Post by Gabe© on Jul 26, 2007 2:22:12 GMT -5
"All hail His Imperial Majesty, Caine Starwalker!"
------------------------
Shadows lengthened through the halls of the Imperial Palace on Coruscant. With those shadows, something else loomed. At once impressed and disgusted by the show of glory that was the New Galactic Empire, the moving shadow of a man slipped through the halls, his senses stretching to their limits. The elite guards, wearing the black and silver of House Starwalker, were completely unaware that a living shadow moved amongst them. The senses of mortal men were pitiful before the skill of the creature that hunted the halls of Imperial Palace.
The hunger for blood filled the monster that had once been called Wedge Antilles. His eyes, had he allowed them to, would have shone the blood red of a hungering Child of Amon, spawn of an ancient and powerful Sith Wizard. He held that hunger, though. He eldest of his clan, two men of godlike skill, had requested he meet Emperor Starwalker and judge his skill as the overt master of the galaxy. Wedge himself, who regarded this with amusement mixed with irritation, figure he would simply try to kill Starwalker. He had resisted taking the blood of mortals just long enough to allow his hunger to flare without dimming his out not inconsiderable skills. The eldest of the Children had respected Caine Starwalker's fallen father, Lord Cole Starwalker, but believed Caine to be an unknown variable in a galaxy they wanted to be largely revealed to them.
Now was the time. The sun vanished behind distant skyscrapers, drawing the last direct light from the halls of the palace. Thick transparisteel, strong enough to resist the blast of a thermal detonator, shimmered red and orange as the sun set. The light was an enemy to the Children of Amon, a consequence of the darkside energies that fueled their undead forms. New strength filled Wedge's limbs as his confident smirk flickered across pale lips. He slid into one last alcove before the wide doors that marked the Emperor's throne room. Two creatures, Yuuzhan Vong by the look of them, stood guard, their eyes staring off into space with absolutely no show of discomfort. Wedge was impressed. The newest Emperor had picked his men well.
While he wasn't as fast or as strong as his elders, Wedge had both in sufficient supply for simple warriors. He drew upon the blood in his dead veins, forcing it to link him with the energy well that was called "The Force." He seemed to blur as his body sped up, his senses sharpening to utterly inhuman levels. He could see the blood moving beneath the skin of the two guards. He could see where individual colors fractured into a dozen, a hundred, different colors. Had any of his kin wanted to be an artist, they would have been the best there was. He pushed the thought away as his mind's fountain of psychic energy flared, channeling power into the two guards. Let them stand there like the puppets they were. Let them guard the door to a dead man's throne.
Wedge pulled one of the doors open, slipping through it into the darkness within. He was immediately surprised by the chill in the air, even if it didn't bother him. The smell of ice was in the are, both refreshing and unnerving. He had sent living men as spies, all of whom had said the throneroom was kept at a pleasant and warm temperature at all times. What had happened? He sent his predator sense out, seeking the heartsblood of the man he was going to try to murder. He licked his teeth as his canines slowly extended. He was going to savor the blood of a Sith Lord. There. A young, strong heart was thumping at an observation port.
Caine Starwalker seemed very young, his shoulders still not the broad and imposing breadth of his father's. He seemed untainted as well, not given to the aura of darkness that Cole Starwalker had when he wasn't manipulating everyone around him. Black hair which fell to his shoulder framed a face that looked out behind an invisible energy shield that protected him from assassination attempts. He wore the silver and black of House Starwalker, even going so far as wearing the emblem of Lord of House Starwalker as a pin on his lapel. He appeared deep in though, his unmarked and uncovered hands wrapped around a railing meant for that express purpose.
Who would have thought this unassuming boy controlled the galaxy in a grip even tighter than his father's, let along Palpatine, who had died decades before? Certainly not Wedge Antilles, who neared the boy. Caine had been a sore subject for his father, being the seeker of knowledge and peruser of ancient tombs instead of one the warrior-lords that the Starwalker's had been since pure Sith blood had flowed through their blood millennia in the past. It was ironic, and perhaps poetic justice that Cole Starwalker should surpass his father. Peace and order over fear and might. Wedge found himself in just a deep of thought as Caine Starwalker appeared. His body was well trained though. He moved with the stealth of a Defel in the midst of a cave on a world orbiting a star that gave off no light.
"It seems to me," Caine spoke out suddenly. "That I am destined to follow the mandate of House Starwalker. Cursed to fight battle after battle. How sad," Caine said softly. "How sad indeed."
Wedge paused. Had the boy been speaking with him? Or was he musing? He shook his head and began to advance again, flickers of the Force actually snuffing all sound from around him. He did allow his eyes to glow though. It was no fun not giving the slighest chance to a foe who's back was turned to you, after all. He smiled, feeling a growl, almost too low to register to the hearing of most humanoids, erupt from his lips. The Force aura around him swallowed the sound though, so only his own ears heard it.
A hand reached out and settled upon Emperor Starwalker's young shoulder.
"Surprise," Wedge whispered as he pulled the young man around with the look of glowing red hunger in his eyes.
Caine turned, smiling as he did so. His skin shifted from white to red, revealing a heritage that was extraordinary, to say the least. Fleshy appendages hung from his cheeks, granting Wedge a surprising revelation. Caine Starwalker possessed Sith blood in sufficient supply to bring that extinct race's physical features back. "All is not as it seems," he whispered. "Let us talk, assassin. I have no wish to end your life."
Wedge was speechless. He didn't know whether to laugh or to just shake his head in silence. He simply let his hand drop away to the blaster pistol he wore on his right hip. He drew the weapon, pointing it to Caine's forehead.
"I am the Sith'ari." Caine said simply. "Do you believe that my life would end at the hands of someone like you, assassin?" The words were spoken with complete sincerity. It was said that Caine's father's advisors, all of whom were Sith, had prophesized that Caine would bring the galaxy together under the banner of the Sith. There was no arrogance in those words, only the deepest conviction.
Wedge said nothing. The Children of Amon held a primal hatred of the Sith, if that was what Caine Starwalker was. "I do, Angel of the Sith," Wedge whispered just before he squeezed the trigger with a smile of angered amusement.
Nothing happened.
That was, until Wedge realized that the boy before him was upset that there would be no civilized conversation between assassin and target.
"A pity," Caine said as he shook his head. "No one wishes to simply talk."
Wedge's eyes widened as he felt an invisible fist slam into his chest, launching him backwards. He grunted as he clipped a pillar, ripping a chunk of the basalt away. Already, the cold wetness of undead blood could be felt running down his back. He hadn't been prepared for an attack of such brute strength. He hadn't thickened his skin to resist such power. He was already drawing strength to do so when he was jolted to a complete stop, only to rise smoothly until he was centimeters from the ceiling.
"You are a spawn of the Sith," Caine said with surprise. "Perhaps after I show you your folly, creature, you shall become my newest pet. I should like to show you my own creations."
"You arrogant git," Wedge said to the ceiling as if he were talking about the weather. "I'll gut you and rape your skull, boy." Truth was, he was too busy awakening his own power to offer any resistance to the so called "Sith'ari." He'd have to hope Caine was sufficiently unpracticed in battle to allow the time for the lowly "spawn of the Sith" to show his true nature.
"Pity," Caine said, sounding genuinely sad.
Wedge swore as his body blurred downward, crashing into the ground with the force of a light freighter. Needless to say, it hurt a whole fucking lot, even to someone who would survive such a brutal display of skill.
"You're going to fucking regret this," Wedge murmured in his cozy little crater, his body working furiously to repair the damage already dealt and to bring him up to full fighting fitness.
"You fuckin' fuck," he added as he spine popped back into alignment.
------------------------
Shadows lengthened through the halls of the Imperial Palace on Coruscant. With those shadows, something else loomed. At once impressed and disgusted by the show of glory that was the New Galactic Empire, the moving shadow of a man slipped through the halls, his senses stretching to their limits. The elite guards, wearing the black and silver of House Starwalker, were completely unaware that a living shadow moved amongst them. The senses of mortal men were pitiful before the skill of the creature that hunted the halls of Imperial Palace.
The hunger for blood filled the monster that had once been called Wedge Antilles. His eyes, had he allowed them to, would have shone the blood red of a hungering Child of Amon, spawn of an ancient and powerful Sith Wizard. He held that hunger, though. He eldest of his clan, two men of godlike skill, had requested he meet Emperor Starwalker and judge his skill as the overt master of the galaxy. Wedge himself, who regarded this with amusement mixed with irritation, figure he would simply try to kill Starwalker. He had resisted taking the blood of mortals just long enough to allow his hunger to flare without dimming his out not inconsiderable skills. The eldest of the Children had respected Caine Starwalker's fallen father, Lord Cole Starwalker, but believed Caine to be an unknown variable in a galaxy they wanted to be largely revealed to them.
Now was the time. The sun vanished behind distant skyscrapers, drawing the last direct light from the halls of the palace. Thick transparisteel, strong enough to resist the blast of a thermal detonator, shimmered red and orange as the sun set. The light was an enemy to the Children of Amon, a consequence of the darkside energies that fueled their undead forms. New strength filled Wedge's limbs as his confident smirk flickered across pale lips. He slid into one last alcove before the wide doors that marked the Emperor's throne room. Two creatures, Yuuzhan Vong by the look of them, stood guard, their eyes staring off into space with absolutely no show of discomfort. Wedge was impressed. The newest Emperor had picked his men well.
While he wasn't as fast or as strong as his elders, Wedge had both in sufficient supply for simple warriors. He drew upon the blood in his dead veins, forcing it to link him with the energy well that was called "The Force." He seemed to blur as his body sped up, his senses sharpening to utterly inhuman levels. He could see the blood moving beneath the skin of the two guards. He could see where individual colors fractured into a dozen, a hundred, different colors. Had any of his kin wanted to be an artist, they would have been the best there was. He pushed the thought away as his mind's fountain of psychic energy flared, channeling power into the two guards. Let them stand there like the puppets they were. Let them guard the door to a dead man's throne.
Wedge pulled one of the doors open, slipping through it into the darkness within. He was immediately surprised by the chill in the air, even if it didn't bother him. The smell of ice was in the are, both refreshing and unnerving. He had sent living men as spies, all of whom had said the throneroom was kept at a pleasant and warm temperature at all times. What had happened? He sent his predator sense out, seeking the heartsblood of the man he was going to try to murder. He licked his teeth as his canines slowly extended. He was going to savor the blood of a Sith Lord. There. A young, strong heart was thumping at an observation port.
Caine Starwalker seemed very young, his shoulders still not the broad and imposing breadth of his father's. He seemed untainted as well, not given to the aura of darkness that Cole Starwalker had when he wasn't manipulating everyone around him. Black hair which fell to his shoulder framed a face that looked out behind an invisible energy shield that protected him from assassination attempts. He wore the silver and black of House Starwalker, even going so far as wearing the emblem of Lord of House Starwalker as a pin on his lapel. He appeared deep in though, his unmarked and uncovered hands wrapped around a railing meant for that express purpose.
Who would have thought this unassuming boy controlled the galaxy in a grip even tighter than his father's, let along Palpatine, who had died decades before? Certainly not Wedge Antilles, who neared the boy. Caine had been a sore subject for his father, being the seeker of knowledge and peruser of ancient tombs instead of one the warrior-lords that the Starwalker's had been since pure Sith blood had flowed through their blood millennia in the past. It was ironic, and perhaps poetic justice that Cole Starwalker should surpass his father. Peace and order over fear and might. Wedge found himself in just a deep of thought as Caine Starwalker appeared. His body was well trained though. He moved with the stealth of a Defel in the midst of a cave on a world orbiting a star that gave off no light.
"It seems to me," Caine spoke out suddenly. "That I am destined to follow the mandate of House Starwalker. Cursed to fight battle after battle. How sad," Caine said softly. "How sad indeed."
Wedge paused. Had the boy been speaking with him? Or was he musing? He shook his head and began to advance again, flickers of the Force actually snuffing all sound from around him. He did allow his eyes to glow though. It was no fun not giving the slighest chance to a foe who's back was turned to you, after all. He smiled, feeling a growl, almost too low to register to the hearing of most humanoids, erupt from his lips. The Force aura around him swallowed the sound though, so only his own ears heard it.
A hand reached out and settled upon Emperor Starwalker's young shoulder.
"Surprise," Wedge whispered as he pulled the young man around with the look of glowing red hunger in his eyes.
Caine turned, smiling as he did so. His skin shifted from white to red, revealing a heritage that was extraordinary, to say the least. Fleshy appendages hung from his cheeks, granting Wedge a surprising revelation. Caine Starwalker possessed Sith blood in sufficient supply to bring that extinct race's physical features back. "All is not as it seems," he whispered. "Let us talk, assassin. I have no wish to end your life."
Wedge was speechless. He didn't know whether to laugh or to just shake his head in silence. He simply let his hand drop away to the blaster pistol he wore on his right hip. He drew the weapon, pointing it to Caine's forehead.
"I am the Sith'ari." Caine said simply. "Do you believe that my life would end at the hands of someone like you, assassin?" The words were spoken with complete sincerity. It was said that Caine's father's advisors, all of whom were Sith, had prophesized that Caine would bring the galaxy together under the banner of the Sith. There was no arrogance in those words, only the deepest conviction.
Wedge said nothing. The Children of Amon held a primal hatred of the Sith, if that was what Caine Starwalker was. "I do, Angel of the Sith," Wedge whispered just before he squeezed the trigger with a smile of angered amusement.
Nothing happened.
That was, until Wedge realized that the boy before him was upset that there would be no civilized conversation between assassin and target.
"A pity," Caine said as he shook his head. "No one wishes to simply talk."
Wedge's eyes widened as he felt an invisible fist slam into his chest, launching him backwards. He grunted as he clipped a pillar, ripping a chunk of the basalt away. Already, the cold wetness of undead blood could be felt running down his back. He hadn't been prepared for an attack of such brute strength. He hadn't thickened his skin to resist such power. He was already drawing strength to do so when he was jolted to a complete stop, only to rise smoothly until he was centimeters from the ceiling.
"You are a spawn of the Sith," Caine said with surprise. "Perhaps after I show you your folly, creature, you shall become my newest pet. I should like to show you my own creations."
"You arrogant git," Wedge said to the ceiling as if he were talking about the weather. "I'll gut you and rape your skull, boy." Truth was, he was too busy awakening his own power to offer any resistance to the so called "Sith'ari." He'd have to hope Caine was sufficiently unpracticed in battle to allow the time for the lowly "spawn of the Sith" to show his true nature.
"Pity," Caine said, sounding genuinely sad.
Wedge swore as his body blurred downward, crashing into the ground with the force of a light freighter. Needless to say, it hurt a whole fucking lot, even to someone who would survive such a brutal display of skill.
"You're going to fucking regret this," Wedge murmured in his cozy little crater, his body working furiously to repair the damage already dealt and to bring him up to full fighting fitness.
"You fuckin' fuck," he added as he spine popped back into alignment.