Of Sith & Prideful Boasting

[Slamdingo]

[fancybox2]--------------

--------------

Grand Moff Darth Solum is seeking capable and skilled individuals from among the ranks of the Sacred Band to serve in her retinue as warriors and commanders. Those who think they are capable of meeting her requirements have come to the frigid world of Rhen Var to see if they can prove themselves to the Grand Moff. While he did not come to Rhen Var with the express purpose of appealing to her interests, Brother Essja Dreytila of the Sacred Band has found himself arriving at the planet on an otherwise routine resupply stop at the perfect time. The perfect time to be overheard, that is . . .

OOC: Participants are @Prudence and @Slamdingo. Contact either participant or Sith leadership if you wish to participate in some manner.

[/fancybox2]​

As the Destiny coasted through the open sky, its pilot looked up to the control panels overhead to take note of the indicator lights he'd noticed clicking on. Really nothing was out of the ordinary as even a cursory glance let him know it was just the indicators to let him know he was under the full effects of atmospheric flight. As if all the clouds, blue sky, and snowy mountains wouldn't let him know he wasn't in the vacuum of space. Coming up from behind his pilot's chair, M6-F00 came rolling across the flight deck of the freighter. 'Her' eyestalk rose up near him to double-check the instruments before she began squawking at him. It was a whole string of droidspeak that would probably sound like a nagging mother hen even if somebody listening didn't know what was being said. It drew a tired sigh from the Jedi hunter.

"I know, Foo, I know. I plan to fuel up while we're there." He didn't even look to her as he pawed around in one of the console compartments to retrieve a horribly battered carton of cigarettes, while she continued to beep and squawk at him, "How should I know how we're doing for medical supplies? I'm busy flying this old girl so we don't smack into the nearest kriffing mountain. I asked you to run the inventory for when we touch down to resupply." and more and more she went on as he looked away from the controls to light up his cigarette. "Then go fraggin' check. Its what I pay you for, isn't it?" She focused her telescoping photoreceptor on him and let out a low and accusatory sound, "Of course I haven't paid you yet. You're a quartermaster who's asking me what our stocks are." He laughed as 'she' gave an affirmative beep and turned to head back through the ship to the small medical bay on board. Meanwhile Essja turned his attention to the plotted approach vector he'd been given.

The touch down was under a clear sky, on a calm day, and with almost nothing to speak of for wind. And even though the base in question was a focal point for Sith activity on the planet, they'd found him a landing pad with nothing in the ones at either side of it. So he was able to nose up, kill his throttle, and ease down onto the landing pad at the careful guidance of the landing control tower of the spaceport with nary any issues. As he burned through and discarded his first cigarette in favor of a fresh second, Essja made his way to leave the ship, "Remember, Foo. If anybody tries to take our old girl - shoot 'em."

She beeped and squawked distressingly.

He called back over his shoulder, "Then shoot 'em politely!"

The fellow on the ground team running a fuel line up gave him a funny look as he passed.

Of course it was on his way to fetch a stiff drink while he waited that he noticed the sounds of - rather pitched fighting coming from a training room. It was loud enough to draw his attention and push the need for a good drink to the back of his mind for later. Slipping in he found himself in a somewhat crowded room. Around the whole of the room stood a medley of Brothers and Sisters of the Band who could be recognized by dark temperaments, armored outfits, and battle scars. And Sith, who could be recognized by all of the previous, in addition to pale skin, and lightsabers at their hips. And in the center it seemed as if they were watching . . . a Sith and a Sister of the SBZ going against one another in hand-to-hand combat. The Sith seemed to have a training saber when it met the Sister's arm and she gave an angry cry of pain.

He found a spot among the gathered crowd where he could best watch the fight.

Just as the Sith fighting unleashed a flurry of blows to the Sister's chest and about the head.

She screamed, swore, and soon went silent as she hit the deck unconscious.

Medics were quick to emerge from the side-lines to tend to her.

With his cigarette still between his lips, he scoffed, "Kriffing awful. Anybody decent should be able to hold their own against some jumped up space wizard with a glow stick."

 

[Prudence]

Standing near the arena, leaning up against the wall, was a tall slender woman. Darkness seemed to exude from the woman, who was simply dressed in her combat armor, sans the helmet, and a long flowing black robe. Her brown hair spilled over her shoulders, framing her pale and face. The woman was quite beautiful, but the laugh lines that adorned her cheeks were painfully absent of a smile, and her eyes were hard and filled with grief.

She had been watching the fight with mild interest. One of her many sith was going up against one of Ragorik's sisters. There was a bit of rivalry between the Sacred Band & the Sith, and many of the Sacred Band warriors had stifled at being put under one of the Dark Lord's former Darths. Solum's sith defeated the Sister, leaving the poor girl completely unconscious and sending medics to treat her.

From nearby a more mouthy member of the 'Band spoke up, calling the Sith 'jumped up space wizards with glow sticks'

Solum turned to face him, her eyes locked on him and a predatory smile on her face,

"Would you feel like putting your money where your mouth is, Brother Dreytila?"

 

[Slamdingo]

Even for as comparatively young as he was, Essja had seen some interesting things. Sun rises casting down into a cave full of crystals, ships in low orbit as they came to burn up their engines, and Twi'lek women who didn't know how to dance well. But he had never seen the sudden deathly silence that fell over that crowd when someone at the back spoke up and addressed him - by name - for his offhanded comment. As he turned to look over his shoulders he could see those around him beginning to part. They weren't fearful in that soft-skinned way that civilians and bystanders got fearful in a moment of panic, but these men and women still showed it in their faces if you knew where to look. Essja did, and he couldn't help but wonder on the caliber and station of who he had apparently insulted until he could see her clearly.

Five and half feet tall meant that the Jedi hunter had closing in on half a foot over her, and she looked like she'd come in at 150lbs if she was soaking wet. But she also looked like she had the death of whole worlds in those eyes of hers and lips were into a smile that looked less like she was actually happy, and more like she wanted to have his kidneys for a meal. Of course she was pleasing to the eye if a man could overlook, or find some appeal, in an aura of dark and horribly casual violence but even then Essja would have to be an idiot not to recognize just who he was looking at. Darth Solum - Grand Moff of the Moff Council and Dark Lord of the Sith Brotherhood. She could proudly claim that she was deadly enough to forgo the mockery of being a jumped-up wizard and had proven the lethal nature of those glow-sticks in the proper hands.

"Well punt me in the choobies and call me a Senator." He breathed as he eyed her. She was in her armor - much the same as everybody else present to include Essja - and had one of those long-flowing black robes the Sith so seemed to love. Normally against some Jedi who stacked up about the same as her he would have felt fine, except he knew of this Sith. He'd heard the stories and glimpsed the remains of battlefields that she had seen made. Even if every Brother and Sister in the room were to be at his back against her alone, suddenly some part of him felt like that wouldn't be enough. And here he was with the whole of his normal gear - from grenades, to fire in a can and blasters. Yet somehow horribly outgunned because the galaxy was just fair like that.

Essja squared his shoulders as he turned to face her, "I don't need credits to make me stand by what I say, ma'am," Then he had the audacity to wink, "They just help."


@Prudence