellac said, wasting no time to disembark from the shuttle, passing between twin pillars of steam that sputtered down from either side of the boarding ramp.

“As you wish, master, but may I remind you that some may not find your grueling appearance as pleasing to the receptors as I do,” HK said indifferently, following after the young Sith up the path to the Monolith doors.

Qor approached slowly, each step measured, the folds of his long coat brushing the polished stone with a whisper. The air near The Monolith felt heavier somehow—charged not with power, but with expectation. The kind of place that watched back. His gaze lifted briefly to the architecture, then settled on the woman ahead.

She hadn’t acknowledged him, not properly. Not yet. But the beast at her side had—Callé’s low rumble curled through the space like a warning, primal and clear. Qor paused, not out of fear, but curiosity. The tail that coiled possessively around her leg didn’t go unnoticed, nor did the tension in the creature’s limbs.

A bond forged in blood or time, he thought. Useful. Dangerous.

He folded his hands behind his back, claws glinting beneath his sleeves, and studied her in silence before speaking.

“I rarely linger in places built to be seen,” he said at last, voice low and smooth, threaded with the echo of deeper waters. “The Monolith is loud with ambition. I prefer silence, but… even the quiet has its gravity.”

His gaze met hers then—those unusual eyes of hers holding both question and defense. He didn’t flinch.

“My name is Qor. Surgeon by trade. Battlelord by title. Neither mean much out here.”

He nodded once, respectful but unreadable. “But you… you wear this place as though it were stitched into your skin. What are you guarding, I wonder?”

Her body visibly stiffened. Something he said had struck her to her core.

What business did Qor have to question her so? Was he right? Has she become too enveloped in this place? If she had, was it that obvious? Was she that easy to read despite how she thought others perceived her? These were the questions running through Elaine’s head.

Her gaze shifted away from her company, reverting to the red and gold armor worn by her former Emperor. Though she could see, she was not presently aware of what she was looking at, her eyes unable to remain locked on a central point of the armor as her thoughts ran rampant.

Was she truly just a child amidst them all? What was her purpose here?

Her gaze shifted back to the Quarren, still unable to fully concentrate.

Just as she was about to utter a response, she felt the very presence that embedded her confusion… her brother.

His presence inflicted a convoluted mixture of feelings. Fear. Confusion. Sentiment. Indifference. Hate.

Callé could sense the ambivalence within her. Unsure as to the source of the tension, he bared his fangs at the Quarren beside them while voicing a clamorous cry as a warning.

Charging on through a mixture of headstrong indignation and a reliance on his connection to the Force, Ellac took each stride with as much pride as he could summon. Brushing past the ever-growing queue of the political menagerie, the young Equite reached out through the blackness, letting his senses guide him where his sight no longer could. And that was when he heard them: The whispers.

He had expected that his appearance here would mean becoming the common subject of the evening gossip, but as his ears caught the not-so-hushed murmurs of nearby onlookers, the growing weight of doubt and shame within him only confirmed what he had been denying through his numerous encounters with the now reigning Justicar, and why Ellac had been allowed to live each time he had failed to kill him.

Here, at the heart of Imperial rule, was a place of secrets and shadows, and where information was more potent a weapon than a lightsaber in the right hands. It was a game that Ellac was familiar with, but was becoming painfully aware he had lacked the skill to play. Here was an arena where all the strength in the galaxy could not save him, and he had just waltzed right into it.

Despite the scarring, Ellac could feel his face grow hot as his chest tightened and his mind raced with thoughts of what, or rather who, awaited him inside. Anger and rage began to boil in his stomach, but there was also something new that clung tightly to his bones… A feeling he had not felt this intensely since that day on Raxus when he had first tasted of the Dark Side of the Force: Dread.

All of the sudden, he was but a boy again. Ellac subconsciously pulled at his cloak again, pleading for its protection from the monsters that lay in wait from him…

“My Lord?”

“What?” Ellac’s brow furrowed as he fought to peel himself from his thoughts.

“I, uh…” The guard at the door cleared his throat. “Lord Conrat?”

“Yes,” Ellac said, realizing his metal fingers were still fidgeting with the hem of his cloak. “Is there a problem?”

The guard peered down at his data pad, studying the photo ID attached to the invitation before looking back up at Ellac in combined horror and intrigue as his eyes tried to reconcile with the mangled man before him.

“Is. there. a problem?” The Sith repeated.

Clearing his throat again, the guard straightened his posture. “No sir. Enjoy your evening.”

With the entrances and speeches hopefully out of the way, and his champagne now gone, Reiden felt the sudden need to get a new drink. He turned and made his way over to the bar.

As luck would have it, the bartender was busy helping someone else, which gave him time to check out the bottles on display. He spotted familiar brands among the various spirits. One bottle was even from a distillery he was growing increasingly familiar with and fond of. He flagged down the bartender as soon as he was free.

“I’ll take a glass of Dark Elixir, please.”

He smiled as the bartender slid the glass over to him. He lifted it to the man in thanks before taking a sip. The familiar warmth of the whiskey greeted him. Subtle flavor notes, smooth finish. He was glad he was able to arrange a deal with the Emissary to get some shipments of her product delivered every now and then. And he had even heard that she was set to release a rum in the future, which gave him another drink to check out at some point down the line.

Then he noticed it. A familiar presence, one he hadn’t felt in some time and that had gone unnoticed while he was busy watching those in attendance, wondering what people were thinking and what might transpire on this evening. It joined another familiar presence nearby and he turned to see Elaine with the Quarren. An interesting pairing. He couldn’t help but wonder what might come of their interaction. Farther beyond that, however, was yet another that was familiar to him. This one a recent arrival to the event.

So, Ellac made it after all. Will he and his sister confront one another again? Is he after Kamjin? Or maybe just joining the festivities? His mind swirled with possibilities.

From the moment he stepped foot into the gala, Ellac’s mind began to scream as the tempest of emotions within him began to swell into a complete overload of his senses: Voices clamored against the backdrop of live music that echoed off the Monolith’s towering walls, sinister shiftings of the Force chilled him to the core like a frozen wind, and the gaze of a thousand eyes that stared at him but he couldn’t stare back.

Digging a clawed hand into his thigh, Ellac gasped as the pain pried him free from his own mind. And that’s when he felt it: Somewhere, hidden among the sea of people, he was there… Watching. Waiting. And he wasn’t the only one…

Qor waited.

<@971875986654257162> had gone quiet. Not the kind of quiet that meant she was thinking—he knew that silence. This one was different. It lingered too long. Clung to the air like smoke after fire. Her mouth was slightly parted, like she meant to speak and forgot how.

He said nothing. Just watched.

It was subtle, but his eyes caught the signs. She wasn’t still—she was rigid. Her shoulders, normally relaxed and measured, were locked in place. Her pupils had narrowed. The fingers at her side trembled once before curling into a fist. She wasn’t meditating. She wasn’t lost in thought.

She was afraid.

Not just afraid—confused. Hurt. And something darker, flaring for a heartbeat before being shoved down. Hate?

Qor didn’t blink. The moment tasted wrong.

Then came the cry.

A shriek tore through the stillness, sharp and sudden—Callè’s voice. The beast lunged forward, bristling, tail arched like a blade drawn halfway from its sheath. All four eyes locked on him, and the fangs bared weren’t for show. This wasn’t posturing. This wasn’t a territorial snarl. This was a warning.

Qor didn’t flinch.

He adjusted his footing by a hair, arms still folded, but weight now on the balls of his feet. He didn’t reach for a blade, didn’t drop into a stance. Callè was smart. The creature would know the difference. That shriek hadn’t been born of rage. It was born of alarm. Of protection.

But protection from what?

Qor’s gaze shifted from Callè back to Elaine. She hadn’t moved. Still frozen. Still silent. Her expression had twisted, but not in fear of him. Not quite. Her eyes weren’t focused on him—they were looking past him. Through him. Like something she’d buried was clawing its way back up.

Qor didn’t trust easily. But he trusted patterns. And this wasn’t the pattern of a person choosing their next words. This was someone unraveling.

“You’re somewhere else, Elaine,” he said, voice low, calm.

No answer.

He didn’t push forward. Didn’t advance. Every instinct told him not to. Not out of fear for himself—but out of respect for whatever war she was fighting inside her head. Pushing now would make him an enemy. He wasn’t convinced he was yet.

Callè’s growl deepened, becoming a low, vibrating hum that settled into Qor’s bones. If he moved too quickly, the beast would strike. And he wasn’t interested in killing something that loyal.

He slowly crouched—his movements fluid, deliberate, non-threatening—and angled his body sideways. Less like a warrior, more like a listener.

“You’ve gone pale,” he murmured. “And I know you well enough to say that isn’t the weather’s fault.”

Her lips moved—just barely. But no words came.

He could’ve interrogated her. Could’ve peeled away the silence with cold precision, prodding until she broke. But something felt off. Something in the air between them wasn’t right. Not a trap. Not a lie. But a crack. And he knew better than to stick his hand into a broken thing without understanding how it shattered.

“I’m not your enemy, Elaine,” he said. “And I’m not Callè’s either.”

He kept his gaze steady on hers.

“But if you’re protecting yourself from something, I need to know what it is. Or who.”

Still nothing.

He let the silence return. Let it stretch. A moment to breathe, to think.

Then softly: “You don’t have to speak. But blink if I need to draw steel.”

A pause.

No blink.

Qor exhaled slowly. Not relief—just patience.

“I’ll stay right here,” he added, almost like a whisper. “I won’t move until you tell me to. But if whatever’s inside you makes a move, I’ll be ready.”

Callè didn’t growl again. But it didn’t relax either.

And Qor waited—not as a predator, not even as a friend, but as the only one in the room with their eyes open.

Why is he still here? What’s making him stay?

Elaine questioned within herself.

Her mind still restless, Elaine looked through the crowd in search of her brother. She glazed over the room for a few moments, unable to find whom she was searching for.

Elaine closed her eyes, her fists already formed tightly. Her knuckles white from the strain. She abruptly threw herself into meditation, the hatred and fear within her flowing through every vein in her body.

She felt the presence of the individuals within the room. They overwhelmed her. Every voice echoed against the walls and rang in her ears as if a thousands thoughts were trying to claim her attention all at once.

She stumbled backwards, her brows furrowing as she placed her hand on the side of her head.

She could feel her heartbeat moving throughout her body as it palpitated, making its way up her spine and into her head.

The weight of it all collapsed her down on one of her knees as her breath became noticeably weaker and irregular. The sweat glistening off her forehead as a liquid bead rolled down the side of her face.

At last. She found him.

She broke what little concentration she had, a sharp inhale sounding from the young Sith.

She took a deep breath in hopes it would regulate her body. Her breathing was still a bit irregular and her heartbeat continued to race.

Get it together, Elaine, She told herself, yet, didn’t utter a word.

She took a moment as she remained knelt down.

Out of the corner of her eye, she looked over to the Quarren who was now just as low in stance as she was.

Callé circled around his master.

“What…” she uttered quietly, her soft spoken voice gently reverberating against the floor. “What do you care what h-happens to me?” She queried.

“Why— Why not take advantage of my weakness like all the rest?”

Elaine remained kneeling, her breath still uneven, the weight of her emotions pressing heavily upon her. Qor stood before her, his gaze unwavering.

“You think I haven’t?” he said, his voice low, almost a whisper. “You think I didn’t consider using your pain, your fear, twisting it into something useful—for me? I was taught to. We both were.” He paused, his eyes searching hers.

“But then I saw you drop to your knees. Not broken. Not begging. Fighting. Not for power. Not for control. Just… to stay together. To not be swallowed.”

His tendrils shifted subtly, betraying a flicker of emotion.

“I didn’t stay because you were weak, Elaine.”

He leaned closer, his voice softening.

“I stayed because you reminded me what it looks like to survive.” Straightening, his tone grew colder.

“If I wanted to hurt you, you’d already be bleeding.”

With that, he turned away, leaving Elaine to process his words. Navigating through the crowd, Qor’s presence commanded attention. The murmurs of the attendees hushed as he approached Sparkles, the event hostess. The bald, tan-brown Zabrak stood poised, her eyes meeting his with a measured gaze. “Sparkles,” Qor began, inclining his head slightly. “Your hospitality is noted and appreciated.”

She offered a nod, her expression unreadable. “We aim to please.” Qor’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Indeed. Though I wonder, is pleasure the only aim tonight?”

Sparkles tilted her head, a faint smile playing on her lips. “In our line of work, pleasure often intertwines with purpose.”

He studied her for a moment before speaking. “Be wary. The currents beneath the surface are shifting. Not all who smile are allies.”

Her smile faded, replaced by a more serious demeanor. “Noted.” Without another word, Qor turned and made his way toward the exit, the crowd parting before him.

Outside, the cool night air greeted him.

The city’s lights shimmered, casting reflections on the wet pavement. As he walked, Qor’s mind raced, piecing together the fragments of information he had gathered.

The event had been more than a mere social gathering. Beneath the veneer of opulence and revelry, alliances were being forged, secrets exchanged, and power brokered. The presence of certain individuals, the subtle glances, the whispered conversations—all pointed to a larger game at play.

Qor’s communicator buzzed softly. He retrieved it, noting the encrypted message:

“The council moves. Shadows align. Be vigilant.”

He sighed, pocketing the device. The path ahead was fraught with uncertainty, but one thing was clear: the balance of power was shifting, and he would need to navigate the treacherous waters with care.

Drawing a controlled breath, Ellac commanded his mind to focus; Not a centering of patience and serenity like the Jedi, but a forceful subjugation of his will over it. Ellac had slayed monsters, faced nightmares, and never had he cowered. Tonight would be no different.

“HK.” The young Sith beckoned his droid as he reached out with his senses, allowing the flood of fear and hatred to pour over him again, this time welcoming it like the warmth of a fire in the cold of the night.

Metal footfalls stepping to his side answered his call. “Master?”

Ellac’s hands began to tremor as he drank in the emotion, not in fear, but exhilaration. Something within him was changing… Growing. He could sense the entire room with a brand new clarity than ever before; There was Rayne, roaming like a wolf among simpering sheep. Hugo, whom he had yet to officially meet, and beside him, Kamjin, who continued to preen about as if the throne still belonged to him. Reiden and Vincent mingled about in their usual fashion, and his sister had made an appearance too.

His sister…

“Master?” HK-89 repeated.

“Take me to Elaine,” Ellac said, his attentions locked upon his young sister’s presence. “We have business to attend to.”

Following after the droid, Ellac thought back to the last time he and Elaine had even spoken to each other, back before he left their home on Raxus as children. Of course, he had seen her in passing throughout her tenure as Sykes’ replacement apprentice, but whether for shame or the lack of fonder memories with her, Ellac had made a point to ignore her up till now.

As the pair drew closer to the bar where she sat, Ellac began to notice that she was not quite “sitting” at the bar, so much as “kneeling” beside it. Odder still was the growling carpet beside her that, from the sound of it, seemed no more interested in Ellac moving any closer to it’s owner than he was to share the same air as the beast.

“Caution: Careful, Master. The Nexu seems to have become feral. Shall I terminate this unsightly creature for you?” HK mused, almost more to himself than to Ellac.

Ignoring both the droid and the snarling beast, Ellac focused his senses on the woman before him. “It’s been a long time, Elaine.”

<@971875986654257162>

She had been carefully contemplating what Qor had said to her as Ellac approached. The sound of metal reverberated across the floor like a hammer striking a bell. Elaine assumed the sound was solely produced by the droid accompanying him, unaware of what had become of her brother in the recents years.

Suddenly everything else in the room faded away as if to Elaine, it was just the two of them and their companions in the room.

Elaine scoffed at the audacity he had to mention the amount of time that had passed. Her expression hardened. Brows furrowed.

“Yeah, no thanks to you.”

She ran her hand through the fur of her beast. Callé, still unenthused, took a seat at his master’s side while keeping a watchful eye, or four, on his prey.

“I was only eight years old… or have you forgotten, brother?” She spoke plainly, her voice cold and shaken. Her gazed remained on the floor.

Warning beacons rang out in Vincent’s mind as the Conrat siblings approached each other on the other side of the room. Vincent hadn’t seen Ellac in some time, not since…

“Well, Jaz, as much as I hate these social outings, there is one thing you can always count on…” Vincent said.

Still frustrated with his lack of interaction earlier with Sparkle, Jaz seemed less than interested in Vincent’s thoughts and feelings. Regardless, he replied.

“Oh, and what’s that?”

“Dinner and and show!”

A smirk formed on the Sith’s face as he took a big swig from a mug of ale.

“Keep your eyes open. I doubt things come to blows here, but… you never know. If we need to make a quick escape or intervene, be ready.” the Sith ordered.

“Yeah, yeah…” Jaz said, waving a hand in the air nonchalantly.

Reiden had tensed slightly when Ellac started to make his way over. He had heard of the animosity between the two, even seen some of it when the three of them had been part of the team that went to Venenum to check on the training facility there when contact was lost. But he never knew what caused it, not that it was any of his business anyway.

The tension hung thick in the air. He could feel it, even without the aid of the Force. He remained on alert. Whether it was the nexu and the droid or the siblings, he would be ready to intervene if he had to. There was a time and a place to settle things, and if that was their choice, he’d let them have at it. But tonight was neither.

He sipped his drink slowly, eyes over the rim, watching them carefully.

[Meanwhile..]

Somewhere in a dark confined space, a Kushiban opens her eyes. “uugghh” She groans as she tries to stretch her tiny furry body, but instantly regrets it as she hits her head. “Kriff!” she rubs her head and feels around in the dark, the sound rattling sound of glass makes her remember she’s inside a crate filled with bottles of fancy wine.

[two days ago] Wenet was at a remote smugglers hub somewhere at the edge of the Unknown Regions. She wasn’t there on behalf of the Jedi Order, in fact she hadn’t been to the Temple for a long time.

The war on Quermia had changed her and everyone who had a set of eyes could see that as her mood fur hadn’t been white for a while now. And yet, no one at the Temple gave the Kushiban the council she needed. Slowly she just drifted away from the order.

So there she was, at the edge of the Unknown Regions, resupplying the Dead Parrot, ready to take on any jobs to keep herself busy. But the curious little rabbit got herself into some trouble. Nosing around where she shouldn’t have. When they caught her snooping around she tried being smart and hid inside a crate until the coast was clear. But the damn thing locked from the outside, she was trapped. .

[Present day]

Wenet presses her ear against the wall of the crate, she can hear movement. Footsteps approaching and the muffled sound of a voice. ”Finally” She thinks to herself and prepares herself for a quick exit. The footsteps get closer and she can hear them move around the crate. ”where is it… “ the voice outside says. ”Come on.. Just open the damn thing” Wenet whispers impatiently.

She had been stuck for two days, most of which she had spent meditating. But eventually Wenet got thirsty and the only thing available was wine. Naturally, after some time she had to use the bathroom and the only thing available then was an empty bottle.

”It’s that one.. Bring four bottles” another voice outside said and then she heard the footsteps stop at the crate she was in. ”yeah yeah..” the voice muttered and unlocked the lid.

The moment the lid was lifted, Wenet jumped out. ”Aaaah!” The voice, wich belonged to a waiter, screamed as they fell backwards onto the floor. Wenet landed on top of their chest, but immediately jumped away, out of sight as the other voice came running. ”Did you drop it?!” They yelled, being more concerned about the expensive wine than the waiter. ”No.. No… There was some kind of rodent inside the crate” ”Rodent? ” Wenet whispered, obviously offended but remained hidden.

[Two days ago]

After a couple hours being trapped, Wenet felt that the crate was being moved. She called for help but they didn’t hear her. As a last resort she send a distress call to Waza Sunrider.

[Present day] Finally, after a couple of minutes the waiters left, taking four bottles from the crate. ”I hope they didn’t take my bottle” she chuckled and snuck out of storage room. ”Where the Kriff am I?” she asks herself as she can hear the sound of music and laughter nearby.

The low thrum of energy from the Monolith’s power core reverberated faintly through its smooth obsidian walls. Qor stepped back into the grand hall with a subtle swish of his robes, the cool, sea-salted air still lingering faintly on his skin. Outside, the tranquil sounds of waves brushing against the shoreline had been replaced by the hush of conversation and the distant clink of glassware. Inside, the Monolith pulsed with power and opulence.

His amber eyes scanned the room, immediately drawn to the far corner near the stairwell. Elaine and Ellac stood there, faces close, locked in a quiet but visibly intense exchange. Their body language spoke volumes—arms folded, shoulders squared, like mirrored statues with centuries of unspoken blame between them.

At Elaine’s side, the Nexu sat alert, its black eyes unblinking, watching Ellac with predatory stillness. Every so often, its twin tails flicked like reeds in the wind, betraying its restlessness. Just behind, an HK-series droid stood as still as a sculpture, one blaster arm subtly aimed—not at either sibling, but at the Nexu itself. Insurance, perhaps. A deterrent.

Qor gave them a passing glance, just long enough to clock the mood.

“Still dancing around each other,” he muttered. “If only they knew the steps.”

He didn’t linger. Family tension had a smell, and it wasn’t as appetizing as what awaited him near the catering tables.

The spread stretched elegantly along the polished wall, with crystal decanters and silver platters gleaming under soft lighting. Among the delicacies—exotic fruits, flame-roasted skewers, and offworld pastries—one offering stood apart.

Whaladon.

It lay coiled in artistic spirals, pale and shimmering beneath a thin glaze, resting atop a circular tray that radiated cold through its base. The scent carried on a subtle current—smoky, briny, and faintly sweet, like high tide after a storm.

A placard nearby, etched in fine script, read:

Whaladon – Delicacy of Dac. Sustainably sourced from Imperial sanctuaries.

Qor’s mouth curved into something between a smirk and a grimace. “Sanctuaries. Of course.”

He selected a piece with the provided tongs, settling it onto a small plate before lifting it with careful fingers. The first bite was immediate nostalgia—a wave of memory crashing down over the decades: the taste of home, of ancient feasts beneath the coral towers, of ceremonies where the elders still blessed the sea.

It melted on his tongue, savory and tender, each note unfolding like a half-remembered dream. He exhaled slowly.

“That,” he said aloud, “is genuine.”

“I told you it would be,” came a confident voice behind him, smooth as sun-warmed stone and bright with satisfaction.

Sparkles, radiant in a sleek outfit trimmed in white-gold fabric and lined with stylized sigils that hinted at both fashion and wealth, approached with that signature glide to her walk. Her skin was a deep, warm brown, kissed by the island sun, and her bald head gleamed slightly in the light, the small ridges of her Zabrak heritage prominent and proud. Gold studs glinted along the sides of her scalp, arranged with both symmetry and flair.

“You didn’t undersell it,” Qor admitted, still chewing. “The chef must know Dac tradition. This isn’t just food. This is… remembrance.”

Sparkles gave a mock bow, one hand sweeping theatrically to the side. “I called in three favors, risked one trade ban, and had to talk a noble into parting with their personal stash just to make it happen. You’re welcome.”

He raised his head, swallowing the last of the morsel. “Now it needs the right companion. Something to match the salt and smoke. What liquor would you pair with this?”

Her eyes lit up. “I was hoping you’d say that. Stay right here—I’ve got exactly the bottle.”

She spun on her heel and strode off with sharp, purposeful grace, heading toward a concealed panel near the back bar. It opened at her touch, revealing a private stash few on the island had seen. Qor watched her go, noting the admiring glances that followed in her wake. Sparkles wasn’t just a hostess—she was the gravity that held this entire event together. People revolved around her.

He turned back to the hall as he waited, idly observing the social tide. A group of diplomats from the Core milled by the wide windows, pointing out toward the ocean where golden light danced over the horizon. The rhythmic crash of waves echoed faintly from the open archways, framing the distant sound of seabirds circling above the cliffs.

Still, in the corner, Elaine and Ellac had not moved much. Their voices couldn’t be heard, but their expressions said enough. The Nexu blinked slowly, its black eyes reflecting nothing, and the HK droid had now adjusted its stance—blaster lowered slightly, but not off.

Qor wondered idly who would strike first. Or if they would both hold back forever, waiting for the other to bleed.

Sparkles returned with a flourish, holding a thin, frosted bottle of pale blue liquor and two glasses. “Behold—Blue Umber. From the reefs of Selvaris. Slightly salty, a whisper of citrus, and a finish that hugs your throat like a sad poem.”

Qor took the glass, swirling the liquid gently before bringing it to his lips. One sip, and the flavors bloomed: oceanic, sharp, with a trailing sweetness that matched the Whaladon almost too perfectly.

He gave a single, approving nod. “Not bad.”

Sparkles pressed a hand to her chest with exaggerated drama. “One day, you will call something exquisite, and I will die happy.”

Qor allowed himself the smallest smirk, savoring the blend of food, drink, and memory. “Careful. That almost sounded like hope.”

Hugo slunk away to a booth on the outskirts of the festivities. He sat back in his chair, positioning the holsters of his four blasters in a way that made sitting more comfortable as he crossed his thick leg over his knee. A datapad rested on what was left of his lap, the portion not hidden by his stomach, and thumbed through it. Holo-mail littered his inbox ever since gaining Governorship. Where it would bother most. He was right at home. For years he managed Gorvok Station before it’s destruction. Management was in his blood. His mother, may she rest in the Force, or something, taught him from an early age - the art of the deal. But also the swindle, which served him well in life. Sadly, since the destruction of one of Ojom’s most prosperous space stations. The only thing he managed to do was stay one step ahead of the Bounty Hunter’s on his tail and the accruement of gambling debts. Yet.

Power, my friends. Power was in Scholae Palatinae. In an Empire that few would trifle with, Hugo found his place in the stars. Earning credits for his new Clan was his current mission. Relics, Artifacts, Valuable secrets. Power. That word he loved so dearly.

“Sir,” his HK droid stepped up to his table with a golden bryar strapped to its hip rotator. Barely visible beneath the long duster it wore. “incoming message from Locktulla.” Hugo was no fool. His ship, an ISV-55, was always listening.

“Patch me through, Klank.”

“Sir, need I remind you, I hate that name?”

“No, Klank, you needn’t”

He leaned forward and lit another cigar, his beady eyes skimming the crowd before responding.

“What have you got for me?”

Just then he was interrupted.

As small as she is, Wenet manages to avoid any detection as she snoops along the corridors. Until now she doesn’t know where she is, but from the sounds she can tell there’s a celebration going on. ”I do like a party” The Kushiban thinks to herself as she continues to follow the music. The closer she gets her nose picks up the usual scents, Alcohol, smoke, some spice ”my kind of party” she chuckles softly.

When she passes the refreshers she stops. ”hmmm. If I’m gonna crash this shindig I’d probably should freshen up” she wrinkles her nose as the smell of two days trapped in a crate of wine is kinda strong. On her tippy toes she enters the refreshers, making sure no one is there. When the coast is clear she locks the doors and goes to the mirror and hops onto the counter.

”Kark, I look a mess” she says looking at her reflection. Then she fills the sink with warm water and adds hand soap ”Better than nothing, I suppose.” Wenet then removes her dirty clothes, she has fur anyway so technically she doesn’t need any, and hops into the sink. ”ooh.. That’s quite nice” She starts to wash herself, making quite a mess of the place.

Once she’s done she hops back onto the floor, dripping water all over the floor. Since there are no actual towels to dry herself with she decides to use the hand blow dryer. WOOOOOOSHHHH her fur dries quickly, too quick making her look like a ball of fur. ”Atleast im clean” she giggles.

Then she hears knocking, someone is trying to get in. ”Ooh kriff” there’s no time to clean her clothes. So she just puts her belt with all her essentials back on. ”What’s wrong with this door” She hears outside the door.

After disposing of her clothes Wenet walks to the door and unlocks it. ”About time! You’re not suppose to lock this door” An angry woman in a fancy dress says. Wenet just looks her up and down and walks straight past her as if she owns the place. ”What in the world” The woman looks shocked as she watches Wenet Casually walking down the corridor towards the party.

“I wasn’t much older.” Memories of their old home surfaced in Ellac’s mind, replaying his childhood like a movie of the life they once had; He remembered the look of Elaine’s face back then, so young and full of questions. They had been closer back then, even if it was only for survival… “Besides, you seemed to have managed just fine on your own. And you even made yourself a ‘friend’,” he said, frowning down at the Nexu at Elaine’s side.

Callé flicked its tail like a whip against the floor, unleashing a small crack that rang through the air, startling several bystanders and even causing one woman to drop her drink, who yelped again as the crystal shattered against the polished stone.

“Commentary: I am not sure how much longer I can bear to stare at this ugly creature, Master. You had better hurry before my assassination protocols take over,” HK said, fidgeting with the trigger of the EE-3 rifle in his hands.

The Nexu snarled at the machine. His red eyes encompassed his feral tendencies. He’d like nothing more than to rip Ellac and his droid to shreds, however, Elaine knew better. She knew Callé would be lethally wounded or dead before he could even get to either one of them thanks to the HK Unit.

“You were old enough to know how to care for yourself… and that’s exactly what you did.” She stated distastefully.

Elaine looked to the shattered glass the women dropped. She watched as the golden liquid as it crept away from its broken containment. It shimmered in the light, creating a faint, shimmering prism on the polished stone underneath it. She watched the bubbles form from within its circumference.

Tears welled up in her eyes. Her vision blurred as she held them back. A lump formed within her throat.

“Our parents died and you left… you just left me like I was nothing…” she said as her voice trembled.

“I spent years trying to find you and you didn’t even look for me once.”

Waza left the medical facility when he awoke. Realizing Went had left and taken her ship out of the system he began to reevaluate his place in the Clan.

“Moto” Waza keyed his commlink calling his droid companion. “Prepare the ships, begin removing the items from the house. We are leaving the system.” Beeps and whistles returned over the connection. “Yes this will be a permanent exit.”

Hopping on a shuttle to the capital ship in orbit Waza tried to begin tracking the Dead Parrot, Wenet needed support not solitude and seclusion. He would save his friend.

Arriving at his home the droids had managed to load Scooby and his few belongings onto the Skullduggery and Trenzalore. Loading his codes into the Trenzalores navacomp and databanks he set the ship to travel to the intra galactic plane to his seclusion place where he spent years in meditation. On the Skulduggery Waza had his first lead of where the Dead Parrot landed in port.

6 month later 6 months had passed and Waza was appreciating Wenet’s skill of covering her tracks, obviously learned from her time with Azume and the smugglers. The last location he has been able to track down is a nearly hidden spaceport off major space lanes in the unknown regions. A ping returns for the Dead Parrot and his hopes soar. Landing and speaking to the dock master he learns the ship has sat for days and was beginning to accure fees. After several hours of searching his comm chimed an alert tone. A distress signal from Wenet from another system. Quickly programing the Dead Parrot to his solitude sector of space he returned to his ship and set off to rescue his friend.

Present day

Waza dressed in his nicest robes and landed the Skull in the space port.. The Clan space port was not enemy territory but lots of glares and looks at the Jedi made him super aware of his surroundings. Approaching the Spire Waza formulated his plan of action. He would say he was considering a change of clans and would be visiting his final choices, hoping that would get him through the door instead of subterfuge or brute force. Finding Wenet was the goal, and if he actually happened to find a new home that would be a bonus.

Waza approached the door with and mingled in with the crowd flowing in. Sith, Warriors, Droids and wait staff mixed and flowed across the floor. Waza moved through the door and into the crowd.
Waza lifted his comm and sent a ping signal to Wenet to let her know he was close and searching for her. Blending in he lifted a glass of beverage from a passing waiter. Not sure of its contents he sipped and nursed it to appear social. Seeing an HK droid focused on a situation he drifted away to avoid the fight he knew was coming. He only wanted to blend and not be seen, ‘Wenet where are you?’ he thought.

Sparkle could sure throw a party Korvyn thought himself. As he moved into the room. His uniform was carefully crafted to minimize his station. Few outside of the more regular members ever even saw his face. There was no rank or insignia on it. He looked for all intents and purposes as a regular imperial officer. That was until people saw the lightsabers in their class at the small of his back.

Dignitaries and nobles from the once many factions of this planet conversed and lived it up on the Empires dime here. No doubt the pleasantries were just a facade but if they were begging for the Empires scraps and plotting against each other for them, it suited his purposes. The best way to keep them at bay was to have them fighting against each other.

He finally spotted his target, the new governor and leader of House Acclivis Draco. He sat at a table to himself with a data pad in hand. Korvyn had a full dossier on the man and while many would question the alien species being in such a position Korvyn did not. The old ways of the Tarkin Doctrine were proved to be a mistake. One Scholar Palatinae would not repeat.

“Carry on with your call,” the Hand of the Emperor stated, “business first as always, I see.”

<@671903061827911683>

With confidence, Wenet makes her entrance. Her long tail is draped around her like a shawl, her fur is soft and glowing. ”Where am I? Who the heck are these people?” She whispers to herself as she looks around the room. There are no familiar faces but she does notice something else. The insignia on some of the guests, she had seen it somewhere before. ”the Brotherhood?” she wonders and begins her stride across the room.

The Kushiban makes her way to the bar, which is usually the best place to get information, either by asking or simply by eavesdropping. With flair she hops onto an empty bar stool and casually leans with her left arm on the bar. ”One Revnog” She says to the bartender who acknowledges her order with a simple nod.

As she waits for her drink she receives a ping. A smile appears on her furry face when she sees it’s from Waza.

“Don’t say it like they just passed in their sleep. Tell the truth; They were murdered.” Ellac nearly growled the words out.

Elaine flinched at the word, her hand subconsciously gripping a fistful of her companion’s fur as the tears she had been holding back began to fall.

“Do you even remember what happened that day?,” Ellac spat a little louder than he meant to, but he didn’t mind; He had what he wanted. It hadn’t been tactful, but he had managed to push Elaine enough that he could sense the fractures forming in the walls she had built against him.

Reaching out through the Force, Ellac wormed his way into her mind like smoke seeping through the cracks, tugging her fears to the surface. “Who was it that killed them?”

Elaine’s face twisted into a pained wince as she resisted against the intrusion, but she was already at her limit fending off the flood of emotion. Holding tighter to Callé’s fur, memories of her parents’ lifeless bodies flashed through her mind as someone else’s voice whispered to her through her thoughts.

“Who was it, Elaine?,” Ellac hissed.

“You,” Elaine whispered between uneasy breaths.

“That’s right…” Ellac took a cautious step toward her despite the snarling Nexu at her side. “And who’s the one who was too weak to stop me?”

Reiden had slowly moved closer to the siblings, keeping to the edges of the party. The large ice cube clinked against the side of his glass as he set it down on a small high-top table that had been set up as a space for people to stand around and converse. Things had only gotten more tense, which worried him. As did the HK droid’s demeanor. He didn’t want anything to happen to either Conrat, nor the Nexu. His hand subconsciously moved to touch the hilt of his dagger.

This was not the kind of confrontation I was expecting to happen tonight, he thought to himself.

Ellac’s words rattled around in his mind. Suddenly he was back on Corellia all those years ago, watching his world change forever as his own parents were killed. He pushed the memory away, not willing to be caught in its trap.

How will this shape up?

Elaine could feel pieces crumbling from the walls within.

“You… You killed them?” She spoke harshly, grinding her teeth together as the tears streamed down her cheeks. She stared blankly at the polished flooring like a Kybuck in lights.

Her mind was pulled back to when she was a child. Memories she didn’t even know existed began racing through her mind.

She was a child again. Her parents laid there right in front of her, cold and lifeless. Ellac was there… standing next to them. Before she knew it, the stormtroopers were rushing in. They took Ellac away and soon after, Elaine as well.

Crimson clouds began to fill her vision as her teeth firmly planted against one another, the sound of them grinding filled her ears.

She released Callé from her grasp and slowly arose, head lowered towards the ground. Her rich, brown hair covered her face as she slowly raised her hand to her waist and unclipped her lightsaber from her belt.

She lowered it, pointing it towards the ground, igniting it. The blood-red blade shone off the flooring with vibrancy, radiating its light all around, unafraid to be seen.

Callé, understanding her display as his cue, lunged at the HK Unit with a prominent shriek emitting from the beast as he barred his fangs for the kill.

Qor had just settled into a rare moment of peace when the Force shifted.

He stood at one of the Monolith’s catering tables, a gilded spread left inexplicably untouched—likely due to the rising tension in the Citadel. But Qor, ever the opportunist, had found comfort in the warm, marinated Whaladon laid out in thick, delicate slices. The flavor was rich, oily, seasoned with foreign spices he couldn’t quite place. He hummed with approval, licking the fat from his fingers.

And then he felt it.

A spike in the Force. Cold, jagged, and dark.

He froze mid-chew.

It wasn’t just darkness. It was personal.

Qor turned, eyes narrowing as he stepped from the edge of the banquet hall toward the central chamber. The towering blackstone doors were already cracked open. Inside, he saw the silhouettes of two figures facing each other—one rigid with fury, the other calm and dreadful.

Ellac.

Even without seeing his face, Qor could feel him—like old scars reopening. That same pressure, that same hunger behind every word, every gesture. The Sith had grown stronger since their last meeting. Stronger… and more broken.

Elaine stood opposite him, her body tense, one hand twitching by her side. Qor didn’t need to touch her mind to know what boiled inside her. Rage, disbelief, grief—a mix as volatile as tibanna gas.

He hovered just outside, cloaked in the Force, silent as vapor.

Ellac spoke with that familiar, surgical precision: “They were weak. Our parents. They let the galaxy soften them.”

Elaine’s reply was sharp. “They loved us.”

Qor’s tendrils coiled instinctively.

“Love is a leash. Fear is a throne,” Ellac said.

Qor sighed through his gills. Still so dramatic, he thought. But then he felt the air shift again.

Ellac moved, subtly, with just a flicker of intent. A dark ripple spread from his presence—Force energy, laced with invasive precision. Qor recognized it: a variant of Mind Trick, but darker, more insidious. It slid into Elaine like a dagger into flesh, twisting memory and perception until her knees buckled.

And then her voice: small but sharp, a blade honed on pain. “You killed them.”

The accusation cracked through the silence like a thunderclap.

Ellac didn’t deny it.

Qor’s hand hovered near his belt. His dagger sat idle, waiting. He could end this here. Stop it before it spiraled out of control.

But then came the Nexu.

The beast launched itself from the shadows, a blur of muscle and instinct. It slammed into Ellac’s HK droid with a roar, claws rending metal like parchment. The droid screamed, then sputtered, then fell—its head skittering across the floor until it landed at Qor’s feet.

He looked down at it. Blinking. Then back up.

Elaine’s saber ignited in a hiss of crimson. She was moving—fast, fueled by righteous fury and the full weight of betrayal. Ellac shifted his stance, hands rising, but still calm.

Qor exhaled slowly. No longer eating. Just watching.

He stood at the threshold of a family’s collapse, and once again, he was the outsider. The surgeon. The observer. But not the healer. Not this time.

He could intervene. Maybe stop them both. But who would he be saving?

A brother who embraced darkness?

A sister who burned with vengeance?

Or was he simply preserving a moment—to study, to remember, to mourn?

He did not know.

He stepped forward, the hem of his robe brushing the cold stone floor.

The Monolith’s silence was about to shatter.

And Qor would be there—not as a judge, not as a warrior…

…but as the only one left to carry the truth.

Enraged and betrayed yet again, Elaine leapt at her disfigured brother with fury in her heart and tears in her eyes, her red blade brandished above her head.

Raising a metal hand, Ellac drew upon the Force, seizing Elaine’s throat with an unseen grip.

Elaine gagged as her airway suddenly constricted, stopping her in her tracks as she felt the pressure quickly building behind her eyes. Her breathing had already been inconsistent, but now it was cut off entirely. Her legs kicked in silent protest as she felt the ground beneath her slip away, the invisible hand around her throat hoisting her into the air. Her fingers tightened around the hilt of her saber. Her saber. In a desperate move, Elaine reeled back her arm as far as she could, hurling her lightsaber straight at her brother’s head.

Ellac’s senses rang with alarm; Something was flying fast at his face. The heat emitting from of the blade had barely touched his face before pure reflexive instinct pulled him out of the way, ducking under it as it spiraled past him and straight into the Nexu that stood snarling over his deconstructed droid.

Callé howled in pain as the blade sliced clean through one of its front legs, the cry echoing out through the otherwise silent hall. Guttural and horrifying, the scream sent a shiver down even Ellac’s spine, pulling his focus away from Elaine as he turned to face the beast.

Elaine collapsed to the ground, coughing and gasping for air as her face pressed hard into the cold stone. “Callé…,” she croaked, clutching her throat with one hand as she pushed herself to her knees with the other. Her face scrunched as she tried to see past the throbbing in her head and the tears in her eyes. “Callé!” Her voice filled the silent air of the Monolith in chorus with her pet’s agonizing groans.

Rising back to full height, Ellac looked back toward his sister’s cries as she began to crawl toward the Nexu.

As quickly as it had left, the tension of silence fell back upon the room. Ellac could feel the gaze of a thousand eyes burning against his back, horrified yet unable to peel their eyes from the scene unfolding before them.

As he ‘watched’ his sister rush to Callé’s side, a thought occurred to him, like an image of a reflection of a dream within his mind: He had seen this before. This was how it happened back when they were children, Elaine crying at his feet while he stood over her with blood on his hands.

“History repeats itself,” Ellac said, letting his cloak fall back over his arms, concealing the metal of his reconstructed body.

Somewhere in the crowd, nestled deep among their ranks, Ellac could feel Kamjin’s presence, relishing in the turmoil between the siblings, and he knew: This would come back to haunt him.

Waza felt the emotions flare and the force get tugged into fractures. The snap hiss of a saber igniting and the surge of power.

“Kriffing Sith always fighting” Waza mumbled under his breath. At least he was not in this fight. Seconds tick by in slow motion, heads turn, some ignore the raised voices.

Waza moves towards the edge of the room, sighting the bar he angles towards it. The Nexu screams in pain, Waza hesitates as the feelings wash through the force. The animals pain is troublesome but his mission is clear in his mind.

Passing Uniformed officers and others in various fancy clothing he spots a familiar pair of ears parked at the bar. He reaches out with the force touching her mind with a greeting and his pace quickens.

As usual, the drink Wenet had ordered was served to her in a regular sized glass. The Kushiban chuckles and grabs it with both hands. She turns on her seat to face the room.

Casually sipping her drink she scans her environment, observing the other guests. Her long fluffy ears twitch as tries to eavesdrop. Until now she hasn’t figured out yet, where exactly she is or who these people are. But she is certain that they are either part of the Brotherhood or some sketchy allies.

Then all of sudden she feels something, a rise of emotions: anger and pain. She can also hear something is happening, although from where she is sitting she can’t really see. But her ears turn towards the sound.

”these are definitely not Jedi” she thinks to herself as she picks up parts of the argument . But as the argument turns into an actual fight she starts to really worry. Whomever these people are, Wenet is now certain they are Sith and she hadn’t heard much good about them. Crowd moves away from the fight, Wenet can now see glimpses of the fight. Nervously she continues to sip from her drink, thinking it’s probably best to make an exit soon.

Everything happens quite fast but from the sudden silence in the room she assumes it’s over. From the gasps she realizes something bad happened. But then she feels someone familiar. Wenet looks around and sees Waza approaching her. Instantly she feels relief

Elaine pulled Callé up into her lap, cradling him.

“What have you done?!” she exclaimed, her voice was course, rough, and irritating.

Blinded by rage, she reached out her hand. Focusing her energy through the Force, she lifted a piece of the scrapped HK Unit and sent it hurdling towards Ellac’s head.

Ellac once again dodged his sister’s onslaught. The fragment continued past its intended target with momentum and struck another guest.

The bystander was stricken. Collapsed to the floor. The stone was beginning to cover in red.

Though she knew what had just transpired, Elaine couldn’t care less. She had no regard for any consequences her actions brought to others, she just wanted Ellac to pay for what he had done. Her parents… abandoning her… and now Callé.

She was responsible for Callé’s affliction but she could not see it.

Karabast

Reiden sighed and shook his head at the display. He pulled his sleeve up and punched something into his gauntlet before softly speaking into his comlink. He had no idea if any medical personnel were on standby - which probably would have been a good idea, considering what happened to Duk last time. Either way, now the proper people had been notified and would be arriving in time.

“That’s enough,” he informed the pair as he approached, his voice firm. There was fire in his eyes. “I feel compelled to say that you both have great potential and it would be a damn shame for the Empire to lose valuable assets like the two of you. But, if you want to kill each other then, please, by all means, do so. But not here. You need to learn to pick your battles. There’s a time and a place for everything and this is not it.”

Waza made his way to the bar just as pieces of table begin to soar across the room. “My dearest friend, I’ve searched for you since you left the war.” He said as he took the seat next to the Kushiban. “How did you end up here?” Waza listened patiently and watched the surroundings for signs of the fight spilling into chaos or an all out riot. “Wenet you ended up in Clan Scholae Palatinae, one of the other clans in the Brotherhood. I was worried when I found the Dead Parrot all alone. I have it secured for now whenever you want to go get it.”

“Lets move to a table away from the bar, I see some tables over there next to the Besalisk working on the datapad, we can talk some and maybe this commotion will die down.”

“Get out of the way Reiden, this doesn’t concern you!” She growled, waving her hand in a dismissive manner.

“How did you end up here?” Waza asked her. At once her ears flatten and she replies “I think you know” clearly embarrassed that once again her curiosity got he into trouble.

“Yeah, let’s move” She agrees, placing her half emty glass on the bar and then hops off the barstool onto the ground. She was relieved to hear that her ship was save. “Glad I didn’t have Baka with me on that job. Can’t imagine what would have happened if he’d been all alone for two days. Probably wouldn’t be anything left of the Dead Parrot” Wenet talked to Waza as if time hadn’t passed. “I’m so glad you came.. With all that ruckus over there I began to worry”

He turned to the younger Conrat and lifted her into the air with a flick of his wrist, holding her there. “You began fighting at a clan gathering. Your actions have made it a concern of mine. This is supposed to be a celebration and a welcome. Do you really think this is the kind of welcome that was hoped for?” He shook his head. “For what it’s worth, I took the liberty of calling in medics. I’m sure they’ll be along shortly. If you want Calle to get treated, give them my name and they’ll find someone with the appropriate skills to do so. If you want to get checked out yourself, feel free.”

“And you,” he began, facing Ellac. “You had a role in this as well. Despite that, I’m willing to extend a hand. You want that droid repaired? I know someone that can help. But if you want to continue this fight, I suggest you take it outside at the very least.” <@503352868363960336>

Inclining his ear back to the Elomin who had been struck by the fragment of his droid, Ellac had to smirk. “HK would be proud to know that, even destroyed, he’s still causing harm.” The medical staff had wasted no time responding to the incident, and were already hard at work cleaning up the pool of blood.

Turning back toward Reiden, Ellac stepped toward the Elder, bowing his head slightly. “I need HK repaired quickly. He’s become something of a necessity for me.”

The young Sith ‘looked’ up at his sister, suspended again in the air. He could still feel all her anger, all her pain, radiating from her like heat from the sun. Some small part of him pitied her, but Ellac swiftly silenced it. Pity would do neither of them any good. Not now. Not after everything they’ve lost. “Come find me again when you can actually kill me.”

Reiden nodded, mostly out of habit, then realized the error. “I understand. I’ve got someone that can take a look at him. He does good work, located in Azatra. He even set up a little shop there. If he can’t figure it out, I’m sure he can call in a favor to some people he knows. I’ll have him come here. The workshop is well equipped and materials shouldn’t be a problem.”

He slowly lowered Elaine back to the floor, releasing his grip on her. His gaze kept flicking between the two, not sure what to expect next.

Elaine wiped her eyes and dusted her self off. Her head was pounding as hard as her heartbeat and the tears didn’t help. But then again, neither did being dropped and colliding face first with the stone. Her face was flushed however her forehead was noticeably more red, hints of blue and purple hues beginning to develop.

Elaine’s expression never faltered from her furrowed brows to the vortex of hate within her eyes. She crouched down a picked up Callé as he cried in pain.

Elaine turned away from her brother, her brown hair and black cloak whipping in the draft of air left in her wake. She made her way to the medics, the sound of the heels on her boots filling in the silent gaps within the vicinity.

“Bring me your strongest painkillers and a cloth to wrap his leg immediately,” she spoke firmly, unwilling to be denied her demand.

“R-Right away, M’lady,” a medic responded hastily, frightened of what might happen to him if he delayed.

He reached into what appeared to be a first aid kit, handing the Equite a compact package containing a small amount of painkillers and the bandage, like she desired.

Elaine crouched down once more and gently laid her feline down. She reached up, snatched the package from the medic and tore it open. She opened her Nexu’s mouth, reached in, and dropped the analgesics at the back of his throat, making sure he swallowed them. She then proceeded to carefully yet securely wrapping Callé leg. He roared in pain.

She slapped the now empty package into the hand of the medic she had taken it from. Picking up her Nexu once again, she made her way to a secluded booth not far from the bar and laid Callé on cushion of the innermost part of the booth. She removed her cloak and draped it over the beast and took a seat beside him, monitoring him as she repeatedly stroked her hand gently over him, stretching from the base of his neck and down his back.

The booth smelled of scorched fur and chemical pain.

Callè lay curled under a heavy fabric cloak, her breathing shallow, her massive frame trembling with every drawn-out exhale. The limb was gone—severed in a flash of panic by Elaine’s own lightsaber. The wound had been cauterized, but not cleanly. Smoke and the faint scent of iron still lingered.

Elaine sat beside her beast, silent and still. One hand rested gently on Callè’s head, the other clenched around whatever guilt or fury remained in her bones.

Qor approached like drifting mist, soundless, scentless—just a presence felt before it was seen. He didn’t speak immediately, didn’t clear his throat. He stood near the edge of the booth, observing the scene with a physician’s detachment and a Sith’s inner monologue sharpening like a blade.

“You acted quickly,” he finally said, voice soft and deliberate. “Most would have hesitated. You didn’t. But the execution was… inelegant.”

He gestured lazily toward the hidden limb.

“Cauterized too close to the nerve clusters. That kind of trauma forces the body into systemic shock. The painkillers are dulling her panic, but not the long-term damage.”

A moment passed. He watched Elaine. She didn’t look up.

“She’ll live. But she won’t be whole. She’ll be confused. Slower. She’ll hesitate the next time you need her most.”

Another pause, longer this time. And then came the hook.

“I could fix her.”

Qor stepped closer, folding his hands behind his back. “Alchemical regeneration. Not a crude cybernetic. I could shape bone and sinew, design it stronger than before—sleeker, more adaptive. She wouldn’t just recover. She’d evolve.”

His voice was smooth as glass now—measured, barbed.

“But I don’t operate on sentiment. Or charity.”

His eyes narrowed, glowing faintly in the booth’s low light.

“So the question becomes—what are you willing to give… for power returned?”

And then, as if the moment stirred something behind his eyes, a memory surfaced.

The lab chamber glowed with old Sith energy. Pale red lights buzzed, casting shadows over the apprentice’s trembling form. She lay on a durasteel slab, the air around her thick with antiseptic and old blood. Her hand was gone, lost in a training duel. She’d screamed once. Just once.

“Pain is not punishment,” Qor had said, adjusting the collar of his robes. “It’s information.”

She whimpered, muscles locked in place as the alchemical current began pulsing through the wound—tendons knitting slowly, painfully, without sedation.

“It tells you what’s broken. What can be rebuilt. And what should be left behind.”

The girl asked why—why no sedation, why not use bacta, why not just fix it clean.

Qor didn’t blink.

“Because comfort is for corpses.”

He’d left her like that—shaking, reshaped. Stronger, if she survived. Forgotten, if she didn’t.

Back in the booth, Qor watched Elaine one final time. Her face was unreadable. The Nexu stirred faintly beneath the fabric. This is her trial, he thought. Not mine. If she chooses pain, I’ll know she’s still young. If she chooses power, then I’ll know she’s worth watching.

He let his eyes drift toward the far wall, then said, almost offhandedly:

“Kamjin would’ve savored this. You, sitting in silence with a wounded beast. Bleeding guilt into fur. He used to say: ‘Every master breaks something before they learn to rebuild it.’”

He began to turn away, robes trailing behind like a shadow unhooking from the wall.

“The choice is yours. But the blood’s already clotted. You don’t have long.”

Qor began to walk away. Elaine reached for his cloak then stopped herself before making contact.

“W-Wait!”

Qor halted and turned his head.

“You said you were a surgeon?” She asked.

Qor replied with a simple nod.

“How do I know you’ll do as you say? How do I know you won’t meticulously find away to exploit his weaknesses to benefit yourself?” She questioned.

Qor paused. He let the silence fill with her concern and distrust as the silence enveloped around them.

“You don’t,” he replied, “however, that is the risk you’ll have to decide if you’re willing to accept.”

Elaine contemplated for moment. She looked at Callé then to the Quarren.

“Alright.. I’ll take the risk. Help him,” she pleaded as she arose from her seat, “But just know, if anything happens to him.. if you harm him in any way.. I will not hesitate to take action. I will defend my own by any means necessary. Do we have an understanding?”

Waza and Wenet made their way across to the tables and sat next to the seemingly only being not interested in the family squabble taking place.

‘I can’t beileive I was once a sith like them’ Waza thinks and Wenet hops into a chair.

“So I resigned from the Clan when I found out you had left the system, did you resign also? I’d like us to end up in the same place again if you are staying affiliated with the Brotherhood. I could continue your force training if you’d like. Or will you be looking to form a crew or return to Azumi and return to the smuggling days.?”

Waza looks around as the commotion begins to die down and the medical crews move in to assist the injured.

A Zabraki woman signals to the band to strike up the music again and things begin to return to normal for a social event.

“Ya know what? Let’s just table this important conversation for when we get out of here, we’re at a party lets mingle and cut loose for a bit. What do you think?”

“You resigned?” Wenet responds in shock and stares at him with her big blue eyes. She blinks a couple of times and then shakes her head “No.. I.. I didn’t” she admitts and thinks back about it. “After Quermia I went back to the Temple, I.. I..” her ears flatten and her eyes turn sad shes obviously struggling with finding the words.

“Yeah… Let’s save it for another day” Wenet musters a smile, relieved that Waza decided not to continue the conversation. She hadn’t resigned from Odan-Urr, she just left to cope on her own with what had happened on Quermia.

Wenet smiles at Waza for trying to change the subject but just mention of the war had brought back a lot of memories. The noise and the smell of burned flesh and fresh blood brought her right back. The sudden sound of a glass breaking makes her flinch and her ears go straight up, listening to her surroundings.

“WHAT IS THIS FILTH!” Someone yells from crowd. “I’m terribly sorry sir.. I.. I.. I..” A waiter stammers nervously. “How dare you serve this to me!.. You will pay for this.” Wenet instantly knows what happened and her eyes widened again. “Oh boy… That must have tasted nasty” She thinks to herself.

“What did you say? You want to mingle?” she asks Waza, trying push away the memories of the war. “Here? With these people?” she wrinkles her nose and looks nervous. “don’t want to end up in a fight” she refers to the what had happed a moment ago between what seemed to be siblings. “Don’t think these people will appreciate us crashing their party”

Watching in silence as Elaine stormed off, Ellac turned back to Reiden, gesturing with a nod over to the bar. “Drink?”

“Understood,” he said. “I would expect nothing less.” Then, with one slow breath, Qor raised a webbed hand. The Force stirred, and from his palm bloomed a thick, oily fog—dark as sea ink. It spread like a living thing, swirling between them. Elaine stiffened, her hand drifting near the hilt on her hip, but she did not draw.

The cloud twisted, coiling like smoke under pressure—then it peeled back, rolling outward as if pushed from within. From its heart, a white-armored figure stepped forward.

He was massive in frame, broad-shouldered, with a helmet that gleamed in the light of the makeshift encampment. His white armor bore the scuffs of past battles, and a faded blue stripe ran across his chest plate, partly scratched away. His stance was square and unmoved, as if carved from stone. Slung over one shoulder was a compact, military-grade stretcher.

He walked to Qor’s side, unhurried, and lowered the stretcher with a quiet, deliberate motion. Then he straightened and stood at attention, his posture perfect.

Elaine stared. “Who in the stars—?”

“This,” Qor said, “is CT-4147. He answers to me. You may call him ‘Forty-One.’”

The clone gave no response, no acknowledgment. He simply remained still, arms behind his back, his visor trained straight ahead.

“He’s not a healer,” Qor continued. “But I don’t need a healer. I need hands that won’t shake, and strength that won’t falter.” CT-4147 did not move.

“He was bred to fight, not think. And yet—he chose to follow me.” Elaine’s eyes narrowed. “A clone? Why would he serve you?”

“I didn’t ask,” Qor replied. “I gave him purpose. He accepted.” He moved past Forty-One and knelt beside Callè, examining the Nexu’s stump with a cold, clinical air. His fingertips hovered just above the torn flesh, not touching, but sensing.

“Forty-One,” Qor said without turning, “support the Nexu’s back. Gently.”

The clone moved with precision, kneeling on one knee and sliding both arms beneath the unconscious creature’s torso. Elaine instinctively stepped forward, but paused when she saw how careful he was—his movements firm but without cruelty, practiced from a lifetime of training.

As Forty-One knelt beside the Nexu, Qor crouched, placing both hands near the wound. His eyes dimmed, breathing slowed. From within, he drew on a technique learned through ancient means—not Jedi, not Sith, but something older, buried in the whispers of his secret dodecagon holocron. It was not healing in the traditional sense. It was restoration through control—coaxing flesh to remember itself, to rewrite its own injury through sheer will. A whisper of black mist trailed from his fingers as the process began.

Callè stirred slightly, muscles twitching, but remained sedated. Qor drew a small capsule from his belt and cracked it open beneath the Nexu’s snout. A faint scent, sharp and herbal, drifted into the air.

“He’ll sleep. Long enough for what needs to be done.” Elaine crouched beside her companion, brushing his fur with her fingers. “What are you going to do to him?”

“I’m going to replace what was taken,” Qor said simply. “Not with durasteel, not with some crude machine… but something better. A limb grown from memory. Something that feels natural.”

He retrieved a small case from his robes, unfolding it with care. Inside were tools both familiar and strange—some looked like bone, others like surgical instruments from a long-forgotten civilization. The scent of alchemical resin filled the air.

“I’ve mapped the neural pattern of Nexu tissue before. Their minds, their instincts—they cling to what they lose. If I don’t replicate that memory, the body will reject it. So I will rebuild from the memory.” Elaine frowned, still watching Forty-One. “And your soldier? What’s he really here for? Protection?”

“No,” Qor said, selecting a long, thin probe. “He is here because I need someone who does not flinch. Someone who obeys.”

He glanced up at the clone. “Do you serve me, Forty-One?”

CT-4147 responded with a single word, his voice modulated and emotionless through the helmet: “Always.”

That was all.

Elaine shook her head. “He doesn’t even question it?”

“No,” Qor said, adjusting the emitter beside the Nexu’s leg. “Because he was bred not to. But also because he has learned—through me—that loyalty does not require chains. He follows because he believes.”

A flicker of blue light shimmered into the air—a skeletal projection of a Nexu leg, full-scale and rotating slowly, projected from the emitter.

Elaine’s eyes widened.

“That’s… that’s Callè’s leg?”

“An echo of it,” Qor replied. “Stored in the Force. I just needed his scent, a memory, and his blood.”

She looked at him, face shadowed in the jungle light. “You frighten me.”

“Good,” he murmured, lowering his tool to begin. “That means you’ll stay out of the way.”

CT-4147 said nothing, arms steady beneath the beast’s weight. He did not complain. He did not move.

He was a silent guardian while the surgeon worked, his strength a fixture in the scene, unmoving as time itself.

As the conversation with Hugo carried on Korvyn couldn’t help but notice the new arrivals in his vicinity. It wasn’t everyday one saw a Kushiban on Seraph after all. Though short the white fur did stand out. Their companion was less conspicuous at first glance. Obviously human with a beard it almost covered the scars on his face. But the real give away was the lightsaber at his belt. It was mostly covered by his robes and most would have never noticed it. It was however Korvyn’s job to notice the details.

The pair seemed unsettled by the Conrat siblings actions. The duo were consistent if nothing else. One the fuel the other the lighted flame. Pity they could be so much more useful if they would stop trying to kill each other and their pets.

“I am sure the Empress will address the mess those two made.” Korvyn stated towards the pair without introducing himself. He continued as if they we were invited guests not giving a hint that he knew otherwise. “She will find a suitable punishment for their indiscretion. She does hate collateral damage. Are you enjoying the party?”

<@741417155546841158> <@284910376007761925>

Reiden tapped out a quick message to his friend, instructing him to get to the Monolith’s workshop as soon as he could for a job. He eyed the younger man. For the moment, things seemed to have been settled. He doubted that was the end of it, though - those feelings didn’t just go away unless you made them go away, usually by acting on them. But that was a problem for another day and, frankly, none of his concern. Although he did sincerely hope they could move past it some day, one way or another. He was telling the truth when he spoke of their potential or saying they were valuable assets. Still, it would be up to them to figure things out.

He looked around and spotted the booth Elaine had gone to with Calle. Qor had joined them and now the area was obscured. That was another thing not to concern himself with. He faced Ellac again and gave a shrug of his shoulders, nodding.

“Sure. I could use another.”

The sound of clinking glasses and quieted conversations guided Ellac to the bar’s edge, relying on the Force to lead him through the darkness that surrounded him.

As Ellac stepped to the counter, what little exchange that returned amongst the guests seated there died out entirely at the sight of him; Some stared down silently at their drinks, a few even got up, fearing even to be near him after what had transpired.

“Are you serving Xenergy here?,” Ellac said, placing a metal hand on the bar.

“You’re the first to ask,” a woman’s voice came from across the counter. A pink skinned woman, with her deep blue hair tied in a bun, propped herself against the bar opposite of Ellac. Reaching down below the counter, she lifted a metal can from a crate, placing the drink before the Equite. Something in the air around her smelled sweet, though Ellac couldn’t tell exactly what the source of the fragrance was. “And what about you?,” she said, turning to Reiden. “What can I get you?”

Reiden followed Ellac back to the bar. Once again he gazed at the bottles, wondering if he should go with something different this time. That familiar logo almost seemed to call out to him. He had heard that Kasiya Estates Distillery had made other ages of the spirit, but he had yet to try them himself. That was something he would need to rectify one day, hopefully soon. This time, however, his eyes settled on something closer to home - his home, that is. Old standbys were just as good as new discoveries and they often had the benefit of being reliable since their popularity ensured they weathered whatever new thing hit the market. And besides, he wasn’t the one that was paying for the drinks tonight, a benefit of official functions such as this.

“Whyren’s Reserve, please. On the rocks,” he informed the bartender.

The woman got to work. It was a simple request, but her moves were smooth and flowing. He could tell that she had plenty of experience behind the bar. Whiskey poured freely into the glass, no measurements made, but he had no doubt that it was accurate. Then a large ice cube was added to it and the glass slid across the bar to him. As he lifted it to take a sip, he noticed something unusual: an Imperial cog stamped on its surface.

Sometimes the little things make all the difference, he thought with a smile.

Elaine observed the fellow Equite as he worked. She wanted to rebuttal against his comment but she didn’t consider that to be a good idea while he was in such proximity to Callé. She didn’t want to take the chance of him harming Callé if she provoked him.

Qor acted with precision, not a flicker of doubt, or any other emotion for that matter, displayed upon his face. He was still. Deliberate. Not even one of his tentacles moved without his permission.

“Where did you learn how to do this?” She queried, her emotions betraying her as they evinced across her face. She was curious yet also cautious. Scared yet calm. Her emotions were still raw, untamed and unbalanced from the engagement with her brother and it didn’t take the Force to see that.

Hugo offered a lazy salute to Korvyn before picking up his datapad. The noise of conversation, laughter, and arguments in the background made it difficult to make out the message crackling through. What he did hear, caused a tremor to run up his spine.

“He’s coming.” There was a long pause, “The shadows whisper his name.”

Hugo dropped the datapad to the table. He sold what was left of his soul to be in his current position and the buyer was on his way.

“What?!” Hugo responded, leaning forward to produce a hushed shout through clenched teeth.

”The shadows whisper his name,” was the only reply before there was dead-air.

Hugo growled and slammed his fists onto the table.

Passersby side eyed him as they walked by and Hugo delivered a fraudulent smile to one individual as they steered clear and fixed their tie with a wiggle.

“Everything is fine, enjoy your evening!” He waved a hand. “All is well.” He added but there was no one near. Perhaps he was just trying to reassure himself.

“Klank”

“Sir?”

“Prepare for our unexpected guest.”

Apparition

”Xod, Xod, Xod, Xod” chants lurked in the darkness of the Apparition. Ceaseless worship hung like a stagnant fume in a ship dripping with moisture from built in humidifiers. It was kept dark and the floors were covered in a dank mildew. Slimy moss grew on the rusted walls lined with artifacts from the Krath Order.

Doors leading from the entrance to the throne room slid open. Smoke lingered and swirled within the room. A luminescent pierced through the dark and landed on a stone throne, more long than it was tall. The chants grew louder and war drums pounded rhythmically as the shriek of a Krayt Dragon echoed up from the belly of the black vessel.

“My lord.” A voice in the darkness spoke up.

Instantly, two yellow eyes snapped into existence above the throne.

“We will be arriving shortly.”

Wenet shifted on her seat and watched the room. The fight was over but there were still a lot of things happening, she could feel it and mad her uncomfortable.

Then suddenly a stranger turned his attention to their table and spoke. “Yes.. The empress will know what to do” she said as if she knew who that was, she then glanced at Waza opposite of her. “oh yes, we are enjoying the party… Right old man?” Wenet answered the stranger, still looking at Waza to say something aswell. At least he knew something about this clan, Wenet knew nothing, she was bluffing.

<@583854106599489557> <@284910376007761925>

Qor’s cobalt, glassy eyes lifted to meet Elaine’s gaze, unblinking and cold, like the fathomless ocean trenches from which his kind had once ruled in silence. His hands never stopped moving—calm, precise, each gesture deliberate as he manipulated the alchemic bindings around Callé’s forming limb. His scalpel-like dagger, treated in ancient rites, glinted under the dim light, weaving flesh and alchemical metal into something altogether new. Something stronger.

“My mother taught me,” he said at last, his voice low and even, almost detached. Every syllable carried the weight of something old, something submerged beneath layers of obedience and expectation. “She was a healer once. Before she found… greater purpose.”

As if reacting to the memory, a faint ripple traveled through Qor’s facial tentacles, betraying a flicker of something he quickly repressed. They stilled again just as swiftly, returning to their measured discipline. Nothing moved on Qor unless he willed it. Not even a single tendril.

Elaine’s emotions bled into the room, rich and vibrant in the Force like an open wound. Fear. Curiosity. Anger. Grief. She did not need to speak them aloud; they poured from her skin and spirit alike. To someone like Qor, attuned to the more primal aspects of life, she was as readable as a map.

Without lifting his gaze again, Qor continued, his voice soft but firm, each word placed like a stone on a grave. “She believed flesh was malleable. Weakness could be carved away like rot. She showed me that true strength lies not in resisting change, but in mastering it.”

He shifted slightly, pressing a rune of his own design into the forming tissue of Callé’s new limb. The Nexu twitched but made no sound. Qor’s touch was firm yet clinical, treating Callé with a mixture of respect and ownership—as a craftsman would a masterpiece still in the making.

“You must not fear what you see here,” he murmured, more to himself than to Elaine. “This is not cruelty. It is clarity.”

There was a moment of silence broken only by the soft crackle of binding magics and the subtle pulse of the Force responding to his will. Sith Alchemy was no art for the impatient or the unsure. It demanded conviction. Sacrifice. Understanding that creation was an act of violence against what once was.

“You wear your emotions like a tattered cloak,” he said after a time, a slight edge of reprimand slipping into his tone. “You think fear hidden behind a calm face is enough to fool someone like me?”

A small, humorless smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. It was not an expression of cruelty, but of certainty. Of knowledge honed by long practice in the harsh crucible of Sith training.

“I smell it, Elaine,” he said simply. “The tremor in your breath. The quake in your blood. The way the Force shudders around you. Fear is not easily hidden. Nor is it easily tolerated.”

Another rune burned itself into Callé’s flesh, and Qor leaned back slightly to examine his work. Satisfied for the moment, he began binding the alchemic components tighter, ensuring the energy would not tear itself apart once fully integrated.

“You are wise not to provoke me while I work,” he said conversationally, as if discussing weather or trade routes instead of the irrevocable reshaping of living flesh. “Disrupt the pattern now, and Callé would suffer for it. Perhaps you would, too.”

He glanced up again then, studying her with an assessing gaze, as a predator might watch another creature from the darkness—curious whether it was prey, rival, or merely another shadow.

“But you are not here to challenge me, are you?” he said, voice dropping lower, more intimate. “You are here because you want to understand. Even if part of you recoils.”

He paused, allowing her a moment to answer if she dared. When no words came, he returned to his work, his hands moving with ritualistic precision.

“Good,” he murmured. “Curiosity is the beginning of mastery. Even fear, properly guided, can become strength.”

The final seal took shape under his careful ministrations—a complex sigil combining ancient Quarren design and forbidden Sith script. It locked the energy into Callé’s limb, ensuring that strength and savagery alike would be channeled through the Nexu’s will, not against it.

The process was nearing completion. Already the Nexu’s muscles rippled with new vitality, the grafted limb growing as if it had always been part of her. She would be faster now. Deadlier. Less a creature of instinct, and more a weapon honed by purpose.

Qor sat back at last, letting out a slow, controlled breath. The air around him felt heavier, charged with the lingering aftertaste of raw power.

He wiped the blood from his dagger with a square of black cloth, cleaning it meticulously before sheathing it at his belt. Every action was performed with the same meticulousness he had displayed during the ritual itself.

Without rising, he turned his full attention back to Elaine, studying her once more.

“Ask your questions,” he said at last, his voice little more than a whisper against the charged silence. “Before your courage fails you.”

There was no mockery in his tone—only cold invitation, the kind that promised both knowledge and danger in equal measure.

Qor waited, still as a deep sea beast beneath the waves, watching to see whether Elaine would sink—or swim.

“What has the former Emperor done now?” Korvyn thought to himself. It wasn’t often something got under Sparkle’s skin. In fact it was the first time he had ever seen her like this. He was sure it would come to light eventually. In the mean time Korvyn already had enough dirt on the Justicar to bury him. Both politically and literally. He wouldn’t waste it on this occasion though. He knew far too well that having an ace up his sleeve was very valuable. More so than even Sparkle.

The two newcomers had garnered his interest much more than Sparkle and her sudden outburst. While the party was more or less open to everyone they were a surprise. He made a mental note to find out more about them himself. In the meantime he brought out a data pad and sent a message to his team at the Imperial Security Bureau to start gathering dossiers on the pair. They could prove to be valuable allies, at least they could be assets to use for the future.

With a slight nod to his bodyguard Race the pair turned and exited the party. He had enough politicians for one night and hours of security and audio recording to go through. A little food and drink always got people talking and who knows what details might have slipped out.

Elaine left a moment of silence between the two Equites as she carefully considered her response.

“I will refrain from any more questions tonight,” she spoke plainly yet with respect. She watched as the remaining cells formed the last of Callé’s formerly missing limb.

“You are definitely skilled. Your mother taught you well,” she stated in a gentle manner. With the regeneration process now complete, it was time for her to take her leave. Elaine had far too much excitement for one night and she had a lot to process after her encounter with Ellac.

“You have my respect. Perhaps the next time we meet it won’t be under such crude circumstances.” She lifted Callé into her arms and began to make her leave. She passed by the other invitees in the room without a second thought. Pausing for a moment, she turned around and look at the Empress and gave a respectful and remorseful bow.

Elaine swiftly left the Monolith just as elegantly as she had arrived.

When she reached the sand, she let out an exhausted sigh as she laid Callé onto the speeder they had arrived on and embarked towards her home on Seraph.

The wind brushed her face and the sound of the speeder filled her ears. She was finally alone… she was at her breaking point despite what she had hoped her weak façade would hide. Tears began to stream down her cheeks as her vision blurred. She didn’t wipe them, she let the tears continue to flow down her cheeks.

Her feelings had not faltered from her encounter with her brother. Her hatred towards him was beginning to consume her along with her grief. It wasn’t that she simply remembered her parent’s death, she relived it. Even the parts she couldn’t remember.

Why did you kill them…? WHY?! She let her anguish engross her as she made her way home.

Elaine departed without another word, Callé’s unconscious form draped carefully in her arms. Her expression remained stoic, yet as she passed the gathered guests, she spared them no more than a breath. It wasn’t until she reached the threshold of the Monolith’s grand hall that she paused, turning to meet the gaze of Empress Rayne.

A moment of silence passed—heavy and thick with unsaid apologies. Elaine offered a low, remorseful nod. Not quite a bow, but enough to acknowledge the weight of the evening’s events. The Empress returned the gesture with a solemn grace, saying nothing.

And with that, Elaine stepped through the open archway, her figure swallowed by the sea-mist curling in from the island’s cliffs. The great doors of the Monolith eased shut behind her, sealing off the outside world with a resonant thud.

Qor finally allowed his shoulders to lower.

He stood just outside the booth, the air around him still tinged with the sour scent of cauterized tissue and spent adrenaline. Tools lay scattered across the small surgical tray, stained gloves abandoned neatly beside them. He looked down at his hands. No tremor. No doubt. Only the fading ache of concentration, and the deep, quiet satisfaction of a life saved.

The room remained hushed. Reiden leaned against a support pillar, arms folded, eyes narrowed in thought. Ellac had returned to a corner table with a half-empty glass, the pink liquid barely touched. Kamjin, closer now, tilted his head slightly at Qor, not with recognition, but casual curiosity—an appraisal, perhaps.

Rayne stepped forward at last. “You exceeded expectations, Doctor.”

Qor inclined his head. “My purpose is service, not spectacle. But I thank you.”

“Even so,” she added with a small smile, “the distinction matters.”

There was a lingering tension in the air—not hostile, but uncertain. The aftermath of spectacle always left room for shifting perceptions. Qor didn’t care for it.

He looked to Reiden. “You’ll keep watch on her?”

Reiden gave a slight nod. “Always.”

That was enough.

Qor turned, lifting his medical satchel in one smooth motion. The weight was comforting—familiar. As he adjusted the strap across his shoulder, he looked once more around the Monolith’s vaulted chamber. The flickering ambient lights danced across obsidian walls, casting strange shadows in the reflective surfaces. Music had long since faded. So had levity.

Kamjin watched him still, but said nothing.

“No need to linger,” Qor muttered to himself. “They’ll forget I was here by morning.”

He strode toward the exit, boots echoing against polished stone. At the threshold, he paused briefly, the wind from the sea tugging at his coat. The island beyond lay veiled in moonlight and mist, the faint sound of waves breaking against ancient rocks below.

Qor didn’t look back.

“Next time,” he murmured, “no blood on the carpet.”

With a quiet exhale, he stepped out into the night.

Reiden sipped his drink and watched as Qor left. He hadn’t seen the man in years, yet here he was, slipping right back into the flow of things. He appreciated that he had helped Elaine, knowing how important the nexu was to her. His eyes shifted to Ellac. He knew the man had been through much, especially at the hands of Kamjin and his so-called “training”. The siblings clearly had issues they needed to work out and he only hoped that’s what they would end up doing, rather than killing each other.

His thoughts next drifted to his own memories. What he wouldn’t give to have a family member around. In his mind, found family was just as important as blood, but sometimes it felt like it just wasn’t the same. Of course, the dynamic between the Conrats was different considering what he had overheard. Even so, he tried to hold onto a thread of hope that even if things ended in bloodshed, maybe it wouldn’t end in death. Only time would tell.