Interrogation of Wuntila Arconae
Interrogator: Scion Tarentae

The subject was brought to Castle Tarentum in chains by a team of Arcona’s elite guardsmen. The “Blue Beast” held his head low and showed signs of emotional distress and complacency from the moment he arrived. We brought him to the black cells in the lowest level of the Castle and left him in chains without light, food, or water for three days. We played static at levels that would deafen a typical human the entire time, and we stationed a Foxtrot Uniform in the cell at all times to suppress the subject’s connection to the Force. After three days Samael and I went inside.

Samael spent hours flaying the blue skin from our subject’s body, and draining his blood into buckets. We added an anticoagulant to the buckets, and on the fourth day I began the interrogation. We placed a cloth sack over the subject’s face as we questioned him. When he gave unsatisfactory answers we poured blood from the buckets over his face to give him an incentive to rethink his position.

He had been working with Telona against Darth Pravus. They had participated in twenty operations together. Prior to this operation he had been contacted by the Iron Throne’s agent, Val Cole. The offer would have tempted me too: in exchange for stopping Telona the Inquisitorious would cease all investigations into undesirables in Arcona.

Concluding our interrogation, we left the room and let Hades take over.

There he sat. Bruised, battered, broken. The body of the Dragon of Selen, mangled beyond belief. Tarentum had not been kind to him for his insolent betrayal and they were not showing any signs of mercy yet. Someone had to, though.

Five Arconans walked through the door, a detachment from the *Nighthawk* led by Mateus as he cradled a blaster – mostly for show, truth told. So did the rest of them. The blue man’s jailor’s surrounded him, whips and batons in their hands. Both parties stopped, stared – it was just a regular old showdown now.

“Out, out!” shouted Mateus as they rushed to the barely-conscious Wuntila’s side. “This man needs medical attention.”
“And who the frell are you?”asked the nameless, faceless Tarenti.

“The medic. Leave.”

As Mateus began weaving the Force to fix what ailed the Wroonian whilst the Tarenti left, Ood looked to his long-time friend and companion. “Wuntila, you had best stop doing this to us one day, my friend,” mentioned the Neti. “You need to talk to us. They’re gone.”

“Pravus... made me an offer,”choked back the broken Consul emeritus, spitting up a mouthful of blood. “Save the Clan. Buy us time.”

Mateus shook his head. He was barely functional. “Get him back to the *Nighthawk*. Failing that, we bust him out.”

“I’ll talk to the Shadow Lady. Look after him, Kelborn.” Ood left only a moment later.

A nod from the medic, and the Arconans set to work. That was enough info. A spark of hope.

An enemy made
A friend has come to aid us
Together we stand

We move for vengeance
We keep stalking our pray
Together we hunt

With caution we move
With anger but also with fear
Together we stand

Behold, I, Shadesworn.
Senses forced to betray you.
As your death is born.

The beat hastens now.
Faster, we sprint to our goal
fearless to the end

Ooh I smell their sweat,
Taste and hear their pumping blood.
Teeth long to bite deep!

Staring through the scope
Waiting for the right time to strike
Hidden, I will watch