Log:Sith Empire: A Debt of Blood

The first on the list of transgressors is brought to the very heart of the Sith Empire fleet: the Star Destroyer Harbinger. There, Kye comes face-to-face with Darth Ferren to answer for his participation in the political assassination of Admiral Jotinko. All the while being probed for more information as the Sith are on the hunt for all those involved.

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A Debt of Blood

OOC Date: September 24, 2022
Location: Star Destroyer Harbinger, Coruscant space
Participants: Xavier Harcourt, Kye Keraz, Darth Ferren, Tamsin Cas, Imani, Shadra Nim, Sith Empire

-- Xavier --

The Sith knew Xavier was coming. He had sent the message as soon as he had started prepping for the jump from Tatooine. When the Revenant landed, a squad of heavily armoured troopers of the Sith Empire were waiting for them. First to leave the ship is a heavily-cloaked figure: draped in the black robes of a Councilor that billow behind him. The troopers part upon Xavier's approach, standing dutifully in two equal lines.

"Is he ready for my arrival?"

"Yes, sir."

What's left of his cig is snuffed out under a black leather boot, and he continues walking. Knowing full well his passenger, Kye, will be following up behind. Especially with the half dozen barrels trained on him as they go. Without another word, Xavier leads the gaggle through the well-lit yet still incredibly dark corridors until coming to a stop in front of a pair of doors.

The troopers take their marks on either side of the exit as Kye is ushered to stand just behind Xavier. "I advise you to be more forthright with him than you were with me," he bites over his shoulder. "Or you'll deal with more than a cracked rib."

-- Kye --

Answering that remark with a grunt, Kye isn't standing straight, because his rib is cracked. Maybe some internal organs impacted, as well, given the power through which he got shoved into the smooth stone of a former grotto. He feels the taste of blood in his mouth, but he doesn't linger too long in it. He simply awaits for the Sith Lord. Half a dozen people wanting any excuse to shoot at him.

Fitting end for an ambitious Corellian, one might think. The Sith troopers are given a bit of a sidelong look, even as he awaits for his ultimate fate. He represses the wince that comes from shifting from a foot to another, lifts his chin.

"Fairly sure I'll be dealing with more than a rib anyway."

-- Ferren --

The doors to the hangar part in a staggered X, one leg and then the other as overlapping blast shields recede upwards to clear the way. A tall man in black strides through, followed by no retinue or accompaniment. His face looks drawn and weary, a tinge of grey beneath its tan, but its lines are cut with a chisel.

Dark eyes settle immediately on Xavier and his prisoner, and he homes in on the pair, coming to a stop at a conversational distance. His voice is low, rich but gravelly, and despite the circumstances bears an undercurrent of amusement. "Ah, Harcourt. Back so soon. And you've brought a friend."

The smile he turns on Kye lives above a hawkish gaze. "You must be the mercenary, Kye Keraz. Welcome to my ship. You are my honored guest. Can't you see the way my men have turned out to greet you? The pleasure is all. Mine."

He gestures to the red-armored troopers, who lower their weapons. "There's no need for any of that. We're all friends here, aren't we, Keraz?"

-- Tamsin --

As was, in its way, de rigueur when a team, be they one or many was returning to the ship, the Councilor had been alerted, and made their way from the medical bay to the hangar of the ship. They arrived with no fanfare, nor did they make any move to approach Xavier or his charge. Certainly they did not make any attempt to join the troopers who had been arrayed around the pair. They only moved silently, and with no attempt to bring attention to themselves from the interior of the ship towards the main staging area of the hangar.

-- Imani --

Imani's presence isn't really required here, there is plenty of power and bodies to deal with it, but the situation is interesting enough for her to slink in and watch from nearby. She's propped against a wall, arms folded as she watches the others interact with Kye, though the guest gets more of her interest currently.

-- Shadra --

This was as much an exercise in education for Shadra as it was for the mercenary although the lessons imparted would have a significantly different result. Still weary from the events in the bowels of Corellia, the woman wearing the hooded garbs gifted to her upon her arrival, slinks in as softly as she can manage to occupy a space equidistant the others. She looms in the background, a reflection of her position amongst her peers or perhaps a desire to ruminate in relative peace by virtue of maintaining some buffer of proximity.

Whatever the case may be, Shadra settles in to a kneeling pose. Her rump settles on her booted heels. Balled fists resting just above of her knees. She looks up then and studies the retinue, the unfamiliar Xavier, and his prisoner. The woman's expression is studious and largely passive. There is no preconceived judgment to be found on her face.

-- Xavier --

Xavier offers a slight nod of deferance towards Ferren as the two men come to meet. No hands outstretched in greeting. No friendly touch of the shoulder. But there is a measure of respect there in the single corner of Xavier's lip curling up. Creasing the wrinkles at the corner of his eye. "Indeed. Our mutual friend was quite willing to share his knowledge with us. Until he wasn't."

Which would explain the dried streak of blood on Kye's face and the guarded way he may be moving. Internal injuries mostly and likely a nasty bruise on the back. "Though I believe he has had time to think over his options. Come to realize the error of his ways." Xavier takes a single step to the side and turns so that now the mercenary is facing Ferren on his own with Xavier just to the sidelines.

Though close enough that he leans in to say something quietly to Ferren directly. With that done, Xavier tucks his hands behind his back and observes.

-- Kye --

"The invitation to the party was a little rough around the edges." Kye replies to the tall man in black, not quite cowed yet, though there is some visible relaxation when the six blaster wielding individuals lower from their aim on him. Granted, now there are two -- scratch that, three -- possible lightsaber wielders around him. "You know my name then, my Lord."

Perhaps he's not surprised, given the givens. That knowledge does not sit well with him, not yet, anyway. But definitely he's got a bit of a gallows humor going on -- turned at his own expense.

Instead of adding another quip, he'll let the uncomfortable silence linger, heavy, on his silence, letting the other man speak, now. It's likely he'll be the one being forced to talk very soon. So he might as well enjoy what moments of silence he'll have.

He looks at Xavier, then. "...I suppose there are some things to be said depending on the options given."

-- Ferren --

"We have comms and records, Keraz," Darth Ferren replies with a wry look after answering Xavier's whispered missive with a short nod, dark features playing with coyness. "Surely you must have known that we would not pay out credits to just anyone without any checking up on their activities. There is no surer string than the one drawn by a credit chit. Every one that leaves our accounts bears a tiny thread that runs back to me. I can pull on any of them if I wish."

He begins out on a pacing circle that takes him around to a point just behind the mercenary, where the other man would need to look over his shoulder or turn to track his movements, boots ringing on the polished flight deck. When he speaks again, his voice has lost its warmth and humor, ringing out sharp and cold. "You know why you are here. Your list of options are rather short indeed. Convince me why I shouldn't kill you right here, and why I should not send Harcourt out to find your young friend once your corpse is pushed from the airlock. The choice is yours, but believe me when I say that you will not leave this ship alive until I get what I want. It is up to you how my satisfaction is derived."

-- Tamsin --

The Councilor kept...their own counsel. As words were exchanged, and the situation was laid out, there was not even the nod of that helmed visage. Only, perhaps, a shift in the intensity of that blank faceless mask, if such a thing was possible. The smallest shifts of movement allowed them to track from Xavier, to Kye Kyraz, and onward to the figure of Darth Ferren making his way across the distance to the prisoner, gloved hands idle and hidden beneath the sleeves of their robes. Not by any other name. Shackled or not, held at gunpoint or not, he was so.

-- Imani --

Imani is in her armor without the helmet on, which means her generally pleasant expression is visible as her focus bounces back and forth between the menacing men, and the menaced. "I don't think anything else really needs to be said based on who you're talking to here, but in case it does, you really ought to just give them whatever it is you're being asked for," she tells Kye. "Your ability to negotiate yourself out of this seems pretty unlikely."

-- Shadra --

Without context it is difficult for Shadra to find the prisoner particularly interesting. As faceless as any other brigand or troublemaker, she instead focuses on the somewhat known quantity of Ferren and her peers. His heavy steps, the presence he projects, and the subject of his ire are exposed to scrutiny. A myriad of questions flit through her mind and her head adopts a subtle tilt to the right as if the weight of them is capable of enhancing gravity. That is until the flippant Imani offers her two credits to the mercenary. Brows lofting, her attention lingers on the other woman's caramel-hued features.

-- Xavier --

Flick.

A brief flash of light from behind Xavier's hand illuminates his face in a warm, flickering light. A snap of metal snuffs it out and a puff of smoke trails around the man's head. As casual as you please. A single silhouette of black among others of black that have gathered in this room. Save for the dot of red he draws toxic breath from.

"The invite was rather cordial," he corrects, holding the tabac stick between the index and middle fingers. "Far more cordial than I tend to be when I am working, Keraz. Had you just answered my questions instead of opting to push back."

Brown eyes glance to Ferren at the mention of the 'young friend' and a grin now pulls at both corners until teeth show. "Hardly difficult to track her down once we have access to your ship logs. She would not ever see me coming." A boast? A promise.

The others in attendance get a slight nod of recognition but otherwise he doesn't aim to break up the interogation. "Think very, very hard."

-- Kye --

The man who walks so that Kye can't see him, but can hear clearly, does unnerve the Corellian. He doesn't turn to regard the man, considering things in silence. "Because I've already given you the most important name of all." He goes on to say. "The financier of the entire endeavor. Anything else is just window dressing; might look good to have it, but it won't do anything for you. Further, I have my doubts that truly was the most important piece of your board. You would have given her strict orders not to leave that compound if that was so. Good bait, my Lord."

Looking to Imani, he just nods. He's aware his room for negotiation is slim, but there's enough to wiggle around at least.

"There was a bounty hunter as well, not human. Canine-looking. Mechanical leg. He goes by..." He stops, closing his eyes briefly. "Chon? We're acquainted. Anyone else, I don't really know. I told you about the two Mandalorians. And the woman with the very nice gun."

-- Ferren --

Ferren exchanges a glance with Xavier from behind Kye's head, then returns his attention to the mercenary. "You would do well to think harder about the conversation you've had with Harcourt already, Keraz," he remarks dryly, impatience beginning to color his speech. "Perhaps the push addled your sensitive cerebellum. You've named a station only, and quite a large one."

His eyes skim towards Imani and then Shadra, before stabbing back to Kye. "Her /importance/ has no bearing on your sins. If I learned you played some part in harming the lowest deckhand in my fleet you would find yourself in the same position," he spits, completing his circle behind the other man and looking down at his face with disdain. "You are not here because she was an admiral. You are here because she was /mine/."

The dark lord's eyes shoot back to Xavier. "Where is his ship now? The young woman, I want her found if he has nothing more to offer."

-- Tamsin --

The Councilor, still standing in the wings, shifted, weight adjusting from left to right, as information was relayed. perhaps, some indication that a piece of information had been passed on that was of use. Which piece, and to what use it might be put again, was given neither voice nor indication, as they Councilor's body soon settled back into stillness. Only the slight shift of that helm in Xavier's direction gave any expression of their inner dialogue.

-- Imani --

Imani just shakes her head at the response, but doesn't argue. It doesn't do to argue here. Instead she settles back against the wall again and just watches as the scene plays out in front of her.

-- Shadra --

The kneeling woman reflexively wrinkles her nose and snorts as Xavier kindles this moment's preferred vice. The offense is as short-lived as the barely audible hiss from her flared nostrils. In the wake of Ferren's declaration, Shadra finds herself bewildered by the commitment it implied. The sclera of her blue-hued eyes flashes briefly. She looks away. Her gaze finds solid refuge in the polished sterility of the hangar deck. Both of her hands stretch in place to flatten over the cap of her knees before curling inward. The woman's nails leave a subtle discoloration on the fabric of her fitted slacks.

-- Xavier --

Xavier clicks his tongue to Kye's resistance. A part of him can respect that, really. He is known for being a difficult person to work with, as well. But Xavier had learned a long time ago when to hedge ones bets. And that there are few lives in existence worth the weight of his own. So for his part, he takes another breath through his cigarette and blows it off to the side with a slight twist of his head. "We left it on Tatooine. I can have it impounded within a half hour. Then it will be a matter of slicing into his records. Failing that, he frequents Nar Shaddaa. As all of such ilk are wont to do. I have contacts there and her description. I wil find her. In fact, I am sure my compatriots wouldn't mind joining in on the hunt."

He gestures to the others present; a ribbon trail of smoke being left behind as he does so. "There will be no corner of the galaxy to hide." He steps forward, eyes narrow. "There is no honour in dying a fool. Make yourself useful to us. We need more than vague answers and snark. If you have more names, spit it out. Otherwise best you be coming up with ideas on how to rectify your mistakes. It is the only way you can guarantee /she/ lives after today. Your own punishment is not on the table."

-- Kye --

"I gave you a significant clue, not just a station's name. Zhu Yan. He owns a store in said station."

When the word sins is spoken, the Corellian furrows his brow. Some response is there, some quickly, ready-made response, especially when the admiral was claimed to be Ferren's. But he doesn't voice it. And it goes away quickly.

"Now you have the financier, and one of the two people I knew in the endeavor. But just as I did that, I might as well be killed. No doubt you will go after them, and if they escape you, they will probably pinpoint to the weak point in the entire equation. If it's not me, it will likely be Mr. Kast, who was quite clueless about the job. He just wanted a job. Now you have all the names I know that should matter."

"As for how I can be of use, well... how can most traders be of use?" He asks of Xavier. "They throw money at things. And sometimes money destabilizes the balance of certain institutions. Make a millionaire overnight, he will either die or he will make enemies and they will die. Do the same to a corporation and plant a person you trust in it, and you can mold it to however you desire. That's the usefulness I have. It seems as though your enemies have enough money to push to finance assassinations on your personnel. Do the same, but to their institutions. Which house do you think falls first? The one where people are killed, or the one where pillars of society are destroyed?"

-- Ferren --

"Keraz." Ferren says the name almost sympathetically, though it's dripping in irony. "You have already proven you can no more hold my trust than a thimble the ocean. The only usefulness you have left is spilling your guts on this floor," he adds, raising a brow, "and I have yet to decide whether to make that literal."

He is silent for a moment, and then with a downward glance, he reaches behind his belt to loosen the silver hilt affixed there, bringing the weapon out in front of him but leaving it unlit. "You have given me details, pried piece by inadequate piece, but it does not change what you took from me on Thyferra. My arm. I will allow you the option of which of yours to lose. Choose quickly, or I will take them both."

-- Tamsin --

There was something of the familiar, to those who might know the Councilor by their actions, if not their words, of only a few days ago, in the question posed to Keraz by the Darth. That offer to choose which part of themselves to lose. Some reflection of the teacher, now walking, weapon in hand, in the student, still, at least visibly, unarmed. There was even a return of focus front and center, to see what the erstwhile mercenary and trader would choose.

-- Shadra --

An eye for an eye. Shadra's ears perk and her gaze rises to follow their interest in the delivered ultimatum. Her right hand lifts off of her lap to slip in to her cone of vision. The limb is immaculate by human standards: manicured nails, unmarred skin where revealed by the fact that she has not donned gloves. She turns it slowly as if examining an antique that had just been unearthed from some archaeological dig. Drawing in a deep, bracing breath, the air leaves her lungs far more rapidly than it entered. Her hand is returned to her lap where it layers with the other; perhaps seeking to find the comfort to steel herself for the violence to come.

-- Xavier --

"They will not escape us."

Every bit of information -- new and old -- is silently filed away into Xavier's mind. There's nothing more to be said here. In that finalization, only one more exchange is offered to Kye. Voice low but not quiet, he finds the younger man's eyes with his own intense gaze. And when he speaks it is with a hiss centuries old. "To lose is to learn. Adversity knows no friend or foe."

Whether sage advice or a bitter curse, Xavier turns and walks fully away from the center of the room leaving Kye and Ferren to dominate the space wholly. Joining the others at the sidelines, he twists back to observe in stoic silence. Passing only a moment's curious glance to the unfamiliar Shadra.

-- Kye --

Spending a moment to regard Ferren, Kye shakes his head. He is about to say something else but instead he extends an arm. His left arm. It remains to be seen which arm he will effectively lose to the Sith Lord, but an arm beats his neck. At the very least, he managed to purchase that.

Dearly, at the very least. Painstakingly, he steadies himself to offer that arm, and looks at the leader of the Empire squarely in the eyes, after Xavier's words. He can't offer a reply to those. Instead, he can hope that the loss of a limb will not cause him to bleed out, but that's less likely to take place, for now.

-- Ferren --

When the mercenary finally decides, there is a flash of baleful red light that casts the scene in its hue, cutting the space around Kye and Ferren out of the hangar and into a nightmare. The hiss and hum of the blade is brief, as the weapon moves smoothly up through the joint offered and then vanishes. The acrid scent of burnt ozone and roasted meat fill the air and linger much longer than the violence itself.

With a look of distaste at the severed limb that has fallen to the floor, reflected in the glossy black surface, the dark lord steps back. "A pound of flesh," he announces, sliding his lightsaber back into place behind his hip. "Give or take." With his grisly task finished, he gives Kye one more level look. "Let this serve as a lesson. I will have mercy on whom I have mercy, but my succor has limits. There is no debt that goes unpaid. There will be no second lesson."

"Put him in detainment while you check his story," Ferren says to his councilors. "Then cut him loose. And send this with him," he adds, nudging the disembodied arm with the toe of his boot.

He turns to go, striding back the way he came; a thought pauses his purposeful walk, and he turns with a dour expression. "Do not treat the wound." Then he proceeds forth back into the bowels of the ship once more.

-- Tamsin --

The payment of the debt incurred by the mercenary trader, or perhaps traitor, was watched with a placid serenity by the Councilor. In body or in spirit, for those who could sense such things, there was no response to the violence, either shying away from it, or feeling some reflected pleasure in the pain it elicited. There was only that moment, standing witness to the Darth's judgement, and his words as payment was levied. There was a incline of the mask, though, as his command was given. As much an acknowledgement of the Darth's words, as a mark of respect for the man as he made his way from the hangar floor.

-- Imani --

If there was ever any question of whether or not something is wrong with Imani, her lack of concern as she watches a limb be lopped off should definitely hint heavily at it. "I did try to warn you," she says as she watches Kye in the midst of his punishment. There's a slight shake of her head, then she too turns to leave, letting others deal with moving the prisoner to wherever he needs to go next.

-- Shadra --

Shadra's pupils and fists constrict as the infernal aurora of Darth Ferren's lightsaber sears the tableau of Kye's dismemberment in to her retina. Not of sufficient strength nor void of compassion enough to weather its violence unperturbed, she flinches. The after-image lingers: both in silhouette in her vision as well as a macabre memory. She unfurls in posture at the same time as her hands. Her gaze settles on both the unfamiliar mercenary and the dismembered limb in turn. The passage of Darth Ferren does not break her vigil.

-- Xavier --

Standing there partaking of his vice, Xavier watches without regret as the sacrificial limb is lopped off and falls to the floor with a sickening thud. The fingers of his left hand twitch with minute little tremors, however. A memory passing through the minefield that is his mind. These little ticks are quelled by a long, long drag and an extended exhale. There is still much more work ahead.

Xavier gives a silent nod to the troopers that stand in wait whom respond immediately by crowding around the injured Kye and insists in no uncertain terms that he go with them. As they form up, he nudges away from the wall seemingly intent on going along. He pauses only for a moment, raising a thick brow towards Shadra's flinch. But only just. A ghost of a smirk, a dip of his ebony-haired head, and he is moving on. Brushing past the stormtroopers who are corralling Kye, he waves a hand over his shoulder. "Lessons learned, my friend. You won't soon forget."

-- Kye --

Nobody is quite prepared for a dismemberment. Not when they are in the receiving end of it. It doesn't matter how much you think you can take the pain, it will never be something normal or desirable. As such, when the blade comes searing hot and severs the connection of his limb to the rest of his body, it hurts. It hurts a lot. The wound is cauterized by the extreme heat of the energy blade, of course, but it doesn't make it any less painful. Kye cries out, then stifles it quickly, brow furrowing as Darth Ferren mentions forgiveness and price. It seems he's learning the price of doing such things.

The arm on the floor is given a look. A long look. With its loss comes something else as well. Perhaps not quite understanding or compassion but it is a lesson learned in flesh. And as a result, it will be paid a lot of heed to.