Yridia II
Castle Tarentum

Distrust, once taken hold within a heart and mind, is no small thing to shake. It clouds judgment, colors and enlivens prejudices, and gives false strength to belief. It sticks in the back of one’s throat as the abrasively saline aftertaste of the sea air, and Tsainetomo Keibatsu Sadow had felt it ever since he’d disembarked from his shuttle on Yridia II, a suspicion born of brine and bile carried upon an ill wind.

A squad from the Tarentum Army met the off-worlders as they disembarked from their shuttles, their practiced movements and leveled blaster rifles conveying what their faceless helmets did not. The trio, upon being summarily passed off to the professional curtness of a quintet of officers, had little time to savor what could be their last breaths as they were hurried to the craft waiting to speed them towards their audience below the ocean's surface.

Once the short and silent trip to the docking station had been completed, the Sadowan Quaestor followed the Tarentae escort through the stately halls of Castle Tarentum, his Taldryan counterpart beside him. Neither man spoke as the small procession wound its way towards the throne room, choosing rather to save their words for their host. Both the Keibatsu and Shaz’air Taldrya noted the deliberation with which they were led, their path designed to showcase, as subtly as possible, the grandeur that was House Tarentum. Varied busts and tapestries honoring the House’s heroes and victories adorned the ebon corridors, flanking their path as they moved with purpose. For their parts, the visitors played their roles in this, the pomp before the circumstance. Shaz’air walked unerringly forward, direct in his approach and unwavering in his resolve; his Aedile Anubis was as a mirror, uncompromising in his conviction to support Shaz’air. Anubis’ face was locked in a state of perpetual scowl, deepening whenever he happened to glance at Tsainetomo, who made no attempts to hide his universally recognized mane of hair, the bushy queue at the back of his head billowing behind him as if the man carried his very warbanner through the august halls.

Soon, the time for pageantry had passed, the contingent halting at a set of great doors hinting at the splendor that lay beyond. The escort parted and motioned the three Force-users forward, and they complied as the doors swung open into the throne room.

“Finally,” Anubis muttered under his breath. “They've finished stalling. I swear that if I have to see one more tapestry…”

“Lady Tarentae,” Shaz’air interrupted his Aedile, calling out to the figure seated at the centrally located dais in front of them. Anubis, choking back the rest of his complaint, moved at Shaz’air’s unseen signal to join Scion Altera, battle-tested and wise as he was scarred, to the side as Ronovi Tavisaen Tarentae rose to her full height from her throne and towards her visitors.

As Tarentum’s Quaestor approached, two things became evident to Tsainetomo: firstly, the halls through which they marched were as a hobo-riddled alleyway compared to the spacious seat of Tarentae power that they now occupied. The walls seemed to be carved of a single, massive henge of obsidian, flawless and preternaturally smooth, and the Dark Side emanated from every corner. It was truly beautiful, and Sai distantly wished that he’d come under different conditions.

The second thing that the Son of Sadow noticed was that Ronovi was easily the tallest woman he’d ever seen, much less met. He’d heard stories of the woman’s stature, both literally and figuratively, but to see her in person was entirely different. He was, for the lack of a better word, impressed.

Standing a full hand taller than he, the Tarentae threatened to loom over both he and Shaz’air, but to their credit, neither man flinched as she drew close and stopped, her striking beauty conveying strength and confidence in both herself and in her position.

The three regarded one another in silence, Mirakulan, Epicanthix and Korun meeting peaceably outside of the Iron Throne’s impetus, all three paragons of their respective Houses and assembling as equals. It was a moment of import, and the Quaestors took the time to recognize its significance.

It was not to last.

“Lord Taldrya, Lord Sadow,” Ronovi began, her voice strong and sibilant within the throne room. “Welcome to Castle Tarentum, honored guests.” There was no condescension in her voice, no duplicity in her mien, and Shaz’air appreciated her forthrightness. Tsainetomo merely nodded, a single eyebrow rising to signify his acknowledgement of Ronovi’s recognition.

Ronovi continued. “What brings you to our distant shores, intrepid travelers?” Her professional demeanor belied the storm of emotion beneath her hardened surface; the sooner she could send Shaz’air and Tsainetomo on their way, the sooner she could get the Rakghoul ‘situation’ under control. She did not need this distraction, not now.

“You, Lady Tarentae,” Taldryan’s Quaestor said. A man of very few words, Shaz’air made sure that when he did speak his words held gravity, and judging by the look of resignation that flashed for the briefest of moments upon her face, Tsainetomo knew that the Prelate’s singular pronouncement was grave, indeed.

“Rakghouls, to be more precise,” the Son of Sadow said, picking up on Shaz’air’s cue. “Thanks to the havoc being wrecked on our systems, time and niceties are not luxuries afforded us, Lady Tarentae, so I’ll be brief.” The Tarentae vanguard who were permanently stationed within the throne room were not used to anyone but Ronovi speaking thusly within this, the Sith King’s Hall of Halls, and especially not outsiders. They shifted uneasily at their places at the perimeter of the space, and even Scion’s eye developed an involuntary twitch at Tsainetomo’s words. The Keibatsu noted the sudden change in mood, but he continued, undaunted.

“Weeks ago, I was alerted to an attack in my system involving some sort of animal, one not…indigenous…to the area. Subsequent investigations led me to meet with Lord Taldrya,” Tsainetomo nodded towards Shaz’air, “who regaled me with a similar tale. We both thought that we had been attacked by the other, but it turns out that the beasts originate here. The Throne has entrusted you and yours with this power, and we are here to make sure that an accurate accounting has been made.”

He stopped, his tripartite gaze locked with the singular one of Ronovi’s. She waited for him to continue, but quickly realized that Sai was not going to. Shaz’air stood stoically, saying nothing to refute the Sadowan’s story. Ronovi’s hand itched to be filled with a tumbler full of whiskey, but instead, it instinctively found her ‘saber’s hilt.

Her eyes began to narrow. There was too much surety in Tsainetomo’s tone, and Shaz’air’s silence added conviction. Tarentum was on trial, and the looks on both men’s faces conveyed judgment. Even Tsainetomo’s very word choice reeked of accusation. Attacked. An accounting. Ronovi’s anger began to flare, an ember of disbelief fanning itself into a blaze of incredulity. The tension was palpable, waiting for the spark to set the powder-keg of latent aggression off.

“A moment, Lords and Lady,” Anubis spoke. “Where is the rest of the Sadowan contingent? I don’t think that Tsainetomo is prepared. We should really wait for the good Quaestor’s second to arrive…whenever that may be.” A derisive snort punctuated Anubis’ suggestion, and the man’s arms folded across his chest, satisfaction draped across his face as Shaz’air’s head turned slightly in Tsainetomo’s direction. It was Ronovi’s eyebrows' turn to rise as the unanswered queries in their minds were given voice.

Tsainetomo responded, but his eyes never left Ronovi’s. “Anubis, my cousin Ashia used to be your Master, yes? You seem to have forgotten her lessons, prime of which that as my Overlord wills, so I obey. Wherever threats surface to me and mine, so shall I to destroy them, as long as I draw breath, office or no.” Tsainetomo’s voice was flat as he spoke; it was common knowledge that Naga Sadow had been operating without an Aedile for some time, and now the question of his, and by extention his very House's, fitness to assist had finally been asked.

Tsainetomo’s answer was incendiary, to say the least.

“Besides, the Aedile position is just another chair that anyone could conceivably fill: nothing more, nothing less.” The Keibatsu grinned as he framed his next pronouncement. “I see that Shaz’air agrees wholeheartedly.”

The Dark Side seemed to roar in triumph as Anubis took the bait, a growl tearing itself from his throat as his lightsaber found its way into his hand, yellow plasma eagerly ripping its way from his clenched fist. The palaver disintegrated as the Aediles moved to their Quaestor’s sides, each party distancing themselves from one another.

Shaz’air’s blind eyes scanned the area as his own argent-tinged weapon ignited, the Force whispering possible exit routes and ways to inflict maximum damage even as Anubis stood guard before him.

The cacophony of charging blasters surrounded them as the Tarentae vanguard began to level them at Shaz’air, Anubis and Sai. “You would draw blood within my very House?!” Ronovi roared, her ornate hilt belching bronzed fury even as Sai, the grin still creasing his features, drew his own unique weapon and held it before him. Gifted by the Voice himself, Sai’s lightsaber was two hilts joined at their bases, and the twin emitters birthed identical columns of sunset. His heartbeat pounded in his ears just as it did in the quiet moments before a battle or duel, and an anticipatory stillness had fallen upon the throne room, eagerly waiting to be violently dispelled by the first clash of blade upon blade.

Ideally, Tsainetomo thought, he could probably kill two of them, maybe three if Ferran smiled upon him. He was working out how who would be the first when the unexpected happened.

The seasoned voice of Scion Altera poured out even as a gentle hand alit upon Ronovi’s shoulder. “Ronovi, this solves nothing…”

Tsainetomo gave a start then relaxed, powering down his blades. “Did you hear that?”

Shaz’air, signaling for Anubis to stand down even as his own blade slurped its way back into its housing. “I did, Tsainetomo. He said solves, not proves.”

“Indeed,” Sai said, approaching the Tarentae Summit with measured steps, the Force betraying Ronovi's sudden hesitancy even as she, too, quieted her weapon. The difference in phrasing, though subtle, was distinct, and Shaz’air moved forward as well. So many Dark Jedi clashes were about establishment, of power and of position, but this situation was different; there was a clear opportunity for cooperation before them, if they were wise enough to seize it.

The Mirakulan spoke, his words carefully weighed as to not send them back down the abyss.

“Ronovi, what exactly is going on?”

Alllll-righty then! If you were brave enough to plod through the above…novella…then you deserve to know what it’s all about: it’s the third installment to the wondermous-ness that will be the Naga Sadow-Taldryan-Tarentum Tri-House Event! My esteemed colleagues Ronovi, Shaz’air and I have been working hard to develop what we think will be a fun event, and we all hope that we see some good participation in that bad boy.

Oh, a title? Not only do we have that, we have worked out the events and the matchups for what is shaping up to be a four week event. It is going to be called ”Burden, Distrust, and Loathing” and will give us all a look into what truly drives us as we may be forced to work with an enemy to solve a mutual…’problem’. ;)

The event is slated to begin January 13th, and we’ve been very careful to include a wide variety of events so that epic fun can be had by all: ACC, Gaming, Fiction, Graphics and Multimedia. It’s a smorgasbord of Awesome-Sauce!

We are also enlisting the help of some DC’ers to ensure impartiality, and also because we need their blessing for the platforms and arenas we need! ;)

Soon and very soon, you’ll be treated with Ronovi’s next chapter, which will serve as the official ‘start’ of the event; beloved Sadowans, I fully expect that we will represent as only Clan Never Sober can!

You’ll note that I haven’t named an Aedile yet; this has been purposefully done, as Teu and I compare notes on the applications we’ve received, and I lurk, watching silently, to see if the applicants are actually already doing what they said they would should they get appointed. My reasoning is that if you are a TRUE leader, you don’t need a set of letters the Seneschal loads up on the site, can ya dig it??

I knew that you could.

As I have no doubt choked your screens and the DB News page with my fiction alone, I will spare you all the greatness that my Sadowans have achieved…but trust that many Journeymen did stuff and shinys were awarded! ;)

In all seriousness, I’ll be putting out a more structured report detailing our accomplishments, but know that for now that Activity denotes Fun-Times-Being-Had, and I’m extremely proud of the way you guys are conducting yourselves during these interesting times.

Here, I’d like to talk a li’l bit about ‘karma’. You’ll no doubt have noticed that a lot of our Journeymen have been submitting ideas for competitions, which is a fantastic thing in my eyes: it means our youngsters are bought in right now, and are taking a hand in shaping the activities they want to have to keep them around. Remember, Old Heads, that YOU were once in the position where you needed people to support your competitions, and these are necessary for promotions. Return the love, people, and show our new members that we do, in fact, care about them and their enjoyment!

I’ll be submitting requests for the Clusters of Ice for the past month in Unrest…, so keep an eye on your inboxes for ‘em!

Annnnnnd, I’m spent. Get ready to enjoy Burden, Distrust, and Loathing!

In service, ever for Sadow…