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29-04-2023, 01:51 PM
Viren Sekker in:
MINDING YOUR BUSINESS
In the rain-drenched alleys of Kaas City, a solitary figure wound its way through thin crowds of people. Red robes as dark as blood, their hood and shoulders turned even darker by rain, hid his features - but even in these crowds, Viren Sekker stood out.
For one, he was somewhat taller than most of the people he passed. For another, the crowd approaching him parted instinctively as he walked, jostling into one another in haste to make way when they saw the dim glow of orange eyes beneath his hood. The people of Dromund Kaas are accustomed to living alongside Sith; that accustomization comes, of course, in the form of ingrained fear.
He had traipsed for several hours now, walking from alley to alley, taking airtaxis here and there, winding a complex - yet random - pattern through the streets. Yet despite this pattern, Viren could not shake the vague prickling of his sense that told him he was being followed - that something out in the crowds of docile, subjugated Imperial Citizens was tracking him like a vine-cat, though he could neither see nor sense their intent in the Force.
Along one of the narrow alleys he found what he had been making his way towards so slowly - a small shop, horrendously lit from within by bare white lighting strips that made the interior seem incredibly artificial, doing little to enhance the wares there.
“You have what I came for?” Viren asked the shopkeeper without preamble.
“You– ah,” the portly, sweating man stopped when he saw Viren’s face, the intensity of his eyes. “M-m’lord. You’re the one who called?”
Viren nodded. The call had been placed from a public holoterminal halfway across the city after another rambling walk through streets.
The shopkeeper disappeared behind the counter into a back-room, pushing aside a dilapidated bead curtain as he went. After a moment he returned with a small object glinting between stubby fingers, which Viren snatched from him the moment he came near.
“Fully authenticated,” the shopkeep said proudly, puffing out his chest. “Gen-u-ine gold, as owned by–”
“Be quiet,” Viren snapped, emphasising his words with the Dark Side to make them an irresistible command. The man’s mouth snapped shut so fast he nearly bit his tongue. Viren held the shining object up to the light, examining it closely in the harsh light; around the interior of the band, faint words could be read.
“How did you come upon it? Speak.”
The man spoke in a dull monotone, unable to stop his words at Viren’s urging. “It was given me by a man, who says he got it from his sister who worked for a Sith. Says it was taken from a hand cut off of someone else and was kept as a trophy.”
Viren nodded slowly, pocketing whatever the trinket was in a fold of his robe. He took a bundle of credits from a pouch on his belt and placed them firmly on the countertop.
“My name,” he enunciated clearly, “Is Lord Vaslo. I purchased this thing from you because I intend to melt it down to spite my rival. Do you understand?”
Nodding dully, the shopkeeper repeated in a monotone, “Your name is Lord Vaslo…”
A moment later, Viren was stood back out in the rain drawing his hood higher over his head. The shopkeep was still visible through the rain-streaked window, staring at a wall. Viren turned away, patting gently over the pouch that contained his purchase.
High above, perched unseen on a rooftop that overlooked the alley, a hooded figure flitted in the night to pursue Viren. The shadow moved with the lithe grace of a vine-cat, lingering in the darkest shadows cast by rooftop ventilation units or the towering pillars of lightning conducting towers.
The shadow waited until Viren was walking through a narrower alley, one devoid of people, and slipped down from the rooftops to street level; blocking the street light behind him and casting a long shadow over Viren at the foot of a set of concrete steps.
The young Sith turned, left hand raising instinctively to start hurling bolts of lightning… but stopped as his Force Sense reached the figure now stood above him. “Hesei?” he said softly, frowning deeply beneath his hood. “What are you…?”
Lord Hesei, dressed head to toe in slender matte-black armour, moved quickly down the steps and pressed Viren firmly into a shadow.
“What are you doing in this part of the city, boy?” he growled, metal fingers digging into Viren’s shoulder. “Did your cousin never tell you there are parts of even the Empire dangerous to Sith?”
Viren straightened his back and pushed Hesei’s hand away, looking the Lord in the eye. Hesei took a half-step back. The last time he’d met Viren was a few years ago now, when he was still barely out of his late teens and the beginning of his career as an Apprentice. No longer was he looking at a boy, but a young man in truth now, with an intense glare in his eyes that told Hesei he was no longer interested in being scolded by him.
“I tried to contact you after Darth Sekker… after what happened,” Viren said, straightening the front of his tunic with a tug. “Where the hell have you been?”
“Do not presume you can speak to me like your cousin did,” Hesei growled, his deep voice resonant behind the respirator that covered his lower face. “I owed her a blood-debt, Viren Sekker, one that ended with her death and most certainly does not extend to serving you.”
Viren’s lip curled defiantly. “Then why are you here?” he demanded.
Hesei glanced up and down the alley, checking no others were listening, and lowered his tone. “I came to tell you not to bother searching for me any more. My debt is paid and I intend to go back to doing what I did before I was loyal to Nalda Sekker.”
“Which is?”
“None of your business, boy. You deserve, however, to know the truth. I cannot tell you everything, in part because I do not know it all and in part because you would not believe me. Nalda kept a great many things from you, Viren Sekker, and if you wish to be the Patriarch she envisioned you to be, you shall have to learn them. Start by asking the right questions. No,” he added as Viren inhaled to speak, “Not by asking me. Seek out the things left behind by your parents and by Nalda. You will find answers through that. And, Viren…”
Hesei paused a long moment then, his sulphurous yellow eyes searching Viren’s face for something. At last, he said, “When you kill Kitsana Sekker… make the bastard suffer for what he did to Nalda.”
He drew back, checking the alley again as though worried someone might have snuck up on them. Viren relaxed fractionally as the Sith Lord moved out of his personal space, taking deep breaths of cold Kaasian air.
“I shall… listen to your advice,” he said after a moment. “Thank you, Hesei. I know you served my cousin well for a long time.”
Hesei let out a grunt from behind his mask. “I did what I had to. I did try to kill her a long time ago after all.” He turned as though to depart the way he had come, then stopped with one booted foot on the base of the stairs. “Answer me one question, young Sekker.”
“Hm?”
“...what were you buying under such secrecy?”
Viren allowed a long pause there, absently touching a hand over the trinket beneath his robe once again. “...None of your business, Hesei.”
The Sith Lord turned to stare at him - his expression unreadable beneath the mask… then, he let out a low chuckle. Saying nothing further, he leapt up the stairs in a single bound, then in a second was high up on a rooftop above them. A moment later he was gone from sight, leaving no trace he had been there at all.
Viren began his long, meandering walk back to the small apartment that he now called home. Meeting Hesei had been unexpected, but useful… and now he had an idea where to start looking for the answers Hesei had told him to seek. Somewhere out there were belongings of his parents that had been scattered throughout the galaxy after their deaths. Collecting them would take time, years even, but in the end… it would be worth it.
MINDING YOUR BUSINESS
In the rain-drenched alleys of Kaas City, a solitary figure wound its way through thin crowds of people. Red robes as dark as blood, their hood and shoulders turned even darker by rain, hid his features - but even in these crowds, Viren Sekker stood out.
For one, he was somewhat taller than most of the people he passed. For another, the crowd approaching him parted instinctively as he walked, jostling into one another in haste to make way when they saw the dim glow of orange eyes beneath his hood. The people of Dromund Kaas are accustomed to living alongside Sith; that accustomization comes, of course, in the form of ingrained fear.
He had traipsed for several hours now, walking from alley to alley, taking airtaxis here and there, winding a complex - yet random - pattern through the streets. Yet despite this pattern, Viren could not shake the vague prickling of his sense that told him he was being followed - that something out in the crowds of docile, subjugated Imperial Citizens was tracking him like a vine-cat, though he could neither see nor sense their intent in the Force.
Along one of the narrow alleys he found what he had been making his way towards so slowly - a small shop, horrendously lit from within by bare white lighting strips that made the interior seem incredibly artificial, doing little to enhance the wares there.
“You have what I came for?” Viren asked the shopkeeper without preamble.
“You– ah,” the portly, sweating man stopped when he saw Viren’s face, the intensity of his eyes. “M-m’lord. You’re the one who called?”
Viren nodded. The call had been placed from a public holoterminal halfway across the city after another rambling walk through streets.
The shopkeeper disappeared behind the counter into a back-room, pushing aside a dilapidated bead curtain as he went. After a moment he returned with a small object glinting between stubby fingers, which Viren snatched from him the moment he came near.
“Fully authenticated,” the shopkeep said proudly, puffing out his chest. “Gen-u-ine gold, as owned by–”
“Be quiet,” Viren snapped, emphasising his words with the Dark Side to make them an irresistible command. The man’s mouth snapped shut so fast he nearly bit his tongue. Viren held the shining object up to the light, examining it closely in the harsh light; around the interior of the band, faint words could be read.
“How did you come upon it? Speak.”
The man spoke in a dull monotone, unable to stop his words at Viren’s urging. “It was given me by a man, who says he got it from his sister who worked for a Sith. Says it was taken from a hand cut off of someone else and was kept as a trophy.”
Viren nodded slowly, pocketing whatever the trinket was in a fold of his robe. He took a bundle of credits from a pouch on his belt and placed them firmly on the countertop.
“My name,” he enunciated clearly, “Is Lord Vaslo. I purchased this thing from you because I intend to melt it down to spite my rival. Do you understand?”
Nodding dully, the shopkeeper repeated in a monotone, “Your name is Lord Vaslo…”
A moment later, Viren was stood back out in the rain drawing his hood higher over his head. The shopkeep was still visible through the rain-streaked window, staring at a wall. Viren turned away, patting gently over the pouch that contained his purchase.
High above, perched unseen on a rooftop that overlooked the alley, a hooded figure flitted in the night to pursue Viren. The shadow moved with the lithe grace of a vine-cat, lingering in the darkest shadows cast by rooftop ventilation units or the towering pillars of lightning conducting towers.
The shadow waited until Viren was walking through a narrower alley, one devoid of people, and slipped down from the rooftops to street level; blocking the street light behind him and casting a long shadow over Viren at the foot of a set of concrete steps.
The young Sith turned, left hand raising instinctively to start hurling bolts of lightning… but stopped as his Force Sense reached the figure now stood above him. “Hesei?” he said softly, frowning deeply beneath his hood. “What are you…?”
Lord Hesei, dressed head to toe in slender matte-black armour, moved quickly down the steps and pressed Viren firmly into a shadow.
“What are you doing in this part of the city, boy?” he growled, metal fingers digging into Viren’s shoulder. “Did your cousin never tell you there are parts of even the Empire dangerous to Sith?”
Viren straightened his back and pushed Hesei’s hand away, looking the Lord in the eye. Hesei took a half-step back. The last time he’d met Viren was a few years ago now, when he was still barely out of his late teens and the beginning of his career as an Apprentice. No longer was he looking at a boy, but a young man in truth now, with an intense glare in his eyes that told Hesei he was no longer interested in being scolded by him.
“I tried to contact you after Darth Sekker… after what happened,” Viren said, straightening the front of his tunic with a tug. “Where the hell have you been?”
“Do not presume you can speak to me like your cousin did,” Hesei growled, his deep voice resonant behind the respirator that covered his lower face. “I owed her a blood-debt, Viren Sekker, one that ended with her death and most certainly does not extend to serving you.”
Viren’s lip curled defiantly. “Then why are you here?” he demanded.
Hesei glanced up and down the alley, checking no others were listening, and lowered his tone. “I came to tell you not to bother searching for me any more. My debt is paid and I intend to go back to doing what I did before I was loyal to Nalda Sekker.”
“Which is?”
“None of your business, boy. You deserve, however, to know the truth. I cannot tell you everything, in part because I do not know it all and in part because you would not believe me. Nalda kept a great many things from you, Viren Sekker, and if you wish to be the Patriarch she envisioned you to be, you shall have to learn them. Start by asking the right questions. No,” he added as Viren inhaled to speak, “Not by asking me. Seek out the things left behind by your parents and by Nalda. You will find answers through that. And, Viren…”
Hesei paused a long moment then, his sulphurous yellow eyes searching Viren’s face for something. At last, he said, “When you kill Kitsana Sekker… make the bastard suffer for what he did to Nalda.”
He drew back, checking the alley again as though worried someone might have snuck up on them. Viren relaxed fractionally as the Sith Lord moved out of his personal space, taking deep breaths of cold Kaasian air.
“I shall… listen to your advice,” he said after a moment. “Thank you, Hesei. I know you served my cousin well for a long time.”
Hesei let out a grunt from behind his mask. “I did what I had to. I did try to kill her a long time ago after all.” He turned as though to depart the way he had come, then stopped with one booted foot on the base of the stairs. “Answer me one question, young Sekker.”
“Hm?”
“...what were you buying under such secrecy?”
Viren allowed a long pause there, absently touching a hand over the trinket beneath his robe once again. “...None of your business, Hesei.”
The Sith Lord turned to stare at him - his expression unreadable beneath the mask… then, he let out a low chuckle. Saying nothing further, he leapt up the stairs in a single bound, then in a second was high up on a rooftop above them. A moment later he was gone from sight, leaving no trace he had been there at all.
Viren began his long, meandering walk back to the small apartment that he now called home. Meeting Hesei had been unexpected, but useful… and now he had an idea where to start looking for the answers Hesei had told him to seek. Somewhere out there were belongings of his parents that had been scattered throughout the galaxy after their deaths. Collecting them would take time, years even, but in the end… it would be worth it.
