Private Blood in the Sand

[Lirka Ka]

BESBERRA ARENA

Lirka was home.

Besberra was not her home, that was distant Thustra. But here, in the arena? This was where she was born, this is where she became the monster she was today. It was the arena on Jutrand where her wounds had been so great that her last rebirth had been made, where Lirka Ka became a true monstrosity of the Kainite. Where she had witness civil war rise and the chaos of Primordial Dark take hold.

But she was not here on Besberra for anything so grand, no this was a matter of wounded pride, a matter of lessons. A matter of petty bloodshed for how the mere existence of Trayze Tesar had wronged her. A chance to prove her might and teach the young Tesar the meaning of strength. Machinations were endless for Lirka, and her desires did not end at her boundless pettiness. It had felt like a lifetime since her last meeting with Trayze, for great power swelled within her body now.

She had dubbed herself the Lash of the Kainate, a being of darkness, whose blood and flesh had melded with the Eternal Father. His grim energies burning through her body as it shuddered and squirmed under the barely contained energies. The brand on her head, that foul mark of devotion, her mark of eternal servitude and strength all the same. But they would not see it yet, they did not deserve to see it yet.

Lirka was a show-woman at heart, and why make the grand reveal so soon? The once sephi paced back and forth as the elevator slowly rose: she had forgone her armor today, part of the rather simple terms she had laid out: no powersuit, no lightsaber, no tricks: just blades and might. A simple warriors garb, a thing of crude metal and tightly bound leathers: her arms exposed, things of pink-purple flesh that bulged with unnatural muscles. Her face hidden beneath a mess of twisting bandages leaving only her eyes exposed. Truly a visage of savagery.

For what better form to present on the world of the enemy? Carnifex was no god here, and what was she but one of his foul demons? Let the people get what they wanted, let the people see a bestial and savage foe attacking their glorious leader. Let them see him bleed. The doors open as the light shone down upon Lirka wretched from, the darkness of the eternal father swirling around her being like an invisible haze.

She raised her blade high to the crowd as they sneered and booed, good. Let them hate her, she strode forward with confidence. Ready to meet whatever the Tsis'Kaar whelp could muster: she knew it wouldn't be enough. Trayze Tesar would learn pain this day, she promised it.

 

[Trayze Tesar]

CURRENT MISSION - Line in the Sand
Immediate Goals -
1: Kick her karkin' arse
2: Try not to die (optional)

BLUFOR - Darth Malum of House Marr || Commodore Helix || Darth Strosius

OPFOR - Lirka Ka

TARGETING ACTION(S) - Lirka Ka || Commodore Helix || Darth Malum of House Marr || Darth Strosius || Alana Calloway || Serina Calis || Ellissanthia || Domina Prime || OPEN FREQUENCY

---

It had been inevitable, no doubt the first of many conflicts between him and his newfound archrival. Lirka Ka, the "Slavecatcher General" he fished from the void as part of his duty, who he saw at the recovery event of Susefvi, who went after him a second time during the Zinder Event - and even now had crossed paths on Woostri.

Fate seemed to bring the two together, but if the Kiffar was honest, it was because Lirka saw something she didn't like, and couldn't abide by its existence.

He wrapped his cestuses again, a mindless, rote ritual at this moment as he reflected on how much he had changed over his career. In almost every encounter with her, he had been alone or acting alone - but when the gauntlet was thrown, Trayze swallowed his pride and went for help. He was frankly perturbed at how much help he did attain, from the Droid Commodore augmenting his battle droids to serve as his ever constant training partners - Strosius growled curt stratagems, his vitriol aflamed first when he heard that Trayze had rescued one such as General Ka, the Sith Lord's abhorrence of slavery even now stinging on his cheek - but once his rage cooled, or rather redirected at "besting her, breaking her pride", the Master of the Order of Wonosa was all to giddy to provide all the dirty pit-fighter tricks that the once-Sephi could use.

Rising to his feet, he felt the warmth of his kinsmen drive his own fire forward. From the consolation and additional insights in the Force and Force Dead from his cousin... no his brother, Malum, and the two people who he owed his existence two. The two people who had fought in this arena lifetimes ago in order to save one another for a brief time, for the sake of love.

In the stands, an elderly woman with saltpeter hair and skin wrinkled and caramelized from many long years in the sun clutched the arm of an equally ancient man - a man with eyes so much like his, but whose countenance and courtesy even after all these decades resembled Malum closely.

These were his grandparents, the Patriarch and Matriarch of the Tesar Family, along with a scattering of kinsmen and their colleagues. This wasn't meant to be a spectacle of glory - this was the first battle of the rest of his life, to show that he would tilt his lance against those like Lirka, like that thrice-bedamned Kaine, now and evermore.

Of course, this would be politely extolled by Grandpa Zarrick to his beloved beau, but when the Sephi emerged, decorum went out the window. This small group of people, for better or worse, were on Trayze's side - and they did not ascribe to courtesies given to interlopers such as this Kainite slaver.

"Give 'er the purple nurple!" Dolya, venerable matriarch of the Tesar farm raved, crudely mimicking the gesture of one's chest being mangled. "Grab 'er dick an' twist it! Punt 'er in the cu-!"

The last part was mercifully subdued by Zarrick helping her to her seat, and the fire and fury of Dolya was abated - for now. The Kiffar chuckled, grateful to have inherited her fire, and for once, that her wrath was not directed at him.

 

[Darth Strosius]

There was a small part of Him that twitched at the sight of the arena He now sat in the stands of. A small, treacherous little part that recalled the last time He had been in an arena and then the the last time that He had faced off against one of the combatants below. The wounds from the Kaggath still stung, spiritually not physically, as the pale wisps leaking from His robes implied and the arena hardly helped soothe that ache.

The opponent of the Kiffar was one that He had been up against once before, some Kainite shill that had bested Him brutally and forced Him to watch Empyrean's declaration of his new Sith Empire through fading eyesight as He was beaten into unconsciousness.

Three defeats all brought to the forefront of His mind at the same time left only one course of action as viable. A piece at the bottom of His mask had been detached and set aside, the space quickly occupied by a straw leading down into the hardest drink that the arena served. Given His biology there was no way that it would actually make Him drunk of course but if He drank fast enough then He could at least enjoy the slightest of buzzes for a few moments before His system automatically crushed the intoxicants.

At least the booth was comfortable and offered a good view He supposed, as well as a quick path to the adult beverage cabinet so that He wouldn't have to bother some poor worker whenever His current drink inevitably ran dry.

Trayze Tesar / Lirka Ka / Darth Malum of House Marr / Commodore Helix / Alana Calloway / Serina Calis / Ellissanthia

 

[Serina Calis]

Blood in the Sand.
Location: Besberra.
Objective: Analyze.
Allies: Ellissanthia
Opposing Force: ???
Tags: Trayze Tesar Lirka Ka Darth Strosius Commodore Helix Darth Malum of House Marr Nova Ka

Strength is not merely in the blade, nor in the power that courses through our veins. It is in knowing the mind of your enemy before they even raise their weapon. Watch, learn, and when the time comes—strike where they are weakest.
​

Serina Calis watched from the shadows of the arena stands, her keen blue eyes locked onto the blood-soaked sands below. The Besberra Arena was a pit of violence and spectacle, a theater of brutality where warriors were stripped of pretense and laid bare before the masses. It was, in its own way, a temple of power.

Seated beside, Ellissanthia flanked her like a silent sentinel. Serina herself remained still, an observer rather than a participant, for today was not a day to act—it was a day to learn.

Trayze Tesar and Lirka Ka.

Both names were known to her, tangled in her web of knowledge like prey ensnared in silk. She had crossed paths with them before, though not in the way of steel and blood. That line had nearly been crossed more than once, and yet fate had seen fit to keep their blades from meeting. For now.

Her reasons for being here were simple. Information.

She had no need to declare her presence, nor did she care for the spectacle of the crowd. She was here to study—to see how they fought, how they moved, how they thought in the heat of battle. Lirka was a creature of pure aggression, a walking storm of steel and sinew. Trayze was… methodical, but she had no illusions about his pragmatism. Each possessed a measure of strength. Each was dangerous in their own right.

Which one, she wondered, would break first?

The elevator rose, and the beast emerged.

Lirka Ka stepped into the arena like a creature wrenched from some nightmare of forgotten gods. A monster in crude metal and leather, the grotesque bulge of her unnatural muscles visible even beneath her wrappings. The brand upon her forehead burned with unseen power, an eerie haze of darkness clinging to her form like an invisible shroud.

Serina let out a slow breath, expression unreadable.

"She's always changing," Serina stated, tone almost amused.

The crowd roared, a cacophony of hate and anticipation. Lirka raised her weapon, basking in their contempt. She fed on it.

Serina folded her hands beneath her cloak, watching.

This would be a lesson worth learning.

 

[Nova Ka]

TAG: Ellissanthia Lirka Ka Darth Malum of House Marr Trayze Tesar Darth Solipsis
Gear: Droid

Nova Ka's livestream kicks on with a flicker of static before stabilizing into a clear view of the fighting arena. The camera feed jostles slightly as her personal recon droid zips through the rafters, weaving overhead of the stadium, as her stream chat flies by at a blinding past. The oversized Sephi woman hardly fit in her own camera view, with the cramped confines of her quarters in the background.

"Alright, chat, settle in. I know I promised carnage, but first, we gotta get the setup right. Can't have you all crying about 'bad angles' while my mother turns this guy into space dust."

The droid tilts its lens down, capturing the scene below. Two figures stand at opposite ends of the hangar—one, the towering form of Lirka Ka, her imposing armor catching the dim light in sharp, predatory angles. The other, her mother’s opponent, looking like he thinks this is some grand duel of destiny. It wasn’t, but he didn’t know that yet. Nova's voice cuts back in, mixed with furry. She absolutely detested everything about this man. Just his mere existence bothered her.

"Look at him. Dork Lord of the Sith. Dramatic. Look at that face he’s making. You know he was an actor before this? Must be pretty good since he can act competent."

The droid zooms in slightly, stabilizing its position along the upper section of the arena, while Nova flicks through a control pad, checking the view. The chat floods with messages—some demanding the fight start, others mocking the Sith's over-the-top stance. One detractors made some rather nasty remarks about her mother, as her comm buzzed with a notification. Regardless, her droid moderators would be pulling up the little fools information now.

Seems she would be making a house call after this, the idea made her smile. She read off the account name with amusement.

"Whoever OnDaRonIan2328 is, you’re dying after this stream, any offenses spoken about my mother or myself carry the death penalty. So use your last words well. Dork Lord vs Lirka Ka. This will be the shortest duel of the era."

With a flick of her fingers, Nova directs the droid lower, setting up an optimal angle. The Sith begins speaking—some tired speech about power, destiny, the usual garbage. Nova audibly yawns.

"Is anyone taking bets? I ask because it is against the law to gamble against a Sith Lord, and I will personally kill you myself if you bet against me mother. Make good choices."

Her oversized fingers gently enhanced the view, shifting the droid to have a nice over the shoulder shot of the arena.

She was going to get so many views out of this massacre.

 

[Quinn Varanin]

//: Lirka Ka //: Trayze Tesar //: Serina Calis //: Nova Ka //: Darth Strosius //: Ellissanthia //: Alana Calloway //: Darth Malum of House Marr //: Commodore Helix //:
//: Attire //:
//: OPEN //:

Lirka Ka and Trayze were two individuals for whom Quinn developed a fondness. The Kainite Warmachine had been someone to show a kindness she didn't expect, while Trayze sacrificed himself for her life. To see both of them in the middle of an ancient arena interested her. It was interesting how lives were constantly intertwining and unraveling. With that thought, she would have never figured the pair to be fighting - though it made sense knowing what she knew of Lirka and the Sith.

The woman sat quietly, her legs crossed one over the other. The last time she had watched a fight was the ill-fated Kaggath. She remembered the roar of the crowds, people placing bets while others worried to see if their champion would slaughter the other. Quinn still couldn't wrap her mind around the entire thing. Malum easily struck down his brother, but it wasn't until afterward that he realized what he had done. Still, it seemed it worked out in both of their favor.

Leaning forward, she brought her hand to her face, resting her fingers against her face. Susevfi still hung heavy in her mind, and the place of the fight wasn't helping her. Still, she had nightmares of the broken-down arena the rebels had locked her in, forcing her to fight while slowly dying. Her eyes fluttered, erasing the memory from her mind for now, pushing it back into the depths of her mind. This event was supposed to be celebrated, especially seeing how Lirka came alive in the middle of the arena.

Slowly, her thumb played with the cool metal of the braided silver ring on her finger. It had become a new habit while deep in thought. Quinn let her eyes wander, trying to see who else had made their way to this event. Several faces, several tendrils of the Force, but Quinn remained quiet, silent, and minimal to those around her. Compared to the fervent beings that surrounded her, the young Princess would appear as almost nothing.

Sitting back up, she settled into her place and waved small flags with Lirka and Trayze's faces on them. She couldn't pick a side.

 

[Trayze Tesar]

CURRENT MISSION - Line in the Sand
Immediate Goals -
1: Kick her karkin' arse
2: Try not to die (optional)

BLUFOR - Darth Malum of House Marr || Commodore Helix || Darth Strosius

OPFOR - Lirka Ka

TARGETING ACTION(S) - Lirka Ka || Commodore Helix || Darth Malum of House Marr || Darth Strosius || Nova Ka || Serina Calis || Ellissanthia || Domina Prime || Quinn Varanin || OPEN FREQUENCY

---

He had sensed them all - those who had decided to grace the arena. Most lingered in the arena, letting the "plebs" hoot and holler for their "own boy" and technical governor come in to whoop this stranger's butt. Bread and circuses aside, Trayze hoped that through this conflict - win or lose - he would show that he wasn't gonna hide behind a cushy chair. Even now, he viewed himself more as a presiding guard dog of Besberra, content to listen to those who are local to govern and to snarl at whoever wished to exploit the world for one reason or another.

Sadly, his first presence in the arena wasn't merely inaugural, but something of a petty vendetta. Still, proximity to Jutrand meant that by and large that there was little love for the Kainites aside from the desperate and the tithed.

What confused him the most was the presence of something... not quite like Lirka but too similar to not do a double take. It was a good thing that he permitted the Master of Ceremonies to bring some formality to this bare-knuckle brawl, elucidating the accomplishments of the "home team", the heel, and any in the audience who wanted to make themselves known... There was a great many interesting sights to see. Strosius nursing a beverage like a sulking toddler, wanting to be anywhere but here, that aforementioned dull presence in the Force setting up some means of recording the fight. Perhaps that's why there was a higher turnout than usual.

Lastly there was the Princess Varanin with... flags? Of him and Lirka? ...How the hell was there even merchandise for this? And besides, it was way too inaccurate!

They made me too handsome and Lirka too ugly! he thought to himself, bearing both humility in his own appearance and wanting to deny the Once-Sephi the contempt needed to revel in.

 

[Lirka Ka]

Serina Calis Ellissanthia Darth Strosius

She felt like a girl again, liberated from the confines of royalty and in the rancorous uproar of bloodlust and grime of murder. Lirka was a gladiator at heart, and while the woman-who-was-Lirka was long gone: you never could forget where you came from.

It was ironic really, Lirka was a foul creature that so often would much rather have hidden in the dark cracks of the Empire to do her shadowy dealings outside of prying eyes. But the Once-Sephi had pulled her strings, she wanted publicity today. She wanted all eyes on her as she showed Trayze Tesar what the true meaning of Strength was.

Her dear Nova Ka had made sure to bring the eyes of even those not on Besberra with the Lucious promises of digitized bloodshed.

And Lirka would put on a show for them all. She sauntered into the arena, all the pride and swagger of a monster. Her dark powers pulsating like a beating heart. A Kainite beast, all muscles and bandages.

Trayze may have had the force to sense the crowd, but Lirka was a champion of the pits. She knew crowds like the back of her hand, she knew how to reach out to those who hated her, those who loved, and those who just weren’t quite sure.

She looked to flags waving in the wind, mighty pleased to see the designs she had worked on in the crowd. Especially the rather…interesting…visage she had decided to give poor Trayze. But what she truly looked towards was to who flew both, the neutral, the undecided. Quinn Varanin may have been a spec in the crowd, but Lirka knew. She used her crude blade of dark iron as though it were a pointing finger of acknowledgement, her fist shooting to her chest as she bowed in the Princess’s direction.

Good. The Royals were here. The perfect eyes to have gained the attention of.

Her blade turned, now pointing to the figure of Trayze as Lirka slowly, deliberately walked towards him. Stopping once there was a moderate distance between something, and she did something that only the melodrama of a Sephi could muster.

She threw her blade to the ground, with all the force she could muster, to bury the thing into the earth. Letting its hilt stick to the air in challenge. Lirka turned to address the crowd again, arms spread wide. Let them cheer. Let them roar. Let them elate in savagery.

For when she turned to Trayze again, it was with bare fists raised. This would be a show of might, true, brutal, might.

 

[Darth Malum of House Marr]

This would end only one way, he was assured, a Tsis'Kaar triumph over the Kainite, a Marr triumph over the Zambranos, such was the way of the galaxy, the young replaced the old, and the old had been around for far too long. It was perhaps with that immense confidence that he stood upon the edge of the bannisters, mask upon his face, long raven locks swaying in the breeze, framing the red eyes underneath, watching with rapt attention, upon the two gladiators that were embarking in ritualistic combat.

It had not been the first time he had witnessed such bloodsports, it would not be the last, indeed, he supposed in some regard that he had participated in them well enough.

He knew exactly the possibilities that could await down there in that arena.

Especially with the opponent that his cousin... that his brother, faced.

Perhaps that was why even with the immense confidence that he held for his kinsman, he was rested upon the bannister, the Governor's bannister, far above those below, simply watching, simply watching with his blade drawn, ready to launch himself down to the earth, should... anything go wrong.

There was little doubt in his mind that Trayze would conduct himself well, he had in his own merits held Besberra under his name, lead as a Triumvir, battled the Sword and Shield of the Jedi, and had been trained by him, along with given the aid of Alisteri and Commodore Helix.

...Still, he was facing the Slavemaster General of the Tenth Empire, the one who had aided in the conduct of Operation Hammerfall with such brutal efficiency, who had been battling long before them, to have served along with those of the Confederacy of Independent Systems. She was no pushover of an opponent, that much was readily apparent, even if he had not yet been given the opportunity to cut off her limbs.

...He remembered hearing of their prowess from Alisteri, he remembered their duel with Jaidha... long disappeared Jaidha.

Trayze could win, he would win.

But if he did not, his brother was ready to end this as quickly as it began. It might have been the duty of the elder to protect the younger, but their dynamic had always been rather... shifted.

Trayze Tesar Lirka Ka Darth Strosius Commodore Helix Quinn Varanin Serina Calis Ellissanthia Domina Prime Nova Ka
Mentioned: Valery Noble Kahlil Noble

 

[Ellissanthia]

Location: Besberra Arena - Besberra
Attire: White Outfit and Cloak
Equipment and Effects: Standard Lightsaber - Purple Blade │ Spirit Anchor Talisman │ Holocron of Master Goran │ Spray Bottle
Objective: Observe
Tag: Nova Ka Serina Calis Lirka Ka Trayze Tesar Darth Strosius Quinn Varanin Darth Malum of House Marr

It was stupid of her to bring the holocron here, of all places. And yet, Ellissanthia had not been able to part with the object for long ever since she had secured it during the raid on Sedesia. While her wounds from that engagement were now little more than quickly fading scars owing to a prolonged immersion in bacta-infused water, the memory of the pain she had suffered to capture it from the Jedi made it so that she did not want to let it out of her sight, for fearing of losing it.

Thus, as the holocron pulsed inside her grasp, Ellissanthia gazed down at the arena below from her seat within the shadows of the stands, her eyes studying each combatant as they approached the other. She remembered Lirka Ka—Slavecatcher General and Lash of the Kainate—from her brief assignment with her in Yumfla on Susevfi, before the city was destroyed. She was a monster now as she was then, her imposing form corded with unnatural musculature and marred with innumerable scars. Her body was a mess of mutated flesh and bandages holding it all together, establishing a presence that was as monstrous as it was misshapen.

And yet, Ellissanthia gave a slight smile upon seeing her. Both she and Lirka were Kainites, after all. And the Undine was not one to oppose or abandon a fellow adherent of the Eternal Father.

Her opponent was Trayze Tesar, who Ellissanthia knew little of herself. However, the Undine was vaguely aware of his reputation from what little Serina had told her. He was a man of pragmatism and perhaps, justice, who was quite popular with those of the lower social classes.

Turning the holocron within her grasp, Ellissanthia glanced towards Serina upon hearing her remark, her eyebrows rising in the process.

“How so?” Ellissanthia asked, as Lirka threw her sword blade-first into the ground, before raising her arms to coax a clamor of cheers, jeers, and shouts from the crowd. At that, the Undine gave a slight frown, before speaking up.

“I hope she is taking him seriously.” She commented softly, a slight frown drawing down her lips as anti-Kainate chants rose from the crowd. Shaking her head, the Undine spritzed herself down with water from her spray bottle, rehydrating her skin as the chants grew louder.

 

[Serina Calis]

Blood in the Sand.
Location: Besberra.
Objective: Analyze.
Allies: Ellissanthia
Opposing Force: ???
Tags: Trayze Tesar Lirka Ka Darth Strosius Commodore Helix Darth Malum of House Marr Nova Ka Quinn Varanin

Strength is not merely in the blade, nor in the power that courses through our veins. It is in knowing the mind of your enemy before they even raise their weapon. Watch, learn, and when the time comes—strike where they are weakest.
​

Serina turned her head slightly, her sharp blue eyes flickering toward Ellissanthia, a slow, knowing smile curling the edge of her lips. She saw the way the Undine clutched the holocron, fingers tracing over its surface as though the very act of holding it anchored her in place. A precious thing, hard-won through pain and sacrifice—how fitting. How predictable.

Serina leaned in slightly, her voice a smooth, velvety whisper, meant only for Ellissanthia to hear. "Because she revels in the theater of it all."

She let the words linger, watching as Lirka cast her sword into the sand, spreading her arms wide to the chorus of hatred from the crowd. It was spectacle—grand, indulgent, and completely unnecessary. A beast demanding acknowledgment, demanding fear.

Serina did not demand. Serina took.

She let her fingers brush lightly over the back of Ellissanthia's hand, a fleeting touch—soft, deliberate. The kind that sent shivers, that made her presence impossible to ignore. Her voice dipped lower, laced with amusement and something far more dangerous. "She is not careless, my dear. She is arrogant. There is a difference."

Ellissanthia's frown deepened. "I hope she is taking him seriously."

Serina chuckled, a sound as smooth as silk. "Oh, I doubt that. But it is not our place to hope, Ellissanthia. It is our place to learn."

Her fingers curled lightly under Ellissanthia's chin, tilting her head ever so slightly—just enough to meet her gaze fully, to keep her from looking away. There, in the reflection of those violet eyes, Serina saw it: the conflict, the need, the quiet war within her. Beautiful.

"You hold onto things that cost you pain," Serina murmured, eyes flickering down to the holocron in the Undine's grasp. "But pain is not power. It is merely the price. You must decide if what you have taken was worth what you gave."

She released her, leaning back gracefully, returning her attention to the fight as the tension in the air thickened.

"Watch, my darling. See what strength means to them." A pause, then a slow, languid smile. "And when the time comes, we will show them what it truly looks like."

 

[Trayze Tesar]

CURRENT MISSION - Line in the Sand
Immediate Goals -
1: Kick her karkin' arse
2: Try not to die (optional)

BLUFOR - Darth Malum of House Marr || Commodore Helix || Darth Strosius

OPFOR - Lirka Ka

TARGETING ACTION(S) - Lirka Ka || Commodore Helix || Darth Malum of House Marr || Darth Strosius || Nova Ka || Serina Calis || Ellissanthia || Domina Prime || Quinn Varanin || OPEN FREQUENCY

---

The die, or rather blade, was cast. There was something different about her - not that she wasn't strong before, but there was something about her that was... different. More. Coiling and wretched.

Him.

He really shouldn't be surprised that as soon as she her pride was wounded, she would run to Daddy Kaine, tail between her legs, and would drink of the Tick deeply the moment someone lesser than her made her bleed.

Butchery begets butchery...

Again, he offers the boxer's salute, a brief touch of fists, the barest civility offered. Not that he expected her to reciprocate, but it wasn't just about besting her in the ring of battle. It was besting her and her ideology, every breath, every moment, in all aspects. Let her be a mindless beast, who preens under the roar of crowds - Trayze's strength shall be that held in silence, in sureness, in that which cannot be moved.

Not even by death itself.

 

[Nova Ka]

TAG: Ellissanthia Lirka Ka Darth Malum of House Marr Trayze Tesar Darth Solipsis
Gear: Droid

Nova drummed her fingers against the table, her expression twisting into something between boredom and irritation. The stream was running, chat was rolling, but the action? The action had stopped.

On her screen, her camera drone hovered over the arena, feeding a crystal-clear image of two figures—her mother, Lirka Ka, and that damn Trayze Tesar—just… standing there.

Doing nothing.

Nova squinted, waiting for some kind of movement, some kind of sudden attack, maybe even a dramatic monologue to spice things up. But no. They just stood there.

[VoxMachina78]: uh… is the stream buffering?
[Crimson_Klaw]: Did the feed freeze or are they just stature?
[IonViper]: this the part where we all disconnect, right?
[Deadbolt_77]:SOMEONE THROW A GRENADE OR SOMETHING.
[Crimson_Klaw]: statues

Nova groaned, rubbing her face before snapping her fingers, bringing up a secondary control panel. "Alright, alright, I know, chat. I see it too," She muttered. "But let's be real, have any of you actually been in a fight? I know you haven’t because you can’t understand the way my mother thinks. She’s the greatest warrior of the last century."

The chat erupted.

[WraithHunterX]: shes lose like all her fites though.
[VoxMachina78]: Your mom does have 'war crime' energy.
[Deadbolt_77]: Trayze is a confirmed baddie thou.
[NovaScopeYa]: Hey Nova did you get my credits???? Can I be in your comms now???

Still, Nova wasn't about to let this drag on forever. She flicked her controls, nudging the drone a little closer, hoping that maybe the subtle movement would at least provoke someone into action.

Nothing.

Mother please.

Nova's eye twitched, this one called WraithHunterX had just made his final mistake. She watched the text stream by, as one by one her viewers seemed to trickle away. She needed to do something, fast. "Okay, nope. We're not doing this. Chat, question—who lands a hit first? My mother, or Trayze with some lame force powers?"

The chat exploded.

[Crimson_Klaw]: You cant even use the force what do you mean lame.
[IonViper]: Lirka gun turn him into paste.
[HeartOfLiburTea]: Your mother is a war criminal and so are you.
[VoxMachina78]: Nothing is happening though.
[NovaScopeYa]: nova please stop ignoring me how many credits do I need to send you?????? please?????

Nova grinned, leaning back. Finally, some entertainment. Even if they weren't fighting yet, at least she was having fun.

Now she could watch her brain dead audience fight one another.

 

[Lirka Ka]

There was grim purpose in all of Lirka’s movements, even beyond that of her simple showboating to a crowd that seemed to hate her. The darkness around her form compelled her forward, compelled her to hate, compelled her to kill, butchery begets butchery after all.

Snapping back to Trayze Tesar after addressing the crowd she allowed the man to share a boxer’s salute between themselves. Her eyes peering through the bandages around her face, a murderous glint within them. Yet…there was something there. A plan? A trap? Lirka’s thoughts were her own, but the eyes gave away much.

She offered little time to ponder, and was on the Acolyte quickly: one of her tree-trunk like legs firing out to try and kick the man in his knee.

Lirka Ka, she who loved to hear her own voice, did not say a word. Silent, unblinking, she truly was playing the role of the Kainite monster. Trayze may have had grand designs of ideology and strength, but Lirka was a petty creature, a monster fueled by spite. And what greater spite would there be than smashing one of her least favorite Sith on his own world?

Ellissanthia Serina Calis Darth Strosius Darth Malum of House Marr Quinn Varanin

 

[Trayze Tesar]

CURRENT MISSION - Line in the Sand
Immediate Goals -
1: Kick her karkin' arse
2: Try not to die (optional)

BLUFOR - Darth Malum of House Marr || Commodore Helix || Darth Strosius

OPFOR - Lirka Ka

TARGETING ACTION(S) - Lirka Ka || Commodore Helix || Darth Malum of House Marr || Darth Strosius || Nova Ka || Serina Calis || Ellissanthia || Domina Prime || Quinn Varanin || OPEN FREQUENCY

---

To Lirka Ka, this was another day in the pits. One full of pomp, circumstance, and a spite that was demonstrated in trickery and the atypical tactics of a "heel".

To Trayze, his own spite was born from how he could control himself better than the enemy could.

For instance, the loose, boxer's stance was perfect for grabbing the self-same tree-trunk leg and flipping her just so. If humiliation wasn't enough to encourage her to escape from his grasp, the fact that her other leg would be spun towards the very blade she stuck in the ground!

An injury wrought by her own showmanship was something that Trayze had already considered, and he would utilize every trick in the arena - not from experience as a gladiator, but rather his experience in firefights and streetlights among the roughest Besberra and Jutrand had to offer. Everything could be a weapon, especially the opponent.

It was in the spirit of this total war, that when Lirka found her back hitting the arena floor and being flung askance - a combination of Trayze's own momentum and the once-Sephi's gladatrix's grace-that on a certain Sephi's stream an unknown and nameless profile would clip the incident with a fitting sound effect. If she was keen enough to catch a glimpse of the crowd, an elderly male was holding onto his holophone, while his saltpeter haired Kiffar wife peeked at the screen before howling in laughter, this private exchange lost in the roar of the crowds.

 

[Lirka Ka]

Another day in the pits. Another day back home. Another day to revel in dark power, but really: Lirka just enjoyed playing the crowds. To channel all of her many years of brutal bravado in the pits, but alas, all would need to play second fiddle to her most favored of pass-times: tormenting Trayze Tesar

He was so repugnant in his difference, his idiotic childlike philosophies of…goodness and honor or whatever it was. All the things that made him turn his nose up at Lirka’s dirty business: they were Sith, was it really that bad to do a bit of Slavering to keep the credits rolling? Everyone needs to make their money after all, and last thing Lirka needed was some dolt of an Acolyte getting high and mighty

They had fought before, and now Lirka was far from unsurprised when he tried to flip her again. She let him, going with the momentum. Only the most ridiculous of monstrous theatrics followed, as her leg spun towards the embedded blade Lirka swung back her leg as much as she could and slammed it into the thing: letting the dark iron cut through her flesh in uncaring masochism.

A clink of metal on metal as the blade stopped against Force-Only-Knows-What inside the Once-Sephi. Foul viscous blood of chemical blackness seeped over the weapon, Lirka was a freak of vats and tubes. With such damnation came many a boon, clotting was one of them. Already the wound clotted around the blade, the gloopy blood almost a binder.

Lirka’s time on her back was short lived, with the ichor’s power coursing through her wrenching herself from his grip was a quick thing. Her leg now stuck upon the blade ripped up, and as quickly as her weapon had been discarded it popped back up from the earth as she launched herself to her feet. Evidently not phased by the wound as she tore the weapon from her leg in a melodramatic twirl, letting the globules of blood fly through the air and stain the sand below them. Quickly, she lashed out with her new weapon: attempting to give him only a scratch, far from the maiming blow deserved.

Her eyes never left him, the glint of ambition in them. Just what was the freak planning?

 

[Trayze Tesar]

CURRENT MISSION - Line in the Sand
Immediate Goals -
1: Kick her karkin' arse
2: Try not to die (optional)

BLUFOR - Darth Malum of House Marr || Commodore Helix || Darth Strosius

OPFOR - Lirka Ka

TARGETING ACTION(S) - Lirka Ka || Commodore Helix || Darth Malum of House Marr || Darth Strosius || Nova Ka || Serina Calis || Ellissanthia || Domina Prime || Quinn Varanin || OPEN FREQUENCY

---

The risk he took was calculated, but damn... on this day Trayze Tesar was bad at math. It was a sort of madness the Kiffar could respect, using one's own limb to pull a weapon back into their offhand.

As the blade slid across his cheek, the chemical globules mingle with the fresh red that would dribble down his cheek, granting a sickly scab over the wound - and he would answer by driving his fist into her chin.

Bodies separated as Lirka raised the fervor of the crowd to a fever pitch with this clear upset, some decrying unfair tricks all around - others frothing at the prospect of a truly no-holds barred bout. Trayze kept his guard up, deciding to undertake a more defensive stance than a flashy offense - he needs to outlast her, and let her overextend, and counterattack.

Already there was a cruel scheme hatching in the Kiffar's mind, to ensure that the Once-Sephi not only chokes on her own blood, but the very sword she dared to raise against him.

 

[Lirka Ka]

Lirka’s head shot back as his fist made contact with her chin, the foul chemical taste of blood in her mouth once again. She welcomed it, she welcomed to roars of the crowd in both hatred and exaltation. Everything was going just as she had hoped.

She stared at Trayze Tesar wordlessly. Lirka Ka, who loved nothing more than to hear the sound of her own voice didn’t speak. She merely stared, her own stance defensive as they stood in gridlock for a moment.

But, the Once Sephi was not one to keep quiet for long. It is was simply an impossibly, as she had grazed his face with her foul blade. Lirka flipped the thing in her hand, and in a flash she slashed her own face. The bandages that had covered it flying to the wind, Lirka Ka, she who had hid for face for so many years revealed herself to the masses. They could put a face to the atrocities, see her uncanny foulness before them and know she was a creature that could only have been made - not born.

But all that was secondary. Only one thing matter: the brand upon her head, red and raw as if it had just been pressed. A brand of devotion, that radiated the dark power of the Eternal Father, the brand of the Kainate. Lirka’s hands beckoned to the crowd, and she finally spoke: for the Once Sephi did not need a helmet to make her words thunderous.

“Look upon me and know He who you hate most is here! The Tick-Lord! Failed Emperor! False God! Carnifex is here, for his eyes are my eyes, and my eyes are his eyes!”

She uttered her mantra, but yet she sang no praises of her lord, of her kin. She challenged the crowd, she beckoned them to give into their hatred. To let the Dark Side swell within that wretched brand and fuel the foul ichor that coursed through Lirka’s being. She turned once more to face Trayze.

He was who she beckoned to most.

To give into his darkness, to let himself hate the one thing she knew he despised the most. To let her be the conduit for his wrath against the Eternal Father. Lirka had her own cruel schemes, for they desired the same thing: to let spite overtake the other till they became sloppy.

And yet, in her eyes, in that smirk of annoying smugness plastered on her face. This wasn’t it. Lirka had a plan, she always had a plan, now she just needed to see if Trayze would fall into place or if she’d force him there. Her blade pointed at him in challenge, let them bleed each other.

The Tsis’Kaar, and the Kainite. Enemies sworn.

Darth Malum of House Marr Darth Strosius Nova Ka Serina Calis Quinn Varanin Ellissanthia

 

[Trayze Tesar]

CURRENT MISSION - Line in the Sand
Immediate Goals -
1: Kick her karkin' arse
2: Try not to die (optional)

BLUFOR - Darth Malum of House Marr || Commodore Helix || Darth Strosius

OPFOR - Lirka Ka

TARGETING ACTION(S) - Lirka Ka || Commodore Helix || Darth Malum of House Marr || Darth Strosius || Nova Ka || Serina Calis || Ellissanthia || Domina Prime || Quinn Varanin || OPEN FREQUENCY

---

Declaration - a bold one, one that should incense the blood. and planned. The mark... not just ideologically he hated it, it sneered, seared, sizzled the air, forced its energies behind his eyeballs to cloud him in wrath. He felt it, the urge, the goading... like a shining, stained glass mirror that warped and saw through him, it sung so sweetly to him, to give in.

What were the whispers that He spoke of - the true Emperor, Darth Empyrean , through the mask of that hapless husk of a woman?

The Beast.

One breath. Two. Who was he? What was he doing here? ...He was all that ever would be. Not the titles, not the kin-blood, not even the Force. Him. Just him. He, not Carnifex, would incise his own rage, his passions, his fury. He, not Lirka, would bear the injury of defeat to learn, charge into oblivion for the sake of ideals, and ensure that there would be a Galaxy that passion and love could be wrought into the sinews of the stars. He would learn, even if the Dread Emperor would not teach. He would do better, do more, do what was right - for the sake of us all.

So he did, by answering the last part of her sentence with a "huh" that wouldn't be remiss from congested goose.

"...No seriously, huh? There's nothin' there." The answer was simple, cruel, unmodulated - for how could one modulate what would become a death-blow? "...Carnifex is nothin', and before me Ah see nothin'. Ah don't fight over nothin'."

The crowds murmured confusion, some even screaming bloody objection as Trayze Tesar, Kiffar, Acolyte, Detective, Failure, Kinsmen, Unofficial Imperial Medic, Reader of Lady Velvet, Captain Under Marque, reclined upon his side as if a feline utterly bored of what he saw before him. For those who were keen in the Force, it was a peculiar sight - a sense of control, of "it-is-as-it-is", of stoicism that wouldn't be remiss from a Jedi, but... different.

For Trayze, if he were to fall within the arena, would fall by his own decisions - and not the slavering desires of a mindless beast - oh, and Lirka being there as his proxy.

 

[Lirka Ka]

Darkness enveloped Lirka Ka, it overpowered her like a bubbling poison ready to burst from her wretched form. It pulsed out to those around her, to the rancor of the crowd, to her foes and allies alike around her. She was a monster of Kainite design, a creature that had melded to the Eternal Father's flesh. A creature that had no right to exist.

A creature that had been given the power to defy

Lirka Ka would never be a slave. As Trayze denied her, as he allowed himself to become the icon of a bloodthirsty crowd's ire. His words reached her ears, and Lirka let a grin, wicked, wide, and toothy across the uncanniness of her face. A mouth full of razors, still stained by the foul blood of her being after his punch. She approached slowly, each step filled with grim purpose, as if it were difficult to even move as the Dark Side flowed through her being.

She understood him, her most-hated-foe, she understood they were the same. They defied. They were paragons of the self, they did not let the Galaxy force them to dance. For as much as she goaded him, assailed him, he would always stand proud. He was no beast, in the moment of elation where his wrath could finally be unleashed. He stayed resolute, and Lirka could almost respect him for it. Almost.

He had done just what she had hoped.

The blade loomed high in the sky, the sunlight glistened off the dark metal, the blood even darker that stained it. Her eyes looked down upon him, and in it he would see not the mindless, raged, eyes of a beast. He saw the mischief of ambition, of the joys of a plan brought to fruition. She brought down her weapon with all the strength of her unnatural form, to harmlessly sail past him into the earth. Another upset in this most strange of duels.

Trayze Tesar had given Lirka the one thing she always desired, an audience. She wasn't here to fight at all, no, her dear Captain would never yield from mere violence. He would be her stepping stone, the podium to remind all of them that Lirka Ka had been a politician once, long, long ago. And she could orate like one.

She looked out to the crowd again, and she thundered out her wisdom. Her declarations. The eyes were upon her, friend and foe. They merely needed to listen, to know.

"People of the Empire, today I am not Carnifex! I am not a Kainite! I am myself! Lirka Ka, Imperial, citizen, veteran, servant of the Empire! And I am here today to speak the truth I have seen in this Galaxy. For years, decades, I have been lost to the aether of space! In the void I have learned much, I have seen the horrors of worlds untouched by Sith rule, of the wilds that stand outside our border! And I have learned!

There was a fury in her eyes, and the firmness of a zealot in her voice.

"The Galaxy is a ripe fruit! All we need but do is squeeze, squeeze and drink from the nectar! To squeeze and feel the wealth denied to us! Squeeze and let the Galaxy know we will not let them deny us! But such a thing can not be done alone! In those long years lost, when I came to my revelation, it was not Carnifex who saved me! It was not the Emperor! It was not the Kainate, it was not the Eternalists, it was not the Tsis’Kaar!”

She turned from the crowd to instead face Trayze Tesar once again. There was malice in her eyes, pure mischief like he had shown on Naboo.

“It was him! Child of Besberra, Trayze Tesar! He who declares his hate, who has saved me time and time again! Who has allowed me to walk the hallowed lands of Sithdom once more! Who knows the truth beyond what this arena, this monument of pettiness, of the division that has plagued this Empire! We are all Sith!”

Lirka would never be Sith. For the sake of speeches, why not lie. No, she had greater goals in mind. To hurt Trayze in the only way she knew how. To give a startle to the distant Viper Darth Malum of House Marr the Councillor who she would never dare to raise arms against. Her eyes gazed down at the Kiffar with intensity, and with the crowd on her. And the knowledge that the people loved nothing more than to gossip.

She reached down, grasping his head in both hands and kissed him.

She would wound him by doing that which was least expected. Poor Nova Ka she thought, as her lips locked to his. She would have to teach her daughter that there were more ways than blades to hurt a man. What pride did Lirka have to lose? The people would see the “love of enemies”, but for poor Tesar there would be no lovers warmth. Lirka was cold to the touch, her mouth smelled of chemical foulness and burnt just the same.

Quinn Varanin Serina Calis Ellissanthia Darth Strosius