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

Fall of the Moon, Rise of the Wolf Part One


Now in a new system, the ghosts of his past are slowly starting to catch up to him in the worst possible ways, with the worst possible timing. This is something that can’t possibly be avoided. It will set him on the path that he needs to be on. For when the galaxy wants something to happen it will make it so, no matter what it has to do to accomplish the task of what it wants.

Corellia seemed like a beautiful memory from long ago compared to recent events. Mactire sighed, remembering the planet and the pain he caused on it before stumbling his way across the Galaxy into the welcoming arms of Clan Naga Sadow. But as they say, the past always has a way of catching up to someone. In the Clan, Mactire appeared to be a Grey Jedi with anger issues. It was a mask for his darker nature. He was not quite Sith, yet still darker than most Grey Jedi would even think possible.

The transport ship was not one that Mactire would ever have thought he’d be on in his short lifetime, but then again nothing was ever as it seemed to him these days. The ship that he was stuck on was a prison transport vessel sent from one of the neighboring planets that Clan Naga Sadow sometimes helped out with. Though how he got this detail was still bothering him. What troubled him more was that the Inquisitors sent him an encrypted message.

An unknown figure appears on the viewing screen in long robes. The image flickered as it comes more into view, though the figure remains fully cloaked so as not to show it’s face.

A sweet, mysterious voice comes from the image. “Greetings Knight. If you are receiving this message then all is not lost. A member of your Clan has recently been attacked. The creature of this attack is what appears to be a Mandalorian, the cause was unknown.”

The figure fades from view and is replaced by an image of Qyreia firing off her blaster against an armored opponent. The Zeltron is running behind what appears to be rubble from a building, firing blindly behind her as she slides over more of the rubble for cover. She checks the clip of her blaster pistol, making sure it has enough charge left in it as the armored figure comes more into view.

The attacker appears to be in Mandalorian armor, though the color of it can’t be made out, due to the holo image of the recording. However Mactire can see clearly that there are a few engravings on the armor that aren’t with any known Mandalorian Clan. As the figure gets closer to Qyreia’s hiding spot it draws it’s blaster rifle and fires on full burst.

“Come out here and fight like a true warrior!!” It yells. The voice sounding somewhat synthetic with a mix of malice but hidden enough so that a gender can’t be guessed.

“Oh really? Fight like a warrior? How about we just, I don’t know play pazaak and call it quits?” Qyreia says back at the opponent.

More blaster fire comes hurtling towards Qyreia as she ducks, trying to stay in her cover and not get shot.

As the Mandalorian stops firing for a brief moment, Qyreia pops up quickly and lines up a perfect shot at the power cell of the blaster rifle and hits it only using three quick blasts.

The Mandalorian laughs, as it’s left hand is missing as well as most of its left arm. A vibro knife is pulled from a back slot, as it continues to march forward.

“But I just shot your arm off, how are you still walking? And not in, I don’t know, pain?!” Qyreia asks with immense shock on her face.

“Oh this? It’s just a flesh wound, can’t you tell?” The Mandalorian says whimsically.

“Okay then. You just stand right there and I’ll be back with a bigger blaster.” Qyreia says mockingly and takes off running for what looks like a small transport ship.

The recording cuts back to the cloaked figure. “Knight, you are going to be part of a unit that will track and find this assailant or group. You must not fail, and you most take them down with extreme hostility. The coordinates are being sent to the Captain now. As for the members of your unit, well they are already with you, and so is the Commander of the unit.” A slyness comes from her voice as the room suddenly fills with gas.

Mactire tries to concentrate upon the Force to create a barrier in order to help him, but it’s futile and he knows it as his eyes slowly to close. He can feel the weight of his body falling towards the ground.

The doors hiss open as guards walk into the room, lifting the unconscious Mactire slowly up off the ground.

“Make sure you put the suppression collar on him or else we’ll have one hell of a fight on our hands.” One of the guards mutters.

“Oh yeah sure like it’s my fault the last target got away. YOU had the collar, and YOU forgot to put it on. Now help me get him into the transport pod.” The other guard mutters, clamping the collar tight around Mactire’s neck.

Several hours later, Mactire wakes up to commotion from someone sitting next to and across from him. His head feels like it a Krayt dragon sat on it, or he had to much of Atra’s special blend from the Naga Sadow cantina again.

“Well loooook who’s finally awake? It’s the guy who didn’t have to walk with guards and cuffs on the ship. How’s it feel now to be shackled up like us common folk?” A female Iridonian says sarcastically at him.

She has black tattoos on her face with tan skin. Her eyes are purple like amethyst stones, her hair is auburn and pulled back in a ponytail. She has six horns forming a crown around her head.
“Really? How about we settle this in the ring and I’ll show you how uncommon we are. What do you say?” Mactire quips back, smirking while slowly looking around the area.

“Anytime suga. Maybe even sooner than you think.” She says maliciously with a hint of seduction.

Great, Mactire thinks, another Iridonian with a chip on their shoulder. Why do they always find me? Does the Force just hate me that much?

As this question runs circles in his head, he continues to look around the area. It seems like a standard small prison transport shuttle. Though why they are the only two on board, it seemed odd to him.

“You know the flight plan or what the fraq is going on?” Mactire looked at the Iridonian.

“Maybe, why should I tell you? You’re a prisoner just like me, didn’t you pay attention?” She says with slight aggravation in her voice.

Mactire shrugs, feeling the weight of the collar for the first time against his neck. He slowly tries to reach out with the Force to see if he can break it off of him. As he starts to lightly touch the Force a shock of pain goes through his body, making him clasp his jaw firmly, groaning in pain.

The Iridonian starts laughing hysterically. “Ohh boy. Now that was funny. I mean your face looked like you just ate Bantha Poo-doo. I mean, I didn’t know human faces could look like that with pain. What did you do think of? Or do?”

Mactire groans, “Well what I did was ask you a question and as for what I thought about well, I thought about this girl this one time.”

“Oh sure a girl this one time, like I haven’t heard that before in my life. I swear you humans are strange ones.” She says mockingly.

Mactire shrugs again, sighing lightly. Escaping is going to be harder if he can’t channel the Force. And how did the prison ship have a Force collar on board? They weren’t even made anymore, where they? These questions and more kept arising in his mind, as he recalled the transmission from before he wound up here. There was something that still felt odd about it to him.

“So you gonna answer my question, or do you want me to beg?” Mactire asks the Iridonian.

She sighs heavily. “Fine, might as well kill time, but not much to tell you. We landing on some planet in an area outside a combat and quarantine zone. That’s all I know. Someone from the system requested it.”

“Hmmm. I do remember a transmission about a combat zone, and a request for help but the quarantine part is new to me.” Mactire says as the shuttle starts to slightly shake.

The intercom crackles as a voice speaks from it. “If you’re awake listen up, if not, well you will be soon. We are docking with the Yaris soon. Have a nice day, scum.” A hiss from the static of the intercomm cuts out as the ride gets a lot more rough.

“Wait we’ve arrived already? But I didn’t get my complimentary drink yet!” Mactire yells.

“Oh, stow it human, we’re about to be in a worse place than before now.” The Iridonian says with both shock and fear in her voice.

“Why the fear? Finally get shocked?” Mactire smugly replies.

“No you nerf-herder! The Yaris is a Star Destroyer with enough fire power on it to destroy a planet. Well, enough to turn the planet’s surface to dust,” she says with more fear escaping through her words than she would like.

The shuttle comes to a halt, the landing gear screeches as it slightly scrapes against the floor of the Yaris’s docking bay.

A security force with heavy weapons, shock batons, and covered in full battle armor stand outside the hatch awaiting orders. One of the troops has a red stripe on their helmet with the insignia of a Phoenix on it, along with a yellow cloak.

“Alright troops remember these two are the final ones arriving. They are considered the most dangerous. Anything can happen, but we need their help. So take them alive if possible. If not we’ll write this plan off as a failure and proceed to the ultimate solution. Understand?” a metallic voice says through the helmet.

“YES SIR!” all the troops say, gearing up and readying themselves for anything.

Mactire cricks his neck slowly as the harnesses that were holding him and the other prisoner in their seats become undone. Standing up, he slowly rubs the back of his neck, remembering that the Force suppression collar is still on him. He looks to the back hatch as the sounds of the magnetic locks slowly start to disengage and the hiss of pressure equalizing from the compartment to the outside slowly happens.

The guards tense up as the hatch slowly lowers to the ground. All of their weapons raise quickly and aim at Mactire and the other prisoner. They don’t take their eyes off of them as their leader slowly steps forward.

“Greetings. Come on down slowly and I promise none will hurt you. If you refuse, we will be forced to come and retrieve you.” The leader says with both command and worry in their voice.

Mactire looks at the Iridonian and smirks whispering “Well we can have fun or we can just do what they say? What’s it gonna be, girl?” Saying slyly.

The Iridonian grins wickedly “First off, I have a name - it’s Jesca, and let’s party like Endor.” she says mockingly.

“Alright then, Jesca, I’m Mactire. Best thing would be for us to get them in here since they can only come in a few at time. This way we’ll have the advantage.” Mactire says, eyeing both her and the open hatch.

She nods lightly and gets into a fighting stance that is all too familiar to him.

“Well, we talked it over. I gotta admit your offer does sound nice. But we’ve decided on the hard way. It’s more fun for us,” Mactire yells back.

The leader sighs heavily, slowly stepping back. This wasn’t what they signed up for. These two were supposed to be the smartest, along with the deadliest of all the people that they grabbed. Now it was time just to see how much of the rumors were true, and how much of it was just myths.

“Alright men, they’ve made their choice. Let’s show them what we’re made of. Remember you are warriors of the Yaris,” the leader says lightly, instilling confidence into the troops.

The ones with the shock batons move up the ramp first, in three rows of four members each. They stand shoulder to shoulder, careful not to hit their comrades by accident with their weapons.

As they enter, Mactire and Jesca smile slowly, stepping backwards against the hull. The first row comes in fast once they fully get up the ramp. That’s their mistake. As they charge, they stumble over themselves slightly. Mactire leaps into the air, pulling a spinning kick, knocking two of them in the head, making them move to the right side of the ship, while Jesca grabs one by the throat, slamming the troop hard into the other one using their shock batons to knock each one out.

The second two units look at each other and then back at Mactire and Jesca. Their movements are halted somewhat possibly by wondering what to do next.

Mactire uses this brief moment to leap off the wall, and push down from the ceiling, taking down two more opponents. He quickly grabs one of the shock batons, and stabs the first trooper that he sees. While the trooper howls in pain, Jesca runs head first into another trooper knocking him back into the two troopers behind him.

The other troopers slowly start to back away. Mactire smirks and looks at them. “BOO!” he lightly shouts and they run out of the ship towards the rest of the group.

Mactire laughs. “And next time I’ll use mustard,” he shouts lightly, twirling the shock baton in his hand.

Jesca snickers at the joke, but still keeps her eyes on the potential new threats that could assault them.

“Well, I think we pissed them off, and they have blasters. Why is that when you get captured and sent to a new place you’re always out numbered and they are always heavily armed?” Jesca asks with amusement in her voice.

“Simple, every place is always compensating for something or the lack of something.”Mactire answers with pure confidence while wondering how they will get out of this without the use of the Force.

The leader steps up, raising their left arm up slightly. “Well then I’ll do this,” they say, while pushing a button on their arm.

Instantly, both Mactire and Jesca drop in pain, as his collar not only shocks him but her as well. They try to withstand the shock but end up collapsing to the floor, not only from the pain but the immense power that is being released into them through the collar.

Mactire pants heavily as the leader of the troops pulls their finger away from the button. “Hmmm will you listen, or do I have to make you listen?” They say with smugness.

Before Mactire can answer, troops run over to them, punching them both in the face hard, knocking them right out and making sure they are out cold. Four troops in total are dragging them out while the others tend to the ones that got hurt in the little altercation.

One trooper walks over to the leader. “Commander Tyson, what shall we do with them? They seem far more aggressive than the others that we brought, but about the same as those we’ve hired before,” he asks formally.

Commander Tyson slowly takes off his helmet. His skin is very pale, almost albino white, he is completely bald on the top of his head. His eyes are a cold steel grey. He has burn marks on the left side of his face.

“They seemed like they would be a good use to us. We will bring them to the holding chamber and tell them if they want to be free again they will do as we say. If they argue, we will exterminate them,” he says with ice in voice.

“Understood sir.” The soldier salutes and runs off making sure that he order is being followed.

Tyson sighs lightly. All his troops are loyal, so why was it he needed to grab outsiders to help fight for his planet from this new threat? This was something that had been troubling him for a while, but he knew that orders were orders and they were never meant to be disobeyed. That was how he felt even when it didn’t sit right in his gut.

Mactire groaned deeply, slowly waking up. This was the second time in as many hours that he could remember being knocked unconscious. He remembered many times when Sangunius, his Master upon entering Clan Naga Sadow had put him through his paces and tired him out.

Mactire was currently strapped to a chair with a metal table in front of him. The walls were flat and made with durasteel, possibly lined with other metals that made it impossible for others to know what was going in the room. This was an interrogation room - one where they relied on physical pain rather than using machines to torture their prisoners.

The hiss of a door opening behind him made Mactire turn his head and try to see who was coming into the room.

Commander Tyson stood in the door, knowing that this was a blind spot for most prisoners, but he also had a datapad with all of Mactire’s information on it. This gave him an edge, knowing that Mactire wasn’t your normal type of prisoner.

Mactire sighed heavily in an empty attempt to see who was behind him. But knowing that he didn’t hear the door close behind made him more curious as to who was there and what they wanted.

“Alright I’ll talk. If you want a confession I’ll give you one.” Mactire said slyly.

“Oh, and why would we need a confession? You’ve done no crime that we know of as of yet. Also we know who you are, Mactire of Naga Sadow.” Tyson said very calmly.

“Well then I guess you got me then didn’t you?” Mactire said, trying to figure out just who these people were and what they wanted.

“Oh? Did we really catch you by chance? Or did you just happen to be expendable enough from your little Clan to be given to us?” Tyson said with amusement in his voice, as he walked slowly to the table coming into view.

Placing the seed of doubt in someone’s mind always made it easier to get them to do what you want, even if they were Force users. It made them always doubt where their true loyalties lied and who - if anyone - they ever really trusted.

Mactire glared at Tyson with a mix of anger and pleasure. The look was almost tranquil if not for the rage that Tyson could feel emanating from his captive. This human was truly a danger amongst their midst. He was probably more dangerous than most of the troops that he commanded over the years.

“Well aren’t you a sight for sore eyes, or is it that you’re making my eyes sore? I can never really tell with looks like yours, baldy.” Mactire says mockingly, trying to get a rise out of Tyson.

“So I take it you’re the one sent here to either interrogate - me in which case I want an advocate - or you’re here to beat something outta me in which case I have to say, you ain’t my type.” Mactire smirks, looking into the cold eyes of Tyson.

Tyson looks back and smirks wickedly. “Oh? Well you’re not from this sector so an advocate won’t even take your case. As for beating you well, you slipped and fell while leaning over the table from your chair.”

Tyson grabs Mactire buy the hair, clenching it tightly in his grasp. Forcing his head against the cold metal table a few times.

“There now, are you ready to listen?” Tyson asks with pleasure.

Mactire spits off to the side as some blood comes up. This person with him is serious, and he can tell that he wants to get this over with quickly.

“Alright, since you hit like a girl and know my name, might as well get this over with,” Mactire says sarcastically.

Tyson sighs heavily. “I am commander Tyson of the Yaris. We are a simple militant group in this sector. You have been volunteered to help us reclaim one of our cities on the planet Tarthos. If you refuse, you will die. Those are the orders I’ve received. I know your history, you’re a person who cares about life, despite having to kill… You’re one of the kind of people we need for this.” He says with sincerity in his voice.

“Man, why did you have to play that good guy crap card? Didn’t you read my record? I’m the former leader of a squad that was my family. It got destroyed, give me one good reason why I should care about orders from I don’t know who, for I don’t care what. From a planet that should have enough security on there to handle anything thrown at it,” Mactire says with slight rage in his voice.

Tyson struck a nerve. Mactire did always try to help the innocent, defenseless people, but he wasn’t above killing anyone or anything that deserved it. Not unless it could be helped. But that wasn’t him anymore. With the loss of his squad after a major Clan feud he needed more time to lick his wounds and come back stronger. If possible, or just get lost in the systems and find someplace to stay.

Tyson kept a straight face, trying to read Mactire. Though his prisoner was still chained up and had a suppression collar on, he still seemed to unnerve the veteran. It was as if this person had seen and lost more than his file indicated. He glanced at the data pad again and smirked, looking up at Mactire. This, he thought, will get him to help.

“Lt. Mactire, discharged from the Corellian Security Force, SWAT unit, specialized in close combat, infiltration and retrieval. Covert Ops? Hmmm now why would it say discharged but not list the reason? Unless it had something to do with the death of your entire squad?” Tyson says calmly and cautiously knowing this could blow up in his face.

Mactire looks up and glares at Tyson with intense hatred. “I see you got my full file. Intel I got was botched, everyone but me died. I won’t lie about that. Reason for discharge is need to know only. Meaning I know and you will never ever find out. So unless you plan on killing me I do suggest you let me go before the rest of Naga Sadow finds out that I didn’t arrive where I was supposed to,” he says with the tone of a higher ranking officer.

Tyson gulps slightly. Mactire’s tone and demeanor seem to have unnerved him. He wasn’t counting on this, but then again he had one more card to play.

“You were ordered to be here and help. By these means or worse,” Tyson says with affirmation in his voice.

Tyson slowly turned the data pad around for Mactire to see where and who gave him the orders. This was his chance to try to catch Mactire off guard and hopefully make him more compliant for the task at hand.

“Do you recognize this symbol? It’s from Naga Sadow. Only high ranking members use it. Thus someone betrayed you and I can guide you to them, If you help me first. Deal or no deal?”

Mactire lets out a low growl while looking at the symbol on the data pad. It was the insignia of Shar Dakhan. This was a devastating blow to Mactire’s pride. He had always been a loyal soldier to his House and his Clan and now this was in front of him: Proof that someone was trying to eliminate him.

Mactire looks up slowly at Tyson, letting his eyes stare him down, hoping that there was more information.There was always something more that most people wanted. Mactire only had to play along for a while or possible for the whole show in order to find out what was really going on.

“We have a deal on two conditions. One I don’t have to wear this collar,” Mactire says smugly.

“Alright, and the second condition?” Tyson asks heavy concern in his voice.

“You don’t ask questions on how or why I got the job done the way that I do, just accept it.” Mactire says showing pure bravado in his face.

“Fair enough.” Tyson says grabbing a key from his belt.

“I take you for a man of honor, so please don’t betray me or you will be gutted like a simple animal and you won’t see freedom ever again,” Tyson says, slowly undoing the chains and the collar from Mactire’s neck.

Mactire slowly stands up, lightly stretching as the chains and collar slowly fell to the ground. While lightly rubbing the back of his neck, he turns to face Tyson and smirks lightly.

“So where is the locker room with my gear? And when do we get this little party of your started?” Mactire asksa

Tyson lets out a small chuckle and walks to the door, motioning for Mactire to follow him.

The door hisses open and they walk through it, Mactire following behind Tyson, slowly eyeing everything. Knowledge of this situation would help him in the long run, but also keeps his mind off of the vengeance that slowly boiled in his blood.

Tyson nods to his fellow soldiers as he guides Mactire to the hanger bay. They slowly moved to the side or just jumped into the first open room getting out of sight. The fight that had broke out earlier was well known by now, and none wants a repeat. This makes the Commander smile lightly, it gives him a reason now to up training drills for his people and push them beyond their limits. But the first thing he has to do is re secure his city and for that he needs weapons that are expendable in his eyes and in those that gave them to him.

A female Twi’lek runs down the hallway towards them. She is wearing a black uniform with a white lab coat over it. Her eyes are jade green, a contrast to her red skin, with purple tattoos on her lekku. She has a stern look on her face that remindes Mactire of Tasha’Vel when she is pissed off at anyone in the Clan. He only hopes that she isn’t as gabby as Tasha’Vel is with a camera.

“Commander, we need to talk about this operation. As medical officer I believe it is my duty to inform you that the risks for life on this are unacceptable and we have no knowledge of what we are truly facing on the planet’s surface,” she said with command and rage in her voice.

Tyson sighs heavily, noting that this is the worst time for this conversation.

“Dr. Al’Ciallmhar we have not one but two volunteers who are willing to help us out in this situation right now. In fact, here is one behind me right now. May I introduce you to Mactire,” he says stepping off to the side.

“Doc. Pleasure to meet you. When do I get my physical?” Mactire says, slowly extending his hand.

“Humans, always interested in sex and nothing more. Why do I put up with your species? Since you’re going down to the planet I’ll take back my objections,” she says sternly, turning around and marching away.

Mactire watches her leave and whistles low and lightly. “Well, she’s a bomb about to blow isn’t she?”

Tyson laughs lightly, shaking his head, continuing down the hallway to the turbo lifts. “Son you have know idea. She’s brilliant, but when she’s angry, I wouldn’t even get in her way.”

Mactire smirks lightly, catching one final glimpse of her before she vanishes into the turbolift.

“Well at least I thrive on rejection, well rejection and coffee.”

Tyson lets out a loud laugh, startling his troops as they enter the turbolift. He pushes the button for the hanger bay, still laughing lightly.

Mactire smirks lightly. If things go wrong, he thought, at least this moment will be a good one.