The Rebel Faction

The Soro-suub yacht landed gracefully on the Coruscant docking platform. At the rear of the craft, the back folds of the ship broke apart to form the landing ramp. From the darkness in the ship emerged a lone figure. With a black hooded robe cowled over his head his facial features remained a mystery. Like the Reaper of Grim he sauntered down, appearing to glide more than walk. His arms were infront of his chest, hands in the opposite sleeve. His flowing robe dragged slightly behind him.

Reaching the bottom of the silver ramp he removed his hands and pulled back his hood. Had anyone been there watching him they may have been shocked at the sight. It would have been clear to most, had they known him or not, that his face had gone through severe changes. Where once had been the youthful identity of a young man, now was replaced with a tatooed head. Brown and blonde hair was now black as the space this man had flown from. Youth it seemed, had been robbed of this poor being.

Many describe the universe as a question by it's own right. Those people would not be wrong to use the same description on this Jedi student. In his seemingly endless search for answers he had become the question. An endless mystery as great as the Force perhaps no-one would ever truly know what had happened to Cor-Si Dejourn.

Laughter, smiles, blessed looks. They were all something to be scarcely found on his face these days. When they were, they were more a sign of indepth madness than any real emotion. Evil had manipulated a student to beliving it was right. It had turned a happy child into a lose cannon. Sure enough he showed emotion, but not the type that should be seen in someone so young. Someone who should be innocent.

Moving across the dirty grey platform, the padawan (a man by his own right), let his eyes dart across every surface, every building, every sentient being and traffic lane that wound it's way into his vision. Engrossing winds flicked his robes back and forth while artificial rain lapped at the litle exposed skin to be found. As his black robes billowed out behind him a passing speeder illuminated his body. In his months of searching his body had filled out slightly. Muscles had grown larger, strained lines had covered much of his hands.

From his brown belt hung a black and red handle, severeal buttons stood in a row. The handle ended in a a shape simillar to that of the Chiss Clawcraft. A weapon of pure majest, his lightsaber was one of only two items he cherished. The other a holo-photo of his once happy family. He had found it clutched in his dead sisters hand, so long ago on the planet Cejansij.

Cejansij, now there was an interesting topic. It had been seventeen months since Cor-Si had stood on it's lushious green lands. Strange how it felt like it had been the day before. Memories rushed into Cor-Si's thoughts. Memories of arriving there with an alien Jedi Master, of finding his home turned to shreds, of feeling anger in the Force for the first time. Most of all, memories of killing for the first time.

It had happened so quickly and finished so abruptly. An idiotic thief had attempted to rob Cor-Si of his prized photo. In a display of Force power Cor-Si had reached into the man and sent tremors of pain to each of his nerves. Fulfilling his need to take anger out on someone Cor-Si had pushed harder and deeper. It had been such a relief for the man when the padawan had stopped. A relief that had been so short lived. Cor-Si had shoved outwards with the Force, pushing the man so hard he had flown into a wall with a sickening crunch. Bones broken and life ebbing out of him to return to the nether worlds of the Force.

Cor-Si shook his head slightly. Memories were a waste of time, they served no purpose save to remind the rememberer that times had gone by. Dejourn was here for a reason. It was one still unknown to him but a reason none-the-less.

On Cato Nemodia he had heard whisperings of a dark woman. On Corellia he had listened in on a conversation about a dangerous lady. From Ando to Argai, Ithor to Muunilist, from the depths of Abregado-rae to the patent Nal Hutta this woman had been spoken of. From each conversation one name had arisen. Taja.

Famed for her knowledge, her views, her selling of illegal contriband and her near cultist activities she was someone he needed to meet. Who but a powerful Sith Master could have sent him the feelings he had been recieving? Who but a tainted darksider could have beconed for him the way she must have been? Who but a drug barren would have dared try to summon him?

This woman was a sign of answers. Answers were something that a cold and distant padawan like Cor-Si craved.

Answers were what he would get.

Heading into a large apartment building, Cor-Si continued on the path the Force had chosen for him. It was time to meet this Sith.

Dejourn's eyes followed Taja until she had disappeared from sight. Turning to the dresser he extended one scarred hand and summoned the black handled, flower designed hair brush into his open palm. From among the torrent of clothes Taja's voice sailed out to him. Scolding almost.

"You're far to like the other Force-users of the galaxy. You use the Force for every day chores. I imagine you can't survive without it. Do you not think I could have called to it myself had I wanted it that way? Now then apprentice, why don't we try again? Put it back where you found it and try actually using your body to get it this time."

Cor-Si almost snorted at the way this woman treated him like such a youngling. If he choose to do something than it was his choice to make. Still though, if he was going to get the information he needed he supposed he would have to play her little games. For now.

Floating the brush till it once again rested among the other items on the dressers surface he strode forwards and picked it up in his hand. Beside where it had laid were three other objects. Two hair combs of an exotic design, strange symbols coiling around the cold, winding hilt. In between the two was an elderly hand mirror. It's reflective glass bared one long, shriveled crack that spun downward. On it's silver frame was a beautiful carving of Kath hounds basking in the warm sunlight. This relic of sorts was an interesting find to say the least. This once revered family possession had belonged to Cor-Si's mother. How had it wound up in Taja Loraan's home?

"Tell me Jedi, are you incapable of completing such a small task? Perhaps I have chosen the wrong person, such a waste of all the time I have put into you," Taja's voice echoed from behind the man. Did she even know where this mirror had once resided? Dejourn turned to look her in the eyes. Instead he found himself looking her up and down. Taja stood there, the light from the closet shining out behind her, in a skimpy pair of golden knickers and bra. In her hands she held two items of clothing, "Which do you think? Red or black?"

She held up each of the flowing garments in turn. Cor-Si inclined his head slightly to the crimson colored accoutrement before turning back to once again survey the mirror.

(OOC) My weird computer's playing up and yet again posted the reply twice.

"What do you mean where are we going? I came here looking for answers not a day trip."

Taja blinked, quite clearly startled by the man's sudden outburst, but in the next second her expression of bemusement changed to that of mild annoyance as she felt Cor-Si's mind nudging weakly at hers, in a vain attempt to scan and read her surface thoughts. It was an incredibly brash and foolhardy effort on the former Padawan's part, and he had obviously neglected to consider the possible consequences of such an action -- it was a difficult thing to try and conceal a mental probe from a Sith Master whose chief specialty involved her psychic prowess. Taja, however, was feeling rather merciful; she had after all been the one to indirectly summon him from so far away, and it would be a shame to end his life so early on in their relationship. Besides, she rather liked the reckless streak in him; at least he would be good for providing her with some slight amusement, if nothing else.

She breathed in deeply, only half-listening to Cor-Si as he continued his little tirade about her home on Coruscant. In truth, the makeshift residence was probably only occupied for a week or two throughout each standard year, since Taja herself seldom frequented the planet -- her protégé, Vasuki, was in charge of all related business transactions -- but even so, the Sith spared no expenses when it came to the apartment's upkeep and maintenance (a rather glaringly evident fact). Although Taja could not be bothered to correct him, she was about to open her mouth to command him to finally shut up when one name in particular caught her attention and caused her thoughts to freeze, while her face grew pale and sullen.

Vjun.

Taja was familiar with knowledge of the planet's bleak atmosphere and lifeless, barren environment, of course she was -- Bast Castle had been her home for many years, as well as a less-than-pleasant haven to which she had retreated on many occasions both before and since. Despite the stale, acidic climate, terminally incapable of sustaining any sort of viable organism, the Sith felt inexplicably drawn to the place. Perhaps it was due to the strange affinity she shared with the ghosts that haunted Bast's every chamber and hall, souls which had been cruelly slaughtered many years ago and who were thus condemned to roam for all eternity within the walls of the same fortress where they were slain. Their cries maddened her, but amidst their tortured screams she found a morbid kind of serenity, a kind of paradoxical solace and understanding she had been denied elsewhere. Bast was her home, her psychosis, her dark and senseless sanctuary.

It was where she had last seen him.

Xireon …

Vjun had served as a training arena during Taja's lessons under the mentorship of the revered, near legendary Sith, and, following the pair's destructive rampage on Korriban, it had also been the site where Xireon Jiren announced her ascension to the rank of Master, before disappearing shortly afterwards. Towards the beginning of her apprenticeship, the two had forged an irrevocable bond that would prevent the young empath from ever being able to sense her Master's thoughts and emotions, and as such it had been impossible for her to track down his whereabouts when he vanished wordlessly. Taja had waited weeks, even months, patiently awaiting an update, a message, news, anything … but it had been a wasted endeavor. All that time, she never once exited from the underground caverns and passages networking beneath the main Bast Keep. She didn't eat, nor speak, nor move, existing only in a comatose state with nothing save the spiritual denizens of the castle to accompany her, until finally, countless days later, she was discovered by her age-old friend and fellow Sith, Eve Siren.

The voices in Taja's mind now began whispering to her, loudly and harshly. He knows something, they murmured. He's trying to trick you. The low hum rapidly gained in fervor and pitch as they talked amongst themselves, deafening her with their excited shrieks and wails. The subject was universal -- Xireon Jiren, the notorious Sith Master, whose exploits were the stuff of legends and which parents used to concoct gruesome tales with which to scare their children, their descriptive powers never once exaggerating in their malicious depictions of the man. Xireon Jiren, the one who had accepted Taja as his disciple and guided her through and beyond her days at the now obsolete Dark Circle.

Xireon Jiren, who had abandoned her.

"What say you, my voluptuous....Master?"

At that moment, the cries which had up until now blocked out Cor-Si's entire speech swiftly and deliberately subsided, allowing for the Padawan's words to filter through her psyche, but not before embedding one last order inside her mind.

Kill him.

A sudden wave of energy slammed Cor-Si in the chest, throwing the fallen Jedi back violently against the mirror behind him and shattering the glass into infinite pieces. His limbs were immobilized, as though tied down by numerous invisible shackles, and these same tendrils seemed to be coiling around his throat, becoming increasingly tighter and tighter with every passing second and restricting his ability to breathe. At the same time, his vision seemed to darken unnaturally, making him utterly blind to his surroundings.

"What do you know of Xireon Jiren ?!"

Her eyes widened as Cor-Si's hefty frame collided suddenly against her much smaller one, sending her reeling back towards the closet doors with the full load of the Padawan bearing down heavily upon her before he rolled away to safely land a short distance away. Taja's spine arched painfully from the impact and she gasped loudly, sliding to the floor in a sprawled heap. Her hair fell to cover either side of her face and she lifted her hands to her chest in a feeble attempt to calm down her sorely heaving breaths as she inhaled rapidly through her open mouth; the Sith was of a thin, even fragile build, and her body was not reacting well to having had the man's entire weight, together with the added pressure from his fast lunge, press down forcefully over her chest and abdomen.

After a minute or two, Taja slowly rose to her feet, one hand still resting lightly at the base of her neck while the other clutched onto the edge of the door for support. Just as Cor-Si had predicted, the movement had successfully diverted away the unseen threads which had been binding him down only a few moments ago, and as the Sith Master raised her head now her face was contorted into a stunned grimace. The incessant wailing inside her mind, however, had begun to die down, and as they gradually became muted, her anger similarly dissipated. Taja closed her eyes, and when she finally spoke, her words were uttered in the form of a choking whisper.

"Master …"

She swallowed, her voice trailing off as she winced from the effort. "He was my Master," she breathed quietly, and there existed in her tone a kind of finality that suggested the subject was closed, at least for the time being. The Sith then directed her deadpan stare at Cor-Si, and as he watched her now, he could discern no recognizable expression behind her dark, vacant eyes -- they appeared to be blank and devoid of altogether any and all sentiment.

"You have transportation, right ? Take me to Vjun."