Ask Without A Paddle

[Darth Arcanos]

Azar’s method with the soldiers added the perfect combination of dread and mystery. By the time the two soldiers burst through the forest, they would find their fellow soldier with his head twisted clearly in the opposite direction. The grotesque sight gave them pause, and they still didn’t know the cause. The second soldier started to choke, clutching at his throat moments before he was slammed into a tree with his face smashed and broken. The last attempted to run, but his head was grasped with the Force and abruptly yanked back while his body kept moving in the opposite direction, snapping his spine instantly.

The Pureblood was satisfied with his handiwork, applying his usually discrete methods to taking down the group. The potion numbed his pain and he remained on his feet, walking towards a treeline as he expected an explosion to take place. Moments later, Vossari charged through the forest and all but tackled him.

There was an earth shattering explosion from the armory and a blaze of fire. Azar was under the Wrean that so valiantly jumped to protect him from the heat. From what he recalled of Wreans, the intense heat and flames were far more harmful to the shirtless Vossari than to a pureblood from Korriban.

Without warning, he rolled over to instead pin the acolyte under him, giving him a smirk as he gazed at them, “Did you forget you’re Wrean or did you just want to cuddle?” He asked with a chuckle before he rolled off entirely and into a crouch. He channeled the Force to himself, calling from the pain of his injuries to fuel his abilities.

Within moments, the entire wall of fire was redirected and sent in a blaze towards the camp. It was a controlled display of the Force, Azar orchestrating the entirety of the fire to overwhelm the rebels and disperse throughout the entire camp. He could hear the screams of agony already like music to his ears, the destructive force overwhelming his targets.

Azar grinned at his handiwork, turning to look at Vossari again. His grin faded instantly when he saw the state of their skin.

@Fine Dining Set

 

[Vossari Khaldun]

The flames licked Vossari's back before Azar took action. Icarus, too close to the sun; Vossari instantly knew the folly of their actions. Pain would teach them that lesson. His skin hissed and bubbled as the flames instantly drained him of moisture - forcing him to the ground, writhing in pain. His tattoos were scorched, with deep burn marks scorching past his skin and into his muscles and tendons. The smell of flowers and sea salt changed - now it stank of burning leather and old fish.

Pain wracked his lean form, but he was able to witness the wondrous display of light that Azar made. Like Azar's body, his movements were art, too. What had been an ill-formed explosion was changed into a masterful demonstration of control over flame. Azar was the master of the fire. Such a powerful truth is what set the Sith apart. They were meant to rule.

Vossari remained motionless when the flames reached their destination. Guards at the camp hurried to buckets of water to put out the fires - the poisoned water only turned into poison water vapor, choking those whose were too close to cloud. Others filled their canteens as they prepared to evacuate the camp. Others, still, were completely swallowed by the flame.

The resistance was slowly being bled out. The death of a thousand cuts. Such was their way. But Vossari could scant enjoy it with back splayed open, bloody and cracked. Their mouth felt terribly dry. The rest of their skin was completely dried out, as well.

"Fuck." They groaned out a pained gasp. "fuck, I can't..." They tried, feebly, to move their arms or legs. Even breathing sent terrible pains through them.

@Sreeya

 

[Darth Arcanos]

Azar closed the distance, grasping a hold of Vossari to keep them from collapsing, “You can and you will,” He growled as he looked around. He saw one of the rebels running away and used the Force to harshly jerk the woman back. She dropped to the ground and Azar didn’t hesitate, tapping into the Dark Side of the Force. It came as naturally to him as breathing given his origins, and he specialized in the darker applications of it.

The woman’s eyes rolled to the back of her head as her very essence was drained from her and poured into Vossari instead. It was a twisted and harsh act, and nothing like the healing of Jedi. The wounds would patch up in an ugly pattern, leaving deep fissures and ridges and a lattice of mangled skin closing together. It would warp any tattoos there, but it would close the wound and apply a gnarled heal.

The Pureblood forcefully shoved Vossari into the swampy pool nearby, practically throwing them in there. Azar knew it would soothe the wrean’s skin and keep it from cracking any further. The mud and swamp water would provide a makeshift relief until there was time to properly moisturize.

For now, the plan to destroy the rebels worked well. Either they died from the fire itself, inhaled the toxic smoke, or drank the poison water. They were devastated on all fronts.

Azar was in the process of mixing some of his potions with some of the local plants as he had witnessed from Vossari, picking up on alchemical and medicinal methods quickly. He began to make a paste that could act as a salve to heal the skin, “You really are a fool,” Azar called out to Vossari as he worked, knowing the acolyte was stable now.

@Fine Dining Set

 

[Vossari Khaldun]

The woman was not just killed, but drained of life. Her skin withered and dehydrated in real time, as her breath was literally stolen from her body. What was left behind was a husk - a body without obvious sins of physical trauma. It looked as if he had starved, dehydrated, and died of old age, all at once. Her once-lively skin was sickly and pallid, her hair dried and fell off in messy clumps. Her final pose - a pained gasp - dried eyes firmly pointed towards Azar.

Her essence was changed in Azar's hands. Marred by the pain of her own torturous demise, and fueled by the guiding hatred which Azar commanded, her life force became something wicked as it poured into Vossari. They felt it - the malice that powered the healing process. It was not soothing, but necessary - like a feeding tube forced down one's throat. Vossari recoiled, gagging and choking on the sudden influx of life and death into his body. Their body recoiled as if possessed by a strange, epileptic force, as dark markings grew around their wounded skin, creating a protective shield of scabbing that devoured their tattoos. Soon, the wound would be closed - but Vossari felt a consistent burning. It would linger, along with the physical disfigurement, for some time.

They felt...different. It wasn't just the fact that someone had died for them to live - this power was far more arcane than some simple blood transfusion. No, Vossari looked to Azar, and felt the heat rise on their back. Azar had left a permanent imprint. Vossari could feel it, the anger, hatred, passion, and power that the true Sith commanded.

He felt it all. And he desired more. This feeling could become addictive.

Vossari slunk into the mud, the cool touch of it immediately soothing his burning skin. He kept a faint smirk on his face as Azar addressed him. There'd be no quips this time, no longwinded rambling. His full, brown lips were tinged with sweat as he spoke. "I don't know your name."

@Sreeya

 

[Darth Arcanos]

Azar’s trick with the drain would leave Vossari’s back grotesque and twisted. He wondered what the acolyte would make of it when he gazed upon it at last. He didn’t miss the way the wrean persevered through the act, surrendering to the perversion of the Force and the molding of his body through arcane and twisted methods. It would have sent pain surging through him, but he accepted it despite the cost. It was almost admirable and a rare trait, certainly not one Azar expected from an individual that was loudly blasting music in the middle of a quiet forest.

He was going to make a snarky remark at Vossari’s question when he realized that perhaps the Acolyte only knew him as Potions Master or Master Kressh. These were entirely different circumstances.

“Azar,” He said quietly as he finished up the makeshift salve. Azar extended it to Vossari to apply on his body, observing its effects. The little concoction would do the job moisturizing his skin, getting them back to normal. Azar took the container and sat behind Vossari, applying it to their back and over the newly mended wounds. It would sting - badly - but it was necessary. His fingers lightly traced along the injuries, coating it in the salve, “Which is real you?” He asked quietly while brushing his fingers over the deep grooves, “This or the fool that got us captured?” Azar smirked to himself, though Vossari couldn’t see it.

@Fine Dining Set

 

[Vossari Khaldun]

Vossari shivered at Azar's touch, not least because the ointment that his red-skinned savior applied stung like hell. They resisted recoiling, though, and embraced the chilling, painful sensation by leaning deeper into Azar's grasp. Azar asked a pointed question, and he could imagine the devil's smirk even if he couldn't see it: Prideful and powerful. Alluring.

They could feel the pained, raw skin at their back - tattered, burning flesh - and could only imagine the fate of their back tattoos. The ink went deeper than the dermis, but extensive skin trauma like this would completely warp this colorful, patterned image into something darker and more twisted.

Who was Vossari, really? I mean, besides a hypercomptent genius-artist-wizard who held the threads of fate in the palm of their hands. Here, wounded, tended to by Azar, Vossari felt a vulnerability that they often didn't show. So who was he, really? The tender alchemist who had just treated Azar's wounds, or the foolish acolyte who had literally just blown himself up? "Me? I'm an experience, Azar." They giggled, lightly, each chuckle bringing more pain into their lungs.

"Same question." Who was Azar? The cynical professor, Potion Master Kressh? The being of rage and spite that had pinned Vossari to the wall and tossed him to the side? Or, was this Azar; a gentle touch and a playful attitude? My, the Sith were all so full of such contradictions. This was their truth, and it was their fuel. "Who are you?"

@Sreeya

 

[Darth Arcanos]

Azar rolled his eyes at Vossari’s words, “That you are,” He said in agreement. He wasn’t sure he had come across another Sith that was so…loud. In personality, in voice, in actions, in every aspect. It was the exact contrast to Azar’s icy calm. He heard the acolyte chuckle and then likely wince in pain.

He was finally done with the salve, Vossari’s back already looking far better than before. Azar stepped away, still wincing from his own injuries. Vossari’s question lingered on his mind, a grin forming, “Perhaps I am exactly what you believe I am not,” His gaze lingered on the Wrean for a moment, but he didn’t elaborate further.

Azar took off the oversized hoodie, giving it back to Vossari, “It will protect your skin...thank you for letting me use,” He explained. This left Azar with his torso bare and with the crude bandages, but he was built for intense heat and the fires nearby didn’t bother him too much.

“With the rebels demolished, we only need to inform the Wroonian council that their problem is resolved..and they will then welcome Sith,” Azar explained, “This planet, Saleucami…very strategic for Sith Order as central trade and economical hub,” He was never above teaching, even if he found present company to be alluring in more ways than one.

@Fine Dining Set

 

[Vossari Khaldun]

Reluctantly, the wrean acolyte slipped back into their massive, drab hoodie. Vossari was still covered in sweat, wounded. As was his Sith companion - his teacher. They sighed as Azar spoke, their head ringing from the explosion and their back tinged with pain. "All I know, there better be a big kriffing payoff when this all wraps up." With a groan, they steadied themself on Azar and rose there their feet. "I'm thinking seaweed gel and salt scrubs. Spa day?" He said, mischievously.

A twinkle grew in his eye as he began to hobble out of the woods with Azar. "Word has spread about Zygerria. How a certain Sith coterie turned the Zygerrians from allies to pawns in an instant." They snapped their fingers to illustrate the point. "We've done their dirty work, so we win a seat at their table." That much was obvious - some of the lesser beings viewed the Sith as a deniable asset, a weapon to crush their enemies.

Their lack of vision would be their demise. His grin followed his twinkling eyes - even now, pained, tired, he had a desire to finish strong. "They need to do more than welcome us. They need to kiss the fucking ground that we stand on." The Sith were meant to be demons and gods, not another political faction to rise and fall like the Republic. They were a primordial force as far as Vossari was concerned - born with the birth of the universe itself. "What's the play to turn them from friends to servants?" They batted their big, brown eyes at Azar, waiting expectantly for the senior Sith's response.

They looked around their surroundings - smoke rose from the burning trees, and rebel soldiers gripped their throats as poison ate at their insides. It was a beautiful scene of carnage, but... "And, uh, how should we get there?"

@Sreeya

 

[Darth Arcanos]

Azar gazed at him in confusion, “What is spa?” He asked curiously. What was seaweed for that matter? Why would there be weeds in the sea? His spiral of thoughts continued as they walked. The thought of large oceans terrified Azar and he couldn’t imagine getting into the water to obtain weeds from it. What a horrifying thought.

As Vossari started to ramble once more, Azar listened initially. His exploits on Zygerria spread like rumors across the entire Sith Order. Some of the details were muddied, but the almost legendary outcome was shared around. He wondered if the acolyte knew it was Azar who led the charge. Regardless of what Vossari thought, all the blabbering was grating on the Champion. Vossari barely got to his question before Azar acted.

He grabbed Vossari by the throat and shoved him back into a tree, moving in close to glare at them, “You talk a lot. Big words, big ideas, act like you top of the galaxy,” Azar said icily. His other hand casually reached down unapologetically gripped Vossari in a very sensitive place, “Do you know how to turn people into servants? You always have a hold of these,” He said, a cruel grin on his face as he looked into that beautiful, terrified face, “Zygerrian queen was crawling on her hands and knees before she executed her entire council. Because I had her by these. I had her life in my hands,” Azar leaned in close, letting Vossari gaze into those primal, yellow eyes, “You will think very carefully about your next move when I have these in my hand, yes?”

Azar finally released Vossari and stepped away, entirely and utterly unapologetic. There was even an amused look on his face as he kept walking, “It will take time to bring the planet fully under Sith,” He declared, “So we begin with Wroonian council,” He stated as he glanced over at one of the transport sheds.

“Can you operate that?” It was a speeder bike that was meant for hovering over and navigating through the swamps.

@Fine Dining Set

 

[Vossari Khaldun]

Pinned to the wall twice in one night by the Sith superior. He could get used to this. If only it wasn't so painful. They sputtered and coughed, momentarily, after Azar released them - but their smile remained. Vossari saw the lesson, even if it was directed at their expense. They adjusted themself upon release, belatedly musing to themselves about the last time someone had them by the proverbial balls.

"Understood, Potionmaster." His tone continued to carry that hint of mockery, but his use of title was an obvious deference to the champion. Grab them by the balls...they guessed that wouldn't be possible until the Wroonian Council was within arms reach, at least. Best to finish this off. They both needed medics, anyways.

Vossari's pained smile grew to a grin when they saw the speeder bike. They thought of their own, on Nar Shadda; large, yellow, swift. "Hell yeah I can operate that." He flashed his pearly whites back to Azar as he inspected the bikes, mounting it and patting a space behind themself gently. "Hold on tight." They annunciated each word, drawing it out slowly to savor it.

They kickstarted the speeder bike to life and the engine roared. Moments later, they were zipping through the swamps of Saleucami towards the homes of the affluent Wroonian Council. While the resistance operated out of shacks deep in the swamp, the Wroonian dictatorship lived in elegant, palatial homes amongst in an oasis, where fresh water flowed resplendently and the ruling glass sauntered through heavily-guarded streets. The pair of them approached a gate in this massive complex, which appeared to be a modern military base with an organized military.

A blue-skinned gendarme, clothed in tan military uniform and beret, regarded the two of them as they slowed to a stop. She pulled down her sunglasses to reveal piercing, yellow eyes. "Hold. What's your business with the Wroonian Council?"

@Sreeya [/abox3]

 

[Darth Arcanos]

There was a subtle glint in his eye that matched the hint of mockery in Vossari’s tone. It was a quiet warning that if the Wrean tried that again, they would likely have their very real balls removed. Nevertheless, the acolyte had saved Azar’s life, so he was allowed a bit more leeway for now.

When Vossari hopped on the speeder bike, Azar was perplexed and looking around for a separate place to sit. Very soon, he grimaced and moved in behind the other Sith, still failing to find a way to stay seated. It was only when Vossari kicked off without warning that Azar gasped and instinctively grabbed a hold of the acolyte, his arms tightly wrapping around the Wrean’s frame.

“Why so..fast?” Azar asked, clearly uncomfortable. He squeezed his eyes shut at some point, not daring to look around himself. Technology and going fast were not his forte, and Vossari was especially reckless. Azar had a vice-like grip on them and they’d feel as if they’re being slowly squeezed to death.

Fortunately, they arrived at their destination soon enough and Azar practically leapt off the bike. He gazed at the woman in the uniform and he wasn’t fazed by her suspicious demeanor. Azar sighed, “I don’t have time for this..” He muttered to himself in ur-Kittat before giving a lazy wave of the Force. The woman’s eyes glazed over and she turned on her heel, leading them towards the interior of the building.

They were soon across a female Wroonian diplomat, along with several of her staff. She eyed the Sith’s state of attire with curiosity before greeting them.

“We are what remains of the Sith delegation that was sent to meet with you today,” Azar explained, watching her eyes grow wide with surprise, “Needless to say, you will not have rebel problem anymore,” He said as he tossed onto her desk the helmet of the rebel leader from the forest.

@Fine Dining Set

 

[Vossari Khaldun]

The diplomat's piercing, purple eyes followed from the fallen hat up to the Sith that had dropped it. A smile, somewhere between bemused and awed, grew thinly on her lips. Her diplomatic staff sat even-faced, all eyes on her. "My army reported a massive fire and explosion, from the swamps where those bastards had built themselves a fortress." She gestured to seats at the table to sit at - and snapped her fingers for an attendant of hers to go grab some fresh water for the pair.

Vossari sat quickly and drank thirstily, the adrenaline of this escapade now having given way to pure exhaustion. They needed to rest, and soon. As they reclined, the diplomat continued to speak. "Well, I suppose that I must apologize for our horrid hospitality. We were meant to meet far earlier than this. Your delegation was meant to be received here, not in the field." Her tone remained even, along with her smile. Both the practiced tactics of a cool, collected diplomat. She noted Azar's bandages, and the general roughness of both of their looks. "Summon a medical droid."

She poured herself a glass of water - adding some tropical jungle fruit to her own glass - as she continued. "You have done a great service for us. How can this be repaid?"

Vossari opened their mouth to speak instantly, but shot a glance at Azar and shut up. Surely, the senior Sith would not respond well to him blathering. Vossari remembered their previous interaction - grab them by the balls. How could they use this opportunity to seize power? "We've done more than a service eligible for repayment. We have dealt entirely with your world's resistance army." In some ways, this left them with less leverage. Why would the Sith stay on the planet with the resistance defeated? Vossari thought back to the city - back to the protests - before he had encountered Azar at all. They looked, cautiously, towards Azar before continuing. They recognized the significance of this moment, and did not want to overstep their own role as a (fleshy, killable, weak) acolyte. "But resistance remains. In the cities, your people still protest your rule. Until dissent is quashed in the people's hearts, new resistance will form. And you will remain unable to defeat it alone. That is where we enter." Vossari gestured towards themself and Azar.

The diplomat scanned Vossari up-and-down for a moment, before turning back to Azar. "And, what do you say to this? Does this one speak for you?" She opted to deal with the obvious elder of the two - even if he was shirtless and covered in makeshift bandages.

@Sreeya

 

[Darth Arcanos]

Azar kept a calm demeanor as the diplomat spoke. Unlike Vossari, he didn’t immediately reach for his drink. The Pureblood instead waved a hand over his drink, the liquid swirling around and shifting briefly before he finally took a sip. The diplomat found the little gesture unsettling, but Azar wanted her to know exactly what she was dealing with and the price of crossing them. It was just another foundational layer atop which to build their influence base.

Vossari opened their mouth and Azar glanced at them. The acolyte had the respect to keep their mouth shut and Azar ultimately gave a nod for them to proceed. The yellow gaze remained on the diplomat as Vossari spoke, Azar’s face impassive on his opinions of Vossari’s points. The woman turned to Azar.

“If words have merit, does it matter who they come from?” He challenged the woman calmly. The Wroonian cleared her throat, slightly flustered at having that thrown back at her. She tapped her nails on the desk for a moment.

“You do make an excellent point,” She said, now her focus on Vossari, “There are several compounds and bases that we’ve cleared out from prior rebel activity. The Sith would be welcome there. Thank you for this great service.”

She reached over to shake each of their hands. Vossari would catch the slightest hint of fear in her eye as she shook their hand and they would have to decide how that made them feel.

@Fine Dining Set

 

[Vossari Khaldun]

Vossari caught the subtle display of Azar's power. There was an artfulness to it, to the method he used to intimidate these people. They feared the Force. Whether or not they would admit it, they feared the Sith. Their organization was an uncontrollable asset wielding the powers of the Force and the universe itself. They were mysterious and unnerving. Like a shark smelled a drop of blood, Vossari caught her fear in an instant.

A smile crept to his lips. Vossari had watched Azar use the power of mental manipulation earlier, many times, to deal with challenges throughout their time on . With a wave of the hand, a wiggle of the fingers, Vossari felt that fear and amplified it, pulling it from her subconscious towards her conscious mind. They did not suggest anything horrible, or torture the diplomat; no, they kept it far simpler. Touched by the power of the Dark Side, the diplomat would feel the room to grow colder and colder while Azar and Vossari's shadows stretched into frightening, contorted shades. From her perspective, the light of the room narrowed, until all she could see was Vossari and Azar, their sets of eyes hungry.

"I see...darkness engulfing your world. Any who resist are consumed by shadow." Their eyes glared daggers as they circled the diplomat, hands dancing as they spoke. "This is the future we promise." They coiled their fingers into a fist, cutting the mental manipulation short as they shifted their focus to the helmet. It levitated, pointedly, before slamming into the table with a resounding, iron thud. A reminder of what happened to those who opposed the Sith.

He turned once more to the diplomatic staff as he and Azar made their exit. "As we have shown great loyalty to your cause, so to do we expect loyalty to ours." Vossari strode out with Azar, finishing their water with a smile. When they made it down the steps, back to their bike, they leaned back and started into the cloud-swept horizon.

Their tone softened, as they pressed back into the bike."Azar." His life had been saved twice by this Sith. A pureblood - one of the true inheritors of the legacy of their shared Order. More than that, the potion-master was a careful and intuitive teacher. Vossari's full, brown lips parted to reveal a small smile. "I know I owe you one for everything." Their fingers traced Azar's shoulder, following the long, jagged writings of his tattoos. Their eyes softened as they found the courage to meet his exacting gaze. "I'm going to repay you for this." Thank you.

@Sreeya