Darkblade growled as he read the message. Internal fighting. Vexatus and Marcus traitors. Any who oppose Locke are to be brought to justice. So it had come down to this. After a relative time of peace the Dark Jedi once again squabbled with each other over power. Sighing, he stood up from his desk at the Shadow Academy and grabbed his robes to head out towards the shuttle he had for personal use. He already knew who he was going to apprehend first. As he boarded his shuttle, the Anzat felt a surge of excitement come across him. His first real battle would test his skills and limits he had worked so hard to hone these last 16 months. Smiling to himself he relished in the idea of testing against his one true rival.
The Anzat stepped off the transport, and watched it fly off again to its next destination, bringing the troops to the front. Darkblade would have liked to join them, but his mission took him elsewhere. Stalking through the streets of Nar Shadaa the Seeker easily found his target. Leaving an easy to find trail the Anzat was able to find Bentre with ease to a local bar. As he stepped inside, the people crowd inside turned to a hush as they watched the Knight approach the Human at the bar. Darkblade grabbed Bentre by the neck and pulled him up. A stream of vomit erupted from the Devil’s Shroud BTL, soaking the Anzat’s robes. Disappointed at the current state of his opponent the Anzat thought quickly to minimize attention to himself.
Sighing, Darkblade pulled the drunken Human down from his stool and drug him back across the streets to the transport drop spot. As he signaled the transport to pick him up and return him to CNS territory, he couldn’t help but feel pity for the poor soul laying on the ground. He would wake up the next morning with a massive hangover, not realizing where he was and would probably be asking for more beer. Chuckling slightly, Darkblade sank to his knees and grabbed Bentre’s head. “This is for your own good.” He said as he head-butted the Human repeatedly. A pool of blood forming beneath his body, nose broken and teeth smashed to pieces.
The transport landed, with the pilots giving a weird look as Darkblade entered the ramp dragging the limp body of the Human behind him. “He put up a fight, can’t blame him for being hunted down and told he was on the wrong side, right?” As the transport made its way back to Naga Sadow territory he knew Bentre would never remember this. Although he probably saved his life, and if the Consul ever found out he had lied to him, things would turn out to be a lot worse than they were now. Patting Bentre on the shoulder, he couldn’t help but feel slightly relieved he didn’t have to fight his friend in a real battle. Whatever the outcome would have been, it wouldn’t have been something Darkblade would have been proud of. Having a friend in the Brotherhood was rare enough as it is, having to fight him would be a betrayal of their friendship. Everyone makes mistakes, let’s forget this one together. Darkblade pulled out a bottle of alcohol, downed it in one go and stood up.
Walking towards the pilot and its crew, he quickly made short work of the two of them as he snapped their necks. Setting the course on autopilot, he disposed of the crew. Giggling slightly as the alcohol reached his brains, he could only imagine Locke’s face as the shuttle crashed into the Temple of Blood. Writing a quick note, he scribbled Tough fight with traitors, stole transport, Bentre and me were caught offguard. Slipping into thepilot seat, no idea what he was doing or how to pilot the blasted thing, Darkblade tried his best to steer it towards the Temple of Blood and before long he slipped into the coma of sweet dreams and alcohol induced fevers.