The New Guard

Posted on Tue Mar 19th, 2019 @ 10:21pm by Kelderesh jai Nektus & Axion & Mange & Tolmin Voq

3,012 words; about a 15 minute read

Chapter: Chapter V: Unbound
Location: Cult of Axion Sanctuary, Unknown System
Timeline: One day before Red Raptor arrives at Korriban; months after Mentis' betrayal

OLD ("No Glory Among Slaves")

The deed complete and reality taking hold, Mentis once again felt the pain in his flesh and realised that the echoes of what he had just done would be felt by every Force-sensitive being in the sanctuary and that, at any moment, Axion could walk through that door and see what he had done, if he did not already know. For a moment, Mentis thought to go to Nala, knowing she shared his disdain for Trey. But despite their unspoken friendship within the cult, he knew she would never endanger her position to shelter him. She may even take the opportunity to kill him to secure her place at the top of Axion's pyramid of false glory.

There was only one option: he had to flee. There were some speeder bikes in the garage, which he could use to reach the closest settlement and, from there, he might just acquire a ship. He could make it to the garage; it was just across the courtyard below the window. As he heard footsteps and voices approaching, he leapt to the ledge and, after the briefest of calculations, dropped down into the darkness outside.

He hoped this time he would not fall straight into the arms of another slave master.

NEW

One of the many chattels ensnared by the charms and powers of the Dark Master stumbled unsteadily across the cold stone surface of the floor, his bare feet chapped and clad in the grime of the Cult of Axion's soon-to-be abandoned stronghold. His joints creaked and dry skin split as he forced himself to tackle yet another oversized piece of metal furniture, his sinew genuinely tearing under the sheer pressure of the exertion.

His face, pulled back in an unnatural smile of ecstatic satisfaction, showed no sign of recognising the terrible labours he was putting his body through, so engulfed was his mind in the terrible snare of either Master Axion or the favoured apprentice, Nala Sao. He, like the half-dozen others working hard in mindless glee to move the cult's various earthly possessions for their latest relocation, lived only to see his beloved lord's splendour once more, so enraptured and addicted was his simple and broken mind.

The tattered robes that made up his attire did nothing to betray his former existence as a well-respected accountant, a role he had even admirably performed for the Dark Master in his previous life, until such time as Axion had determined the man knew too much, or had perhaps grown bored of the man's prattling.

Across the galaxy, the cult managed several such strongholds, apartments, lairs and even businesses, either directly or through proxies. Invariably, they only lasted as long as Axion's interest did, or other factors interfered with their security or sustainability. This location, ornate and macabre in its presentation, had outlasted one or the other - not that the slave ever maintained such concepts these days.

From the balcony adjacent to the room the broken man toiled in, stood a tall sorcerer garbed head to toe in a dark orange robe that flowed like lava down his form, stopping only at the extremities of his limbs, which were wrapped tightly in beige cloth. Through a bone-like white mask, glinted two yellow reptilian eyes that gazed out at the desolate landscape of the remote planet as the last of its sun’s light was buried below the horizon. He was Kelderesh jai Nektus, Kaleesh outcast and loyal disciple to Axion in his rise to greater power.

A faint breeze swept across the plains and ruffled the fabric of his robe and the Kaleesh man closed his eyes and focused on the essence of the world. He sensed the scuffling of the willing thrall behind him, who seemed not long for this world if his current physical ailments were left untreated and he continued willingly exerting himself as he did now.

It was repulsive to Kelderesh that the man would sacrifice his health and power out of adoration for Axion. Even if he too was loyal to the powerful human, he had no intention of making himself lesser for any other being. For there was no reward in death, only in life: he had learned that lesson long ago.

He began to feel an anger as he stood there, taking in the essence of the man. He detested spending any time around these pathetic servants but their presence was apparently required as they moved to their new location. So it was that he found himself unable to focus on anything but the creaking workings of this inferior mind as he went about his duties. The robed reptilian clenched the balcony railing with great strength and directed his anger outwards towards that vast and empty sky.

He opened his eyes again and looked up, seeing his exertion materialising as filthy black clouds reaching into the upper atmosphere. He could feel the power growing within the clouds. It was a power that so wanted to strike down the pathetic being at the root of his anger. But the storm did not grow any further as another being entered the chamber behind him: a being much harder to read for the Kaleesh.

There were subtle sounds of an object cutting through the air, and the slap of it making contact with the flesh of an open palm.

"Hey Kel," came an artificial male voice from a synthesizer implant. The instant he got the Kaleesh's attention, he added, "Catch!"

A small bronze coloured metal ball was hurled at Kelderesh beeping as it went his direction. It didn't take a demolitions expert to know that it was a thermal detonator.

With a sharp flutter, Cultist Nektus’ robed cranium swung around and, coupled with a sharp narrowing of his eyes, the detonator was brought to a halt through his telekinesis. As it ground to a halt in the air, the beeping stopped and a sharp click indicated the detonation mechanism had triggered, although no blast followed.

"Bang," said the cyborg Devaronian dark acolyte of the Cult. He was pointing his index finger at Kel, and his thumb was up like the hammer of an old slug-throwing pistol. "You're dead."

"Maybe the next one I throw will be real and when you become a god, you'll owe me a drink in...wherever it is your gods hang out," Tolmin said with hands casually on his hips and a wicked devil's sneer seen only in his eyes as his mouth was covered by a black scarf. "Or better yet, you could set me up with one of your goddesses, heh heh heh."

Kelderesh was frustrated at his fellow cultist’s misinterpretation of his beliefs. It seemed that most life forms in the galaxy held the same misguided views as his own people: that some greatness would be achieved after death after some weighing up of their corporeal deeds. As if death was something to be celebrated: death, to Kelderesh, was the ultimate failure as it meant giving in to some weakness, either in nature or one’s own body.

To be mocked with the idea that Tolmin could murder him here and now was akin to the kind of disgusting deathly rituals his people once practiced. That is, until he killed them all and ascended that bit closer to worldly immortality.

“When I am a god,” Kelderesh’s deep accented voice began, “I will be very much alive and, I can assure you, you will be very much aware of it.”

He now had his eyes fixed firmly on the man and his many cybernetic implantations. If there was anything admirable about Tomin to the Kaleesh it was his own refusal to die: replacing the parts of his body that had failed him. While not a preferable option to Kelderesh, it was infinitely better than dying. He hoped that, if his own body failed him in such a way, he would have amassed enough power to sustain himself through the Force, rather than relying on technology, which itself was susceptible to failure.

“Take back your toys,” the Kaleesh growled, shooting the blank detonator back through the air.

Tolmin deftly caught his dud bomb with a dung-eating grin and whispered, "Bang." Then he added in a normal tone. "I'm looking forward to it. Oh, in case you were wondering, the little strings I tugged dropped some fruit with a little birdie that may have said a few things about our old friend, Mentis. You interested, or should I go play with my 'toys' elsewhere?"

Stepping back into the room, the dim lights indoors highlighted the grooves on Kelderesh’s bony mask and the tusks in his lower jaw that bobbed slightly as he spoke, “And were does Trey’s killer find himself now that he has fled from the master’s fury? I sense his fear will have driven him far, but it will not save him.”

"Well...let's just say our boy hasn't exactly kept his nose clean," Tolmin replied whilst palming his grenade, thoughtless tossing it up and down, and from one hand to the other. "An old pal o' mine heard about a dust-up involving 'Mint' and that Rex fella who was tapping some shoulders about the Red Raptor."

Mint was Tolmin's codename for Mentis. He used it because no one liked it. It wasn't his fault no one could appreciate lampooning the Ratattaki backstabber. Tolmin enjoyed things that agitated people. It contributed to their anger, and that negative emotion directed at him was something he could use to his advantage in a fight, including if it ever came to blows between he and Kel; he never truly trusted anyone except himself. The last time he blindly trusted a man, it nearly got his head blown off. Instead, the betrayal took such a toll on his health that he had to be fitted with cybernetics just to live. On the upside, having intravenous kolto injection systems and cortosis skin grafts was a nice tradeoff. The worse was the lower half of his face, but at least the black scarf covering up that nasty little part of his past added to his trademark appearance.

"And you wouldn't believe what they dug up," he added, lowering his voice with a wicked lil' grin as if discussing a wicked little conspiracy. "Raptor's gone off to go play on Korriban of all places. Now, what do you make of that, hey?"

“Urgh, Korriban,” Kelderesh grimace was apparent even on his largely concealed face, “The Sith and their great monuments to the dead. Perhaps Mentis hopes to go and throw himself in with the necromancers and spiritualists, thinking that will save him from his own demise. Fool!”

The Kaleesh was becoming angry again, but it was a focussed anger that he could control. One that he knew could be satisfied by finding and destroying the traitor Mentis and those who allied with him.

Something else Tolmin had said piqued his curiosity, “What was that about the Red Raptor? Does the Master know they are involved?”

"Your master knows all, my children." The voice had materialised alongside the two cultists, its tattooed owner appearing to silently apparate without cue from within the shadows. With a thin and easy smile, his face lined with a humour that did not truly exist but for his wry games, Master Axion swept over the cobbled floor towards his two acolytes, manicured hands clasped firmly about one another within the finery of his dark, drooping sleeves.

"My young friends, it warms my heart to know how firmly I can rely upon your solemn and undying loyalty," he went on, offering each a calculated smile, his soft and cultured voice both considered and whimsical at once. "For too long, the treachery of that cretin has cut into my very soul. As you know, I care for each and every one of you deeply - you all are as much a part of me as my own divine link to the Force - and you have all come to me from different backgrounds. All are welcome within the Family. But Mentis... well, Mentis did not care for your brotherhood - for your love."

Axion began to slowly pace around the outside of the two, his face wearing an expression of pained melancholy. "He came to us but a slave, abused and a mere shadow of what he could be. I clothed him, raised him, protected him, trained him... We gave him a family and a home, loved and cherished. Instead of being the dutiful son, he murdered your dear brother, Trey, in a fit of jealousy and in cold blood." The middle-aged Human shook his head in dismay, pausing and looking to the floor between Kelderesh and Tolmin. He raised his hands out from his sleeves, revealing the various tattoos and glinting jewellery that lined them as he placed them upon either cultist's shoulders. "It would be heartbreaking, but for the love of the rest of you."

Even as the reassuring glow of Axion's presence spread through both men, the audible cracking of the former accountant-gone-slave's neck behind them pierced through the warmth. "I know you will not disappoint me."

Feeling the servant’s life leaving his body, Kelderesh was once again impressed by his master’s insight into his followers; to know in an instant his own desire to exterminate that man. He bowed slightly, his tall form bent over in reverence to the leader of their cult, and uncurled a clawed hand towards his master, “My powers are pledged to you and your great cause, my master. I have not forgotten your kindness to us, your wayward children, as Mentis has.”

Rising again to his full-imposing height, but still somehow diminutive compared to the engulfing presence of their dark master, the Kaleesh suggested, “If you would permit me, Master, it would be my honour to go to Korriban and end the betrayer’s existence myself.”

"Your love and loyalty will not go unrewarded, Kelderesh," Axion replied, smiling as his bejewelled fingers rested approvingly on the cultist's war mask. "And you, Tolmin? Is your love as pure as your brother's, your hate as untempered and righteous as his?"

The Devaronian's lips spread wide to reveal a toothy, impish grin. "A wise old lady once told me that showing love is more honest than speaking it. If it's the Master's will, I'd love nothing more than to spread my undiluted hate on that Jedi station. Kel here can stab a few robed hipsters for me, and I can wire the place for a fireworks show in your honour. We'd have all of Korriban to play with, and Mentis would be a sitting duck."

"Your ferocity and obligation are a credit to your fine and noble character, young Tolmin," Axion said, now taking his hands away from the two cultists, "just as your penchant for chaos serves my cause sublimely." The Human stepped gracefully over the mangled form of the murdered accountant without so much as glancing at the smiling corpse he had created.

"Whilst I continue to make arrangements for us to move to the next sanctuary, you will go with Nala and three of your other brothers and sisters to the Sith graveworld, where you will slaughter the upstart children that have made mockery of us, and claim what is rightfully mine." Axion's voice took a sharper edge as he spoke, and his mesmerising night-blue eyes flashed with a deep amethyst malevolence. "Destroy any Jedi rabble that dare impede your glorious mission and leave no survivors to spread the tale of your victory. Should you fail, however..."

A slight tightening sensation could then be felt sliding up and around the two cultists' hearts, an icy-cold grip that caused pained alarm to shoot through them like electricity, the breath stolen from their lungs in an instant of Axion's fatherly fury. But, just as quickly, the invisible hand of the Dark Master released them.

Tolmin's villainous sneer had evaporated when Axion had "reminded" them who was in charge. In spite of most of what was in his chest cavity having been artificial and shielded with armor plating, the fiendish mastermind of the cult still managed to disrupt the kolto injection systems and halted the functioning of his cybernetic heart for three agonizing seconds before it rebooted to standard rhythm. He swallowed hard fearing permanent damage, and the potential heavy credit cost of getting replacement parts.

The small curve of a malevolent smile stretched the corner of Axion's mouth upwards, almost appearing as a sneer, and a dark shadow looked to gather around his form. "To aid you in your quest and to ensure these pitiful creatures achieve the end they so deserve, a prodigal brother has come back to us, returned from his pilgrimage within Wild Space." The stench of rotting flesh seemed to follow a breeze into the room, and Axion's sick smile spread, one hand now raised towards the nearby doorway.

Its owner obscured by the shadows, a low growl crawled its way across the stone walls. Although quiet, it was every bit as sickening as the scent that it followed. Slow thudding footsteps echoed along and into the chamber, the sound more like a bantha stamping its drenched feet into the sodden mud of a thick swamp.

When the beast finally revealed itself and stepped from the shadows, its bloodstained teeth bared back in an animalistic fury, its growl grew into a bloodcurdling roar. Pure-white matted fur bristled across its huge frame, and a garish cybernetic left fist opened and clenched manically, as if independent from the rest of the monstrous albino Wookie. Finally, the monster stopped short of the three Dark Jedi, his shoulders heaving with the creature's heavy pants, murderous red eyes shifting quickly from the Kaleesh to the Devaronian with terrible intent.

"My children," Axion said sickly-sweetly, his eyes not leaving either Tolmin or Kelderesh, "please welcome home your brother - Lord Mange."

END

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