“Master Azi’xoss.” Bi’ev bowed stiffly, the motion as forced as the pleasant tone of his greeting.
‘Don’t say Darth Bees. Don’t say Darth Bees.’ The thought alone caused Azi’xoss to smile. It just so happened that he’d been lucky enough to have the timing coincide with the Sith’s clipped greeting, “Darth Aculaetus. Always a pleasure, I’m sure.”
Azi’xoss was not entirely certain why Bi’ev had asked to meet with him, though he fully understood the implication of meeting on Voss and in the center of Voss-Ka.
Almost a pity, their last encounter had been, from Azi’xoss’ point of view, highly entertaining and ending with Bi’ev being stuck in the air until long after Azi’xoss had left the abandoned mining facility. He wouldn’t be able to get away with that sort of thing here; not without infuriating the Voss and causing a massive headache (not to mention strategic loss) for the Republic. The thought that the Sith would be operating under the same restrictions left Azi’xoss with very little trepidation over the requested meeting.
Besides, you don’t meet someone you plan to murder in a tea house. Usually.
The Pureblood forced a smile, “After all, this is a friendly meeting, is it not? No need for formalities.” He turned aside, motioning for Azi’xoss to enter the teahouse first. The Twi’lek brushed past him, bowing slightly as he did so.
Bi’ev couldn’t tell for certain if the Twi’lek’s expression had shifted from—anything, really. He wasn’t clear as to whether it was just the Jedi’s face or the tattooing around his eyes and mouth that made him appear perpetually vaguely irritated, even if he was smiling, by everything around him or if that was simply how his face actually appeared. Regardless, he couldn’t sense any actual anger or irritation coming from the Jedi, everything almost shrieked placid to the point that it didn’t even bother Bi’ev that something placid wouldn’t bother shrieking to begin with. Perhaps it was just his face.
Bi’ev shook his head slightly, following Azi’xoss to an empty table, “You had me in the position of an easy kill or capture and walked away. Why?” He kept his voice low, not wanting to cause any sort of disturbance in a Voss teahouse, though the undercurrent of the words rang clear.
“You were subdued.” The Twi’lek’s shoulders rolled in a lazy shrug as he settled down onto the cushions around the table, “Jedi do not kill a subdued foe.”
Bi’ev snorted and had to catch himself to keep from rolling his eyes, “Please—that’s hardly true, and we both know it.” He sunk down onto his own cushions, glowering at the table rather than across it for the moment, “And no capture. I can’t imagine your superiors were pleased about that, especially since it would have been so easy.”
Even if I’d been consulted prior, I would have declined to be a part of such a ridiculous thing. One does not use other people as bait, especially if one is a Jedi Master.
Honestly, some people…
Aside from “on Nar Shaddaa”, I’ve got no idea where my Padawan is, though I am (quietly) searching. He is still able to communicate with me, and I can’t sense any distress from him, which tells me that this Master Areliun isn’t dangerous, just possibly dangerously misguided and motivated by—well, I don’t know what. I am aware that Onekel had been a bounty hunter prior to being discovered as Force sensitive and choosing to go with the Sith, so I can only imagine the trail of bodies and crimes in his wake.
Whatever he’s done is either severe or personal if it prompted a Jedi Master to use such questionable methods.
Onekel and I met on Nar Shaddaa, as he claims to want to help. His idea of help seems to be, “trash the moon until the Jedi pokes his head out.”
That—is not going to work. All that’s going to do is make life miserable (or lethal) for the poor citizens unfortunate enough to be in the Sith’s wake while he’s having his little temper tantrum. Never mind that it wouldn’t likely draw the Jedi out, and would hurt Ehlial quite deeply if he learned that people suffered because of him. Onekel was insisting that he wanted to do what he wanted to do for “Ehlial’s sake”; I told him if that were the case, he would allow me to handle the situation as his methods would only harm Ehlial.
I could not seem to get that point across to him; evidently existing in a state of near perpetual frustration and anger makes one a bit hard of hearing.
Instead, in the end—admittedly, it was a bit underhanded, but Onekel had mentioned who his Master was, so I contacted his Master to let him know that his apprentice had a very strange fixation on ‘rescuing’ a Padawan who did not require actual rescuing.
Oddly, I also found out that Ehlial is related to Darth Achai; interesting bit of trivia, but I doubt anything will come of it.
Regardless, Onekel’s Master must not have been pleased with this revelation and Onekel begrudgingly stepped back to allow me to go about extracting Ehlial using proper, non-violent, non-aggressive methods.
It was a bit of a gamble, I’m sure. Several times during our conversation, Onekel’s hands slid to his sabers and once he very nearly started to try and choke me. Self perservation (not to mention Cartel security and their ‘looks’) reminded him to keep his temper.
It’s so easy to make them angry, I don’t even have to try.
I just have to exist.
Oh, well, exist and not let them get their way all while remaining calm and non-violent.
I’m not certain if I find it disconcerting, depressing, or simply amusing that Onekel so quickly lashed out to take bait in an obvious trap.
(( For more details on where this excerpt came from, go ahead and read this post. ))
What an awful looking little man. Azi’xoss had met “Pureblood” Sith before; he knew what that species looked like and, even if he had not, he would have known this one was wrong. If the pale violet-pink skin, over what likely should have been a deep, vibrant red, and the calculating, nearly glowing red eyes hadn’t easily given that away, the fact that the man had introduced himself with the word “Darth” certainly would have.
Azi’xoss had known they’d fight; he wasn’t stupid, he’d goaded the Sith to come to a quiet, far off bit of an asteroid on purpose. The Sith, of course, had not disappointed, though Azi’xoss had to admit he was surprised that the man had come alone.
Regardless, that Sith wasn’t going anywhere. Not yet. Azix’oss held him several feet off of the ground, suspended and trapped by invisible bonds.
The Twi’lek had made it appear effortless. If the Sith had bothered, even for a moment, to stop thrashing about and shouting, he would have noticed that the concentration it took to hold him in suspension could easily have been broken.
One lekku fell over his slender shoulder as Azi’xoss tilted his head to watch his captive struggle. He smiled, not so much at his counterpart, but at the situation itself. This wasn’t something he’d have come to enjoy on his own. It wasn’t even something he’d approved of when he first seen his Master do it.
“You can use a Sith’s passion against it, Padawan,” Azi’xoss couldn’t see his Master’s face underneath the hood, but he could hear the smile in the man’s voice. The human kicked his feet up onto the table separating them.
“Master?” More of a prompt to continue than a question. Azi’xoss looked up from the crystal he’d been meditating over, clearly waiting for a response.
“Interrupted you, did I?” His Master laughed, “It’s a good trick to know though. You know emotion can be used to cloud judgement, of course; if you become good enough at reading others, you can use theirs to direct them however you wish.” He raised a hand to the Twi’lek, sensing the upcoming objection, “Not that I’m suggesting you do that on a regular basis, but when you’re up against something that uses fear, passion, anger—emotion in general—as its source of strength, you’ll find you’re able to guide them exactly to where you want them if you’re careful.”
“I don’t—” began Azi’xoss, only to be silenced by his Master’s head shaking.
“Agree? Think it’s proper?” his Master chuckled and stretched his arms behind his head, “It isn’t. You’ll find, once you’re away from the away from Coruscant, once your training with me has finished, that very few things are done properly.”
The human leaned forward to grab his drink from the table, and finally put his feet back on the floor where they belonged, “Well, that’s not entirely true: Very few things done successfully are done properly. There are things you can and cannot change or influence, our code, their code, or no code; it isn’t even a matter of adaptability.”
He grabbed his cup and took a far too large gulp for what would be considered proper in terms of drinking tea,”It’s a matter of control. Not theirs, and not their lack of it, it’s a matter of yours. You stay in control of your actions and reactions, and you stay in control of the encounter. You understand?”
Azix’oss supressed a look of disapproval at the fact that his Master was trying to drink and talk at the same time; it always made him make odd slurping noises. Nonetheless, it wouldn’t do any good to complain about his Master’s table manners (or lack thereof).
Instead, he simply nodded, “I do, Master.”
“Just what the HELL are you staring at, Twi’lek?” spat the Sith, his question snapping Azi’xoss back to the present, “Either put me down, kill me, or take me to—whatever it is you take Sith you’ve captured to. This is stupid.”
“It is a bit, isn’t it?” he stated as he lowered himself, tucking his legs beneath him half kneeling, half sitting on the asteroid’s surface.
“One or more of those options might be on the table, Bees—was it Bees? Darth Bees?”
Azix’oss’ expression remained entirely neutral, but the spark of amusement that lit his green eyes did not escape the captive Sith, who snarled a rather profane statement in response. Even without the verbal confirmation, he certainly felt the spike in emotion. Unwittingly, his captive had simply handed over control of the entire situation, not that Azix’oss was about to point that out.
Maker, no, it wouldn’t be kind to gloat.
…at least not to his face.
“It’s alright, I’m terrible with names anyway.” He shrugged and dug around in the pockets of his robes, eventually pulling out a vibrant blue crystal, “We’ll decide which option I choose once you’ve finished with your tantrum and are a bit more calm and rational.”
Setting the crystal down in front of him, he gave the stuck Sith an absolutely brilliant, sharp-toothed smile, “I’ve got all the time in the Galaxy, Sith, and I’m very patient.”
That Bi’ev fellow from the open frequency finally decided he wanted to ‘come and see me’. Of course, he meant he wanted to, very likely, kill me.
I’m confident enough in my own skills to not fear him (and, really, if I die, it’s the will of the Force that I rejoin it), but I do have to admit that he’s a bit tougher than I’d figured. Fortunately, what he can damage, I can repair, and we appear to have fairly similar thresholds of tolerance.
He attacked me, as I expected he would, and I simply endured (and may have hit him in the face with a rock or two, purely by accident, of course) until I’d had enough of him. I suspect he was looking for a reaction other than calm out of me, and the more I refused to grant it, the more insistent he became.
He escaped my lifting of him several times, and all it seemed to do was irritate him, but eventually, I think he realized that I was not about to put him down until he could pretend to be a rational person again. During the time he spat insults and occasional lighting at me, I realized that it seems to take older Sith a very long time to settle down once they’re all worked up.
We actually had quite a nice chat about philosophy, the various codes and interpretations, and apprentices—or, in my case, my Padawan, while he was up there. I did eventually have to let him down; gets tiring to suspend someone like that and still deflect an attack now and then and I had no way to transport him safely or call for a transport.
The Sith isn’t stupid, he’d seen to that as part of the terms. I—hate to admit it, but I was surprised when he followed his own terms as well and didn’t appear to have any active communication channels available.
And, of course, he used his new found freedom to knock me down and incapacitate me. He could have killed me, but he walked away instead. Guess he just wanted the last ‘word’ in the fight.
I’d forgotten how unpleasant Force lighting is. I may take a few days off to recover.
My lekku are killing me.
Not literally, of course; they just feel horribly bruised and the Force can only heal so much at one time.
Elihu tends to grab them when he gets nervous or tired, and when he’s nervous he occasionally twists them or pulls on them rather hard. If it is a reaction that he’s going for, he doesn’t get it beyond a, “That hurts, please don’t do it.”
To his credit, he does stop if that’s the case, but, really, who tries to braid and tie off lekku?
Elihu decided that he wanted to go and try to find Sanderson.
On Nar Shaddaa.
We went with stipulations: He was not allowed to take weapons, not even a training sword, no alcohol, no spice, and he had to stay near me the entire time, mainly because I didn’t much want to try and chase that kid all over the Promenade.
Of course, the most obvious place to start was the Slippery Slopes. Elihu seemed to know a few of the Sith there, which isn’t surprising. The woman was just—irritating, but then, I suppose she was trying to get under my skin. The other man was decent enough conversation, despite Elihu trying to convince him to punch me in the face for reasons unknown.
Over at one of the side bars, a Sith and Jedi couple (evidently) were going on and on and ON about how they ‘needed to be more careful’ and ‘keep their relationship secret’ because nobody would ever approve. Seemed a bit dense of them to be discussing that loudly in a cantina of mixed company. I had thought about pointing that out, but decided it wouldn’t be worth the hassle; it seemed like they were not-so-subtly angling for attention anyway.
At one point, a group of Mandalorians came in to the cantina as well. Loud, obnoxious, drinking, but, really, that’s to be expected in a cantina. Elihu seemed to think they were talking about me when one of them started going on about someone in the room being a ‘flaming obvious homosexual’. I suppose they’re allowed to think what they wish; I had, and still have, no interest in associating with drunk Mandalorians, even in neutral space.
The first Sith woman Elihu questioned about Sanderson ended up taking four credits from Elihu to ‘distract me’ so he could run off. Her method of distraction was to lick her finger and stick it in my ear—not so much distracting as it was unhygeinic. Regardless, I knew Elihu planned on running off when she did that, as he’d verbatim said so. The kid didn’t run far, just out to the entryway, and tried hiding behind some Sith.
The Sith in question, at least, had a decent sense of humor about it. Mid-conversation there, a Darth who apparently knew Elihu (and the Sith to whom we were speaking; she called him Master) showed up. That—did not end well. Elihu darted behind me and started YANKING on my lekku repeating over and over that we had to leave immediately. I assume it was on account of the newly arrived Darth, even though he didn’t say a word to Elihu.
On the plus side, I suppose I don’t need to worry about Elihu trying to go to Nar Shaddaa on his own; he seemed properly terrified by that Darth.
I doubt it even registered to the group of Sith in the entryway that I was a Jedi. I’m certain that I appeared to be more of a harried nursemaid.
I fully stand by the statement I made to a small group of young Jedi in the cantina: If I had hair, it would likely be turning white or falling out in clumps. Possibly both.
It’s not a complaint, however; it’s never a good thing to become complacent, and the fact that Ehlial is so—not easy, but so innately skilled with anything he’s set to task, it’s made me a bit lazy, I think.
That said, I plan to spend my day resting and meditating.
Sith can be so strange. I get the feeling I’ve met the Sith equivalent to the louder, less—decent image projecting Jedi that seem to have made a name for themselves through their inappropriate behavior. With most, I just feel a constant, pervading sense of simmering anger mixed with fear.
With this one, it was almost chaos personified. Fear, anger, hatred, distrust, insanity—and it all blended together in what felt to me like noise. Just chaotic noise with no rhythm or reason to it.
I can’t honestly tell if Darth Greaves is legitimately insane, actually believes what he was saying, or if he was simply trying to throw me off balance with the majority of his comments and actions. My intuition tells me it’s mainly the former.
Of all the wild things he screamed at me, the ones that stick out the most are his belief that all Jedi are secretly sexual predators, all Sith are rapists who would love nothing more than to get their hands on a Jedi like myself, and that he knows all of this for a fact. Aside from assuring him that I was not these things, I think I stood in stunned silence while he ranted.
I know Sith tend to have—alternate views—on things, but really—this man, I suspect, is just plain mad.
Someone put it into his head that I was keeping Jude captive on my ship or, worse, was somehow behaving inappropriately toward or around him. That was cleared up quickly. It’s disgusting to think that he would be so convinced, based on the behaviors of a distinct (but loud) minority of poorly trained Jedi, that all Jedi would take advantage of a child. Canaan actually opened the conversation with accusations that, not only was I keeping his brother, Jude, hostage, that I was somehow molesting the boy.
What a repugnant thought. Jedi or not, it’s a repugnant thought; Jude is a child.
For a brief moment, Canaan appeared to be relatively normal—or stable, perhaps, once he came to the realization that I was not lying to him and not holding his sibling captive. We had a fleeting conversation on philosophy at one point.
That didn’t last.
I can’t rightly tell if corruption has wrecked his mind or if it was recked to begin with, but there is something wrong with that man beyond simply being Sith. At one point, he tried to order me to put one of my lekku in my mouth.
All that would accomplish would be to get saliva on the lekku in question, and there is no good reason to do that, esepcially on the order of a Sith. I’ve no idea what he was expecting to accomplish with that request. He said he wanted to “see what would happen”. I replied, “It would get wet.”
He then began rambling on about how he wanted to dye me blue, fit me with a shock collar, and keep me as a pet/nanny. By that point in the conversation, I’m not entirely convinced that he was aware I still existed. He seemed to be talking to things only he could see. Madness is interesting to see that close.
Thank the Force I insisted on meeting on Voss; insanity or no, he wasn’t about to jeopardize the Empire’s stake on the planet by attempting to capture, kill, or attack me, and I never had the intent to do any of that to him from the beginning. He wished to speak to me about Jude, and I agreed to meet him.
I took care to designate a meeting spot well away from any busy areas of the city, as his communication to me seemed full of more than a bit of ranting and raving; the Voss, and those visiting, do not need to be subjected to listening to a Sith shout.
He first demanded that I bring Jude to him. I refused. I will not force Jude to pick sides, as it were. When that demand failed, he simply asked that I let Jude know that his brother and—Kija? Something to that effect—that she missed him as well.
At any rate, I’m going in circles with this particular log; once the Sith finished his rambling about shock collars and ‘keeping’ me as a pet, he wandered off, still muttering to himself.
Things have been going well.
Admittedly, I’ve spent most of my time either on Tython or on my ship, but that’s a bit necessary; I don’t recover quite as quickly as I used to, after all.
I ran into Elihu and that Sith who was with him when he first met Ehlial. Can’t remember the Sith’s name for the life of me. Started with an N, had a few smatterings of G here and there.
Most interactions with Elihu seem to be standing watch while he ‘scraps’ (thankfully, away from crowds) with Sith. If nothing else, most Sith aren’t stupid enough to pull anything if they’re being watched and they’re not completely certain that they can’t eliminate all witnesses.
It’s all I can do to not continuously roll my eyes at that kid when he goes off on his spice-fueled tangents, but I manage; at the very least, I can be the sort of Jedi that he is convinced does not exist.
Ehlial is as well, not surprisingly so, but he’s still a Padawan.
(( Because re-reading Tumblr RP can be tricky with the way Tumblr structures things, I’ve gone ahead and put everything in order in regards to Azixoss, Ehlial, and our tweaking of the Jedi Knight story line to make it usable IC. ))
Ehlial could not move, nor make a sound, nor halt the inexorable marching of his feet toward the edge of the platform. Below him he could hear the whistle of air, the drop leading to air chutes that ultimately spit any debris out into the darkness of space. If he leapt, it meant certain death. Gloved hands grasped the bars of the railing that prevented people from simply falling off. With a short hop, he found himself teetering on the edge, precariously balanced.
A voice broke the stillness, cut through the groans of subdued Jedi scattered around the room like broken dolls. A voice that seethed and reverberated off the walls, echoing all around them. Only one Jedi remained standing, only one strong enough to withstand the Sith Lord’s power. This is who he addressed.
“See how I take your Padawan and make him mine. Surrender, Master Jedi. Surrender and I will spare his life.”
Azixoss deactivated his lightsaber, removing another sound from an already still room.
The Sith’s voice halted the Jedi’s footsteps. The Jedi spared one quick, passing glance at the room, taking note of where his comrades had fallen.
He had asked them not to come. In fact, he had ordered them not to follow, however, he did not hold the rank necessary to enforce it; they were, after all, all Masters. Azixoss’ assumption, when the small group of them were somehow already there and engaged by the time he and Ehlial had arrived, was that they were finally feeling a bit of guilt for using a seventeen year old Padawan as bait for a Sith. The Council would certainly be receiving a lengthy, sternly worded report on this.
Well, no matter; at least they were out of the way for the moment. Their current condition, while concerning, did not actually alarm Azixoss. The other Masters were not dead, they weren’t even badly injured, just put aside for the time being.
Keeping them that way had to be a drain on the Sith’s power. That thought, for the moment, Azixoss kept tightly to himself.
This Sith was powerful, no doubt, but reckless, and this?
This was little more than frantic flailing as the Lord saw whatever plans he had start to fall to pieces in front of him. Anger, fear and frustration radiated from the Sith; if Azixoss could sense it, he imagined it was almost overwhelming for Ehlial.
For everything the Sith conveyed, the Jedi was his opposite. Calm, resolute, and controlled. He could only hope that his Padawan would choose to focus on him instead of the Sith.
“Azixoss, Sith.” He offered a polite smile and a shallow bow. “Though, I’m certain, if you’re the one who’s been trying to get his hands on my Padawan, that you know that already.”
“I’m afraid I don’t have the benefit of your name, and I should very much like to know that so I don’t have to continually refer to you only as Sith. It seems a bit rude to do that, don’t you think?”
Crouching, Azixoss laid his lightsaber on the floor and, with one smooth, calm motion, nudged it with his foot, sending the weapon rolling a bit lazily toward the man holding his Padawan
“I would appreciate it if you would move Ehlial to the safer side of the guard rail; we are both aware, I think, that you don’t intend to kill him.”