Consolidation Litanies of the Dark Side: Souls of the Damned [DC Dagobah Hex Defence Upgrade]

[Valia Muqai]

The cacophony of sensations and emotions that Valia felt as she sunk her mind's claws into Hazdrabal was chaotic, almost too much so. She did not know his name, at least, not until she had clawed her way into his mind, and she recognized his face, as the one who had chased her through the streets of Karideph in what felt like an eternity ago.

Valia felt nothing but hatred towards him, she felt no pity towards the child she saw or the tormented soul that resided within the drug addled body that she had invaded.

She sunk her claws deeper, tighter into his mind, as if trying to break some wild, untamed beast into obedience. Valia did not want to just give him power as he had demanded, she wanted him to obey her will— to kill who she wanted to hunt down.

 

[Hazdrabal the Cannibal]

@Valia Muqai
​

The beast roared in defiance. His muscles stretched, his lightsaber screaming as it delivered wrath upon the black Shadows Hazdrabal approached in his wake of carnage. They were thralls, all; Bound by the black tendrils into blind servitute. Hazdrabal cared little. His mind besieged by malice, his cybernetic eyes beholding only blood. With each push against his mental walls causing yet another burst of violence. There was little tactic in the battle. Little meaning, save but Death, looming over the field of battle like a glooming shadow waiting to latch upon any and all who partook in the feast of bones.

His will cracked, far too infused by the hallucinogenics. His mind gave way, far too oppressed by the combined willpower of the Sith Adepts in the Sanctum. In a moment of sudden pain and foul rage, Valia's mind twisted and her skin bled, as the tendrils stretching from her mind pierced through, flooding the very veins of Hazdrabal and taking charge of the mortal shell that encapsulated him.

For a moment, the possession offered a glimpse of ecstasy. Eyes seeing beyond matter. Hands reaching beyond flesh. Power fused with that not of her own. And then, it came. Then her own mind twisted, as each of the nails driven into the man's broken face became her own. Each cybernetic, most painfully shoved into bone and marrow, caused the same horrific sensation it did to Hazdrabal. Each regreat became her own. Each moment of passion, unmade and resummoned again in her very mind, causing memories of them both to blend into an amalgam of confusion and unnatural Dread. Hazdrabal swung his blade, reaching with his claws and casting a mighty wave of Force energy that crashed several of the foes against the durasteel in a single motion. Power borrowed. Power possessed. Power foreign. As their minds moulded into one, Valia's possession over Hazdrabal's body grew stronger...

 

[Eosfor]

@Teradit
​

"Weakness is the first to perish, on the path of Redemption..."

The voice of the Dark Lord hung in the air like a miasma that bloomed foul dust in the wind, not content with the plague spread by the septic roots it stretched deep in the Dark. Each of his steps heavy, carrying his weight in hate and unmasked malice that knew few that could match it. His hands, clad in thick Cortosis and branded by blasphemous glyphs, tapped on the heavy chains fixed on the ground.

Like vines, the chains slithered beneath the platform, into the large pit of the chamber, clad in rivets and durasteel.

"You were weak. Now, you are strong."

The Dark Lord's eyes, graced by crimson flame burning from within, fixated in the pit, as if he could see through the pitch darkness that had consumed the chamber for so long. It had been days... Weeks... Months, even, ever since the last light, ever so dim, was lit in this chamber. A heartless decree, coming from the Dark Lord himself for he deemed it a rightful punishment for what could have been a crime not yet commited.

The Pit was no cabin, nor deck. It was a cage. Designed to inflict despair and taunt the wrath of any unlucky enough to find themselves in it. It was a prison, for creatures far larger, and far deadlier than most a Sith onboard the cursed ship. The Dark Lord offered no compassion, nor quarter to any under his wing. Yet, strangely enough, each who followed him, willingly or otherwise, was promised redemption, or absolution, in ways manifested so twisted that the mind failed to trace any motives that might have once been there.

The Dark Lord's hands pushed against the rails. His claws wrapping around the metal, eclipsing the dim light coming from behind him, from the openned blast door, far above the bottom of the pit.

"You have anger. You have hate. Show it to me. Mend your wounds with blood, and cure your famine with Death."

The bottom of the pit shook. The thin line carving the ground in two moved ever so slightly, as the hydraulics made ready to open the fake floor wide, for the ship to vomit the beast out.

The Dark Lord glared from above. His eyes fixated on the wicked creation.

 

[wraithslayer101]

That beast, staring up at the darkness that would eventually reach the Dark Lord has a stronger will then most on board the ship, just as strong as his newfound muscles and claws. He doesn’t answer back, but in his heart, he knows if he gives into temptation, anger and fear, he’d loose his chance at escaping alongside keeping his mind intact. Said beast is a strange mix of human and Rancor, formed from the foul force powers of the Sith in servitude of the Dark Crusade, but unfortunately for the Sith, the mental process of turning to the Dark Side has been hard to grasp, like a fish out of water, so he keeps his mind occupied by walking around the cage, huffing and puffing like an animal to keep up a mask of animalistic rage to fool his dark “master”.

 

[Eosfor]

The Dark Lord shook his head. To him, this was yet another of the foul creations of the Dark Crusade in their path of destruction. A necessary evil, inflicted to those found lacking to be embraced by the Marauder horde as a Sith. In truth, the soul trapped within the monster, had never been truly given the choice to do so...

Alas, the Dark Crusade was never found lacking in ignorance...

"Do it."

The Dark Lord ordered. The ground of the cage creaked and squealed, as it split in two, openning wide.

Beneath the hulking warship, the spires of the massive city spanned covered by black clouds of smoke spawned by the roaring flames that engulfed many parts of the city landscape, aftermath of the orbital strikes that had befallen the planet.

The screaming of starfighters and the blaze of green and blue plasma and turbolaser flak broke through the dense smoke, trailing paths of battling swarms that flew over the surface. There was little light of the sun gracing the surface, for the black pitch above was too thick and too colossal to allow any. Below the hulking warship from which the beast was vomited out of, buildings had caught flame, while any ships once traversing the skylanes had now been grounded either driven or shot, with numerous people flooding the streets, running like a tide to escape the coming carnage. The Dark Crusade detachments had yet to reach this part of the great city. The ships daringly looming far too close to the skyscrappers, for the defending batteries and fortified positions had already befallen to ground attacks or orbital bombardments. The remaining orbital defence lasers too occupied by the dozens of warships to be any effective.

 

[wraithslayer101]

The beast lands on the ground with a thud. Unfortunately for him, he… doesn’t exactly know what to do at this very moment beyond just meandering through the city… which he starts to do. As much as he wants escape, he doesn’t know if he’d be strong enough to do so despite being dropped into a warzone, so he’ll meamder for now and avoid stepping on people as well as he possibly can. He does look up to the sky on occasion as he wanders the decrepit and ruined city, slightly wondering if there would be a sun to come out from among the smog.

 

[Kirki Tyr'Opta]

The air was thick with the scent of burning fuel and the cries of panic from the civilians, quick to scatter in utter horror upon the Beast's approach. The sirens screamed, if and when they found the energy to broadcast the heralding of the doom that had already been upon the city. From above, perhaps once attached to one of the skyscrappers, a large fabric descended like paper sinking into water, until it fell upon the street. The fabric was black, with a seven-pointed star drawn with white, surrounded by smaller stars in a circular fashion. A flag.

What seemed strange, though, was that the design itself resembled much of the Dark Crusade's emblem, save for the colour choice. A coincidence, perhaps...

As the moments passed, the famished body finally protested. After weeks of starvation, the urge to feed became ever prominent.

Bewitching whispers then invaded his mind. Whispers of malice. Whispers of darkness. Whispers of hate.

"Feed..."

Her very voice a summons of temptation. A perverse provocation to damnation itself. Though unknown how, he could feel her presence onboard the foul ship above the city, using the Sith Sorceries performed in the intestines of the warship to extend their will on the ground. She offered power to him. The strength intoxicating enough to drive his muscles and hunt the fleeing populace, as if inflicting Death was the sole purpose he was given.

 

[Valia Muqai]

The sensations from her real, physical body and the host body were practically indistinguishable to Valia at that point. She could not tell which was which, whether or not the flow of blood she felt was from her body or from the severed corpses of slain enemies.

Still, like the prowling predator that she was in that moment, Valia took full advantage of the crack within Hazdrabal's psyche. Slipping through and not hesitating to take further control of him, uncaring or blissfully ignorant of the consequences.

It started off as pure bliss to see through the eyes of another, full of power and the desire to hunt down those within her sight. Yet it got replaced with pain and regret before reverting back again, over and over. Valia could not understand why, nor was she capable of conjuring an explanation for it, not that she'd care to.

In that very moment, all she wanted was to be the one swinging the blade against their foes.

 

[wraithslayer101]

The beast scowls. The last thing he wants to do is to eat human flesh, especially if they’re helpless civilians like the ones around him. He’ll start looking for bodies to eat. Doesn’t matter if they’re Sith or civilian, he must feast, and he will not give in to those dark urges, no matter what

 

[Hazdrabal the Cannibal]

@Valia Muqai​

Blood flowed like river. The burning sensation of Hazdrabal's muscle becoming so tense, Valia could feel as if she had hollowed in to his very body. Each wound received, painful tenfold. Each act demanded of him, cast with power trice as mighty. The hallucinogenics rampant in his veins denying him the clarity to oppose the most foul a touch in his mind. He did not resist. Like a beast feral and bloodthirsty, he invited her will within, another weapon to wield as his own, as the minds of the two fused in alignment.

The alarms rung unceasingly onboard the warship, as the Sith pushed ever deeper into its maze, brandishing the flame of destruction in their path. Hazdrabal, ahead of all, he stood before a large corridor, from which a line of black-armoured troopers, led by three she-champions clad in power-armour and armed with screeching golden lightsabers.

Their will unbreakable, the black tendrils wrapping them in a Deathly embrace, taunting the Sith as they approached. Their war cries a provocation and promise of contest, matching the fury of the coming tide. Blasters took aim, lightsabers screamed, as the two made ready for the clash.

NAVA DOMINA

STORMHOLLOW​

 

[Valia Muqai]

The sensation of sharing a body gradually began to feel as natural as wearing a suit of armor. She felt each tensed muscle, the sting of pain, and the hallucinogenics that ran through the body she had taken over (or attempted to). While Hazdrabal may have willingly invited her into his mind, they were anything but harmonious, as Valia desired full control. What he willed, she disobeyed and resisted.

But, they agreed upon one thing.

Both were thirst for blood.

Valia did not know what kind of troops the gold-saber wielding dark armored women were. They did not look like any Jedi faction she knew, though such thing mattered little to her in the moment. She wanted them dead, nothing more and nothing less.

She raised a hand, well, attempted to, and did a harsh pulling gesture as she made use of the force in an attempt to pry their weapons from their hands. If not pry away their weapons then force them to stumble forwards towards her. Assuming she overpowers Hazdrabal's will.

 

[Hazdrabal the Cannibal]

Fire burned within. Hazdrabal's bloodlust blinded him to the will his possessor bestowed upon him. It did not matter. Nothing did. It was his path that of destruction and rage; To be chosen by the Adepts was to wield power much greater than his own, already mighty strength. The fact their presence was demanding and fatiguing was irrelevant, to him.

As his hands was brought aloft, as if guided by muscles not of his own, his fingers twisted into a malformed curl. The Force around him screamed in defiance, and yet her voice was not enough to resist both his' and Valia's amalgamated drive for mayhem. As the invisible fabric of the Force shifted, the vile tendrils of darkness whirled around the she-warriors. The lightsabers flying from their hands, as if no resistance was offered, spiraling fast against the Sith band.

Hazdrabal instincts kicked in, ducking himself down as one of the blades flew past, only to be planted deep into the Sith warrior that walked behind him. A path drawn in mimicking of the others.

Three blades.

Three Dead.

A score placing the foe on a head start.

The black tendrils of Death swirling around the dying, as if devouring their essence before their bodies even fell. The lightsabers burning their insides, as if marblefied in their victims.

In a moment of chaos, the foe cast a shower of blaster fire, blazing the ship's corridor with greenish laser.

Hazdrabal swung both his blades to deflect the enemy fire, in a desynchrony with the other Sith behind him. A suppression serving only for a single moment.

The Sith tide was finally halted against the bulwark.

Now, the time had come for the piercing blow to puncture through.

The three she-warriors jumped forth, the jetpacks mounted on their backs roaring with energy, hurling them ahead like torpedoes made of flesh and cortosis. Tendrils of black will giving power to them, as they cast a storm of lightning, chained between them, strong enough to melt the lightbars above and tear off the very consoles that arrayed the corridor's walls. A wave of Force energy beaming of the foul stench of Death, like meteors descending through the hailstorm.

 

[Karia Fat'sa]

@Anatoli Sidorov​

The void provided a strange illusion of comfort that her mind was unable to explain. A puzzle made of stars on a table of cosmos her hands could not decypher. And yet, she dwelt in it. Her boots could pick on the reverberation of the deck, tainted by the roaring of the generators that worked tirelessly around the clock, buried far beneath, in the deepest hollows of the station. In such moments of relative tranquility, an utter contrast to her mind, such sensations, otherwise ignored, now reminded Karia of her presence in Realspace, so as she would not lose herself in the labyrinth of her mind.

The War had begun. Anticipated by none more than Karia Fat'sa, the very architect of the network that was meant to allow the House of Kata, now deformed, defaced and devolved into the amalgam of barbarism and depravity that had become the Dark Crusade, to materialize their war. The plans were made a decade ago, when the union of the House Kata and the Dread Slayer Horde was sealed. It was since then, when Karia Fat'sa had ascended through the departments of the false organization made by Darth Eosfor to invade the Empire's Industry and fund his personal wars, when Dromund Kaas turned its back.

For Karia, this war that came as a shock for the Galaxy as a whole, was merely a result of a long struggle. It was her innovation of detatching the Aphotic Industries Inc from the Sith Empire, during the great conflicts with the Eternal Empire. It was her leadership and aggressive ways that had earned her the seat of the organization's chairman. It was now her resolve, that would allow the Dark Crusade to continue their path of destruction.

The Sith could handle the fighting.

So long she could supply them with the weapons for war...

Standing on a turningpoint for both the Aphotic Industries Inc, and herself, Karia had chosen not to directly align her organization with the renegades of the Dark Crusade. Her cargo ships could no longer enter Minos Sector, for both the Sith and the Republic had formed naval blockades that denied access to the territory, unless fought for. And Karia was not the one to get her hands dirty...

Many startups and established transportation companies, organizations, syndicates and freelancer smugglers alike had been employed for the task of shipping the war supplies to Minos Sector, from the Aphotic Industries' distribution point on Halcyon. With little naval elements to monitor her movements, and a certain financial investment to the orbital command's operators, she had managed to establish a status quo under which she could ship the cargo off-world, and down the Rimma Trade Route, from where, potentially, it would be smuggled into Minos Sector.

What she now needed, was someone capable of pulling the job...

Her office was in Section X3-A7, onboard the Orbital Station that orbited the planet. It was there, where most merchant activity was conducted, as the Sith attempted to limit access to the planetside. The Aphotic Industries Inc still preserved large laboratory and factory complexes on the planet, though the office branches and the board was based on the orbital station. It was there, where she was planned to meet one of the many she had contacted for the task at hand...

 

[Anatoli Sidorov]

And there she was, standing in the dark alone, her 2 twin Plasma canons at the bow and stern, a series of Flack guns, 12 on the armored hull port and starboard side along with two twin proton torpedo launchers one on each broadside. She looked like nothing either the Imperial or the Republican ships. Her shape and hull was inspired from a ship whose technology was lost in the vast spaces of time. Her name? Indomitable. She was my first ship and flagship. Her role? To protect the other spaceships in my fleet that they only existed to be filled with cargo and transport it.

My fleet itself wasn’t at all comparable to any other of the star fleets that sailed the space. A total of five ships was all that I could afford. That’s also all this bankrupt ship builder was able to build. His designs weren’t regarded as noteworthy from the rest of the galaxy and the only reason I was able to afford them was because the man was desperate to feed his family.

Along with Indomitable I purchased two “sister ships” that acted more than fast attack sloops with six Turbolasers and a compliment of smaller flack guns and proton torpedo launchers again inspired from designs of ships from the long past. Where normally used to be depth chargers they were replaced with smoke barrels that create a large smoke screen that were supposed to conceal the ship. Finally I purchased two general purpose cargo ships from the same era as the sloops.

So along with Indomitable, I had the Black Swan and Rochester for sloops and Diamond Knot and Cape Frio as my cargo ships. The sloops and the flagship could carry themselves some cargo but it wasn’t viable to establish myself as a space transport company if I only had ships of war. Manning them wasn’t a problem since most of their functions were automated and the shipbuilder installed for me a general command console onto the bridge of Indomitable and slaved the rest of the ships to it while creating a single key with DNA recognition technologies for manual override. As an extra safety measure he disguised it as a dog tag writing my name, date of birth and place of birth on it. It was a nice touch from his side. To return the gesture I promised to buy his shipyard when I got the money to do so.

Once my fleet was ready to depart I entered Indomitable and emerged from the shipyard and once I was way clear from any gravitational fields I stopped the ships and placed them on a diamond formation with Rochester and Black Swan on spots No 2 and 3, Diamond Knot and Cape Frio occupying spots No 4 and 5 while Indomitable was at the top of the formation. Now I had ships to start transporting goods across the galaxy. I had already started an intergalactic cargo transfer company. Since the start the start of the ad campaign I avoided checking my mails to avoid committing myself to any contract that I might not be able to complete and given my fleet size I couldn’t go hunt for extremely big and well paying contracts from the get go. I needed to keep my brain in my head in order to avoid going bankrupt myself. First order of business was to go back to my HQ and rest for the night. Tomorrow a new dawn would rise and new horizons would be conquered.

Come the following day I moved my relic of a computer to my personal quarters in Indomitable as I could finally move out the hole I called home. Last thing I took out out was my interplanetary skiff and docked it next to the “captain’s boat” on board Indomitable. After packing my stuff on board the ship I entered the bridge and controlling my whole fleet I set sail for my first client. According to the email the client wanted to transfer some spare parts from the factory to a shipyard. Just before I went to hyper drive I reversed the engines bringing the whole fleet to a stop. It wasn’t that I couldn’t fit the cargo but that the delivery was on the same planet. My company wasn’t made for this kind of shipping. The profit from this kind of jobs, regarding the expenses for my fleet was way below equal. Even to break even I would have to overcharge the client. That would be a no go. I needed something interplanetary to pay the bills. This job wouldn’t do.

I moved away from the hyper road and stationed myself a bit further and hovered in place reading through the mails I had received. Nothing that fitted my criteria came through. I was about to quit the search for today when a new mail popped up on my screen. A company requested transport of HVC from Halcyon to the Minos Sector. Payment on delivery and per amount of cargo delivered. This sounded interesting. The email had a date and time for me to be present otherwise the contract would be invalid. It sounded too good to be true but I would take my chances. After locking my ships into their relative position with Indomitable I initiated the hyper jump and allowed the autopilot to do its thing.

After an uneventful voyage in hyperspace, with me practicing on my Grand piano settled in Indomitable's mess hall the whining of the hyperdrive ceased summoning to the bridge to manually steer the convoy to my destination. Section X3-A7. Checking the map on the bridge I steered the convoy to the area where the orbital station was orbiting. With the engines at minimum power I took my time absorbing the surrounding area in my mind while my subconscious was calculating potential trade routes and potential threats that might linger in the area. After requesting for a spot at an anchorage for my ships and stating my intentions for a meeting with Aphotic Industries chairman regarding shipping of cargo across the Galaxy. After settling on a spot, I went to my quarters to put on my three piece black and white suit while exchanging the hip holster of the RSh-12 for a shoulder one that would ensure concealing it under the overcoat. The moment I was ready went to the topside hangar where I prepared and sailed the "Captain's boat" to the docking area of the station where I was escorted the the waiting room of miss Karia's office.

 

[Karia Fat'sa]

The station was busy. Traders and ships came and went from the site, while various alien merchants conducted business in the many different levels of the station. Military presence had drastically decreased in exchange for private-owned henchmen, all baring the Aphotic Industries insignia. The underworld was rather active in this part of the galaxy. Kantiir Sector, after decades of wars, had devolved into a war-torn sector crawling with any kind of ill-conduct.

Alas, Halcyon, the presumed capital world of the Sith in the region, had remained a crossroad.

"Please follow me, sir." the young Nautolan female gestured to the man. The personnel on the company's sections of the station was rather diverse. From Togrutas and Twileks, to Nautolans and Duros, to Humans and Zeltrons, all found a place in the offices of the organization, giving flesh and bones to the body of the Aphotic Industries.

The offices themselves were decorated in typical Imperial fashion, though with no little liberty of additional rich touches. The dark steel walls were dotted with monitors parroting reports from the galactic markets, tracking shipment values and highlighting reports from the planetside. Long white and red fabrics dressed parts of the ceilings and walls, while chandeliers emitted white light.

The CEO's office was a large chamber, with a fountain of what seemed to be fresh water in the middle, surrounded by little if any furnature, save for a large rectangular office at the farthest side, with its back against the transparesteel window, wide enough to offer view to the large station ahead, and the planet in the distance.

Karia was dressed with a heavy dark green coat, beneath which an elegant red fabric sealed her body within. Black decorative straps bound all the way up to the throat, and out to the palms, refusing to show any real detail of her. A black eyepatch concealed her left eye, its lace passed over the black hair, waxed and bound to a tight bun over her neck.

"Your voyage was safe, and free of troubles, I hope?" Karia spoke up, turning from the view of the window to face the man. "Deep Space is a treacherous place to traverse nowadays."

 

[Valia Muqai]

Fire burned within. Hazdrabal's bloodlust blinded him to the will his possessor bestowed upon him. It did not matter. Nothing did. It was his path that of destruction and rage; To be chosen by the Adepts was to wield power much greater than his own, already mighty strength. The fact their presence was demanding and fatiguing was irrelevant, to him.

As his hands was brought aloft, as if guided by muscles not of his own, his fingers twisted into a malformed curl. The Force around him screamed in defiance, and yet her voice was not enough to resist both his' and Valia's amalgamated drive for mayhem. As the invisible fabric of the Force shifted, the vile tendrils of darkness whirled around the she-warriors. The lightsabers flying from their hands, as if no resistance was offered, spiraling fast against the Sith band.

Hazdrabal instincts kicked in, ducking himself down as one of the blades flew past, only to be planted deep into the Sith warrior that walked behind him. A path drawn in mimicking of the others.

Three blades.

Three Dead.

A score placing the foe on a head start.

The black tendrils of Death swirling around the dying, as if devouring their essence before their bodies even fell. The lightsabers burning their insides, as if marblefied in their victims.

In a moment of chaos, the foe cast a shower of blaster fire, blazing the ship's corridor with greenish laser.

Hazdrabal swung both his blades to deflect the enemy fire, in a desynchrony with the other Sith behind him. A suppression serving only for a single moment.

The Sith tide was finally halted against the bulwark.

Now, the time had come for the piercing blow to puncture through.

The three she-warriors jumped forth, the jetpacks mounted on their backs roaring with energy, hurling them ahead like torpedoes made of flesh and cortosis. Tendrils of black will giving power to them, as they cast a storm of lightning, chained between them, strong enough to melt the lightbars above and tear off the very consoles that arrayed the corridor's walls. A wave of Force energy beaming of the foul stench of Death, like meteors descending through the hailstorm.

Valia cared nothing for the unintended collateral deaths caused by her disarmament of gold-saber wielding soldiers in front of them, she hardly even noticed it at all. She was focused on the carnage and inflicting said carnage to the soldiers right in front of them. Her bloodlust mixing with Hazdrabal's. Though, she failed to realize that her trick had given the foe a headstart and subsequently contributed to the near-unstoppable tide of the Dark Crusade forces being halted.

Using the force once more, she'd attempt to halt their advances mid air and pull them down onto the ground, then attempting to block their storm lightning with the lightsaber Hazdrabal wielded. Which made Valia realize that these soldiers for sure were no Jedi at all. Irrelevant information for the most part, though perhaps useful in her attempt to figure out a strategy against them.

 

[Anatoli Sidorov]

The station was busy. Traders and ships came and went from the site, while various alien merchants conducted business in the many different levels of the station. Military presence had drastically decreased in exchange for private-owned henchmen, all baring the Aphotic Industries insignia. The underworld was rather active in this part of the galaxy. Kantiir Sector, after decades of wars, had devolved into a war-torn sector crawling with any kind of ill-conduct.

Alas, Halcyon, the presumed capital world of the Sith in the region, had remained a crossroad.

"Please follow me, sir." the young Nautolan female gestured to the man. The personnel on the company's sections of the station was rather diverse. From Togrutas and Twileks, to Nautolans and Duros, to Humans and Zeltrons, all found a place in the offices of the organization, giving flesh and bones to the body of the Aphotic Industries.

The offices themselves were decorated in typical Imperial fashion, though with no little liberty of additional rich touches. The dark steel walls were dotted with monitors parroting reports from the galactic markets, tracking shipment values and highlighting reports from the planetside. Long white and red fabrics dressed parts of the ceilings and walls, while chandeliers emitted white light.

The CEO's office was a large chamber, with a fountain of what seemed to be fresh water in the middle, surrounded by little if any furnature, save for a large rectangular office at the farthest side, with its back against the transparesteel window, wide enough to offer view to the large station ahead, and the planet in the distance.

Karia was dressed with a heavy dark green coat, beneath which an elegant red fabric sealed her body within. Black decorative straps bound all the way up to the throat, and out to the palms, refusing to show any real detail of her. A black eyepatch concealed her left eye, its lace passed over the black hair, waxed and bound to a tight bun over her neck.

"Your voyage was safe, and free of troubles, I hope?" Karia spoke up, turning from the view of the window to face the man. "Deep Space is a treacherous place to traverse nowadays."

"In chaos and danger we prevail." I responded practically stating the reason behind my company was founded. "Yet this journey as you mentioned was executed without any setbacks or dangers to the fleet of mine. So where is the cargo in question?" I said without making a show of my confidence to execute any cargo transfer that the contract would require me to load on my ships.

Once I finished with my answer a business smile appeared on my face while my gaze got locked on her right eye since her left one was covered with an eye patch.

On the background of my brain my ears focused on the running water on the fountain. Something felt unnatural to it. It made a bit of sense because a pump was responsible for lifting the water up and letting it caress the marble down to the puddle but there was something unnatural with the sound. as if something existed in the marble that didn't belong there. Maybe a hidden camera or microphone for security or espionage reasons? Who wouldn't love first hand industrial espionage by listening to the private conversations of on of the biggest arms manufacturer? Should I speak up about it? The first rule of safe passages of cargo was that no enemy parties would know the origin and the destination of the goods. It's not that I couldn't stand up to any smugglers or pirates and of course I would have the necessary paperwork to go through established checkpoints. After all we were transporting declared cargo and conducting legitimate business. I never cared for what purpose the cargo I transferred would be used. My care was to get the cargo from point A to point B and get paid. In this chaos of a galaxy with it's own three front war that was going on, my task was just to make profit where others feared to venture. Risk taking was part of the business and that's how I dominated in Terraria's shipping industry.

"I see that you take security very seriously around here." I finally said ending the debate in my head. By her answer I would know how to react to my finding in the fountain.

 

[Empor]

The conflict was narrow, deadly and fast-paced. The powers invested in it far exceeding the comperhension of those who partook in the mortal battle. In a single moment, the time warped and twisted. Though eyes stared in horror the blades clashing and the blaster fire pouring down on the Marauder troops, the Black Tendrils stretching from the very heart of Tarraba Prime yet refused to give in, moving the forces deployed like pawns on a game board. The crimson tendrils of the Sith Adepts possessing the Marauder horde, demanding action in form of slave-deed and sacrificial suicide for the tinniest gain.

Hazdrabal's blades were brought forth, deflecting the light coming from the blaster fire ahead like a shield to an army of wicked slaves. The she-warrior's power armour giving in, flame tongues escaping the jetpack that was crashing against the deck, oppressed by the will of the adepts, conjured in a mighty Force Crush. The Black Tendrils already abandoning the doomed she-warrior, jumping beyond time to the other who had made it past the Sith ranks, the lightning emitted from her already burning one of the vanguard Marauders with the wrath of untold curses and mourned souls lost in a river of blood.

The blade of the other she-warrior guided through the block of the Sith, carving a highway of Death through the Heart that pumped the foul poisons in the blood stream, perhaps for the last of times before sharing its contents with the deck, burned by the glazing plasma of the lightsaber.

The fires of war burned, as the two sides clashed in determination fuelled by uncaring masters, puppeteering both contesting bands into a suicidal dellirium of carnage.

Carnage.

Unmask.

Unhinged.

Unending.

A vow held true by the Dark Crusade.

A promise manifesting in the materialization of promises preyed upon by demons of doubt and reason, now broken free by the will of the Dark Side.

Blood splattered across the narrow deck, as Marauders pushed onward, only to be cleaved down by the she-warriors, baring the mark of the Seven-Pointed Star, pale of colour and hymns save that of bloodspill.

The Marauders all branded with the very same shape. Twisted and drenched crimson, planted on their septic skin by the fiery touch of the branding metal. A mockery of a symbol shrouded in ignorance and broken vows, the Dark Crusade relished it in the ensuing bloodletting, for through such alone practice, the minds were freed of the chains placed upon them since birth or creation.

The more the blood, the more the blight.

The more the Adepts strengthened, by Death summoned near of their most foul a deed.

The nerves denied any adherence to reason. The mind itself cast out of all but passion. In each moment passing, the body experiencing the stimulation derriving from many a times Death and Rebirth, collapsing the dam of sanity for a flood of blasphemous divinity in the form of Dark Side ecstasy...

 

[Karia Fat'sa]

The man's senses were heightened. Karia offered but a slight tilt of the head, her motions as firm as the posture she preserved, a mirroring of the Aphotic Industries' behavior in the Galactic Trade Network.

"The Core is accustomed to Peace. Tradition has an imprint on mentality." she stated. Her voice carrying the tone of authority as well as calculated exposition.

"Safety is the illusion of control. But that is besides the reason of your visit, is it not?"

She stepped forth, circling around the office to approach the man by the fountain. As she passed the office, she picked a datapad of which the screen activated as soon as her fingers pressed on the screen, grasping on it.

"The contract is for Minos Sector. What I am interested in is how much of the cargo you will be able to deliver... The pay is on percentage."

It was not the first time she had to deal with one such inconvenience. Aphotic Industries Inc was a massive corporation, having enough capital to fund their own subsidiary transportation companies, with many even rumouring of warships built to support the merchant convoys of the corporation in certain hyperlanes, beyond the control of the Empire or the Republic. This case, though, was different. It was Karia's design that outsourcing the transportation when it came to War Risks, would be beneficial for the corporation on the long run. Their presence in underworld-infested planets was undeniable, while the use of force to gain control of strategic assets had been a topic of many holonet articles. With the Empire in civil war, Karia was meant to limit the organization's direct interference with the Sith, as the growing political unrest in the Republic bred of opportunity to those who managed to align their interests with the Republic's.....

"There are several hundred thousand tons of cargo that are due for delivery in places flagged by the Galactic Trade Network as Warzones. The Civil War in the Empire only made business more... challenging... I am currently on the lookout for organizations reliable enough I can trust to ship HVC."

She offered the datapad to the man.

"I am offering Seven hundred per hundred-tons delivered in Minos Sector. You should know that my contacts are on pickup and delivery points. Breaking through the Republic blockade along the Rimma Trade Route and any collateral from pirate activity in the region, is your side of the deal."

 

[Anatoli Sidorov]

Being shut down on my concern wasn't something that I anticipated. But well it wasn't my loss if her plans got leaked to the enemies. I could even put this into my profit and maybe get a deal out of the Republic forces for free passage through the blockade.

"Each one of the 3 merchant ships you see can carry 7,800 tons of cargo so by multiplying this number by 2 we get a total of 15,600 tons per voyage. Considering that, given your numbers, that's 109.200 galactic credits per successful voyage. We also accept payment in gold bars if interested."

Damn I might be able to buy the shipyard sooner than expected. The ship builder would be so happy. Since I had the details of the transportation the nature of my company would allow for my convoys to sail through war zones no matter the blockade. There were waivers that I could sign and allow my entrance to these zones. Also given the areas I would be entering I don't think there would be any control while going in but only when going out. Now since there was no more need for any negotiations I would just bring my cargo ships to load the cargo in their bays and we would move on to our destination. Our conversation with Karia was fruitful into getting us our contract and now we could make a name for further contracts to make my trips more profitable. There are always ways to make profits. Legally anyways.