All is Forgiven in Victory

Disclaimer: All characters mentioned here are the property of LFL, I am not making any money from this fic and it is intended purely for the twisted enjoyment of people in a galaxy far far away. Please don’t sue me as I have no cash or sanity.

Note: Some small bits of the spoken text is taken from Star By Star, written by Troy Denning, no infringement is intended.
All other text is my own.

All is Forgiven in Victory.

Chapter 1.


To the untrained eye, the sight that beset the wilds of space amidst the black-bantha Nebula , would have appeared as a rather ill placed asteroid field.
Thousands of dark, rust coloured pock-marks littering the milky disturbance of the space around it, merely hanging serenely in place or in meandering orbits around the nebulas storm, disturbed gravity wells.

Amongst all that clung to the fringes of the nebula , one large form seemed to dominate all. The surface of which was, in places, a shimmering mass of blackened Yorik Coral, eerily reflecting the light from small ‘storms’ created deep within the nebula it’s self.
This were, of course, no asteroid field but a Yuuzhan Vong fleet. The largest of its flotilla belonging at the current moment in time, to the Sunulok.
Deep beneath it’s dark, living surface, hundreds of crew toiled in preparation for the orders that were sure to come soon. Many of the crew had not rested for several cycles, and yet they dare not show the signs of fatigue. This was certain to be one of their finest moments; there would be no room for failure.
To fail would be to displease Yun-Yammka himself, who would surely rain down the gods’ disapproval on all concerned if they did not devote every fibre of their beings to this task.

The chamber that acted as the living ship’s communications centre was no different. Clusters of bulbous, brown spheres aligned the walls and surfaces, tended to by the Sunulok’s Communications Attendant, or Villip Mistress.
Standing tall and lithe, the Attendant was one considered very young to have gained a position aboard the Warmasters’ flag ship.
Dark honour bars burned into her cheeks gave her a very striking appearance and this, along with other ritual scarring and tattoos upon her rail thin form, suggested that she were viewed as extremely adept at what she did. Perhaps it had been the Warmaster’s own dislike for the Intendant caste, of which she was born to, that had prevented her ascension to higher ranks.
The thought had not crossed Seef’s mind since she had been placed here. She did the best she could to serve her kind on the eve of battle.

Only hours before, Seef had thought she were the bearer of some extremely bad news. The infidels had defeated a small flotilla of Yuuzhan Vong ships aprox a day ago. Seef had been the one to receive the news Via the fleet commanders’ Villip. In turn she had to report the pitiful failure to Warmaster Tsavong Lah himself. She knew fine well how news such as this would be taken, and in exchange she had offered her life in payment for presenting him with such humiliating information, in front of the entire high chew no less.
He had surprised her then, by pushing the offer to take the coufee she held out to him, aside.
He openly voiced that this move on the part of the infidels had been anticipated.
Seef had been astounded by the reaction, fully prepared to die, she had forgotten herself, forgotten her place and questioned the Warmaster’s remarks.
She was offered little explanation before Tsavong Lah had placed one, firm hand against her back and gently pushed her in the direction of the exit.

As the membranous ‘door’ had irised closed behind her, she heard the Warmaster utter a few inaudible words before a huge roar of approval had ripped through the High Chew. While Seef knew that this were certainly something important to do with their cause for being here, she had been unable to get what was possibly the simplest unrelated thing out of her mind.
Twice now, she had interrupted the Warmaster from his duties or daily tasks. Once during a religious sacrifice to the gods, and this time only moments ago. Neither time did she recall him treating her with the contempt he afforded most of the Intendant caste.

She sat now, tending to the villip choirs as they conveyed the images of the rest of the arriving fleet to their position.
So captivated by the enormity of the gathering, Seef barely noticed the largest and rather solitary Villip averting.
It’s solitary position and slight colour difference, set it apart from all the others for a reason, this were the Villip of Supreme Overlord Shimrra.

Seef jumped to her feet at once and promptly stepped within ‘seeing’ range of the now feature-covered villip. She noted, as she crossed her arms in a salute, that the creature recreated the Overlord’s horrendously mutilated features, in an almost humble way. She had never met Shimrra Jamaane personally, but rumour was that he bore a striking likeness as any supreme overlord should, to Yun-Yuuzhan himself. If Seef had to picture the great god, this was as close as it got to the images she had imagined, even as a crècheling.

“ Speak” the Overlords voice boomed.

“ I am at your service Supreme one, how may I aide you?” Seef Uttered, doing her best to keep her voice neutral and not to convey the slight trepidation seeping into her mind.

The Villip’s eyes narrowed almost imperceptivity.
“ Attendant, you will summon Warmaster Tsavong Lah to me.”
If the image replicated by the villip did not strike fear into the hearts of all subordinates, then the Overlord’s voice did.
Seef thumped both fists to opposite shoulders .
“ At once Dreadlord.”

Carefully moving the villip to a privacy chamber within the communications bay, Seef then set about the task of locating the Warmaster.
This task would not normally have bothered her, she lived to serve after all, but the knowledge of the Warmaster’s last words deterred her somewhat. He had given strict instruction not to be disturbed after his little announcement in the High Chew.
A subaltern on the command deck had reiterated as much to her, adding that the Warmaster had chosen to spend this time cleansing before battle.

It was with a tremendous amount of fear she now found herself outside the membranous entrance to the Warmaster’s steam cell. Seef knew implicitly that fear was an unwelcome weakness. And by all accounts she should never show it, especially in front of one as great as Tsavong Lah.
Taking slow deliberate breaths, Seef waited for the erratic shaking of her hands to stop before she coaxed the doorway to open.

A cloud of warm steam poured out in a flurry, exchanging with the somewhat cooler air from outside the chamber. It was several moments before the Attendant’s eyes adjusted to the sight before her.
Steam broiled around her, enveloping her in it’s tepid embrace, causing a thin sheen of sweat to cling to her skin and living garments.
But it did little to undo the knot that was now forming in Seef’s stomach.

Mere meters away sat Tsavong Lah, completely Naked, his scarred and tattooed form truly a sight to behold. Rust-red scales protruded from the majority of his torso, providing a living armour as well as a prominent sign of the Warmaster’s status.
Seef had often wondered how one could have endured and loved through the pain involved during the arduous process of having the scale-seeds fused to their bones.
Her conclusion had shortly followed. As any warrior of his status should, Consummately.

“…How dare you disturb me!” She had not caught his first few words, there was no need.

It was forbidden for anyone subordinate to the Warmaster to look upon his naked form and live. Such actions were punishable by the most ignoble of deaths. The only exception to this rule being in the case of breeding. And that was certainly not done out of one’s caste.
It was with all this knowledge in mind, that Seed ignored the cold adrenaline coursing through her veins and fell forcefully to her knees as the Warmaster rose from his seated position.

He did not bother to cover himself and had already reached for the dagger-like coufee that the Attendant held out for him to take.

“ Forgive me, but the choice was not mine!” Seef managed to say relatively evenly, if a little quickly.

Tsavong Lah hesitated, but only slightly.

“ Lord Shimrra’s villip has everted.” She finished, sounding a little more subdued.

Risking a glance upward at the imposing figure that now towered over her, Seef could clearly see the latest addition to the many implants this one had acquired over the years.
A radank claw, an ailing one at that, in place of where his left arm and hand once were.
Tsavong Lah seemed to be mulling her words over, no doubt prolonging her emotional distress before eventually granting her death, as was just. However, something changed in his eyes and he looked upon Seef now with a gaze that left no doubt about his intentions.
Pushing her coufee aside he finally spoke,
“ You will prepare yourself.”