My (Dark) Heart Will Go On

[Dmitri]

Geist Weiss still felt the glow of enjoyment he had obtained teasing Della Frey just the other day. It was so easy to hurt her feelings. She was one of his few long-term projects, and looked forward to seeing how the results would turn out. However, he was concerned that Della Frey had wandered so close to Sacul. He'd have to make sure to solidify his hold on Sacul. Reichtum and Ebar were competent, but not exactly trustworthy. He'd need to send some Sinners there. Sinners he'd get from his Skeith Centrality hideout. He'd use Redemption to transport them.

His plans were unexpectedly cut short, though, when Audroti called in, reporting having located a Sith Lord. As Redemption was an Imperial Star Destroyer, Geist couldn't exactly refuse, especially if a Sith Lord was involved. He was intrigued by who it could be. Having just come from Chiss Space where he had encountered Arch'elie'lia, his mind wandered to her twin, Arch'aza'cnuruodo, also known as Darth Vendis.

As the closest ship, the Star Destroyer took a detour to Epsilon Eridani. It took two hours, time Geist had spent reviewing files. In fact, he had located a mole on the ship, John Cordatus, no relation to the former Jedi Grandmaster. He had begun interrogation when the ship arrived. For courtesy's sake, he decided to pause his questioning and greet the Sith Lord, if at least to be ready if drastic measures were needed. Part of him wondered if this had been arranged, as to have him eliminate another traitor, like he had done with Darth Kayos and Darth Oseth. However, back then he had been able to get them by surprise. He was the surprised one here.

Especially when he learned who it was. Darth Vereor.

Geist waited in the hangar with an honor guard. They awaited Vereor's vessel to arrive.

 

[Rom]

All was quiet in the hanger of the Star Destroyer Redemption when a sleek shuttle made its slow sweeping entrance. It was a Firespray class Attack craft with bright blue and green paint on the hull. Visible on the side in gold lettering, the words "Light Sides Vengence" stood out starkly in the bright lighting that filled every corner of the hanger bay. Turning on its axis, the ship slowly fell into its redting position, cockpit pointing towards the roof and drive engines against the floor. The ramp slid down with a soft hiss, and from the blackness within the ship, a figure emerged.

Black scales peppered with shrapnel that tge being didnt seem to feel covered every visible inch of the creatures form. A cauterized slash down the side of his right bicep from a lucky strike. Tattered leather armor that appeared to be falling apart at the seams. Piercing red eyes immediately taking in the situation, movong too and fro as though the being was calculating the number of exits from.the large room, as well as identifying all potential threats.

This being was Darth Vereor, the Demon of Konstallen and former Warmaster of the Sith Imperium. But he was not the Vereor that Geist once knew. If one were to look closely they would see that the Barabel was aignificantly thinner than he had once been, the layer of fat beneath the scales that gave Barabels their deceptively large frames worn away by malnutrition and.long periods spent running across a planet or deep in hibernation trances. His frame was covered in scars, a large claw mark covering a significant portion of the side of his face. He stood lightly on his feet, like he was ready to bolt away at any moment. And in the Force, his power fluctuated wildly; either an overwhelming sea of Darkside Power, the levels of a newly trained acolyte, or something inbetween.

He had been gone for three long years, and it would only be noted by the careful observer that, whatever had happened in his long absence, it had taken its toll.

Moving down the ramp swiftly, Darth Vereor came to a halt infront of the Sith before him. Geist Weiss was well known to the reptilian.Sith Lord. Having been instrumental in protecting the Alchemist from a pack of murderous acolytes and a Crusader, the Barabel had.kept a watch on.the Sith, wanting to ensure his interference was not wasted. Alchemical skills aside, the man was the most cunning illusionist the Barabel had ever known. And while before his... Stranding in.the Jungle he regarded the reliance on mind tricks and illusions to be a sign of weakness, those same skills were the only reason he survived.

Nodding his head stiffly.in greeting, Vereor looked over the honor.guard dismissively before turning his gaze onto Geist, his blood red eyes hard like gems. "You seem to have come up in the world since we last met, Illusionist. Praytell, iz this the true Geist Weiss, or are you using your usual doppleganger technique?"

His voice echoed around the cavernous hanger, a cold malicious hiss that filled the hearts of the surrounding Imperials with fear. Darth Vereor had returned for the first time in seven years to the Military he used to command, and he allowed a small smile to appear on his face as he felt their growing fear, blood stained fangs glinting in.the light.

It was good to be back.

 

[Dmitri]

Darth Vereor had been Warmaster back when Darth Judicar had been in power. However, before Darth Judicar had been forced out of the throne by his apprentice Darth Exodeus, Darth Vereor had disappeared. No one was quite sure where he had gone. Most had been concerned Judicar, so investigations on Vereor had been sidelined. The only one who had been actively searching had been Darth Carnaj, who had gained his rank after Vereor left, though it had been revoked when Exodeus came to power, with the condition that Carnaj had to find Vereor (or at least his body) before he could become a real Sith Lord.

Darth Carnaj never found Vereor. Yet whatever hellhole Vereor had crawled out of, it had definitely taken its toll. The once proud muscular Barabel had been reduced to a starving slim Barabel. Vereor had gone to hell and back, with the evidence to show it.

Geist Weiss' last experience with Darth Vereor had been on Korriban, when a rival alchemist named Azool had tried to kill him. Vereor had saved his life, though bitterly. As such, he was slightly thrown off by the warmish greeting by Vereor.

"It is the real me," replied Geist Weiss. "I thought it only proper to greet you in person rather than a doppelganger." Normally, he'd keep that a secret, but this was a former Warmaster. He didn't want the Barabel testing whether he was an illusion or not with a lightsaber. "I have risen and I haven't. I've found myself a nice niche. I don't see a destiny of Sith Lordship, which is why I keep turning down the offer. Best to leave those who wish power to seek power. After all, many tend to become too public at that level. Some are powerful and can ward off threats. Some get cocky. I've already had to silence two Sith Lords. Traitors." He added the last so Vereor wouldn't feel as though he was next. "The Dark Council has suffered numerous changes. Not all of them good. Though with your return, maybe we'll get some more good ones again." He paused. "Of Darth Judicar's Dark Council, only you and Darth Silentius remain."

 

[Rom]

The Barabel nodded silently, his mind processing the short explanation the Sith Master had given him. In the end, it amounted to nothing. He had no fondness for the other Lords on the Black Council. If they had acted traitorously, then they deserved a traitors death. Nothing more, and nothing less. He did allow himself to acknowledge the wisdom of the Illusionists' choice. Like his preferred forms of Force Mastery, Geist Weiss was a cunning and shrewd weaver of shadow. He had the power to ascend; he chose not to. Sometimes Vereor himself wondered if he had made the correct choice in pursuing official power. On one hand, the title of Warmaster had given him unprecedented control over the militaristic future of the Empire. He could plan, direct, and engage in as many battles as he felt his troops were capable of winning, constantly bringing the fight to the retreating enemies doorstep. And yet... something about his time marooned on that planet seemed too perfect.

Lighting bolts, no matter how powerful, should not have been able to knock out his fighters' shields and dispersers. He had always assumed malfunction... but could it have been sabotage? A Sith Lord waiting in the wings to immediately take his position, a weakling who couldn't search him out and defeat him on his own. A cursory search through his archived mission reports would have revealed what sector of space he had been traveling through... and it was rumors aboard the Imperial Fueling Station that had led him towards that planet in the first place. Growling low in the back of his throat, the Barabel turned away from Weiss and slammed his fist into the wall, leaving a sizabledent in the durasteel from his force enhanced punch. There were questions that needed answering!

How long had he been gone? The cycle of monsoons on the planet had been rapid, well beyond that of the galactic standard year. What had truly happened with the War in his time away? Was the Empire really so close to victory? When he had left the War hadn't even begun! Taking a deep breath, the reptilian Sith struggled to calm himself, reigning in the maelstrom of power that emanated alongside his rage. It would not do to reveal to the Illusionist just how out of sorts he really was. Treachery was the way of the Sith... and Vereor had not returned from death just to die in his sleep with a saber through his heart.

Opening his red eyes, the Barabel let out a low sigh and turned to the Illusionist. "This one.... apologizez for the damage done. It has been far too long since this one had contact with anyone but Wraithz... and those beastz are not one to mind if you go around breaking infrastructure... How long haz this one been gone, Illusionist? What is happening with the War Effort? This one haz been so far removed from Galactic Events, and the Sightless One on Epsilon Eridani was only able to tell thiz one that the Sith were winning and that in the time thiz one had been gone, two new Longfangz emerged following Judicar. This one needz to have a clear picture of what haz happened." Weakness, how Vereor despised it. The simple act of admitting to one whom he had saved that he was confused and nearly helpless brought more shame down upon him than the Barabel had thought possible. Whirling around, the Barabel sniffed the air and began to walk, making a beckoning gesture with his tail blade towards Weiss, asking him to follow and talk. The Alchemist would recognize his own work in the light-weight plating that covered his tail and the long blade that tipped it, still in remarkable shape despite the caked on mud and gore.

As the two walked through the sterile halls of the Star Destroyer, Vereor couldn't contain a small groan of hunger from escaping his gut. Starvation did not suit the Sith Lord, and after a large meal he was going to have to go to the infirmary. Supplements, a day or three in the bacta pool, and then a period of meditation to heal his weakened frame. Then he would leave, and return to the War he had once led. But for now... the mess hall beckoned. Coming to a halt at the lift, Vereor gestured towards the panel as if to say 'Which floor do I go to too eat?' As he raised his arm however, the stitching holding his krayt dragon chest piece together finally snapped and crashed to the floor with a loud bang, nearly crushing a passing custodial droid. Eying the now useless armor on the floor at his feet, the Sith Lord sighed and levitated it into the nearest disposal chute. It had lasted far longer than the Barabel had any right to expect, but he would not cling to it with sentiment. A broken tool was a useless one, and he refused to keep one in his possession.

Scars covered his starvation racked frame, black scales stretched over corded muscle and bone. He truly looked a wreck, though a score of dead mercenaries and a dark Jedi Master on the Asteroid they were swiftly leaving behind proved that his strength had not deserted him. The Force could do many things for those who wielded it... and when combining great rage with even greater willpower, great and terrible things were sure to follow. Closing his eyes for a moment, Vereor weaved a simple illusion. To most of the soldiers and imperials walking by, it would appear that the shadows around the room had moved, coalescing around the half naked reptile and forming into a cloak; darker than space and shapeless like smoke. Turning to the Illusionist, who would doubtlessly be surprised at the use of an illusion from the former Warmaster, Vereor shrugged and said with a small smirk, "This one iz still a fan of your alchemical work... as you can see, this one still bearz the armor and blade you had crafted. What do you suppose the answer to a request for a commission would be?"

 

[Dmitri]

The revelations bequeathed by Geist Weiss had not all been pleasant. Geist suspected though that it was more to do than the deaths of Sith Lords. He was furious indeed, smashing into a wall. The Barabel appeared famished, but he still had some strength. The Barabel was starving. Not only for food, but for information.

"It's been about three years now," informed Geist Weiss. "War began when the Will of the Force was destroyed and Darth Exodeus forced Darth Judicar into hiding after a trap on Lehon." The last part might be new to Vereor, revelation that Judicar still lived; many people though the Dark Lord was dead, though there was no evidence of it. "Darth Exodeus declared war on the Galactic Alliance. We've won most of our battles. The only battle we've lost was at Empress Teta, which was more of a raid than an invasion. Exodeus left us and there was a small coup putting some noble in power, but Darth Bhalr killed him soon after. Eventually Exodeus' apprentice Andraste, whom he wed, returned and claimed she killed her husband and became Emperor. Arcturus Wolfgang took helm of the Dark Lord for himself though.

"The Jedi was plagued with unstable leadership for a while. Within the course of two years, they had about seven different Grandmasters. The latest one is the only one to manage to stay in power for a while. Only one of those Grandmasters were actually eliminated by Sith hands.

"The Mandalorians were removed from their territory for a while. They seemed like they would war with the Imperium, but blundering from the Galactic Alliance and a 'little help' from me led to the Mandalorians joining our side and warring with the Galactic Alliance. The Chiss Ascendancy were allied with the Mandalorians and declared war on the Galactic Alliance in response to the Alliance's declaration of war on the Mandalorians, to protect their allies. Right now the Imperium and Mandalorians are striking at the core while the Ascendancy is sweeping in from behind. I believe they're currently fighting at Endor, if memory serves."

Vereor's hunger for information was soon masked by the Barabel's hunger for food. He inquired about where he could eat. "I'll take you to the mess hall," offered Geist. Before they could advance, Vereor's armor fell off. It was amazing the tattered armor had managed to survive as long as it had. Before Geist could offer to try to repair it, the Sith Lord disposed of it.

Vereor's body showed evidence of wear and tear. Scars were everywhere, and his poor shape was much more obvious. He was given a new surprise, though, when Vereor used illusions to hide his nakedness. He had once criticized Geist for his usage of illusions. Apparently much had changed during his isolation.

"I have the materials here," said Geist Weiss. He pointed down the hall. "The mess hall's right there. I'll instruct the cooks to prepare anything you desire, if we have the ingredients. This ship travels, so it has some exotic ingredients, so feel free to be creative in your ordering. Just don't ask for gizka. We tried having some on board once; didn't go well. Well, having them live anyways."

Geist took his personal comlink off his wrist. It wasn't advanced, and not his normal one, but it was useful on Redemption. "Use that to contact me if you have any other questions. While you're eating, I'll begin work on your armor." He was eager to try to make new armor for the Barabel Sith Lord, though was slightly disappointed he wouldn't be returning to John Cordatus' interrogation anytime soon.

 

[Rom]

Vereor contenplated Weiss's words as he walked alone into the mess hall, the comlink being clenched in one clawed hand. Three years... Due to some traitorous Sith, he had missed out on three years of battle, the chance to meet the Jedi in combat and crush them before him. Hungry One bless this search... Someone would die for this. Embracing his rage and falling into the dark gaze of the Hungry One, Vereor turned his mind from vengence.. there was work to do.

The Mandalorians had joined the Empire's side of the war? This was excellent news.. The Mando'a were an honorable people, united not by race, but creed and code. Each of them a warrior worth five or more soldiers. The clans had always appealed to the reptilian Sith, their principles aligning with his formative years on Barab 1. He found himself admitting that he would enjoy fighting alongside them... Assuming they would tolerate a Darth in their prescense.

And the Jedi in disarray? Never before had an intelligence report brought him so much pleasure. This did't make victory certain.. but it certainly helps. And who knows... Perhaps one could be turned. The reptilian hissed in pleasure at the very thought. He would have to.consider the possibility for a later time; for now, he had walked into.the near empty hall, so lost in his thoughts that he had missed the entire walk.

Stepping around a scared looking ensign, Vereor walked towards the line and held up the personal comlink. "The Illusionist claimed you would make whatever this one requested. Do you have Bantha Steak and Corellian tuberz?" The cook nodded quickly, already shooing the service droids towards the grill; there was no way in the Corellian Hells he was going to cook for the menacing reptile. Let the droids take the blame if something went wrong. "Excellent, this one will take two orderz of each, rare, and a container of water."

Though the cook was terrified, he truly had nothing to fear. Vereor had long ago made it his policy to treat the average Imperial soldier with, if not dignity, than at least respect. He may enjoy the fear that his sheer prescense could cause, but not so long ago every Imperial military member was under his direct oversight. Nodding in appreciation, Vereor grabbed his tray and sat down at a table in the center of the Mess Hall.

The war would not end as quickly as many assumed. The capture of Coruscant would be irrelevant if even one true Jedi remains alive and supporting a rebellion. Palpatine learned that with the survival of just two, and the training of Luke Skywalker. The Jedi would have to be utterly wiped out before he would wver declare victory.

Vereor smirked; and what a pleasant thought that was.

Tapping the comm, Vereor unknowingly activated it as he muttered aloud, the sounds of ripping meat and cunning battlefield ploys leaking through to whoever might hear. One thing was certain; a thing like a three year isolation being constantly hunted hadnt changed Vereor's single minded focus on the War against the Jedi.

 

[Dmitri]

Geist Weiss left Darth Vereor to his desires, hoping he wouldn't have a mess to return to later. He departed for his laboratory and entered his workshop. The illusionist heard the moans of John Cordatus from the nearby interrogation room. The mole had been locked inside, with a shock collar to inhibit Force capabilities, though no Force usage from the man had been detected yet.

Geist Weiss immediately went to work on creating a cloak for the Sith Lord. He based it off the Sith Sinner Armor of his own creation. It didn't take long to modify it for Barabel usage. As he worked, he heard noises from his commlink. It sounded like something was chewing.

Please let that be steak or something, Geist thought.

Geist Weiss handed the cloak to a nearby droid. "Give that to Darth Vereor," instructed Geist. "Let him know that it is only a temporary attire until the armor is complete. Inform him that once he is done eating, allow him access to the baths." He knew his personal one would not be used, as it was in this wing, which was closed off, though there were still VIP bathes in the upper floors. "Also, turn off his commlink if you have the opportunity." With a flick of his hand, the protocol droid departed the laboratory with Vereor's new cloak.

Geist turned his attention towards armor. He mentally debated on how he should design the armor. Light and fast? Heavy and menacing? There were so many possibilities that it annoyed and thrilled the artist inside him at the same time. Ultimately, he decided to go for more heavy armor. He already had the materials, after all, since he was working on retrofitting the Imperial Commando powersuit.

Letting his mind tinker with ideas, he decided to borrow the boots from the Sinner Armor, which were magnetic and hid jets. Considering Sith Lords tended to fight in multiple types of battlefields and terrain, Geist based the core of the suit around a reinforced atmospheric body suit making up the first layer. It could keep out cold temperatures, vacuum, and has a layer of ballistuc gel to absorb impacts from long falls or powerful forced movement. Sealed and pressurized to survive in space, though air would only last a couple hours. Any more would require a larger area and make the balance awkward. The left gauntlet would be similar to the Sinner Armor, with a flamethrower and an electrifiable cable cord, accompanied by a built-in datapad. After his bad experience with hacking from Lain Derisma, he added a function in which the datapad would self-destruct if not accessed by the owner; he added in a back-door for himself. The right gauntlet would have a cycling apparatus that spins along the axis of the wrist to put the active item on the top. Wrist mounted mini rocket launcher that is slaved to the auto tracjing feature in the HUD. When it cycles, the other feature is a laser target marker that is slaved to Vereor's flagship turbolaser batteries. If it paints the target for 15 seconds and the activation phrase is spoken or code entered, it will bring an orbital bombardment down on a target. As he made that feature, he made a mental note to add that feature to his own armor.

The helmet he had to construct from scratch, as the typical helmet was ill-shaped for Barabel physiology. Using recorded footage of Vereor's arrival on Redemption to base measurements, the alchemist constructed a helmet. The helmet was sealable to the suit and was equipped with air scrubbers, allowing Vereor to use recycled air for up to 15 hours before aphxiating. It had a HUD with targetting features that link to the rocket launcher, giving him a visual/vocal interface with his datapad, and is shielded from EMP to prevent loss of communications. He stole a floodlamp from his Imperial Commando suit project.

As he finished eying the measurements, he realized he forgot about the tail. He cut out the necessary parts and then constructed armor for the tail. Using Sith alchemy, he fused the tail piece to the rest of the armor. He further used his alchemy to add some resistance to blasters and lightsabers, especially at the tip of the tail.

With the nearly completed armor, he stopped there. Glancing at the clock, he discovered two hours already had been consumed. "Time flies when you're having fun," he chuckled to himself. He left the armor alone and proceeded to check on John Cordatus. The prisoner was alive, but unconscious. He decided not to wake him up and instead learn of what the Barabel was up to. He departed his laboratory and went in search of Darth Vereor.

 

[Rom]

As Vereor idly picked a piece of meat out from between his fangs with his claw, he released a happy hiss of contentment. This was his first true meal since he had returned from the Unknown Regions -- he didn't count the slop he had eaten on Epsilon Eridani as real food -- and it was without a doubt the best meal he had ever tasted. The seasoning of the steak was superb, the texture of the tubers flawless; crunchy and juicy, just as they should be made. 'If this one had access to his accounts, that cook would receive his yearly salary as a tip. Once this one has taken a command ship again, this one will be requesting the cooks transfer... Surely the Illusionist wouldnt mind?' Still lost in thought and the haze of a delicious meal, Vereor didn't realize he was being approached until a cold metal hand clasped onto his wrist, immobile fingers reaching for the commlink beneath his claws.

The Barabel acted without hesitation, using his large tail to push himself into a backwards roll to get behind his assailant, he reached out with the Force for his lightsaber and swung his arm out in a wide arc, the saber activating with a muted *snap-hiss* the second his palm grasped the curved dragon fang. A solid red bar of plasma cleaved through the center of the dark figure who let out a warbling cry of protest as it fell in two pieces. Still operating on automatic, the Sith Lord moved in for the kill, his saber angled low to bury the tip into his attackers heart before it's upraised arms and protests caught his attention. A shiny green protocol droid lay at his feet, wires sparking at the midsection where it had been bisected, a tangled cloak wrapped around its arms.

"Please my Lord, stop! I was only doing as Master Weiss directed! I was sent to deliver this cloak to you and to turn off the commlink; I believe the chewing distracted him from his work on your armor. He also wanted me to direct you to the nearest lavatory, and to pass on that you were welcome to clean up while you waited. Please do not attack me again sir, I'm programmed for etiquette, not destruction!"

Vereor blinked owlishly, one clawed hand reaching up to scratch the back of his scaled head. Perhaps he was still a little tense... though he would never admit it, the Jungle had left him with an edge; a constant preparedness that bordered on obsession to be ready for any attack. Shaking his head to push away the memories, Vereor simply deactivated his lightsaber and grabbed for the cloak, wrapping the voluminous soft cloth around his thin frame before lifting the top half of the droid with the force, leaving the other half behind as he walked towards the door.

"Come along then, droid. Direct this one to the facilitiez.... and might this one recommend that you take thiz as a lesson? Never poke a predator in the midst of a meal."

Ignoring the protests of the protocol droid, Vereor followed his instructions towards one of the "VIP Quarters" and entered the room, narrowing his eyes in disgust at the plush carpeting and large bed with amenities covering every spare inch of the well furnished apartment. Such a waste... this space could easily be converted into a strategic war room and it was being used to cater towards diplomats and bureaucrats.... oh how he hated the bureaucrats. They should be forced to sleep in the garbage disposal units, and be grateful that they weren't ejected from the nearest airlock. But it wasn't his place to question how his host kept his ship... he may not have been much for etiquette, but he could at least appreciate a little respect towards the rules of hospitality. Dismissing the rest of the apartment, Vereor quickly made his way towards the bathroom. A pristine white basin the size of a small pool greeted him, and the Sith Lord had to struggle to contain a wide grin.

Dropping the droid in a corner and ignoring his cries of "why me?!", Vereor quickly toyed with the wall panel until the large basin began to fill with hot clear water, clouds of steam quickly beginning to fill the bathroom. Divesting himself of his cloak, the reptilian Sith slipped into the bath and immediately relaxed into the water, sinking down until only his eyes and snout remained above the water. This was good. Sinking to the bottom of the tub, Vereor began to slowly move his body in a serpentine fashion, feeling clods of dried mud and blood slowly slipping out from between his overlapping keratin scales. Soon the once clear water began to turn brown as the Sith Lord got himself clean for the first time in three years.

Rising from the brown depths, Vereor hit a button to cycle the water, relaxing as the dirt filled water went down the drain and was quickly replaced by steaming clear water once again. Leaning back against the wall, Vereor idly glanced at the droid and said in a sibilant hiss, "Droid... sing me a song." The droid began to protest immediately, insisting that it was not programmed for that function, but a low growl silenced him mid sentence. Letting out a suffering sigh from his vocabulator, the green droid propped himself up higher against the wall and began to sing what was, in his view, a particularly rousing song.

When Weiss entered an hour later, he would find the droid pinned to the wall by two lightsabers as the Sith Lord silently glared at the wall from his position in the tub, before being asked "Was it something I said?"

 

[Dmitri]

Geist Weiss consulted his ship's droid-brain to locate Darth Vereor. He was, as Geist had suspected, was at the suite. Arriving at the suite, he courteously knocked on the door to receive permission to enter. Inside, he found the protocol droid he had sent pinned to the wall by lightsabers.

"What's sad is that's not the worse a guest has done to that droid," commented Geist. Geist did not proceed further into the suite, as to allow the Barabel privacy. "I hope the commodities are to your liking. This ship is normally served for transportation of VIP personnel or Jedi who are considering turning to the Dark Side. I've found that by emersing the vulnerable Jedi to a swarm of wealth, it has a tendancy to awaken the greed inside of them, making them more susceptible to transformation."

 

[Rom]

Vereor emerged from the bathroom, clad in the simple black cloak with his tail armor/blade combo buckled into place, and leveled a glare at the droid before summoning his lightsabers back to him, depositing them on the bandolier beneath his cloak. "This one will have to rectify that. Blasted droid waz singing a truly horrible song. Forget torturing Jedi for information, just have your droid sing for a few minutez and this one imaginez the Jedi will sell their own motherz just to get it to stop."

Glancing around the apartment in poorly disguised distaste, Vereor slowly nodded in understanding at the Illusionists' explanation. It would make sense to appeal to some Jedis basic nature to get them to cooperate, but it still did not sit right with the Barabel. He was extremely uncomfortable surrounded by such refinery. "This one doez appreciate your hospitality, Illusionist, but perhapz you have some other... more spartan quarters this one could occupy until we return to Bastion? The room iz a little too... fine for this onez tastez."

The Barabel did not act deferential; he merely acknowledged that he was on Weiss' own ship and would not supersede his judgement while on the Illusionists home field. Tilting his head to the side in thought, Vereor allowed a flash of fangs to show in a wide grin.

"Iz this one to assume by your presence that the armor creation is going smoothly?"

 

[Dmitri]

Vereor's lack of hygiene these past years was evident by the obvious transformation in the Barabel's transformation. His skin was more clear, more vibrant than it had been only hours ago. The mud and blood had been shed, banished to the sewers. The cloak Geist Weiss had given the Sith Lord hugged the Barabel, giving him the appearance of a man ready to reenter society.

Geist was slightly vexed about the droid. It could easily have just been reprogrammed. Destruction had not been necessary, but he decided not to make a point out of it. The man had been in hell for years. A singing droid was not what he would have desired. He instead tried to make light of it, "I guess I'll have him transferred to the interrogation room. He can interrogate the mole I found recently for me then."

The illusionist understood where Vereor was coming from in regards to living quarters. He preferred the more basic of rooms. More 'spartan'. "I have a couple rooms like that for my apprentices. Vhalanestilliegan Crewellunstestry recently left for Endor, so his room is free. He's the type who prefers little around him, so that he has more room to train and not be distracted by the comforts of luxury. Will that work?" He didn't react towards the comment about the armor. Indeed, it was going well, but would not be presented until after the Sith Lord had meet with Arcturus Wolfgang or the Dark Council. He nodded and said, "Indeed. The armor will be ready after your meeting with the Sith. I'm certain you'll wish to meet with them right away, so I've taken the courtesy of informing them of your arrival. The Dark Lord awaits your meeting." Glancing slightly at the droid, "If you need any other commodities, let me or my staff know."

 

[Rom]

Nodding in agreement with the Illusionist, Vereor made sure that he had all of his weapons and useful tools with him. He did not expect that he would be returning to this room. "This one iz most appreciative of your offer, Lord Weiss..." Here the reptilian Sith seemed to hesitate, his eyes peering curiously at the Alchemist before him. "This one still rememberz you from all those yearz ago on Korriban. You were arrogant at times, constantly attempting to curry favor. And yet, you have asked nothing of this one, despite the fact that you have offered rest, food, healing, and clothing... This one approvez of the change in you, Illusionist." Reaching out a clawed hand, his intent was clearly to shake the hand of the Illusion Master. "This one thankz you for the aid you have provided, and should you ever need it, this one will alwayz respond to any request for assistance."

Clearing his throat, clearly looking uncomfortable with his previous words, the Sith Lord prepared to leave the room. "This one will instead be in the Medbay if you are in need of him. It may prove prudent to spend the rest of the journey to Bastion recovering in a bacta tank with a nutrient infusion... Inform me when we arrive at Bastion, and after the meeting with the Dark Lord, this one will return to claim the armor you have crafted."

 

[Dmitri]

Geist bowed slightly. "Indeed," he replied. "My encounter with you those years ago taught me a valuable lesson. I've since learned to create a niche for myself rather than be dependent on the pleasure of others. Favor from others only gets you so far, as I learned painfully. Now it tends to be my favor people seek. Use opportunities, when possible. The alchemist I fought on Korriban vanished a month later. People assume it was me. You'd be surprised how easy it is to manipulate public opinion not by lies, but absence of response. Imagination can get the better of people." He decided not to comment on Vereor's offer. Better to saver it for later.

Maybe it was embarrassment, but the Barabel sought the Medbay's comfort. He did nothing to delay Vereor's mission except provide instructions on how to get there. Afterwards, he returned to his laboratory for the remainder of the trip. Cordatus was still asleep, so instead he worked on the PrimeCore-X4, a power core for armor, except he had modified it to contain a thermal detonator charge hidden inside, though would appear (and function) as a secondary power source. With a remote command, it could be detonated.

Glancing at Vereor's armor, he considered if he should place that on there. Generally it was best to be prepared. However, as he stood up to do so, he stopped himself. No, he decided. You saved my life on Korriban when it was at risk. I'll return the favor and not put your life at risk.