Pain is an efficient motivator for one sluggish in rousing from sleep. Or when they've been knocked aside the head.

Stifling a groan (not that he could have with whatever this fabric was in his mouth), Kul blinked his eyes to clear his vision. The room remained black.

*Am I dead? Someone is going to have a really bad day if I am.*

His senses had somewhat fully returned by this time, and the coarse scratching of fabric against his face gave him some comfort. Further testing revealed his arms were also hampered, stun cuffs clasped upon them. He focused his attention upon the Force, directing its energy into the waiting cells of his arms and wrists. Sufficiently suffused, he pulled his hands in opposite directions and strained against the metal clasps with bulging muscles. Unable to withstand the natural power of the Force, the metal easily snapped.

Kul efficiently disposed of the other hindrances, finally clearing his view of his enclosed quarters. A bare room, the air was stale and thick. There was a familiarity to it, though. Like he had been here at one point. Before he could think more on that, his instinct kicked in and he felt the presence of a being behind him. He spun on his toes and adopted a defensive K’thri stance. Though it felt familiar, the place held a sense of doom about it. The face of his watcher was familiar, too. Blank eyes stared at him through the mask of an Inquisitor. Their voice rattled through a modulator the society sometimes utilized for discretion purposes.

“About time you woke up. And I must say I was unimpressed by your little trick just then,” the Inquisitor taunted, while waving a small device in their hand, “Would have been difficult had I not turned off the Force dampener.”

Kul leered at his likely captor. At a quick check, he seemed to have come to no harm during his unconsciousness, and his gear was set aside in a box beside the Inquisitor. The situation still remained furtive in his eyes, regardless of him seeming unscathed.

“Why am I here?”

The Inquisitor tapped a thin finger against their cheek.

“Now why might you be, indeed? It couldn’t possibly have anything to do with Plaguies’ show of defiance against our Grandmaster, surely?”

Kul growled, remaining in stance for the time being.

“Defiance? The Grandmaster struck first, and would have again had Plagueis not shown him it was futile to try and force us down.”

The Inquisitor slammed a fist upon the only piece of furniture in the room, a small durasteel table guarded by a quaint durasteel chair. The Inquisitorius always did have a flair for Feng Shui.

“A foolish gesture! The clans should remember their place in this Brotherhood. The Grandmaster claims the throne, not the Consuls. As an Inquisitor, you should have supported the assault in some way, even if from the shadows. Especially from the shadows.”

Kul wasn’t one to plead, but he did want the agent to understand, if only for the chance it might help him get out of this alive.

“Surely the Grandmaster knows if he rules through fear, it will cause a backlash at some point? Has he learned nothing from the predecessors of the galaxy? The name of Palpatine comes to mind. Strength can be respected as well as feared, and respect lasts longer and doesn’t hide in secret waiting to strike back.”

The Inquisitor stood, and a portion of the wall slid aside to reveal a floating droid covered in the tools of a torturer.

*Ah. There’s that familiar sensation.*

Kul could see no emotion in the Inquisitor’s stance, merely an acceptance of their position and duty. Even their synthesized voice (much like the modulator he had used at times) possessed a complete lack of empathy.

“I will choose to ignore those blasphemous words, Inquisitor, as I can only assume that Plagueis has brainwashed you for such defiance against your masters. But don’t worry...I’m here with a cure.”

The Inquisitor approached, the droid on his heels.

*No. I will not allow such a thing again.*

Roaring his defiance, Kul launched himself at the Inquisitor, who dropped into a Core stance of their own. But unlike Kul, the Inquisitor had cut themself off from companionship and connections of loyalty and affection, and this gave them a lack of willpower that Kul often utilized. His eyes blazed red with fury as he rained blows upon the Inquisitor. The droid lasted only the time it took to rear back and swing.

The Inquisitorius still speaks of the day when a rogue agent turned into the embodiment of a Krayt Draigon, tearing its way out of captivity and into the sunlight.