Logged: April 19, 2001 Logged by: Shi Keltis Titled: Tresspassing ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Characters: Malus Sa'Vath Shi Keltis Y'Thagriel Vasseris Malatest Aris Lorn Cahir Tra'Koth Sa'Vath appears at the entrance of the Training Complex, his cloak blowing in the breeze. As you gaze at this individual a dark aura is almost visible as it shimmers around him. The air seems to almost darken as this individual slowly, gracefully walks into the courtyard. He slowly stalks into the central parade ground and slowly turns his head gazing around the grounds. Keltis shakes his head at the younger officers surrounding him. He looks, not scared, but rather stoic: a calm confidence emanating from him, not quite touching overzealousness or insubordination, nor superiority. "C'mon, slave, show us your 'training'..." taunts one of the men. "Yes, do. We 'must' see this prowess the Shadow casters keep mentioning. Show us what you can do..." chides another. It is clear that the three men hold this slave, the High General's or no, in befitting low-esteem. After all, he 'is' a slave. The look on the slave's face, however, is one of calm acceptance, not of the requests of the other men, but of his own place in the grander scheme of things. It is possible, actually 'likely' he could kill these men, considering their relative lack of training and abundance of confidence, but to do so, in public at least, would force his death by his master, or worse, 'his' master... Sa'Vath gazes about the courtyard when a group of officers tending to a slave catches his eye, for some unknown reason Darth Malice turns his attention to these men. Idly watching them taunt the slave. He grins as he recognizes the slave; it's no ordinary slave. Darth Malice decides to have some fun, in his cruel and punishing way. The rooms suddenly fills with energy only visible to those sensitive to the dark power of the Sith as Darth Malice subtly reaches out and gently but gradually nudges one of the officers on, nudging his anger and his taunting to the next level. When Darth Malice feels the man's anger is raised enough he watches to see how the Slave reacts and to see if the man survives his ignorance. The Officer has almost turn beat red, his anger level has risen dramatically with for almost no reason at all, "What's the matter slave dung, not good enough for us? We not high enough rank for you to kiss our shoes? Huh you dung fodder? Answer me slave!" His face red, his companions back off at the sudden outburst of anger from the young man. Keltis merely bows his head, and drops to his knees, reaching out with the speed of a viper to take the man's right foot in his hands, pulling hard enough to knock him on his rear. It is not an attack however, much to the shock, no doubt, of the men standing about. Keltis' face holds a vacant expression as he moves, bringing the foot daintily up to his lips to place the smallest of kisses upon it. "Of course not, sir." his low purring voice slides easily out from between his lips. Sa'Vath grins slyly at the Slave's reaction, thinking to himself, "I can understand why The High General chose this one, a wise choice." He again pushes out with the force and beckons the young mans anger and embarrassment to rise. The evil grin on his face betrays his enjoyment at the scene. The young officer jumps to his feet, embarrassed by the sudden tumble, "You son-of-a'" the young officer attempts to kick at the prone slave. "I'll show you!" Keltis merely blocks, not fancily, not with any emotion other then inward amusement. He still had to play this cautiously. If he did what he'd wanted to do from the outset: show the fools exactly what they wanted, they would be dead, and he would be soon to follow for attacking Sith Warriors. He merely curled up and let the man kick and beat on him, not apologizing, or even speaking: but taking the blows none the less. Sadly, there was little more the slave was permitted to do at this point, without getting himself killed. The grin on Sa'Vath's face slowly fades as the officer proceeds to beat the slave. Slowly without realizing it his own anger begins to rise. Using the dark powers within he makes himself known by flinging all bystanders aside as if they were mere playthings and strides forward to the Officer. He gently lets the word "Stop" drip off his tongue as poison drips from the fangs of a cobra. The officer seeing red continues his pummeling of the slave, not fearing retribution or death itself the Officer has lost himself and abandoned control. His mind filled with anger and hate he continues the savage beating. Darth Malice looks at the man as he defies his word. "So be it. Slave, defend yourself...To the Death." He then takes three steps backwards. The officer blinded by the anger and rage he feels, ironically due to the very man whom he ignores, merely snaps, "Pipe down. I'm not done teaching this 'meat' a lesson-" and suddenly, all at once, he realizes what, who is behind him. Stammering backward as he spins, he trips over the slave, falling backward, kicking at Keltis as he moves to extricate himself from the non-respectful position. "Lord Malice... I, I didn't know... The Shi, Keltis Y'Thagriel, merely nods, moving to a position of knelt fealty as the man trips over him. He merely reaches back, grabbing the man's leg, and twists, popping the knee out of joint in one swift motion. "Of course, Lord Malice." the voice comes, low and deep: utterly calm, save perhaps for a touch of glee playing at the edges. He hauls the now screaming and whimpering man toward him by the very leg he'd only eye-blinks ago, broken at the knee. As the man is dragged in front of and between Shi and Malice, Keltis looks up. "Shall I silence the noise for you, my Lord?" in the softest of voices, not so much in volume, but pitch, timber. Keltis, covered in some sweat and even less blood, is on one knee in front of Sa'Vath, a.k.a. Darth Malice. Several Sith Warriors of clan Krath stand about watching as one of their own: some Lieutenant or other, is dragged from behind Keltis, the slave, /by/ Keltis, the slave, by his left leg. The knee on this leg has been disjointed, and the man is screaming in pain and rage. The Lieutenant lay now betwixt Malice and Keltis, Keltis looking up at the Sith Lord, the calmest, most relaxed expression on his face, even while the man screams perhaps two feet from his ear. Sa'Vath looks at the young officer's face the gazes around the crowd that has gathered, raising his voice to address the crowd, "Anger is your ally my brethren, it is your sword. But your anger can also be the saber of your death if you do not respect it, if you do not control it. You must always been in control...And you MUST obey your master." at that he looks down to Keltis and nods, "I will not tolerate failure." Keltis never ceases his gaze upward toward the Sith Lord. His hands move swiftly, fist shattering the larynx of the so-recently-arrogant Lieutenant with a single blow. "Perhaps, if it pleases you My Lord, I shall place the Lieutenant in his bunk as a reminder to his fellows of your lesson?" The low rumble of Keltis' voice isn't commanding, demanding, or even suggesting that he might no better then the Sith. Rather, he seems to be satisfied in the 'thought' of such a thing entering the troops present's collective mind. The act itself would only add marginal weight to the already fear inspiring thought that their fallen comrade: felled by a slave no less, will rot in his bunk near those he laughed, fought and lived with. Terror, it seems, is not lost on the slave. Sa'Vath turns his head to look at the officer's companions, stares deep into their soul, almost discerning their thoughts and fears. He then grins, "I think that would be an important lesson as well, But I want those two" Pausing pointing to the friends of the now dead officer, "To place him there. And they will do it quickly." Not certain whether to proverbially defecate or set their cronos`, the officers merely 'stare', dumbfounded. Their minds work as fast as possible to try and catch up, but they're racing without track or road, it would seem. Sa'Vath turns slowly to face the two, he throws back his cloak revealing an deadly double bladed lightsaber, "Do you wish to see my fury?" That did it. "N..No my Lord... Immediately my lord..." and with that, the pair give Keltis as wide a birth as possible and take their fallen comrade away, while others watch in shocked horror at more things then they themselves can count. Sa'Vath nods then steps up to the slave, with a cold even voice, "What is your name?" Keltis answers in his customary low purring-voice. "Keltis Y'Thagriel, sire." Sa'Vath nods, "Very good, Keltis. Your speed is excellent. Where is the High General?" "He is within, sire. When last I left him, he was reviewing intelligence reports in preparation for the upcoming offensive. Lorn enters, finding a place to observe amidst the other warriors. Most were older than he was by at least a few years.. but he seems to meld well with the crowd. Except for the spots on his face, which stick out like a sore thumb. Those would make his identity known, at least to those who have heard of him.. and at least two of them were here, though their reactions to his sudden presence are anyone's guess. He watches the scene before him silently, not interjecting comment, but simply letting the words of Sa'Vath wash over him, and noting the obedience of Keltis, his slave.. a remarkable boy, that one.. Sa'Vath looks at Keltis, examining him. He smiles gently, "How is the General doing Keltis? And I trust you will be candid with me." Keltis merely nods, bowing his head: an action, which causes his face to be shaded impossibly by his snowy mane, but only for a moment, ere he looks back to the Darth. "He is well and truly pleased with things, as a whole, sire. His health is good, his mind alert, his mouth wet with anticipation for the next sortie into whatever field my lord decides to send him to." pause, "Certain... obstacles have been overcome without incident or error, and he now prepares to fight on two fronts, one being the offensive slated for C... Cor.. Corellia?" not certain of the pronunciation, "and the other, for the Thethu offensive which will likely follow our forces departure for that very same, in an attempt to take us in a moment of offensive strength and defensive weakness. " That simple litany is both completely accurate and wholly telling of not only the General's skill and keenness of mind, but of his level of trust and confidence in his personal slave, Shi Keltis. Sa'Vath listens carefully to Keltis' briefing, his gaze slowly moving across the courtyard, his gaze finally comes to rest on Keltis, "Tell me Keltis, what do you think of what you see here on Korriban?" Cahir carefully steps into the entrance, partially blocking it off. He sniffs at the air and his multiple nostrils flare as he does so. He has a rifle blaster slung around his neck; it seems to be the common Sith Military rifle. Keltis is on bent knee in a crouch, just in front of Sa'Vath. His face is unabashedly gazing upward toward the sinister man, though this facing changes almost immediately upon the entry of the blaster bearing figure which dominates the entryway. Keltis is up from his crouch, jumping around to block the man from direct line of sight from Darth Malice: a futile act, as the Darth can surely take care of himself, but a proper gesture from one such as Keltis. In a soft, low, purring voice, Keltis asks simply, over his shoulder, "Sire?" awaiting instructions on what to do, if anything, with the unfamiliar, and thus potentially hostile visitor. Sa'Vath smiles at the entrance of the stranger and the quick reaction of Shi, He turns to look at the stranger. He tosses his cloak over his shoulder and watches to see how the Stranger reacts. Cahir seems to know the formalities, a bit. He slowly pulls his blaster from in front of him, so that its around his shoulder, the barrel points skywards over his left shoulder, the strap tightens itself, some kind of new technology. His hands are no longer required holding it. The green Nikto bends a knee, and outstretches an arm, he bows deeply, and properly. He erects himself once more, and doesn't make any approach inwards. "Greetings Sir, and Lord." he says, calmly. Keltis does nothing, says nothing, but his eyes are hard and brilliantly bright as they watch the subtitles of the Nikto's movements. Trained, calm, confident, if a bit nervous, which is understandable... The Nikto took an interesting chance coming here, which has Shi's mind racing, but his visage is utterly calm, cool and unyieldingly collected. Until he hears otherwise from the lord of this clan, he remains where and as he is: watchful, vigilant and wary Sa'Vath smiles as he steps around Keltis and strides slowly, gracefully towards the Stranger, "So tell me stranger. What brings you to this training grounds." Lorn has remained very much as he has throughout this; calm, observant, unnoticed. From this standpoint among the group of watchers, his cold green eyes take in everything that has come to pass.. the entrance of the Nikto no-one seems to know.. Lorn himself, seeing the blaster, is not impressed with him. Blasters were such.. odd weapons, and useless, so far as Lorn was concerned. One who depended on them could not be so much a threat as those who needed no such weapons. But he does not comment, only his thoughts hang in the air. Aris watches the mood and action of Keltis, Sa'Vath, and the others in the room, curious as to what their reactions will be, though remaining ready to actively enter the scene should a need for his presence arise. Cahir looks around for a moment, "I come for no reason, other then exploring." he reaches a hand to his collar and tugs lightly on it. Was that a tug? "Such a fine place to practice, I would enjoy training in an area such as this." Sa'Vath nods, "Aye it is a fine training ground, But is normally restricted to authorized personnel." He smiles and looks at the stranger, "So tell me again, why are you here?" Shi Keltis walks directly to the right of and behind the menacing form of Darth Malice as he approaches and the stops in front of the Nikto. His expression is plain and unmistakable: his thoughts obvious, even to non-Jedi. "I will 'train' you, interloper..." he thinks, but does not say. "I am a fighter, not an experienced one." Cahir states, his multiple nostrils twitch slightly as he takes in the air. "I have visited other planets, such as Corellia, not many experience fighters there." he again glances around the area, and also sums up Keltis. "I would assume with a training area like this, you are both well practiced fighters, better then me." Sa'Vath smiles ever so slightly, he glances at Keltis then back to the stranger, "So your a traveler as well. Very interesting. So what is your name traveler?" His demeanor ever so calm he glances around the training area. "I like to be called Delrath." Cahir smiles, and begins looking back the way he came, he looks to Keltis "Do you think, sir." with a slow gesture towards the spaceport. "You could escort me back to the spaceport?" Keltis' otherwise placidly, deadly calm features purse into a thin smile. He says nothing, it being Malice's place, not his own, to make such a decision. Never mind that the man didn't answer the question asked: Keltis would not even 'dream' of steeling Sa'Vath's thunder by pointing out the flaw in the Nikto's reply. He merely folds his arms, letting his blade and pistol hang unfettered at his sides. Sa'Vath grins at Dalrath's comment, he turns facing his back to the man, the air around him appears to darken, to those who are capable of distinguishing the power of the Sith the air of the Training ground comes alive in power. "So you wish to leave so soon? You just arrived." Cahir would have furrowed his brow, if he had one. "I wish not to leave." he states, "I wish to further explore your planet." it seems have become clear to him that Sa'Vath is of a different variety. "Would you rather escort me...?" he asks Sa'Vath, dragging on the question, as if pausing for a name. Keltis 'almost' laughs, but he refrains from it. As Sa'Vath turns his back on the visitor, Keltis' focus on him intensifies all the more. One wrong breath, one wrong move is all it would take... With his back turned, a wicked grin passes over Sa'Vath's face as the dark tendrils of the power of the Sith fades back as a dark and evil thought passes his mind. He turns sharply with the evil grin on his face. "What house are you from Dalrath? Korriban is under martial law and you want to stroll, only Noble blood and military personnel are allowed to walk freely in the city." Cahir gestures at the military rifle strapped to his back. "I can assure you, I am of a military personnel." he calmly states. He stares at Sa'Vath, interest in his eyes. His senses and perception allow him to loosely sense the force, but he doesn't know what it is. Odd this sense he is getting. "I believe you have command over me, lord." he says, in an obedient tone. With that, Keltis blade is out, though not activated, and at the throat of the trespasser. His thumb remains on the vibrosword's power switch, but it remains in the 'off' position, of the moment. He says nothing, does nothing; save make an inexorable, unmitigated and unmistakable point. As the sword at the alien's throat no doubt 'clearly' states: he may be military, but he is not one of 'theirs', which makes him either Sa'Vath's guest, should the man say so, or meat. Sa'Vath closes his eyes and lets the evil grin return to his face, his hands clasp behind his back as he walks around the stranger. "You not of my Military, or you would not have a blade at your throat. So tell me Dalrath, what military are you in?" The door slides open to admit the crimson-clad form of High General Vasseris Malatest. The almost ever-present frown already upon his face deepening as he walks in and notices, other than the 'usual suspects', a strange and foreign object in the form of Cahir. It is this 'object', to whom he phrases the unceremonious and gruff question, "By the withered teats of Empress Teta, who are you, and why aren't you dead yet?" It is at this point that Lorn steps away from the crowd he has for so long been part of, watching the scene, not interrupting. He moves closer to Sa'Vath, and his group, but does not fully join them. His charge is the protection of Korriban, and he will at least make so much known, though his own interference may not be necessary, he steps out. With Keltis, the boy he knows already to be capable, and Sa'Vath, the boy's master, already here and in charge of the situation, it does not appear as though Lorn's own interjection will be necessary at all.. but there he stands, ready and willing: silently. "I belong to no ones military." Cahir states, his eyes trace the blade at his throat. "I am a mercenary, on a hire for hire basis." he eases backwards from the blade. "You need not fear me, nor like me. The request I do have, is that I am not threatened." his eyes follow the blade to the possessor. The Nikto has his hands at his sides, his cape covers his hands, but an audible click is heard, then nothing. Slight movement beneath the cape, a blaster pistol clatters to the floor, and his hands emerge from beneath concealment. "I am no ones enemy here." Vasseris brings forth a foot to kick the blaster pistol away from Cahir, peering at him incredulously. "Then why are you here? Looking for a quick and easy death getting executed snooping where you don't belong? Because I can assure you, we make it a matter of course to torture interlopers." The blade follows the Nikto's attempts to withdraw from it, refusing to allow such. Keltis moves to kick the blaster in Lorn's direction, but is beaten to the punch by his master, Vasseris. Otherwise he does and says nothing. An odd sight, to see a look of such utterly ruthless calm on a boy of perhaps 18 winters, but there it sits, amidst long ivory locks and sporting orbs the hue of shattered glass. The hands holding the blade are unwavering, the muscles taught and coiled: ready to snap into action and remove the head from the brave, if not wise Nikto, should it be necessary. Sa'Vath grins, "Interesting answer Dalrath. But that leaves a lot to be explained." turns to the High General. "Vasseris find out who he really is, then send him on his way....but make sure he doesn't forget his indiscretion." Vasseris curtly nods to his only superior and master. "As you wish." With that, Sa'Vath turns and walks away striding into the Headquarters. The blaster slides rather noisily across the ground, stopping only when Lorn's foot presses down on it. He glares down at it for a moment, pondering what it is, and how it is that it got to be where it is.. Useless trinket, really. He leaves the weapon where it lies, held tight under his left foot, the keeper assured that it wasn't going anywhere. Cahir remains calm, and looks partially relieved that the strange sense he was feeling is gone. His gaze turns to Vasseris, he's in charge now.. "I am here, looking for future contacts." he says, plainly towards Vasseris, he seems to be ignoring Keltis now. "People under estimate the power of a mercenary, that doesn't have a side." Vasseris cocks his head to one side in imperious appraisal of this headstrong and self-vaunted mercenary. "And just how much power is there to be overestimated, eh?" Keltis says nothing, of course, and remains with his thumb over the 'on' switch of his Vibroblade. He glances, ocularly at least, to Vasseris for a moment, but no longer than, and 'waits'. Simply put, he wants him. He wants to kill him, Shi does. It's in every breath, every ripple of muscle, and every inch of his stance. He's alive with the prospect, which means that the creatures said or did something of interest. Keltis is not known for boredom-based bloodlust. Future contacts.. mercenary. Words such as these disgust Lorn, though his expression, stoic, does not show it. Mercenaries.. those who are too self-absorbed to see beyond themselves, to serve something greater than themselves. In a smooth motion, Lorn stoops to take the blaster beneath his feet, tucking it tightly into his belt, and moving closer. He takes up a position near Vasseris, though not so close as to crowd his superior. Lorn remains, as always, silent. "I believe you have enemies. They are based on the planet Teta, are they not?" Cahir begins to smile. "I often get a good sight of people entering and leaving the palace there." Vasseris shakes his head in abject displeasure. "We do not make use of mercenaries to spy on our enemies. That is cowardly, and unwise. Mercenaries only work for whomever is paying them the most." Cahir frowns a bit. "Then my services here are unnecessary." he looks to Vasseris, as if expecting a dismissal, and again, eases backwards so the blade on his neck doesn't actually touch his skin. Expecting another following of Keltis. And not totally disappointed. Keltis moves the blade... but not along with the retreating neck. Instead, he removes it from the throat altogether, replacing it, point down, at the Nikto's crotch. Aside form that, nothing changes. Vasseris clasps his hands behind his back and looks thoughtfully from the rather hapless Nikto to his ever-faithful servant and aide. "Keltis, take care of this ambitious mercenary, won't you? Let him leave, but see that he has something to remember us by." Keltis merely nods to the Nikto, indicating he should rise... 'slowly', the blade following him. He steps forward and brings a hand to bear on the creatures shoulder, forcibly turning him toward the exit and giving him a rather unceremonious push out. He doesn't say a word, even still. Escorting the creature to the spaceport, he 'sees him off' at sword point, finally cutting him 'just a touch': enough to sting and draw blood from his lower left thigh, and no more. The blaster pistol is not returned, as it was Lorn who had it last. [OOC NOTE: In the shove at the back of his shoulder, a tracking/transmitter bug is placed in the folds of his cloak. Please note it to the appropriate staffer. ] Cahir doesn't even wince, and his stride doesn't seem affected by the cut in the back of his leg. He just walks towards the spaceport, and doesn't resist. Lorn nods. After Cahir has been escorted out, the slave returns to find Lorn waiting for him. Lorn draws the blaster from its place snug against his body, holding it out butt-first toward Keltis. He had no need of it, nor any wish to keep it. The weapon itself is quite heavy, so far as blasters go, and appears like a sturdy, well kept weapon. The expression on Aris' face remains as stoic and serious as ever, the man still not having said a word, nor offering one now. Only the blaster. Keltis takes the blaster, upon returning from the escort duty given by his master. He offers a light bow to the other man and slips the weapon easily into a pouch on his belt. He will tend to it later, unless otherwise ordered. He obviously recognizes the man before him, but says nothing as of yet, allowing the bow to show his respect for the man's rank, as a full Sith Warrior. Lorn nods in return, his hand returning to a place behind his back, now free of the weight of the weapon. An audibly thick breath escapes his nostrils, slowly, the sound of the air passing through his throat audible before the air leaves his nose. He had almost hoped there would be trouble with the interloper.. though his own usefulness would likely not have been shown then, either. For the moment, it seems, Lorn is best for stopping blasters and simply witnessing events. He stands motionless, regarding the young slave for a moment. Keltis merely stands there in all his sinewy glory. He seems to have put on, not girth, but some muscle since last Lorn saw him. No doubt Lorn has done much of the same with his post on Kwalant. The rim world was a wild place full of, if rumors were to be believed, carnivorous plants, among other joys. No doubt the warrior was pleased that his tour there at the garrison was over. Keltis' blade remains in its sheath, no longer needing much more then the fingertips which rest upon the pommel, to keep it steadied and out of annoyance's way. The wind moves and plays with his cloak and hair for a moment, tossing it about his face and shoulders, but eventually leaving it be, so as not to anger the attached human. While it is true that Lorn's own figure had become considerably more toned during his posting, and his training here, he keeps it very much hidden. His very mannerism defies his birthright, to be strong. He is calm, he is demure, he does not appear to be as forceful as he should be.. he does not appear to be a true Mandalorian warrior.. and in a sense, he is not. He moves away from the boy; his cloak follows reluctantly, hanging back in the light wind, fluttering. As Lorn steps, his eyes silently move about the concourse here, taking in the sights, his nose picking up the scent of the air, his ears paying close attention to the slightest sounds they may pick up.. strength may not have come to him so much, but attention certainly had. After a moment, he turns again to face the slave, though from a further distance now. An awkward silence remains between the two, which neither seem apt to break.. Lorn's eyes meet with Keltis', unmoving from them for the moment. And it is Keltis who breaks that lock: eye to eye, turning to look away and down. One does not look into the eyes of a Sith unless engaged in direct questioning without fear of recrimination, and punishment. He asks softly, almost awkwardly, "Have you been shown to your quarters, sir?" keeping the tone and words respectful, in spite of the irony of the situation. For the briefest of moments, it may have been noticed that words almost startled Lorn. His head jerks back only slightly, his eyes blink once. The words were not what he expected. Not what he had thought would come at all. He had been among the Sith long enough to learn many of the customs, and certainly the rules, however dealing with a slave without its master present was not something he had done. He does not know the custom in the this situation.. Aris' own voice is soft as well; only loud enough to be heard by that to which he means to speak, the tone smooth and soothing, another odd difference from your typical Mandalorian officer. "No. It is not important. I will find them when I need them, and no sooner. You master, Sa'Vath, affords you a great deal of freedom, does he not?" Keltis looks up, and then blinks through a smile, turning to look down again. "Darth Malice is not my master: 'directly' at any rate. Vasseris Malatest, High General of the Krath armed forces, is my master, and yes, I am trusted: more then many slaves. I am fortunate. Lorn nods, not moving a muscle, otherwise. His eyes close slightly as his head dips; a partially involuntary action. A breath is taken in, and released again in a slow sentence. "Quite fortunate, Keltis Y'Thagriel.. I will remember that." With that much said, the warrior, unproven here, turns and calmly steps back toward the barracks; the cloak flowing loosely behind him, but his whole presence not making any further sound. His footprints in the ash road all that remains of his being here. Keltis lets out a long, ragged breath once the Sith Warrior he helped to make is out of sight and earshot. He takes a moment to drink in his solitude, wrapping himself in it like armor before looking up at the lowering night sky. It would be dark soon, which meant there was little time to waste... he had work to do: an 'obstacle' to remove...