Ask Anger like Wildfire

[Renfry]

OOC: Death Enabled​

Darth Andruil had heard about the party that was taking place in the palace despite the fact that she had no intention of attending. She was on Taris to inspect the Taris Academy when the news had reached her of what had happened last night.

To say that she was furious was an understatement. This "Wildfire" that had started to crawl its way out of Hutt Space was poison plain and simple. Reports from top Imperial scientists pointed to the likelihood that the substance was somehow connected to "unnatural" alchemical manipulation, but attempts thus far to learn more had been fruitless. She wanted it eradicated from the Empire, and the discovery that one of her Sith Lords - one of her alchemists - was peddling the substance to the next generation of the Sith had been grounds for an immediate summons.

She didn't take this meeting in an office, but rather a corner of the palace that had been isolated. No longer pregnant, she enjoyed being back on her feet, and she was unhappy enough about this that she wanted to be able to move. To clear her head. To look at the artwork. To not be stuck in a chair or behind a desk any longer.

The entire room was simmering with darkness long before Veles would arrive. The Empress's meditations had left a scent in the air that very much spoke to her displeasure regarding the current situation. In the hours since the incident, investigation had been placed at the absolute top of the priority list and she already had preliminary reports from the Peacekeepers and the Inquisitorius each with their own recommendations regarding the situation.

Now, she would hear what Veles had to say for himself.

 

[Veles]

A thin trail of smoke lifted itself upward, twirling smoothly before dissipating as it neared the durasteel ceiling. His eyes flicked away from the gas and down at the caf table in the center of the quarters, at the vial of neon purple liquid haphazardly laying on its side next to a mug that said "STRONG AS A RANCOR, WISE AS A WITCH" that he'd bought on a space station on the way to Dathomir with Altair. It had only been weeks, and the thought made him grit his teeth and ball his fists as he felt the feelings resurging.

Veles rose from his seat, stepping around the various materials, roots, leaves, trinkets, and other ingredients that he had been experimenting with for hours on end in an effort to find the antidote. He was close, he could feel it, and after this small interruption, maybe he would return with the clarity necessary to put all the pieces together. He stopped in front of the caf table.

"Urk--" Drops of purple liquid erupted from between his pursed lips, running down his chin and settling along the side of his collarbone. His head was pounding, his movements weak and sluggish. He'd thought he could brave it until he finished the antidote.

He grabbed the vial with a bandaged hand, tore the cap off, and poured the liquid into the caf in the mug. Then, he drank the entire thing in one gulp. Immediately, satisfaction crept in, pleasure coursing through his body. But it didn't reach his mind, because he despised the feeling, hated the artificial happiness that he had once sought out. It reminded him of his failure, of the way he had betrayed Altair's trust. And Cairo...The two had been so excited by what they perceived as a victory that signaled a golden era for them.

He'd thought wrong. Oh, so very wrong.

---

It had not even been 24 hours and already, there were things that had been set in motion that he could not stop no matter what he did. He was in a race against time in so many more ways than one, and coupled with the sheer amount of scorn that he had brought down onto himself, and the symptoms of withdrawal had all united into an amalgamation of pure despair. It burned in his chest like an eternal torch, tugged at the corners of his consciousness, threatening to consume him.

He strode down the halls of the Imperial Palace on Taris where only hours ago he had watched his entire world crash down before his very eyes. On the way, he spotted the door to the banquet hall and he stopped for a moment. He simply stood there, staring at the door as though Altair and Cairo would walk outside, sober and healthy. Then, he sighed and pressed forth, cloak swishing at his feet. His ring thrummed with power on his finger, the ring that could protect him from fire or electricity, the one he had failed to use last night in his inebriated state. He didn't expect to get into a physical altercation with the Empress, but even if they did, at least it prevented him from being burned to death by flame. That would be a painful way to go.

His helmet was on for the first time in months, and his face set behind it. He'd be showing no weakness today, not like he had last night. The conflict within him could be felt by those around him and it hung heavy in the air, but that was to be expected.

He didn't fear death nor imprisonment, because he felt he had already died inside.

Veles stopped in front of the double doors, feeling the Empress' aura minutes before he'd even reached them. He inhaled deeply, held the breath, then exhaled.

He strode through the doors and into the chamber, falling to a kneel when he was several meters away from her.

"Your Highness."

@Phoenix

 

[Renfry]

Andruil's fingers traced over the carving in the pillars. Artistic representations of famous Sith, great moments in history, and the rise of the Empire. Some even depicted her own rise, and she wondered how long this Empire would last if its next wave of Acolytes were stripped of the Force and killed by this drug. It was ingenious of the Syndicate, really. Years ago they had put a bounty on lightsabers, but why face an enemy in combat when you could force them to rot from the inside out.

She could sense Veles's approach long before he made it into the room, and she didn't turn to look at him as he came in and kneeled. She let the Shadow tell her everything she needed to know. She didn't bother asking for consent to sense his thoughts. They were far more trustworthy than the words of the mouth. People often manipulated the truth, but it was very difficult to guard one's thoughts.

She could sense... regret? Anger, though at what it wasn't clear. She also sensed something akin to desperation. A need to find answers that were ever-elusive.

She didn't tell him to rise when she finally turned to look at him. His face was masked, and she wondered if it was to keep from showing signs of withdrawal or intoxication.

What were you thinking giving a Force-severing drug to the next generation of Sith? she asked, her voice cold and hard. There was no friendly greeting or kindness as there had been at their last meeting.

@vamp

 

[Veles]

He'd hoped that the next time they saw each other, it would be for him to report some victories. The Empress said nothing, but probed into his mind immediately, and it was like a shock of cold water to the entire body. His face twitched a little because the sudden intrusion had not been gentle, but said nothing.

When she withdrew, he craned his head up to look at her. And when she spoke, it was exactly what he thought she'd say.

"I did not know, Your Highness," If she delved into his mind, she would see that he wasn't lying. He'd made a stupid mistake, but it wasn't out of malice. And she would see what he felt about Altair and Cairo, feelings so deep that not even he could think of.

"I made a mistake. I admit it. I admit that due to my irresponsible and downright reckless behavior, I've jeopardized the lives of so many Sith." There was a tense silence as the words sunk in. "But I am working on an antidote, and I am close to finishing it. I'm going to fix this."

@Phoenix

 

[Renfry]

Her eyes locked on him piercingly as he spoke, weighing what he said, and deciding what to make of it. She didn't sense a lie in him, but ignorance was no excuse.

Your plea is ignorance, then? You're a Sith Lord and an arcanist on top of that, it's your job to know. And to think, she said bitingly. She had had high hopes for him since they first met on Dathomir, but this was detrimental to his resume.

That substance is altered with alchemy. Are you involved in its production? Or taught anyone anything similar? she asked him bluntly. It seemed unlikely that he was involved in it directly, but that didn't mean he wasn't involved indirectly. Perhaps it was a coincidence that he - an alchemist - was the one handing it out, but she didn't believe in coincidences.

His mention of an antidote was at least something positive, but with only a few hours since the incident, she was doubtful as to the progress that had been made. It was likely just something to make an attempt to cover up his sins.

And you're using it as well, she said, not totally clear if it was a question or a statement. A Sith Lord on track to strip himself of the Force entirely. It was entirely unfitting.

I have already received two preliminary reports from the ISB. One makes a recommendation for execution on the grounds of treason, she told him. Her hand for the briefest moment drifted closer to her lightsaber before passing by and coming to rest on her hip instead. She watched him closely through the whole movement. She made no mention of the other reports recommendation for the time being.

Are you even capable enough to make an antidote if you're taking the drug yourself? she asked, questioning his ability to make amends given his current state.

@vamp

 

[Veles]

Every word hit like a jackhammer on his psyche as she said out loud exactly what he had spent the past night agonizing over. He grinded his teeth slowly as she spoke, saying nothing as she berated him for his ignorance.

The worst part about it--the part that made this all so, so much more terrible--was that she was right. He couldn't deny that, and the only recourse was forgiveness, which could only be attained by laying his very soul bare at her feet in the hope that perhaps, if she's feeling benevolent at the moment, she might consider it. So indeed, he replied nothing to her first sentence, an uncomfortable falling over them as the last of her words echoed in the room, driving themselves into his chest like a white-hot poker.

”No. It came to my possession not too long ago, and this was the first time I tried it.” Stupid. It was terrible saying it, because it sounded awful. ”The initial plan was to reverse-engineer it and try to tweak the formula, because the only thing I had heard was that it increased Force sensitivity during the high.”

And truth be told, his intentions--from the plans with Cairo on Mataou to when he threw a vial to a stranger--were golden. With what he’d heard in mind, he’d assumed this was some sort of incredible new drug that would revolutionize both warfare and partying. The decision to do wildfire at the party had come last minute, a flicker of temptation through his mind as he gave his quarters one last look-over to make sure he hadn't forgotten anything. But of course, she'd know this because she saw it when she delved into his mind. She saw through his eyes as they fell on the purple liquid, felt his indecision and thought process, then the excitement that followed at the thought of the good time that he’d have with his apprentice.

”A substance that, when consumed, emboldens Forceful beings would be revolutionary. However, there is scarce information about wildfire from a Forceful point of view, and to those who are not gifted, it is no more addictive than any normal drug, just a little over spice.” It was a fairly new substance that had just hit the market, and it made sense that its side effects would not be well-documented on Forceful beings, because the last thing an addict who is actively losing their Force connection cares about is documenting the entire affair.

”Yes,” he admitted, almost choking the word out but getting it out legibly with a bit of spontaneous effort. ”It appears that even one use is enough to induce heavy withdrawal symptoms once the high wears off.”

The possibility of losing his connection to the Force was a looming behemoth that hung over his subconscious with horrifying constancy. The Force was everything to him. It was his life’s work. It was his first friend, a thing that brought him peace when he needed it and rage when he wanted it. Without the Force, he was no one. If he lost his connection, his ability to wield the Shadow and perform rituals, his life was over. He tried to avoid thinking about that. The antidote would work. He knew it. He only needed a few days, just some time to find a way to synthesize the right amount of ro hypa venom with the lilac.

Every twitch, every breath she made he watched, his eyes locked on the Empress. His heart skipped a beat when her hand moved, aware of what that insinuated. Execution, as much as he hated to say it, would not be an unfair sentence. She didn't mention the other report, and his mind trailed off for a moment as he wondered whether it was more brutal or better than execution.

”Yes, my Lady,” he insisted, glad for the conversation to actually reach a point where he could say more than “I don't know” and “It was a mistake.” ”It also means that there is no need for any test subject. Within a few days, I will dedicate every waking moment to the search of the antidote, and once it is stable and tested, I will ensure those that were put in harm’s way will be cured.” And then, of course, the formula will be passed along to the Empire’s brightest scientists, so that they may get to work and begin the mass production of the antidote. It would be a monumental thing, and likely one of the only things he’d done in his life that didn't hurt someone, but actually improved their life. Perhaps it would make him feel like less of a stain on the fabric of the Galaxy.

@Phoenix

 

[Renfry]

She noted his statement that he could test it on himself. He wasn't wrong, and she could sense the distress he felt over his current situation. If he couldn't find the answers, he would be thoroughly punished without her having to lift a finger. Wildfire would utterly destroy him, which meant he would be incredibly motivated to find the answers. In its own way, that was a good thing. It would motivate him better than any threat from her.

Her eyes locked on him for several moments more as she thought about his penalty. There seemed to be genuine regret and repentance, but the matter remained that what he did - even if it was unintentional - placed the Empire in incredible danger. It could have been much worse, and it still might get worse from here.

I'm holding you personally responsible for Wildfire in this Empire, she said after a long moment. Hunt it down, kill your supplier, cut off its ability to ship, and ensure that every Sith who has taken it undergoes detox until the antidote is finished, she said. It would be no easy task to get those individuals through this - to get himself through this - but this wasn't about the easy thing.

In this capacity, you will have the authority and resources necessary, she said, pulling out a datapad to issue the proper communications to the proper managers about this and about what she was going to say next.

Outside of that task, your actions were not befitting of a Sith Lord. Effective immediately, you are stripped of your Lordship. This will not be up for reevaluation until your task is complete, Champion Veles, she said. And that reevaluation was no guarantee. He showed a great deal of promise, but now she was wondering if he had the maturity for the responsibility he had been given. Shadow willing, he wouldn't make such a mistake again.

For both our sakes, I hope this matter is resolved quickly.

@vamp

 

[Veles]

There was a silence as he finished, and he kept his head pointing toward her. His breathing was surprisingly steady, though his heart was pounding, a result of both the Empress' presence and the circumstances at hand. As she began to speak, he braced himself.

Truth be told, he was personally responsible. Maybe Cairo had carried some of the product, but Veles was the one that should have known better, the one that should keep the Acolytes and Champions in line. He'd shirked his duties and acted more immature than an Acolyte, and it had lead to disastrous consequences. His mind flicked to Xendor the Hutt as she mentioned the supplier, and for a moment, a flash of hate passed through him as he thought of what was to follow for the slug.

Then his mind went to Altair, Cairo, and that Acolyte he'd sold to last night. Thankfully few people, and he suspected that they would not be opposed to receiving help with the withdrawal symptoms. He doubted they'd been able to source any new product, but if they did, that only meant one more lead to go after. He didn't know if he could get himself through this, but he knew that he could get Altair and Cairo through it. Regardless, none of what she had said so far was particularly outrageous or drastic, which meant that it was yet to come.

It still caught him off-guard, cutting short his breath as he inhaled, nearly choking on the oxygen. He could feel the blood rushing in his ears, could feel it pump up to his face, his chest nearly bursting. His body shifted ever so slightly, his posture much more rigid. He'd expected it, but hearing it was a completely different thing. It tore at him and would continue to, but there was no time to wallow in self pity. The rank meant nothing if he failed.

"Yes, your Highness." His voice was hard, perhaps a bit cold but harboring no emotion. He may as well have been a droid. "If that is all, I suppose I should get to work." He'd wait, of course, until she approved, after which he'd stand from the kneeling position. If there was anything else to discuss—though he doubted she gave a womprat's shit regarding the status of Dagobah or Korriban—he would, naturally, remain where he was.

@Phoenix

 

[Renfry]

He accepted his penalty without a word of argument, and to his credit she had expected nothing less. She was sure he had been expecting it or worse when he came here, but he lived up to taking responsibility for his actions.

That is all. You have your work cut out for you, and I'll expect regular reports, she said. And with that it was done. She watched him rise and leave, feeling the emotions that still flowed through him. She was still frowning as he left, but she was at least satisfied that this misstep hadn't been treason. Putting down another Sith Lord wasn't on her preference. Well, not Sith Lord anymore.

She slipped the datapad away, let out a heavy sigh, and shook her head. Time would tell how the Shadow chose to have this unravel, but she hoped the issues of Wildfire wouldn't cripple the Empire from the inside out.

She turned back to inspecting the artwork, but her mind was far too distracted. Her hand clenched at her side and one of the paintings cracked under the strain of the Shadow, shattering into a dozen pieces.

There would be no pleasure from art right now. Without further delay, she turned and left the room, heading to put out the next fire in the Empire.

@vamp //Thread