Populate Dies Festus Mortourum | SO Populate of Tellyr Prime

[Darth Caedes]

902 ABY
SITH HOLY SPACE
KORRIBAN

Backlit by Horuset, Korriban's blood-red sun, the planet loomed large in the inky expanse of Kainite Holy World space. Seven moons encircled the world on their own orbital paths, casting eerie shadows down upon Korriban’s surface. Space thick with an imminent stillness, the three largest moons moved inexorably toward alignment. The impending eclipse was a rare cosmic event, and for the inhabitants of Korriban, it heralded worldwide reverence and celebration. The ancestral home world of the Sith, Korriban had forever been steeped in the dark side of the Force, replete with Force nexuses stretching for miles beneath the desert floors, leylines of screeching power to attract ghosts and undead as surely as the scent of fetid flesh. Tonight, when the planet's second, fourth, and seventh moons were set to align in syzygy, it has been said that the veils separating life and death grew thin, and that spirits could hear the whispered prayers of their mortal descendants on Korriban.

For nearly a year now, the inhabitants of the world had labored to rebuild their homes, torn from them by the Ashlan. When the Sith had recently returned, their world had been razed to flame and ash with warfare and planetary bombardment, cleansed in blood. Crusaders and light-sick heretics near-worse than the Jedi themselves, those defilers had been followed and hunted in their desperate escape through the Stygian Caldera, to Elom; where ultimately they were saved by the efforts of the Galactic Alliance, or else captured and dragged back to serve evermore in the undead hordes of Darth Caedes. Now, entire continents had been repopulated, cities arisen, cultural centers and places of learning erected, and grand armies reanimated. At last, the newly settled families of Korriban could rest well and celebrate their work. At last, the Sith could revel once more in the majesty of Korriban’s eclipse.
​

​

KORRIBAN
PALACE OF VARDIN

At Korriban’s heart, the ancient palace of Vardin stood in testament to the Sith’s enduring lineage. Its towering spires and sharp, darkened arches were illuminated by the sinister glow of crackling torchlight, casting grotesque shadows atop smooth black-stone floors. Within its ancient halls, preparations were underway for a lavish and extravagant masquerade ball, a tradition observed during the eerie eclipses of Korriban's seventh moon. Headless undead servants, picked-clean though nevertheless unnerving, moved through the throngs of guests, carrying treys laden with exotic delicacies and blood-red drinks.

Above the grand ballroom danced the specters of Sith Lords from ages past, each twirling or mingling in mid-air, their translucent figures swaying to a melody heard only by the dead. Sometimes they watched the living guests below with an unsettling curiosity, whispering to one another before turning back away. For the living, musicians played a wild and rhythmic beat laden upon metal drums and accompanied by deep, throaty vocalizations.

As the final hours to the eclipse approached, the palace of Vardin brimmed with anticipation. Guests concealed their faces behind masks, ranging from the elegant to the wildly elaborate, each one an intricate reflection of the wearer’s hidden desires and darkest secrets. Here, anonymity beckoned that the most monstrous emerge and be seen as beautiful. For the night, Lords and Peasants danced on the same floors and held conversations. You never could be certain of whose embrace you were flung into, caught up in the raucous dances of Korribani revelry.

KORRIBAN
WORLDWIDE EVENT

As the three crimson moons gradually moved nearer to alignment and eclipse, all of Korriban was drawn into a timeless ritual, together asked to observe primordial magic. Soon, their prayers and oaths would be heard by the specters most ancient in this world. Inhabitants of Korriban gathered to make lines stretching for miles, carrying with them softly glowing paper lanterns. Massive parades were born, varying in tone from raucous celebration to somber reverence, meandering through city streets and the most sacred places of the ancestral world.

The Valleys of the Dark Lords, where the tombs of only the most powerful Sith Lords rested, were alight with the soft, flickering glow of countless lanterns. Temples, both active and ruined, were bathed in that same haunting light, and the chants of Sith acolytes filled the air, their united voices resonating with a sense of both supplication and awe. Shrines, dedicated to the most revered Lords of the Sith were visited by pilgrims and hopefuls, offering their prayers to those long departed, or else seeking power and guidance, and who then released their lanterns into the air.

KORRIBAN
WORLDWIDE EVENT

Three massive moons hang like weights in Korriban’s night sky, seeming to draw in gazes and pull wind from lungs, sliding as if on a collision course towards an eclipse. The dead walked the world tonight, and not merely on the merits of the King’s sorcery alone (responsible for the untold millions of undead who swayed, arm-and-arm, breathing their hot, wet breath, out in the cold dune seas and beneath the cities, hidden away within dark cisterns), but because, it was said, the Netherworld drew near and the moons pushed its protective veil aside for a time.

Cities lit aglow in celebration, lanterns like flocks of strange birds wandered aimlessly through the air, glowing in soft oranges and pastel reds. Each one of them carried with it a prayer, promise, invocation, or oath, causing the air to feel thick with the livewire of the dark side of the Force. On nights like this, nights where history’s greatest monsters are called back to roam free once again, revelry, mischief, and acts of great evil are want to dance together, hand-in-hand. On nights like this, one never can be too careful.
​

Art By: Gerwald Lechner ​

 

[Rayth]

Following in Darth Reprimar's wake, Rayth could not help but crane his neck to try and take in the sights. It was like nothing he had seen before, the grand overture of the macabre and hedonistic could not have been further removed from the dank caverns of the lower academy.

"Am I your apprentice now?" Rayth dared to ask.

"Most certainly not," snapped Reprimar, turning to look down at him. His expression was obscured by his elaborate mask, but there was fire in the eyes of the sith pureblood. "You did well in the melee. By hiding well and timing your betrayals well you made the top half. This is your reward. I permit you to be loosely associated with my name and to enjoy the revelry. If you mar my name or submit to your disgusting hunger I will have you strung up from the academy walls as a lesson to others. "

Rayth nodded and looked around. Unlike the other sith, he had been furnished with particularly plain robes and a simple mask. A reward, but Reprimar was playing a game of courting several potential apprentices and ensuring the other Lord's knew that none were receiving particular favour.

Here they were, dancing and cavorting. Basking in their recent success.

Only three nights ago, Rayth had woken in the night to see Jarrod sneaking into their dorm. Rayth had stayed quite still as Jarron had approached Keeva, placed his hand over her mouth and slit her throat. Jarron had seen Rayth's eyes, watching him and had brazenly placed a finger over his lips and remained until Keeva stopped convulsing.

The next day Rayth had reported this and Jarron had been beheaded by his own master in front of the class as a lesson. Rayth had never liked Jarron and now there were two less classmates ahead of him. Killing another classmate was an accident, but if it was witnessed it was sloppy. It was a mark of a student who did not deserve to leave the academy.

Rayth had learned two lessons. If you were to gloat over a fellow student in front of their friends, you slept with one eye open. If you chose to dispose of a classmate, you left no witnesses.

"Those people with trays have no heads," Rayth observed.

"I did not bring you here to make stupid observations," Reprimar snapped. "Go, find a way to enjoy yourself without embarrassing me. If your hunger becomes too much then come and find me. We may still have some live captives and my friends would find the whole...process...quite entertaining."

 

[Erion Justeene]

Location: Korriban
Objective: Watch the Eclipse
Equipment: Equipment: Lightsaber | Voidsaber | SHT-26 "Bedevil" Heavy War Bike
Tags: Open

Superious had returned from the month-long high holy holidays, the annual gathering of Ubese. This particular gathering came with a present, a Total Solar Eclipse, and they were in the path of totality, which explained the special glasses.

They get Eclipses every 18 months, yet it takes 70 years for one to appear in the same spot again. So once Superious got word that a Lunar Eclipse was happening on Korriban, he wanted to go and see it. Besides, the force had been turbulent lately, a familiar turbulence of a Cyclone which heralded Cyclone Season, so he left before it made landfall.

Speeding through the landscape, he headed to the area where totality would occur. With this in mind, he did not need to go to the Ballroom. So he didn't have to dress up which is just as well, his nice clothes no longer fit properly, and the moths ate them. He made sure to put all the moths outside before he left UbaIV.

Using his speed bike, he travelled towards where it would happen, he kept it as The Maw collapsed in on itself and no one asked for it back since and, he wouldn't give it back if they asked.

 

[Darth Strosius]

The hundreds of lanterns and their wielders littered the Valley of the Dark Lords as the moons began aligning properly, a sea of shuffling feet and bowed heads that the soft glow of the lanterns illuminated in the otherwise dark valley. It had been many long years since Alisteri had walked the valleys himself, many long years since their splendor during the days of the Sith Empire. Too long perhaps.

In his defense though, it wasn't as if Korriban had been welcoming to him before now. His masked gaze wandered across the ancient structures and tombs on the hill that he had chosen to walk across, somewhat secluded from the wider crowds frequenting the more ornate and famous locations in the valley. The paper lantern that he had been gifted when he entered into the valley had been clipped onto the belt of his robes and gently bounced against his hip with each step, the dim light it provided wasn't needed after all. Not by him at least.

He mused on the, relatively, recent history of the ancient world. Wrenched from the hands of the Sith Empire by the Jedi, stolen by the lackeys of the Worm Emperor, and then savaged and desecrated by the Jedi of the Ashlan Crusade. "Forgive me dear Korriban." Now though it was back in Sith hands, albeit under the rule of the enigmatic Darth Caedes. And worst of all it was still in the domain of the Twice Failed Emperor. So much hardship for the sacred world, so much lost and destroyed in the fighting and struggling. "Forgive me for the injustices you have endured, and for those that you continue to suffer."

His gloved fingers ran across one of the ancient stone doorways as he mused on the past, wondering how many times this exact tomb had seen the light of day since it was first constructed. To be buried and then restored time and time again. A wonderous and yet tragic thing really. "One day you will be fully reclaimed and restored by the true Sith. Just be patient a short while longer."

 

[Darth Carnifex]

"They are quite numerous, aren't they?"

The voice came from the shadows, wholly unknown to the young Sith. As he would seek out the voice, he would come to see a figure half-hidden in darkness. But he could not discern their face, for it was hidden beneath a wide, voluminous brown hood. Their entire body was hidden beneath such attire, no light could reveal that which lay within even when shone directly upon it. They were an enigma, for they could not be sensed in the Force, though they appeared to emanate a deep, unknowable wisdom.

"Transgressions upon transgressions, violations without end. Even now, you see, that the revered tombworld has become a ground for revelry and decadence. In the palace they dance, while the tombs of the ancient forefathers are trod upon by those unworthy of laying eyes upon them." The figure moved, no, glided, across the sand-laden ground towards Alisteri. They were about equal in height, although the hooded figure seemed shorter, hunched over as though burdened with age.

The figure seemed to regard Alisteri curiously.

"What would you do to alleviate such sacrilege?"

Darth Strosius ​

 

[Annika Starfire]

Location: Korriban
Objective: Grow
Tags: Darth Nwul Rayth

Did she know enough not to be scared, or was it that she didn't know enough to know that she should be terrified? The teenager in a short space of time had gone from a holoinfluencer sat in her room casting a few party tricks and telling other girls how to be witches, to being picked up at a convention by one Sith Lord to finding herself under the tutelage of another. This new life intrigued her beyond measure, and the chance to be somebody and to learn secrets that she didn't know she had excited her so much it almost made her sick. But if she knew how much danger she would be in, would she have agreed to leave her old life behind.

The girl, adorned in purple with a matching mask walked in and looked around at the other guests, she had been told that the darkness she felt in her stomach was just her inexperience and that as she grew to have her own strength, others strength would push down on her less. Tonight was a test, of course it was, how would she act and respond amongst others, Darth Nwul had not even told her if he shall be attending. What should she do, she would explore the crowds, learn more about her new community and maybe make new acquaintances, if she didn't yet know how to be here for her master, she could be here for herself, and some of the other Sith... let's just say power is attractive, and the young teen realising that the males of her own age she had dated before were just boys.

"Can I have a drink... please" She asked at the empty bar and was quickly furnished by a headless barman. Her eyebrow raised at the macabre sight, part of her believing this was some animatronic trick, but another part just wanting to avoid that rabbit hole for now. "Thank you" she needlessly said, before turning back into the room. Her beautiful purple dress swayed behind her and the whole outfit made her feel quite lovely. The roughly cut purple crystal that she had not learned the true nature of hung around her neck and she felt its warmth as it reacted to so many powerful force users. ​

 

[Darth Strosius]

Darth Carnifex

Alisteri's gaze snapped away from the stonework and pillars littering the valley to instead search for the source of the unfamiliar and sudden voice, his senses in the Force branching out to assist at the same time. The Force had no answers but his eyes did spot the apparent source after a few quick yet tense moments of hunting. A figure shrouded in both robe and shadow, and seemingly the Force as well, stood not too far away from him. Perhaps one of the many pilgrims had been far quieter than he had given them credit for after all.

The masked man turned to regard the mysterious figure and nodded his head in acknowledgement as he responded. "Too many indeed." That the strange figure didn't count himself among those revelers making their visit to the valley this night was rather curious, but not aa curious as seeing how smoothly and effortlessly the figure seemed as they moved. Now that he did not care for at all.

"The answer is simple." He held his head high, perhaps in some attempt to try and peer into the darkness of the figure's hood, as he spoke. "The blood of the heretical and the treasonous must sate the ancient ground of Korriban. Nothing less can be expected as recompense for such sins against this holy world."

 

[Tarus Undara]

Korriban
Objective I

​

Tarus felt inexorably stuffy in his finery, like a walking façade among the celebrants and revelers. Luckily for him, the unsteady torchlight cast enough shadows to conceal his discomfort. He only hoped the others couldn’t sense the disdain.

Tonight was a night for rejoicing. Tarus did his best to mask any semblance of disinterest as he stepped through the crowd, flagging down one of the headless servants for a drink. He took a healthy sip of the thick, blood-red liquid, ignoring its flavor. His eyes scanned the room, looking for a corner dark enough to hide in while he nursed the rest of his wine when he noticed a brilliant purple dress.

The girl wearing it seemed just as out-of-place as he did, albeit it for different reasons.

Tarus elected not to approach, but rather tip his glass to her should she spot him. As usual, it was best for him not to attract attention. Blend, observe, plan… those steps had gotten him far in his past life as a Jedi.

Why wouldn’t they work now?

- Rayth | Annika Starfire -​

 

[Deyanira Draco]

( Ulysses Renoux )
​

Really, what was she doing on Korriban?

Deyanira Draco herself sought the answer. The noblewoman knew, vaguely, of this world and its deep ties to the Sith. Though, it had never been a world that she'd dreamed about setting foot on -- not until recently, when an enigmatic invitation arrived.

A force-user, Deyanira knew her own connection in was steeped in darkness. However, she had never counted herself among the Sith. She found them... uncouth. And they would need to work hard to change the widow's perception. The ghastly undead servants certainly weren't helping.

For the occasion, she'd dressed in a red -- finally shedding her gowns of mourning black. After all, it had been how long since her husband died? Ages. At least it felt that way. This trip to Korriban had freed her from the rather rigid traditions of home, at least for one night. Deyanira had chosen a simple mask for the evening.

Her graceful hand snatched a glass of champagne from a passing servant's tray. Deyanira brought the flute to her red lips, wondering for a fleeting moment if he had lured her here. She remembered the last time she'd seen the Duke; he'd nearly died. To this day, her feelings concerning this incident were mixed. But as far as he was concerned, Deyanira preferred he believe that she was disappointed. She sipped.

She knew she ought to turn her attention to the actual masquerade lest she sour her mood completely.

​

​

 

[Teresa Zambrano | Darth Pellax]

Apparel: Dark Valkyrie Armor, Mask
Weapons: Old Lightsaber , Revans Lightsaber , Svikin hjörtu

Black wings beat against the air as Teresa soared over the sandy world. Golden orange eyes peered down at the growing number of people, many moved towards the event she had been encouraged to go by Kaine. Regardless of how much Teresa hated the idea of attending a social event, the incentive was something that was well worth suffering.

A hand reached for and brought a white mask with red marking up to her face. At first it was uncomfortable till adjusting it down on decent. Each beat of Teresa's wings sent a gust that got stronger till both feet found ground. Her eyes snapped to the entrance walking with purpose, of course Teresa would avoid gathering like this at the best of times. That did not change the fact that she was here to represent Carnifex here.

Walking down the halls the occasional gaze turned towards the towering woman. Teresa however cared little for the art, the history and still Teresa took the time to look at every last piece along the way. Getting to the ballroom finally she walked further in now looking at the variety of masks and outfits, amongst those the servers where all headless corpses. Once more a low sharp sigh escaped in search of a decent table.

Though the dark pressure in the room was intense with all those present, she could not help but notice the differences between each. For the most part there was so much unrefined power leaking like water in a wicker basket.

Finally finding an empty table the woman reached her hand out towards a servant carrying a tray of drinks. As one lifts away, the base of the glass clinked against another. With great control it moved up and over the heads of a group conversing before resting on the table.

​

 

[Lord Kalrath]

Korriban
Tags: Open

​

A meeting with Darth Nwul had brought Kalrath home. Not in 5000 years had the old Sith stepped foot on Korriban, and under the leadership of the coward Viciate no less, an era he had mixed feelings about upon a great deal of self-reflection. It was a different age now, with different Dark Lords, and the ancient Twi'lek sought to familiarize himself with them, as any good scholar should. He did, at one point in his youth, find pleasure in the luxuries of the lavish and superfluous. It was a symbol of power, or at least a much younger him saw it as such. Now? It really didn't do much at all.

The man lifted his mask, throwing another drink down his mangled gullet. It washed down with little resistance, filling him with an empty sensation. Years of keeping himself alive through alchemical means had unseen effects on his body.

Kalrath could not get drunk, much to his dismay.

So he observed with curiosity, studying the strange structure that housed the event. Spirits danced through the air, ancient no doubt. The old Sith couldn't helop but wonder if he had met any of these individuals, comrads fallen thousands of years ago. Pondering such questions, as well as other greater secrets that Korriban held, all weighed heavily on the mind of the old man. He needed more knowlegde. He craved it.

If only he could get wasted to forget such a craving, just for a little bit.

Alas, his twenty-third drink would spill down his throat into his stomach, leaving the man feeling more empty than before.

 

[Granny Yevschenko]

LOCATION //: THE HOLY WORLD OF KORRIBAN
OBJECTIVE //: ATTEND THE MASQUERADE
TAGS //: OPEN
BOSS //: THEME

​

The Holy World of Korriban...

Some say that it was the most sacred planet of the Sith Order and its past generations ever since the Dark Jedi Exiles landed on the world and proclaimed themselves gods over the primitive inhabitants. There was little to admire on this dustbowl of a planet other than some long forgotten tombs of sith that had not achieved immortality or heights of great power; simply meant to spend millennia wasting away and grasping at the power they could never hold again. The Ashlan Crusade had done the Order a great favor by attempting to eradicate the world entirely as holding onto the past was a fools errand when the future presented so much more opportunities.

The Merchant of the Sith they called him decked out in a rather ornate ensemble but potent in both whit's and mind had not intended to attend this rather dreary event amongst others that lacked vision. Although professing himself as a loyal follower of Darth Carnifex's doctrine there was some doubt that the old dark sider had lost his touch when it came to ruling; after all having been bested in the civil war and allowing the corpse emperor to claim sovereignty over them all deciding to establish a smaller fiefdom within the claimed 'Holy Worlds'.

He was here for a singular purpose to find others that matched practical thinking in terms of industry and proper empire building. Clutching the ornate gold cane within gloved hands; tipped with ornate rings around the finger digits as flowing white and blue cape followed behind him. Following far behind the Sith Lord was two Decraniated servants.

"A rather droll party, filled with nothing but apathetic monsters and self proclaimed potent force users. Although I have no interest in measuring one's equipment."​

The voice flowed from parted lips as the single blood chalice of the sangnir was brought up to quench the red hunger that flowed through him.

 

[Ulysses Renoux]

H O U S E • R E N O U X​

Wearing: attire | mask
Tag: Deyanira Draco

He had sent the invitation to the masquerade to the Red Widow. Their relationship had been one of animosity from a particularly public point of view, and yet in the private moments they stole they had never been able to escape the truth. Tonight they would wear masks in order to shed the others they wore in public, or so the Duke had hoped. They were far from Braxant space, and despite the failure of their experiment, Ulysses had considered the venture to be worth taking. It had served to reunite him with a treasured part of his past, even if it made matters as complicated as anything he knew.

It had been a white envelope, gilded with flecks of gold filigree. Deyanira should have known, and yet, the noble abandoned his typical seal and sigil to create some semblance of mystery. He did not want her outright rejecting the invitation simply because of who it came from. She was petty and cruel enough to torture the man in such a way. Deyanira hated him, and yet… They could not stay away from each other. The gravitational pull between them was inescapable.

Ulysses Renoux was dressed in mostly white clothing. What was not white bore the gold secondary color of his house. A devilish mask did his forehead and hair to a degree. The beard and fragrance of his cologne would be unmistakable to her however.

He had arrived first, waiting, watching.

His eyes fell upon the bright color of her dress the moment she arrived. The Duke knew she would wear the primary color of her house to such an event. The way her hair was done also gave her away despite the mask. Ulysses had memorized her habits, movements, the cadence of her steps and the way her body swayed with each one.

She took a glass of champagne and watched, observing the floor for a moment. What was on her mind, he wondered. It did not matter, he would likely know soon as his stride carried him with a confidence she would know all too well. He lifted a fluted glass to his lips, sampling the liquid for himself. It seemed their hosts had spared no expense. He had been happy to receive the invitation, or the knowledge of it.

His lips spread into a smile as he stopped in front of the woman.

“So, you came after all.”

 

[Xander Blackmoore]

WEARING: xxx | xxx
WEAPONS: Lightsaber
TAG: Velda Nar-Donna

Parties were the way in which nobility conducted business. Oh there was about every boring meeting which one could conceive, but Xander had learned over time that any agreements made were often solidified among the gala’s and social events which followed. With the Pale Assassin dead, and the aspect of conquest still uncertain as to what remained of the fractured group of assassins he had once belonged to, Xander would begin to play a role he had not donned in sometime.

He would play the fool.

The throneless king would be aloof.

In order to play the part, he had to remain as any who knew might recognize him as he once had been. The young looking royal was never seen at such an event without an equally beautiful woman draped on his arm. For this evening, and for purposes he would not disclose, the assassin had asked Velda Nar-Donna, a noble from Corellia to join him. There were others he could have asked, he supposed, but they had fought at one time, and he knew what the woman was capable of should the event descend into what the Sith had been reduced to in recent years.

If the evening turned violent because the Sith could not stop comparing the size of certain appendages by constant posturing and positioning, Darth Vizios wanted a battle tested partner at his side. Should the evening proceed without incident, then he would enjoy the company of a beautiful woman, and perhaps share in her bed before the evening ended.

“The eclipse is nearing,” he spoke in a silvery tones.

Xander knew only one way to speak and that with eloquence and melody. His voice was smooth, seemingly untainted by the decay of the dark side which usually accompanied one of his tenure. Vizios knew that he was not the same as the likes of Empyrean or Carnifex. His designs had never been set on ruling an empire of the sith. Rather Xander was content with maintaining the legacy of his family name on the throne he stole centuries before. His power would never stand against the likes of several which would be in attendance, but it did not have to.

His mind was another matter entirely. What Vizios often lacked in raw power he made up for by knowing things others could not. His abilities in the arts of seeing into the future were second to none, even if time was always in flux. Whether he pulled secrets from the past, or predicted things to come, it was painted onto canvas and often became pieces of conversation. Very few knew what they were, and when a thing came to pass, it was replaced. Any permitted into his home would never understand his works as anything more than a favored pastime and passion.

“I am not ready to reveal my return just yet,” he whispered as he leaned into the woman’s ear. “With the Tsis’Kaar in ruins word of the White Assassin’s return would cause much more speculation than I am willing to endure.”

Xander offered his hand as he motioned to the dance floor.

“However, we would be remiss if we did not at least show everyone how this dance was meant to be done. Wouldn’t you agree?”

 

[Lucia Naberrie]

Location: Palace of Vardin - Korriban
Attire: Dress │ Shoes │ Mask
Dialogue Legend: <<Ghoul-Speak>> │ “Galactic Basic” │ <”ur-Kittât”>
Theme: All I Do Is Think of You
Tag: Rayth Annika Starfire Tarus Undara Lord Kalrath Xander Blackmoore Ulysses Renoux Volodimeru Avgustor Deyanira Draco Teresa Zambrano | Darth Pellax
Direct Engagement: Open

As a servant to Darth Xyrah, Lucia Naberrie had modeled clothes, competed in gladiator arenas, and even gone to fast food restaurants while working together with a partner. Although the gynoid had been around luxury for almost her entire existence, a masquerade ball was yet another affair that she was unfamiliar with. However, she had not attended the ball out of duty, but rather, due to encouragement from her master. In short, she needed to establish connections of her own to build up her own network of associates and partners, especially as her master sought to help build the Golden Covenant into a power capable of challenging the Eternalist throne.

Specifically, connections with Sith.

Having attired herself in a white dress, shoes that elevated her diminutive stature by six inches, and a fitting mask, Lucia arrived at the party with neither fanfare nor circumstance. Extra height afforded by her heels gave better view than she would have otherwise had of the headless undead servants moving through the crowd with trays of drinks and snacks. Then, there were also the dancing specters of Sith from ancient eras, perhaps celebrating the liberation of Korriban from the Ashlan Crusade. In a way, Lucia found the apparent joy of the undead Sith to be eerily endearing and rewarding. Through some of her own efforts, she had played a small part in freeing Korriban from the corruption that had taken hold of it under the Ashlan Crusade. And now, to see that the ancestral Sith were proud, brought her a level of satisfaction that rivaled the programmed, synthetic sense of accomplishment that she felt upon completing a mission for her master.

As a soft smile came over her features, Lucia offered the dancing undead a small, airy wave. Though they did not appear to immediately perceive the gesture, the gynoid was happy to acknowledge them for its own sake. They were not her ancestors (nor did she have any), but they were an eye to the past that Lucia could not help but to find herself drawn to.

In that regard, a part of the gynoid’s synthetic mind wondered if it might be possible for her to make connections with undead Sith.

 

[Gerwald Lechner]

WEARING: xxx
WEAPONS: Wolfsbane | Ferrum Solus | Blodmåne | Strømafbryder
TAG: Naedira Darcrath

Gerwald had never been one for social events, especially those involving dancing. It had been a longstanding excuse he would often use that he did not dance, and there was only one person who had ever seen fit to call him on the lie. Tonight, she was on his arm. The wolf would have been in a state of utter euphoria and surrealism had it not been for the environment which surrounded them. It irked the lupine to no end, and not because it was a party full of Sith.

It was a celebration where the veil between life and death were thin.

He could not help but feel nervous for Naedira, and even for himself. While Gerwald was certain the thing Srina had done was binding and permanent, there had been too many moments over the past decade where nights like this had led to ethereal moments that reminded the wolf he had failed to keep his promise to the woman he loved.

The eclipse tugged at the beast inside. For the wolf it was unnatural that the heavens would mess with the order of nature. He could deal with it. He had before. Gerwald had learned how to keep his wolf from getting too excited over something that would fade as fast as it came on. Naedira had not learned to cope with such a thing yet, and the complication that she could not shift only made Gerwald feel the tension of the situation all the more.

All of it had been worth it. Srina had told him what it would cost, and even then there had been unforeseen consequences to the price Gerwald paid. In the end, Naedira was alive, and they were together. She had chosen him as much as he had wanted her. The wolf refused to allow his mind to wonder how much of that had been his own memories and desires projected upon the woman. He could not, not with knowing the wolf he sensed in her was not his, but her own. It was as unique as any other.

The evening would be special to them regardless. It was their first since their days in the Confederacy, before her death. They had not been together like this since the night he realized it was not just their bond which made him feel the way he did for the woman. He still could picture the champagne colored gown she had worn, and the way she had teased him by giving him the fruity cocktail. The wolf had stolen a drink of her whiskey regardless.

Gerwald had offered the same excuse that night when she asked to dance.

I don’t dance…

…Liar…

It was the memory he had used to help Naedira gain control of the she-wolf, or at least distract her so that she would start breathing again. He did not have to ask if she remembered it, because for a time it was where they lived. She had to have known the regret which came with not telling her the truth that night. Even if he was certain her feelings in that moment would not have been the same, Gerwald should have told her.

Life was a series of moments, and the sum of opportunities taken, and the difference of those passed by. Her death had hit him harder because he had said nothing, which was why Gerwald had now resolved to never hide what he felt or thought where Naedira was concerned. Their bond would betray him every time, but it would not need to. The lupine was an open book to her.

His eyes rose to meet the stalwart Sith which could be seen conversing with Darth Strosius as Gerwald led them toward the palace. Darth Carnifex was related to a Sith Gerwald desperately wanted to kill. Naedira had made Gerwald promise not to. It did not matter that Gerwald was no longer the weak pup which had run off to what should have been his death. Prazitus would have killed him had it not been for the fact Srina Talon interrupted the sadistic whims of the Mountain. That had given Gerwald more time and deeper resolve.

The pup had grown into a terrifying wolf. His servitude was the only thing hiding his true power. As long as he was seen as Empyrean’s lap dog none would know the truth.

With the Pale Assassin dead, there were only three in the Order he could name which were more powerful than him. One they had just passed by, and the other two had earned his fealty.

His eyes fell back to the woman at his side. A smile pulled at his lips as they made their way to start their night off with drinks.

“A whiskey for me… and the lady here will have one of those fruity cocktails.”

Gerwald nudged Naedira with his shoulder, and when he had her attention, he winked.

 

[Diodoros]

Location: Korriban - Palace of Vardin
Tag: Lord Kalrath | OPEN

The golden man wasn’t used to this kind of setting. He enjoyed parties, a great way to have a fun experience without needing to skewer something. But he was more used to the kind of parties that Hutts organized. They’re more rowdy and gluttonous decadence appealed more to Diodoros than this more prim and proper setting. This seemed like the kind of thing his handlers would’ve enjoyed more. Better suited for networking and being busy instead of having a good time in his eyes.

The brawny man was also rather uncomfortable in his attire. His over-muscled physique often didn’t mesh well with more formal clothes. Diodoros ditched the jacket, instead simply wearing white shirt, a black vest and tie. Along with some matching dress pants. But at least it looked nice. Even if he felt like his clothes would simply explode if he just flexed some. He almost completely forgot about needing to wear a mask as well. Fortunately he did manage to get something for himself. It was a sleek white mask that covered his face. The color matches his rather pale hair and shirt.

For his own sake, Diodoros chose to believe that the spectors above the ballroom were merely some impressive holograms. The idea of them being actual ghosts would be too much for him to handle and render him a frightened mess. Although he didn’t really pay the headless servants much mind. He actually found them to be quite interesting.

In his hand Diodoros had a glass of wine. Moving his mask some he took a sip of it before frowning some. He didn’t really like the taste of it. It seemed like even the food and drink had a bit of sterileness to it. Diodoros missed the more grimy decadence of the Hutts compared to what these Sith types had going for them. As one of the headless servants passed by with an empty tray, the golden man placed it on the moving platform before letting out a sigh.

He looked over to a pale twi’lek he was standing near. Pretty tall compared to most of the other folks around here too. They also seemed similarly dejected with their drink(s) as well. “I guess I’m not the only one. I knew I’d sooner burst from a water balloon before I felt a buzz from grape juice they’re serving here.” He said with a hearty chuckle and smile from behind his mask.​

 

[Darth Carnifex]

The figure appeared to nod in agreement, though all that was conveyed was an inclination of the hood. "For the Sith to survive, they must drain themselves of bad blood. It is a necessary action, but a dangerous one. To open one's veins is simple, but to close the wound and staunch the bleeding? It is not always so simple. Too little blood is worthless, but too much blood is fatal." He walked towards Alisteri, but veered off and began to approach a statue that had been erected nearby. It was not the original, that had been ground by time, neglect, and war. Portions of it remained, chiefly the base and portions of the legs, but the rest had been a complete restoration.

"See here, the mighty Naga Sadow. A paragon of the Sith's earliest history, the Dark Lord who brought about the first war between the Jedi and the Sith. His political maneuvering and military campaigns mattered little when his own apprentice turned against him, and his rival Ludo Kressh attempted to remove him from power just as the Republic attacked Korriban. For all of his failings, Naga Sadow is still a revered figure among the Sith Order today, highly venerated by many practitioners of the Dark Side." The figure turned to regard Alisteri, the barest glimmer of a pair of eyes peering out from beneath the voluminous hood.

"Korriban fell, and the Republic wiped it clean. But here it remains, a bulwark against infinity. The sins of the forefathers are forgotten or excused, and all that remains is their veneration." He gestured towards the palace, "What will be the legacy of those who dance in the halls of power now, young Sith?"

Darth Strosius ​

 

[Darth Malum of House Marr]

Objective 1: Masquerade

Wearing: Clothes | Mask

Traitor.

The voice of Ophidia rang in his head, a constant, unending, melody. It had not stopped. It would not stop. Sometimes his bloodshot eyes swore... in the peripherals of his sight, from the barest edge of his vision, he saw the blackened cloak. It was lucky that none could see how manic, how crazed his bloody eyes had become.

Betrayer.

His breathing was growing harsher, coarser, the gulp of the crimson liquid from his goblet did not help it any.

Turncoat.

Shut up.

Just shut up.

Please.

Conspirator.

"I did what I had to survive, for Ali to survive, for the Tsis'Kaar to survive." He whispered harshly to the wind, to no one at all. Still holding enough sanity, to make certain that no one would hear him muttering to himself like some insane old man.

If only just.

Deserter.

His breathing hitched.

Get out of my head, getoutofmyhead, GETOUTOFMYHE-

His hand brushed against the burning brand that was his amulet, and for a moment, the darkness, the figure in his peripheral, all disappeared.

He could see.

Korriban, the Masquerade Ball.

While others danced, made merry, and celebrated... celebrated whatever little nicety was enough for the Sith to celebrate... the eclipse? Something of that sort.

He instead was off to the side, it had been his third glass, but the night was still young, and his mind, soul, and body, demanded further. For as the burning liquid was to its won't, a potent poultice in its almost magical ability to silence the voice within his mind, numb the pain which he felt all over his soul.

Forget, what he had done to bring himself here.

Of course, there was still a very potent reason to not lose himself to the vice of the intoxicant.

He was not here alone. Disregarding the peons who danced their circles, content to remain slaves to their destinies and fates. Those who he could so easily... rip asunder.

He blinked, at the rogue thought disappeared, glancing down upon the cracked glass, and his bleeding finger. The thought had not been his, but the one which had entered his mind regardless.

He was not alone here. Many he did not know, but some which he did, he knew Ali would be somewhere around here, sulking around the corridors perhaps, looking outside a balcony and moaning at the unworthiness of those who ruled this world.

His sisters were also about, in better times, he might have been stalking them, making certain all knew that if they did anything untoward, they would lose their limbs.

Unfortunately, the drink had well and truly deserved more of his focus tonight.

He was sure those who would keep their limbs would be appreciative... and maybe, just maybe, his sisters would appreciate not having their brother hover around them, like some eagle or hawk, simply readying to strike.

Preposterous, but he could blame that on the drinks of course.

His apprentice was not in attendance, the last Gala had not exactly been kind, so he understood. Still, he did wish she was here, beyond his own troubles, the celebration was a good one, would be a regret to miss it.

He took down a mental note to bring her back something.

That was if his mind was still his own.

Of course, another joy of these kinds of celebrations were that Sith women even at the best of times... could be considered rather libertine. He had already seen far more than he could have bargained for, from dresses that left very little to the imagination. The sad fact was he was not even looking, but he supposed, that being able to hide your identity behind a mask, left much more confidence for you to do what you would never consider amongst more... polite society.

Considering his head was growing rather heady, normally, it would have been the time that he tried his luck on the floor. After all, wine, woman, and song, what a better combination to make your mind simply... shut up.

Of course, he had very little intention to do that. For there was a reason beyond genteelness, and limited self-control that he was not already a drunken mess upon the floor.

The first of three dates.

Adeline Noctua was to be on his arm tonight, and beyond how broken his mind was growing. If there was one light to this evening, then it would be that... he might finally have a chance with the woman of his dreams for near half a decade.

It was rather pathetic when put like that, wasn’t it?

Deceiver.

He tried his best to ignore the silent spectre of his Mistress standing before him.

 

[Mazrith Drihl]

Location: Korriban
Intentions: Observe and Interact
Tags: Open

Mazrith stood looking towards the center of the room, listening to the various words and discussions floating about. He had come as a guest to a Sith scholar, whom Mazrith had befriended only a few days after arriving on the world. They had exchanged texts and had discussed recent events, finding great interest in each other. Now he found himself wearing a simple outfit and mask, waiting for the moment to enter a conversation.

Tonight was a night of celebrations for the Sith population on Korriban, a day of festivities and celebration. Mazrith had decided that he should accept the invitation and take part in some Sith culture.

A few of the headless servants passed him. They made Mazrith a bit uneasy, he found their existence to be unnatural and wrong. However this was not his place to speak out, as a guest in another's home. Mazrith kept such thoughts to himself and looked elsewhere for distractions.

He noticed that he was not the only acolyte at this event, a handful of others were in attendance. He wondered if they were in the melee that had ended recently. Mazrith was interested in competing in such an event, but found himself caught up in other affairs elsewhere. Mazrith sighed, he saw no one he had met formally, a symptom of his short time on world no doubt. However he had hoped to be more active in the social aspects here and to try and gain acquaintances. His lack of attendance in any classes available at the Sith Academy may have also damaged his attempts towards connections. Mazrith had always preferred to learn from willing teachers instead of a formal class environment. Perhaps tonight he could get a piece of the experience he wanted so badly.