Welcome to the Family

[The Doctor]

The Prakith Cathedral
09:27
Theme

*This is a social thread, Exiles only, death disabled PvP if it (somehow) gets to that point*​

Having grown up on worlds like Jakku and Ossus, and frequented places like Ilum and Serenno, The Doctor had certainly been used to open spaces and long walks. She often found it quite exhilarating to take a little hike up a hill, or surf on sand dunes, they were quite the exhilarating little distraction. She always did that when she didn't have a blasted apart Jedi to patch up, it helped remind her of how beautiful the Galaxy could be and why she fought so hard with the Jedi to protect it. She let out a small sigh as those memories resurfaced, different outlook from a different lifetime, but still fond memories nonetheless of a good time, a simpler time. It was a time before her eyes had been opened and she saw the cosmos for what it really was, and the Jedi for who they truly were, but now she could see, and despite the sorrow it brought with it, she was happy and content on this new path. It was true that her old friends were now enemies, but she knew that once she had gathered enough strength and allies, she would be able to return to them and show them the way...but she digressed.

Of all the hikes and expeditions and long walks she took, there was one particular piece of terrain she hated more than anything: KRIFFING MOUNTAINS!!! And lo and behold! Here she was trying to scale a very steep mountain to get where she needed to go, and with a dang hangover no less! She truly cherished Malthazar's company as a friend and staunch ally, but his choice of Licqeur was dangerous, and she was never going on a booze fueled party night with him again, slow romantic and vulnerable dancing be damned. She had almost torn her coat and clothes at least 10 times as she scaled the rockface, completely oblivious to the path a few metres from her position until she finally reached the top, rolling over the ledge and coming to a rest on her back, panting and puffing like a womp rat who just outran a T-16 Test Run. All she could do as she saw the path and her eyes followed it down was sigh softly and let her head fall back to the floor, letting out a high pitched scream of anguish that she immediately backpedeled from as it scraped through her ear drums.

"Never again, never getting drunk with Mal again." She muttered softly, dragging herself to her feet. Levi had given her the summons a while back, but she had sent words ahead...hopefully there was no sniper waiting to give her a love tap at 600 yards, or an evil clown waiting to blow a horn in her ear. "Levi! It's me, lemme in! It's waaaay too bright out here...and bring some aspirin!"

@Deviant

 

[Darth Malos]

.

Malthazar's eyes scanned the rocky mountains and hills of Prakith as his speeder cruised 100 meters off the ground. The sun had just risen, casting that golden glow over the ragged stone. The sight was nice, but the Templar had other things on his mind.

What has this kriffing idiot gotten herself into? He used that term affectionately, and Malthazar suspected he would never actually call the Doctor that in person. Still, she deserved it. It took a special kind of person to get black-out drunk, wake up, and immediately travel to one of the only safehouses for Exiles in the galaxy, a temple inhabited by some of the strongest Masters their faction had to offer. Only the Force knew what would happen to her if she said or did something stupid, and the effects of last night were still mildly in effect for sure, which only heightened the Templar's worries.

He had severely overestimated her tolerance for alcohol, and as a result she had not only spent the night drunkenly running around, dancing and singing like an imbecile, but had woken up and decided to continue yesterday's show. Fully aware that this would happen, Malthazar had stuck a temporary tracker in her cloak as she passed out, a safe guard to ensure she didn't do anything drastic when she came to. When he saw where she was headed, he had been forced to hop into a transport and go bail her out.

To his absolute dismay, the GPS was stating that the Doctor was not in the temple, but in the area around it. At first, it had shown her in the capital, but over the past few hours Malthazar had watched as she walked through the mountain ranges. As the speeder reached the temple, he prayed that there was something wrong with the tracker.

His transport landed to a stop 30 meters behind the doctor, and the Templar stepped out as soon as the doors open. He speed-walked over, holding his cane in one hand, not even bothering to tap the ground with it. His arms were not in the sleeves of his trench coat, which merely rested on his shoulders, giving him the appearance of a very cross headmaster.

"Doctor, will you please tell me what ancient, evil spirit possessed you? Did you wake up hoping to train, then decided on an impromptu visit to the temple?" A tint of comical exasperations laced his voice, the Exile so out of element that he did not even know how to put his frustration into words. Why couldn't she just spend the day in like a normal person?

 

[Poot]

Poot floated mid-air in the meditation room as he pondered all that had happened on Telos. He had killed someone there, a young Jedi. Poot had done what was expected of him. Exiles had been sent to Telos to kill Jedi and sack the hidden temple there. He and the others had accomplished that. The station had gone a little bit South, but that was alright. The sacking of the temple had been the huge win. He'd said all along that he wanted the Jedi to fear and respect him. He had definitely sensed a great deal of fear in the temple, but there was no respect. It was a fear born out of disgust. Nothing had changed with them since he'd left, apparently. Poot would need to grow stronger before they respected him through fear. He was willing to bet that there were even people among the Exiles who had no idea Poot existed. Maybe he had been unreasonable to expect the Jedi to finally give him some respect so soon. It would have to be earned through further hard work.

Perhaps the treasure trove of data they'd stolen from the Telos archive would help. Poot had yet to go through it all, there was so much. A lot of it would probably be useless or already known to the Exiles, but there had to be something good buried in there. He would need to devote more time to it. For now, though, he had decided to take a bit of a breather. Blissfully evil mediation did wonders to calm him down. While overcoming a Jedi during a surprise attack on a temple wasn't enough to launch him to stardom, perhaps it would earn him a friend. Poot never had a friend before. He was aware that he could never fully trust anyone here, but...that was no different than when he was still a Jedi. The place and people had changed, but...things certainly hadn't gotten worse. Poot had finally been allowed to take part in actual operations, far more than what the Jedi had offered him.

The murder of a Jedi was no big deal then. If anything, it was good. He had done what was expected...perhaps more than what was expected. Nobody ever thought a wermal would accomplish much or be particularly dangerous. That attitude might change now. His own attitude certainly had, Poot felt...confident. His goal of becoming horrendously powerful didn't seem quite so pie-in-the-sky now. He would need to train more. Perhaps Siris could teach him, the Exile had shown himself to be quite powerful in the force back on Telos.

Poot gently settled back down to the chamber's floor. He stood, brushed himself off, and waddled out of the room in search of some drink. A nice, warm glass of water would hit the spot. And maybe, just maybe, he could regale some Exiles with the story of how he and Siris had sacked the Jedi temple on Telos.

 

[Nasaug]

Nasuag has been spending much of the early morning hunting. In a pouch he removed another triangular piece of flat metal. Lifting it with the force he launched it at a near by deer like creature. The shard flew straight and true in to the neck and severed the spine and dropped it. Slowly he moved to get the creature. Using his claw he slashed the main artery of the left side of the neck. Letting the blood drain Nasuag stood and looked around feeling the force for life forms around him. The area had been quiet and wonderfully calm. Picking up the prey he had killed he threw it over his shoulder and moved back toward the temple.

Moving at a good pace he was able to make his way to near to the temple. At a slow pace he moved toward the main gates with the fallen prey over his shoulder. Getting to the temple he found the area to clean the deer-like creature. The area Nasuag had set up to clean this prey was readied with containers. Taking his time he hangs the creature and proceeds to gut and strip it's hide. He starts to break down the cleaned creature readying for ones to cook at the next meal.

 

[The Doctor]

Malthazar sounded mad, and loud, and The Doctor didn't really like either one. She heard his quick march as she was tumbling toward the entrance, causing her to turn back and freeze in place, her face going chalk white (literally) for a few seconds. She probably should've waited for him to wake up before she left his apartment and, um...not made a mess of his bathroom. She covered one ear as he started speaking, wincing in pain from the sheer volume alone as he admonished her. "Not so loooud," She whined, her voice coarse, rough, and irritated from all the drink, "and I'm not a kid, I can handle myself...but thank you though, I knew you caaaared." She gave him a friendly poke to his arm, flashing a goofy grin up at him.

With that, she turned on her heel and started to stroll into the Temple, assuming Malthazar would follow behind at some point. "Hello? Anyone here?" She called, receiving only the echo of her own voice. This place couldn't be abandoned could it? "Is this place abandoned? Did the Jedi destroy it?...are there any Jedi waiting to ambush me? Please don't...I have cake?" She took off her messenger bag and brought out some cake she saved in a container. "Nadela!? Levi!? Suiren!?...Jedi Ambushers!?"

 

[Darth Malos]

.

Malthazar saw the fear on her face, and although normally he would have relished seeing such an expression on the face of an enemy, this was the Doctor, his closest friend. His features softened, and she poked his arm, to which he poked back.

"Fine," he replied, the smallest hint of a grin, his emotions threatening to betray his facade of big, tough guy. He grabbed a hold of her arm, propping her up as if she had just lost a leg and needed to be carried off the battlefield. "Let's get you somewhere to lay down," he added as they entered the Temple. A corridor branched off to their right, which lead to the training grounds. To their left, the lounges and common room were, and that was the way Malthazar lead the two Exiles.

They stepped into the corridor, walking between tall, dark pillars that held up the cave the temple had been built in. Their boots stepped onto the marble silently, the only noise in the entire building being the Doctor as she shouted like an imbecile and waved cake around. Malthazar stopped for a second to take the time to touch her arm with his hand, lowering it down. "Something tells me Master Leviticus and co. do not want cake, Doctor," he murmured, trying to be quiet.

 

[Solari Valek]

Prakith was a planet of rugged mountains and rocky hills, the jagged landscaped pockmarked here and there with caverns and crevasses. There was little plant life. Large plateaus jutted up from the earth in random, erratic formations, upon which stood the draconian cities of Prakith; the empty terrain had bred a austere peoples who cared little for ornamentation. Like the land, the cities were bare bones, constructed for efficiency. The people here were direct and business like - they said what they meant and meant what they said.

I rather liked them.

I saw this all from the west-facing window of one of many empty and seemingly useless rooms in the mountain temple on Prakith. After Nadela had mentioned Leviticus as a rival to Kal, I decided to seek out the place he had claimed as his own. It was...quaint. The cave was massive, in truth, and a veritable castle had been shaped from the rock, long halls and corridors carved deep into the earth.

The "courtyard" beneath the window was a sprawl of uneven terrain and treacherous footing. I saw a Shistavin stalking across the grounds, massive and furred, a deer slung across his shoulders. Interesting. I hadn't seen anyone hunting with their own two hands in quite a while. I didn't know any Shistavin either, but I figured such an animalistic people might indeed enjoy hunting. He certainly had the equipment for it.

And...was that Malthazar? Always fekking Malthazar. I saw him everywhere now, it seemed. I figured I might say hello - he might think I was stalking him, and wouldn't that be funny? There a woman with him, but she didn't seem familiar.

I made my way to the ground floor, but damned if I knew where to go from there. I had sort of wandered aimlessly through the temple to find my way here, snooping about like a common grav-ball mom. I had just found myself at another dead end corridor when I turned a corner and saw a little orange creature waddling through the halls ahead of me, and even from this distance, I noticed a slight odor. I had smelled worse of course. Men and women alike often shavit themselves senseless under my tender care. What a curious little creature. It's flesh was mottled orange, and it seemed to be covered in a mucus like membrane... or was that sweat? Hmmm, curiouser and curiouser. He seemed to know where he was going, but it was my curiosity that caused me to blurt out, "What are you?"

 

[Ryras Nur]

There was a problem.

A low growl rumbled in the Cathar's throat as she was brought out of her meditation.

Her teeth flashed as the voice echoed down the hall, calling out to see if anyone was home (@TheBrokenMadMan). Her heart started to beat more quickly as they continued on about cake and wondered if this was some stupid joke, because someone was going to choke on their cake. The dark warrior rose to her feet, the hair raising slightly on her back and shoulders as the Force coward from her presence. Without effort, the Warlord's cloak snapped her pawed fingers and she draped it over her shoulders, exiting what was supposed to be a sound proof chamber.

Ryras barely made a sound as she carried herself down the corridor near the entrance of the temple, her claw nails flexing with agitation as she pondered on what she would do when she found the idiot making all the noise. Her dark presence could be felt before she would be seen and soon she would find the source. The feline's yellow eyes fell on a particular older white hair individual and someone waving cake around as he tried to help her. What an embarrassment.

The Force reached out from her furred fingers, Malthazar (@The Matt) and The Doctor would feel their muscles stiffen to the point the would be unable to move. Frozen in place, Ryras kept them there until she approached closer, inspecting the imbeciles who dared to make a mockery of such a sacred place.

 

[Darth Malos]

.

Sometimes, a very small mistake could lead to a very large consequence. Of course, it tended to happen at the most unexpected times, and sadly for Malthazar, now was one of those times.

He could feel something stirring within the temple, a dark, heavy presence. It seethed with emotion, and an edginess that made the Templar himself shudder. At first, his brain said "Alais" because that was the only thing it could compare such a presence to. Malthazar had not been near many powerful beings, so this threw him off-guard. Then again, what did he expect? He assumed a chewing out from Leviticus, mainly aimed at the Doctor, but the...thing that made its way down the corridor toward them was certainly not Leviticus, unless the Master had suddenly become a Lycanthrope. The Templar's blood ran cold, and he immediately drew away from the Doctor, as if to form a protective wall against himself that would prevent anyone--even her--from speaking or interacting with him until this presence was gone.

The furry person that made its way toward them, her yellow eyes peering into their hearts, was none other than-

"Warlord Nur." The words came out as a gasp, mostly out of surprise, but there was a bit of fearful awe in there. The pale man had grown paler now, but he had not entirely lost his composure. His gaze betrayed no emotion, resting on an unreadable poker face.

His muscles had stiffened, and the Templar let them do so. It would be unwise to resist, considering who he now stood before.

He did not speak again until spoken to. He was well accustomed to being scolded by people in high positions, those that were much more powerful and could squash him like a bug. In situations like this, it was best to remain silent and resolve things without being too pushy or too desperate. He would not allow her to see more weakness than needed.

He did not spare a look toward the Doctor. There was a time for fighting and there was a time for diplomacy, and Malthazar did not want to try his chances against a Warlord. The Doctor might misinterpret one of his looks and get one of them killed, something he did not want.

She would not kill them unless given a reason to. Their numbers were far too thin, their forces far too weak, for her to murder a Master and an Exile that was on the brink to Mastery. Besides, Malthazar was the main organizer behind the Anzati missions, and had fought on Telos. He had proven his loyalty.

 

[Nadela Hasrid]

The Doctor was drunk, Nadela knew that much for certain. The commlink call she had gotten was far too slurred and intelligible to be anything else. The good Doctor had engaged quite deeply in some good spirits, drunk-dialed her (she made a mental note to look up what 'BFF' meant later), and had flown herself to Prakith with that Dreadheart fop in tow. Which was most assuredly a terrible, terrible idea. Exiles were not generally known for their tolerance or trustworthiness, so wandering drunk into one of their sacred temples was like getting kark-faced in a nexu's den. Needless to say, Nadela had thrown on every scrap of armor she had, grabbed up her weapons, and made a b-line directly for the temple as fast as she could. On the surface, this uncharacteristically generous and selfless move was made to ensure that a potential ally was not snuffed out for her overindulgence. What Nadela would not have admitted to, however, as caring on some level for the well being of a woman who was, as far as she was concerned, her first and only real friend in the galaxy. This was why her approach to the relatively abandoned temple had been more of a sprint than a stroll, and she had kept to the shadows and walls when she reached the structure.

Even on her approach she could feel the presences in the Force emanating from the doorway. One was the unmistakable, inescapable void of the Doctor's own darkness, the other was Malthazar's colder disdain. It was stronger than usual, more robust, but not by much. But the third presence was unmistakable, a force of such dread and malice that for a brief second it stopped Nadela in her tracks. A Warlord was on Prakith, and they were with the Doctor and Malthzar. And that were NOT happy. Pulling down the hood of her cloak and taking her helmet in hand, Nadela chose to make a slightly more open, and less threatening approach to the temple entrance, now realizing what she was up against. There was almost no chance that she, Malthazar, and the Doctor could take on a Warlord, so diplomacy and placation were her best defenses against whatever shenanigans the two had engaged in.

Rounding the corner and into the full view of the assembled company, Nadela's heart actually regained its previously lost beat when she saw the Warlord she would be working with. Ryras Nur, the towering Cathar mass of muscles and well-tested mettle that acted as Warlord for her own sect, the Templars. Of all the aged and ineffectual Warlords, Nadela had the easiest time feigning respect for the hulking feline as she felt a distant kinship with a fellow apex predator. Nadela's own armor marked her as a Templar of the Exile order, and her adoptive father Vano Hasrid had been a Templar trainer of some renown. Hopefully, these would be enough to curry some favor with an agitated Warlord.

"Warlord Nur." She said respectfully, making sure the Warlord had seen her before speaking, she did not want to appear as an alarming presence.

 

[The Doctor]

She felt it long before she felt it, the darkness creeping up her spine. It was much like her own, but utterly dwarfed her in size and scope, a power that The Doctor couldn't hope to match. She knew full well what it was, she could remember the signature all too well fro Telos and Anzat, though both times she had felt them at a distance. It was Warlord...a Warlord was here, and she was hungover inside an Exile Temple. She froze, the colour draining from her skin as her mental faculties very quickly cleared, her mind realizing what the hell she just did just in time to feel her body stiffen for real. She didn't try to struggle or fight, that would only mean her death if she did. Instead, she started to breath slowly, inhaling and exhaling slowly, letting her fear take hold, and wrenching it into herself. Fear was a powerful survival tool if one only allowed themselves to use it, and by the Force, The Doctor could use a healthy dose by now. "...I immediately regret everything I just said." She gasped, the fear clear in her voice.

As she stood there, contemplating her current fate, she saw the form of Ryras Nur emerge from the shadows, looking more than a little annoyed at her. "Warlord Nur" She greeted, now pulling her voice under a tighter leash, mindless fear would only get her killed, she needed a level head. She was no fool, she knew full well what Warlord Nur was capable of, and that power and presence demanded respect, respect she would give. "I didn't realize you were among us, I assume that I disturbed you with my um...my hungover ramblings. I am truly sorry about this, I didn't mean to act in such a way, it's unbecoming of how we should be and I was a fool and an idiot. I am sorry, and I beg your forgiveness" She explained, making no attempt to hide the fear, or respect, laden within her voice, simply controlling it, like any Exile would. Rationally, she knew that apart from this, she would have little reason to kill her, she took part in the Anzat and Telos operations, not as much as Malthazar did, but she did her part when the time came. She had hoped that the most level headed of the Exiles would recognize that.

 

[Ryras Nur]

They feared like children who disobeyed the rules willingly.

The cathar narrowed her brow, she smelled another approach, dressed in armor (@The Captain) as she spoke to her. Ryras didn't care who she was, she was flesh in the tin can that she called armor. Nadela would have made two very dangerous mistakes: first, Warlord Nur was not anyone's buddy here, she was not interested in conversation, Ryras had not even addressed her and yet the Apprentice was speaking to the feline. The second mistake the Apprentice must had forgotten her manners, the last time Ryras checked, it was respectful to kneel when a Warlord made themselves present.

Nadela would feel herself go weightless, the Warlord was beyond displeased as she flicked her wrist and the Exile Apprentice was shot into the stone wall. The power, speed and strength of the Warlord's throw could kill a man. For Nadela though, she was lucky to just hear the crunch and crack of several of her bones breaking against the wall.

Ryras breathed in, taking comfort in the sound. It had felt like ages since she had heard it.

She was not done as the two in front of her; the older human male...or at least she thought was human addressed her, but the other was bubbling and tripping over her words. "You didn't realizzzze?" she hissed, a growl rumbled in her throat. She glanced at the container with the cake and the cold chill of the dark side grew around them.

"Show me this cake." The Warlord said, releasing Mal and The Doctor from her grip.

 

[Nadela Hasrid]

Nadela barely had time to realize what was going on before she was suddenly lifted off the floor and sailing through the air, slamming into the wall with enough force to crack the surface. On one hand, her armor was not without padding, so the worst her forelimbs and chest had taken were some fractures and cracked ribs, quite luckily given the force of her impact. Unfortunately, the armor only protected what it actually covered, so her right thigh and right arm were dislocated from her torso, with the left half of her body suffering more fractures. Her head took the worst of it though, having dropped her helmet before entering. Already blood was beginning to poor from the massive gash in the back of her head. Remarkably her skull was still intact, but she felt like her brain had been set on fire. The only sensation Nadela was aware of at this moment was pain, an excruciating full-body agony that choked any noises that may have formed in her throat. Beyond her own anguish the world was a blur, as all the other sensations and thoughts in her head were now a smattering of blood on the temple wall where her head had impacted it. In this state her mental capacity had been reduced to that of a beast in pain, desperately seeking ether relief or reprisal, although with her mangled limbs she could do neither. All she could do was lie on the cold, smooth stone, and accept whatever happened next.

 

[Nasaug]

The butchering was quick and easily done. Gathering the parts into containers he takes a hind foot and sticks it into his mouth to chew on as he gathers the crates of food. Walking through the main gates he could feel the stirring of force users inside. He could feel the hate radiating from an upper level as he made his way to the kitchens. There were other cooks prepping food for the day as Nasuag made his way to the sink to wash the meat. Laying out each piece and internal organ he reached out again to sense the force users around him finding a couple of familiar beings.

The other user nearest to them were the Warlord. Smiling wickedly Nasuag switched the leg to a different side to chew on. Gathering the best parts that most would eat he set them to grill slowly. Placing soaked pieces of flavored wood on to the fire pit Nasuag had hoped to wake a few more to life and to ease the tensions with the smell of smoked meats and fresh breads.

The more undesirable parts he placed into a pot of water to boil them. Soon a meat broth was boiling away and his hunger was growing. Scooping them out he let them cool so that he could cut them into smaller pieces. As for the boiled heart he placed into a bowl and sprinkled salt on it. The kitchen and the halls soon filled with the smell of fresh breads and smoked meats. Taking the bowl with the cooked heart he made his way to a room that he chose which brought him past the Warlord and two others. As he moved into the area knealing. He wanted to take a little bite out of the warmed heart but waited for the area to clear before moving further into the frey. Taking the hind leg out of his mouth he placed his right hand on the ground in front of himself.

Sir,...... the morning meal is ready.

Standing he bowed and turned to make his way to his room via another much longer route.

 

[Darth Malos]

.

Malthazar could faintly feel a familiar presence, an Exile he had only met once before, most likely. His thoughts were confirmed as Nadela stepped into view, decked out in a full suit of armor. The Templar wished she could say she was a sight for sore eyes, and he was about to think it, until the Warlord picked her up and tossed her like a kriffing ragdoll. The sound of the impact was sickening, flesh against stone ringing out across the chamber. Malthazar could do nothing but watch, his muscles still stiff.

And then, they weren't. He felt himself being released, and instead of standing around like an imbecile, he kneeled, to at least show some respect. He remained silent throughout, not wanting to interject, despite his status as a Master. The Warlord still ranked higher and was more powerful than him.

A Shistavin came into view, carrying some food with him. Malthazar watched him out of the corner of his eyes, the Templar's face a mask of stone. Was he nervous? Certainly, but that was normal when in the presence of a Warlord. Emotions were coursing through him, all at once, and he let them. He shielded them off, preventing them from radiated off of him and into the Force, although on the inside he was marinating.

The dark side in the temple had amplified with the Warlord's presence, giving the atmosphere an air so tense it was electrifying. Malthazar observed the Warlord, his eyes taking in every movement.

 

[The Doctor]

The Doctor couldn't deny, for the first time in at least a year, she was properly afraid, neurons firing into nerves with such speed and power that every hair in her her body stood on end. The atmosphere was practically dripping with dread and malice, the Dark Side so palpable in this situation. Despite her fear, The Doctor still endeavored to control it, again, letting fear overwhelm her would only get her killed, she was not useless, she didn't fold at the first sign of trouble. While it was very true she was afraid of the Warlords, she also respected them a great deal for the power they wielded, and she had no intention of trying to offend one of them today.

As soon as her feet were free, they threatened to collapse beneath her, but she had enough strength to simply kneel down, bowing her head respectfully. Suddenly, she felt a very familiar presence, causing her brain to bundle up, slightly confused: it was Nadela. Almost as soon as this presence came to her, she heard voice, which was swiftly followed by the sound of cracking bones and grunting pain, meaning the Warlord was obviously not happy. At her order, she passed up the cake, holding it above her head and not daring to look up. It was a fairly simple chocolate fruit cake, gifted to her by the chef from The Light at the End, club, with a small helping of vitamins and nutrients injected in so there was some merit in eating it other than just being greedy. When had taken a slice this morning it was quite moist and tasty, she sincerely hoped it wouldn't have went dry in that time, especially if, for whatever reason, Warlord Nur decided to taste it.

 

[Ryras Nur]

Satisfied with Nadela's pain and agony, her attention turned back to the two before her.

"Lower your eyes." the Warlord hissed at Malthazar. Her yellow eyes flickered with hate and anger as another approached, a Shistavanen. Dirty Mutts... her thoughts stewed as he approached. Ryras would admit to herself she didn't understand why there were so many people roaming about. Didn't they have things to do? Jedi to kill? Tormenting younglings? This may be the explanation why the Jedi were so rambunctious in the galaxy, everyone was here, mingling like they were entitled to doing nothing.

Pathetic...

The pain and fear continued to fuel the feline warlord, giving the cathar power as the dark side twisted and thrived while The Doctor raised her arms above her head, presenting the cake. Ryras' gaze went from Malthazar to the cake, her teeth flashed with malice. The Force shuddered to the female's call and the next sounds were heard was the snap-hiss and a brief buzz of a lightsaber as it was swiped through The Doctor's wrists.

The cake and the hands of the woman would fall to the floor and would feel the excruciating pain of the amputation. Ryras spoke again, now in a low growl, but The Doctor would hear her inside her head. "Fool of a child, this is your punishment. You will remember who took your hands and if you replace them, I will take them again, along with another valuable limb."

She then looked at Malthazar, "Clean this up."

The red blade of her lightsaber retracted back into her hilt as she replaced the saber to her belt. The Doctor's hands floated as Ryras turned to face the Shistavanen who was kneeling and letting her know the morning meal is ready. "No it is not." the hands dropped into his bowl. "Cook these up, and then bring them to my chambers so I may eat."

With that, the Warlord adjusted her cloak, returning to the meditation chambers to continue her routine that was so rudely interrupted.

 

[Darth Malos]

.

Malthazar's gaze shifted, looking down at the Warlord's feet, but not for long. As fast as she had come, she was gone, the tension in the room suddenly gone, leaving the Exiles with a mess to clean up, both literally and figuratively. The Master eyed the cake on the floor,a skeptical look on his face.

Busted my ass to become one of the 5 Masters and this is the treatment I get, he thought. I have to do everything around here. It was true. Not only had he been forced to try to stop the Doctor from walking into the temple, but he had also been forced to take charge of the Anzati missions (no one else seemed to be interested), and now this. Malthazar flashed the cake a look of disgust as he lifted it off the ground with the Force. It floated off down the hallway and into a trash can around the corner.

The Templar stood, dusting off his cape and readjusting it. He turned to the Doctor, who seemed to be in pain, considering her hands were on the floor. He took out his medkit, images of Illum flooding his memory, despite the fact that it was only months ago.

"I think it is time for us to go," he said, tight lipped, taking her arms and applying cream to the stumps.

If this was the most level-headed of Warlords, he did not want to meet the others.

 

[Nadela Hasrid]

Nadela was conscious of nothing beyond her pain. The ringing in her ears deafened her to the words of the Warlord and the suffering of her victims. The blurring, swirling of her eyes blinded her to the sight of the Doctor on the floor sans hands. The darkness of the Warlord's presence in the Force drowned out the terror in the other Exiles' hearts. She was lost to the world, conscious only of the throbbing, pulsing pain that radiated through every cell of her body. Yet, she could marshal her rattled mind to figuring out how she had ended up pressed against the floor, unable to move, and racked with searing agony. She made a noise, some choking, strained rasp that even she was only half aware of and could not discern a purpose for.

 

[Poot]

He heard someone call out to him to ask just what the hell Poot was. This was a fairly common occurrence among the Exiles. He wasn't a well-known member or anything, so most people were shocked and disgusted when they saw him for the first time. He'd gotten used to it. Their reactions didn't bother him. He turned sideways to look behind him and saw a female echani was the one that had addressed him. He'd never seen her before. "I, I am P-P...P-Poot," he stammered out. It was odd, he could meet a Jedi in combat without hesitation but when he met an Exile for the first time? He had a little bit of a stutter. It disappeared if he was talking to someone he'd already met, however.

Poot continued his walk, he really wanted that glass of water. When you sweated as much as he did, you needed to keep hydrated. The thick emotions in the force were hard to miss, something was up just ahead. He rounded the corner to see Warlord Nur and some Exiles gathered before her. They looked as if they were not having their best day ever. Poot had never met the cathar before, but she was instantly recognizable to every Exile no matter how new. Her reputation preceded her. Nur's lightsaber ignited and flashed through the air as she cut some unfortunate person's hands off. If he had eyelids, his eye would have grown wide upon seeing what was going on between Nur and the other Exiles. Instead, his mouth just hung open in a stupid expression of surprise.

Poot immediately turned around and headed back the way he'd came, Nur's threat of future harm rang in his ears even though it had not been directed at him. There was absolutely no desire to be noticed or involved in that. If he was to meet Nur, he wanted it to be after he'd done something noteworthy and impressive. "Who are you?" he asked the Echani (@C.X. Jenious), now that they faced each other again in the hall. His mind was half-elsewhere as he pondered the cathar warlord's actions and attitude. He had not been present for the entire thing but he could still learn something from the altercation. Nur was a badass for sure, and the respect, fear, and pain she'd commanded in that moment was palpable. He wanted to be like her. Poot decided that he would have to win Nur's favor so she might teach him some dark workings of the force.