Long gone was the Machine Herald. He died in a pit on Mustafar years ago after a betrayal by the people who he thought were kin. Machine Herald was the sith mastermind. Now there was only Viktor, with his loth cats and one loth wolf. He lived on Lothal, a quiet place since he lived away from the man city hubs. He could never undo what he did to himself, but he long ago stopped doing it to other people.

It was quiet, peaceful. Something Viktor thought he could never achieve years and years ago. But now he lived in a little base, peacefully. Up until there was a knock on his door.

Viktor looked up from plating food for his pets, frowning. He grabbed his mask, a habit he’s never been able to get rid of really, and picked up Fifi, setting the annoyed loth cat on the ground before walking to the door quietly. Despite his heavy metal bulk, he was deathly silent. Years of training did that, really. There was a soft rumble from beside him as Jaguar, his black loth wolf, padded over, clearly sensing something off.

“I know. No one should know where I live.” VIktor murmured, petting the loth wolf before heading down the hallway to the door. He peered through the slot in the top and paused, seeing two older Jedi and a handful of padawans. “What in the siths name..”

Viktor opened the door just a crack, immediatly greeted with a lightsaber humming close to his face. The third arm on his back bristled and snatched the blade away out of habit. “Really? You come to my house to threaten me?” He asked bluntly.