Private A Touch of Evil

[Avernus]

// Aboard the Turbo L.O.V.E.R //

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Tags: Zhani Amadine | Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt | Phadia Alshu | Trajan Fett
Location: // Training Arena within the Turbo L.O.V.E.R //

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Ever since the completion of the Turbo L.O.V.E.R, Avernus has been a rather mobile dark lord. His duties to the New Imperial Order, The Qotsisajakaar, and his various corporations have been conducted remotely via hologram for some time. The warship meets party barge had been skirting the edges of neutral space, picking up high profile patrons to its many amenities, generating a constant source of revenue to keep the ship going. The frequent pitstops at Nar Shadda to restock on spices and alcohol, as well as checkups on his Sky Palace, were the only tenures on terrestrial ground he'd experienced in a while. Aside from the frequently insisted excursion to perform New Imperial Order duties by Lyra, the rest of his apprentices had become regular residents of the Turbo L.O.V.E.R.

While luxury lodgings and amenities were supplied for each person lucky enough to be a resident, including the apprentices, the significantly better lodgings granted to Zhani Amadine were far from subtle. She'd been championed by Avernus as his 'star apprentice', which showed in her actions, at least it did when she could be bothered to leave the cantina or taker her hands off whatever lucky individual she had taken a liking to on a particular night and sober up long enough to apply herself. Despite her shortcomings, the favoritism was rather blatant. Avernus thought little of the ire this might invoke in the other apprentices, insisting that they 'get what they work for'.

The ship was more than reasonably manned by a large crew of droids, leaving Avernus and the rest of the organic crew to partake in far less responsible undertakings. When he wasn't in his personal office conducting business, he was in a private cantina that not even his apprentices were allowed into. Due to his illusive itinerary, he was rarely seen in the durasteel corridors of the Turbo L.O.V.E.R. His presence on this ship had become little more than an enigma to many who were not in his circle.

Avernus sat on a custom-made throne that overlooked a small dueling dojo within the depths of the Turbo L.O.V.E.R. After the generous reward he'd paid to Trajan Fett for the capture of Aerarii Tithe he had managed to convince the Mandolorian to stick around. For now, at least. He'd promised Trajan a generous stipend for occasional and miscellaneous combat-related services, along with mostly free reign of the Turbo L.O.V.E.R's amenities and a reserved lodging for when he wished to use it. As per the employment agreement, he'd had Trajan accompany him to this chamber, insisting that he'd explain why later.

Pressing a large red button on the right armrest of the chair, Darth Avernus accessed the PA system. After a small and rather pleasant ringing sound to alert the denizens of the ship, his voice began to play over the speakers. "Zhani, Sybila, and Phadia, come to the sparring chamber immediately. I expect you within the next ten minutes." His tone was calm but stern enough to emit the proper amount of authoritativeness. With the order given he relaxed in his seat, resting his chin on his hand and crossing is legs halfway. Quietly he'd wait for his underlings apprentices to arrive.

 

[Phadia Alshu]

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Phadia was awoken by the sound of the intercom, causing her to shoot up from sleep in a cold sweat. She hadn't seen her master nor trained in a while, and spent most of her days aboard the Turbo L.O.V.E.R sleeping, while her nights were full of debauchery and various vices. Her previous evening had been spent in a drunken stupor, which would explain her pounding headache. She sighed as she climbed out of bed, staggering across her room, tossing on her robes and making herself presentable. Phadia then grabbed her weapon from her bedside, nestling it on her hip. She was curious as to what Lord Avernus had in store for the apprentices today.

As she made her way into the well-lit corridor, the Mirialan wiped the sleep from her eyes. A yawn escaped from her mouth and she stretched her arms wide. The hall was bustling with activity as various crew members passed her. She paid them no mind as she made her way to the sparring chamber. She was eager to see what was in store- dueling had always been a favorite past time of hers, and she had been yearning to prove herself to her master, especially after the favor he had shown Zhani.

The doors wooshed open to the sparring chamber, and Phadia slowly sauntered in. She saw her master sitting in a throne-like seat above the pit, with the bounty hunter standing beside him. Phadia raised her eyebrows as she wondered what he was doing here. Phadia fought the urge to ask, not wanting to spur her Master's anger. Instead, she made her way over to the dojo, waiting on the other apprentices to arrive. ​

 

[Zhani Amadine]

Zhani snorted awake, sitting up on the lavishly appointed bed in her chambers with a groan as her brain lagged a bit behind her body. She cradled her forehead in her hands before running her fingers through her bright pink-purple hair, taming it a bit. It was too early to be up. Much, much too early. Someone's annoying voice was speaking too loudly over the PA, and she squinted as she tried to make out what was being said.

It was a very familiar voice. "...Oh. Wh... what could he want now." Irritated, she threw off the covers, stretched, drank some vile concoction she had purchased based on the garish label promising extra energy, vitamins and minerals, detoxifying enzymes, antioxidants, and a whole bunch of other spurious garbage that probably did nothing, and inspected her wardrobe for something appropriate to wear. 'Appropriate' in this case having nothing to do with the occasion but based solely on what she thought looked cool. She left occasion-specific outfits up to Avernus mostly, half because she couldn't be bothered and half because it was always amusing what sort of high-fashion monstrosity he'd choose next. Most might refuse to wear them, but she had no shortage of self-confidence. When you look this good, it hardly matters what you wear, right? Besides, maybe she'd set some trends in the process.

She ended up choosing something that was surprisingly modest yet eye-catchingly neon at the same time, as per her usual tastes. Rounding it out with skin-tight black pants and tall boots, she buckled the Sith sword Avernus had given her at her waist. She needed to get used to keeping it on her. It was a fine thing, though the weight made it very different to use than a lightsaber, not to mention that the length made it more awkward to wear. She sighed wistfully, wishing for a moment she had her old lightsaber back. Well, this worked for now.

Settled and seemingly now unaffected by whatever hangover she had, she strode out of the door as it slid open, down the corridors, passing only a few maintenance droids on the way to the sparring chambers. He'd called all three of them, so she could only surmise that he'd be instructing them all at once. Probably some sparring, too. It was called the sparring chamber, after all. As she drew closer, she could sense others nearby, some familiar feeling, but others not so much. Not just Avernus or the other apprentices. So, an audience, perhaps?

Finally she made a dramatic entrance, posing almost unconsciously at the door as it opened before walking in, stopping precisely in the middle of the dojo floor. She eyed Avernus, who was also lounging dramatically on his very thronelike chair, and nodded in approval before putting on a slightly irritated air. "Wasn't expecting a summons so early. I knew I shouldn't have eaten that much before I went to bed." She folded her arms, looking expectantly around the room. "What's on the agenda, boss-- I mean, uh, master?" She paid hardly any attention to Phadia. She had only met her in passing-- they were on the same ship so it was inevitable they had run into each other, but beyond that she didn't know much about her or under what circumstance she had come to apprentice under the Pureblood. She tapped her foot, waiting on the answer with rather overexaggerated impatience.

Avernus Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt Phadia Alshu Trajan Fett

 

[Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt]

"Right well I already approved the memo just run it by Captain Belisarius and get the armory access update. I want that audit report-,” Lyra ground out, struggling to fasten the belt at her waist and balance the comm device in her hands. She had been up for hours, eyes stinging from scrolling through the scattered set of reports on her desk. Glancing to the silver device, the projection had likely skewed and Lyra cursed silently, the holoprojection of the Captain flickering and the woman’s face pinching together in confusion.

“Ma’am you’ve disappeared, where-”

“Audit report-and I want test flights done! We need to run those immediately,” she interrupted the woman. The blast doors of her quaint quarters sliding open with a hiss, greeted by the long durasteel halls of the Turbo. Shutting her eyes as her ire spiked, turning and rushing back inside to grab her coat. Hefting the comm up, Lyra regarded the soldier,“I will contact you after my meeting Appw’rii! Colvy out.”

The cerulean image distortion before the line cut out. Stuffing her arm in one sleeve and all but throwing herself down the sleek corridor, feet pounding down the hallway. Each step left a mounting animosity in the back of her mind, something simply out of place aboard the ship. Force be damned but she wasn’t interested in finding out why, knowing well there were other apprentices now. She had been content to spend the day handing the files.

The woman was dressed down in basics-at first glance she was just another soldier off base. Lyra wasn’t concerned with the strange looks, it probably didn’t help her eyes were bloodshot and the uniform was crumpled. She wasn’t put together this morning and her brows furrowed as she considered the timepiece. Lyra hadn’t intended to have an extended stay aboard the Sith’s own ship, it was a begrudging need in pursuit of training.

Hands trailed up the coat front, buttoning it as she swept through the extravagant main hall toward the training room. Three minutes late now. The closure she drew to the room, something tightened in her chest stalling her step. The door ahead before she realized her breath had gone short. It had been slow to dawn upon her and she halted, standing there alone and by habit her eyes searched the long corridor. This was a necessary evil, and she screwed her eyes shut.

A few minutes in training or listening to a tirade and then she’d be on her way.

Simple. The thought offered little comfort though. Just a little work, yet it was fear bubbling in her chest she realized. Lyra hadn’t ignored the summons out of a begrudging duty, her ambition gone in the face of the war effort. In a moment of panic the woman turned around, finding herself doubled over; hand bracing herself on the wall. She was late, she reasoned. It did not change she wasn’t interested in facing the Sith Lord; Borosk fresh on her mind.

Lyra weighed her options before she settled on a seed of anger, rising back to her full height. Her movement robotic as she took a step forward, sucking in a deep breath before continuing down the hall. Panic had no place here. When the doors hissed opened, her pale eyes narrowed landing on Avernus the moment she entered the room. A throne now? The sheer opulence, oh she could be angry enough to see this through.

“Apologies, a military conference ran late.”

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Avernus Phadia Alshu Zhani Amadine Trajan Fett

 

[Trajan Fett]

He'd never thought this would be the position he found himself in. New Imperial Order's contract was a fulfilling one, for the most part in that it implied retaking the motherland and slaying Sith along the way to a pile of credits for providing his mercenary services in the battles leading up to it.

Even so - the time between battles of high value target acquisitions mean't be free time best spent wasted if wasn't lending a hand around the enclave of the 'Sons Of Mandalore' on the recently conquered planet, Krieg. Even if he was still innately skeptical of the group of exiles and their aim alongside the New Imperial Order. At the very worst, it was an errant purpose in a line of work that had little depth beyond the love of money.

Summoned ahead of the Dark Lord Formerly Known as 'Avernus's flock of Sith beauties the Mandalorian stood off to the side from the surprisingly mundane (by the Pureblood's standards) throne. He could only serve to assume his purpose here and upon the arrival of the three of them it only served to perplex Kurze even more. Everyone who'd ever encountered Avernus could tell that women were not his taste. Even still, all he seemed to surround himself with were beautiful ladies. He supposed it made enough sense, the Zeltron he recognized well enough having tried a hand at wheeling her in to Agrippa The Hutt 's custody alongside THE Ziggard Blackstar only to be thwarted by Kurze's now employer.

The other two were a foreign sight but given set precedence, the Mando didn't really know who else to expect in Avernus's retinue. An upstart Mirialan acolyte and what all but seemed to be an officer in New Imperial dress.

"Huh." Was all the bounty hunter mustered in appraisal when the three reached Avernus's throne room, Trajan clad in his full Beskar'gam with the entirety of his panoply of war either fixed to him in some way or not far away in the slightest.

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Avernus | Phadia Alshu | Zhani Amadine | Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt