Ask Bump In The Night

[Darth Arcanos]

Azar was making bigger moves in the galaxy and working towards claiming the Stygian Caldera for himself. With the key planets in the fold, it was only a matter of time before he could establish his own empire there. He was an intelligent man - so he knew the bigger his impact, the larger the target on his back. Azar knew that Tempest had gone to confront Raze’s followers and had yet to return from that encounter. Though he was powerful, he wouldn’t act against them unless it was absolutely necessary. Raze’s followers were composed of some of the most powerful Sith in the galaxy, and they were far more ruthless than Tempest’s Order.

The Pureblood’s interests were not so much on the followers as much as their mechanics. Raze used alchemy in a way that Azar hadn’t learned, and it fascinated him. While the Raze followers were dormant for now, Azar knew it was the perfect time to snoop around. He found himself not on Coruscant, but on Onderon. Some of the poorer districts on the planet had street urchins he could mentally manipulate to get enough intel to seek out a forge.

Raze’s followers allegedly had Forgemasters that were tasked with creating abominations. With everyone focused on the politics around choosing a new royal figure, few were chasing down hideouts of Raze that dotted the planet or the shards that Raze was known to possess when he died. Azar had intel that a Forge was located far away from any of the cities, deep in the jungles.

His path led him to a sleepy little village on the edge of the dark, sinister forest. The locals were largely ignored by the city government, left to fend for themselves. Azar could see crude spikes and makeshift blocks to fend off against beasts. It was a moonless night and the first drops of rain began to fall.

Azar manipulated his way past the gate, making his way towards a tavern. Despite the location, the locals were accustomed to a wide variety of races. He wore unremarkable clothing, the hood of his cloak down to reveal his refined features and neatly tied hair.

@Altaris

 

[Cyrus Veruna]

Though he’d never openly admit it, Cyrus couldn’t quell the anxiety that came with the summons of Darth Arcanos. For months, the Acolyte had largely flown under the radar amongst Tempest’s Order - spending his days deep within the Umbara Academy and its extensive archives. It was the first time he’d been requested for a mission offworld, and no less from one of the most infamous Sith Lords within their ranks. Despite the prestige, there were enough stories about the former Potion-master to make him nervous, and left the Acolyte frankly convinced that he was going to be sacrificed to some tentacle demon before the end of the day.

Despite the high security of the planet, Cyrus managed to sneak his way through without too much difficulty - tipping off a local merchant to be smuggled in the back of a fruit wagon. Despite his irritation, the Acolyte had even less desire to be suspected or arrested on a planet controlled by Raze’s followers.

Or to earn himself the ire of Arcanos, for that matter.

Security had long-since begun to dissipate outside the walls of Iziz, allowing the Acolyte to lower his guard ever-so-slightly as he approached the sleepy little village. The first droplets of rain were enough to bring the ill-fitting hood of his cloak over the upper hemisphere of his face, each droplet balling up and rolling down the sides of the fabric - barely visible against the dim, moonless night. It was peaceful, or so it would be, were the wilds of Onderon not so infamously lethal. Without a lightsaber yet to call his own, Cyrus carried instead only a vibroblade strapped across his back to defend himself.

“Hell of a place..” Cyrus muttered to himself, moving to approach the little tavern that Arcanos’ had spoken off. He didn’t miss the sideways glances and lingering stares from the locals - most of whom were almost certainly curious to see anyone visiting their remote village. Rather than leave himself open to questions, Cyrus quickly slipped inside the establishment - brown eyes sweeping the room for several, long moments.

Fortunately, the man he was looking for wasn’t difficult to locate.

There was no mistaking the beautiful, crimson features - immediately drawing the Acolytes gaze and guiding his feet towards the table at the far side of the room. Slipping past a few tables, Cyrus paused directly to the left of Arcanos, offering the Sith Lord an immediate dip of his head. ”“My lord," He said quietly, eyes flicking towards the seat to join Arcanos at the table. "Might I join you?"

Perhaps he’d manage to order himself a drink before being sacrificed.

 

[Darth Arcanos]

Azar normally preferred working alone, but he decided to invite an acolyte along because nobody cared if they died. If he managed to get on the trail of a shard, he wouldn’t have to worry about an acolyte trying to take it. If he came across the alchemy forge and Azar whimsically decided he wanted to practice on an acolyte, that was fine.

He glanced over when the acolyte entered the tavern, looking befuddled and obvious as if he didn’t belong here. Azar rolled his eyes, catching the boy gawking at him before he walked over. The Sith Lord was sipping from a glass of wine, “You may as well be walking in naked with a neon sign with how painfully obvious you are,” He said dryly to the acolyte, “Discretion is key while we are here,” He mused.

Azar looked around at the patrons - all old and dreary civilians that had nothing going for them. Wouldn’t something like Raze be enticing to such dull, directionless wretches? The Sith Lord fixed his gaze back on the acolyte, “After storms ease off, we will go through the forests to find a camp,” Azar said, “What do you know of Raze, acolyte?”

@Altaris

 

[Cyrus Veruna]

Cyrus wasn’t positive about what to expect from the infamous Sith Lord - and ultimately couldn’t help but pause like a Bantha in headlights when Arcanos glanced over the rim of his wine glass to speak. The Acolyte blinked a few times, his own brown eyes scanning the crowd once more whilst being criticized for his botched attempt at subtlety. “Hmph. They should be so lucky,” Cyrus said dryly in response to the suggestion of walking in naked, shrugging ever-so-slightly.

Cyrus wasn’t the least bit concerned about a tavern filled with low class and drunkards, the latter whom were certain to forget the faces of damn-near everyone by the end of the night. The rest weren’t particularly interesting and painfully dreary. Certainly not the type to raise alarm bells, within his own arrogant mind. The Acolyte took one final look at the table before pulling the chair closest to him outward, dusting off the seat before plopping himself in it.

With both arms knitted against the table, Cyrus stared back at the Pureblood - pondering the question presented. The knowledge they wouldn’t be trekking through some insufferable storm was, though he didn’t vocalize such, a relief.

“He was.. Dark Lord of the Sith, within Andruil’s Empire. One of, if not the, most powerful Sith Lords of our time.” Cyrus stared back at Arcanos, fidgeting ever-so-slightly with the leather gloves that perpetually kept his hands covered. His knowledge was limited, but there were few souls who didn’t know Raze by name. “Creator of the Exalted and countless other abominations. It was his followers that conquered Coruscant, Onderon and Nixor. Until he was slain on Ossus.”

“Raze is legend amongst Sith. He is terrifying. He–”

The Acolyte paused only as a tavern-worker approached their table - a tray balanced in one hand, keeping another glass of red wine upright as she walked. “For you,” She said smoothly, placing the crystal glass down beside Arcanos with a clink. Her attention promptly flicked to Cyrus.

“And for you?”

“Corellian Whiskey,” Cyrus said, offering the woman a polite smile.

“Coming right up,” She said with a wave of her hand, pausing in place for a moment to observe the Acolyte. “Quite the accent. Nabooian, I take it?”

Cyrus couldn’t help the way that his polite smile faded at once. Perhaps.. Arcanos had a point. “Visiting for a few days.” The Acolyte said - unable to hide the hint of tension that laced his voice. Something about being so easily identified that put the Acolyte on edge. The barmaid, to her credit, didn’t seem to notice. Or said nothing if she did.

“Then I hope you’ll enjoy Onderon as much as the rest of us.” She tilted her head, smile tugging upwards a bit too much before she turned back towards the bar. “Let me get you that whiskey.”

@Sreeya

 

[Darth Arcanos]

The acolyte had an annoyingly high opinion of himself. It wasn’t enough to make Azar snap his neck just yet, but he was certainly inching close. The barmaid nailed his accent right away, Azar trying to hide a grimace. If Cyrus looked, he would see her eyes very briefly glaze over before she looked around slightly confused and returned to work. It was a very subtle manipulation of the Force in her mind to dash any thoughts she had of repeating or discussing anything about an ISC citizen on this planet.

“There are rumors of a forge deep in the woods,” Azar explained once they were alone again, “You will assist me in seeking it out. The forge is one to craft the creatures that his followers have unleashed on these worlds,” He said little else on the topic. Azar had no other questions for the acolyte because he didn’t care. The man was an object to use in some shape or form and if he didn’t prove useful, Azar would dispose of him.

The door to the tavern opened and several burly men walked in with heavy boots, armed to the teeth with crude weapons such as crossbows. They were drenched from the rain but seemed unconcerned, walking over to plop down at the bar.

“Another rough night, huh?” The barmaid asked as she poured them all drinks.

“Just when we think we’ve seen the last of these monsters..” The largest man said with a grimace, “Two came right against the perimeters. Almost got Ollie,” He said, shaking his head, “It never ends. And fuckin’ Iziz is just concerned about crowning their next prissy ass king instead of giving a shit about us folks.”

“Preach!” Several patrons called out. Azar remained silent, taking note of all this information to file away for later.

“Well hello, ain’t seen you around before,” One of the men said, turning to Cyrus with a leery gaze.

@Altaris

 

[Cyrus Veruna]

Cyrus couldn’t mask the look of discomfort that immediately set across his expression. The Acolyte wasn’t convinced that the barmaid had merely guessed Naboo as a coincidence - nor was he convinced her intentions were at all benign. Before he could scramble for a solution, however, Cyrus watched the eyes of the same barmaid glaze over. The pulse through the Force was palpable - a subtle but unmistakable current of power that set his senses ablaze. It didn’t take him long to connect the dots - brown eyes briefly flicking to regard the Sith Lord.

It was impressive. It was terrifying. And it was all the effortless strength and skill that Cyrus envisioned for himself the very first time he stepped foot within the Umbara Academy. As far as he was convinced, it was what he deserved.

He didn’t question if the woman would be a problem later. Instead, Cyrus moved right along to the situation that Azar presented. A forge? The Acolyte wasn’t going to pretend he knew the first thing about Alchemy or the magick that it took to create.. Whatever Raze had created. But if the High Arcanist of the Order was searching for such a relic, one could only assume what his goal might be.

“If there is such a Forge.. The remaining followers of Raze would be loath to lose access. Wouldn’t they?” He stared back at Azar. “Anything to maintain their power. It would be well-guarded and secure, no matter how deep in the jungle it is located.” He tapped his fingers. “Couldn’t we just.. Follow a pattern of activity? Where sightings and packs of monsters are the densest?”

Cyrus allowed his question to linger in the air for a long moment - allowing Azar to respond while the band of monster-hunters filtered into the establishment. His eyes flicked between their crude weapons and otherwise dilapidated appearance, leaving little mystery how their night had gone - even without the question from the barmaid. For the second time that night, Cyrus found himself singled out by the locals - eyes narrowing at once.

“Han,” Cyrus said from across the bar, jutting his chin in greeting. “Just passing through the area for business. Jojan season and all,” He said - barely containing the irritation that came with passing himself off as a fruit merchant. As fucking if.

He gestured to the setting around them. “Certainly beats dealing with the pompous fucks in Iziz, nevermind the weather.” His gaze flicked towards the rest of them - attempting to make any note of damage to their crude armor or weapons. “Things out here are gettin worse, ain’t they?” He asked, probing for any bit of information.