#kannik

Lord Amellar Kannik

What does he want? To prove his dominance by destroying the distant, emotionless Kerem Kennev - and take his prize by having Geviana Tolan kneel before him.

Why can't he have it? Kerem is crafty, Geviana is stubborn, and both of them are plucky and have that heroic spirit that lets them slip through his grasp. The fact that the Empire is losing the war in a hurry is also keeping resources from being put toward his efforts.

Captain Heskan Asanov of the Executive Decision

What does he want? A nice, cushy, traditional smuggling gig where you can shoot at Republic or planetary police and miss on purpose, rather than Imperials that would rather see you dead.

Why can't he have it? The war, and that horrid voice in the back of his head that keeps leading to him sticking around and strafing Imperials, or running guns to guerrilla resistances.

Rykagar, Mercenary

What does he want? A better ship, for one. After that, enough money to have himself a modest little villa with a modest little harem.

Why can't he have it? The Empire's not the greatest place to garner respect as a non-human - especially when charisma isn't one's strong suit, and especially when you don't care for all the tribalistic nonsense of the Mandalorians.

Fifty meters away from the Jedi, the Sith and his apprentice stood atop a somewhat sturdy pile of debris.

“Kerem Kennev,” the Sith called out. Kerem did not react.

“You’re outnumbered,” the Sith added, helpfully. He leapt from the top of his hillock of ruined building, landing lightly and walking toward the Jedi. The apprentice did the same, a few meters behind.

“You’re outgunned,” Kerem replied. His saberstaff was lit and at his side, the flicker of the blade the only real motion about him.

“Outgunned?” The Sith chuckled. “There are two of us.”

“Precisely,” Kerem said. “I am one Jedi, and you only brought two Sith.”

The Sith smiled thinly. “Do you recall me?” His prominent red facial tattoo made him hard to forget.

“Nar Shaddaa,” the Jedi replied.

“Ahh, yes. Your firebrand and pet soldier aren’t here today, though, Kerem Kennev.” The lead Sith pulled two lightsabers from his belt, igniting both. His apprentice grinned, stretching her arms out and thrusting them forward, lightning arcing from her fingers as her master leapt at the Jedi.

  One hundred and thirty-seven seconds later, two of those fingers had been broken, smashed between the ground and a piece of ferrocrete the Jedi had hurled. The pain would fuel her if she dared move, but she didn’t, for the leading edge of the Jedi’s ice blue saber blade was two centimeters from her bare throat. She had crawled up against a sloped piece of fallen cityscape, and the Jedi was standing just out of her reach. His robes had been slashed in several places, armor scored by saber blades a few times as well. Still, he was holding the saberstaff out toward her, but facing away, looking past the rear blade of his weapon toward her master, who stood twenty meters or so out, looking unscathed, if sweating. The air reeked of carbon and sulphur.

“Do you know why we are here, Kerem Kennev?” the Sith asked. The Jedi did not reply. “You’re here because Naveldir Prime here is Lieutenant Ton Tomellian’s homeworld, aren’t you?” the Sith asked. The Jedi’s eyes widened a bit. “Would it surprise you to hear that we are here for the same reason?”

The apprentice, a mirialan, glanced away from the Jedi and toward her master, surprised. He’d been the one that had asked her to research Naveldir Prime, and she’d been the one to find the silenced rumor and hidden evidence of dark side artifacts hidden on the planet from Sith generations before.

“Lord Galnar Vanosh,” the Sith said. “My master. Lured to Agamar. Destroyed by you and your master and your little Corellian redhead. Tell me, is she always as passionate as she was on Nar Shaddaa?”

The Jedi remained silent.

“The three of you destroyed my life,” the Sith said. “And I foolishly thought to take my revenge in that hangar on Nar Shaddaa. But you, you’re valiant, you’re would-be heroes, aren’t you? It would take more than brute force and a handful of soldiers to take you down.”

The Sith began to pace, his stance non-threatening. Kerem kept his saber steady close to the apprentice’s throat.

“So that’s why we’re here today, Kerem Kennev,” the Sith said. “Because I’m going to break you, and your little posse, and strip away your lives as you did mine.”

“Isn’t that a bit petty?” the Jedi finally asked. His expression was slowly rolling toward anger.

“Oh, of course it is!” the Sith replied, almost smiling. “It’s intensely petty, it’s selfish and personal. It’s my hobby, Kerem Kennev. Pondering it pleases me, and imagining you ruined and scattered to ash fills me with delicious rage and glee. You fuel me, Jedi.”

Kerem remained silent.

“I planted the evidence that this nothing of a backwater planet held relics of value to the Sith. I arranged its tactically useless conquest to break your little soldier. I never dreamed I’d actually lure you here, get you within reach.”

“We’ve already had our spar. You can’t defeat me. You try again and you’ll lose an apprentice.”

“A dead rival for a dead apprentice is a trade any Sith would make a thousand times.”

The apprentice’s eyes flit back and forth from her master to the Jedi. The Jedi was still rather motionless, holding position in a ready enough stance. It would not be trouble to slit her throat before bringing his blade up to catch her master’s attacks.

Her master had tensed. His pacing had ended, and she recognized the ending stance as very close to what he normally Force leapt from. He was readying himself.

Back to the Jedi. He was in a combat stance, but there was no flareup of emotion. He was not tensed for the jab he would need to end her before preventing his own death. He was not ready to do what was needed, and this was the man her master needed to kill so badly?

“You won’t kill me,” she cooed at him.

“It’s not my decision,” Kerem said quietly to her. “It’s his. Watch which one he makes.”

The Sith leapt, his right-hand saber sweeping in with an overhand slash. Kerem’s hand came off of his lightsaber’s hilt, a wave of Force energy blasting the apprentice across the landscape. Her eyes were clamped shut, but she heard the clash of lightsaber blades as she bounced across the dirty ground until she rolled off of the lip of a bomb crater and hit the bottom headfirst.

  When she awoke, she was back above, and her master stood over her, his robes and armor still undamaged.

“Welcome back, apprentice.” He did not offer a hand to help her up. “The Jedi fled. You’ll have your opportunity for revenge when we track him down once more,” he added.

She was groggy, and turned her head to take in her surroundings. The Sith began to pace near her, seemingly unconcerned. “It may be for the best. Kerem’s death out of the blue may simply have galvanized Geviana against me. Hmm. I should ensure that I ruin him first. Not for my own enjoyment, but to shatter his resolve, undo his stoic ways. I cannot just defeat him, but I must show the victory, the strength of passion and rage over his cold distance. That symbolic victory will ensure Geviana’s acceptance of our path. Ensure she pledges herself to me as her master.” He didn’t ask for feedback, simply strode around the clearing while she slowly sat up and regained her composure.

As she pulled herself to her feet, something exploded about a kilometer away, in another part of Naveldir Prime’s capital. The Sith turned to admire the plumes of smoke, the flashes of fire in the distance. “Remember today. Remember what our actions have wrought. Remember what our decisiveness has achieved, my student,” he said.