Per my new OP template, thread is death enabled. Intrigue thread with 48 hour posting windows, open to one member as opposition. Non-opposition please refrain from joining or message me first before joining.
Varyn was upset. The strike on Yavin had been a success, but it didn't feel like much of a success for the Sith Champion. It just felt like... being a pawn. Anger, spite, and resentment had grown within him over the weeks since he had recovered from his injuries. It had been a slow process, and it hadn't been met with anything even remotely happy.
His request - again - to become a blademaster (this time at Ziost) had been denied, and with its denial, he found himself feeling like he was floundering. He'd betrayed the Jedi and everything he'd stood for once to come to the Sith, and yet he'd run into a brick wall. No amount of telling himself that he'd have done the same thing in their position made him feel even a lick better. And the resentment had grown.
So he did what he did best: through himself into work. He didn't need the idiots teaching in the academy. No one had sniffed him out when he was under them, which spoke either to their incompetence or his skill at blending in and overcoming. Or perhaps both.
So the type of work he'd returned to was what he knew best: intelligence and infiltration. And reviewing and creating plans was something you could do in a hospital bed.
The planet Bilbringi had long been on the Empire's and the ISB's radar ever since one of its operatives by the callsign "Wraith" had evidently failed to bring it in. Well, if they couldn't bring it in, then they'd raze it to the ground. Time would tell.
For this time, however, Varyn was operating mostly on his own. In truth, it was better this way. A small ISB team had infiltrated the station under his command - another test he assumed - but one that would benefit his mission. The mission parameters had been constructed by him, and were his to tamper with as he saw fit. It was not so different from the mission he'd planned against Sluis Van except this time it was for the Empire.
Wearing his covert armor with his sabers and gear tucked away and several slicing tools added to the mix, he'd gone to work finding what he was looking for.
His request - again - to become a blademaster (this time at Ziost) had been denied, and with its denial, he found himself feeling like he was floundering. He'd betrayed the Jedi and everything he'd stood for once to come to the Sith, and yet he'd run into a brick wall. No amount of telling himself that he'd have done the same thing in their position made him feel even a lick better. And the resentment had grown.
So he did what he did best: through himself into work. He didn't need the idiots teaching in the academy. No one had sniffed him out when he was under them, which spoke either to their incompetence or his skill at blending in and overcoming. Or perhaps both.
So the type of work he'd returned to was what he knew best: intelligence and infiltration. And reviewing and creating plans was something you could do in a hospital bed.
The planet Bilbringi had long been on the Empire's and the ISB's radar ever since one of its operatives by the callsign "Wraith" had evidently failed to bring it in. Well, if they couldn't bring it in, then they'd raze it to the ground. Time would tell.
For this time, however, Varyn was operating mostly on his own. In truth, it was better this way. A small ISB team had infiltrated the station under his command - another test he assumed - but one that would benefit his mission. The mission parameters had been constructed by him, and were his to tamper with as he saw fit. It was not so different from the mission he'd planned against Sluis Van except this time it was for the Empire.
Wearing his covert armor with his sabers and gear tucked away and several slicing tools added to the mix, he'd gone to work finding what he was looking for.
