The Dark Academy on Korriban

Zeno sat shirtless and covered in muck on a rock next to a foul looking, terrible smelling giant tuk'ata head. Death's Shadow's head. His speeder was nearby and it looked like he had apparently gotten the bulk of brain matter and other assorted rotten meat from the inside of it and dumped it down the side of the ravine he was next to. There was gore splattered on the ground though. Something that old was not going to be so easy to move in one big lump.

He waited for his survival expert.

The sound of a speeder's enginges heralds the arrival of the said expert.

The vehicle slows to a halt near Zeno, and Shaisha flips her long, braided hair out of her hood, then slips off the seat.

Before she has a chance to greet him with her usual smile, her nostrils flare in protest of the terrible stench. "Urk... that smell."

"Yeah... we've been kept from this for far too long. Damned lack of free time," he says with a sneer at the skull.

"And damned the one who decided it was going to be several days of torture," she grumbles and tosses her cloak onto the speeder. Even if she felt it wasn't clean yet. At least she wore clothes she didn't mind getting dirty.

"Looking forward to meeting the Dark Council later?" she asks with a half-hearted smirk as she gets out the knife. Where to even begin on something this big?

"I am. I'll be page to Darth Ravage. That's a man I can get behind. Putting enemies in body bags behind enemy lines," he says with a chuckle. And then a cough from the stench.

"You know what, you're doing me a favor here," he moves to his speeder and grabs his tuk'ata helmet. "Put this on. It's got a breathmask in it."

"Thanks," she says, accepting the helmet. She had her own breath-mask in her utility belt, but the helmet would also shield her eyes from any potential gore. "Darth Ravage, huh? Sounds like someone right up your alley, indeed. Heard he's not a fan of Darth Thanaton, if that matters to you."

Slipping the helmet on, Shaisha takes a moment to get used to its weight and feel before returning to look at the task at hand.

"I know I'm doing you a favor, but from what I've seen and heard of you so far, Zeno, you seem to be someone of honor to return a favor when the time calls."

---

D7 LA. Helping Zeno with the skull of Death's Shadow. Survival. Boost from Zeno: 4eA+1eB+2eD 4 successes


OOC: Of course Orokos gives me all the successes on this stuff.

The helmet is extremely well balanced, and sits comfortably. Surprising for being made from a tuk'ata skull.

"I try to be," he says with a nod. "Honor, in the sith and true meaning of the word, is important. Those who earn respect deserve respect. I'm pretty sure that's why I hate that Layne bitch so much. She's done little to earn respect. Sure, she shows power but she doesn't value camaraderie or honor hierarchy."

As Shaisha slices away gore, Zeno pulls it from the bone and tosses it over the ravine.

Shaisha grimaces behind the mask.

"I let the fool run around while the rules of the Academy protects her. She might even learn to be housetrained by the time we graduate," she chuckles darkly. "She gets by now, because acolytes tend to avoid trying to kill other acolytes. Always messy to cover up such things. She probably won't last long after this... a Sith's power is measured almost as much in connections and a solid power-base as it is in terms of skills with a lightsaber and mastery of the Force."

"It's why people like us will be standing with the Dark Council, and she will not, because we understand how the Sith are."

"Yes. But let's not talk of brutes with no honor anymore. Especially ones that are lesser than us in combat ability to boot," he says indicating the skull before continuing the busy work.

"Who will you be page for?" he asks curiously.

"I would've liked to see someone like her fail against Death's Shadow. Never would've planned things as well as we did, or have had the connections to call upon," she laughs, and gives a nod.

Another chunk of rotting meat is tossed aside.

"Darth Vowrawn. Considered to be rather radical... which I don't really consider myself to be, but I believe there is value in considering all perspectives. Hear he got a sense of humor too, unlike most of the Council," she adds with another laugh. "We'll see how that goes."

"I am sure you'll perform excellently," he replies with a nod. "And I was working that connection during what little free time we had during the intense past few weeks. Made some credits for the effort and am developing a strong connection to a man with connections."

"I wouldn't consider myself radical either, but I do lean more that way from the moderate side. I've got nothing against change and tradition. Where it works it works. But if something comes along that's obviously got potential it's a waste to let it go just because it doesn't conform. The sith evolved to become what they are from tribals warring against each other. But we still cleave to the dark side. Some things will always be the same, other things will grow and improve."

The tuk'ata skull gives a nod. And the stained hands continue to work.

"I feel much the same. I believe in preserving the heritage and traditions of the Sith, it is my own heritage after all, but I also believe that if we do not accept new views, there will be nothing but an echo chamber filled with stagnation. A stagnating Empire will not defeat the corrupt Republic."

She heaves a sigh and takes a pause from the gory work.

"What does not evolve and adapt will die."

"It's a balancing act, staying true to the ideals and finding new ways to affect power within them. But it is the right way forward. But chasing change for it's own sake will create chaos," he replies. "The radicalists should be listened to carefully, and their ideas weighed. They play an important part in the way the empire works. Sort of like the issue of aliens. I care not what race one is bred from... if the dark side has chosen you then you deserve the chance to prove yourself sith. It is not their fault they have been born without a natural affinity like truth sith-bloodlines are," he says, tossing some more rotted flesh over the ravine. "Why hold them back and favor others? You stand the chance of turning the strong weak if you remove adversity, and holding those with potential back by putting walls in their way. Of course it is not guaranteed that that is what will happen, but why even allow it to be possible?"

More flesh rips off from the skull.

"As long as an alien can harness the power of the Force, and learn the teachings of the Sith, then I welcome them. I just have no tolerance for those who mock the teachings and the history..." she lets out a grunt as some of the stench got into the mask. Or she imagined how awful it did smell.

"If the conservative ones are to be mellowed out in their hardline stance, it doesn't help to have wild ones raving about throwing out the traditions and teachings that make us Sith. It should be what unites us, not what divides us."

"Yes, though my exposure to Jun-Tsu has altered my views a bit, I believe they are for the better. A stronger understanding of how the dark side is just as important as the Empire itself. Neither exists without the other. The traditions are important and teach us how to harness it, but in harnessing it we should serve it as well... at least I'm coming to feel. When it comes down to it, it's all about distilling power into a force that can be used to end the corruption and degradation of the galaxies natural state being done by the Jedi." The smell starts getting to him and he turns away and hacks heavily for a few moments.

"This thing is awful. I almost regret killing it... almost." He forces a smile through his gagging.

She grins underneath the mask.

"Pocket on the left hip," Shaisha says as her hips shift slightly, indicating the pocket on her utility belt she spoke of, where she had her own breathermask. "Won't keep it out of your eyes, but will help against the stench. Personally, I'm enjoying rocking this helmet I helped make. Even if it's just for now."

"Jun-Tsu... ah yes, the lady at the infirmary." With the funny accent. "Might be something to what you're saying there. Not quite sure if I agree with it, but it bears further thinking on. I will keep it in mind for the future. You talk a lot of philosophy with her?"

Zeno steps over to Shaisha and looks down at her hip. He places his finger tips on her leg and runs them smoothly up to the utility belt before grabbing it and tugging it gently. "In here?" he says with a playful smirk. "You put it in here?"

He flips open the pouch and pulls out the breathmask. He touches her lower back before walking away, gliding them across before returning to his spot. "My apologies. Death can get me a bit... excited."

He puts the mask on.

Her head tilts to the side to look at him as his fingers glide up her leg. Even through the mask, it was easy to guess she was probably smiling. And as his fingers touch her lower back, the small Sith arches her back slightly, enjoying the sensation of his touch.

"Does it...?" she purrs, twirling the blade between her fingertips. "Even in the circumstances of a rotting carcass? Perhaps I was fortunate you did not take advantage of my weakened and blood-stained state after we killed the thing then," she laughs warmly.

"Well, the thought was there," he says, with a grin as he gets back to work. "But never without your permission. Feel free to give it anytime."

It was much easier to breath now, but his eyes were still watering a bit. This was definitely nasty work.

Shaisha felt herself getting sweaty underneath the helmet. The only helmets she had worn before was the one she had been forced to wear when riding speeders in the past... up until the point she got old enough to take them off again once she was out of sight of the supervising adults.

"Good to know... though I can't say that this is as sexy as the last one," she lets out a dry chuckle, "putrefaction isn't quite as elegant as a fresh kill."

And this one was taking more work too. Partly because of the size, and partly because it was an utterly disgusting mess to work with.

"That is true," he leans on one of the cleaned spots on the skull and puts his weight on it. "But once it's good to go and washed, it might make for a sturdy bed."

He continues tossing flesh from the things face after Shaisha cuts it loose.

She looks down and laughs. "My, and here I thought someone like you already had a lady-friend. And probably a jealous one at that too, I'd bet."

Another large chunk of rotten flesh is cut away, leaving mostly the finicky little areas. At least the task was nearing completion!

"Definitely not the jealous type," he says with a smirk. "She's told me how things work among the Farro. Definitely not jealous."

He heaves a rather large chunk, but it kinda falls apart in his hands and some lands on his feet. "Fuck," he says looking down and kicking it off, before getting back to work.

"Ah, so you and Jun-Tsu have a... hmmm... understanding relationship, it seems," her voice conveys her cat-like grin. "Almost done here."

"Maybe I'll take you up on that offer another time. I don't know about you, but I intend to take some time to look my best for the Dark Council. I don't think they approve of rotting carcasses as fashion. Well, Vowrawn might, but I think someone like Thanaton would flip his lid."

"I don't see why we can't work together on looking our best," he replies with wide smile. "I'll need a shower too."

He gets a bunch of the smaller pieces tossing them over. "Thank the dark side we're almost finished. This thing is a beast."