A read-only archive of discourse.darkjedibrotherhood.com as of Sunday May 01, 2022.

Clan Plagueis: Vacation on Mustafar Run-On


Vacation on Mustafar RO - Instructions

Furios may have taken you to a less than ideal vacation spot, but you make the best of your situation anyway. While stuck on the scorching lava ball, do what you do to have fun while you’re here.

As this is an official, competitive Run-On for all members of Clan Plagueis, you must follow all the general rules for Run Ons available here .

Run-On Details

Posts must be a minimum of 150 words. Maximum should be approximately 1000 words (+/- 10/ten words allowed for minimum and maximum to prevent accidental automatic disqualification).

Open to all members of Clan Plagueis and its sub-units. Running competitively from May 20, 2019 until June 3, 2019.

Double posting must be avoided.

Bonus points may be added if your character has fun in an especially creative or impressive way considering the locale.

The Run-On will be graded on syntax, creativity, and continuity with a bonus for humor and levity.


Brigand Raider II-class corvette
37 ABY

Ronovi Tavisaen stood with Furios Morega di Plagia on the bridge of the corvette, overlooking the streaked confetti of stars. She was mindful of the numbers of Plagueians who had grown accustomed to the mess halls and small quarters of the vessel, and more and more, she questioned her superior’s motives in allowing this trip to happen in the first place. Perhaps Arden Karn di Plagia needed the space, or the peace or quiet; perhaps, she thought, he had plans.

“I remember Dagobah - I’m saying no to the invitation,” was all Karn had said to Ronovi as he waved her dismissively out of his office. “Have fun.”

Ronovi had sighed noticeably after that. Now, she stood with the former Quaestor of Karness Muur, a fellow Epicanthix like herself, yet remarkably taller. His eyes were transfixed on the kaleidoscope of hyperspace, his mouth drawn in a thin, yet pronounced, smile.

“You’re gonna get hyper-rapture if you keep staring like that,” Ronovi teased Furios, her arms folded beneath her worn down jacket.

Furios wasn’t fazed. “Darth Vader didn’t get hyper-rapture.”

“Yeah, speaking of Vader - what in kriff’s name made you think this destination was better than the swamp?”

“Everyone was saying they wanted to go to a ‘hot spot,’” Furios insisted, still grinning. “How is this any worse than a sauna or spa day?”

“I could name several reasons.”

“Just relax, Tavisaen. This should be interesting for you. Lots of history and lore on this planet.”

Ronovi decided to say nothing. They dropped out of hyperspace shortly after that.

Destination Planet
37 ABY

The hinges of the corvette’s shuttle creaked and hissed, and as the Plagueians averted their eyes, they were still created by an unnatural heat and glare. Everything outside was orange and red. A near hellscape seemed to await them: Lava, pits of fire, black mountains rising to kiss angry scorched clouds. A few Plagueians vocalized their shock and wonder.

“Are we dead?” asked Zuser Whuloc. “Because I think we’re dead, and this is the afterlife.”

“Can’t be worse than flying with you,” muttered Lokast Falls, who had heard the stories.

Khryso Mallus and Brimstone, in particular, were not exactly prepared for this weather. Being Chiss, they were naturally accustomed to the cold, with Brimstone even camping out in an old CIS outpost that had been converted to a Plagueian station recently. Brimstone’s red eyes narrowed, and he loudly huffed at the sight of the volcanic planet.

In the next minute, Furios was bounding down the shuttle ramp, waving his arms in enthusiastic delight. Around him, various land transports were ready to cart Plagueians away to set up camps, hostels, and “hotels.” Round two of his shift as travel agent was about to commence.

“Welcome, Plagueis,” he bellowed, “to the planet Mustafar!”


Brigand Raider II-class corvette
37 ABY

Brimstone watched as Furios was giddy about the surprise vacation he planned. Watching out the view port, the Chiss could only let out his concern of really disliking the destination. Mustafar. The old home of Lord Vader. The culmination of the Sith rise and the Jedi destruction. Lava and Heat. That was all it provided. And the Chiss was not amused.

“Furios, is this some kind of joke? If so, you can go ahead and start planning my trip back to Aliso” spoke up the Chiss.

“Oh come on Brim. It ain’t that bad.”

“In case you have had a brain hemorrhage and lost your memory, I am a Chiss. We don’t care particularly for the heat.”

Ronovi looked at Brimstone and just glared at him. All she could think of was the time they were in Tarentum and hoping Arden doesn’t jettison the Chiss through a airlock. “C’mon Brim. It’s a vacation. I am sure you will find something enjoyable.”

The Battlemaster just glared through his blood red eyes at the Wrath. He knew everyone else was anxious to be on vacation. He, himself, found vacations pointless and a waste of time that could be used to hunt down the Collective and eradicate them.

“If I must, Ronovi” retorted the Chiss, “But if I find it a waste of time, I will head back to Aliso.”

Zuser watched and smirked. He stared at his holopad as the details of the planet scrolled on its screen. “Perhaps a good old-fashioned bar-b-que is what you need Brim!”

Khryso Mallus looked over at his fellow Chiss. He understood why he was frustrated. But he was anxious to actually step in the famed Sith Lord’s castle. Perhaps to learn something more of the Ancient Sith he had learned so much about.


The climate-controlled interior of the shuttle shielded its occupants from the heat for the time being. However, even as Khryso Mallus retrieved his datapad from its pocket on the inside of his cape, he could feel heavy, pulsing wisps of heat beginning to invade his personal space. It wasn’t the same dry heat that he’d experienced on desert planets like Tatooine; there was a unique flavor to it.

With his datapad, Khryso reviewed the objectives he had in mind for this vacation. Developing some rapports with his clanmates, exploring and studying some of the historic and significant locations, and utilizing the hostile environment to sharpen his ability to adapt to foreign biomes. While this certainly was being billed as a vacation, Khryso couldn’t grant himself the time to relax completely. That was for the future.

Slipping his datapad back into his cape, Khryso decided to bypass socializing with his fellows for the time being and instead made for the shuttle’s exit ramp. He regarded Furios with a nod, pausing at the bottom of the ramp as the wave of heat properly washed over him. Sucking in a quick breath and steeling himself against the elements, Khryso took a few steps away from the ramp.

Gazing out at the scenery just beyond the landing pad, he was immediately struck by the power that the scene of fire and brimstone provided. It was truly awe-inspiring and he could see why the Empire had established such a presence here, even beyond the personal significance the place held to Darth Vader. Turning to Furios again, he said, “I appreciate your taste in locale, Warlord.”

As more members of the clan began to disembark the shuttle, Khryso moved a bit further away to give some space. At first he had been afraid that disrupting his usual studies with a trip like this would do more harm than good, but now he was glad he’d come.


The campsite was a hive of activity as Plagueians mingled amongst themselves, it had been quite some time since they had all been together in one spot and even longer since it had been for relaxation; or at least as much relaxation as this “vacation” of Furios’ would allow. The mood in the camp was mixed, some were excited to explore this planet so deeply entrenched in the dark side of the Force while others were obviously dismayed by the hostility of the environment.

TuQ had little time to worry about either at the moment as he was overseeing the construction of their camp by the clan’s subjugates. Dozens of workers scurried around raising large tents and erecting quick wooden walls in the shape of a small town.

A pile of crates was being brought down the boarding ramp of a shuttle on a series of hover-carts. Sweat poured off of the subjugates as they worked, their conditioning preventing them from complaining about the incredible discomfort from wearing their jumpsuits in this heat.

“Those crates go in that building over there.” TuQ’uan pointed towards a makeshift building sitting not far from the lake of lava that passed by their camp. “Take them in and unload them fast. If that cantina isn’t operational in the next twenty minutes you may want to hope you brought your swim trunks.”

This was a Plaguian vacation and the House Karness Muur Quaestor knew exactly where the majority of the clans priority lay, and if the liquor wasn’t flowing soon, he would be the least of the subjugates worries.


Separatist Council Conference Room
37 ABY

Scudi Ferria looked out across the room that had been the site of the slaughter of the Separatist Council decades prior. It wasn’t just a sightseeing trip though. Scudi was here to gather up any lingering technology that remained to tinker with. Though she’d become acquainted with the Plagueian known as Tahiri, the Chiss was very much operating independently of the group. The money was good, but no amount of credits was worth selling her freedom for. Especially given the sinister vibe she felt when in Tahiri’s presence, despite her cheerful and friendly attitude.

The slicer scanned the room with her eyes, looking for any technological remnants of the bygone era. The technology was an excellent business to be in, especially with old technology. The holotransceiver seemed to be a particularly spicy piece of tech. It could go for a nice chunk of change if she were able to make sure it worked well. Approaching the conference table, the Chiss sized up the holotransceiver, wanting to be very careful to not cause any damage to the delicate piece of technology. As she cautiously approached the item of valuable technology, a noise began emanating from her comlink, someone was trying to get in touch. Scudi attempted to tune out the noise and accomplish her task regardless of the interference but whoever it was didn’t seem like they’d be taking no for an answer.

“Who are you and why are you disturbing me?” A rather frustrated Scudi asked of the being that had contacted her.

“I’m sensing the frustration in your voice Scudi, I didn’t mean to interrupt. I just thought you should know a significant amount of people have recently arrived on Mustafar. They don’t seem to be hostile to the natives, but they haven’t encountered them yet. I thought you might want to check it out. Sorry for interrupting.” Andi, Scudi’s droid secretary and friend responded.

“OK, Andi, I’ll head over there and check it out. Can you make arrangements with the locals for nobody to be allowed into the conference room? I want that transceiver to be here once I’ve checked out what all the fuss is about.” Scudi didn’t wait for the droid to answer and trusted it’d be done. She hastily gathered her things and went off to find the new arrivals.


Muse blinked in the heat. She wasn’t accustomed to this climate and the sweat dripped from her brow as she unpacked her things. Of all the places they could have travelled to, they had to come here. Her initial perception of this barren place was shock mixed with awe as she had heard the history of Mustafar and wanted to explore. The stifling heat was rapidly changing her view of their vacation spot, though.
She reached up and unclasped the gold bands encircling her lekku. She gasped as the heat of the metal burned her hands and let out a sigh of relief. Her lekku felt cool in comparison to when the bands were attached as the warmth heated them quickly. Her headband was lined so she left it on as she stooped to pick up her holster belt and fastened it in place around her waist. This may be a vacation, but she was going to be prepared. She stood and surveyed her surroundings as she tried to spot anyone she could count on for a few pointers on this harsh, forbidding planet…


Tahiri sat around the Plagueian camp with a strange sense tingling in the back of her mind. Something was here and it was keeping her from relaxing. Standing up with a huff, she excused herself from the campsite and wandered away. Letting the Force guide her, she soon found herself walking down a path that lead under the cliff that held Vader’s Castle. As she crested a rise she could clearly hear the sounds of martial combat. Breaking into a jog, she quickly reached the base of the slope. There she found a small camp constructed of simple grey tents, utilitarian and clearly military. A short examination of the area she noticed a pair of warbanners flanking the entrance to the camp. Deep crimson, trimmed in silver, decorated with all five of the Brotherhood’s tassets, a Plagueis medallion and the sashes of a Magistrate of the Herald, and most telling of all, emblazoned with silver serpent clenched in a black gauntlet; the heraldry of her master, Wrathus.

Confident in who would be there, the Torgruta strode calmly into the camp. She turned the corner of a tent to see two individuals sparing along the back of a river of lava. One she could identify instantly, the other was unknown to her. She could clearly see her master, tall and broad, his palid white skin only outshone by his snow white hair. She observed his sparring partner to be a Twi’lek girl of about half her age. Her striking red skin immediately drawing her attention. Tahiri took a step towards the pair and instantly both ceased their combat and turned to her.

She took in their appearances, her master’s moreover. In a rare instance, he was not wearing his terrifying black armor. Instead he was clad in a pair of black boots, red trousers, and a lightly armored battle-skirt. His torso was completely exposed, save for a pair of simple black bracers, and black hood with a strap. This attire gives her a good look at her master’s many scars and reminders of his past. It had only been a few months since she had last seen him without his helm on, but for some reason, it seemed like he’d aged a dozen years or so. Despite how much work he puts into maintaining his physique, his face was lined and slightly haggard.

The girl was remarkable in her own way. Baring the rare red skin of Lethan Twi’lek, the thick black tattoos of a Sith, and the same sulfuric yellow irises that she bore. Notably, her sclera were still white not the black that Tahiri’s were. She also noticed that she was dressed very revealingly, the barest of cloth covering her feminine bits. As Tahiri went to speak, her master snapped his fingers.

“Sin, return to the tent,” Wrathus spoke curtly. The girl bowed and swiftly disappeared into one of the tents in the campsite. The Sith Battlemaster never took his eyes off his apprentice.

“What are you doing here?” His question was short and to the point.

Tahiri stared back at her master, and objectively, her right hand within House Ajunta Pall. “I’m here with the rest of the clan on vacation, Aedile. Have you not received the holos?”

Wrathus soon settled into an at-rest stance with his hands clasped behind his back. “No Quaestor, I have been out of contact for two standard weeks. I came to Mustafar for a personal retreat. Take some time away from the politics and stress. Came out here to work on Sin’s physical conditioning and reinvigorate ourselves.”

The girl reemerged now dressed in a set of black and grey hooded robes and a nondescript mask. Wrathus motioned to the girl.

“Apprentice, allow me to introduce you to one of my Warshadows.”

The girl bowed to Tahiri and with an emotionless tone spoke. “Greetings, Mistress, I am called Sin.”

Tahiri nodded to the girl thinking ‘What kind of name is Sin?’ before speaking to her master.

“Master, would you accompany me back to the main camp? At least to inform the higher-ups that you’re here?”

Wrathus nodded and with a flick of his wrist, his lightsaber hilt leapt to his hand. “Very well. Let’s go.” He hung the hilt from his waist and motioned to the girl. “Sin, remain in the camp. Continue your exercises.”

The girl bowed. “As you command, my master.”

Wrathus motioned for Tahiri to lead on. “After you, apprentice.”


Fralideja Market Centre
37 ABY

Silas grinned as he made the deal with the merchant. Thirty five gravity supports for half of their value. It would be an excellent addition to his abode and Mustafar was the perfect place to purchase worn out supports if you knew how to fix them since the planet was a sea of molten lava.

He had awoken that morning and went hunting for lava fleas in the Gahenn Plains. After bagging a fair number, he had went to the Fralideja market to get the flea shells turned into a hardcase travel duffle. Silas was a man of very few possessions and he had heard that sand fleas made for the best travel cases due to their hard shells. Besides, after it was put together, it would have character, something that could not be said of a new durasteel case until it had been broken and repaired repeatedly.

He looked at his itinerary and he still had several more items that he needed to get knocked out before gathering with other mercenaries to go to the boxing event at The Last Resort. The boxing event would be interesting because it showcased the local northern and southern Mustafarians fighting. He was intrigued because the northerns were taller and had longer reach where the southerns were shorter and stockier.

It was good to be on the ground again after being holed up on the Brigand with the rest of the clan. The force users were uncomfortable to be around. While their loyalties all laid with the clan, the force users felt like an exclusive group of divas that he most certainly did not like spending more time then he had to. He was more comfortable being around groups of mercenaries or strangers. It didn’t help that he had heard rumors that one of the force users had crucified a guy in a bar back on Aliso.


Outside Plagueis Base Camp
37 ABY

After base camp had been set up and established, Khryso had gone off on his own to get some exercise. The air here was heavy and could be hard to breath, but that was all the more reason to force it through his lungs. Hiking through the black rock hills and plains, surrounded by rivers or lakes of lava, this was a true test of endurance. They may be on vacation, but Khryso wasn’t planning on letting himself go too much. He wanted to get somewhere in life, and the sooner he got there, the longer he could spend there.

A few minutes into his hike and he was already sweating heavily; a few more and his breath was coming in short, quick bursts. Khryso moved slowly, but with steady purpose and intent. He didn’t entirely know what lay before him. He had a general idea, as he had made sure to study some maps of the area on his datapad, but this wasn’t about getting to a physical location. He would push himself until he could push himself no more, until his physical body started failing him and he had to rely on the Force to carry him the rest of the way.

Occasionally the Chiss caught sight of vehicles in the distance or some of the planet’s native fauna skittering away when he neared them. Khryso knew there were some monstrous, powerful creatures here on Mustafar. He had planned on testing himself against some of them, hunting some roggwarts down and killing them personally. It might be a bit more than he bargained for, considering the effect the environment was already having on his body. That, however, only furthered his conviction.

Pausing for a moment, perhaps as an excuse to catch his breath, Khryso wiped his brow with the back of his gloved hand before pulling out his datapad. He pulled up a map of the area on the device’s screen and studied it carefully. If he kept going in this direction, he would reach one of the points of interest he had decided to study while he was here: the Separatist Mining Facility where Darth Vader was crippled. He made up his mind. No matter how much he had to struggle, he was going to walk the entire way there. He wasn’t overly fond of breaking the schedule he had created, but you couldn’t plan for everything. Khryso wanted to test himself and for now, no matter how long or difficult it was, this was how he was going to do it. Tucking his datapad away, Khryso resumed his hike through the hot, shimmering air.


Plagueian Camp
37 ABY

Scudi Ferria saw the makeshift camp that had been set up around the large vessel, suggesting it was some form of basecamp. Scudi spotted a familiar symbol she’d seen a lot on Aliso, this camp belonged to the Plagueians who ruled parts of Aliso. The towering woman didn’t exactly know why they would come to such a remote location, but that was something she could figure out with time. If only she were able to grab hold of someone who had such information if they knew it or not. It was then she spotted a young Human male, not an uncommon sight but this one was dressed differently from the usual military personnel. At the very least, it was a way to kill some time.

“Hey, you there, I was hoping you could help a woman out. You see, I know who this camp belongs to, but I don’t know why they’re here. I was hoping you could fill in what I don’t know for me. Do you think you could do that?” Scudi asked of the unknown individual. Hopefully, he would be somewhat helpful.

Silas turned towards Scudi, taken off guard and was a bit stunned by the taller, red-eyed Chiss that was speaking to him. A hint of familiarity entered; he was sure he had seen her before since such tall females were a rarity.

“I’m not sure if I can. That information is classified. Who do you think this camp belongs to and why are you here?” Silas responded curtly. He was curious, though he didn’t know this woman from Eve yet she claimed to know who Plagueis was, he hadn’t been with the organisation long enough to meet everyone. She could be someone famous, so he wasn’t quick on the blaster.

Scudi sighed, knowing that he was challenging her, “Fine, what do you want me to answer?” The taller of the two sentients responded to the shorter individual.

Silas smiled, “You read my mind. We’ll start with an easy one, who leads the group you think this site belongs to?”

“Well, officially there’s a man who calls himself Arden Karn. He’s allegedly a user of the Force, but he acts more like a mercenary than most of their kind do.” Scudi responded confidently. She knew it was as much about how she met the questions than the content of her responses.

“I don’t know. Everyone has heard of a man called Arden Karn. He’s a wanted convict in several systems. How do I know you’re not a law officer looking for some easy collars?” Silas was impressed, though he was doing his best to not let on as much, instead of asking for more clarification.

“How many law officers do you suppose would travel to on Mustafar and also know that the camp bears the mark of Plagueis. Say, do you know Tahiri? She has more names but let’s be honest, neither of us has all night to spend answering that. A red Togruta, kind of short. And how do I know that you’re not what you’re accusing me of being?”Scudi was starting to get antsy with this human, and it showed on her face. He was a bit taken when she dropped Tahiri’s name, and she knew she had him on the defensive.

“What colour are the taps on Omega?”

“Beige with bronze highlights. It’s an old Separatist facility.”

He crossed his arms and looked up at her seriously, “Well, I haven’t seen you in the wanted comms, and I’m pretty sure a tall Chiss would stick out. Going back to whether I can help you out, Plagueis is here for a vacation.”

“A vacation? On Mustafar? Who in the frak would go for a vacation on a planet like this?”

“Somebody called Furios. It’s his thing. I’ve not been around long enough to know why he’s in charge of this, but there are your answers. You never gave me your name I noticed.”

“Oh, how rude of me. I’m Scudi. And you would be?”

“I’m Silas Manx. I was going to take in a boxing show at a local bar if you wanted to come with?”

“Sure, I’ve got no reason to stick around here, and it might be fun.”


It was yet another sweltering day on Mustafar and TuQ’uan was surprisingly getting tired of cheating people out of their credits at Sabacc every night. Today he was going to try something different, he was going to hike over to the closest thing that passed for civilization and spend some of the small fortune he had accumulated.

It wasn’t a particularly long walk but it was an exhausting walk, it had the Kel Dor really hoping that there was some form of air conditioning in this place. As he approached the series of black spires that sat above the molten lake, jutting out of the rocky landscape of Mustafar a sense of relief washed over TuQ.

He proceeded to spend the next few hours wandering all over the small trading outpost, the halls and walkways were filled primarily with a mix of Northern and Southern Mustafarians with a smattering of other species mixed in.

Only one shop seemed to interest the House Karness Muur Quaestor at all, a hole in the wall fashion boutique. The inside of the shop lacked any distinct personality, it was long and narrow with racks of clothing lining either side of the store, a round counter in the middle and a change room toward the back. The store was divided between Northern fashion on one side and Southern on the other, both sides would be ill fitting for the Kel Dor.

It was an item at the back of the shop that had caught TuQ’uan’s attention. A hat of impeccable design, a slate gray brimmed hat with red stitching and a band around the crown that faded from a bright red to a burgundy and changed the particular shade of red with the angle that it was viewed from.

TuQ’uan was in love.

He reached out like someone yearning to hold the hand of a lover. Time seemed to slow and nothing in the world could pull the mercenary from this moment. Gingerly, he grasped the hat by the crown with one hand while removing his current hat with the other. With his head tilted forward, he placed this masterpiece of headwear upon his head and slowly looked up at the nearby mirror.

He was devastated.

The hat he had fallen so deeply in love with sat awkwardly atop his head, designed to fit the oddly shaped heads of the Southern Mustafarians.

“Uh, sir?” he called over to the Northern shopkeeper, doing his best to keep the emotion from his voice. “Can you make this in a larger size?”

The shopkeep looked up from his datapad, clearly annoyed.

“You wish, buddy,” the gruff, disinterested voice replied. “It’s one-size, take it or leave it.”

Hanging his head in defeat, TuQ’uan went off in search of a Sabacc table to drown his sorrows in credits.


The cantina was sweltering even with the air conditioned air being forced through the establishment. Smells of sour and sweetness filled the air from the concoctions of beverages and food stuff cooking. Brimstone, dressed in his black inquisitor uniform, sat in a corner enjoying a meal of Mustafar flea venison. It was an interesting flavor of meat he hadn’t tried before, but Brim was game to sample other cultures flavors and cuisine.

In the corner by the north side of the cantina, was 6 individuals playing sabacc and betting, loudly conversing and heavily drinking. He thought of taking their money but saw no point in it as it would been too easy to use the Force to manipulate or read the participants minds to know what they had. The Chiss was bored with the vacation. He had studied the planet in the archives and figured he learned all he needed to know. And being the Iron Throne had never come to claim the planet as theirs, despite its dark history, was more than enough evidence that Mustafar served nothing more than a notation in the archives.

As he continued eating, a figure came in wearing black and a familiar brimmed hat. His Quaestor in Karness Muur, TuQ’uan. Brim could tell something was up as he had an aura of disappointment radiating from him through the Force. And usually when that had happened, someone probably insulted him for his headgear. Brim knew he wasn’t Force sensitive like most of Plagueis was, but he had built a good reputation of being a accomplished fighter and hunter.

Brimstone watched as he ate. The Kel Dor walked over to the sabacc table and after a bit of small talk, sat down and tossed credits in front of him. a half hour went by and TuQ looked like he was doing fairly well. Brim finished his meal, dropped a couple creds down as payment, wiped his mouth and stood up. He made his way to the game and saw a seat open. “Mine if I join in?” he asked. Most everyone looked at him except TuQ, who just says “if you got the creds to lose, sure.”

The Chiss sat down and cards were dealt.4 hands…5 hands…6 hands passed by and Brim saw how good TuQ was from the rumors he had heard. Already down 200 credits, Brim wasn’t going to give up. “TuQ’s luck can’t last forever” he thought to himself.

The 7th hand was dealt and The Chiss looked at his two cards. After a small wager, he asked for a card. Looking at his new hand with a emotionless expression. He passed to the next bettor. TuQ was holding a Star and an Endurance card which brought his total to negative twenty-five, two over the max score of -23 allowed to win. He put down his bet and was dealt his third card, a 2 of flasks, bringing his total to the negative twenty-three, a Pure Sabacc. He knew he had the hand to win and he pushed forward 100 credits and says “I call” which meant that everyone else either can take one card or fold.

Four of the other players folded. The other two took a card each in their hands. When it came to Brim’s turn, he called too, not taking a card. The two laid down their hands of twenty-one each. TuQ smiled as he laid down his three cards, showing a Pure Sabacc. The other’s grunted in disbelief as the Kel Dor reached for the pot.

“Hold on TuQ, that’s a nice hand there, but I don’t think it will beat mine” spoke the Chiss as he laid down his three cards. TuQ’s eyes widened in disbelief when he saw Brim’s hand was a 3 of Coins, 2 of Staves and an Idiot, an Idiot’s Array. The Chiss smiled as the Kel Dor grunted, reaching for the pot of over 700 credits to himself.

“Very nice play Brim” spoke the Raider, “I definitely didn’t see that one coming.”

“Whenever you gamble, my friend, you eventually lose.”

TuQ gave him a glare. “You did not just go Jinn on me, did you?”

Brimstone laughed as the others looked confused, unknowing what a Jinn was to them. “Perhaps I will make it up to you with a new hat!”


Plagueis Main Campsite

“Out of my way!! Move it!”

The young Mystic roughly shouldered aside a subjugate that didn’t get the warnings as he ran into the first tent he found, which just so happened to be the bar. His arms were held close to his chest as if he was clutching something priceless. Skull, the K-series droid, lumbered behind him, holding an R5 series astromech in its lanky arms.

Finding an empty table still covered in empty bottles and glasses and bits of food, Zuser quickly swept out his right arm, extending with the Force from his hand. With an urgent sweep, the table was suddenly and loudly cleared of trash, the various items clattering to the ashy and rocky floor. Gingerly the maverick laid down a large chamois cloth on the table before digging into his satchel for tools.

“Skull! Set it down here next to the table and get me a light!”

Obeying his master, the tall droid set down the droid body before reaching up and yanking a lamp from the tent ceiling, eliciting cries of disgruntlement from the other members but Zuser didn’t care. With careful, steady hands he opened a panel on the droid body and quickly but carefully began removing something from inside it and replacing it with the items from the table. After several minutes he closed up the panel and grabbed a part from his satchel, and opened a larger panel to insert it in.

“Well it’s not a permanent solution but it’ll at least be enough for you to function… Don’t worry, once we get back to Aliso I’ll get you installed with a proper power supply.”

Closing the panel, Zuser began the hardest and most anxious part: waiting. He sat in a squatting position for what seemed like 20 minutes to the rest of the members in the bar tent. Suddenly the three eyes on the droids head glowed orange and the droid emitted a series of discordant beeps. Smiling, Zuser patted the spot covered droid on its flat head.

“Welcome back, Widget.”


The pair walked in silence as Tahiri led the way back to the clan’s temporary camp. Glancing at Wrathus, she was happy to finally know where he had gone off to for the past two weeks. She was used to him disappearing for weeks or months on end, however, Tahiri was a little pissed that he had left at a time when she needed his help with getting things in order. As the new Quaestor of House Ajunta Pall, she had more responsibilities then when she was Aedile. The fact that she was here on Mustafar, was to have at least a little down time of her own, before going back to those responsibilities. With Furios and Ronovi being so secretive about everything, and then giving both her and TuQ’uan a ship-ton of preparation work before this little vacation.

Thus, due to Wrathus’ absence, all that ‘work’ fell onto her shoulders alone. The more the Togruta thought about this last week of prep, before the vacation, the more she became angry. With almost little to no sleep, the Quaestor had managed to get all the preparations, supplies, and ships ready to go before this vacation.

At least I was able to catch up on one night’s sleep last night before and then on the ride here. Would have been easier if he’d been around!

Before Tahiri knew it, she was walking at a very brisk pace, making Wrathus pick up his pace a bit just to stay close.

“I sense your anger, apprentice.” He commented nonchalauntly. Glancing down at her, he continued, “This place is the perfect to call upon the Force, if you too the time to relax. To strengthen your bond with the Dark side, and utilize that anger you h…”

“I know all about Mustafar, Master.” Tahiri interrupted. For a moment, a sliver of fear crept into her thoughts, as she realized she just did the one thing she had almost dared never do to him for years. However, her anger rose and pushed that tiny sliver from her being, as she continued her brisk pace. “There is no need to lecture me in it’s connection to Dark side, or the histories of Mustafar itself. I remember my studies you gave me, and everything I learned from the Shadow Academy, and from the couple times I’ve spent here by myself. I will learn for myself the other secrets this planet holds, at a later time, when I’m not so busy keeping the affairs of the House intact and schedule.”

Tahiri could feel the heat rising within her blood, and it wasn’t because of the surroundings. The Togruta didn’t realize that Wrathus had suddenly slowed his pace for a moment. He seemed almost taken aback by her abruptness. Although this was something he had seen before, this time it seemed like she was going to be the first to lash out. He considered for a moment slowing a bit more, so that there was enough distance between to engage if she did strike.

But the strike he had been waiting for never came. Upon reaching the camp, Tahiri had led him to the main tent of the camp where Ronovi had taken up a small residence in. Knocking on the post of the doorway, they were admitted entrance to tent.

“Wrath Tavisaen, look at who I found vacationing here as well.” Tahiri said with flourish of her hand.


Separatist Mining Facility
37 ABY

Once Khryso Mallus had finally made it to his destination, he took the necessary time to rest and recover his strength. Thankfully, the journey had not been as arduous as his worst expectations, but a great amount of effort had still been required to complete the hike. He was a little behind schedule thanks to his sudden change of plans, so Khryso took the time to rework his schedule as he rested in the climate-controlled facility.

Thankfully, he had been generous while allotting time for some of the things he’d wanted to do, and Plagueis would be spending enough time on the planet for him to push some things back if needed. It was a small matter to make things work, at least for the foreseeable future and provided he didn’t disrupt the schedule again. He usually wasn’t quite so impulsive, but something about the deep heartbeat of this planet pushed him more than usual. The darkness here was something that he found quite intriguing and he had only felt something similar on some of the Brotherhood’s hallowed locales.

Once he had finished reorganizing his schedule and refreshed himself with the drink and snacks he’d brought along, Khryso got to his feet and began his exploration of the facility. This place was filled with history, even if that history was short. The multitude of events that had transpired here over fifty years ago had shaped the galaxy in untold ways. The Chiss wasn’t sure what he could learn from this place, if anything, but he wasn’t sure if he would ever get the chance to experience this first-hand again. This was why he wanted to take advantage of the time he had here.

The records that the Shadow Academy had on exactly what transpired in this facility weren’t exact, but they were clear enough to give Khryso Mallus some key areas to focus his exploration and study. The landing pad where Darth Vader confronted his former Jedi friend, the conference room where the Separatist leadership was killed off, the nearby beach where Darth Vader was crippled. Despite having to reorganize his schedule, the Hunter still had given himself plenty of time to experience these locations first-hand.


Wrathus smirked at the tent as they entered. It could not have been more different than the state of his own lodgings. Where his were simple and utilitarian, the Proconsul’s was lavish and opulent. Where he had a simple and comfortable cot, Ronovi had a large, comfortable bed. This was clearly a tent designed to Ronovi’s personal tastes.

Ronovi, holding a glass of Whyren’s (of course), stood up at Tahiri’s words and turned around to meet the gaze of a towering man with snow white hair. She had to blink a few times before she realized it was the new Aedile of House Ajunta Pall.

“Ah, Wrathus, a ‘pleasant’ surprise to see you here, and out of that armor.” She took in his appearance and, despite her preferences, had to admit he looked good despite his age. She shook her head a little. “Come on in, you two. Care for a drink?”

Tahiri shrugged and nodded. “Sure, why not?”

Wrathus shook his head and pulled a wineskin off his waist. “I’m good.”

Ronovi shook her head and sighed. “That ain’t wine is it?” The man gave her a knowing smirk and pulled the stopper off and began lifting it to his lips. But then the chrono on his wrist chirped and he stopped.

Looking at the chrono his expression dropped. He did his best to hide it from his apprentice, but Ronovi could easily catch it and figure out that he didn’t want to appear unsettled in front of his apprentice. The proconsul saw an opportunity to gain some rare insight into the enigma that is Wrathus.

“Tahiri, could you give Wrathus and I a moment alone?” The girl nodded and walked to the entrance of the tent. Looking back she could tell that something would about to happen.

Once the younger Togruta had exited, Ronovi turned to the man. “So Wrathus, what’s on your mind?”

Wrathus looked at the younger Epicanthix. “I was just reminded of what day it is.” He lifted the skin to his lips and took a long pull. “Today would’ve been her birthday.”

Part of Ronovi said she shouldn’t ask, but she couldn’t help it. “Whose birthday?”

Wrathus starred a hole through her for what felt like an eternity. After another long pull from the skin, Wrathus spoke.

“Renali Thorn. My mother.”