<font color=808080>The bridge of the
Carrion was a dark place. It had always been dark, as both a haven and a tribute to it’s master. The conditions were suited to him, and not to others. Although the crew had come to adapt, via necessity, it was still an unnerving experience for any visitors who happened to walk in the Dark Lord’s lair. After several mishaps, years ago, he had been forced to install a series of dim running lights on the floor.
Talus was a heartless basta
rd, but the
Carrion would be of no use to him if bridge workers kept falling down the crew pit. It was amusing at first, but after a time the supply of replacements started to wear thin, equally paralleling his patience.
The Sith sat in the centre of his dark kingdom now, overlooking the bridge and the endless star lines of hyperspace beyond from his throne.
A throne. Another addition the Imperial engineers probably hadn’t anticipated being placed on one of their ships. Unless of course that fool Palpatine had wished to visit. Then they’d have been grovelling at his feet attending his every whim. The fools. Talus chuckled, out of practise not drawing attention from his underlings. His long reptilian tail swished back and forth behind him, gently touching on Uraak’s leg as it brushed by. The man moved to accommodate his Master.
A rustling in the dark, which disturbed the silence for a moment, and then it resumed.
Seconds later, Uraak was at Talus’ side.
[[Milord, ten minutes to reversion.]] Uraak’s thought broke the bubble of silence Talus had contained himself in, and now he opened up, fully recognising the bridge around him. The Sith’s head was suddenly full of colours and noise, the thoughts of many surrounding him. The eagerness at the prospect of battle, the enthusiasm, the light-hearted power coming from some.
He hated it.
Rising from the black throne, Talus strode forward toward the main viewport of the ImpStar Deuce, casually pushing a tech into the crew pit on the way. Feelings from the room instantly ceased their cavorting and turned sullen with withdrawal when the man’s scream was heard.
Better.
He stopped walking, and folded his clawed hands across his chest. In one of them, he fingered a black knife, the one he always carried. He’d had it for years, and it was as sacred to him as the
Carrion. For it was his and no body else’s. It belonged to
him.
Still playing the blade from hand to hand, Talus summoned Nec to his side. The captain of the
Carrion, and one of Talus’ most trusted servants, this man was one of the first the Sith had enlisted to his cause.
“Time to reversion, Nec?” Talus hissed incomprehensibly. The metal translator affixed to his neck worked quickly, and translated into Basic what was being said.
“Seven minutes, Lord,” he replied automatically.
“Good...” Talus hissed quietly, the metallic voice conveying no emotion whatsoever. But he was still eager, like his foolish crew had the nerve to be. “Ready all weapons and fighters... but inform them to stay calm! We will not be involving ourselves in this,” and if it would have been possible, a hint of regret could be found in his voice. Talus would dearly have enjoyed fighting this battle, here, even though his sense of self-preservation would not stand idly by throughout it.
But no, this one was for the Achrions. This would be the first time Talus had witnessed them first hand in a large scale combat situation, and he wanted the opportunity to study how well they reacted to the situations faced with. To see how they felt, and to watch them through the Force, from his dark throne.
To see what they saw, to feel what they felt. To live their life, and despair at their death.
Oh, he wouldn’t be up there fighting on the front lines, but by no means would he miss the experience.</font>
