Deep, swirling orange. The gaze one saw when their time was at an end. Briefly, at the moment when the light was snuffed the orange became perforated with spots of red. The man who was a remnant of old Imperialistic ideals stared helplessly into the crimson abyss that was Kul’tak’s gaze. The soldier fell slowly as his legs lost their support, his lifeless body sporting a seared hole through his center. The Zabrak’s hand clenched in annoyance.

*This is mere slaughter work. Where's the challenge in that? This will make my team’s skill remain stagnant.*

The enemy’s frontline of defense included a fortified trench line that prevented a direct approach through the Capis jungle. Kul would have to lead his Battleteam and punch through to open the way for a full breach. As with the current skirmish, the Disciples had been testing along the line to find a weak spot. Scouts and riflemen squads patrolled the loose jungle before the defensive chain of trenches beyond. It was only a matter of time. There could only be so many solid chains before the stress caused a crack.

The Overseer was heading the assault, bearing his new di Plagia title. Before the initial push he had pulled the Quaestors and the team leaders aside to give them their orders. He had taken to his new connection with the clan very well, his presence and bearing reflecting the determination to prove he was worthy of the title.

He had remained calm, a mask to cover the anger residing within. It was understandable; all of Plagueis should be feeling the same way.

“The battleteams shall breach the trench line in two locations to maximize our approach vectors. Drol. Taasii. Your mission is critical. We can not waste time diverting around, so we must go through. But being forced into a stalemate will allow our enemy time to further solidify their defenses, something that cannot happen. Breach the line, by whatever means you deem fit. The Dread Lord wants these imperials to rue their decision to make Plagueis an enemy.”

Both team leaders, the Zabrak and Togruta, nodded their heads in affirmation. Dracaryis turned his attention to the Aediles.

“Malice, your master has requested your presence with her. I will provide support here in your stead while you attend her. As for you, Laren, I have a special task more suited to your talents. Walk with me.”

Kul had been curious, but he had turned dutifully and led his team to its position.

Now, with bodies piling up and no breach yet, he was getting anxious. He'd have to get a little creative to speed things up. As he passed by his battleteam, he flicked a clawed hand at one of the younger journeymen.

“Ral, you're with me. We're going to open a path for the rest. I hope you've been training with your cloak.”

The Aleena looked puzzled at first (Kul couldn't be absolutely sure due to the beak) but fell into loping steps beside the Zabrak. His beak clicked together in earnest.

The rest of the team gave sidelong glances and a questioning silence reminded Kul that he wasn't finished yet. He turned sharply and alighted his orange eyes upon his unspoken second, Vanessa Rhode.

“When the time comes, move in.”

She threw a salute, arm to chest.

“Yes, Commander. Will there be a sign?”

Kul gave her a crooked grin and waved a hand as he marched on.

“You'll know.”

A few minutes later, Kul and Oric found themselves watching the imperials patrolling a bare patch of the defensive line. A few laser batteries sat on vigil, their turrets swiveling at a slow, constant pace. Kul nudged the Aleena, knowing his sharper eyes would better suited.

“Can you see a way in?”

The avian beak clacked together with each syllable.

“The turrets are in the way, but if we can time our approach just right we can slip in while out of their noticing.”

Kul nodded his head.

“Good. You're learning. Now when is the right time?”

The pupils in the Aleena’s eyes dilated and contracted as he probed the trench. His gaze snapped from soldiers to turrets, to a crosswalk used by the soldiers to get from one side to the other. After a moment of this, he made a clicking noise, which Kul had come to discover was a way his race declared success.

“When the guard heading this way makes his turn to head back the turrets do the same from the opposite side. They meet in the middle and continue. So there's a brief moment when they have blind spots at their peripheral.”

Oric glanced at his leader to confirm his assumption. The Zabrak remained stone-faced. He was focusing on the turrets and imperial, as well. Oric realized he already known and couldn't help but feel patronized. He was about to say something when Kul spoke first.

“When I say go, cloak and head for that spot. We’ll meet up on the other side of that rise,” he ordered indicating his target with an extended finger.

They waited then. As the guard approached his turn, both Shadows felt their adrenaline begin to surge as the anticipation got to them. For Kul, a small bit of trepidation was also present.

They bunched, muscles coiled for their burst into action, as the guard approached the center of his march. When the moment finally arrived, the Shadows exploded into a sprint while shrouding their bodies in cloaks powered through the Force. The only sign of their presence was the wind they cut and the leaves disturbed by the crashes of their feet.

Due to Kul’s experience and physical advantage, he made it across first. He leapt gracefully, utilizing his powerful legs, and placed a hand on the westernmost turret before continuing on. A minuscule beeping could be heard by Oric as he followed behind.

Further in the jungle, Oric breached the rise and sniffed the air. Detecting Kul’s scent, he dropped his cloak. Soon after a hard substance smacked across the back of his head. He recoiled, spinning with saber in hand. The Zabrak declined before him, a fist raised.

“Rule number 26 of being an efficient Shadow, Ral. When cloaked and in the presence of others, be sure they're an ally. You'd have been dead had I been the enemy just then. We move on though.”

Kul's gaze shifted and Oric realized they had come upon a building, a large durasteel complex. A possible HQ? The Zabrak’s hand fell to his Plagueis crest he wore on his armor and began to trace it slowly, but unconsciously. Ral pushed the sight aside mentally as a sign of anxiety of the coming fight. But he heard Kul whisper with his strong Aleenian ears and couldn't help but wonder.

“I hadn't realized it was this close…”

The Zabrak turned to his avian counterpart.

“This is where we part ways, Ral.” Seeing Oric’s confused expression, he raised a gauntlet.

“I needed you to come so someone could lead the rest of the team back here. I know you can sneak back since we made it this far. Rendezvous with Rhode and lead them here.”

He tossed a small black box to the Aleenian. Looking closely, Ral realized it was a detonator.

“I left a surprise on the turret you'll run into first when you get back. Use that and it won't be a problem anymore. Curtesy of Acquisitions. I'm counting on the team, Ral. Break through. For Plagueis.”

With a salute Kul cloaked again, heading in the direction of the small complex. Oric tossed the detonator once. He turned to go, his mind was full of questions. He shook them off to concentrate and cloaked himself before heading back.

Inside the complex, Kul removed his durasteel claws from the throat of the first security guard barring his way. The second watched in horror as his companion was gored by a suddenly appearing beast. It's orange eyes thirsted with an incredible bloodlust, and they were focused on him now. He tried to scream for help but as he did he saw his vocal chords splattered on the wall beside him. Kul walked through the door slinging blood from his gauntlet.

Inside officers and troopers armed themselves, but halted when the man in the center raised his hand.

“Is your lust sated, Drol?”

The Zabrak shrugged his shoulders.

“Keeping up appearances.”

*Forgive me, Master. What I do, I do for Plagueis*

“Deep, swirling orange. The gaze one saw when their time was at an end. Briefly, at the moment when the light was snuffed the orange became perforated with spots of red. The man who was a remnant of old Imperialistic ideals stared helplessly into the crimson abyss that was Kul’tak’s gaze. The soldier fell slowly as his legs lost their support, his lifeless body sporting a seared hole through his center. The Zabrak’s hand clenched in annoyance.

*This is mere slaughter work. Where's the challenge in that? This will make my team’s skill remain stagnant.*

The enemy’s frontline of defense included a fortified trench line that prevented a direct approach through the Capis jungle. Kul would have to lead his Battleteam and punch through to open the way for a full breach. As with the current skirmish, the Disciples had been testing along the line to find a weak spot. Scouts and riflemen squads patrolled the loose jungle before the defensive chain of trenches beyond. It was only a matter of time. There could only be so many solid chains before the stress caused a crack.

The Overseer was heading the assault, bearing his new di Plagia title. Before the initial push he had pulled the Quaestors and the team leaders aside to give them their orders. He had taken to his new connection with the clan very well, his presence and bearing reflecting the determination to prove he was worthy of the title.

He had remained calm, a mask to cover the anger residing within. It was understandable; all of Plagueis should be feeling the same way.

“The battleteams shall breach the trench line in two locations to maximize our approach vectors. Drol. Taasii. Your mission is critical. We can not waste time diverting around, so we must go through. But being forced into a stalemate will allow our enemy time to further solidify their defenses, something that cannot happen. Breach the line, by whatever means you deem fit. The Dread Lord wants these imperials to rue their decision to make Plagueis an enemy.”

Both team leaders, the Zabrak and Togruta, nodded their heads in affirmation. Dracaryis turned his attention to the Aediles.

“Malice, your master has requested your presence with her. I will provide support here in your stead while you attend her. As for you, Laren, I have a special task more suited to your talents. Walk with me.”

Kul had been curious, but he had turned dutifully and led his team to its position.

Now, with bodies piling up and no breach yet, he was getting anxious. He'd have to get a little creative to speed things up. As he passed by his battleteam, he flicked a clawed hand at one of the younger journeymen.

“Ral, you're with me. We're going to open a path for the rest. I hope you've been training with your cloak.”

The Aleena looked puzzled at first (Kul couldn't be absolutely sure due to the beak) but fell into loping steps beside the Zabrak. His beak clicked together in earnest.

The rest of the team gave sidelong glances and a questioning silence reminded Kul that he wasn't finished yet. He turned sharply and alighted his orange eyes upon his unspoken second, Vanessa Rhode.

“When the time comes, move in.”

She threw a salute, arm to chest.

“Yes, Commander. Will there be a sign?”

Kul gave her a crooked grin and waved a hand as he marched on.

“You'll know.”

A few minutes later, Kul and Oric found themselves watching the imperials patrolling a bare patch of the defensive line. A few laser batteries sat on vigil, their turrets swiveling at a slow, constant pace. Kul nudged the Aleena, knowing his sharper eyes would better suited.

“Can you see a way in?”

The avian beak clacked together with each syllable.

“The turrets are in the way, but if we can time our approach just right we can slip in while out of their noticing.”

Kul nodded his head.

“Good. You're learning. Now when is the right time?”

The pupils in the Aleena’s eyes dilated and contracted as he probed the trench. His gaze snapped from soldiers to turrets, to a crosswalk used by the soldiers to get from one side to the other. After a moment of this, he made a clicking noise, which Kul had come to discover was a way his race declared success.

“When the guard heading this way makes his turn to head back the turrets do the same from the opposite side. They meet in the middle and continue. So there's a brief moment when they have blind spots at their peripheral.”

Oric glanced at his leader to confirm his assumption. The Zabrak remained stone-faced. He was focusing on the turrets and imperial, as well. Oric realized he already known and couldn't help but feel patronized. He was about to say something when Kul spoke first.

“When I say go, cloak and head for that spot. We’ll meet up on the other side of that rise,” he ordered indicating his target with an extended finger.

They waited then. As the guard approached his turn, both Shadows felt their adrenaline begin to surge as the anticipation got to them. For Kul, a small bit of trepidation was also present.

They bunched, muscles coiled for their burst into action, as the guard approached the center of his march. When the moment finally arrived, the Shadows exploded into a sprint while shrouding their bodies in cloaks powered through the Force. The only sign of their presence was the wind they cut and the leaves disturbed by the crashes of their feet.

Due to Kul’s experience and physical advantage, he made it across first. He leapt gracefully, utilizing his powerful legs, and placed a hand on the westernmost turret before continuing on. A minuscule beeping could be heard by Oric as he followed behind.

Further in the jungle, Oric breached the rise and sniffed the air. Detecting Kul’s scent, he dropped his cloak. Soon after a hard substance smacked across the back of his head. He recoiled, spinning with saber in hand. The Zabrak declined before him, a fist raised.

“Rule number 26 of being an efficient Shadow, Ral. When cloaked and in the presence of others, be sure they're an ally. You'd have been dead had I been the enemy just then. We move on though.”

Kul's gaze shifted and Oric realized they had come upon a building, a large durasteel complex. A possible HQ? The Zabrak’s hand fell to his Plagueis crest he wore on his armor and began to trace it slowly, but unconsciously. Ral pushed the sight aside mentally as a sign of anxiety of the coming fight. But he heard Kul whisper with his strong Aleenian ears and couldn't help but wonder.

“I hadn't realized it was this close…”

The Zabrak turned to his avian counterpart.

“This is where we part ways, Ral.” Seeing Oric’s confused expression, he raised a gauntlet.

“I needed you to come so someone could lead the rest of the team back here. I know you can sneak back since we made it this far. Rendezvous with Rhode and lead them here.”

He tossed a small black box to the Aleenian. Looking closely, Ral realized it was a detonator.

“I left a surprise on the turret you'll run into first when you get back. Use that and it won't be a problem anymore. Curtesy of Acquisitions. I'm counting on the team, Ral. Break through. For Plagueis.”

With a salute Kul cloaked again, heading in the direction of the small complex. Oric tossed the detonator once. He turned to go, his mind was full of questions. He shook them off to concentrate and cloaked himself before heading back.

Inside the complex, Kul removed his durasteel claws from the throat of the first security guard barring his way. The second watched in horror as his companion was gored by a suddenly appearing beast. It's orange eyes thirsted with an incredible bloodlust, and they were focused on him now. He tried to scream for help but as he did he saw his vocal chords splattered on the wall beside him. Kul walked through the door slinging blood from his gauntlet.

Inside officers and troopers armed themselves, but halted when the man in the center raised his hand.

The Zabrak shrugged his shoulders.

“Keeping up appearances.”

*Forgive me, Master. What I do, I do for Plaguies.*

“Are you ready, Inquisitor? Know that you cannot go back now.”

“I am prepared for what I must do. Lorne.”