The robed man sighs and shakes his head in theatrical disappointment, still petting his lap-corpse. The hooded figures cease their chanting, some stiffening nervously, others edging away from the throne.

This does significant damage to the people with knives!

"Anyway. Decapitation is apparently the trick," he says. "Welcome to wherever the fuck we are."

"And I'm Mark. Pleased to meet you too. From the short conversation I had with this clod," he gestures at the dusty puddle of blood all around him, "before he temporarily murdered me, I believe we're on Earth, but it can't possibly be the Earth I grew up on because the Earth I grew up on did not contain vampires or magic."

"That name is completely unfamiliar to me. Uh, is it in some obscure planet in the Outer Rim, or further out?" Pause. "... Actually. I bet you haven't heard of - Coruscant, Corellia - The Republic?"

"...On what planet did humans originate, where you're from?"

"Coruscant, probably. But we're kind of everywhere and history's a bit shoddy sometimes, so no one knows for sure. Did they originate on Earth for you?"

"Yeah. Verifiably."

"Hmm. What's the interstellar neighborhood like? Any interesting species? Do you have hyperspace?"

"The number of colonized planets is in the hundreds - maybe a hundred and fifty or two hundred. Preexisting life on a few, but nothing sapient other than humans. I don't know what you mean by hyperspace but contextually I suspect we don't."

"A hundred and fifty or two hundred," breathes Revan. "I'd feel trapped. Nothing other than humans? That's. It seems - boring, lonely maybe. Uh, no offense. Hyperspace is - well, sort of weird to explain. If you have a hyperdrive, you can enter hyperspace and move many, many times the speed of light. Lets you travel all over the galaxy, but if you get your calculations wrong and stray too close to a star or something you have one very short, but very bad day."

"Commence feeling trapped," says Mark. "I think is pre-Jump Earth. One inhabited planet. Wormhole jumps are our version of faster-than-light travel."

"Ugh. One planet. One? One. Ick. It's like Rakata all over again. Human edition. And this time with no ship that'll be repaired. I don't know how everyone hasn't gone mad."

"Everything has to start somewhere. Humanity included."

"Oh, I'm not putting the planet down or insulting its inhabitants," agrees Revan. "I'm sure everyone on it will go on to do great and fantastic things and kill each other in new and interesting ways. Just. I grew up understanding that I could go anywhere in the galaxy. And then did go just about everywhere in the galaxy, for various reasons. It's just - culture shock, I suppose." He snorts. "Funny. Everything else I took in stride, even Rakata and their crazy, but the idea of there being just one planet is what shocks me culturally."

"All in what you're used to, I suppose."

"Yep. It's interesting. I think I'd like to explore. But, I would still like to go home, if it's possible. I have a Republic to keep together."

"I don't have the faintest idea how to get either of us back where we belong."

"Yeah, that's usually how these sorts of things go. Wander around, talk to people, help some people, kill some people. And eventually there's a sith waiting for you in an underwater base or something, who monologues at you, and inadvertently tells you exactly what to do. Then you kill him. And then you save the galaxy." Pause. "... I live a strange life, have I mentioned?"

"How strangely optimistic of you."

"I have not led the sort of life that inclines me to believe all my problems can be solved so neatly."

"Not necessarily neatly. And things won't just work out if you wait around long enough." Like a certain jedi council. "But if you work at it, make some friends, kick some ass, save some people, and prepare for the future - it will work out in your favor." He shrugs. "And even if the goal of 'get off the planet' doesn't work, then you've made friends, kicked ass, saved people, and probably prevented major disasters."

"Mm. I see what you mean."

"So, strange optimism. Heh. I don't think I've been called an optimist before."

Mark giggles.

"Seems reasonable," says Mark. Then he makes a slightly annoyed face. "Ugh, I'm hungry."

"Yeah. I suppose I could try scavenging from what's left of his little cult."

"I'm not quite clear on what you need. People, obviously, but not which part. Brains? Bone? Blood? Souls? Force energy? Does it kill whoever you take it from?"

"Blood. Judging from the number of bite marks on some of those people, it's not necessarily fatal."

Revan eyes said bite marks. "If scavenging doesn't work, I can feed you. Maybe not comfortably right now, I was just stabbed, but I can heal. It'll be fine."

"How generous of you. Thanks."

"Yep. We summonees of the murder cult should stick together."

"Agreed."

Mark grins.

"Well, by rights of conquest the too-tactically-pathetic-to-accurately-be-called-a-castle's ours. But I don't know about you, I don't want to stay in the murder cult base. I think once we're done we should find somewhere else. I might have missed something in my pillaging, though - you are welcome to check for anything."

"It's not just you," agrees Revan. "The entire place is built for - well, to look innocuous on the outside, and then for his minions to treat him like a god on the inside. It isn't very practical, but it's not impractical in the way I would normally expect. Where's the opulent room at the top of the tower that overlooks everything? The dramatic balcony and the stained glass windows? He didn't seem to me like a man that lacked the ordinary tasteless style from these sorts of people. You saw the fur robe. He had a sense of the theatrics. I wonder why the design choice. I feel like I'm missing something..."

"Vampire-related reasons would be my first guess, which makes me reluctant to go upstairs. But I don't intend to stay in the murder cult's windowless basement for the rest of my immortal unlife... Some legends have it that vampires react badly to sunlight; that might be it."

"Possibly. It's night. If it's sunlight you should be all right, unless reflected moonlight counts enough."

"Oh good, you didn't explode," says Revan sincerely.

"I am glad I didn't explode. So, moonlight's safe. Sunlight is still an unknown."

"Yeah. And we should find a spot for you to stay in case sunlight turns out to be deadly. Mm. Here's better than nothing but it still screams 'This will end badly' to me."

"Does it?"

"Yeah, that's a fair analysis. I'm reluctant to flee immediately without taking the time to figure out just why a vampire would prefer to live in a windowless basement, though."

"Sure. That's fair. We can take a day or two to figure that out before we leave."

Nod.

Well, with that decided: "Then I should go clean up the corpses to avoid the smell. Might also look for secret passages, maybe this place is less of a tactical trainwreck than it appears to be."

"Weren't you just saying you didn't want to clean up the corpses?"

"Oh, I don't," he says lightly. "But I want to deal with rotting corpses even less."

"Valid preference. I'll help."

Mark, once it is established that Revan is capable of dealing with all the body parts by hismelf, locates cleaning supplies and starts mopping up the blood on the floor of the throne room. It's not such a big problem as the corpses, but it's already getting sticky and gross. He also hauls what's left of the throne upstairs and dumps the bloodstained pieces in Revan's fire pit, to get it out of his way. (It was an early casualty in his fight with the robed man.) On consideration, he does the same thing with the blood-soaked fur robe.

Bothered is not exactly the word, no.

Positively fascinating. The stories they could tell...

"Pity, I would've loved to hear about 'em."

"I do have some of them," he offers. Still with his eyes closed, he points to a circular burn near his shoulder. "That was a gang member on Taris. He was a bit of a bastard. Threw a fit when I beat his best swoop racer in a race, and turned the entire place into a killzone in revenge. I won, and saved the person I'd come there to save, despite what she would tell you about 'saving herself' - bullshit, by the way - and then we stole the ship out from under a crime lord to get off the planet."

"Nice. Well done."

"Thank you." He points at a long cut on his left arm. "That one was a sith that ambushed me while I was exploring an underwater base filled with selkath that had been driven mad. I had just handled the giant seabeast that was responsible, and he showed up to monologue at me about how he was going to kill me and earn favor from his master. It did not work out as he planned. Don't even know how he got down there, I had to work my ass off to get a sub, and he just shows up out of nowhere to kill me."

"Typical," Mark snorts.

"It really is." He points to the... rather large bite mark on his torso. "And that was a rancor on Rakata. Just a little one. It found my aftertaste disagreed with it." Revan sparks, just a bit.

Revan smirks.

"Personally, of course, I expect you to be delicious."

"Aw, you say the nicest things."

Mark giggles.

"Do you have any interesting stories? I would assume so, with the -" handwave, "obvious training and observation skills."

"Mm. D'you want the seven-century version or the two-decade version?"

"History lesson, why not. Seven-century version."

"Right, so. After humanity discovered wormhole jump technology, we started colonizing every half-habitable rock in sight. Well and good. Then, with one of those half-habitable rocks half-colonized - a planet called Barrayar - we discovered that wormholes sometimes spontaneously collapse. Barrayar was cut off. The fifty thousand initial colonists had to make do with a partially terraformed planet and a haphazard collection of technology that they soon lost the infrastructure to maintain. Over the next six hundred years, they scraped together a more or less functional society. Then somebody found a new wormhole route to Barrayar, from a planet called Komarr. Among Komarr's other connections was the eight-planet Cetagandan Empire, which liked the look of Barrayar for a ninth. They bribed the Komarrans to let their warships through, and conquered Barrayar. Occupied them for a good twenty years before the Barrayarans threw them out with a combination of galactic aid and sheer stubbornness, whereupon the Barrayarans immediately conquered Komarr because what else are you going to fucking do."

"They weren't interested in explaining themselves. The official excuse was inappropriately ambitious generals. Inappropriate ambition did play a part, I think - you conquer the territory, maybe you get a piece, and Barrayar looked like easy pickings."

"Yeah. It was a clean job, too, hardly any casualties, right up until some bloodthirsty fuckwit on the Barrayaran side decided to kill two hundred Komarran civilians for reasons that remain lost to history because the admiral in charge personally executed him as soon as the news broke."

"You know, a few years ago I would have argued that he should have interrogated the idiot responsible for that first. But now I can't fault the person responsible and wish I'd done it with a similar situation. How badly did the backlash hit the admiral?"

Revan sighs. "Of course it didn't, because it was a stupid plan. You were the major victim of it?"

"Well, arguably. And he very nearly pulled it off. It's just that in the course of studying the family I was supposed to infiltrate, I noticed that they were all vastly more likeable people than the asshole who had hold of my leash."

He tilts his head. Meditation's kind of being ignored, sorry meditation. He'll get to you later, really. "... And you slipped the leash?"

"Shot him," Mark says succinctly.

"That was very brave," observes Revan.

"Eh, I guess."

Nod. "And then you were summoned by the murder cult?"

"Spent a while roaming the galaxy playing surreal pranks on the Barrayaran intelligence agents who were following me, first."

... Revan cracks up. "Surreal pranks? Such as?"

"Break into hotel room, completely cover bed in neat rows of dried beans, leave without a trace."

"Thank you. I try."

"Go for it."

"Well," he says, floating to sit on the ground because obviously meditation is just not happening, "there's a bit of galactic history before we can get into mine, as well. I'm sure you've heard me mention something called the Force and likely pinned it down as some strange psuedo-religion magic thing?"

"Something like."

He nods. "Before I can explain the history I need to explain that. The Force is - something that connects everyone, and everything. It's always difficult to describe it, especially to people that aren't Force sensitive. Being Force sensitive is like you always have a - sense of the world around you. Always have a feel for the big picture and the people in it, like - I wouldn't say 'like you are never alone,' that's not quite accurate, like you are never cut off. Like even when you are alone you're not blind and deaf and defenseless." Pause. "For the two seconds of sensory deprivation, I felt like I was cut off from the Force, and I sincerely think that if there is a hell, that's it."

"Mm."

"How noble."

"Oh, perfectly," Mark assures him.

"Well done."

"...And this was meant to help?"

"If I left the majority of the infrastructure intact, converted as many jedi as I could to my cause, picked my battles carefully... Yes. With the help of an ancient factory called the Star Forge that could churn out droids and ships. Which I went and found, for the express purpose of conquering the galaxy. I had time before the - whatever it was - showed up, just not enough to reform the Republic by any means that wasn't conquering it and running it all myself. I uh. Only sort of understand my own logic at the time. I was sort of - falling to the dark side around then."

"I see. Well. Did it help?"

"Enh. Recall when I said I should have jumped straight to execution when in a similar situation as the admiral who conquered Komarr?"

"Somebody fucked you over?"

"Traitorous apprentice?"

"So, capture?"

"Capture. Sort of. I was - in a state. According to them, I was brain dead. I - suspect otherwise, but anyway. They didn't have the means to combat my former apprentice - Malak, if you're curious, was his name - with his fancy Star Forge that I found. They needed me to lead them to where it was so they could go blow it up. And either I was actually brain dead, or they didn't think I'd be cooperative if I were awake and myself."

"Yes, it does seem an awfully convenient instance of brain death. For them."

"It does, doesn't it? Either way, they - I don't think they could implant me with a false personality, but they could do false memories. So they tried to make me - mm. More pliable? More willing to follow orders. And then they were going to have me lead them around with a slightly bullshit story about force bonds to the Star Forge, and then they would blow it up. Slight problem. Their ship was attacked, by Malak. He's occasionally almost good for something, in this story. Almost."

"What'd he do?"

"I was on that ship. I - am tempted to say 'I got off the ship and onto the planet below,' but it's likely more accurate to say I had an escort almost lead me to the escape pods, then die against a dark jedi so I could run for it. Either way, I was off the ship, away from the jedi, and on a planet, free to wander around and try to figure out a way off of the rock."

"How'd that turn out?"

"Rescued a jedi named Bastila who had a large part in either saving my life or brainwashing me, stole a ship from a crime lord, made it off the planet just before Malak carpet bombed it, because of course he fucking carpet bombed it."

"Never learns, does he."

"Not 'til the day he died. And on that day, he learned I am a bad man to have as an enemy."

"It's the righteous ones you've got to watch out for, that's not news."

"It isn't, but it was just. Sort of gratifying to see her eat her words. She spent - so much time lecturing me on the dangers of the dark side. And then she falls." Smirk. "And then I dragged her kicking and screaming from her little temper tantrum, because fuck if I'm going to kill someone with something as rare as battle meditation just because she's inconvenient."

"Well done you."

"Thank you. I'm kind of an asshole, but you know, occasionally I do the right thing."

"It's an endearing quality."

"That should be my new strategy for my reputation. 'Revan. Reformed sith lord, occasionally does the right thing. Still sometimes kind of an asshole.'"

Snort.

"It seemed halfway reasonable, as attempts to conquer the galaxy go."

"I made a halfway reasonable sith. I... Think. I admittedly don't remember most of it."

"And it seems, from my admittedly limited examples, that a halfway reasonable sith is a difficult item to come by."

Revan snickers. "I've met a less limited number of sith. They are mostly all insane."

"What a surprise."

"They had an academy. It was - some mix of sick, pathetic, and completely bonkers. I attended, briefly, during my miscellaneous adventures. They are mostly all insane." Pause. "I have stories, if you want to hear them."

"Love to."

He flashes a smile. "How did I know. All right, so the star map I needed was in the Tomb of Naga Sadow. The Tomb of Naga Sadow was located in the sith academy. So, of course, I had to go join the sith academy to get at the tomb. Here is how it worked - first, you had to get a medallion from a person who was recruiting - you didn't get a medallion if you weren't considered worthy. Or, you could kill someone else that had a medallion, and it would be just as valid, and they would let you walk right in. Because that's good planning."

"It's like they're setting them up to be a bunch of short-sighted backstabbing fuckups," says Mark.

"Oh, they are. So upon admittance into the academy, the prospective students are thrown into a competition with all of their peers. Only one among the group may become a sith. Then, they turn all of their prospective students loose, with little to no training, and tell them to go do things to gain 'prestige.' That is, proof that you are worthy of being sith. The, mm, most common way was to raid old, very deadly tombs of past sith lords. And to kill your competition. That sort of thing - 'go do something dangerous, you have zero training, you are expected to win anyway, and forget about making alliances.'"

"For fuck's sake," says Mark.

"It gets better. I'm not kidding, it does. So, I am, uh, myself. At this place. I redeem some people, I kill some people, I raid some tombs, I reprogram a droid that wanted to live in peace so it wouldn't kill people that it didn't want to. I have a soft spot for droids, it was very polite, I couldn't help but help it out. Anyway - so I defeat my competition. I get told to go on a trip to the Tomb of Naga Sadow for my final test, lucky me. I succeed at that, too, which involved fighting two giant Force-resistant beasts alone, which sucked. After, when I have completed the 'test' and found my star map, I go to leave, and... The master of the academy shows up. And then tells me to kill his apprentice."

"I am beginning to get really annoyed with these people."

"You and me both. I killed him, defeated the apprentice, and then asked very nicely if she would like to stop being a part of an organization that was obviously going to kill itself off in under a decade. She accepted, went on her merry way. I walked out and that is when the students thought it would be a good idea to attack me." He smiles a very smug smile. "That went as well as expected."

Snicker. "Oh, I bet."

"A tragedy. Whatever will they do."

"Die off, hopefully."

"With any luck."

"Thank you," says Mark.

"...With considerable regret, I think I'm going to have to say 'not nearby'."

"Aw. I understand. Want a consolation prize?"

"Sure."

"No objections. Goodnight."

Mark goes off to sleep in the safe vampire bed. Ugh. At least it's comfortable.

"Good morning! I had breakfast, it occurred to me that you also might need some."

"I seem to be all right for now."

"Sounds like fun."

"Oh, loads! Want to help?"

"Naturally."

Mark is on hand to consult about the nature and likely usefulness of various objects! He's not an expert in the early twenty-first century, but he's a lot closer to one than Revan.

"Eh. I'm charmed by the cats. They're so fluffy," says Mark.

"Pity my hair's not longer, or I might indulge in the hair clips."

Mark giggles. "Some of them are quite nice."

"And there are so many options available!"

"Anyway. Time to find out if I explode in sunlight?"

Mark shrugs. "All right."

"Yeah," agreed Revan, raising his eyebrows. "Well. Not the end of the world, but shit. I was hoping we were just being paranoid and cautious instead of completely on the right track."

"This is going to make travel inconvenient."

"A bit. I mean, I bet there's clothes that could help. But probably best not to chance it. I'm happy to play fetch for things you can't get during the day."

"Thanks."

"Yep! What are poor fellow victims of a murder cult brought together by circumstance and ominous candles for?"

Mark giggles.

Snicker. "You're adorable," says Mark. "The two things I want most in the world right now are a vehicle and a map. There must be a sunproofed vehicle of some kind around here somewhere, not having one would be insane, but I didn't see it when we were outside earlier."

"Thank you, I try." He bows. "I'll go looking. Now, if you like, actually."

"Might as well."

"Sure." Pause. "... I'm glad you didn't explode, by the way."

Aw. Mark grins.

Revan snorts a little, waves a quick goodbye, and heads off to find a vehicle.

Mark goes back downstairs and reads some more of the dead vampire's books.

"A vehicle and a map," says Mark.

"Yep!" He holds up the map. "I would have carried the vehicle in triumphantly, but I would have had to break down a wall, and I didn't think you'd want to redecorate just after we moved in."

"Thank you. What gave me away?"

"Looking at the map like it personally offends you."

He snorts. "Did you know the locks here can't be sliced? I had to go and find the key. I didn't get the chance to try and slice it open and then fail in a hilarious fashion first. Frustrating as all hell."

"There, there. I'm sure with a little practice you can learn to be laughably incompetent at lockpicking too."

"Cheering thought! It's just not the same if I don't get to swear at a door for half an hour before either getting someone else or using my lightsaber. I need a measure of normality while I am exploring a new planet. It's like comfort food."

Giggle.

"But then you couldn't have sworn at it at all!"

"Ah, true. As long as we're not in a time crunch, it's better this way."

"But! Vindication. I can open a door."

"Congratulations."

"Thank you. Maybe I can also open locked boxes now that I'm on a world that uses mechanical locks. I feel all powerful."

"Have you been significantly inconvenienced by your inability to open locked boxes?"

"It makes looting more difficult. I have to go fetch someone that can open them, or risk destroying whatever's inside by hitting it with a lightsaber until it's learned its lesson."

"Do a lot of looting, then, do you?"

"Ehh. Yes? I'm not a - well, okay, I'm not typically a thief, but if I've just killed the previous owners of a place and suddenly all of their property is up for grabs..." He shrugs. "Yep. Looting the place. A man's got to eat."

Mark shrugs, too. "Reasonable."