Populate Dies Festus Mortourum | SO Populate of Tellyr Prime

[Rayth]

Annika Starfire

Rayth had been more comfortable navigating the dark maze of the grand melee than the social circles of Sith hierarchy. Darth Reprimar had set him free without a map.

He was naturally gifted at murder and betrayal in the darkest corners of society. Surviving for as long as possible in the maze had come naturally to him.

This would not.

Perfume and pheromones. Beating hearts and fluttering pulses. The wrong word and his life could be over. It was not only harder to navigate, it was fraught with more danger. More danger than taking on the entire pack of academy students.

Rayth meandered to the bar without incident. The creature behind it had been alive. It was no apparition, but it had no pulse. A parade of death. A demonstration of power, or a warning. The smile beneath his mask was thin as he accepted a tall glass of wine.

He turned slowly, taking a moment to survey the floor. Rayth had survived on scraps and the blood of nighttime revelers in the back alleys of home. There was something enticing about the opulence, despite the dangers.

"I saw you at the Melee," Rayth said plainly, coming to stand beside the girl in the purple dress. It was hardly a polite introduction, but no one had taken the time to teach the feral creature some manners.

 

[Annika Starfire]

Location: Korriban
Objective: Grow
Tags: Darth Nwul Rayth Tarus Undara

Annika took in more and more of her surroundings, it was very interesting the types that had been drawn in. She raised her glass back in response to Tarus Undara she might have walked her own way over there but was quickly greeted by a young man. She could see little of his face, owing to the masks but judging by his cheek bones, chin and general complexion she assumed he wasnt much older than her.

"I saw you at the Melee,"

Her eyes widened for the shortest of moments... say something, you have fifteen seconds. That was how it worked in her world, if what you said in the first 15 seconds wasn't polished enough they would move on and be lost forever to the algorithm.

"Or so you think?..." she replied, tapping her purple nails against her face mask. It was hardly surprising, considering the lengths she had gone to find an outfit that sang in the colour of her personality. Her heart was racing and her nerves would be evident to anyone using the force, but she smiled at the young man and held out her hand palm down as if to be kissed, mimicking the behaviour of some of the older female attendees. "Annika... that event was quite something wasn't it. I got in but... damn." she laughed nervously, she remembered losing her control against the man that attacked them. Nobody would tell the sixteen year old if she had killed him, as much as she had asked, her smile began to break as the not knowing gnawed at her, but she steeled herself and returned the well trained smile to her face, she supposed she could just wonder, it was not her problem any more.

"How did you find it?" She asked, putting those cares behind her and fiddling with her kyber necklace.
​

 

[Darth Empyrean]

There was a stir first in the Force, then the Crowd as a great Darkness approached. Its sensation was familiar to many there; and yet it was all the more oppressive for its recognition. That which crept on the skin like a sheen of oil was the Dark Lord - he who had come from the Gromani Sector for this soiree.​

​

The doors slid open as a precession led before him; a dozen Praetorian guards. Sith so renowned for their combat prowess and ability to fight they were raised above the rabble to serve the Emperor directly - at the honorable cost of their inclusion in the great game of meritocracy. Each had no further ambition, a trait uncommon to the Sith, and strode with the confidence of a knight a thousand years in the making.​

​

Behind them walked the Dread Empress - beautiful as she was, adorned in a dress of her own choice. She walked with the grace of a warrior who had specialized in the finesse of combat more than the power, like a Rose missing its thorns - but those who knew understood they were simple hidden away for the moment. A mask adorned her features, but there was no doubt from the figure to the braid behind her who this was.​

​

Yet last to enter, as each was led to their seats, was the Emperor himself. Darth Empyrean strode forth into the gathering to a few gasps for those who had never seen him in person or thought his wounds to be simple rumors. The Dead God made his name true before their very eyes before he moved towards the throne set aside for him. He lacked a mask, there would be no question who he was no matter what he tried - so he simply forgoed the practice entirely.​

​

He found his seat next to his Dread Empress Srina Talon - and then rested a gentle, cold hand atop hers. Sitting back, he watched the crowds stir - and a few attempt to build the courage to present themselves to him and his Queen. Eventually, many would, but he enjoyed the anxiety he felt stirring in the air despite themselves.​

​

Tag: Srina Talon // Open​

 

[Darth Strosius]

Darth Carnifex

"Blood can always be replenished, renewed, but the poison within it can multiply as well. Better to spill the lot of it to ensure purity." Alisteri didn't flinch nor move back as the hooded figure approached him, although there was a very subtle release of tension in his shoulders when he veered away from the masked man. He held no such qualms about the spilling of blood, of the eradication of the unworthy and treacherous elements in their midst. With how deeply so many of them were ingrained he couldn't afford to.

His gaze ran up and down the statue as the figure recited history at him, as though he didn't already know of it, and his gaze narrowed on the brief glimpse of eyes within the otherwise dark hood. "The forefathers of the Sith, Naga Sadow included, fought for the Sith and guided them so very close to victory. Their failures were rarely result of their own doings, but rather the treachery of others that believed themselves more worthy in one form or another." There was a stark difference between failure and sacrilege after all, even if both were unacceptable to the Sith.

"As for now?" The masked man spared a glance at the palace in the distance and reaffirmed his decision to take a stroll in the valley rather than join in the festivities there. Malum would be there to represent the pair of them for the public as he usually did, so there was no point in him having to suffer the presence of nobles and lords. "Now we are mired in the treasonous and heretical sort that killed the Sith victories of old just as they do now. Even up to the highest level there is nothing but decadence and blasphemy. Nothing but heads awaiting their long overdue execution."

 

[Osisa]

Volodimeru Avgustor //OPEN
​

Finally, an event where wearing a mask was not only expected, but required!

Draped in fine robes accented with golden threading, the Jensaa’s slight form drifted idly around the periphery of the ballroom floor. A semi-corporeal spirit cobbled together from souls of the dead during the revitalization ritual on Thule, Osisa had lived a dozen lives, and yet had barely begun her own. Wielding the Force came easily to her; social situations did not.

She was never without her mask - plastoid features molded into that of a young woman, wreathed with dark synth-hair made her feel less conspicuous. A swath of dark fabric and lace tied over where her eyes would be, partially obscured by her hood, completed the look.

At last, she felt as though she fit in.

The ghost procured a delicate flute of something bubbly from a passing headless server, and upon the realization that she could not drink, simply held it. Her own reflection in the curved glass was enough to please her; with her immaterial arms gloved and her skirts touching the floor, she appeared entirely human.

She spent the next few minutes admiring the projections as they danced, occasionally following their gaze as they picked out something interesting in the crowd.

"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.”

<“Equipment?”> The Jensaa inquired telepathically, a quiet, feminine voice whispering inside the sangnir’s mind as she drifted closer. <“What do you mean by that?”>

 

[Tarus Undara]

Korriban
Objective I

​

The fallen Jedi couldn’t help but notice the winged woman enter the room.

If it wasn’t her towering presence that commanded attention, it was the stunning white mask she hid her face behind. Tarus felt suddenly naked, realizing he’d neglected to don one himself. At least that was a sin easily forgiven; He wasn’t here on behalf on anyone else, nor was he an icon himself that should be adorned with an ornate accessory.

Maybe the gathering of Sith would find it respectable that he bore his own face this evening.

He took another reluctant gulp of the blood-wine before resolving to approach Teresa Zambrano | Darth Pellax at her table. Tarus had already resigned to isolation this evening, but part of him wondered if it were better to make at least one memorable appearance. If nothing else, she’d gut him for trying to join her and this whole nightmare would be over.

A few short steps, and he was within comfortable earshot from her.

“Lovely evening,” he said, with the slightest hint of sarcasm.

“I’m Tarus. Mind if I join you?”

- Teresa Zambrano | Darth Pellax -​

 

[Granny Yevschenko]

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

​

A cracking noise interrupted the act of drinking from the blood chalice as a forced telepathic link broke through the mental barriers of the Sangnir Highblood. Telepathy was a known force ability assessable by both the sith and jedi orders but rarely used unless one was mute or needed stealth to accomplish their objective in a timely fashion.

Glancing around for the source of this mental intrusion until the faint shadow of something caught eye retina, establishing a form but very faint and possibly feminine in direct origin. Avgustor had studied the aspects of the force including force ghosts but this was something different, far more established than simply willing yourself from the netherworld of the force when your tomb was disturbed.

"It is a shame that you are a caporal shadow and not a fully fleshed out being, otherwise I could show you the equipment in question and you might enjoy yourself. But alas there is no pleasure in touching the non existent."

The Merchant of the Sith said in a blunt sort of way; finding it beneath the sith to mince words. He would have loved a mingle with a women instead of having to attend this event despite the immense power and presence of the Sith Emperor Darth Empyrean and the Dread Queen herself. But there was no one here suitable to his exotic taste certainly not this shadow of a being.

"But enough about myself, how are you. Miss..."

The faint tone of a voice could be heard wafting from parted lips. It would be rude not to ask the person's name so that he could further thrash them at the negotiation table. To see their entire life crumble into dust and debt while he looked on ever triumphally.

 

[Teresa Zambrano | Darth Pellax]

Apparel: Dark Valkyrie Armor, Mask
Weapons: Old Lightsaber , Revans Lightsaber , Svikin hjörtu
Tags: Tarus Undara [open]

The ebb and flow of the rooms atmosphere was like a complex puzzle to Teresa. The room filled to the brim with those she so desired to toy with, to push over the edge, knowing full well many here had short fuses. There was no room for her style of pure ecstatic joy and it was infuriatingly souring her mood.

Tilting the mask away from her mouth and lifting the glass of red drink up. The smell was rather aromatic with a smoky scent beneath the layers. Upon the taste it made her eyes scrunch at its powerful flavor swishing over Teresa's tongue, however it's second sip became a delectable bittersweet flavor.

lowering the mask back down a voice to her side garnered Teresa's attention. With a slow blink golden orange orbs had already snapped to the gentlemen. From his tone she assumed this Tarus was as displeased. "Lovely for those who revel in wasting their lives with such formalities."

With a light gesture she pushed a chair out for the man to sit. "Teresa, and you are welcome to. I came over here because that," pointing to the crowds, "is not my thing. However I agreed to attend and represent K─" The flow of words stopped abruptly when Teresa realised, it was one of those rare moments where she had to use his title rather than name like she prefered. "Darth Carnifex. Never did understand what that entails regardless, here I am."

​

 

[Srina Talon]

Location: Korriban [Palace of Vardin]
Attire: XoXo
Tag: Darth Empyrean | Arkryion Malachar [OPEN]
______________________________________________________​

This Day of the Dead celebration in Holy Sith Space was not what she had expected upon receiving a missive from Korriban. News of plague, feminine, war, or rebellion? An incursion with Jedi, pirates, or mercenaries that were slow to realize that the Sith had returned home? All these things seemed easily plausible, but, a worldwide celebration? It was orchestrated not only by the Kainite but by the people and perhaps, even, the King of Korriban.

It had to have been endorsed by the ruling class or else an invitation would have never made its way to their hands. Pressed with and embossed with an Eternal seal with respect to the recipient. None would dare forge such a thing, nor, would they have access to it. Were such merriment not permissible by those that governed the world…It would have never happened at all.

The silvery woman would need to remember to speak to Darth Carnifex or Darth Caedes to thank the appropriate party for providing a gathering designed to unify the Order. It was ostentatious, and over the top, but spoke to the importance of remembering ancestry. Of finding not sorrow in death—But strength in the legacy that had been left behind. She wondered what an appropriate gift might be for the consideration and attention to detail…but what did one procure for men who had everything?

With that in mind Srina had spent countless hours in the Archives of the Malsheem doing research to prepare for what could have either been an elaborate trap or an interesting adventure. Darth Carnifex seemed to delight in the way she absorbed the information he had stashed away, though, there was also a perverse sense of amusement in the way she drove his chief archivist out of his mind. Srina couldn't deny that there was a small thrill to be had in stepping foot on Korriban…Even if she didn't hold any religious zealotry for it. She knew a great deal about that area of space…

But not enough.

The Empress prepared for it as if it were a tactical mission. Instead of trying to discern what color she ought to wear or what mask might suit her…She concerned herself with the best place to conceal weaponry and communication devices. It wasn't that she expected anything untoward to take place but the need to be prepared was built into her DNA. Getting ready for an event such as this found the small Queen likening it to the eve before battle. A time to plan, prepare, and plan a little more. In her eyes…They were merely trading one war for another.

A war she was far less equipped to handle. Socializing as one might imagine was not high in the Echani curriculum…Which often led to either extremely positive or extremely negative results.

The Palace of Vardin was all that she expected it to be. Carefully, restored. The dark-lit beauty that it brought to bear was only coupled with the mysterious eclipse that she had only read about. Never seen with her own eyes. The wintry woman had long since grown accustomed to the fanfare that accompanied her official presence and nothing could be moreso than entering at the side of the Sith Emperor. Her face was partially hidden by a mask of crimped metallic silver…But quite like Empyrean she accepted that hiding was futile.

No one else would be seated in this chair with her fingers wrapped possessively around that of their Corpse King. Her clothing had been chosen for her. Regardless of what Empyrean assumed…His bride rarely ever chose her own clothing for these events. Were she given a selection of armor to choose from? Certainly. But this? Large formal events, gatherings, that required her wit not her sword?

It was not entirely within her wheelhouse.

Still.

When the procession finished and the whispers increased her expression schooled itself into an emotionless mirror. She was resplendent in red and silver, a vision, that unintentionally commanded attention amidst a sea of masks and mystique. The silken cascade of white hair that flowed down her back in intricate braids and knots remained in stark contrast to the rich hues of her gown. Burnished golden eyes looked out among the crowd and within could be glimpsed of something impossible. A quiet confidence that lent toward the existence of galaxies in her iris. As she relaxed, slowly, her spirit seemed to exhale and the scent of jasmine and rain filtered through the area.

It was the way she held herself that oft caused others to defer with a glance. It could be…Startling. A particular carriage and bearing that could only be learned through sheer force of will. She would never debase herself, never, turn her back on her ideologies. Srina had no deeper desire, no darker secret, and failed to take advantage of any feigned anonymity. Everything that she craved in a personal sense…Sat on the throne beside her.

His hand in her own. Dead or alive.

Her chin lifted just slightly when she caught side of a fairly new addition to her retinue. He was weaving amongst the rather boisterous crowd with a grace and elegance that defied what should have been capable from a man so tall. His hair was similar to her own, braided, because she had done it herself before departure. Her husband would recognize the design if only because he had learned many of them for her sake. This one bespoke loyalty. "There…Just near the fountain."

"That is the student that I told you about, Arkryion Malachar . He is bright with a wealth of potential. Devoted and—", she trailed off, though, the corner of her lips twitched at the memory of the last time they'd had this discussion. There were deeply intermingled complexities of the two notions that left having both at the ready an ineffable boon. "—Loyal. You know that I have never taken an apprentice…"

"I truly believe that he…Is the one. The one I should pass my knowledge to."

Empyrean would never deny her something so personal. It took her monumental effort to find like beings in her strange oddities. The fact that Arkryion understood her lessons was a marvel all by itself. He didn't question her perspectives, but more than most, tried to understand them. It was her hope that she could one day teach their children in a similar manner…But now was not the time. In the interim…It was the duty of the Empress to watch over the up-and-coming Sithlings in the nation.

To ensure that they thrived, when they crossed her path, rather than let them wither and die. Whether or not they rose to heights even greater than that of her husband, herself, or any of the other Lord Sith was entirely irrelevant. The future was all that mattered…

And she refused to let the little tinkerer wither.

"Try not to scare him, meldanya."

 

[Sophia of House Marr]

​

Tag: Darth Malum of House Marr | Darth Nwul [OPEN]
Location: Korriban
Objective: Masquerade
Wearing: Expensive
___________

Quote of the Moment:
"The strength of a family, like the strength of an army, lies in its loyalty to each other."
___________​

"I see you, brother."

As if she'd materialized from thin air the youngest of House Marr appeared beside her brother. It wasn't at all the case. She'd been standing beside Malum for quite some time before realizing he was lost in a world all his own. He wouldn't have heard her rambling about this and that, nor, about the state of some of the guests. It was only when the masked man didn't respond…She knew.

"Hey."

The light touch to his shoulder was accompanied by a less-than-delicate pout at being so thoroughly ignored. It was an expression that would easily be familiar, even with, the red-eyed domino mask that she wore. The ruddy reddish orange accents of her black party frock easily fell in line with her continual representation of her House. Her eldest sibling hadn't requested it this time but it made little difference to Sophia. Red gems were woven into the fabric of her clothing, dotting her hair, and clung beautifully around her neck. This was a holy place for their people.

Sophia saw no reason why she ought to skimp and dress like a poor.

Even though this worldly celebration seemed to be of the peasants, for the peasants, by the peasants.

It was heretically pleasing and the little princess of the Marr household intended to enjoy the evening to its fullest. It bothered her that her brother, drink in hand, didn't seem to share her sentiment. "…I see you.", she murmured, petulantly sweet as always. Onyx hair had been styled into deliberately luxurious waves and there were twin feathers decorating the quaffs on either side. She didn't wear a traditional crown but with the way her pale skin carried an air of regality? Few would be the wiser.

Malum was…A silhouette. Their dimly lit surroundings only reinforced the melancholic guilt that she felt reverberating around him. She could feel something else, even, from a distance. Sophia wasn't as well connected as her brother had become but she had her friends that liked to gossip. Spread the word. She had an idea of what had befallen him, what ailed him, but was ill-equipped to address. Regardless…He seemed haunted. "Malum…", she repeated a little sharper, this time.

Her cultured voice cut through the ambient noise of the Masquerade with the clean cut of the sharpest knife. The word carried a hint of familiarity and a hint of reproach. Sophia had seen his struggle, his internal battles, and it frustrated her. "What darkness has gripped your mind tonight?"

This night…And every other night, since, he had returned from a venture no one wanted to speak of. Her difficulty in accepting his current mindset fell away while she refused to let it linger. (Frowning only made wrinkles appear that much earlier in women, of course.) She let go of him so that he might turn away from the crowd and face her. Sophia…Doubted that he would share his woes with her.

Not because he didn't trust her, but, because he wanted to protect her. Malum had always tried to do that. She couldn't imagine now being any different. "I know…What you think you need to do. But dwelling in the shadows won't change the past…It'll drive you mad if you let it. Can you not let this celebration be a reprieve, even, just for the evening?"

She only asked that Malum try to let the night unfold. Perhaps, dance with his mysterious partner if they chose to arrive. Maybe even find that lovely Jedi both he and every other Sith she knew seemed inexplicably drawn to. (Was that jealously? Of course, just a touch.) The raven-haired woman would have weathered any indignity if only to see her brother not…Suffer. And it was, suffering.

Sophia reached up and tilted her mask off so that he might see pleading red eyes that were so near to his own. It was a plea for him to let go. To find solace. Even, if only for the duration of the masquerade. There would be plenty of time for him to brood in the comfort and security of the Marr Estate. His distraction in a public venue could be costly. This was a party. The party to end all parties as it encompassed an entire world and all social classes...But they were all still Sith.

Loyal to themselves, their goals, and their own ambitions.

Sophia did not want Malum taken advantage of by any number of…Less than reputable parties. The wrong drink could land him on a torture rack or a Jedi prison. (It couldn't possibly have been that she worried for a brother, whom, she loved very much. Unthinkable!) Her face fell into the familiar winsome state that often got her whatever she wanted at home. Her eyes went soft, expression, almost pained should he deny her the one thing she wanted. "Please?"

 

[Naedira Darcrath]

WEARING: Gold | Ulveand
TAG: Gerwald Lechner

"I feel fine at the moment."

The reassurance that she offered to the lupine that kept such a watchful eye on her person was a necessary one. She could feel him worrying about what it might mean to skate the line between life and death on Korriban…But her eyes only lingered through her mask. Watching ghosts of long dead Sith perform traditional dances that she had never learned. "I promise. If anything starts to get hinky…You'll be the first to know."

She had been taken shopping by the attendants that served the Empress and had been floored by how aghast they were at buying something off the rack. They took her out to find fabric not to actually find a dress and a mask. Naedira didn't know anyone else that might have been able to take her to gather some necessities because everyone she knew from her former life with two exceptions was dead, a betrayer, or missing in action. Even her family…Dead. Missing.

Possibly in hiding…

But the general consensus from Coruscant was that the majority of the Darcrath brood had bit the bullet. They were space dust. If she could have remembered all their faces, she might have felt more of a loss…But she still felt a deep hollow. A great sadness, for the things she couldn't recall.

The clothing she wore was the finest thing she owned. Even though she'd never considered herself to be overly obsessed with things she considered to be "feminine" she had spent an embarrassingly long amount of time just watching the gold fabric move in the light. It was a childish response that she could only be glad that Gerwald hadn't caught her doing. The fabric had a lustrous hold hue that was reminiscent of molten sunlight. It held to her torso then cascaded at the waist in gentle folds.

She had done her own hair, though, not without difficulty. It was one of the things that she had forgotten how to do. It looked…Nicer than she'd expected. The gold mask on her face was also an interesting addition. It obscured her peripheral vision enough that she felt a little off kilter but she was adjusting easily enough. Especially, with the warmth of the wolf at her side. The topaz glint in her eyes that had once been extinguished by death now sparkled with soft vitality.

She was filled with nervous energy but excited at the same time.

To be…Out in the world. It was a gift that most people took advantage of without thinking. She was grateful to the sacrifices Gerwald had made for her, for them, and the weight of those choices lingered in the air like an unspoken promise. She cast the much taller man a sidelong glance and caught the well-placed smile and wink. He was handsome naturally, but charming, when he wanted to be. There was a shared understanding, a silent acknowledgement, of the memories that such a gathering represented.

It was one of the few things she remembered for herself.

She followed his eyes and Naedira's gaze briefly lingered on Darth Carnifex and Darth Strosius . The olive-skinned woman felt like she should have known them…But she didn't. Not on sight at least, which, was probably for the best. If she learned of the relation of the former to The Mountain there was no telling if she would have been able to keep her wolf in check. There was an intricate web of intrigue and power dynamics that surrounded the pair, but for now, it was none of her concern.

It was a night to revel in each other's company and remember their long dead leaders.

Not to seek trouble where there was none to be had.

"A fruity cocktail it is…", Naedira responded with a playful smile, as the mention of drinks, her voice a melodic counterpoint to Gerwald's gruffer tones. She leaned up, her lips brushing against his ear as she whispered, "And maybe, just maybe, I'll convince you to dance later."

The echo of his past refusal to dance, a whispered secret between them, brought a teasing light to chocolate-colored eyes. Naedira understood the importance of embracing life's moments as living and breathing was a luxury. Not a right. She let her hand graze Gerwald's as the drinks were brought by a headless server, which, caused her to blink, but it was a subtle connection that reaffirmed the bond that had brought her back from the realm of the dead.

She took the whiskey and left him the fruity drink with a smirk.

That at least was very familiar.

 

[Darth Nwul]

Korriban, blessed and without peer, Korriban, my beloved Korriban, home of my people, heart of my darkness, resting place of my spirit, oh my Korriban, may your wicked valleys ever remember the blood that I spill for you, I- <the remainder of the script was lost during the Jedi purge of Sith history and culture>

- Unknown Sith Poet, Excerpt

The umbran halls of the palace of Vardin were both engulfed with gloom and laid bair with illumination. Pockets of inky dark made for places where malefactors could ply their trade and speak their secrets. Within one such shadow hung a resplendent tapestry that framed a mirror ringed with glossy obsidian. It sat in silence, reflecting nothing as light refused to reach its surface.

To the sound of a single droplet of water, the surface of the mirror rippled like a demure lake disturbed by a stone. Petals erupted from the ripples, a cloud of gold, black, and red that gathered like so many wasps in that shadowy space. The petals condensed, dark mist filling the spaces between, until a shape that mocked the human form rose up from within. Soon a body took shape, a body that languidly stepped out into the light of the hall.

Darth Nwul Shasot'ari, Imperator, Golden Princess, stepped out as her body took its completed form. Her skin was still that odd pallid-tan, if one could be both gray and bronzed at the same time. Her eyes were like molten gold, no pupils, no irises, only glowing metal that blazed even in the dark behind a golden mask that framed her face dramatically. An ethereal and monstrous beauty that was blessed with a hooded robe and gown of black and gold, a red sash around her waist completed the ensemble.

She did not make a sound as she walked, her feet never touching the ground, or rather, she had none to speak of. Instead she drifted like the specters above down the hall to meet those who waited for her. Others garbed in red and gold. Nobles, Aristocrats, Sith and Imperials alike. Those that had come to see this person that their monstrous Lord so adored. She greeted them with her customary cheshire smile, ear to ear, with wicked mischeif in her eyes and drifted towards the doors.

She did not speak, she did not give orders, she was here to show solidarity, nothing more, nothing less. But that did not mean she could not enjoy herself.

She chuckled, her eyes turning to look at something that seemed far away. She sensed a presence. Her eyes narrowing, Domination was here. So was the High Priest. Others she did not know, she hadn't had the pleasure. Oh how she loved meeting new people. Then there were others, a special few...

She made her presence known to those special few, a brush of approval and warmth in the force. Nothing dramatic. Lord Kalrath , her Majordomo. Tarus Undara , with whom she sensed camraderie. Annika Starfire , her beloved new apprentice. Oh what fun they would have together soon! Diodoros , ah, she liekd him quite a bit.

... Darth Malum of House Marr

Oh his precious heart. Even from here, she felt it. Perhaps the new face she was wearing could warm it a little. A bit of healing? She tittered out a laugh at the unseen humor in the moment. A noble glancing her way curiously as they approached the doors to the party. Her eyes twinkling, she raised a hand to wave it off.

And then... ahh... Empyrean and Srina. There they were. Magnificent. All the players in one place. What a spectacle!

Her senses moved to O Osisa , who she caressed with motherly love, reaching out with a gentle hand from far, far away, only to smile distantly as they finally arrived at the doors. She tittered out a laugh as a nobleman made a joke even as her mind lingered elsewhere. Oh where oh where was their host?

The doors opened and she drifted inside, no need for fanfare, but let the others see the Golden Covenant as it made its presence known in unity.

She bid the gentlmen that had escorted her adieu and glanced towards a few of those present, noting where Malum and... ah... the little Raven was here too. Sophia of House Marr was a curious one, perhaps they'd dance. She cocked a smile and an eyebrow in the direction of the girl before drifting over to her first priority. Her ghostly path taking her to her new apprentice and the company she kept.

"Annika dear," Darth Nwul said in a playful sing-song, "Are you having fun?" She smiled at the men Annika was speaking with. "Oh you must introduce me!"

She opened up a fan and raised it over her lips, golden eyes unblinking.

 

[Rayth]

"How did you find it?" She asked, putting those cares behind her and fiddling with her kyber necklace.

"Terrible," Rayth admitted. "Exhilarating. A hunt in the darkness. Hunting and hunted. I came in the top half, not many new students did."

Weakness was not as aspect to put on show here. He glanced around as the elegantly dressed Sith picked their paths across the social web. If he plucked at the wrong strand, someone would strike.

"Do you see this as any less dangerous?" he asked, not knowing that she was far more astute in social awareness.

"I am Rayth," he added, realising that he hadn't given his name. The strange, pale young man offered a ghost of a smile.

The hairs at the back of his neck stood on end. His beat of his pulse quickened. Self-preservation mechanisms began as something powerful drifted into their orbit.

"Annika dear," Darth Nwul said in a playful sing-song, "Are you having fun?" She smiled at the men Annika was speaking with. "Oh you must introduce me!"

Rayth offered a low bow, but never left his gaze fall to the ground. He waited for Annika to reply first, in case the effortlessly beautiful spider took offense.

 

[Annika Starfire]

Location: Korriban
Objective: Grow
Tags: Darth Nwul Rayth

Annika felt that shiver in her spine again as a figure of insidious darkness entered the room flanked by armed guard, ahe had no idea who this man was, but her body ached just to look at him and she had to conscuously focus to block out the crushing darkness that attempted to overwhelm her. She had been made aware that some powerful entities would make her feel like this and if she did not assert her own strength in the force quickly and learn to resist, she would be consumed. As she centered herself and refocused on the man who spoke to her, she began go feel calmer, the water was cold and deep, but she began to float.

"Do you see this as any less dangerous?"

"Funny you should say that.." she grinned, it was as if he had read her mind and the roller coaster of sensations the force was causing on the young novice. "In a fight, like at the melee trials, I guess it's easier because you know the other person wants to harm you. This is a different kind of minefield. But it's kinda fun to try and work out what other people are thinking right?" she added with a playful smile as Darth Nwul approached them. Her master looked gorgeous, she had not seen this side of them yet but had been made aware that she would appear differently depending on what her whims were. Annika felt like she preferred this look, but would not dare to mention a preference to the powerful woman.

"Oh you must introduce me!"

She bowed her own head "Master. I am having an interesting experience here, it's quite fun. This is Rayth , he's an acolyte like me.

Rayth, this is Darth Nwul Shasot'ari, she is my Master.

You look amazing master..." she added with a grin, it was not an attempt at sycophantic flattery, Annika genuinely thought she looked beautiful.

The Zeltron teen then gestured across the room to Darth Empyrean with a nod of her head and a flick of her violet eyes. "Master... who is that?" she would not elaborate on the depth of darkness she felt when she first laid eyes on the man, not wanting to admit to any weaknesses. But she couldn't help but be curious.

​

 

[Tarus Undara]

Korriban
Objective I

​

“I came over here because that is not my thing.”

A humored smile touched Tarus’ face. He understood her sentiment perfectly, nodding to the shadowy alcove where he’d been perched himself.

“That’s where I chose to hide,” he mused. He took a seat and tried to relax.

“I prefer watching and listening to mingling. I imagine you’re doing much the same, as an envoy of Carnifex.”

Tarus tried his best to cast the words in a respectful tone, or at least a neutral one. With this many Sith around, it would be nearly impossible not to offend one Lord by seeming to chummy with another. Besides, Tarus had his own allegiances - which he was suddenly reminded of, as the familiar warmth of Darth Nwul graced him with its gilded presence.

Was the Lord of the Covenant here tonight?

Tarus chanced a brief look about the room, but couldn’t spot Nwul. He was here, though, there was no mistake. The fallen Jedi cleared his throat, which was still coated in the bittersweet blood-wine. He’d almost kill for a glass of water.

“The eclipse is phenomenal,” Tarus said, taking a stab at small talk.

“I only wish I could spend more time basking in it. I used to have a penchant for astronomy, I think…” the last two words almost a mutter.

- Teresa Zambrano | Darth Pellax -​

 

[Darth Empyrean]

Empyrean had stilled slowly in his seat, turning as cold and lifeless as the marble statues nearby. In his namesake, the Corpse-Like Corpse King, moved only his eyes - though with no pupil few could tell. The metal orbs twisted about, studying the crowd in its various forms, sways, and iterations. A few, unknowingly, made direct eye contact with the Emperor - if only they knew those eyes could end their life.​

​

HIs attention was drawn towards where Srina Talon had pointed out Arkryion Malachar - and he studied the young man. He saw a resemblance to himself within him, as Srina had warned him about - what had first peaked her curiosity. It was true, in some sense, Maliphant had looked like this boy; but a curious similarity meant little in the course of their destinies. With Srina guiding him, there was no doubt he would be great; but greatness doesn't seperate the wheat from the chaff when it comes to Sith. It requires so much more than that.​

​

"I will make no such promises.", he mused in his deathly intonations.​

​

"Scaring the next generation makes them careful."​

 

[Vector Monk]

Darth Empyrean Srina Talon

Gloves of fine white fleuréline weave swished an even finer cape over rigid shoulders. Aurodium filigree transformed his phantom half mask into a work of art. Vector's elegant gaberwool tuxedo completed the ensemble. Despite the nest of vexis which surrounded him the lone Imperial officer wore a confident smirk. Calculating eyes observed palace guests before fixing upon a familiar visage.

"My lord Empyrean," he knelt before the powerful Sith monarch, "It is an honor to once again bask in your dark presence. I served you faithfully on Ossus, if you recall?"

Vector offered the Dark Lord's echani companion a demure hand to clasp in formal greeting.

"Captain Vector Monk, my lady. Sith Reclamation Service. You may consider me at yours."

 

[Madrona A’Mia]

Korriban
Palace of Vardin
Lord Seer's Chambers
Sunset​

The veils thinned even now, a few hours before the sacred event properly began. A'Mia was beginning to feel the energy shift like whispered breath across her bark and was starting to see faint disturbances at the edges of her vision like heatwaves shimmering off sunbaked stone. She blinked slowly into the mirror, watching herself become steadily more like her current muse. Jen'rusulka.

Through practice with basic alchemy, her expertise in botany, and the natural gifts of her many-limbed shape-changing form, the Neti woman was piecing together a guise to properly pay homage to her adopted home world and its King Darth Caedes who for her were one and the same. When all was said and done, she stood from the vanity, inspecting herself.

Her willowy form was stretched and ghostly, made more so by the way her dozen or so limbs branched off at odd directions. She was a spectral white barked tree garbed in simple flowing fabric. It would be difficult to tell in low light where the tattered robe started and where her vining, branching tendrils ended so she toyed with the very beginnings of sorcery to lend substance to the illusion.

When she was viewed from the shadows, A'Mia would seem a looming dryad. Her form more spiked and broken and terrible. As she drifted into the light she would appear less unsettling as her form became sleeker and far more spectral. Beneath the simple hood of the sheer grey fabric her face was a mask. Smooth, devoid of all features but wood grain and sly eye slits, it would be clear to any who drew near that it was indeed no true mask. The visage was too flush to the line of where her jaw would normally peak out from the edge of a proper mask, her blue-green eyes too eerily bright and near the surface of the "mask" that was actually her face.

Korriban
Palace of Vardin
Grand Ballroom
Evening
​

A'Mia appeared from the servants quarters bearing a large silver tray laden with a fine clear tea set. She appraised the crowd warily, schooling her gaze so as not to probe too strongly with her strange Force sight, having learned caution in her encounter with Darth Nwul and taking it seriously in the service of Korriban. She would do everything in her power to play her part perfectly so the likes of Zal Aditi and Elmindra Xitaar could focus their invaluable skill sets on grander schemes.

As she drifted ethereally amongst the party goers and headless servants, the Lord Seer was gradually becoming more and more aware of the thinning veil. Her powers and sight uniquely curtailed to such happenings. Specters seemed more substantial than ever and she was beginning to notice the way that the living seemed to glow faintly with a spiritual corona that sometimes left trailing after images.

All this before I've even partaken, she noted to herself.

A'Mia watched as guests of note or anonymity arrived and a rare, faint sensation of pride arose in her as she considered all of the work it had taken to reach this point. The wroshyr only grows mighty in time and after casting down many deep roots. She was pulled from her philosophical reverie when she overheard a quip about their available intoxicants. That was her cue.

With all the grace of an echani dancer and the unsettling visage of a ghost, A'Mia drifted toward the two men ( Lord Kalrath and Diodoros ) and caught sight of an interesting third person ( Lucia Naberrie ) as she went, beckoning them to join. Her voice was bright and pleasant, though her mask did not move as she spoke and no emotion reached those twin earthy pools that were her eyes.

"If our more mundane offerings do not suffice, it is my duty and pleasure to offer you something more to your taste. Would you care for some alchemically enhanced tea?"

Tags: Open to others
Recognizable by: Darth Malum of House Marr Mazrith Drihl Rayth
Shadow Dryad Art by Gerwald Lechner​

 

[Zal Aditi]

[ Z A L...A D I T I ]
[ Sith Holy Space // Korriban // Dies Festus Mortuorum ]

[ Labyrinth Maternis ]​

Crystals gleamed in the darkness, refracting the light from the opening in the cave's high ceiling. Above the chamber, the lunar alignment was slowly moving into place. The celestial light filtered down through the crevice in the stone, cascading over the scattered outcroppings of kyber. The placement of the gems grew less and less random as they neared the bottom of the chamber, the chaos of natural grown coalescing finally into order and intricate pattern.

Closest to the floor, elaborate arcs and lines of star iron framed the glowing stones, directing and connecting the energies in arcane pathways that all led to a single point of focus: a dark pool of liquid at the very center of the room. Smooth as a mirror, the blackness of the surface glittered with reflections, looking like a slice of the night sky itself.

The sky rippled as Zal slid her foot into the inky waters. A shiver ran through her as she broke the surface, more from the intensity of the power gathered here than from the icy chill. Slowly she stepped into the pool, her body rapidly engulfed by the liquid - ankles, then knees, hips, waist. By the time she neared the center of the pool she was submerged to her shoulders.

Above the surface her feathers shone with a searing light, carrying the intensity of the energy that coursed through her. Below the surface the light was entirely swallowed. Nothing shone through the black darkness of the water. She moved her hands, waving her arms slowly, but her body was numbed by cold, and her only indication that the movement had been successful was the ripples that rose and shimmered across the water.

Gathering her focus, finally, she stilled, waiting as the surface of the pool settled into a smooth reflection. She looked down at the water, watching the three moons shift slowly in the sky above her through the crevice in the cave's ceiling.

As the third planet slid into place to complete the alignment, she stepped forward, plunging straight down into the pit at the center of the pool. The water shook as her form was swallowed, circles spreading outward from the exact center of the pool... and then all was still once more.

[ The Palace of Vardin ]​

In one of the dark pockets of shadow in the palace's winding corridors, a form stirred to life.

Zal opened her eyes, not to the blackness of the water's depths, but to the festively adorned and opulent halls of the Masquerade celebration. Smirking plump lips, she raised her arms over her head, taking a moment to stretch and settle into the sensations of this mask. She tossed her head, swinging the long brunette ponytail off her shoulder. A long section of hair brushed past her cheek at the gesture. Hair... such a strange feeling. The weight of it seemed to pull at her scalp.

She stepped into the light, turning as she heard a sharp gasp and the tinkle of broken glass. A masked Zabrak woman in an elaborate black ballgown took a sharp step backwards, her face visibly paling at the sight of Zal... or rather, at the unexpected sight of Valerie Noble. The remnants of a shattered wine glass scattered the floor between them.

Zal grinned, gathering the pieces of the glass and its contents together with the force and raising them up into the air. "Careful, now," she purred. She winked at the guest, her crimson scleras the only hint that she was not, in fact, the legendary leader of the Jedi forces. "Wouldn't want anyone getting hurt."

She dropped the shards into a nearby potted plant and turned, making her way to the dance floor. Yes, this puppet had been well worth the time and effort she'd taken to create it. What could she learn about Valerie Noble by dancing a night in her shoes? What would she learn about those who gathered here to celebrate Korriban's re-emergence? How would they react to the sight of one of the Sith's fiercest enemies walking among them? Would they see her as an enemy? An unexpected ally?

How many would be able to look past the mask to see the mind beneath?

by Dax Fyre​

 

[Adeline Noctua]

Tag: Darth Malum of House Marr
Attire

A pale hand would rest upon his shoulder, once glanced over it would seem that his Sangnir interest had snuck up on him.

"Don't look so dreadful dear, you might spoil the evening!"

The woman chuckles a bit, a simple white mask covered her face. It would be then that she saw his sister Sophia of House Marr , a person who she had yet to meet.

"I don't recall you ever talking about having a sister, tsk."

She reaches out a hand to Sophia, offering a simple handshake. The woman had a striking aura, with Adeline already being known for being a wild card who was quickly rising in power. A woman with a dangerous taste, a devourer you could say.

"Adeline Noctua, but you may call me Lady Keres if you so desire.


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