Faction Common Room Philosophy (Sith Academy of Korriban)

[Alina Tremiru]

Alina paused. Glanced towards where she could feel eyes on her. The tree from before. The one that had followed the Shaper. She flashed a kind smile as she always did, dipped her head in a simple greeting, but turned to leave. Whatever happened now, Alina wasn't here to participate. Only make sure Bronwyn Rees knew the rules so she could flourish as a proper Sith. Given the scream that echoed in the hall as she left, though, perhaps it might be a bit harder than Alina thought.

Ah well. She doubted Bronwyn would do anything too against the academy rules on the first day.

Madrona A’Mia

 

[Tarus Undara]

Korriban
Sith Academy

​

"Know where we are on this globe?"

“Mmm,” Tarus hummed, giving the orb a gentle spin. He looked to the girl from the corner of his eye, recognizing her purple hair. She was at the masquerade, he believed. They hadn’t met, but shared toasts from across the ballroom floor.

“Here.”

He pointed to their position on the globe, halting its lazy spin with his fingertip. His eyes immediately began scanning the mountains nearby, when she mentioned Moraband.

Tarus chuckled to himself.

“They do,” he said almost spitefully.

“But historians don’t reject it. Moraband is a name that serves primarily to undermine the Sith. The name ‘Korriban’ alone is enough to make even the steel-nerved uneasy.”

He looked to her, trying not to make such an innocent question feel so heavy.

“Truthfully, they’re interchangeable - but I wouldn’t recommend making a habit of using the ‘M’ word outside of the classroom,” he told her with a smile. He tilted his head then as he studied her.

“I’ve seen you before, but we haven’t met yet. I’m Tarus. Are you a student here?”

- Annika Starfire -​

 

[Bronwyn Rees]

The sudden silence was soothing, or would have been if not for the nature of that which had caused it. Bronwyn opened one eye to look to the voice, and found that it was wildly disparate with the body it came from. It was the man she had just beaten senseless, and yet he was gone because this one still had an eye in his head. The one held out to her was presented as food. She retained her disgust internally.

"No, by all means, please, keep it." she said, quite unwilling to eat an eye. The creature, whatever it was, clearly was not human. Bronwyn had no clue what it was, nor did she really care in the end. It seemed to be friendly, at least that was the intent in offering the eye she suspected. "You know, we're not supposed to kill other acolytes. I'm sure whoever dropped you off would not be very happy that you did so." she said to the girl, man...thing. It was the one real rule that Alina told her, and she had obeyed it if not to the letter, in spirit. She mentioned nothing about a healthy maiming.

There was a bristling feeling from the hair on the back of her neck. This creature did not look at her in a way with which she felt truly comfortable. Something about it set the inborn instincts alight with disquiet. She left that to herself though. "The man you...disposed of. I had left him alive for a reason. His suffering was what I considered my meal and in that you denied me my food. No matter, you had no way of knowing. It has been told to me, that the Dark Side grow stronger through the suffering of those you hate, and those you maim. They hate you in return, want to see you destroyed. I was told that that hatred, that burning want for revenge, is what makes the Sith strong. Not just those who feel it, but those to whom it is directed. In my experience, it is wise to defer to those who have survived longer in a life where people die young." she said, without a hint of admonishment. It was more peer sharing knowledge with peer. Perhaps they did not know, perhaps they did and did not care. Regardless, this was as diplomatic as she had ever been and it was at Alina's behest to try and make allies or at least remain on neutral terms with those around her.

Aramea Bel Annika Starfire Rayth Tarus Undara Matthew of Valendale Alina Tremiru Mazrith Drihl Firrerreo

 

[Mazrith Drihl]

Mazrith looked closely at his conversation partners. He detected hints of annoyance from Rayth and perhaps indifference from Firrerreo . Both were fine, all he needed was information. Continuing to stand he took a step forward so that he was a comfortable difference from them.

"I promise this will be quick," began Mazrith, "I wish to inquire, from your personnel experience, what is more respected by the current Sith. Is it perhaps the great warrior? A priest or scholar? Would a master of deception be held in high regards? I am very curious to know what is more important to a Sith."

He was also curious to see how the pair reacted to his question. If they came across as bored then perhaps it was a commonly known answer. Annoyance would mean that the answer hardly mattered. Interest would theoretically be the best result, though it may be a sign that Mazrith was poking to deep. Lastly Indifference would be frustratingly unhelpful.

Mazrith even in the first stages of such an interaction was already feeling the eyes of judgement. His peers and potential enemies were seeing which camp he belonged in, testing his worth. He would need to be careful.

 

[Annika Starfire]

Location: Korriban Academy
Objective: settle in
Tags: Rayth Tarus Undara Alina Tremiru Mazrith Drihl Madrona A’Mia Matthew of Valendale Aramea Bel
Wearing: top & short bedtime combo

"Oh no, I don't go here, I'm just one of those people who likes to hang around random schools in their pyjamas..." she joked to Tarus Undara in a friendly manner. "I think I saw you at a ball recently that my Master took me too? This looked more familiar? she pulled out her device and showed him a couple of the selfies she had taken at the ball with her in an asymmetric purple dress and matching face masque.

She looked closely at the globe as if it would give her more information about their current situation. "I'll bear that in mind about the name of the planet, jot quite ready to be ostracised by the locals, got a reputation to think about." this wasnt even a joke, she was already thinking of ways to expand her online follower base onto Korriban, and cultural paux pas such as that were suicide for an influencer such as her, even people who had no involvement in the situation would take it upon themselves to be offended by proxy, then the algorithm would get involved and it would be all down hill from there.

"I take it you're a student too? Or just sticking your head in like me?" she winked.

 

[Firrerreo]

"Those who survive and thrive are the ones held in high regard. How they do it doesn't matter, from what I've seen."

A perfectly reasonable answer, without being an answer. Firrerreo was always a fan of avoiding the direct transfer of information to possible rivals. And everyone in this room was very much just that. A potential threat. The masterless were all going to have to find their own way around so they didn't fall prey to the others. Holding his cards close to his chest would certainly help with that much.

Mazrith Drihl | Rayth

 

[Rayth]

Rayth offered a shrug. He did not want to appear like he was failing to come forward with an answer in front of his peers, but he didn't know much about those who held power at all.

Darth Reprimar was the only one with any significant influence who had spoken to him at length. He had met Annika's master just once, but she had only spoken of the glamour of the masquerade ball.

In the end, he could only be honest. Rayth did not know what time of game this might be.

"I don't know," he said. He nodded towards Firrerreo and then looked back to Mazrith Drihl

"His answer sounds as good as any."

 

[Tarus Undara]

Korriban
Sith Academy

​

“An educator, actually,” Tarus said with a small inflection of pride. It was one of the few roles allocated by the Covenant that kept him away from the butchery and rituals.

His life as a Jedi was over, he knew that. Accepted it, even. There were merits and pleasures in the Dark Side that he never could have known from the other end of the spectrum, but that didn’t mean he needed to sacrifice his humanity to revel in them. A path of wanton evil and irreversible insanity was not one he could choose, even after all the rewiring he’d endured.

“Astronomy, geology, history,” he said, nodding in reference to the Moraband inquiry. He suddenly realized that his intellect and experience landed him in more than one field of study.

“Perhaps ‘General Repository of Academia’ is a better title than ‘professor’.”

Tarus chuckled, clearly amused with himself. Finding humor in tricky predicaments was his favorite medicine. He pulled away from the globe and leaned against a stone pillar. It was one of many that had been carved from the natural stone throughout the Academy, a small work of art that made the masterpiece whole.

“What are you studying here? Anything in particular, or just gleaning what you can?”

- Annika Starfire -​

 

[Aramea Bel]

"No, by all means, please, keep it," the half-living thing said, it's face contorting into a strange arrangement that Aramea hadn't seen before. The spawn looked at the other thing curiously, trying to decipher what her face meant. The memories of the man told her it was 'disgust'. An aversion to the eye. So tasty, so squishy and sweet, but not to her tastes. More for Aramea then. "Ok. Well, I thank you!" the spawn said, not at all disturbed by the creature's rejection of her offering. The man's form popped the eye back into it's skull in much the same grotesque manner it had the first, before beaming back at the still half-living thing. Maybe it too would be alive again if it just ate some other living things.

"Was the screaming thing an acolyte?" Aramea asked at the mention of not killing them. Mother had said as much, but Aramea had not known what these 'acolytes' she'd spoken of were beyond what Grandfather had said. "If it was, it was not a very good one. Grandfather says Sith, acolytes or not, should not show weakness, cry, or scream." The thing had done all three. If it was an acolyte, then it was not a good one.

A 'man'. That was what the screaming thing was, if the half-alive thing was to be believed. But why would Aramea not believe her? She even knew Mother's commands! "Oh, I see," the man's mouth said with a feminine lilt. She could bring the man-thing back though! A deep hacking sound came from the man's throat. Once, twice, before the third time it became the cracking sound of wood again, followed by the muffled screams that had drawn Aramea in. LIke some feline creature, Aramea coughed up the still writhing body of the man-thing onto the floor, now coated in some sickly green viscous fluid. Before the half-alive thing's eyes, the still-seeing man turned back into Aramea's pallid, doll-like form, the two eyeballs falling to the ground again.

Aramea knelt down beside the screaming-man-thing, picking up its two eyeballs with slender fingers before gingerly putting them atop the empty eye sockets. "Go on, hate this one," Aramea said pointing at the half-alive thing. "Hate it, so it can hate you and grow strong!" She beamed up at the half-alive thing, the almost innocent smile not sitting quite right on her lips.

Bronwyn Rees

 

[Bronwyn Rees]

Bronwyn looked down at the man, and then to the thing that regurgitated him. That was not something she expected to see in her entire life, but the Dark Side was a strange and powerful thing. The girl had swallowed him whole, and now had spat him back out whole. She closed her eyes and exhaled, "His suffering, can you feel it? He is in pure agony, and it is unfiltered by pretense. Even for Sith, the violent rending of one's eyes is difficult not to react to. His outrage before is nothing compared to how this feels, how he feels knowing that I maimed him and you nearly consumed him. He fears, and he rages, but is helpless against it. If he survives today, I suspect he will not leave this Academy, let alone Korriban, alive. May he perhaps prove me wrong and become an effective agent for the Sith, but I do not hold out hope for him."

The man's screaming drew in more attention, this time from Academy staff. There were no real questions asked, just an order to drag the man off to the infirmary and see to it that he did not perish. On Korriban such injuries seemed commonplace if that was the reaction, but perhaps the man in question did not feel like he had to ask anything given what he witnessed in the room, and what he had felt in the Force prior. Some stones were better left unturned to some people, and Bronwyn felt the same way. This was certainly something that she would never be able to unsee. Still, the girl got the spirit of the rule correct. No killing other Acolytes, and actually managed to follow it. Not that she had any authority since she was an Acolyte too, but in spite of her penchant for uncontrolled rage, she was a creature of law. Rules were put in place to manage people, and she tended toward them rather than against them.

Aramea Bel

 

[Perseus Kotar]

​

Perseus felt almost at home here, as much or as little as that meant. Home was a foreign concept to the Dark Side aspirant and always had been since his "Adoption" by Zevran. Where are you now? With a sneer of disgust, he turned back to the rack in front of him. It was a quiet corner despite the fracas several of the others had made towards the center of the room. Several of them brooding about what the Sith valued, others discussing geography, and another pair still ruminating on a bout of violence that had transpired. He may not have looked it, but Perseus was acutely aware of the goings on around him as he ruminated on the weapons in front of him. That one is interesting, he thought to himself. A Sith sword, intricately etched, a jewel mounted in the pommel. Another, a vibroblade with a particularly curved edge, another still a weapon of mysterious angles and lines. Further still, an array of gauntlets, knives, lash weapons, and what Perseus could only assume were weapons of ancient Sith origin. "Impressive," he muttered in a quiet tone.

He stood still for several minutes, content to investigate the items visually for a time before committing. The textures, the materials, some he knew but there were also those he could not begin to guess. With a soft sigh, he reached out and retrieved an especially wicked-looking dagger, the edges serrated and a deep fuller along the blade. Turning it over in his hands he marveled at the intricate weave of the hilt, the patterned material that gave it an almost ethereal appearance. Placing it back on the rack, careful to avoid cutting himself, he withdrew his own weapon, the crudely welded hilt, and clumsy fitting causing him to narrow his eyes as he compared his work. These weapons were true weapons, his was merely an attempt; it was a poor facsimile of the lightsabers of old.

With a shake of his head, he reattached it to his belt and retrieved yet another weapon from the rack. This time a long, thin, pointed blade. This weapon too practically exuded violence but a much more subtle form. With straight lines and a sharp point, this one was made for stabbing, puncturing raw flesh and thin cloth. Taking a step back, Perseus made a few practice stabs with the weapon, considering for a moment before replacing it. You're like a child in a candy shop, he thought to himself. "You're like a child..." he heard Zevran's voice, distaste dripping from his words. "Shut up," he muttered quietly to himself.

Perseus continued to study the weapons, asking himself a question. Why was he here? He didn't need protection, he didn't need to escape or hide, he'd practically bested a Jedi, or so he thought. No, he was here because he desired something. Power. Knowledge. Skill. It had been three long months since he'd heard from Zevran, Perseus returning after his ordeal on Irvulix V. No one had been "Home" to greet him, to receive his report. In the absence of a teacher, or a mentor, he had decided to seek what he desired elsewhere and the Sith had provided him that opportunity. Or, so they claimed. He had come here to see what was offered, to take what was held, and to grow from it. At least, he thought.

 

[Aramea Bel]

Aramea listened attentively to the living-metal creatures words, and watched with interest as other living things came to drag the screaming one away. Perhaps they held some other higher station, and intended the screaming thing for their meal instead. When the one who commanded the others paused to look back at Aramea and her new half-living friend, she smiled a waved at him. "Enjoy!" she said, her voice shifting to the man's on the last syllable.

When Aramea turned back to the other and spoke, her voice had returned to her own. "I do not know if that one's suffering will amount to anything. Except maybe to make him tastier. But I am pleased that you seem to take such enjoyment from his pain! My name is Aramea Bel." The girl introduced herself with a deep curtsy, bowing her head low, and smiling up at the half-metal-half-flesh thing as she stood again. "Wonderful to make your acquaintance."

Bronwyn Rees

 

[Kai'lyn]

Tags: Open

The harsh, red landscape of Korriban looms in the background as a transport shuttle descends onto the landing platform of the Sith Academy. The shuttle's ramp lowers with a hiss, and out steps Kai'lynn, a figure both out of place and yet strangely fitting in this environment of dark ambition and power. His eyes, sharp and alert, scan the ancient, imposing architecture of the Academy, a place where the dark side of the Force pulsates through the very air.

Pinned to his chest is a small, crude metal badge, almost like a makeshift warning sign. It reads, 'Caution: I bite.' The badge, while small, speaks volumes of his recent past — a savage, untamed nature, and a warning to those who might underestimate him.

Kai'lynn's stomach growls, a primal reminder of his immediate need. He moves with a predator's grace, his steps purposeful as he heads towards the mess hall, driven by an insatiable hunger that has become his constant companion.

The mess hall is a cavernous room, filled with long tables and the low murmur of conversations. As he enters, a few heads turn, eyes lingering on the badge pinned to his chest. Whispers ripple through the room, a mix of curiosity and caution. Kai'lynn pays them no mind; his focus is singular — food.

He prowls along the tables, his gaze sharp and assessing. The array of food is vast, but he is not just looking for sustenance; he is searching for something that will satiate more than just physical hunger. His eyes are drawn to a table laden with a variety of meats, some cooked, some raw. It's the raw meat that catches his attention, a reminder of the wilds and the freedom he once had.

Kai'lynn doesn't hesitate. He reaches out, grabbing a piece of raw meat, feeling the cold, slick texture in his hand. He brings it to his mouth, teeth tearing into the flesh, a savage satisfaction in his eyes. The taste of raw meat, rich and metallic, floods his senses, grounding him in the moment.