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Game ⚜️ Knights of the Eternal Empire: The True Sith Trials ⚜️

Undying Master Xiannarr

Well-known member
IC: Master Darth Xiannarr
Training Room, Sith Temple, Korriban

Seemingly ignoring Apprentice Kira, Xiannarr instead accepted the holocommunicator from Apprentice Dymos. A quick scan revealed a task directive - from Lady Apollyon, no less. Xiannarr did not have much time to ponder this new information. Ermir swiftly ruined the plans Xiannarr had, telling the group to make haste to their new task with the Dread Master as their guide.

Great… just perfect, Xiannarr thought to himself. More babysitting duty. Who does that pompous bantha turd think he is? If even half the rumours about the overseer were true, I could probably get away with running him through with my sabers. It would even be worth a punishment post in the library or a demotion. Anything to be the one to kill that snake.

Placing his left hand on his chin, the Dread Master tilted and cracked his neck in both directions. He rolled his head around once and began to move.

“Right! Apprentices to me. Let's get this over with. You all have your orders. I suggest you don't keep Lady Apollyon waiting.” Xiannarr directed, finally assuming the authority bereft to a Sith Master

With a final venomous look at the overseer, Xiannarr considered hitting him with a Force Crush. However he would quickly dismiss the idea. There were too many witnesses.

With a wave Xiannarr pulled his cloak to his hand, taking the time to don it before leaving the training room. He took note of the appearance of some of the apprentices as they prepared to head to the dungeons with him. There would not be any stops along the way. Hopefully they had all paid attention to the orders from Apollyon.

Xiannarr moved to head into the hallway. He expected the apprentices to fall wordlessly into step behind him. Before he could, Apprentices Kira and Loharr made an excuse to leave. They walked quickly ahead of the group, away from the direction they needed to go. Something that Ermir did not fail to notice, whirling out of the room after them yelling insults in the hope it would stop them.

Deciding that it was hardly his problem whether the apprentices followed the order or not, Xiannarr would take those that remained, that was apparently his duty now. He activated his aura of uneasiness as he stepped through the door, followed by his telepathy. Walking passed overseer Marcus. Xiannarr sought to make Ermir feel as uncomfortable as possible and read his thoughts, before dropping the aura a few steps later.




Powers used:
Aura of uneasiness-2
Telepathy-1

Tags: @Keres Dymos @skira @Kielor @Nacros_Telcontare @Loharr Talem @Darth Dreadwar @Zareel Jhenan´doka
 
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Darth Kain

Administrator
Staff member
Administrator
Moderator
Dark Council
Immortalis
The Convoluted Combo
Chasing Kainbows

PicsArt_08-16-12.36.41.jpg


IC: Darth Kain, Darth Catalyst, Cordé Venau, and Darth Drakul Xarxes
Outside the Banquet Hall, Sith Temple, Korriban

It was a trickle at first, like the first drops of rain on a warm, spring day. Then it poured, filling every cell in his body with its touch. The Force had been an old friend of the Beloved Prince of the Stars, and even those few moments of suppression had proven to be a few moments too many. To think he’d once thought the Ysalamiri fascinating, even gifting a scale to the young Illium - now Darth Traya the Third - as a means of combating the sickness she experienced during hyperspace travel. But now they were little more than pests, a means of keeping the Dark Messiah from subjugating nearly everyone in that hall to his will.

A small part of him knew and realized that there were many reasons for the presence of those accursed lizards. To maintain order, to prevent Empress Volshe from tearing out Krayt’s throat immediately, to ensure there was no mass brawl for the empty seat of Dreadwar. But a large part of him had focused on a reason more… vain. They were afraid of him. He knew it. He could see it in their eyes, though few of them would ever admit it. They were all too pleased he had not tried taking the throne himself. Did he have a recognized claim? Some relation to the previous ruler that would get him any political leeway? Of course not. But he did not need it. After all, conquest was far more firm a claim than blood ever could be.

But he had exercised restraint, and for that, they all thought him unambitious. He was anything but. And they would learn, all of them, one day. He was immortal; he had time.

Once outside, Kain had not even taken note of his surroundings before inhaling the Force like a breath of fresh air. It flowed through him, stoking the flame in his heart and clearing his mind. His vanity subsided as he was reminded of his purpose for coming out here. He felt his face reshape to its usual form, the eyes of stars replaced with eyes of lush, green fields. He sighed, thankful that none at the feast seemed to have gone mad; not yet, anyhow. There were no sounds of glass breaking or raised voices audible from here, so that was a good sign. But there was something else audible. Perhaps it had been the softest tap upon a stone floor, or perhaps it had simply been the Force warning him, but he knew.

“I was once a bounty hunter, you know,” he said aloud. “Worked with many different beings across the galaxy. But there was one man that always stood out in my memories, an employer with a lot of credits and not a lot of sense. I’d taken care of a few of his business rivals, but I had not completely earned his trust, nor he mine. One day, my youthful curiosity got the best of me. I followed him after he paid me, stalking him through the streets of Serenno. I cornered him in an alley, where he was meant to be meeting some associate, and he told me, ‘Word of advice, son: if another man doesn’t want to be seen, don’t look at him. It’ll save you both a lot of trouble.’”
Kain turned towards Catalyst now, crossing his arms. “I’d say we’d both be disappointing him now, but he’s dead. Killed by an assassin a week after that. Proof that his advice is worth about as much as this endeavor of yours to follow me.”

He took a step towards the Master of Cunning Linguistics, smoldering anger billowing in his very aura. “What is it that you want, Catalyst? Was my performance not up to snuff? I never was very good at acting,” he lied.

To say that Catalyst was amused would have been something of an understatement. The faintest pull of a smirk tugged the edge of his mouth as Kain's temper flared. "If I wished to remain unnoticed, we wouldn't be having this conversation," he stated simply. It was hardly hyperbole at this point; as the effect of the Ysalamiri waned, Catalyst could feel the Force flowing around him again, empowering his own abilities just as much as it was rippling with Kain's anger.

"Besides," he looked around, taking in the scene they had stumbled into, "I don't see a cornered criminal in an alley. I see a Sith Lord showing an unprecedented amount of fear." He stood tall, refusing to back down from Kain's intimidation. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew that if Kain wanted to kill him he would have done so already. "Tell me, was it just feeling a bit stuffy in there, or were you simply tired of the politicking when you had something else in mind?" The implication was bold, and Catalyst doubted that Kain held an ulterior motive for his exit, but one could never be too sure with the Sith.

Now it was Kain's turn to smirk. He knew Catalyst was brash; arrogant, even. But this was a level he had not seen since their little confrontation on Vitae. Was he so unwilling to look weak that he'd stand up to the Beloved Prince of the Stars? In a setting where those lizards wouldn't be able to save him? It was bold. Perhaps Kain even respected it.

But he certainly did not show it.

Kain's canter slowed, each word enunciated with vicious calculation. "You've worked with Intelligence before, Lord Catalyst. You know that the face you're staring at isn't mine." He cocked his head ever so slowly to the side. It would feel as if all the world's gravity had poured into his voice, verbally pressing down.
"This fear you claim to see in my eyes is not for my sake, but for yours. And unless you came out here for a private view of madness, I suggest you put a leash on your curiosity. You are one of the few people at this feast I don't want to see dead."

Catalyst's face softened, just barely, and he closed his eyes. "Very well," he conceded quietly while inclining his head down. "It wasn't my well-being I was concerned about, though." His face rose, and his deep brown eyes focused on Kain's artificial green. "This affair threatens to drive us all mad regardless. I would hate to see you caught in the crossfire over whatever slight your departure could be perceived as." The Lord of Linguistics was not shy about his respect for Kain, even if he didn't agree with some of his choices.

His smirk returned in full force, though, as he gestured behind the Divine Prince. "Someone could have easily mistaken you for trying to pull something sinister here. As much as I'd love to see you torch the poor fool dim enough to accuse you of foul play, this isn't the time." Catalyst cocked his head, looking more closely at the bound prisoners awaiting their final fate at the behest of Apollyon. It seemed a bit contrived anyways to have them ready and waiting to slake the appetite of the bloodthirsty Sith in the Great Hall, but he commended the preparedness. "I assume you're planning to stay as far away from those damnable lizards as possible given your whole…" he waved his hand in front of his face for lack of a better way to describe the reason for Kain's illusory guise. "I'm guessing you didn't bring any cigarras?"


The Dark Messiah gave a snort at the notion. “I’m the man that brings the lighter, not the cigarras.” As if to prove his point, he snapped his fingers, a small flame dancing on the tip of his thumb, before a thought extinguished the light entirely. He had never been a fan of the smell of those things; it reminded him far too much of the slavers who smoked during his captivity.
Suddenly, his eye caught a glance at someone else coming through the doorway. Someone familiar.

Behind them, by a few metres, the ornately dressed daughter of Kára Volshe trailed behind. She was meant to pull Lord Kain aside, to bring him with her to her mother’s side.

The scene was entirely clear to her, and even before she approached Lord Kain - a man she found threatening on the best of days, no matter his outward persona - she was distracted by it. A guillotine and three prisoners, guarded by burly men, easily recognizable to her as the force came flooding back. They were presences she knew.

Her blood chilled. Her eyes nearly crossed. Shock rose in her chest, and for a moment she could not move. She processed what to do, whether she should summon Lord Kain as her mother requested...or return to her mother at once.

She made her decision. She pulled her headdress off, setting - almost tossing - it aside, then turned and bolted. It was sudden, before any of the others would have had time to process her presence. But her rushed exit would have been noticeable, her lithe figure blurring past them as she re-entered the banquet hall and hurried through it.

She needed to find her mother - now. She paused, halfway across the vast hall, biting her lip. In a moment of anxiety, she could not remember what direction they had gone. She saw Vua slip through the far doors, Apollyon approaching the outdoor terrace whence she had come, and thus she decided the best course was following the Vong. Her sandalled feet regained speed as she started running towards the doors.

The sound of heavy footsteps and scraping metal turned from echos to signals and Darth Drakul Xarxes came into view, his horned helm glinting in the fading light. Beyond the pair before him stood a great guillotine, its wicked blade bearing stains of old that forebode a dark future for the marching captives nearby.

Accompanying the Nightfather was a tattooed Chagrian male bearing a datapad, which he absentmindedly tapped away on. Upon catching sight of the two lords before him, Xarxes nodded their way, approaching closer so as to be within conversational distance.

“Kain, Catalyst, dark greetings,” he growled. “I see the air of boiling hatred was not desired for others as well, and the air of Force-dampening even less to some.” Xarxes looked to Kain at the last fragment, a golden glow pulsing lightly from beneath his left eyehole.

“This is my scribe, Zyldek,” he said, gesturing to his companion, who gave a bow. “I hope you do not mind if he stands at a distance while we converse, assuming I’m not interrupting anything?” His lip curled down, though invisible to the others. His mind was actively being protected, as both individuals stood more powerful than he, and even with the enchantment of his helm, the presence of the Force which felt as a breath of fresh air to him was undoubtedly rejuvenating them even further.

Meanwhile, Kain was thrown for a loop. First he sees Cordé take one step outside before she immediately retreats inside, looking like she’d seen a ghost. Then comes Darth Drakul Xarxes, a man Kain thought had been far too invested in his conversation with the Scorched Sky’tri to care where Kain had gone. Unfortunately, it appeared that the Dark Messiah was more popular than he believed.
The scribe though… why did Xarxes bring him out here? Just to infuriate the Beloved Prince? That was not a wise move.

“You need a scribe to write down everything you say, now? Curious.” He finally decided to turn and take a look at the scene behind him, wondering what had gotten his half-sister so worked up. After all, he had not known her for long, but she hadn’t seemed the frantic type. In fact, she’d inherited her father’s stoicism rather well. But this… why was this scene so shocking?

Kain had no doubt who the three prisoners were. He’d been upon enough Federation worlds to see them, whether it’d been via news broadcasts or propaganda posters. Apollyon had not been lying when she claimed to have the last remains of the Federation present for execution. Strangely enough though, Kain had not been expecting guillotines. He was more thinking about summoning his sword and slicing the head clean off of the kneeling Jedi now; that was what he would have preferred.

Catalyst frowned and looked over his shoulder at the sound of the Nightfather's voice. Kain had been watching behind him for a few moments, and Catalyst wondered what he was watching for. It was no secret that Catalyst held great distaste for Lord Xarxes, and he couldn't help but wonder why he had brought a scribe with him. "Xarxes," he maintained a minimal amount of venom in his voice as he spat the name. He nodded towards the chronicler that Kain had already questioned the presence of. "You should have said something sooner, I'd have happily written down some exciting pieces for your memoir." He stepped back, allowing Xarxes to join their circle while Kain observed the prisoners that Apollyon had procured.

The titan turned quickly toward Catalyst, his curling lip transforming into a scowl. Like Catalyst, he did not hold fondness for the other, thinking Catalyst’s loose, lustful nature to be disgusting. He did not, however, care to dwell on such feelings, preferring to listen in on the conversation at hand.

“Zyldek,” he gnashed, “Stand a ways away, and don’t try to listen. Let the Sith speak.”


The Chagrian bowed, retreating back towards the doorway, though not so far as to lose sight of them.

Xarxes stepped into the circle, glancing at the two faces before him, waiting for them to resume.

The doors reopened, behind them, Cordé hurrying through. She paused only to regard the scene before her. Her mother was behind her, with her entourage, but they broke away and proceeded across the sand.

Cordé lingered in one spot, her eyes scanning the courtyard. They locked onto Lord Kain. He was still with the others. Her face scrunched up briefly. In her mind, she contemplated how best to approach them. Xarxes and Catalyst were also two who she sought to not offend.

She decided it best to go up to them somewhat slowly, and so she did. The charms on her dress betrayed her approach. She hoped they would not find it threatening - she was the daughter of Empress Volshe, a princess by any definition. But still, they were Sith Lords. She came to a stop a few feet from the small group. They were speaking. She did not wish to intrude, but her mother’s instructions were urgent.

“Hello, Lord Xarxes, Lord Kain, Lord Catalyst,” she greeted them each slowly, the warmth in her features not unlike the waning rays of the sun. Her voice was quiet, soft, a bell-like song that floated through the air. “I hope you are enjoying the feast. They are always quite the event.”

“Lord Kain,” she said, after a pause. There was no fear, though she felt it as she attempted to make eye contact. “May I speak to you, in private?”

He immediately wanted to dismiss any need for formality from her. There was no need for it amongst family, even if estranged. But he knew such formalities were necessary in this game, especially when the likes of Catalyst and Xarxes knew not the full extent of Kain’s loyalty to Volshe. He gave a smirk to the others, then turned back to her.
“You may,” was his reply.

As he spoke, the Empress and her entourage began to rush past. The fury he sensed within her was swelling violently, like the roar of a star nearing supernova. What was going on? Why was she so full of rage? Had Krayt done something? Whatever it was, he could feel her intentions were divisive, chaotic, even; she was about to do something else that no one here would like.

Not far behind her, the rest of the banquet hall had begun to file out, led by Lady Apollyon. No doubt it was nearly time for the execution. But that fury he felt in the Empress…
Perhaps it was his paternal instinct. Perhaps it was because he knew of Volacius’ disdain for Volshe’s tactics. But he did not hesitate.
He took Volacius by the arm as he was about to pass, his eyes meeting those of his apprentice. His words were no louder than a hushed whisper.

“A word of warning, my former apprentice. To side against Volshe is to side with death. And I want you to live.”

He left it at that, leaving the others to themselves and following Cordé to wherever she deemed private enough from this rabble.

Cordé led him to a corner away from the crowd, not far from them, but close enough they could see what was going on. She stopped - biting her lip, her hand gently fretting with a crimson tassel on the linen at her hip.

“Mother sent me,” she began, her eyes rising to meet his. “She instructed me to inform you of her plan. We were going to take the throne, before this.”


She looked up, over the growing crowd to her mother - who stood now beyond the crowd. Her resolve steeled in her gut. She had no time to delay, any moment the situation could evolve into something far more chaotic. It already was verging on it. Her heart pounded in her chest. She swallowed, exhaling a rough breath. “If they turn on her-“ Those words alone chilled her. She loved her. But now she could imagine the raucous crowd attacking her, putting her in the same stocks her once-friend was in. Or worse. “You need to save Si-... Marasiah. However you can. Take her to Fondor. She said it was very important, that you all might not trust her but that it is for the greater good. For the survival of us all, and the Sith.”

Kain could not believe what he was hearing. The Jedi, the Fel Empire, the Republic. They were enemies of the Sith, but more importantly, enemies of their bloodline. In what universe was the survival of one of their strongest leaders more important than unity among the Sith? Was something going on that Volshe had neglected to tell him?
He wanted to refuse. He wanted to do the galaxy a favor and exact vengeance upon their enemies through his mighty fury.

But he would yield to her will. Even if it was to his detriment, he would obey. There were only two beings in this universe he loved more than his mother, and he was not among them. A plan formulated in his mind, and he nodded.

“For the survival of us all,” he repeated.

Cordé nodded and relaxed visibly. She had not expected him to agree with so little resistance. Her eyes were fire, now, and she looked first to her mother, who had come to a stop with her guard, and then Lord Kain again. “I trust her with all my heart. I know she will explain. Thank you, Lord Kain.”

She inclined her head, though she did not need to, and turned to see what her mother’s next move would be. Her breath stuck in her chest, caught on the razor edge of the guillotine’s blade. Much as the tension amongst them all was. She only hoped the blade would not fall.

* * *

With Kain being escorted away by Volshe's pretty assistant, Catalyst was left standing next to Xarxes as the rest of the guests began to file out to their location. Almost immediately, Lord Xirr was maneuvering through the crowd towards him, giving him an incredulous look. Catalyst returned the expression with a shrug and beckoned him closer with a subtle backwards jerk of his head. Viscretus was stepping forth to defend the doomed in front of the guillotine, brandishing her lightsaber hilt and calling for a stay of execution. Beside her, her retinue of Imperial Knights were also arming themselves. Kriff.

Catalyst's own hand gripped his saberstaff beneath his cape. He did not want to be in the middle of whatever was coming next. His senses were on high alert, and his eyes sought out who he thought might be the biggest threats to his own well being. The sea of malevolence grew as more Sith came outside, and the Force swelled with their presence. Apollyon was out front, weathering a steady glare from Volshe. Notably, Catalyst could not see Darth Nihl, nor any of his children by Volshe. His other, more infamous child was also absent. Likely making a play for the throne, classic Nathemus. The Dark Lord chuckled briefly to himself before the seriousness of that thought actually hit him. He wouldn't… would he? His grasp tightened on his weapon and he concentrated on focusing the Force within himself, ready to take action if things turned ugly.

The Ar’Adas sensed it too. Tension in the Force grew ever stronger as the throng began to emerge. Similarly to Catalyst, the hulking man in armor kept his hand on the hilt of his icy blade, prepared for the following moments, and yet enthralled. He was inwardly furious with Volshe’s actions. Jedi and Federation prisoners ought to be executed, at the very least as a show of strength against the foe. Still, she had a strong claim and the power and support to back it. If she made her stand against Apollyon and Krayt now, the whole of the Valley would erupt into chaos, a gory dance of blood and bone.

TAGS: @Admiral Volshe @Darth Kain @Hadzuska_The Jester @Darth Nathemus @Darth Xirr @Darth Solus @DarthNoxia @Drakul_Xarxes @Jihadi Quartz @Voidwalker @Ānhrā Māhnîu @Helkosh @G.Kn @Reatith Blodraald @Darth Thana @Sith_Imperios @Cardun Vrek @Darth Sedicious @DarthFeros @Darth Xxys @Volacius, @Metus, @Catalyst, @corinthia, @Reiis Invadator, @dragonsith13, @Grievance Vexx, @Arach
 

Darth Kain

Administrator
Staff member
Administrator
Moderator
Dark Council
Immortalis
IC: Darth Kain, the Beloved Prince of the Stars
The Execution Grounds, Korriban

His very thoughts were aflame. Words, images, sounds.

Kill. Abaddon’s broken corpse. The thunder of turbolaser fire.
Vengeance. The Jedi Master, Mai, vanishing in a flash of smoke and ash. The hiss of her padawan’s lightsaber extinguishing.
Savior. Abaddon in his arms once again. Her voice clashing against the demonic presence within her.

Perhaps Marasiah Fel had not been responsible for the events that transpired on Vitae. Perhaps Volshe actually did need her alive.

Fondor. Kain had been there before. The first time had been as a child, tagging along with Hassan during a drop-off of supplies to one of the shipyards there. It was fine enough, as far as a city world could be. Though he had a feeling any fond memories were associated with his father, not with the world itself. Since then, however, his visits had not been so pleasant.
The Federation had been holding there recently, their military might focused on defending the planet. If she would be safe anywhere, it would be there.
Kain cared not for his own safety. If need be he could be in and out before the Federation even knew he was there.

The Empress had made her play. She was holding her ground. And though he had yet to understand why, he would not allow any of these sycophants to get close. He owed her more than even that.

He approached her, and took to her side, not far from the prisoners and yet safely outside the intended area of her protective tendrils. Flames danced in his eyes, and in the palms of his hands.


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“Do as your Empress commands,” he warned the onlookers, his voice booming with the authority of the stars. Whether it be a close friend or a sworn enemy, any that drew their weapons would become inseparable from the sands of Korriban after the Dark Messiah was done with them.

TAGS: @Admiral Volshe @Darth Kain @Hadzuska_The Jester @Darth Nathemus @Darth Xirr @Darth Solus @DarthNoxia @Drakul_Xarxes @Jihadi Quartz @Voidwalker @Ānhrā Māhnîu @Helkosh @G.Kn @Reatith Blodraald @Darth Thana @Sith_Imperios @Cardun Vrek @Darth Sedicious @DarthFeros @Darth Xxys @Volacius, @Metus, @Catalyst, @corinthia, @Reiis Invadator, @dragonsith13, @Grievance Vexx, @Arach
 

Darth Nathemus

King of Firefist
Staff member
Administrator
Jedi King
Dark Council
Jedi Council
Immortalis
IC: The Sedriss
Location: Throne Room, Sith Temple, Korriban

As the Dark Lord made his way further from the Banquet Hall, he could feel the full fury of the Force wash over him like a flood of infinite energy. It was glorious. He never realized what even a few moments could be without the slightest touch of its wellspring until this day. Never again. The next time he saw a Ysalamiri, he'd kill it.

The play here was evident. As the entourage of Empress Volshe entered the throne room antechamber, she stopped and took it all in. Even if they'd still been without their Force abilities, the Sedriss could tell she wanted that throne. He had to go through his thoughts again. Perhaps her claim was indeed stronger than Apollyon's. After all, might makes right and it was evident based on her displayed power that she eclipsed Dreadwar's Hand in almost all the important categories of power.


//She is the Emperor's widow and the mother of His heirs. She holds the loyalty of my father and even commands Force wielders outside her own alignment. If Imperial Jedi willingly follow a Sith Lady as their Empress, they must certainly have a reason. Perhaps her claim is the claim that matters most.//

But just as the Empress was waiting to claim her throne, Cordé came dashing towards the group frantically yelling for her parents and telling her mother about the executions that would soon occur. It was strange. The Sedriss did not know his sister very well, as they were raised very differently, but he did find her behavior well outside the norm. She certainly inherited their father's stoicism, something Nathemus gained more and more of as the years went by. Seeing Cordé frantic worried him greatly.

Her reasoning, however, was even stranger than her behavior. It was the Triumvirate of the Galactic Federation that was set to be executed.
//A Jedi and two politicians off the board, what could be so bad about that?// His inner musings did not show themselves externally, though. His brow did not furrow and his lip did not curl, and he awaited the order.

Her order was quite clear. The Sedriss and Lady Maladi, the Devaronian spymaster, were to protect Lord Nihl and the children at all costs. It was simply a no-brainer to him. He'd been on the receiving end of her Force Drain more than once. That was the penalty for disobeying the will of Darth Viscretus. Her power had only grown since then, he was certain. But in this moment, none of that mattered. Pretenders to the Emperor's throne would try to enter. They would try to kill and destroy.

In this instance, all that mattered to Darth Nathemus, even beyond the unity of the Sith and the fate of today's proceedings, was the safety of his family. Darth Nihl was his father. Cordé was his sister, and so long as she was with her mother, or the Beloved Prince, she'd be safe. The heirs were not only the spawn of his Emperor, but if his inkling about the engagement ring were true, would soon be his brother and sister also. The choice was clear.

Before she left, he affirmed his position, "You have my sword and my axe, Empress Viscretus. As long as I live, no harm will come to my father and your children, my family." The Dark Lord then unclasped his mighty weapons from his back and raised them in each hand. His greatsword, the Fo Kitsana, was firmly in his right hand while Asimikots, in Basic, Stormbreaker, was held tightly by the left. He then turned his head to the Devaronian and said, "Lady Maladi, it's a privilege to fight by your side. May our blades and our minds defend them."


Finally, he assured Lord Nihl. "Father, nothing will get between me and the children. As you protected me many a time in my youth, I shall do the same for Primordius and Deianara."

TAG: @Darth Dreadwar @Admiral Volshe @Darth Kain @Hadzuska_The Jester @Darth Xirr @Darth Solus @DarthNoxia @Drakul_Xarxes @Jihadi Quartz @Voidwalker @Ānhrā Māhnîu @Helkosh @G.Kn @Reatith Blodraald @Darth Thana @Sith_Imperios @Cardun Vrek @Darth Sedicious @DarthFeros @Darth Xxys @Volacius @Metus @Catalyst
 

Volacius

Active member
IC: Darth Volacius, Scourge of the Jedi
The Banquet Hall, Sith Temple, Korriban

Volacius casually stifled a chuckle as he listened to Darth Thana speak, describing him as a common soldier obsessed with war and nothing else. In spite of her targeted insult, he couldn’t help but feel amused. Could Thana really be so foolish as to believe that his ruthless campaign against the ancient enemy of the Sith was not beneficial to the Sith as a whole? He considered the possibility for a moment, but quickly tossed it aside. The average simpleton wasn’t capable of ascending to the rank of Sith Master. Volacius knew full well of what it took to claw one’s way to such heights, and he knew that by virtue of its design every step of a Sith hopeful’s journey was meant to break them. The weak, the cowardly, the painfully stupid. No one who embodied these attributes could truly rise to such incredible heights as these, to claim the ever-so-coveted title of ‘Darth’ for themselves.

Ideally, at least.

The Mirialan Sith Master had to admit that the various pretenders vying for Dreadwar’s vacant throne were fine examples of the failures of the Sith Order. Clearly, there were still improvements to be made to the system, changes that—once implemented—would truly weed out such unworthy filth and at last purify the Sith and the Empire from all petty squabbling and sickening decadence.

Skyllan carried the conversation forward, describing with simile the process of apprenticeship. It was just as well that they decided to change the subject, as Volacius didn’t feel the need to dignify Thana’s comments with a response. The S’kytri chuckled upon choosing a flattering comparison for themself, then glanced in his direction, a clear yet subtle sign they were interested to hear their former master’s thoughts.

“I could not have put it better myself, my former apprentice,” Volacius responded pleasantly. “Anyone who would even suggest otherwise might draw wisdom from—”

The Mirialan Sith was cut off mid sentence by the address of Lady Apollyon, who was directing all those in attendance to leave the creature comforts of the banquet hall for a spectacle Volacius had been looking forward to since the caramel-skinned Sith Lady had given her opening statements: The execution of her imprisoned Federation leadership. Skyllan spoke up once more to suggest they move with the crowd, however Volacius did not need the encouragement of his old apprentice for that. Taking up stride a pace behind Skyllan, and a pace up and to the left from Thana, the Mirialan Admiral walked through the halls of the Temple with his fellow Sith until the harrowing rays of Horuset bathed his golden flesh in its blood red glow.

Having finally departed from the effective range of the loathsome Ysalamiri, Volacius was invigorated by the returning presence of the Force. The sheer saturation of the Dark side of the Force, no doubt caused by the unusual concentration of its most powerful practitioners, was almost staggering, and Volacius relished in its embrace like a diver leaping head first into an inky sea. His full power was once again at his disposal, however the same could be said for everyone else who had accompanied Apollyon to just outside the Sith Temple.

Volacius attempted to ascertain the best position from which to view the executions, noting as he approached that Lord Kain, Lord Catalyst and Lord Drakul Xarxes were already outside. As he passed his former master, the son of Abeloth gave him a look that demanded his full attention. Kain’s message was barely a whisper, but even with such a soft tone it conveyed the deepest gravity.

“A word of warning, my former apprentice. To side against Volshe is to side with death. And I want you to live.”

The words settled slowly inside Volacius’ head, and the Mirialan was careful to keep his mind shielded from anyone that would be so bold as to try and read his thoughts.

To side against Volshe is to side with death. Distasteful as it was to consider Volshe as his leader after her gross misstep in the banquet hall not long ago, at least now he was certain of Kain’s allegiance. Now, he knew who at least some of his allies were, too.

Finding his place in the mass of spectators, Volacius caught his first glimpses of the damned, the wretched Federation prisoners Apollyon had described earlier. To his eye, none of them were anything special, not that he bothered to examine them in detail. Truthfully, the only facet of these foul individuals that meant anything to him was that they were his enemies. Their exact role was immaterial; Jedi, politicians, military commanders, they could have been fresh Federation recruits for all the hulking Mirialan cared. All that mattered was the certainty that he was about to witness their excruciating deaths. That is, until Volshe ordered the guards to stand down.

Standing tall and proud—regal even, for those who cared about such meaningless opulence—Volshe, Empress of the New Galactic Empire, asserted her claim over the Sith as a whole. And she demanded that the Federation leaders be spared.


The pure, unbridled rage Volacius felt in that moment was all encompassing, potent as the world-shattering blast of a superlaser. The Mirialan Sith was so incensed, so completely enraged and insulted that he could not have kept his emotions from boiling to the surface even if he had wanted to try and hide them. Who did Volshe think she was? First, she brought sworn enemies of the Sith to the sacred Temple, all to serve as her personal bodyguards, and now she had the audacity to command that some of the last of the Federation’s leadership be spared their rightful fate?! His face contorted into a scowl more deadly than a turbolaser barrage, his teeth gnashed and his eyes ablaze with all the heat and doom of a blazing star about to go supernova. Darth Volacius, Rear Admiral of the Sith fleet, the Scourge of the Jedi, was a mere breath away from challenging not only her ruling in regards to the prisoners, but Volshe’s very authority and fidelity to the Sith Order itself. And yet, Kain’s words echoed in his mind once more.

To side against Volshe is to side with death. And I want you to live.

But surely she has lost her mind! Volacius protested silently, his fury still threatening to boil over and explode into action.

To side against Volshe is to side with death. And I want you to live.

She has no right to keep them from their rightful fate!

To side against Volshe is to side with DEATH.

Though it took every ounce of strength, the energy from every single cell in his body and all the self-control from all sources of his life that he could muster together, Volacius narrowly managed to hold his tongue.

To side against Volshe is to side with death, Volacius allowed the words to repeat over and over, compounding upon one another in a vain attempt to drown out the storm that was his vitriolic spite.

To side against Volshe is to side with death, and I very much want to live.

Volacius might not trust, or in fact even respect Kára Volshe as of this moment, but in order to ensure his own survival, he would do whatever it took. Even if it meant joining someone who, to his eyes, appeared to be a traitor. Volacius still would not side with Volshe, he owed himself that much. But as his former master took up a position beside the Empress and reiterated her command to the massed Sith, Volacius knew what he was really doing was siding with Lord Kain.

Skyllan had addressed him quietly as the crowd of Sith had their own reactions, suggesting that perhaps Volshe was making a convoluted play to draw the remnants of the Federation into a trap. Volacius found that difficult to believe, but for the sake of salvaging his composure and keeping his begrudging allegiance hidden, he did his best to respond. A flat “perhaps,” growled through clenched teeth was all he could manage to utter.

TAG: @Darth Dreadwar @Admiral Volshe @Darth Kain @Hadzuska_The Jester @Darth Nathemus @Darth Xirr @Darth Solus @DarthNoxia @Drakul_Xarxes @Jihadi Quartz @Voidwalker @Ānhrā Māhnîu @Helkosh @G.Kn @Reatith Blodraald @Darth Thana @Sith_Imperios @Cardun Vrek @Darth Sedicious @DarthFeros @Darth Xxys @Metus, @Catalyst, @corinthia, @Reiis Invadator, @dragonsith13, @Grievance Vexx, @Arach
 
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corinthia

Administrator
Staff member
Administrator
Immortalis
IC: Imperatrix Hesper
Sibyl II, arriving at Korriban

The arrival into realspace was palpable beneath the Sibyl II's decking; the vibration under their feet reached a fever pitch before abruptly vanishing, suggesting the Destroyer was now gracefully swanning through the celestial soup surrounding Korriban. No doubt it was passing all manner of other ships, too, considering the sheer volume of guests attending the feast taking place far, far below them. Hesper sucked in a sharp breath through her teeth as they briskly walked the length of the ship. She balled her hands into fists deep in the folds of her gown; was she prepared for the chaos she may be about to unleash on the Sith?

Exhaling, she decided it didn't matter—that the Sith would do what they do. She could already see it unfolding.

They arrived in the shuttle hangar, and Ontos bowed to her, indicating the shuttle that was prepared for them. She turned her head minutely towards him to speak. "Bring Lord Draconis with us; Lords Grievance and Invadator shall oversee his escort. After all, he was their master." She cast her eyes towards the cyborg and the armored woman beside her. They had not yet been told why their master was in chains; doubtless they were wondering why.

Lifting a hand, she beckoned to the Sith Knights who had emerged from the Sibyl's brig, a subjugated and chained Draconis in tow. His head hung, chin resting against his chest, as the Knights prodded him towards the shuttle, directing him into the hold. Hesper's eyes followed Draconis as he went—in her memory, the flash of plasma blades among darkness was stark, frightening. She swallowed dryly. Even bound, he frightened her.

It was a miracle he was still captive, although Hesper had made sure to set his path in such a manner that he would not impede their travels; above all else, the message she carried was paramount. She could not afford anything which would slow her.

"Come, we have no further time to waste," she said to her entourage, watching as Draconis' bindings were secured, locked down so he could not bolt.

Gathering up her skirts and veil, she boarded the shuttle. Arach, Invadator, Grievance, and her guard, Lieutenant Valantin, followed suit. Shortly thereafter, the shuttle scuttled out from the Sibyl II's hangar, knifing through the inky black space and plunging towards the red jewel of Korriban, whose sands glimmered even from such a distance.

Resting against the doorframe into the cockpit, Hesper trained her eyes on those in the shuttle; in addition to the six who had boarded, there was a retinue of Hesperian Guards, two strike teams of fifteen each, their silver pikes and dark phrik armor glinting dull and sinister in the shuttle's dim interior lights. Their veiled heads were bowed in reverence towards Hesper as she looked them over. Sorin had taken up his position at their helm, the only one who kept his eyes locked on Hesper. She returned the stare, feeling the heavy concern in his gaze. Then, looking to her right, she eyed Draconis: what a threat he posed to her… as difficult as it was to keep him under lock and key, it was her only option.

She then gazed at the Lords and Lady; their grim faces were cast in ominous shadow.

"We are flying into discordance," Hesper said, addressing their unspoken worries. "Stay at my side; this feast which my old contemporary Apollyon has put on can only end in chaos, and my claim to the throne can only be met with resistance. After all… most won't know me."

The shuttle quaked as they entered into Korriban's atmosphere.

"Stay at the ready. Lord Grievance, General Invadator, keep Draconis close. Lady Arach, Lieutenant Valantin—be my support." She bowed her head. "I am relying on you all."

Turning, she stepped into the cockpit, leaning over the shoulders of the pilot and co-pilot, who wore crisp uniforms bearing the Priestess' sigil on the lapel.

"There," Hesper said, pointing to a clearing in the sand outside the transparisteel viewport. "Set the shuttle down there." In her chest, fearful intention oscillated, her heartbeat quick and light beneath her skin. The words she would say burned in her mind, and she grit her teeth. The shuttle pilot began to turn, positioning the craft for a descent and landing where the Imperatrix had requested.

She pushed through the retinue of Guardsmen and past her comrades, and slammed her hand on the boarding ramp's button; with great gouts of steam, the hydraulics hissed open, and a gust of wild wind swept through the shuttle, ruffling cloaks and tunics, and sending Hesper's excessively long gossamer veil into a whirlwind of motion. Grabbing onto a strut, she turned to look at those behind her: "Follow me once this shuttle lands. Stay close, stay alert." She smirked. "We have a feast to ruin."

And then, to the shock of those aboard the shuttle, Hesper jumped.

Plummeting from the shuttle, her obsidian raiment whipped and billowed about her, streaming like the tail of a dark comet. She kept her eyes trained on the portmanteau below; the glistening guillotine, the three bagged prisoners, Volshe, and the others. And, reaching out through the Force and their forged bonds, she brushed against Xarxes, Skyllan, and Nacros, alerting them to her arrival—at last!, they would think, a swell of dark power bolstering them. At last, they would see their sovereign in the flesh!

Hesper twisted in the air, calculating her trajectory for her landing; the shuttle followed behind her. The red sands below raced closer and closer, and Hesper began to build the Force around herself, buffering her fall and wrapping herself in the strength of her power.

Then, which a thunderous noise, she landed on her feet in a crouch, a shockwave of crimson sand rippling away from her. Her black veil had come loose during her descent, and it now fluttered to the ground behind her. Rising, she leveled her wild eyes at the crowd before her; her golden hair streamed around her, moving in the wind she generated. She was a vision of severity and ethereality, darkly radiant and brimming with desperate purpose. Her mind was now aflame with the message she had come to deliver! Behind her, the shuttle touched down, and out filed her Hesperian Guards, fronted by Lord Grievance, Lord Invadator, Lady Arach, and the chained Lord Draconis.

Doubtless, she had everyone's attention now.

"Deceivers!" she hissed, her hands like claws at her side. Her usually soft voice lanced through the air, sharp in the ears of all who were present. "Pretenders to the throne! You bicker and politick while threats from beyond lurk on your very threshold. Your attentions are misplaced. You follow leaders who seek to misguide you, putting you in the path of certain death—of the certain destruction of the Sith."

"There is only one true threat to the Sith. And quarreling over the throne will get us nowhere."

Hesper cast her violent gaze across those who were gathered. Her steel and opal eyes flashed, and the dark scar across her face was stark. It would send chills down the spines of those who were weak of will.

"I have seen what is to come. The end is near."

 
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G.Kn

Active member
IC: Darth Skyllan

-----

Skyllan heard their old master's 'perhaps' clearly. But with their senses open to the Force, it was what they felt from Volacius that made more of an impact. A distant memory from their apprenticeship, a duel they'd had which had ended with the mirialan conjuring a whirlwind of lightning and fire to subject the s'kytri too. Admittedly, since then they had taken the brunt of Lord Kain's pyrokinesis, and had felt true heat. But the attack Volacius had used had made more of an impact on their memory, it was the first time Skyllan had really felt and seen the power of the Force as a truly offensive tool. It had been a life changing moment.

They felt that power again now, roaring within the master warrior. That same mighty vortex had been compressed and sealed within the golden skinned sith with a degree of discipline Skyllan had rarely seen. It was quite the force to feel compressed into a person like that. If rage enhanced one's ability to tap into the darkside, then right now Volacius had a degree of power that the Winged Sith wasn't used to feeling from those with the master rank. It was impressive, and it reminded them why it was they had wanted the man to serve as their master in the first place. As one of the few people who'd taken hits from Darth Volacius AND Lord Kain, Skyllan could say quite firmly that the first took after the second.

But then that presence they had felt a moment ago entered the atmosphere. Then, unlike most landing crafts, it sped up. A surge of power filled the Ashen Sorcerer and they knew with certainty as their bond came to life - 'Hesper was coming.' Then, almost as soon as that thought registered, she was upon them. Smashing into the ground like a missile. Then the dust cleared, and there was the person they had sworn themself to. Danger oozed from her like the roar of a dragon, instilling itself in the souls of those who felt it, and by all things dark did Skyllan feel it.

Her words came over them like a rush of cold water. A sense of shame washed over Skyllan at the fact that they'd been tolerating this feast's display of posturing when there was something out there that demanded their attention. Granted, the Winged Sith didn't really know what it was, but they felt the shame anyway. That being said, they knew her words weren't directed at them in particular, the power that had swelled in them as she dropped down confirmed that much.

Very deliberately, Skyllan broke from the crowd, walking towards the High Lord steadily. Putting their back towards the majority of the crowd - though Volshe and her loyalists were still visible in their peripherals. Their winged, looking frame towering over the shorter sith. The sceptre spinned in their hand so it pointed down, and the Ashen Sorcerer dropped to one knee, the tip of the weapon burying itself into the ground as they bowed they knelt in supplication before her. "Hail Darth Hesper!" They called out, reverence clear in their raspy tone. "Hail the High Priestess of the Force!" The sorcerer continued, that same tone persisting.

"I, Darth Skyllan, pledge myself completely to you, and your Will." The voices of their Sceptre fell silent. Skyllan was a monster, an eggbreaker, a cannibal, a curse, and a sinner by any measure. But right now the only thing that mattered, was that they were hers.

-----

Tag: @Darth Dreadwar, @corinthia @Arach, @dragonsith13, @Grievance Vexx, @Reiis Invadator, @Drakul_Xarxes, @G.Kn, @Admiral Volshe, @Darth Kain, @Hadzuska_The Jester, @Darth Nathemus, @Darth Xirr, @Darth Solus, @DarthNoxia, @Jihadi Quartz, @Voidwalker, @Ānhrā Māhnîu, @Helkosh, @Reatith Blodraald, @Darth Thana, @Sith_Imperios, @Cardun Vrek, @Darth Sedicious, @DarthFeros, @Darth Xxys, @Metus, @Catalyst, @Nacros_Telcontare
 

Cardun Vrek

Legendary Member
Moderator
Jedi Council
IC: Darth Mavros

Temple of the New Sith Order, Korriban


---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


This isn’t what was meant to happen. Why exactly am I risking my neck for our sworn enemies? There must be a good reason.

I hope.


The Empress seemed slightly taken aback by the news that reached her party, and that was never a good sign. The Federation leaders were to die. Good riddance. Mavros thought to himself. He would happily watch them die, knowing with their deaths, the last obstacles to Sith dominance would be removed. The Galaxy would be as it should be; ruled by the strongest, with the weak serving. That was why he could tolerate the presence of the Imperial Knights, for they served a Sith. They recognised the natural order.

So why would the prospective Empress of the Sith want to save the three people most opposed to the Sith Order?

There had to be a reason. He knew the Empress had been acting very carefully in the past few months since her re-emergence. He had been sent off for months hunting down something she had been desperate to acquire. There’s something more at play here. She has a longer game in mind. Saving the Federation leaders would turn many Sith against Viscretus. Many of them were fanatics, wishing to purge the Galaxy as quickly as possible. From his limited experience of the Empress, she was more calculated, more akin to a Dejarik master. If she wanted to save the Federation’s leaders, and turn many Sith against her in the process, it was because she had a very good reason. After all, the New Galactic Empire and the Federation remnants had been embroiled in bloody conflict for months. If the Empress was willing to save their hides, she must have some use for them.

Mavros didn’t have much time to ponder exactly why Empress Viscretus was acting as she was, for she had requested that all those with her aside from Darth Nihl, Darth Maladi and Darth Nathemus accompany her to the execution square. I knew this bloody feast would end in nothing good. He had to hope that the Empress could manage to tame the bloodthirsty urges inherent in many of the Sith gathered here. Or that she could kill the ones who protested loudest. He followed along as the group made their way out into the execution square.

The Force had returned to him.

Thank the Gods for that.

The prisoners knelt on the block. Mavros could recognise them by sight. He’d seen those figures enough times on the damn Holonet. The Sith had all gathered around, awaiting the executions eagerly, their attention set on the block. They wanted blood. Their hatred spewed out of them, feeding the hungry demon that was the Dark Side of the force. I honestly can’t blame them. If it were up to me, I’d be televising this to every damn system from here to the edges of known space. Mavros edged off slightly from the main group, standing at the edge of Viscretus’ supporters. He couldn’t help but notice the black armoured stormtroopers patrolling around the temple. There were a few dozen, all well armed. Could be a problem if things go south.

Or, maybe not…

The barebones of a plan was forming inside Mavros’ head, but he turned his attention back to the Empress. She stated her title. The official claim was made. And the order was given. The reaction was one Mavros expected; outrage. The Sith wanted to see a few good deaths, and delight in the suffering of their enemies. Mercy was a foreign concept to many of them, even though Mavros hoped this was not a moment of mercy, but instead part of a larger plan.

One that eventually would end with the three people here dying, preferably slowly and painfully.

Lord Kain joined the Empress, and gave his clear instructions to the others that had gathered on the terrace. His tone implied that those who refused his instruction would not live enough to regret it. Mavros felt a slight wave of relief that Kain was an ally, for now at least. He glanced over at the other Sith. This could go in a number of ways. He could die here, if he wasn’t careful. Maybe, if he was quick enough, he could slip away, board the Dark Wind and...and do what? Hide? Spend the rest of his life running? At least I would be alive, and not dead. He thought to himself.

No. He had made his choice.

Either he would die here, or reap the rewards of standing with Viscretus in this crucial moment. His left hand reflexively brushed against the inactive hilt of his lightsaber, finger resting on the activation switch, ready. He glanced again at the stormtroopers. And the plan he had hastily formulated only mere moments ago returned to him. We need all the help we can get. Even if it's just bodies to throw at our enemies. He stepped further back, hoping that the attention of the crowd would be fixed on Empress Viscretus and Lord Kain, and that no one would be paying attention to what that slightly obscure Sith Master Darth Mavros was doing.

And then, a new arrival quite literally leapt onto the scene. Mavros did not recognise the woman who jumped down from the shuttle that had just entered the skies above Korriban, but she must have been someone of some importance, given the guards that quickly disembarked the shuttle behind her in formation, followed by others who were clearly strong in the force. Her words were ominous. ‘Threats from beyond’. I wonder...is that why the Empress acts as she does? Does she know something? Or is this woman just insane?
Darth Skyllan didn’t seem to think so. They stepped forward and pledged themselves to Darth Hesper. So that’s who the newcomer was. The ‘Butcher of Coruscant’. Mavros knew the name, but that was it.

In the end, it didn’t matter right now, nor did it change his immediate plan. He reached out with the force, attempting to touch the minds of the Stormtroopers gathered around the execution block. His thoughts would overtake theirs. They were minions of the Sith, their purpose was to serve.

They will serve me. They will die for me.

As he reached out with the force he subtly began to move his hands in a deliberate motion, extending them out and swaying them. He tried to hide the movements behind his cloak, hoping that anyone who glanced in his direction thought that he was simply adjusting his clothing. Though, given Hespers rather dramatic arrival, he doubted anyone would look over towards him. The movements were the beginning of an Ancient Sith spell, one known and practiced only by those who devoted themselves to the arcane arts. The spell of enchantment, known in the ancient Sith tongue as Qâzoi Kyantuska, and in basic as ‘Suppress Thought’. He continued the movement, preparing to say the actual enchantment, whilst continuing to touch the minds of the troopers one by one.

Even if he only got a few, they would be meat shields to throw at the others.

Power used- Qâzoi Kyantuska- 3 (beginning)


TAG: @Darth Dreadwar, @corinthia @Arach, @dragonsith13, @Grievance Vexx, @Reiis Invadator, @Drakul_Xarxes, @G.Kn, @Admiral Volshe, @Darth Kain, @Hadzuska_The Jester, @Darth Nathemus, @Darth Xirr, @Darth Solus, @DarthNoxia, @Jihadi Quartz, @Voidwalker, @Ānhrā Māhnîu, @Helkosh, @Reatith Blodraald, @Darth Thana, @Sith_Imperios, @G.Kn , @Darth Sedicious, @DarthFeros, @Darth Xxys, @Metus, @Catalyst, @Nacros_Telcontare
 
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Catalyst

The Cunning Linguist
Moderator
Underworld Ruler
Immortalis
IC Lord Catalyst
The Execution Grounds, Korriban
Tension was building in the air as Kain stepped up to Volshe's side and made his allegiance public. His support was not a surprise to Catalyst, but he couldn't help but be somewhat disgusted at the unquestioning obedience that his young friend was displaying. His hand was beginning to hurt from squeezing upon his saber hilt. He looked around, his mind beginning to panic like an animal backed into a corner and ready to lash out.

A shadow in the sky caught his eye.

The distinctive outline of a shuttle blotted out the sun ever so briefly as it bared down on their location. It appeared something had fallen off of it and was descending much faster. Catalyst squinted against the light of Horuset, trying to discern what sort of debris had sloughed itself free of the hull, before coming to the realization that this was too fluttery to be a ship component. It was a person! Who the hell..? His curiosity was soon sated by the figure creating a crater in the crimson sand nearby. Her face rose, golden hair blowing backwards dramatically, and Catalyst finally had an opportunity to place where he had seen her before.

The Butcher of Coruscant.

Lady Hesper, someone he had only heard of by name and reputation at this point, had returned to Korriban. Her shuttle settled to the ground behind her, and more dark figures emerged from within. Catalyst tensed, gazing upon the chained figure that was simply radiating malevolence. From the crowd behind him, the winged Sith, Skyllan, had stepped forward to pledge himself before Hesper, no doubt the first of many that would prostrate themselves before her will. Catalyst had no such intention.

His gaze leveled to Volshe, then to Apollyon, sweeping over the crowd as he made a mental note of who stood where. Things were about to get dicey, he could surmise. His gathering of Force power wasn't about to go to waste, but rather than get caught up in the chaos, his goal was to make sure an errant blow did not come his way. Leaning ever so slightly towards Xirr, he uttered a simple, heartfelt command under his breath. "Don't die, old friend." He drew a deep breath, gathering the Force around him to dispel the photons that were betraying his presence. Once he had faded from sight completely, he leapt high into the sky, the only evidence of his departure being the clouds of dust dispersing as his boots left the ground. Flipping gracefully through the air, he alighted himself on an overhanging rooftop, a much more comfortable vantage point to witness this debacle from. Let the animals tear each other apart, we'll see who makes it out.

Powers used:
Force Cloak - 5
Force Jump - 4

TAG: @Darth Dreadwar, @corinthia @Arach, @dragonsith13, @Grievance Vexx, @Reiis Invadator, @Drakul_Xarxes, @G.Kn, @Admiral Volshe, @Darth Kain, @Hadzuska_The Jester, @Darth Nathemus, @Darth Xirr, @Darth Solus, @DarthNoxia, @Jihadi Quartz, @Voidwalker, @Ānhrā Māhnîu, @Helkosh, @Reatith Blodraald, @Darth Thana, @Sith_Imperios, @Cardun Vrek, @Darth Sedicious, @DarthFeros, @Darth Xxys, @Metus, @G.Kn, @Nacros_Telcontare
 

Admiral Volshe

Legendary Member
NGE Empress
IC: Empress Volshe
The Execution Grounds, Korriban


"Deceivers! There is only one true threat to the Sith. And quarreling over the throne will get us nowhere."

"I have seen what is to come. The end is near."

Empress Volshe had been taken aback by the sudden projectile of a woman careening to the ground, as she imagined the rest of the crowd had been. But that was all that took her aback - her words were not surprising in the slightest.

It was not her choice to quarrel over the throne. It was Apollyon’s. If Apollyon had simply allowed her to take the throne, as they agreed, there would be no quarrel. The order succession would have already been resolved. Instead, she was faced with the claims of various low lifes and insignificants. And worse, Darth Krayt.

She watched the blonde woman for a moment - her eyes flicking from her feet to her head, assessing the small statured woman thoroughly. There was a flicker of disdain. She knew who Hesper was - it was near impossible to not.

While she burst into the chaotic scene claiming knowledge of the same threats Volshe knew of, that Volshe had extensively machinated preparations against, Volshe inwardly snarled.

You have complicated my design, she thought, the words tinged with venom. She had slaughtered the senate - and that had thrown Coruscant into Chaos. Volshe’s near decade of preparation, her residual plots from the One’s conquest to infiltrate and conquer, every thread she had carefully woven...they had been reduced to ash. And now, she spoke about infighting and greater threat. It almost felt hypocritical.

It took a moment for her to relinquish her irritation. The woman had perhaps not known. Killing her for it would be as counterproductive, as would killing the others who had partaken in such missions given out by the short-lived Emperor Insipid. Insipid had a penchant for destroying her creations - his name certainly matched his intellect.

They all had their use, should they serve the cause she had been restlessly, to the point of insanity, devoting herself to galactic domination.

She relaxed, visibly, and turned to look at the woman. Her demeanour had shifted from a tinge of rage to mild perturbation. At least she had quelled any incoming rebellion, for now. The shock of the situation was certainly going to drench any anger Volshe had stoked, and Hesper’s words gave an explanation for her behaviour...as well as justification for the end of the infighting.

“Lady Hesper,” she began, her voice neither saccharine nor malevolent, for once. It was quiet, however, intended as a gentle summation of her knowledge. “I know well what threats lurk beyond the veil of space.”

She lifted her hand, the glittering signet of Dreadwar there on her finger. “The once-Emperor has entrusted me to face them, as his Empress. I have seen them with my own eyes, touched them with my own flesh. I have spoken to them, both as they haunted my visions and as they came to me in form corporeal. I have raised armies in my time here, I have sent my most loyal to face potential death to aid us.”

For a moment, she was awash with the darknesses she had witnessed. The visions that had wracked her, the touch of the ones most malevolent, staining her skin with inky blackness, taunting her into her own demise. Her stomach turned, her pupils narrowing to pinpricks. Her skin was ablaze with the wounds once inflicted upon her, scars smouldering where they yet dotting the porcelain.

She knew...but how did she know?

She had not been with her, in the depths of space unknown. She had not seen the cloistered meetings, the hushed halls, plotting the Galaxy’s demise. The death and destruction, rot and decay.

She had not seen the eye of obsidian ichor and tendrils of serpentine horror that haunted even her waking dreams.

She had not felt the torment that Kára Volshe had, tethered only to sanity by her most trusted loyalists.

Her voice rose, yet lowered into warning, though the velvet softness remained. She turned to face Apollyon, now.

If she knew, there was danger. She did not understand, but there was a chance they could not trust Hesper. The chance was not small. It was a chance she could not take. She would need to isolate the woman from the crowd. Luckily, such was quite easily accomplished.

“Now that you understand, Lady Apollyon, they will bring the Federation leaders to my throne. At once. You may keep them
restrained.” There was no room for negotiation. She clearly expected no resistance. At this point, she would kill even Zelashiel should she object. She beckoned for the Knights to retrieve the prisoners.

“Lady Hesper, I invite you, as one aware of the situation, to join me. I similarly tire of this infighting when there is much greater at stake. There is much to discuss.”

Volshe moved to saunter away, slowly. She was going to take advantage of the chaos. Not simply for her own benefit, but for the benefit of the Sith. She would not give them time to question. Most would not have the will to.

Hesper certainly did not know she had not already claimed the throne formally, and Apollyon would not question it if she was at all intelligent. She already had supported Volshe’s claim, now was not the time to rescind. Krayt...similarly would not question if he had any wisdom, he would scurry back to his minuscule order as the womp rat he was. Now he was most definitely insignificant. She paused after two steps, and looked to her celestial son. “Lord Kain, as you know all, as I do...will you join us?”

TAG: @Darth Dreadwar, @corinthia @Arach, @dragonsith13, @Grievance Vexx, @Reiis Invadator, @Drakul_Xarxes, @G.Kn, @Catalyst , @Darth Kain, @Hadzuska_The Jester, @Darth Nathemus, @Darth Xirr, @Darth Solus, @DarthNoxia, @Jihadi Quartz, @Voidwalker, @Ānhrā Māhnîu, @Helkosh, @Reatith Blodraald, @Darth Thana, @Sith_Imperios, @Cardun Vrek, @Darth Sedicious, @DarthFeros, @Darth Xxys, @Metus, @G.Kn, @Nacros_Telcontare
 
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Darth Solus

Member
IC: Darth Solus, The Consulate of Carrion

Location: Korriban


The others gabbed, Solus had nothing to say. Not in this moment at least. Choosing one’s words was arguably one of the most useful skills a Sith could learn. It likely had saved Solus’ life along the way. However, in this moment the lack of speech was more a lack of contribution. The conversations on the way to a meeting were of little interest to the Consulate. He felt no need to catch up, or even inquire. All that was to be said would be said upon reaching their destination. No personal interest would matter. Nor should it. Solus knew too well about personal interests not mattering. It’s for the good of the Empire! It’s for your troops! It’s for the best… it’s always for the best. Everyone knows what’s best until they are wrong. Solus sighed lightely as his thoughts raced. Pieces were moving around him and he could not keep track of them all, but another moved was about to be made.



The slapping of shoes on stone forced Solus to look over his shoulder. Someone was coming for them. Not a threat, but someone that knew exactly who she was approaching and someone who had a directive in mind.



“Mother! Mother! Father! You must come with me. Now. Now! There is an execution. Of the Federation leaders!”

Solus turned to regard Volshe. The woman had stopped. The wheels in her mind turning. Her hand had been forced. Executing federation leaders is a bold choice. Killing them would cause a power vacuum, but may also force the Sith to fall at Apollyon’s feet. Solus grinned behind his mask as Volshe directed her closer followers. It seems as though action must be taken. Solus continued to watch as Volshe addressed those that had followed her.

“The rest of you, follow me. You will have to indulge your trust in me. I have trusted you for the last many months, I know we have common goal. I know well you do not understand what I am about to do. That you will have desired to see the deaths of our enemies, as I would, in a different place and different time. But I assure you, it is for the greater good. I assure you, the Sith are always, and have always been my priority. Your survival, the survival of the Sith is paramount to me. And I implore you, now in this moment of great importance both to the Sith, and the galaxy, to stand and fight by my side.”

Trust was not something sith did well. In fact it was something the Jedi seemed to have over the Sith. They could usually trust the other. The fact that Volshe was trusting any of those around her seemed to speak volumes, but now the Commandant was being called to action. He was being asked to go along with missions he knew nothing about. Intentions that were only said to be in line with his own. How could this woman expect anything from him? How could she say she had trusted us for months and use that as if it gains her leverage? She claims the Sith are her priority yet marches in with Jedi at her side? Solus turned his gaze to his apprentice. Solus did not hate the jedi, he simply disagreed with them. Unlike many Sith around him, he was never mistreated by the jedi. Nor was he ever a Jedi himself. He was Sith. Born and raised. Perhaps that is what drove his loyalty and perhaps that is what drove his disgust for Apollyon. He would not side with the toy od Dreadwar.



“Reatith… be ready.”



As he spoke Solus took his first steps to follow Volshe, his own hands grazing his sabers upon his belt. Even unignited he could hear their haunted screams.

“Cordé. You will tell Lord Kain of my will. If this should devolve, he will save Sia, however he can. He will take her to Fondor.”

Volshe’s words struck the Consulate of Carrion. She’s unsure. The realization meant that fighting was only a possibility not an inevitability. The Commandant hoped it would not come to that. In order to be successful he believed they needed to be on a united front. One Sith, One Purpose, One Enemy.
****************************************************************************************************************************************************************

Before them the doors swung open to the terraced courtyard. The connection with the force washed over them and in a flash Solus’ aura returned. Static danced across his skin and filled the air around him. Usually, it was just an aura, but now it mixed with true unease. His electrical aura spilling around them creating the anxiety and spine-tingling sensation of action. Of a hunt. People were nervous and that could be felt without the force. As the force returned his own mind barrier slammed shut. Lightning crossing the doors that guarded his mind and extending to the floor with every step.

The Commandant watched as Volshe and her guards took center stage, signaling to Reatith to stay close, any who knew it knew the signal was Galactic Sign Language, a staple in Solus’ training. Volshe’s voice boomed above the crowd.



“I am Darth Viscretus, Empress of the Sith, wife of Emperor Dreadwar, and mother of his heirs. I carry another heir within me. I am the true Empress, Chêra Sith’ari, by issue and marital right, as well as my own right, and I command you all put an end to this spectacle at once.”



Shock sprung Solus’ eyes open. Pregnant!?!



“They will not die, not now. I require them.”



Solus’ head nodded lightly and his eyes scanned the crowd. Catalyst was….gone. Powers were being used. People are maneuvering. Catalyst? A vantage point? Xxys likely in the shadows, as an assassin would be. Solus turned back to Volshe, watching her back. At the very least the child would not be harmed. Not here at least.

Something descended rapidly, drawing the attention of the crowd and cutting Volshe’s speech off. Hesper. Another piece in the game.

"Deceivers!"

Solus’ eyes narrowed again. The Butcher had plunged coruscant into chaos after her little escapade. An act that Solus truly believed was a tactical blunder and the action of just another Sith bloodlust.

“Pretenders to the throne! You bicker and politick while threats from beyond lurk on your very threshold. Your attentions are misplaced. You follow leaders who seek to misguide you, putting you in the path of certain death—of the certain destruction of the Sith. There is only one true threat to the Sith. And quarreling over the throne will get us nowhere. I have seen what is to come. The end is near."



The commandant turned his gaze back to Volshe. Hesper’s rave held knowledge. Something was amiss and Solus was not in favor of being unaware. He would not pledge loyalty to the raving mad woman, but information must be shared.



“Lady Hesper, I know well what threats lurk beyond the veil of space.”



Information must be shared. LEARN.



“Now that you understand, Lady Apollyon, they will bring the Federation leaders to my throne. At once. You may keep them restrained.”



Solus stepped aside to allow Volshe to pass when she returned to the doors. They were not out of the woods, but she seemed as though she thought that she had placed a nail in the coffin here. If violence were to erupt she would not be the physical aggressor, only the vocal one. Political deniability. Words are not violence. If someone acts… they become the villain. As she passed Volshe seemed to call over her shoulders.



“Lady Hesper, I invite you, as one aware of the situation, to join me. I similarly tire of this infighting when there is much greater at stake. There is much to discuss.”



The Commandant directed his gaze towards Volshe. Much? A threat? Are your advisor’s to attend?



FORCE POWERS USED:

Electrical Aura-4

Mind Shield-4

TAGS: @Darth Dreadwar, @corinthia @Arach, @dragonsith13, @Grievance Vexx, @Reiis Invadator, @Drakul_Xarxes, @G.Kn, @Catalyst , @Darth Kain, @Hadzuska_The Jester, @Darth Nathemus, @Darth Xirr, @DarthNoxia, @Jihadi Quartz, @Voidwalker, @Ānhrā Māhnîu, @Helkosh, @Reatith Blodraald, @Darth Thana, @Sith_Imperios, @Cardun Vrek, @Darth Sedicious, @DarthFeros, @Darth Xxys, @Metus, @G.Kn, @Nacros_Telcontare
 
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Arach

Active member
IC- Darth Arach
Sybil II’s hanger

Arach prepared herself for a fight as she followed Hesper to the hanger. She reflexively braided her long black hair, and ran her hands along her belt, making sure all of her weapons were attatched. She remembered how these feasts usually went. Sith were generally volatile in the best of times, now could hardly be considered as the best.

"Bring Lord Draconis with us; Lords Grievance and Invadator shall oversee his escort. After all, he was their master." At the sound of Hesper’s command, Arach snapped her head up. Draconis? Why is he in the brig?

It wasn’t too long before she felt a chill run down her spine. She looked over her shoulder at the familiar Sith being lead in chains. A memory flashed in her mind’s eye of battling him and Cruor on the sands of Korriban. It was a dim memory, one that she easily shook off. She still felt a shaft of concern, but made herself turn away. The sounds of his chains being secured seemed loud in her ears.

"Come, we have no further time to waste.”

Arach wordlessly followed Hesper into the waiting shuttle.
——————————————————
Korriban

Well, she certainly grabbed their attention.
Arach thought wryly, not fighting the slight half- smile. She exited the shuttle, briefly blinking the sand out of her golden eyes.

The mirth she felt died the moment she set foot on the ground. The tension and mounting hostility was more thick than she expected. Arach felt her body start to tense in preparation of a potential fight as she took in the scene in front of her.

One had already pledged allegiance to Hesper, which took Arach aback slightly. There were plenty more who were hostile, however. Directed at who or what she couldn’t say. What was for certain was the subtle use of the Force she felt. She kept her senses on alert in case of an attack.

She was aware of Hesper being addressed. And as the queenly woman invited Hesper to follow her, Arach shot a glance at the Imperatrix and sent a silent warning. There was much more going on beneath the surface.

Tags: @Darth Dreadwar, @Admiral Volshe, @corinthia, @dragonsith13, @Grievance Vexx, @Drakul_Xarxes, @Reiis Invadator, @Darth Kain, @Catalyst, @@Hadzuska_The Jester, @Darth Nathemus, @Darth Xirr, @DarthNoxia, @Jihadi Quartz, @Voidwalker, @Ānhrā Māhnîu, @Helkosh, @Reatith Blodraald, @Darth Thana, @Sith_Imperios, @Cardun Vrek, @Darth Sedicious, @DarthFeros, @Darth Xxys, @Metus, @G.Kn, @Nacros_Telcontare
 
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...

Well-known member
Immortalis
Darth Cruor
Bestiary, Wrath of Vader, hyperspace

As guileful as any Sith in the galaxy, and more powerful than a vast majority of those serving the Empire now, this was the greatest of his servants. Known by the name Shadowfall in the common tongue, Draa’zekyl in its own, and few who learned either lived to tell others. The beast had carried it’s master into countless conflicts over the centuries it had served him, and fought as passionately as well, entire armies had fallen before the combined might of dragon and Taral.

“Draa’zekyl” The Taral spoke the true name of the Star Dragon, a sign of respect for the warbound companion for he knew it loathed the common tongue translation. The Dark Lord descended all three steps in one stride, his metal clad boots splashing in the murky water as he approached Teraktassi. The dragon’s breath was hot and enveloped them both even from this distance, Teraktassi was aware that if it chose it could expel a gout of superheated gas far more destructive than any turbo laser, and that thought nearly made him shiver in fear. Darth Cruor sensed the red skinned Teraktassi’s anxiety and took it in, savored it for a few brief moments, before turning his focus back to the colossal dragon before him.

The Dark Lord walked deeper into the darkness of the chamber, the splash from each step echoing ominously, until he reached the dragon. It’s eye remained cautiously fixed on Darth Cruor as even it feared it’s master, opening its mouth slightly revealing teeth as long and sharp as any Sith Sword and let loose a long hiss as a forked tongue flicked about. “Release the bindings, Teraktassi!” Lord Cruor commanded. The red skinned servant acknowledged his command and quickly set out to obey, and soon the sound of heavy chains crashing to the water covered floor began to fill the chamber. Draa’zekyl began to stretch and test the limits of its motion, but even in this massive chamber it could not fully extend its wings and he growled in irritation.

“Soon.” Darth Cruor reassured the beast.

Tag: @Darth Dreadwar
 
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skira

Administrator
Staff member
Administrator
Final Triumvirate
Dark Council
IC: Sol Kira
Sith Temple, Korriban

At the sound of Marcus’ voice, Sol stopped in her tracks. She began to shoot her head back around to look at him, her hair flipping like a sweep of red fire similar to the anger her eyes carried. In an instant her yellow eyes turned a deep amber, her temples aching as her power kicked in. Deadly Sight, no high level but it would cause the overseer pain. But her turn didn’t happen.

She stopped dead in her tracks, it was as if an invisible force had twisted her head and the rest of her body back. She began to feel dizzy.

“You. Will. Not. Do. That.” The demon said in her mind, and her jaw clenched. “Be kriffing pissed all you want, you will not use deadly sight against him. We need to get out of here in one piece. Now put it away, and address your superior with respect.”

“How did you do that?” She thought back to him, placing her hand on her head. She felt like an aura of death had washed over her, as if any second she’d collapse into nothingness. “I thought you couldn’t control anything.”


“I grow used to your body with time, my child. You will learn that there are many things I can do as time goes on.”

As her eyes turned back to their yellow shade, she slowly turned, her jaw relaxing. Perhaps it was the overseer’s tone, or even just his presence that put her so on edge.

In short he was… icky.

But the demon was right, and Sol knew that. No matter how much she’d want to attack the man, she was at a severe disadvantage. “My many thanks, Overseer Marcus. It’s easy for us apprentices to get lost in such a large temple. We shall report to the dungeons after our business elsewhere is dealt with.” A lie, but she wasn’t so sure any of them would be making it to the dungeons. The message her and Loharr had received seemed urgent, but her directions were clear. Find the group, or go to the throne room. Thankfully, the directions to the latter had been provided in the message.

She walked slowly towards the first steps, wary that he would come for them and try to stop them. Her hand fell naturally to the hilt where her dagger laid. She hoped, no, prayed that he wouldn’t try to stop them, but she couldn’t be so sure.

She reached the stairs, her hand shakily falling to the handrail. She still felt strange, as if her body wasn’t her own anymore. Volshe’s directions on where the Throne Room were clear, and if she could get down the stairs she’d be able to get their fast enough. But out of the corner of her eyes, she saw Master Xiannarr walking towards them. She moved down the steps and out of his way, and continued moving. She hoped Marcus would follow the other apprentices instead of stopping him. She quickly ran down the staircase, trying to get away from Marcus and to the Throne room as fast as she could.


Tags: @Keres Dymos @Kielor @Nacros_Telcontare @Loharr Talem @Darth Dreadwar @Undying Master Xiannarr @Zareel Jhenan´doka
 
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Grievance Vexx

Dark Lord Krigsbefallaf
Moderator
Dark Council
IC- Lord Grievance Vexx
Location- Korriban


“You need to get out of your head, Master. You worry me when you do this. How many times has this behavior gotten you into trouble?”

The voice of EV-A4-D—Vexx’s medical droid also recovered from the past—filters through his private thoughts as it comes through his comlink, beckoning him to stop trying to figure things out that are beyond his understanding at this point. Just how many times had this behavior gotten him into trouble?

“Too many,” the droid continues, “You were practically catatonic when the Priestess brought you to me for repairs from the damage you took in the service of Haretisch. I am fairly certain Lady Hesper does not need you that way now, so get your head in the game. It is time to reawaken the Krigsbefallaf your master trained you to be.”

Vexx shakes his head to clear it. His droid caretaker is actually right in this instance. He could very easily drive himself mad trying to figure things out that simply aren’t meant to be figured out. He had eventually had to let go of trying to understand the Force under Lord Draconis’s teachings in order to function as he was intended to function. He needs to do the same now. He needs to focus and he knows it. He just wishes doing this could be as easy as knowing it.

But then he hears his name fall from Hesper’s lips, giving him direction. A mission.

Orders.

At last! This is what he has needed; to be thrust headlong into a mission he can put all of his energy into; a clearly defined purpose in this time period that still feels so strange to him. He inclines his head in a single nod to the Butcher of Coruscant, understanding her orders and welcoming them. For the first time, he is allowing himself to become aware of his surroundings.

Invadator stands nearby and he glances at her, though he still does not feel compelled to speak at this time. She will sense something of a quiet acknowledgement through the Force that seems...tired. Tired, but determined. Clearly his weariness is self-induced by way of his stubborn attempts to riddle things out in his mind. Perhaps one day he will learn that such taxing attempts aren’t worth the exhaustion. However, old habits are hard to break when one has spent the majority of his life anticipating and braced for the other shoe to drop.

His indebtedness to Hesper comes to the forefront of his mind as she makes her intentions somewhat clearer and what the collective presence of all of them gathered in the shuttle is for. As his master’s name finally penetrates his overwrought mind followed by the name of his closest ally, everything hindering his fullest attention falls away. This mission, though possibly insignificant in the eyes of any other, is one with more purpose than he could have possibly hoped for. The familiarity of two beings from his past seems to finally put him at ease in the present. It doesn’t have to make sense right now. Just knowing he is not alone in whatever had happened to him revives the camaraderie he thrives on.


“I hear and obey, m’lady,” the cyborg finally speaks, inclining his head to the Imperatrix before taking a position to his master’s right side. Draconis’s signature in the Force is how he has always remembered it being: unpredictable as hell. However, this doesn’t seem to worry him. On the contrary, he finds a strange sense of security in one more thing that is familiar to him from the past.

Likewise, Reiis Invadator. Her signature is rife with energy, though she seems more in control of it now. He remembers her as being a loose cannon somewhere in the distant past when their paths had merged for a time. He has so many questions for both of these figures who had played such prominent roles in crafting who he has become...

But those questions must wait. It is time for action and nothing makes it clearer than Hesper taking a swan dive out of the shuttle. At one time, Vexx might have considered her to be mad beyond her own tolerance and her actions purely self destructive, but he knows better now. He doesn’t even need to watch to know what happens next. He can feel the Force surrounding the woman capable of shattering the walls of time and space to cushion what would have otherwise been a deadly impact with the ground.

As the shuttle lands and Vexx disembarks with the others in Hesper’s army, he holds his position flanking Draconis’s right. His eyes remain fixed on Hesper, her back to them as she addresses those who stand before her with unshakable authority. This is a far cry from the decidedly soft-spoken woman who had pulled him from a fiery demise. He isn’t surprised though. He had been able to sense this authority surrounding her being in the Force.

As the s’kytrii Sith almost immediately aligns himself with the Imperatrix, Vexx is on the alert. Skyllan could be an infiltrator, posing as an ally. This is one reason why the Kaleesh can barely stomach those who so quickly surrender to authority. It feeds the fire of his ever-present suspicions. He doesn’t let it be a distraction, however. There are far to many present with varying degrees of hostility to be distracted by a lone Sith declaring his supposed loyalty. His fiery gaze sweeps over those gathered. He can feel the tension building like a culminating storm. Tinnitus begins its high-pitched serenade inside his skull as so much Force is drawn upon by so many individuals. Were he not decades accustomed to the affliction, he might have succumbed to madness about now, but he forces himself to relax under the audio assault only he can hear, focusing his attention elsewhere on what he is certain is to become a battlefield.

Bring it on.

He is ready. His skeletal fingers brush over the various lightsaber hilts attached to his hip armor and he takes a deep, calculated breath. Familiarity. His weapons, ever present comrades in battle. They have yet to disappoint. His eyes flick toward Hesper once more. He will follow her lead. He does not know the woman addressing her now, but he can sense that she is a figure of authority; a ruler of some sort. It seems all eyes are fixed on the two women, Hesper and the one called Volshe. He will act upon the former’s command. His duty is to guard his master for now.

7230F10D-78A8-40B7-9E8B-625AD34F9671.jpeg


Tag: @Darth Dreadwar, @corinthia, @dragonsith13, @Reiis Invadator, @Arach, @G.Kn, @Admiral Volshe, @Darth Solus, @Catalyst, @Darth Kain, @Drakul_Xarxes, @Darth Xxys
 
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Reiis Invadator

Legendary Member
IC: Reiis Invadator
Korriban

Invadator followed the High Priestess in dutiful silence, the muted noises of her walking and respirator the only audible sounds from her person. Her mind, however, was far less quiet. If anyone were to tap into her thoughts now, they were likely to wince in pain at the sheer loudness of them.

WHY IS DRACONIS IN CHAINS? CAN WE DO THAT? CAN WE ACTUALLY KEEP HIM IN LONGER THAN HE'S WILLING TO TOLERATE?????

And perhaps most importantly.

AND WHEN HE INEVITABLY GETS OUT, WHO'S GETTING STABBED FIRST???

These questions were practically wafting off her through the Force, but her present task demanded her utmost attention, so she forced those questions to the back of her mind, and instead made sure that, if her Master escaped, she'd at least be able to see the general direction in which he had fled. She had only time to bow from the neck at the Priestess' command before the woman hurled herself into the open sky, her command of the Force all that she possessed to protect her from the landing.

Impressive, to be sure. Thought it was a pity they had to wait for the shuttle to land to hear what was being said.

Positioning herself to the left of her Master, Invadator resumes her focus on the man in chains, wondering what in the world brought him there. She wondered, if he simply asked her, if she would let him go. *Of course not,* was her immediate thought, but she wondered simply because the question had come to mind. Invadator scowled at her own tangential train of thought, but it was hard to think when she has so many questions.

Vexx, alone, will sense her unease clearly through the Force, mainly because she is not hiding it from him. But she, too, has orders, so she reigns it in to an acceptable level. The landing shuttle saves her from her own thoughts.

It turns out Korriban is still hot as hell.

Scowling indignantly at the setting sun, Invadator ensures that Draconis is slightly in front of her...no chance of him employing the Force and some careful maneuvering to just...slip away. But otherwise she stands still, her cape whipping back in the winds. To those observing, the light gleaming off the finery and armor of those gathered seems to not touch her, and the only part of her wardrobe that is not impossibly black are the shimmering insignias adornning her armor.

The words, commanded almost, by the Priestess make her spine amd arms prickle. She had been given a glimpse into these threats, partly to shut up her protests about entering a new time and reality. What she had seen had been...far beyond what words could convey.

She wondered exactly how this feast would unravel. Viscretus, someone she knew of, but barely knew, issued something of a challenge to Apollyon -- again, a vaguely familiar face -- in her words. And something of a challenge to the Priestess as well.

TAGS:

@Darth Dreadwar, @Arach, @dragonsith13, @Grievance Vexx, @corinthia, @Drakul_Xarxes, @G.Kn, @Admiral Volshe, @Darth Kain, @Hadzuska_The Jester, @Darth Nathemus, @Darth Xirr, @Darth Solus, @DarthNoxia, @Jihadi Quartz, @Voidwalker, @Ānhrā Māhnîu, @Helkosh, @Reatith Blodraald, @Darth Thana, @Sith_Imperios, @Cardun Vrek, @Darth Sedicious, @DarthFeros, @Darth Xxys, @Metus, @Catalyst, @Nacros_Telcontare
 

Jen'nu

Legendary Member
Moderator
Dark Council
Chapter I: You Must Move
Combo IC: Ānhrā Māhnîu & Darth Sedicious.
Location: The Banquet Hall, Sith Temple, Korriban

Secret maneuvers:

[691 standard seconds]
With little left to do after his lengthy staring session, Ānhrā Māhnîu eventually closed his eyes, surrendering to his other senses. Even without sight mental images were still perfectly preserved, though now he would simply have to adjust by other inputs. It was a minor exercise of distraction he occasionally indulged in, though perhaps not the wisest one in this den of venomous worms. As he listened intently to the shuffling of feet, snippets of conversation, his mind slipped from one projection to another. Eat and move and chitchat, until a notable silence came down upon the hall. After a few seconds of futile purblind inquiry, he simply flicked his eyelids open to see the entrance of Kára Volshe.

He wasn’t certain if his vocabulary contained any serviceable term for the manner of her arrival. Coming up short, he instead tried envisioning a scenario that would be similarly formenting without being identical. The closest he could get was a Twi’lek dancing dress, along with tattooing literal target patterns all over herself.

He had to suppress an emerging chuckle at the troupe of Imperial Jedi Knights emerging alongside her. He could hardly imagine a better way to weaken her own credibility. Even on the most superficial of levels it showed a lack of confidence in her own safety. And bringing these specific kinds of guards… Could they at least have considered disguises? The surrounding Sith would certainly consider this an act of outright treason to the organization. Not to mention those poor youngsters, surely among the most vulnerable beings in the room. At least the guards had some practical value, why were those children here? To cement her claim? Certainly possible, though also utterly useless in this particular assembly. The concept of might making right held the Sith Order like a bladed vice. And when cut off from the Force and surrounded by a thousand potential killers, he would certainly favor a modicum of caution.

john-eblahan-femto.jpgTo be able to paint such a displeasing appearance; he would have to consider that a feat and a half. He was left to distantly wonder if anyone else in the hall had a pair of explosives on hand. The idea inevitably emerged from his cranial machinery to have Al’Zhaelor rush the table with a singularity mine. Or two. Being a pointless exercise however, the idea was ultimately dismissed as quickly as it appeared. He still had to place his doubt about everyone else though.

He was left with a goblet humorously raised and an even stronger urge to leave this quite literally Force-forsaken hole of psychological asthenia. Lowering his goblet again, he made three tiny taps against the table’s plate, not particularly conspicuous to a random eye but positively enough for Sedicious sitting next to him. The message should be clear from there: they were leaving as soon as possible. Darth Sedicious raised no thought of the slightest protest, for he too had been waiting for an opportunity to leave, not doing so earlier to avoid making himself stand out so much.



[202 standard seconds]
And surprisingly they ended up not even being first out the doors. Having not even bothered analyzing the movements or murmurings of those further away, he was left to simply ponder what to do next. As amusing as the bickering platitudes further up was proving to be, he had other matters to consider. Matters of significantly greater permanence and utility.

Yet even there it looked like he was ending up behind. Multiple people were already exiting. Certainly made it less exciting than getting out first, but it seemed a negligible enough difference. Finally out of patience he swung his legs and body around, pivoting to his feet. As Al’Zhaelor would keep a close mqaaq’it on him, there was little doubt he would be alone. Since he had elected that one more would come along however, his signaling gauntleted hand brushed against the cloaked back of Sedicious next to him. Not averting his gaze from the doors or the leaving group, he restrained himself from dashing forward, following closely behind the departing posse.



[167 standard seconds]
Converging paths by the massive curving doors, the Jen’nu slipped a few words to his servant in Ssi-ruuvi. It was a language with fair bit of charm to it, not least because he was the only humanoid in the galaxy capable of even approximating it. Its melodic clicking whistles, having earned its species the nickname of ‘fluties’, was utterly impossible for humans to reproduce. Of course that had presented little issue for one with the intelligence and the resources to circumvent it.

Spy_bug.jpgAs he left, his heavenly vision noticed a pair of small crustaceous critters falling from the folds of Al’Zhaelor. It was perhaps a risk to use two, but things might get hectic quite quickly so he’d rather leave all ground covered. As a sense of satisfied exhilaration trickled through his nerves at watching the bugs crawl into shadows on the walls, transcendent joy coursed through him as mystical might washed over his being. He could finally leave, setting down through the entrance of the temple and the slithering shadows of old Dreshdae. The Temples of the Dead Lords were waiting for him.
And now at last he could set into a euphoric dash ahead.



[54 standard seconds]
fanart_night_king_got_by_kisssatsuki_dcfkv1x-fullview.jpgSedicious of course followed closely behind, and though his knowledge of languages was as voluminous as the sleeves of the possibly late Sith'ari Dreadwar, Ssi-ruuvi would ever elude him, leaving him with merely the assumption that was the language being spoken.

Like a tired muscle put to work once again, Sedicious ached the moment they crossed the threshold of the baleful beasts' Force-neutral bubble.
The constant usage of Battle Meditation had left on his mind an imprint, a tendency to visualize many actions he desired before actually doing so. Intent to be prepared to leave at any moment, he holocommed his bodyguard—one of I-Ron's shards in a chassis with the head of a robotic tuk'ata, plated with a thin layer of gold, and bade him down from the stars:
‘’114D, come to me.’’ In the seconds after, he would be sure to attempt to find a suitable host for his spectral parasite, so that he may conjure a Sith phantasm and use it to keep eyes and ears on the other Sith.



[27 standard seconds]
And with startling alacrity, the TIE reaper burst from the heavens in the distance, quickly closing ground and touching down nearby enough to walk to but far enough so as to not unnecessarily attract the attention of other Sith. Not waiting for a prompt or even a proper landing, all three leapt lightly onto the extended ramp and took seat in the ship. Ānhrā Māhnîu intoned his first Basic words in days.
‘’Set the course for Dromund Kaas, we will leave immediately.’’ The pilot raised no objection.



[Zero]
Moraband-FDCR.pngBy chance, by the Force, or by elected fate, the departure from Korriban’s atmosphere coincided perfectly with the entrance of the Sibyl II from hyperspace, though this fact would remain unknown to the TIE/rp’s occupants.

Ānhrā Māhnîu turned back to Sedicious, a slight smile of strange warmth spreading across his face as they rose.
‘’I realize you may have some concerns about going off world so early. No worries, we have everything we need to see right here.’’ As Al’Zhaelor took his seat, his Lord sat opposite the Zabrak.
‘’And I may be the guest, but they will be our ghasts.’’ Not bothering to elaborate, he turned his attention back to the Vong Guard, keeping to Basic for the benefit of his fellow Sith.
‘’Situation with the spy bugs?’’ A villip was immediately conjured from the towering creature’s cloak, an immaterial holographic image flowing about it.
‘’Well, it seems we’ll have some entertainment on the way,’’ the Jen’nu commented dryly as the standoff commenced. Now why would someone desire the survival of Federation leadership. Should they die the governmental remnants should be ripe for the taking, and they would hardly be the most amicable of allies. Yet there was another question lingering in the back of his mind as the familiar lurch tossed them through hyperspace. Why were people missing?



 
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“A man chooses a slave obeys”
Andrew Ryan

IC I-Ron-Butterfly-Traya


I-Ron connected himself into the holonet after listening to the response of Lady Caramel Phoenix.


“be constantly or visibly anxious.”


Ah, so that was what “Freetting” meant.


She was right. I-Ron didn't know why, or how one can be right at such an assessment. Inside his paradigm there was no room for such, he had to rely on others to complete his assessment of every situation. Can't help it.


Yes, the blast doors of the temple were enough that not even a nuclear detonation could hope to pry them open. One would need to be a giant crab, a mantis crab mind you, to hope to use raw unrelenting force to destroy the temple. It was a deterrent, one would hope that no one would dare to use such methods of siege against the temple, and so once your mind was out of that path it could go to another path, the path that was covered full of traps and secret doors and tunnels, and 10.000 cameras that I-Ron and his team of inquisitors made sure they were not tampered with.


Wow, being a giant crab that could muster the strength to destroy such a sturdy blast door would have been awesome. The peak of evolution. I-Ron took notes.


This time he allowed himself to rest, there was no communication or coordinates being delivered by anyone in the cyberworld. Nor anyone ready to strike at the moment Apollyon said “can you dig it?”, if she were to say such. A moment of rest before the coming storm.


People doing politics was not something he cared about, he was just carefully and with the full might of his sensor eyeing everyone.


Krayt, for example. It seemed he hadn't matured past the Clone Wars, he surely would be one with I-Ron, part of the Tusken Hive. He was one like him that shared the wisdom of the desert, that had lived in Tatooine as part of the tribe. His waster did not belonged to him, but to the tribe, his soul belonged to the desert. Funny thing, a bug should be, because his retina scans, and overall blood samples indicated he was another person entirely, however the conversations heard elsewhere and his bodily language indicated he was another person entirely.


He missed Tatooine, his soul now belonged to another desert, more full of oxide, red with blood. Now he was another cog in this machine. And then, wondered why someone like Krayt would not feel the same. They came from the same place, both siths, both tusken. Why was he not the same? Unfair, ugly. He hated it. Hated him.



Like the powerslave he was, he followed the orders of Lady Apollyon when the moment was called to be outside. He walked alongside her and stayed behind to watch her back, with no one to watch his.


Wait.


Outside? With the force all over us? And Siths that barely hide their contempt for each other?


I-Ron before doing that preferred to arm himself. He was disarmed, his weapons were in the ship. No good, he needed something fast. And so, before doing anything else, walked up to the kitchen, where his apprentice, Karin Welko, bored to death, was looking at the cooks and chefs, making sure the food was not poisoned.


“Is it time to go, my master?” She said, springing to action happy to see him.


“No. Give me your sword and shield.” In a monotone voice I-Ron said, shattering the smile of the apprentice. She obeyed him, giving him the hook-sword she made in a forge as part of a task, and a personal round energy shield that was stored in a gauntlet. The sword was alchemized, but was barely a talisman or object of power, rather the basic incantation that an apprentice was able to muster. Resistant to sabers and blasters, nothing more and nothing less. Like if I-Ron needed more. Extravagant things that oozed vulgar power were beneath him. He was quick and to the point.


He felt almost naked without weapons. Well, not naked like in a replica body with no clothes on, but more naked, really naked. Because at least the replica body has some skin.


“Go find your sister. Shadow her. You are the older one so make sure she is alright.” Finally I-Ron sent her on a mission, while he went with Apollyon.


IC- Karin Welko. Apprentice of I-Ron.


Karin inside her held a small jealousy for I-Ron and Sol. He was not like that with her, affectionate, caring. He was but a master that teached her blacksmithing and armorsmithing techniques. A walking library of extensive knowledge. She didn't had a demon inside, or a cool looking battle corset. Or the old sword of her master.She was but a walking computer when there was no holonet connection to go around asking things.


But hey, orders are orders.


Some people hold their necks with a semblance of nervousness. But Karin instead, held her firaxan shark necklace, still with the same intent. It was cold to the touch. Left her fingertips coated with ice.


Reminded her of home. Made of Ostrine and enchanted, it was the only thing that helped a marine creature to survive the scorching rays of Horuset unharmed, except from direct sun rays.


“Very well, off to find that redhead idiot.”


Using cryokinesis she left her number written on a cutting board for one of the cute chef´s helpers she was flirting with, instead of looking for poison in the food. She trailed her finger in the plastic to write, and then she left.


She started to walk amongst the labyrinthian corridors of the temple. The monolithic and ancient architecture blended with the modern, opulent and imperial. She was trying to find Sol, without actually trying, just walking around instead of contacting her to know her location.


“Sol! Sol! Are you there?” She yelled with no effort in her voice. “Sol?”


IC I-Ron-Butterfly-Traya


How much time did passed between Volshe crowning herself the Empress of all the Sith and the arrival of Hesper? I-Ron did not knew. It was a single second, perhaps? The moment between a second and another second was a void so full that could store an infinite number of outcomes inside it. There was a garden of forking paths, that was to be sure, where the sith joined as one under her majesty's flag. Another where they all chose to kill her like the unworthy empress she was. Perhaps there was even another forking path where she simply was never conceived. I-Ron had no window to those variables, he was stuck in this one.


His mind reeling and about to break. It was tough love to be a Sith, a punch-drunk love.


Blood meant nothing for I-Ron. As an inquisitor you are expected to fit the mold, as a sith you are also, as a tusken you are also expected to be part of the tribe based solely on worthiness, judgement of character and ideological purity. No children of god were worthy if they did not acted like him, since the throne was to be eternal and never change hands. They were children, and so no need to mention them beyond training and training.


And with a quick look of the scanner. Yes, she was pregnant.


Now. The eldritch fiery Lord Kain made his statement known to everybody. Someone I-Ron considered him lesser than Dreadwar, in the vein of a demigod, then perhaps she ought to be listened to.


Nathemus sealed the deal. He was his master, after all. He knew better, and if he gave his axe to her, then he had to be listened to. He had a clear and privileged channel for listening to everything he was saying after all.


I-Ron was ready to give his full allegiance to the supreme Empress, clad in gilded sun touched robes. The might of the sun bombarding her in an etheric glory out of this world, a complete beauty and sensory overload that was almost eldritch and inefable.


Then she descended.


Not regal. Not opulent. She was just her. Like a fallen angel, a desert angel that blew away the red sands of Korriban at her landing. The Butcher of Coruscant, in all her glory, returning from whatever place she was. Disappearing after her massacre at the federation senate. She was the hammer that stomped out the democracy of the galaxy, a priestess that had alongside her faithfull knights, ready to strike. She was at home at last, talking about some unknown threat for the Sith. Yes, that's why she must unite us, I-Ron assumed. Blood did not mean anything for I-Ron, only ideology and character, and she had everything. She was after all, the best and most powerful apprentice of God, even Apollyon could not stand against her. She was, alongside Kain, a demigod in I-Ron´s cosmology.


“YES, SHE IS WORTHY.”


Where to go, where to go. I-Ron was conflicted beyond belief, completely stuned. He neede time to think about it, to retire into the privacy of his own mind, as he felt the clashing storm of swords inside his mind. A sword named Volshe and another named Hesper, slashing and hurting his mind´s eye.


This is too much, there is no place to go and hide.


Except…


He sent a message at the communicator of Sol.


“Hey. 🦀



“Hello, Sol.”


“Is it a bad time to send a message? Better be paying attention in class. ;)



Some seconds passed between message and message.


“Okay, outside is a kriffshow . I'm scared, please go to my ship. I don't want anything to happen to you, yes?”


Then some other anxiety filled seconds passed.


“Answer me ASAP. :):)


Then he stopped, because it seemed weird to send a lot of unprompted messages.


But, alas, he sent a final: “Call me”.



For the outside world I-Ron should be like a immobile statue. Unable to read what was inside his mind, unable to move even.


He scanned the crowd. He finally arrived at the conclusion that, if he chose one side or the other, he was still an inquisitor. So he had to do what an inquisitor was meant to do. Instead of paying attention to the politics in the air he started to scan the crowd with his might and magic.


First, he saw Lord Catalyst disappear. I-Ron changed to his medical scanner. He could hear his heartbeat. Bah, he was his boss, he did not needed to check on him. And so he lost track of him.


His advanced hearing sensors were pointing to the crowd, if someone started to talk he would be hearing it, if someone started to chant something he would know.


There was no need for physical mobility for using his powers, outside the Sith Spells, and so, a Shard that was standing still behind Apollyon started to reach out using the force, opening himself to the crowd of people, to the entire ocean of Siths in front of him to try and look for their surface thoughts, looking for signs of corruption and betrayal just in case.


Power Used: Telepathy lvl 3


@Darth Dreadwar, @Arach, @dragonsith13, @Grievance Vexx, @corinthia, @Drakul_Xarxes, @G.Kn, @Admiral Volshe, @Darth Kain, @Hadzuska_The Jester, @Darth Nathemus, @Darth Xirr, @Darth Solus, @DarthNoxia, @Jihadi Quartz, @Voidwalker, @Ānhrā Māhnîu, @Helkosh, @Reatith Blodraald, @Darth Thana, @Sith_Imperios, @Cardun Vrek, @Darth Sedicious, @DarthFeros, @Darth Xxys, @Metus, @Catalyst, @Nacros_Telcontare @Ānhrā Māhnîu, @skira
 
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Loharr Talem

Legendary Member
IC: Loharr Talem
Location: Temple Hallways, Sith Temple, Korriban

~~~~~

As Loharr continued to walk along, keeping up his brisk pace with Sol. Their recently appointed task to travel to the dungeons and retrieving the Sith Torture Masks was now second to the command given by the message that they had received. To rendezvous with the group in the throne room, or elsewhere (whichever came first, he imagined). The flaps of spare fabric from both his and Sols attire were flowing behind them. Though, not nearly loud enough to create sound. They were jogging, so there wasn't a conceivable way that they could be moving fast enough for their clothes to make audible sounds.

The sounds of semi-rapid footsteps were... absent. Despite the two apprentices jogging with fair pace, their footfalls made very little sound, if none at all. Personally, Loharr had sort of forgotten which individuals or beings were astute enough to hear his footsteps. A trick taught to him by an old friend back on Dantooine... one Odsalna Shend. A Weequay who now spent a fair bit of his time drinking, but that never took away from the fact that no matter how he appeared, that Weequay was absolutely terrifying when he chose to be.

Eventually, Overseer Marcus' voice shattered through the silence. Which was... expected, he supposed. The manner of their exit was rather... odd.

Where do you think you're going?” He shouted, “Will I need to escort you dunderheads personally to show you the bloody way? That is the stair to the banquet hall!

He stopped dead in his tracks, his heart rate spiking for a precious few seconds, before stabilizing. Sol had stopped too, even turning to face the Overseer. For a brief moment, he could have swore that her eyes were a different shade than they were normally, but he had little time to process that. Sol's head turned away in a snap, almost as if there was an external force manipulating its movement. She hadn't even completely turned around before snapping back away.

That was... peculiar... to say the least.

Shortly after, she turned her head back to face the Overseer completely. Her eyes were normal. Was that change real? Or was it simply a trick of the light? Either way, he turned to face the Overseer now, along with his compatriot. He didn't have the luxury of being distracted at this current point in time. He opened his mouth to respond, his voice beginning to crepitate and vent, as his vocal chords began to resonate with the words he wanted to say. All in all, the sound he made lasted less than a quarter of a second, before Sol spoke up. This immediately caused him to cease the exertion of force upon his throat to create speech.

My many thanks, Overseer Marcus. It’s easy for us apprentices to get lost in such a large temple. We shall report to the dungeons after our business elsewhere is dealt with.” She said, changing the pace in which she moved to a slow walk.

She began to move towards the first steps that Overseer Marcus had pointed at, and seeing no other way forward, Loharr followed in accordance with the path that Sol had pioneered. He had an uneasy feeling. Sol seemed tense about something, but he wasn't skilled in telepathic abilities, so he didn't give it much thought. She had reached the stair well first, which made sense. She was ahead of him and he wasn't looking to upset her position in the sequence. As she persisted on her path down the stairs, Loharr followed into the stairwell. He turned his head towards the Training Room they had come from, to see Darth Xiannarr. His line of sight wouldn't keep the Sith Master in it for long, as he returned his attention to the stairwell before him.

Before too long, Sol took off running. There was perhaps not but a half second delay in Loharr's reaction, as he soon emulated her action, taking off in a run as well. That alteration was acceptable, as he didn't want to be near Overseer Marcus anymore than was necessary. He was a degenerate that would be more at home in a slime pit than a Temple of the Sith. Absolutely unsettling, and Loharr wanted to get away from him as soon as possible.

~~~~~

TAGS: @skira , @Undying Master Xiannarr , @Keres Dymos , @Nacros_Telcontare , @Kielor , @Zareel Jhenan´doka , @Darth Dreadwar
 

Dark Lady Makaria

Moderator
Moderator
Dark Council
IC: Keres Dymos
Leaving the training room, Sith Temple, Korriban

It was a relief to be leaving the training room. Overseer Marcus was unsettling on a good day, and Keres was happy to leave him behind as they moved to the dungeons. Or at least, tried to.

Keres snapped her head towards Apprentice Kira at her breezy dismissal. What? That certainly didn’t sound like they were going to be going with them. And, more importantly, they had been called for, wanted by some higher power. That was a little upsetting. Not that Keres was looking to commit political (and perhaps literal) suicide by picking a side before the fighting ended, but Kira was perhaps the apprentice she knew best. It was perhaps too hopeful to think that Kira would want her on their side in any interesting going-ons. Though with Overseer Marcus advancing on them, Keres was actually quite content to stand a safe distance away and watch the results. Still, she tilted her head, trying to catch Apprentice Kira’s eye with a raised eyebrow as if to say ‘what the kriff were you thinking?’. But Kira didn’t look at her, even if she turned her head a bit, only to snap it back forward with a strange, unnatural force, like someone had yanked.

Master Xiannarr was already heading out the door when Apprentice Kira apparently made her decision, once more dismissing them and going for the steps. She took a step, then another, and then all but flew down the stairs, immediately abandoning Apprentice Talem as well. He followed close behind, but it was obvious that he was just barely following her lead, and they were quickly out of sight. Quietly, Keres followed Master Xiannarr out, though not too closely. She could feel the edge of something around him, some Force aura, that made her quite uneasy and hesitant. The dungeons, and their mysterious task, were still waiting for them, and having to explain to Lady Apollyon why, exactly, they had all taken so long was not a happy thought.

TAGS: @skira , @Undying Master Xiannarr , @Loharr Talem, @Nacros_Telcontare , @Kielor , @Zareel Jhenan´doka , @Darth Dreadwar
 

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