Ask Children of the Grave

[Darth Stolas]

The Sith on Eriadu had their own little base, and although it was far more subtle than the massive fortress complex on nearby Sullust it was quite functional. It almost blended in with the other corporate buildings and contained its own hangar complex and various facilities. After Morgan had taken his Darth title he'd claimed a section nearest that hangar complex for his own use, drawing men and resources to his own ends. Storm squadron itself made its home there composed of pilots he'd picked himself to fly the Starblade fighters he'd acquired. They were proving effective in their role.

For the moment Stolas was sitting behind his desk sorting through recon reports and intelligence of planets both near and far from Sith space. Malicia had recently retaken old Sith space across the galaxy and an office was being set up there as well and while he would continue to assist on that side, his personal ambitions were centered around Sullust. It helped that he'd garnered attention through aggressive and effective starship actions. No one questioned his taking of the office.

He even had a guard outside his office and his own secretary who also kept in frequent contact with Eriadu air control. This would be the person Malicia would find first when she showed up, a stoic faced an professional young woman who was clearly by now used to the frequent presence of Sith. The Dark Council member would be let through easily enough and guided to Morgan's office.

@Dread

 

[Darth Malicia]

As usual, Malicia stepped off her ship with cultists in toe. Right as she left the ramp she half-turned, motioning to either side of the ships door. The two fell in line, leaving her alone with Stolas' secretary. The woman was met with Malicia's default expression. A mostly empty one, though she was struggling to maintain it because she knew the subject had the ability to completely shatter whatever amount of calm she could achieve.

She was lead down the halls towards the Darth. The most she knew about him was from his reputation. If the subject was more secret she wouldn't be here, but she made no secret of it. Once lead into the room Malicia considered pleasantries, something she wasn't good at unless it was in specific settings with specific types of people she was trained to interact with. Still she spoke a, "Stolas" and stared at him for a moment so he could get his out of the way.

She wasn't going to waste either of their time. Without warning she brought her hand up. Not towards him but up so her wrist was pointing towards the man. He wouldn't sense any ill intentions from her as she pulled at her sleeve, allowing it to slip far enough to to show the brand on her arm. The one she was given by her Cadre-Masters.

"My siblings and I were each branded with this," Malicia said, uncaring if he regarded her as lesser after. She was proudly Cadre, even if, in reality, it was a slave brand. "And raised in a facility with it on every banner, every significant device, every coat, and yet I cannot find a trace of the company the logo belonged to. Is investigating this type of phenomenon within your skill set?"

@Mr. Teatime

 

[Darth Stolas]

Stolas was wearing his distinctive armour, although without the helmet, mantle, or armoured jacket. The crimson tunic beneath and the vambraces were all that remained. He was working at the moment and the attire was more familiar to many than his standard clothing but wearing full armour would have been inconvenient.

Sharp golden eyes looked up as Malicia entered the office and briefly looked her over, settling on the pale woman's face. He blinked once.

"Malicia," he said with a small nod of the head. He leaned back from his desk and settled comfortably in his chair, both hands crossing overtop the table. Those same eyes followed the lines of Malicia's movement toward her wrist and watched the sleeve move back as she began to explanation.

Morgan was listening, of course, and he heard her words well. But his gaze locked on that single little brand with laser focus. He recognized the marking, but it was the woman's elaboration that connected bits and pieces of information the young Sith already possessed. For a moment he was quiet and still, expression pensive.

The shift to furious was sudden, like flicking a switch. Silver deepened across his visible skin and the gold in his eyes flashed brighter. It was not hate that drove his powers when he worked but it was a deep and personal hate that burned in him now, not directed at Malicia but rather toward the origin of that brand on her wrist. If Morgan had hackles they'd be raised, razor fangs flashing for a moment in a vicious snarl, iron fingers gripping the durable table enough for the wood to creak in protest.

It was drawn back after a few moments but the young Lord's face was clearly still coloured in that same hate, the bright coals of it smoldering beneath the surface. His eyes didn't leave the brand for an extra second before moving back to Malicia's face. When he spoke his voice was almost a growl, deep and rumbling through his chest.

"It is. The name?"

@Dread

 

[Darth Malicia]

Her eyes opened slightly more at the Lords display of anger, a slip in her expression. It wasn't a slip she'd hold herself accountable for considering no one had ever reacted so strongly when she spoke of the Cadre.

Even a Jedi Master had shown a very brief, shallow reaction, followed shortly after by mocking her and by extent mocking her siblings. Of course she did not hold the reactions against them. They were not Cadre so obviously they did not care.

Though that lead her back to his odd reaction. Lowering her arm, she slid her sleeve down and considered something. "The Cadre Cooperation," she answered despite the odd reaction, and she had a reason. Yellow eyes that matched his own locked onto him, watching him. "The facility is still standing... for the most part. A fresh pair of eyes there might garner a lead," she added.

A large chunk of the building sustained major damage from her fight with the Jedi. At least it hadn't downed the entire building. Most importantly, her siblings resting place had not been disturbed or destroyed. Though for a moment she considered what might happen if she allowed the Lord and his men to go there alone. "I'll lead you there."

Now that that was laid out, he'd be able to see a hint of concern grow in her gaze, "But there is something I need to know first. Do you harbour anger towards someone with this branding?" she asked, turning her head slightly as her eyes narrowed. It was the first guess she had to explain his reaction. "In all my time searching for answers, no one has ever had the reaction you have."

@Mr. Teatime

 

[Darth Stolas]

Morgan immediately committed the given name and details to memory. He had potential leads of his own to follow but would leave them for after this facility Malicia had mentioned. Golden eyes that burned quite unlike their usual sharpness watched her right back, even if that fire behind them wasn't actually for her.

His head tilted slightly as he considered her question and bemusement mixed with the obvious anger on his face. "It is for the brander, not the branded," Stolas clarified with a more controlled tone of voice. The brand was not the only mark to be answered for, even if not all of them were exactly visible on the man he loved. The Firrerreo had made threats once toward certain people and now he was relatively sure what group they belonged to. His gaze flicked to her arm, now covered, then back to her face, eyes narrowing slightly."

"Hunting or finding?" An important question. Morgan had very specific and detailed cruelties he deeply desired to deliver to these brand wielders. Each lash would be repaid tenfold, every injury met with absolute and furious vengeance. Limbs would be torn from sockets and guts would be ripped out and used to strangle their owners. His hate focused his fury well to a razor's edge and in his eyes it was quite transparent.

The Cadre-masters had been named and the young Lord would only hunt with the intent to wipe them from the face of the galaxy.

Steadily the silver in his skin faded in intensity back toward it's normal nearly unnoticeable hue and his expression reset to it's usual sharpness. "When do we leave?"

@Dread

 

[Darth Malicia]

For the brander? That clicked. At least, it made sense to a degree she trusted. He had something against the company owner, or owners, aka the last Cadre-master or masters. He was not Cadre but he could dislike their masters for other reasons.

Her mood had been on the edge, though mostly stable until his question made her expression switch in a single click. There was no doubt that held her back because the reaction was gut.

The entire room grew icy cold and her voice dropped several octaves. "Hunting," she confirmed with a deep, guttural rasp.

Nothing more needed to be said beyond that. The day she found out who the last Cadre-master was she was uncertain if she'd have memory of it after. Everything might be engulfed by red until the master took his or her last breath.

It took a few seconds of her lingering gaze before she reign herself back. "Whenever you're ready," she answered his next question. Malicia pulled out a datapad from her pocket and proffered it to the Lord. "Coordinates to the planet," she explained, referring to Abafar. "I'll provide the facility coordinates once we get to the planet."

@Mr. Teatime

 

[Darth Stolas]

The young Sith slid his chair from his desk and stood to his full height. Malicia's answers had been good enough to work with her on the matter of the Cadre. Other details were put together into something that made sense in his head and he felt no need to speak further. It was time to work.

Slender fingers took the extended datapad and Morgan looked down at it, eyes narrowing slightly at the planet in question. The Firrerreo was not terribly fond of deserts. But he supposed it was a good place to hide a training facility and he'd just have to bring appropriate gear and attire. Golden eyes returned to Malicia after a few second, now returned to their usual analytical glint.

Morgan depressed a button on his desk.

"Prepare my ship," he said and received an affirmatory whistle in reply before cutting the line. The young Sith retrieved a pair of gloves from a desk drawer and slipped them on and then started going through a durasteel armoire for personal gear and spare weaponry. The items were placed in a gear bag hefted over his right shoulder and, unless there was some other delay, Stolas would make his way to the hangar complex.

The hangars themselves were run significantly by droids augmented by organic personnel, including the guards. Two of the Storm squadron pilots emerged from a side door that lead to their barracks and approached a pair of starblade fighters to prepare them for takeoff. Morgan spared a brief glance toward the cultists standing outside Malicia's yacht but paid them no further attention, heading directly for his Kathol courier.

Crew had by now handled moving a footlocker of armour and things aboard, including the rest of Stolas' armour and Deneb security droids. Morgan clearly had no intention of traveling aboard the Ragnarok.

@Dread

 

[Darth Malicia]

Malicia didn't bother to add anything when Stolas accepted the datapad and ordered his ship prepared. The two had accepted working with one another, for now, and so things were going ahead.

She turned and left his room. Never expecting him to come on her ship, nor desiring another occupant on it. Her cultists waited for her to return, turning and following her as she made her way on her ship.

The hum of the engine helped Malicia fall into a deep meditation. Per Darth Andruil recommendation, she put aside time for the activity. Though it was her choice to meditate daily, she knew that not drove her near crazy. An experience she'd gotten on Moraband. If she did not focus on maintaining control, the spirits within her always tried to take advantage of it. They were powerful, as she was, and subjugation in some form was required.

She meditated not just to remain in power, but the last time she was on this planet she'd lost control of herself.

----Abafar, the Cadre Facility----

Sand swirled around her feet as her boots sunk into its embrace. The shadowless planet and the odd way light bent on it was something she noted the first time she stepped outside the facility. It went deeply underground and she was never allowed on the upper levels.

She'd sent Stolas the location, though only after she put herself into place. He probably followed her and found out before she even sent the coordinates, though that likely tipped him off about how she regarded the location. If it didn't, it didn't matter because she knew she'd need to speak to him before they entered.

Malicia waited for Stolas to land and till he was close enough for her to speak. Her eyes remained on the facility at first. "There is a mortuary on lower levels that I do not want anyone to enter," she said plainly. Very rarely did she exercise her rank above Lords who weren't within her sphere. This time she had no choice but to. "Except perhaps you, if I accompany you."

Her yellows eyes turned to him. She doubted he understood this in any form, but everything in her eyes, her expression, pointed not just to a warning but a simple, cold fact, "I cannot guarantee how I will act if that line is crossed." It was simply a truth she'd discovered during her investigations.

@Mr. Teatime

 

[Darth Stolas]

Stolas and his courier landed not long after Malicia had, the paired Starblade escort separating as he came in spreading out to circle slowly around the area with scanners active. The young Lord stepped down the ramp and looked around behind his helmet now that he was in his full and distinctive armour. The lack of shadows was briefly interesting but he moved on quickly enough to meet up with the councilor while a pair of Deneb droids planted themselves on either side of the ramp.

The only real indication he was actually listening to her speak was the way his helmet was slightly turned in her direction, his visor instead facing the facility. It moved an a couple centimeters more toward her for a moment and then back again after her statement about her behavior.

"Very well," the helmet's modulator said breezily, voice distorted but tone and inflection kept intact unlike some other helmets. Morgan wouldn't consider a pile of dead the first source of information to look through in the first place. His visor lifted slightly to look at the upper levels of the facility, the far more likely place for such information aside from some sort of vault.

Stolas turned to look at Malicia after several quiet seconds. "I suggest clearing from the top down."

@Dread