Thu Nov 04, 2010 6:10 pm by John Whalen
*The Western Square was nearly empty now that the sun had dipped below the horizon. The only light in Iziz came from the various lights that were caused by various street lights, homes and a few establishments that were still open. However most of the Western Square's population was currently in the Merchant Quarters, throwing money away at one of the local cantina's. Gaiscioch Dearg had only been here about a week, but he had noticed a very dull and repetitive pattern about this city. The citizens never left the medium sized city on the account that it was the only recognized settlement and so they had limited options for their leisure hours. There were a few small cantina's, and one that was more large and popular, and so every night many of the people living in Iziz ventured to them every night. Gaiscioch saw it as pointless. Nothing was wrong with spending a limited time enjoying yourself, even a Sith such as himself could see that. However night after night he watched men and women stumble back to their homes completely intoxicated and realizing that they had lost almost every credit they had made that day. He refused to believe himself once a King to these people. The memories that he had been given had shown him as a man that had demanded order among his people. As a General in the Warriors of the Iron Fists the men and women under his command had never been like this. They had enjoyed light recreation, but they had not squandered away entire pay's and given themselves over so much to drink that they could not find their home. Gaiscioch shook his head as he looked out of the small room that was rented under an assumed name. He had wanted to lay low. However before his thoughts could continue down the path of disdain his vision blurred and his knees felt weak. Colours swirled and an image of him standing before a throne wearing a golden circlet around his head. He shook his head clear. These visions had been coming increasingly since he had left Manaan. Clues to a past life. The real strange thing was that the visions seemed to confirm what the woman over Kuat had told him..
The giant of a Sith turned away from the window and pushed the doubts out of his mind. It was hard to believe the knowledge that he had been born with anymore. The Iron Fists had clearly meant to keep a large amount of his life kept from him. They had meant to bring him back as their own pawn and keep from him that he had left them for some unknown reason. He felt angry. Angry at those that he had called brothers for so many years. Since he had visited Kuat and Onderon he had been handed irrefutable proof time and time again. The Iron Fists had been destroyed, while the faction that he had newly been a part of tried to defend them. The battles had been lost and An Tiarna Dubh, his former master, had been destroyed. Where did that leave him? He was a clone, a shadow of his former self. The Iron Fists had been disbanded and destroyed and the New Order of the Eye had given him some very disturbing news. The official reports that he had been able to get his hands on said that one of the High Lords had struck him down in the space station hovering over this very planet. The reason was never very clear. The public had been allowed to generate their own reasons as to why he had been killed on his own space station. Of course that meant that no matter how many times he had tried, he had never been able to find out for himself. He had wasted three out of the seven days that he had been here trying to find someone who knew the truth. He had almost considered going up to the Shipyards himself, but he had decided against it. Until he knew what his next move was he could not be recognized. And due to his size and build he was not an easy figure to disguise. He had never been very good with the subtle stealth arts of the Force and his weak attempts would have been recognized right away. No, he needed to know where he was going before he could make a move, but to know where he was going he needed all the information. The right information. However the more he thought about it, there was only one person in the galaxy that really knew why he had been killed. His murderer...*
*The crimson blade of a lightsaber appeared before his eyes as his thumb depressed the activation plate. The moment his shuttle had been allowed to sit in the spot that he had chosen Gaiscioch Dearg had started looking for pieces for a weapon. Both the soldier and Sith inside of him had screamed to have a weapon readily available for him. Just because he had not noticed someone following him did not mean that there was not. He was a clone that was meant for the Iron Fists and now out in the galaxy soul searching. Was there a fail safe program? Were remnants of the Iron Fists hunting him as a project both failed and no longer needed? Or perhaps the New Order of the Eye was hunting him down to keep his silence. Either option was problematic and both of them would require a weapon. Gaiscioch remembered that his former self had been very proud to call himself a Blademaster and so the logical choice had been to build a lightsaber. It was the symbol of the Sith. It would be a devastating weapon in his hand. Gaiscioch Dearg began to move through a few attacks and defensive maneuvers that he knew were part of the seven lightsaber combat forms. He did not believe himself to be at his full skill, but he knew enough to defend himself well enough. From anyone that actually was a Blademaster anyhow. But anyone lower than that and he should be able to kill off any attackers. The weapon was not made out of any special materials and the crystal had been bough off of some black market trader, but it was still a lightsaber built correctly. It would not short out of give him trouble. Gaiscioch Dearg nodded in satisfaction as he flourished the blade once more and hooked onto his belt. It felt good to have a weapon at his side...*
*However he needed more than just a weapon. He needed more information and he needed a destination. He was not a grand General for the Iron Fists or the New Order of the Eye anymore. He was merely a Sith now. There were no faction leaders telling him to destroy or kill and no one to betray him any longer. He had his own agenda now and he needed to make his first move. A Sith needed only a few things in life. An apprentice, a certain measure of power and influence. Those things needed to be had if a Sith thought they were going to leave their mark anywhere. However other pleasures were needed in life as well. Such as revenge. Gaiscioch Dearg's hand gripped the blade hilt on his belt as he thought of the man that had killed him. One "Lord Dragus". Some said he was a tyrant. Others a only knew him as a leader of distant planets controlled by the Eye. Some claimed however that he was the hero that had defeated Lord Dearg. Gaiscioch did not know if he had been a tyrant, or if he had done something to these people and the Lord of Famine had stepped in to stop him. He didn't know, but that was nothing he cared about. If he was seen as a tyrant then these people should have been educated better and should not have resisted the Sith rule. If he was not and this Dragus had simply fabricated the story to kill him then he wanted to know why. Had he been a threat? Or had been harming the Eye's cause? Gaiscioch Dearg felt more than just a drive for revenge pushing him. He was curious. He wanted to know why he had died and therefore he had decided yesterday that his first move was to find this Dark Lord of the Sith. He would find the Lord of Famine and rip the information from his brain. He had many plans on how to do that. He could best him in combat, humiliate him into talking. He may catch him by surprise and torture him, but that seemed unlikely. Gaiscioch Dearg's power in the Force and in combat had always been brute. Of course Gaiscioch Dearg was not driven completely driven by blood lust. Perhaps the other Sith could be used as an ally. Maybe he could be convinced that Gaiscioch Dearg could become a submissive servant. If the man had power and resources then Gaiscioch wouldn't turn them away. He didn't have to kill the man right away. With that happy thought the Sith Lord gathered his cloak and left the apartment. He would find this man, even if he had to use the flashes of memory that kept forming in his mind to do so. Dragus would be in one of the locations in his memory and Dearg would not rest until he was found...*