Altair Kallig (
kallig) wrote in
boxofmisfits2020-08-30 09:00 am
Entry tags:
So a Sith and a Chiss Walk Into the Same Warlord's Ship--
The Force was a capricious thing, if not straight up malicious.
War had broken out once more between the Sith Empire and the Galactic Republic and Altair had been on the front lines, working to ensure safety and stability for his people. Onderon, Mek-Sha, their assault on Corellia and the Meridian Complex, and at the end of it all, he had chosen to make his Alliance an official member of the Empire, and reclaimed his Sith title.
He had welcomed the Imperial presence on Odessen, had flown the flag of his nation where the flag of the Eternal Alliance once hung, and he had been happy. He had been home.
Then that artifact- he had been working on a tip Lana had gotten through her contacts, that there was an artifact that would serve Altair and the Sith Empire well.
It hadn't been a trap. Only the Force working in mysterious ways.
For a while after he'd been dragged to the future, he'd seethed. He'd lost his home, his title once more, and worse than that, he would never get to see his loved ones ever again. Not the people of the Alliance, nor Lana, nor Theron. He had been truly alone, for the first time in a long time.
But he couldn't stay angry forever, couldn't refuse to function.
He had made himself a new life on a new planet. He worked making his art, and he made friends. Occasionally, he traveled, too.
A year into his new life, tragedy struck, and his anger found a purpose once more.
That anger was why he was on this ship- the Warlord and his people had taken his friends from him. Altair would now take everything from them.
Blood splattered across the floor as he sliced a man in half, another one falling to the floor and convulsing as he threw a bolt of lightning. He finished him off my snapping his neck, and then lunged forward to dispatch a third.
He turned his head to look back at the dimly lit hallway, the blood of his enemies painting the scenery red.
No time to hesitate.
Altair continued moving, masking his presence, making himself damn near invisible. Coming upon more panicked guards trying to get a handle on the situation while also moving to get their leader out, he stopped in the shadows and listened. Escape pods. So that was their plans.
He turned and slipped through the darkness, popping out here and there to dispatch of anyone who seemed like they could be trouble, and by the time he made it to the escape pods, the Warlord was rushing his people to get ready- voice catching in his throat as the Sith stepped out.
With a few simple flicks of the wrist, Altair deflected blaster bolts back at the ones who thought that shooting at him would be a good idea, and two men who tried to flee were yanked back and slammed into the metal floors hard enough to break their heads open, a bit of blood splattering over the Sith's dark boots.
His head turned to the Warlord himself- the man who had ordered the attack on the place Altair had called home. Killed his neighbors, his friends, people who were innocent and deserved better.
"And then," He spoke, reaching out with the Force and warping the metal around the escape pods so they couldn't launch, "There was only us..."
War had broken out once more between the Sith Empire and the Galactic Republic and Altair had been on the front lines, working to ensure safety and stability for his people. Onderon, Mek-Sha, their assault on Corellia and the Meridian Complex, and at the end of it all, he had chosen to make his Alliance an official member of the Empire, and reclaimed his Sith title.
He had welcomed the Imperial presence on Odessen, had flown the flag of his nation where the flag of the Eternal Alliance once hung, and he had been happy. He had been home.
Then that artifact- he had been working on a tip Lana had gotten through her contacts, that there was an artifact that would serve Altair and the Sith Empire well.
It hadn't been a trap. Only the Force working in mysterious ways.
For a while after he'd been dragged to the future, he'd seethed. He'd lost his home, his title once more, and worse than that, he would never get to see his loved ones ever again. Not the people of the Alliance, nor Lana, nor Theron. He had been truly alone, for the first time in a long time.
But he couldn't stay angry forever, couldn't refuse to function.
He had made himself a new life on a new planet. He worked making his art, and he made friends. Occasionally, he traveled, too.
A year into his new life, tragedy struck, and his anger found a purpose once more.
That anger was why he was on this ship- the Warlord and his people had taken his friends from him. Altair would now take everything from them.
Blood splattered across the floor as he sliced a man in half, another one falling to the floor and convulsing as he threw a bolt of lightning. He finished him off my snapping his neck, and then lunged forward to dispatch a third.
He turned his head to look back at the dimly lit hallway, the blood of his enemies painting the scenery red.
No time to hesitate.
Altair continued moving, masking his presence, making himself damn near invisible. Coming upon more panicked guards trying to get a handle on the situation while also moving to get their leader out, he stopped in the shadows and listened. Escape pods. So that was their plans.
He turned and slipped through the darkness, popping out here and there to dispatch of anyone who seemed like they could be trouble, and by the time he made it to the escape pods, the Warlord was rushing his people to get ready- voice catching in his throat as the Sith stepped out.
With a few simple flicks of the wrist, Altair deflected blaster bolts back at the ones who thought that shooting at him would be a good idea, and two men who tried to flee were yanked back and slammed into the metal floors hard enough to break their heads open, a bit of blood splattering over the Sith's dark boots.
His head turned to the Warlord himself- the man who had ordered the attack on the place Altair had called home. Killed his neighbors, his friends, people who were innocent and deserved better.
"And then," He spoke, reaching out with the Force and warping the metal around the escape pods so they couldn't launch, "There was only us..."

no subject
It made sense, of course. Of course it did. More sense than him arriving in this time from the past. It was, however, entirely incorrect.
Perhaps it was jarring to see him burst out into laughter, but he really couldn't help it.
"Ah, me, a clone. Had that been the case I would've liked to have a chat with my maker about why they couldn't add a few inches to my height while they were at it."
If only, if only.
"No. I am not a clone. I am Darth Nox. And I can prove it, too."
no subject
Sometimes a clone was well aware of what they were and why they'd been made, such as the clone soldiers from the Clone Wars. Other times, a clone could be led to believe that they were indeed the original.
"Given how powerful Nox seemed to be, it is unsurprising that someone would wish to resurrect him via cloning."
no subject
"I wasn't going to tell you my life story. I was going to ask him to tell you."
He held his hand out to the empty space next to him- though it didn't stay empty for long, as the ghostly form of Horak-Mul manifested, the Pureblooded Sith looking less than amused at being called out for something like this.
"Thrawn, Horak-Mul. Horak-Mul, Thrawn- though you knew that already, of course."
"Yes," The ghostly Sith said, though said nothing else, even though the look in his eyes said it all. It was obvious enough that Altair himself was holding the spirit back from going on a rant.
"I imagine that records of my ghost binding ritual must have survived, too, given that it was an ability relatively unique to me."
no subject
After all, Thrawn figured it was quite unlikely that one could clone a ghost, or that the ghosts would carry over into the cloning process.
"Very well. Master Horak-Mul, can you confirm Lord Nox's assertion that he is the original from the Old Republic, and not a clone as I have theorized?"
no subject
"I can confirm that, yes. He is as he always was- Dark Lord of the Sith, speaker for the dead, Forcewalker, heir of Kallig and Tulak Hord, bane of Darth Revan, Alliance Commander, and ultimate destroyer of Tenebrae, Vitiate, Valkorion- whatever you wish to call the Emperor who once called himself immortal. I have walked with him for years now- and intend to stay for years more to see this new time we've both found ourselves in."
Altair couldn't help but roll his eyes, though none of those titles were inaccurate- they were titles he'd earned in his own time, before ending up in the future.
"Are you convinced that I am not a clone, or does he need to go on?" Altair asked, looking back at Thrawn and arching an eyebrow.
no subject
"He does not."
He studied Altair, as if he were an interesting puzzle box that Thrawn was trying to solve after messing up one side. So Nox wasn't a clone after all. Then perhaps he'd been in stasis for thousands of years and had only recently woken up. Did the Sith or Republic of old have such technology?
"If you are indeed Darth Nox, then you are a living relic."
no subject
"I am indeed Darth Nox, and technically a living relic, yes. I don't appreciate being looked at like I'm some mystery in need of being figured out of, though."
Sometimes mysteries should be allowed to stay mysteries. But mostly he didn't want to be studied so intensely when he wasn't wearing his armor. He had no faith in his ability to conceal his emotions, after all.
"It's not like this changes anything. I am still of use to you, as you are still of use to me. Does either of us really need to know anything else?"
no subject
no subject
It was difficult to tell if he was just joking, or if he was speaking in all seriousness. And he wasn't interested in making that clear, either. Thrawn could draw his own conclusions about whether Altair truly wanted to know him better or not.
"And yes, that we must. I assume you need me to do something, then. What is it?"
no subject
Thrawn tapped a button on his console and brought up an image of a humanoid alien with colorful, iridescent skin, yellow compound eyes like those of an insect, and dark grey hair. "This is Nuso Esva, he is a warlord I have been battling for some time. We may have gotten a new lead on where he will strike next."
no subject
Of course, the same could be said about him. They'd worked together for some time now, and still they were more or less strangers. They didn't technically need to know each other, of course, their arrangement didn't rely on it, but the longer one worked with someone else, the more curious one got.
At least it had always been that way for Altair and all the people he knew.
He tilted his head at the image, though the fact that this alien was a warlord more than told him what he needed to know. It meant that this alien needed to die- for peace could not reign where chaos still ran rampant through the galaxy.
"I see. Whatever you need me to do, you need only ask. So long as your cause stays just, you know that I am your blade."
Altair was pretty sure that Thrawn was the only one who knew that, really. Anyone else still seemed to think of him as some loose cannon who could go off the rails at any moment.
no subject
"We have the advantage against him in that he doesn't know about you. I would prefer to keep that advantage for as long as possible. For now, we may just pass you off as a simple advisor. He will also be too focused on me to pay attention to you."
no subject
Being a little older and a lot wiser had made him less inclined to rush in of course, but still.
"Shall I hide my lightsaber and pretend to be blind while I'm at it?"
That was mostly a joke, though of course, it would result in them getting even more of an upper hand. It would out him as an alien- he couldn't pass himself off as some blind advisor while wearing a full suit of armor. But a blindfold or a veil could hide that he too was Chiss, and he could pass himself off as a Pantoran or other blue alien. He knew for a fact that it was a deception he could pull off, as he had done in the past.
"Honestly, you don't need to worry about me going off the rails. I know a thing or two about intelligent adversaries and the need to plan so that they don't gain an advantage."
He had faced Zash. Thanaton. Malgus. Revan. Arcann, and then Vaylin. And worse than all of them, he'd faced a monster in his fight against Vitiate. If Thrawn said this Nuso Esva was dangerous and to proceed with caution, then Altair believed him, and would act accordingly. He had faced too many dangerous people in his life to underestimate an adversary he had been warned about.
no subject
"Now then, I will leave you to your artwork and meditations," Picking up his datapad, Thrawn nodded at Altair and made to leave his quarters. "This has been a most enlightening discussion."
He'd been so sure Altair was a clone. But he could not have predicted the truth in a million years.
no subject
The Force did, after all, flow through all living things, and could serve and favor even those who were not Force-sensitive. And Altair truly did want the Force to favor Thrawn and his cause, very much considering it a just one. But Thrawn knew that already, of course.
Or they wouldn't be working together at all.
Before the door closed, however- "In the near future, I may need to ask a favor of you. I will let you know what that is when the time comes."