Tea With Geist Weiss

[Dmitri]

Three days ago, Geist Weiss had thought the Plague of Dis would be the worst matter he'd have to deal with. After destroying the Planet of Dis and ending the Phirisan disease outbreak, he had managed to capture a Jedi Master by the name of Larik Novan. Novan had managed to slay Sith Lord Scyphodeeiruus, but had fallen victim to Geist's mental supremacy. Novan had been neutralized. Proud of his prize, he had left the ruins of Dis and Erinyes to return home. However, there he learned a terrible truth.

Darth Vereor was gone.

Reports even now were coming in. Two days ago while Darth Vereor had been visiting the immaculate prison Reckoning to deal with the insurgent Nathaneau Bastele, Reckoning had come under attack. Darth Vereor had been captured, frozen in carbonite. Hundreds of prisoners had escaped. Reports were conflicting on whether Warden Audroti had survived. Sending agents, he gave them a single order: "Clean up this mess." If Audroti had survived, Geist planned to have Audroti answer for his failures, the Sith Master would be summoned to Anaxes once the immediate problems at Reckoning were resolved, granting he still lived. With the death that swarmed Reckoning, he could not pinpoint Audroti's presence.

Geist Weiss, otherwise known as Darth Somnus, knew he had to act immediately. Calling a press conference, he declared himself the new Dark Lord of the Sith in Darth Vereor's absence. Tempting as it was to claim only the seat of regent, he knew he had to proclaim full authority to prevent a few members of the Dark Council from attempting to usurp the title. Andraste was empress, one feared as immortal. As such, Dark Lord was the coveted as the highest position possible in the New Sith Imperium, at least by a Sith.

Within two days, Darth Somnus had accomplished much in solidifying his power. A couple Dark Councilors were stirring things up, but he felt confidant they could be dealt with, one way or another. General Sev, after all, had been conveniently stationed at Anaxes for a conference that was lasting a week, to cover new military strategies. In reality he was the excuse to have half of Battlegroup Invincible at Anaxes to deal with the Dark Council should something arise.

Geist personally would have preferred to stay on Anaxes to deal with the Dark Council himself, but he had other priorities. Larik Novan was still in his custody. He had Novan stewing in the sub-levels of the Phantom Palace. Now the Dark Lord had an opportunity to visit the Phantom Palace himself. Destroying the Planet of Dis had taken a toll on the Dark Lord. He had managed to convey the appearance of full strength to the Dark Council and the Sith Order, but he required a couple days to fully recuperate, and there was no better place to do so for Geist than the Phantom Palace.

The Phantom Palace was the more common name for the behemoth castle on Zigoola. Constructed over the course of six years, it was Geist's place to relax and replenish his power. The hallucination-inducing planet made the construction of Zigoola's defenses much easier. Filled with over a thousand Force crystals that served as part of the architecture, the Phantom Palace was filled with Geist's power. Those who entered would face illusions forged from their memories. If one knew how to navigate the proper channels in the Force, those illusions would share peaceful memories or fail to work. However, intruders would be faced with the demons of their past.

Many of the guards on Zigoola, especially the Phantom Palace, were Covallons. Covallons looked like Yali, but were actually sentient beings. They fed into the deceptions of the sanctuary by prowling around, as if beasts roaming their hunting grounds. There were a few other defenses, but not as heavily fortified as other abodes of the Sith. After all, it was simply Geist's sanctuary, not a normal temple. It hosted shields and ground-to-air weaponry, but envied the defenses of military bases. However, as Geist's ship Poltergeist landed, Geist considered having the defenses upgraded.

Darth Somnus's signatory illusion had been shed the moment his ship broke into the atmosphere. He found little point in wearing them as it allowed him to focus on restoring his reserves. The Dark Nexus called Zigoola would aid in his objective of restoring himself to normal standards. However, even then he doubted he would be the same again. To feed the power necessary to destroy Dis, it had been necessary to drink on the darkness propagated by the Phirisan disease. The black stain would forever mark his soul. But he was determined to not let it stain his mind.

A Covallon was at the foot of the ramp went Geist disembarked. The creature telepathically reported that Larik Novan was still in the sub-levels, being shown illusions to trap his mind. However, his will had yet to break yet. Geist pondered on this. "Let him remain there for one more day. The Phantom Palace will sustain him for now." That was a feature Geist was most proud of. The Force was strong on Zigoola. The Phantom Palace was a filter, that injected the Force into the Palace's occupants. The Force could keep occupants alive despite lack of food or water. However, when it came time to meet with Larik face-to-face, Geist had decided he would take away those pleasantries. A starving man was an angry man, but one easily tempted by food's requiem.

Geist used those precious hours to rest and heal after the fatigue Dis imparted. He was detracted from that goal slightly when a visitor arrived at his doorsteps, but that matter was already resolved, the visitor long gone. Awaking to a beautiful morning, Geist partook in a lazy morning ritual of showering, eating breakfast, and catching up in the events of the Imperium. As he finished the last entry in his holopad, a 13-UZ Service droid approached, inquiring if he would like any tea.

"Indeed, please prepare a pot," answered Geist. "However, please bring it to the sub-level. I will be meeting my guest soon." Stretching his legs, Geist began the walk to the sub-levels to greet his prized prisoner, Larik Novan.

 

[TAC]

Brace up, Corellia, stand firm and tall.

Larik blinked twice. Was it three times? Couldn't have been more than that.

"Mom, how many times did I blink?" came a young voice.

A woman no older than 35 bent down into Larik's vision, smiling at the boy. She didn't say anything, instead kissing him on the head and turning to walk away. Larik reached out to grab her hand as it swung back, but suddenly she was much farther away, sitting at a table on the patio of their favorite local restaurant. Looking down he reviewed his hands, back and front - they were still young, but had the size of man's hands. A solid "hurmph" cam from his lips, much lower than his voice a moment ago, but still not as mature as he knew it should be. At least, not as mature as he thought it should be.

None shall subdue you, you'll never fall.

"Finally, lunch!" the young man announced to his mother as the waiter placed their food before them. He was sitting at the table now, smiling largely to his mother. He was glad to see her, she was so busy at the governmental building now that she had been elected--------

Time stopped.

Sound, movement, thought, it all stopped. Larik jumped up, kicking his chair over. His mother sat, smiling back at her son, frozen as if there was never a moment after. The young man could feel an amazing sense of urgency. Danger. The world buzzed around him, even though there not a single sound or readable movement. The Corellian knew what was supposed to come next. But it wasn't happening. Instead they were frozen the moment before the bolt was shot. It was shot, wasn't it? Why wasn't it happening?

Go your own way and let none hold you back,

Larik looked around frantically, but there terrorists was nowhere to be found. The skies seemed to close in on him, swallowing themselves into walls through which the Force screamed. His mind buzzed as he looked back to his mother, replaced by a door that he knew - although he didn't know how he knew - was locked. Looking down, he was sitting again, but this time he sat in a chair that binded him with stun cuffs. The buzzing in his mind increased as he reached out to them, and he screamed in pain as the stun cuffs fell off from his wrists, releasing him from his confinement.

But that was too easy.

Instead of rushing to the door, the Jedi Master sat on the floor, closing his eyes. The buzzing quieted, the images replaced by the cool blackness of his eyelids. Taking a deep breath, he realized his body was famished. He hadn't eaten for several days, but his body was oddly satisfied, taken care of. He pulled his mind in and around him, separating the tendrils of the building he was in from his mind. Larik had heard of these force-focused places, where the Force enveloped the very being of the place, but he could feel it's power confined to the building.

Carefully, he sifted through his memories, separating the events from Dis and what followed from the scattering of memories that he had experienced. Content, his mind reinforced against the strong will of this place, albeit tired, he re-opened his eyes. What his eyes told his brain now connected, making the sense it should have to begin with. He felt the presence of Darth Somnus ascending to him, and then noticed the display in front of him. Some sort of pot with cups.

The Jedi was free, but he knew he wasn't. Larik was weak from the fight, from this place, and had not even the energy to stand after using what he had left to relax himself and put up his mental barrier. The Sith would know that, and would know that the cuffs wouldn't hold the once-Councillor from escaping. The room, perhaps the building, must've had more restraints that Larik would have to deal with later. As far as Larik understood, the Sith still thought he was a Councilor, along with Guhoo, Ebb, Kara Vaalki (whom Larik had never met), and Jhon. Regardless, the Sith wasn't going to just let him walk away.

Thus, he decided the very place he was sitting would be adequate. He would see what the Darth had in store for him, and see what exactly he could do to get out of it.

for your future calls you ever ever on-n-n-n-n.

 

[Dmitri]

By the time Darth Somnus had descended to the sub-levels, the illusion bliss had been stripped away. To no surprise, when he entered the chamber, Larik Novan was already somewhat lucid. However, while the Sith Lord had been spending his time recharging, Larik's energy had been draining.

The steel doors creaked open to give way to Geist's presence. The doors were designed less about security and more about weight. It took strength in the Force to open those doors, and most prisoners lacked the energy to accomplish that after several hours under the Phantom Palace's veil. However, the Illusionist wasn't about to leave things to chance. There were other security measures in place. Lockdown. Elevators that ceased to work. However, the greatest defense Phantom Palace employed was its illusions. Infused with Geist's own power, he could forge the illusions to satisfy his needs. A prisoner could be embalmed with bliss or torment. For Larik Novan, Geist had chosen bliss, as to relax Larik's mind. It allowed the mind to drop its guard and the body didn't pump as much adrenaline, instigating increased healing.

Darth Somnus entered the chamber. 14-UZ had been a busy droid, the tea already present. That saved him the trouble of working the doors a second time; he suspected one of the Covallons opened the door the first time. Letting Larik's eyes engulf his presence, Darth Somnus slightly bowed respectfully. "Greetings, Larik Novan. I am Darth Somnus." With a little mocking tone seeding his words, he added, "I hope you enjoyed the festivities." Geist motioned to the tea set between them. "Tea? I have Cinnagaran tea, Corellian tea, and Zel tea brewed."

 

[TAC]

Larik Novan's body was weak, yes. Battered from fighting, from being held in constraint. His mind was weak as well, from what it might normally be. The dreams he had felt were of times gone by, times that had at one time haunted the aging Jedi, but they were events he had put in their place - in the past. Although he had been struggling to fight against them, he had managed to break the spell of the Sith's fortress, but he had exhausted himself in the process.

Lord Weiss had quite the reputation, as well, and Larik knew not to underestimate the Sith or to overestimate his own current state. There was little doubt in Larik's mind that the Sith had not been focusing his time or energy on the Jedi Master, however, and so the man tried to relax and rest as he awaited Weiss's next move. Unfortunately for Larik the Darth arrived rather quickly, making a grand entrance by opening the large doors and standing before the Jedi.

Bowing to Larik, he greeted him. Larik was already feebly getting to his feet, perhaps exaggerating his weakness by a bit. As he stood before the sith a bit of uncharateristic anger flared within him. "A pleasure to meet you finally, Darth Somnus," the Jedi responded. He had, of course, heard a great deal about the mysterious member of the Dark Council. The festivities was an odd comment, considering Larik was locked in a dungeon forced to recall memories of times long gone by, but then Larik didn't doubt that Weiss was most likely quite odd.

"I am enjoying the festivities, yes, quite a resort you have here," he responded, smiling weakly at the man who was starving him out. "But please Darth Somnus, call me Master Novan." the Jedi continued. He quietly sat himself back in front of the tea, pouring himself some of the Corellian brew. It wasn't alcohol, but the Jedi had drank some of it before, and it could've been worse.

"Thank you for your hospitality, Darth Somnus," the Jedi said, gesturing for the Sith to sit across from him on the floor, the tea between them. "To what purpose do I owe the honor of your company?"

 

[Dmitri]

A pleasure indeed, the Dark Lord thought. Their initial greeting had been more painful for the Jedi, where Geist had conquered him aboard the Clairvoyance. Now was their opportunity to start over, courtesy more prevalent than the first encounter. Darth Somnus had to give Larik credit. He was doing decently well keeping composed, acting as if it were a tea party. What was with Jedi Councilors and oblivousness to their situation. The Tetan suspected it was their upbringing. As the Corellian poured tea native to his homeland and sarcastically thanked his host, Geist in turn poured tea native to his own home.

The Dark Lord took a sip of the tea. It was an interesting acrobatic maneuver through the Force. Though visually it would appear as though it was being absorbed by the metallic skin, it was in fact being manipulated through the mask into Darth Somnus' lips. The Sith left himself a little too cocky and flowed it into his mouth too fast, burning his tongue slightly. Parching his lips, Geist forced the pain out of mind.

Darth Somnus placed the tea cup down. "You're here to answer for crimes your organization has committed. Bribery, murder, extortion, terrorism. Enemies of the state." Geist chuckled. "Well, not your organization. You're not the Grandmaster, after all. We know that. Instead, the real leader is Darth Silentius' concubine, Ebberla Daw." The statement was a fishing expedition. Numerous reports suggested Ebberla Daw was the Grandmaster. His own interrogation of Caden Angar showed the Padawan believed that to be true. However, Geist was a scientist at heart. Try and try again. Always look for disagreements to one's hypothesis. He insulted Ebberla to help propel a reaction from Larik.

 

[TAC]

What should it be, other than a tea party? The more time that the situation was normal was more time that the Jedi Master had to rest and think. The more they sat and drank, exchanging conversation, the more Larik could take stock of the situation. It certainly wasn't good, but he'd need a lot more than that if he was going to make something out of it.

Carefully, Larik looked down at his own tea. He felt the Sith hesitate while sipping on his own drink, although the brief glimpse of thought was quickly scattered to the wind. The Jedi Master put the cup to his lips with a smile, not taking a sip, and put his own glass down when the Dark Lord discarded his own. The being began the conversation with a list of Larik's "crimes": bribery, murder, extortion, terrorism, enemy of the state. Before the Sith had won the Battle of Coruscant, Larik could have said the same thing about the man sitting across from him, which was why it was important not to lose battles.

The Dark Lord's off-handed comment about Ebb set off alarms within Larik's head, but he had no idea what the Sith was going after. Better, instead, to re-direct the conversation - a skill Larik had mastered well in training a few of the younger learners. "That's quite an array of allegations you have pitted against us, Darth Somnus," the Jedi responded simply, a coy smile on his lips. "While I am usually the voice that points out the difference between the Sith & Jedi to some of my fellows, we can probably do without the propaganda. This isn't the front lines. This is simply tea."

The Jedi's smile faded from his lips as he wondered what information he could gather from his crafty opponent while not getting himself killed. "Were it not for the actions of a select few on Coruscant, the final days of our war may have been different. You might have been the enemy of the state instead of painting that target on the Order. The galaxy might not see you as the heroes your official story suggests." He paused for a moment, his eyes seeking some sort of humanity in the swirls of the advanced illusionist. "But then, you can hardly be anything other than a murderer and a terrorist while condoning the behavior of the Empress. Perhaps there is more of a difference between the Jedi and Sith than our ideologies, as I have been saying. I wouldn't think it very hard for the citizens of the galaxy to see through the Sith's poorly construed official story after the destruction of Coruscant."