Greater Calling

[Rugs]

Kaas City glimmered in the distance. Aurelius emerged from his speeder, shaggy hair blowing in the thick, humid air as he looked to the city from the height of an Order training outpost atop a short peak a few dozen miles from the capital city. Even from this distant vantage point, the city and its towers dominated the view as they rose from their boggy surroundings and stretched off over the horizon.

Aurelius checked his chronometer. A few minutes early. That was well and good. The outpost behind him was a simple facility. A landing pad large enough to hold a shuttle or a few speeders, connected to a simple metal prefab building with the Order’s sigil emblazoned over its door. A small sparring yard lay on the building’s backside, and an observation deck extended to the edge of the overlook's rocky face.

Aurelius leaned on the deck’s railing, golden eyes focused on the distant city, with the Sith Temple at its heart. By all means, this evening’s business could have been handled there. He’d summoned Moor for a matter that easily could have been over and done with in a few minutes within his office at the Cult of Ascension’s headquarters. But he’d spent too long within the Temple already, and it was an easy thing to command the outpost cleared for a private meeting.

Being a Dark Lord had some perks, now and then.

Aurelius reviewed the meeting’s purpose in his head. Lady Syko, a Praetor of Strife, was dead. As far as most of the Order knew, she met her end at the hand of Karn Albrecht, Darth Viren’s self-aggrandizing apprentice. An impressive achievement, for an apprentice to slay a Praetor after discovering she meant to stick a knife in the back of one of his master’s most loyal lieutenants.

But Albrecht had not acted alone. No, though he’d claimed most of the credit to anyone who’d listen, Moor had been involved. This, to Aurelius, was far more interesting than the Arkanian blowing his own horn.

Moor was reclusive, but no stranger to Aurelius. He had been the one to raise Moor from apprentice to Knight, and had offered occasional training, years ago. On paper, in record, Moor was a Knight of Strife. In practice, he answered to Aurelius.

Today, Aurelius would align theory and practice. It was rare for Sith to move between the Cults once claimed. This was a matter of intense selection as much as it was practicality — squabbling amongst themselves over the Order’s members would only breed dissent, fracture purpose and weaken the Sith’s ability to carry out Renata’s will.

But as with any rule, there were exceptions.

Aurelius’ young face looked skyward as a slender speeder sliced through the air. Come, Moor. Come and claim your prize.

[Blue]

Moor had received the call of Darth Aurelius and, naturally, he would not tarry when answering. The recent mess that the assassin had found himself in plagued his mind, far more than he would ever let a creature like Karn Albrecht know. The pompous fool was shielded from the potential storm by his master's name. Moor did not have such a luxury. Allowing the pale man to take the lion's share of the credit was not just an interesting experiment to the lithe Sith; it was an act of self-preservation. If others knew that he was involved and took umbrage, either because their fortunes would fall with Syko or due to anger that the assassin was involved in a traitorous ploy, he would have nothing to defend himself with... other than to flee the Order. If that had been his only option, Moor would have taken Karn Albrecht's head before disappearing into the wild galaxy. The idea that the pale man would be alive to gloat over his fall would be a thorn in his mind for his whole life. Though the gift and the gloating note that Karn had left in his quarters set off alarm bells in his twisted, paranoid mind. He's planning something, or already set something in motion. He took the credit, but I do not think he lied to his master. No... I think he may have told his own version of the truth. I must be on guard at all times- find and kill find and kill find and kill- What did he say? Doesn't matter, he must die, nobody would know- He would know- Moor's head twitched as the speeder brought him closer to his destination: a training outpost. A strange location to meet with an Inner Sanctum lord. Quiet. Out of the way. The assassin shivered. The assassin's fear only grew as his silent tread brought him through the abandoned facility. It was clear that the Dark Lord had used his authority to remove the people working and training here, so that only himself and Moor were present. No, he cannot mean to kill me. What need would he have to prevent witnesses? He could just as easily have destroyed me in his quarters at the Temple; what purpose does it serve to have a moment of isolation to do so? Moor did not know. The fear grew. While it was true to say that he belonged to the Cult of Strife, in reality his interaction with other members of this Cult were minimal. He was given orders that sent him out alone, which suited him fine but left him devoid of any connections within its structure. In reality, he had always been more of Darth Aurelius' monster than he had ever been Darth Viren's. Moor knew in his black, fearful heart that he was still far too useful to destroy... He swiftly arrived at the Dark Lord's location, dropping the cloak that rendered him invisible to the senses so that the Inner Sanctum lord would be able to tell he was here. It would not do to have such a powerful person think he was attempting to sneak up on them. As the Darth stared into the distance, Moor kneeled behind him. "You summoned me, my lord," Moor said, his hoarse, almost machine like voice breaking the silence.

[Rugs]

It was easy to pick up Moor as he arrived. Even before the strange little Sith dropped the veil concealing himself within the Force, Aurelius had an inkling, felt a whisper of something almost there aboard that speeder, that spoke to Moor’s arrival. Who else would dare come to the outpost — ordered cleared by the High Archon himself — otherwise?

As Moor’s vessel arrived, Aurelius maintained his position, staring out at the jungle-covered expanse before them that gave way to Kaas City and the Sith Temple, in their splendor.

Distress. Wariness. Fear.

Moor was an... unusual creature. Powerful emotions swirled ever around him, like winds around the cyclonic core of a powerful storm. For a Sith, this was not unusual, but there something about him was different, just off compared to his peers. They all had their traumas — the Dark Side’s path was riddled with them — but not all were so affected as Moor.

Hunger.

Yet that very same strangeness — those social deficiencies and quirks of character that pushed Moor away from the Order’s larger social circles made him a useful little creature, for someone with a hand to guide him.

Aurelius could guide Moor. Lead him up his chain, if the assassin would but listen.

"You summoned me, my lord."

For a time, Aurelius stared into the distance, apparenlty lost in his own thoughts as the sun drifted lazily on toward the horizon. Finally, he inhaled deeply, and the Force swelled around him. At once, the place seemed to fill with his presence, with power pressing down upon the air itself, that receded as he sighed out through his nose. It was not a put-upon display, meant to cow the already-tamed assassin behind him.

It simply was.

“Praetor Syko has fallen,” he said simply, stating a fact they both knew to be true. “Dead at the hand of Darth Viren’s apprentice. Karn Albrecht.” Aurelius turned his head slightly, enough to regard Moor from the corner of a golden eye and to reveal the tip of a fang exposed through a wry smile. “But you already know this, don’t you?”

“Now Albrecht tells anyone who’ll listen that he — with some sort of help from you--tracked her down and put a stop to some grand plot to off one of Viren’s lieutenants.” Aurelius’ tone said he didn’t believe the whole of that story. Albrecht was a loudmouth who needed to learn to mind his steps. Aurelius wondered how long the pale boy would last in one of his old gangs on Metellos before he wound up at the bottom of a waste treatment pool with duracrete blocks around his feet.

“Treasonous work, most times, but it looks like there was enough evidence to support Albrecht’s claim. So now he’s a hero.” Aurelius turned around to Moor now, leaning against the railing with his arms folded across his chest. “And you, by association.

“But you take no credit. While he takes all the glory, you kneel before me with a troubled soul.” Aurelius tilted his head slightly, giving Moor a look as though he were weighing the whole of his existence.

“Why?”

[Blue]

The assassin did not break the silence after he spoke. The Darth would respond in his own time, when he was ready, and not a moment sooner... at least, not for someone as low down the Chain as Moor himself. The aura that surrounded Darth Aurelius grew thicker, pressing down on his shoulders and causing the lithe Sith to break into a light sweat, but he knew that this was not an act to suppress him; it was simply a natural presence that came with being so immersed in Dark Side energies. Moor licked his thin, cracked lips. One day, I will own power like this. I must climb higher. The Sith Lord began to speak, announcing what he had heard. Moor, before he and Albrecht had set off for Syko's Rhen Var estate, had sent Aurelius a report on what was happening. It was partly to ensure that someone else knew what had occurred in case he was killed and Albrecht survived to turn the tables, but also to make certain that the man before him could understand the situation more clearly. After all, Ascension was responsible for enforcing discipline within the Order, and though Strife aimed to take care of the issue itself, it was not truly their place. Still, he could not help but feel a surge of contempt at the sound of the pale man's name. Moor felt nothing but hatred towards the arrogant little sop, whose only real skill seemed to lie in twisting social situations to his advantage. Albrecht's mind was weak; he would be easy to break, and if he were captured and tortured, he would quickly be broken. But a questioned had been asked, and an answer needed to be given. "Lady Syko's scheme had many players, my lord," Moor said, still kneeling. He had not yet been bidden to rise, and so had remained where he was. "There will be many whose fortunes fell with her. Many of them will likely disappear, but there will be other people that are too useful or strong to be so easily wasted through execution. Powerful people, now with grievances. I thought that Karn Albrecht would be... best equipped to deal with such reprisals." Despite himself, the assassin could not help but feel the shadow of a smirk flicker across his ruined mouth. It faded quickly, however. The pale man seemed to have a knack for squirming his way free in social situations and bending things to his favour. "I am an assassin. I operate best if my involvement in things goes without much, if any, notice. Glory and accolades are, at best, mere trinkets, and are worthless to me; there are far more important things to be gained," Moor continued. "But besides all that, I was curious to see what would win out over Karn Albrecht in the end. His pride, taking all the credit, seeing his star rise... or his fear, of being exposed as deceiving his master, the shame of being discovered as an incompetent." There was a burst of strange static as Moor cleared his aching throat, half laughing. "Though it would seem he has sidestepped that particular experiment quite well. I fear he may have taken his story and made... alterations in regard to my purpose and ability during the... event."

[Rugs]

Oh, what’s this? Aurelius arched a brow, just so, at the distaste that came rolling from Moor like heat from an oven left open. It was hardly rare for tempers to flare between Sith — especially among the Order’s younger members — but this was something different than run-of-the-mill dislike.

This was real. Aurelius wondered Moor’s apparent hate for Albrecht was a singular thing, or if it was a mutual affair between the two young Sith. Considering the contents of Albrecht’s report and his unsubtle hints that Moor couldn’t fully be trusted...

He half-chuckled — a sound that didn’t quite escape his throat — and turned back to the vista that sprawled before him as Moor spoke again.

The Knight was modest, as far as Sith went. Praise, glory, recognition — the very things his mission partner seemed to feed on — were of little consequence to Moor, as long as he could continue climbing his chain. “And now you’ve had your experiment turned against you,” he said idly, “as much as Albrecht is able to at this point.”

Aurelius felt for Moor, to an extent. When he’d joined the Sith, a decade ago now, he’d sought only sanctuary. Safety from his abusive mother. A place where he could find enough power for himself that none would threaten him. Once he’d found it — once he rose to Lord, anointed by Renata herself — he’d cared little for any further advancement or recognition or praise. He’d found what he wanted. Fame among the Order was just a byproduct.

For years, he’d resisted Renata’s call to rise higher. To this day, he suspected she’d have banished him from the Order for his insolence, his refusal to obey, were it not for the unusual understanding they shared. But even Nieraan Onin couldn’t resist the Empress’ call forever.

“You nearly gave the game away to Albrecht,” he said, returning to the here-and-now as a humid breeze blew across the observation deck from the jungle canopy. “Yes, some of Syko’s... friends still need to be dealt with, and true, some may present a threat to Albrecht, but do you think Strife and Viren’s most loyal won’t rally around what he — what you — uncovered? Albrecht may be a blowhard, but you endanger yourself if you think he’s a fool. Viren would not have chosen him if he was. We,” he said, with an emphasis that implied incredible weight, “do not waste our time with fools. You should know that, more than anyone.”

“But you had the good sense to notify me,” he said, looking over his shoulder again, “so your position isn’t as precarious as it could be. Lucky you. Which brings me to the reason I called you here.”

“Though... before we get to that,” he said, turning around fully now. He smirked subtly and amusement flashed in his golden eyes as if he saw some joke that yet eluded Moor. “I don’t know if it’s settled in for either of you what you’ve done. An acolyte and a knight, challenging a traitorous Lord and triumphing. It’s hard enough to get Sith your age to get lunch together without fucking it up, and you two uncover a secret plot, waltz into Syko’s home, and take her down without suffering any significant injuries in the process.”

Aurelius’s smirk spread to a full grin. “So in spite of whatever there is between you two, it seems you’re a pretty gods-damn effective team.”He fell to silence, stopping just short of the edge, waiting for Moor to realize what he was getting at.

[Blue]

Still kneeling, Moor remained silent as Darth Aurelius pointed out the mistakes that he had made while dealing with Albrecht. Of course, the Dark Lord was correct, and the assassin could not help but feel foolish. He had allowed the pale man to steal the initiative and control the narrative of the action after the death of Syko, which had placed Moor in a bit of a predicament; Albrecht had painted a convincing picture, and the connections that he had that the lithe Sith had attempted to use to his own advantage were a double-edged sword and were wielded against him all too well. I will learn from this failure. If Moor had not sent the information to Darth Aurelius behind the back of Albrecht and the Cult of Strife itself, the assassin's situation would have probably become far more dire than it currently was, just as the man before him had stated. Now, that act had become his saving grace... and from the tone of voice Darth Aurelius had employed, that choice might have even born some unexpected fruit. Before he had any more time to absorb this, the Dark Lord continued speaking. A slight frown began to form on the assassin's face at the Darth's words. He was more than aware of what the two of them had achieved. Through a mix of misdirection and sneak attacks, they had been able to take down someone not only of higher station, but of greater power; perhaps greater than the pair of them combined. While this was an achievement of sorts, it was not as if it could truly stand out in the history of the Sith. Apprentices killed their masters more often than many cared to admit, through a mix of arrogance and subterfuge and (more rarely) raw power. Of course, it helped that Moor had abused Albrecht's ego to convince the pale man that he had also been the target of assassination when, in reality, Syko had no idea that the young Sith was even present at the Vikar estate. Even now, Albrecht still laboured under the lie that he was important enough for a Sith Lady to purposely target. Moor's train of thought was suddenly derailed as Darth Aurelius' words insinuated towards something terrible. The hint had not escaped the assassin; revulsion bubbled up inside him at the mere concept of being forced to work together with the pale fool once again- No, can't, won't- The Darth is going to make you- I HATE HIM I HATE HIM I HATE HIM I- He could die. Opportunity is easy in combat. One wrong move... Moor's head twitched. "... Our skills may have a certain synergy," the lithe Sith said slowly. He would never do something as stupid as to directly correct a person of such power, but at the same time... he truly despised Karn Albrecht. "But his mind is weak. Had I not realized Lady Syko's plot in time, I would have broken Karn Albrecht." There was no pomp or arrogance in Moor's tone as he said this; just the pure certainty of experience. Albrecht had been easily disabled by the mental attack he had received, to the point where all he could do was summon brute force in an attempt to overwhelm it. This might have worked once, maybe even twice, but Moor was confident that each time would wear down the pale man worse than the last. Until the fool's mind broke in its entirety. Regardless of the Dark Lord's words, he could not help but see Albrecht as a fool. A slimly cunning, conniving fool, perhaps. But at his core, a fool, nevertheless. "I will concede that his ability to twist situations to his advantage on a social scale far outstrip mine; my purpose has never been to bend people to my will. Only to break and kill them," Moor continued. "Of course, if my lord commands me, I will obey." Moor raised his head to look at the Dark Lord; the first time he had done so since he had arrived at the outpost. "But I believe that Karn Albrecht is walking towards the same path that Lady Syko stood upon; to grasp power at the expense of the whole, for his own purpose and nothing else." Not that I can say anything, really; my path does not look all that different. The Chain must be climbed at all costs; it is the only Way. "There will come a time, I feel, that Albrecht and I will meet at cross-purposes. And should he pass on, unlike with Lady Syko, there will be no-one who will step forward to take the credit."

[Rugs]

A crooked smile tugged at Aurelius’ lips as he felt the wheels turning within Moor’s head. He wondered what expressions played across the little Sith’s broken face. A pity, then, that Moor so often hid it. “So it seems,” he said blandly as Moor answered. Certain synergy was putting it lightly, going on Albrecht’s account of the fight with Syko and even Moor’s own telling. Even if the contrasting reports weren’t entirely accurate, the two young Sith’s achievement stood alone as testament to their ability.

Moor went on, espousing further distaste for Viren’s student and elaborating on his perceived weaknesses. Aurelius took Moor’s word for it. He’d watched Albrecht duel once, against his own student, Janse Fashad. Albrecht was unhinged at the time, for whatever reason, but Janse took dominating control of the fight after unleashing his talent with fear on Karn’s unprepared mind.

Aurelius was half-listening to Moor, but at the last, his attention perked up at near the last thing the assassin said.

“Oh?” Aurelius smirked at Moor, leaning easily on the railing behind him. “And are you so dedicated to the whole that you’d throw away any chance to climb your sacred chain?” Aurelius snorted a laugh. The question didn’t demand an answer--they both knew. “You and Albrecht aren’t so different, if that’s your view of him. You are both Sith, after all.

“But regardless, do what you will with him,” he said, waving dismissively to signal the topic’s closure. “I won’t bother immersing myself in the personal affairs of an acolyte and a Knight, though this budding rivalry may do you both some good. But, if you draw Viren’s ire, you’ll be dealing with that alone.”

Aurelius stood and stretched, turning an eye again toward the evening sky’s deepening red. He’d spent longer than anticipated discussing the results of Moor’s latest job. Maybe that was fitting, in some way. At any rate, it was time to get on with the show.

“You’ve done good work for me these years since I raised you to Knight, Moor,” he said. “Even before, when you were an acolyte. But despite your work, your allegiance lies with Strife, where my direct control of you is... limited.” If Viren wished it to be, anyway, though the Sanctum maintained a general understanding to stay out of each other’s affairs.

“The true reason I brought you here is to change that. Beginning today, you will report to me directly, as a Knight of Ascension.”

[Blue]

Moor could not stop the shudder that rippled through him as the Darth pinpointed the assassin's own thoughts, as if the man had sneaked into his head and dug around in the Knight's mind. Moor doubted that this was the case, as such an act by such a powerful adept of the Force would have left an impact; Lord Aurelius was not famed for gentle manipulation, after all. But the Dark Lord knew the lithe Sith's thoughts too well. Thankfully, he seemed disinclined to follow up on that line of questioning, content to allow whatever happened between himself and Albrecht to play out however it will. The warning that the Dark Lord would not interfere if Darth Viren got involved did not reassure but nor was it surprising to the assassin. As such, though Moor did not go so far as to breathe a sigh of relief, there was a slight unwinding of tension in his spring-like body, followed by a simple, "Yes, my lord," with his head still bowed. His head swiftly snapped up, however, once he heard Darth Aurelius' intention to transfer him into the Cult of Ascension, under his direct command. Is it a trick- No, no, why deceive? What would he gain- He knows how I can kill, even those above me- OUT OF REACH! HAHAHAHA- Moor's head twitched. His twisted thoughts cleared as his mind raced, considering the new opportunities this sudden elevation would bring him. For so long, he had laboured without a master, without the favour of a lord or lady, without any possible avenue of retreat if another Sith were to take offence to him. But under Darth Aurelius, many would not dare to act openly against him again. No more Lady Syko's using him as a pawn so blatantly without fear of reprisal. It would not secure his perpetual safety; in this Order, nothing could. But with this... he stood a chance. A better chance at climbing the Chain. There was a moment of silence as the featureless mask stared up at the Dark Lord. Then, a long-fingered hand rose up to the faceplate. There was a hiss, and the reflective plastiglass was removed, revealing the pale, mutilated face and the long, greasy dark hair. A pair of eyes, a once pale blue now fading into yellow and surrounded by dark veins, peered up at the Darth, refusing to squint shut even as the dying light of the sun sent needles of pain into his skull. The torn mouth opened, the buzzing, synthetic voice clearer for meeting the fresh air. "I am your weapon to wield, my lord," Moor stated simply. Nothing more needed to be said. Though a flicker of vicious amusement played about his face as he contemplated the expression upon Albrecht's face once this news reached his ears. That alone would have made this gift priceless.

[Rugs]

Silence hung in the air for a heavy moment between the Dark Lord and the young Knight. Aurelius felt a shifting in the Force around Moor. Surprise. Subtle, beneath the chaotic surface, but undeniable. And something more. Gratitude? Perhaps.

Relief? Almost.

Aurelius arched a brow, ever so slightly, as Moor’s thin fingers lifted to raise the mask from his face. The visage below was one Aurelius had seen before, but rarely; Moor seemed reluctant to reveal his face to others. Aurelius held a few guesses at the reasoning, but couldn’t help but feel a sort of pitying contempt for the Sith’s scarred face before him.

We all carry our scars, he thought, keenly aware of those his mother left crisscrossing his back, some more visibly than others.

“Of course you are,” he said simply, almost casually. Moor was Aurelius’ tool, his little monster to direct as he saw fit. This had always been true, regardless of Moor’s previous position on a hierarchical chart.

“Now,” he continued, “there’s still work to do in cleaning up Syko’s mess. Strife has taken care of her closest friends and given them over to our authority for... exanimation.” The word carried an unsubtle weight. Drawing Ascension’s attention could result in anything ranging from particularly harsh interrogations to outright torture and debilitating mental intrusions. And that was for the innocent.

“But that’s not all that needs to be done. Three Sith with tenuous connections to Syko have fled -- two from Korriban and one from Dromund Kaas -- after word spread of her death. At a glance, these Sith shouldn’t have much reason to be concerned. But actions speak, and theirs tell a different story.” Aurelius rolled his neck to the side, popping it as he looked down to Moor. “You will be sent dossiers and all the information we have on their latest whereabouts. Find them. Prioritize bringing them in for interrogation, but if they resist,” Aurelius shrugged, “deal with them however you must.”

[Blue]

Moor's mind whirred through the potential new avenues to power that this transfer to Ascension would open for him. In the Cult of Strife, he had simply been one of many violent creatures, to be used and discarded as his superiors saw fit. But being subordinated directly to the High Archon himself would not only protect him from the random petty schemes of those like Syko, but grant him access to higher realms of information and authority that he had no opportunity to even dream of before. Of course, he was still disposable. Especially if his usefulness waned. But that just meant that he would have to ensure he became as indispensable to Darth Aurelius as possible. Until I grow powerful enough... Moor's head twitched. With his scarred face now visible, it showed more of the physical twitch; his thin lips involuntarily retracted back into a painful rictus, revealing even more of his dull white teeth than could be seen past the hole in his face where his cheek should have been. His vision was growing blurred as the bright sun burdened his sensitive eyes, causing thin trickles of tears to leak down the side of his face as he squinted even harder, reaching the end of his endurance. With a sigh of relief, the assassin put the visor back into place, the painful light dimming down and the needles of agony reducing to a dull ache. Darth Aurelius wasted little time in outlining the next mission that Moor was to be sent on. Some more of Syko's previous acquaintances, seemingly removed enough to avoid the attentions of the Cult of Ascension, had fled Korriban and Dromund Kaas. It was as the High Archon said: if they had no fear from the association of Syko, then they would not have run. And now it was Moor's job to find them and return them for questioning. Or dispatch them, as he saw fit. Fear shivered through him as he thought about hunting down these unknown people. Questions screamed in his mind: Were they as powerful as Syko? Did they have influence in the Order that could be used against him? How many enemies would he make if he killed them? Moor forced himself to calm as he logically thought through these things. If they were as strong or stronger than Syko, then why would they flee? If their reach in the Order was great, why would they associate with Syko's plot to garner more for herself? As for the last... the assassin would always make enemies when he took a life. But now, he could solidify an ally at the same time. And a powerful one at that. "I shall depart as soon as we are finished here, my lord," Moor stated. "These people will yield and return for interrogation, or they will die."

[Rugs]

Aurelius watched Moor’s face twitch as tears gathered in his eyes. For any other being, he might have suspected an upwelling of emotion lay behind the tears — and he certainly felt something from Moor — but not from the strange little assassin. Moor was a creature of oddities, but not that hard to understand with some effort. Emotion flowed through him as powerfully as any of his Sith comrades, but he was not one to be given over to sentimentalities. Not that Aurelius had ever seen.

Not, he concluded with silent amusement, with the setting sun glaring into the Knight’s eyes.

As Moor affirmed his commitment to the task Aurelius had set before him, the Dark Lord nodded. That was a formality, of course. Moor would leave the training facility with a higher position in practice than he’d arrived, even if all that changed on paper was the Cult he reported to. Of course, reporting directly to one of the Sanctum eliminated any room for refusal.

He’d take the task, or he’d die. Moor was powerful, especially for his age, but Sith Knights were replaceable. The fact that he and Karn eliminated Syko without reprisal should have been sufficient to burn that truth into Moor’s mind, if it wasn’t seared in already.

“Good,” Aurelius said. “I have sensed your potential from the first time we met, Moor, and expect great work from you. Don’t fuck this up.”

Even after so long wearing the mantle of one of Renata’s chosen, the bullshit of it all fell away and the old, blunt Aurelius peeked through.

Satisfied with the conclusion of their matters, Aurelius waved Moor off, signaling his dismissal. “Like I said, you’ll receive detailed instructions and dossiers shortly, and a ship has already been reserved for your hunting expedition. Good luck.”

[Blue]

Despite the difficulty of the mission that had been placed on his shoulders and the fear that slithered through him, Moor could not help but feel an ounce of anticipation. If he was able to subdue or kill these three Sith successfully, his gains would be great. Not only in influence by appeasing his new master, but in the experience of hunting those people down. Would it be hard? Of course. But suffering was the greatest of teachers. With a wave of his hand and a few more clarifying words, Darth Aurelius dismissed the assassin from his side. Moor finally stood up from his kneeling position. No more words were needed, and so he said nothing as he left the Dark Lord to his own musings. It was time for Moor to get to work. But before that, there was one last thing that needed to be attended to... The blonde fool's quarters were far less lavish than he would have expected. For a direct apprentice of one of the Inner Sanctum lords, he anticipated silver spoons and wide beds with satin sheets. All the things that made you soft and weak. Such a room would suit one such as that man. But the truth was something far more spartan. Although it had a window with a view, something of a grand luxury for most acolytes, it was no dissimilar to the disused room that Moor himself had. Perhaps Karn was not as valued by Darth Viren as he had thought? The assassin padded around the small space, observing the various things that Karn had placed here: datapads, animal scales, even some diamonds. Diamonds, of all things! He investigated everything, getting a better feel of how the pale man ticked, before leaving a familiar box on the metal table. Then he left. None saw him when he arrived. None saw him when he went. The box was slowly leaking, red liquid beginning to seep onto and stain the table's surface. The lid was open, revealing a broken bottle of wine as the source of the mess. On the inside of the lid was a note, written in a strange, scratchy script, and was signed with a symbol: the sign of the Cult of Ascension. Oh, how power shifts like sand, and plans and schemes turn to ash with a single act. There is no escape from what you are, bosom brother. You are watched, now. So, from this point onwards, whatever it is that you do: Don't. Fuck. Up.