Faction In Memoria

[Darth Carnifex]

A Shadow moved amongst the crowd.

It glided effortlessly through the roving throngs, passing them by without a sound, without notice. To all others It was imperceptible, simple an error in their sight that warded their gaze away. But as the Shadow moved deeper into the shrines, further and further away from the great congregations, It began to take shape and form. Coalescing into the visage of a man, the Shadow passed wordlessly through the gateway to the Shrine of Darth Moridin, He Who Arose In Might, and Dark Master of All The Shadow.

Long had the Dark Lord's name fallen from the lips of those who would once devote their service to His glory, for none yet lived who had once been witness to the Unlight of Moridin the Great. None but the Shadow, whose hands brushed aside the dust and debris that had accumulated upon the shrine's base. Of all who drew breath in this world, perhaps He alone still remembered a time when the power of Moridin animated the great Sith Empire to action, bringing ruin and death to all of it's enemies.

But that time seemed so long ago now, forlorn and empty. None remained to carry forth it's tales, none but He.

Darth Carnifex looked upon the stone edifice of Moridin the Great, eyes tracing the imperfections in the masonry that were not present in the flesh and blood of the man who was. Something within Him ached in recognition, that pearl of consciousness that He had devoured, memories that were not His own floating to the surface of a dark, placid pool. He pushed them beneath the water, letting them sink back into the abyss from which they had arisen. They were not needed.

"So long ago," whispered the Dark Lord of the Kainate in the blasphemous tongue of the ancient Sith. "You, the guiding hand -- the master, and me the disciple. But you are dead, your name forgotten, and so it falls to me to carry forth our great work. I have risen above you in all regards, my name will live forever. Yet still, I find myself drawn to this pitiful altar, nestled far from the eyes of those who should be your devout worshipers. What would you say to me now, Moridin? Would you curse me for a usurper? Would you praise me as you once did, when my labors swept you to the throne? It matters not, you are beyond death -- utterly obliterated. All that matters is me."

Carnifex slipped a small object into His hand, placing it gently on the stone. It was a coin, stamped with the likeness of the statue it rested beneath, currency that had long since fallen to the wayside. Then the Shadow arose in silent contemplation, lost in a thousand thoughts.

 

[Lunaria Talon]

Tag: Soldane Talon | Matteo Guo-Yian | Lina Ovmar
Alias: Artemis Dreadmoor
Wearing: School Uniform w/Red Cloak

Artemis barely registered Matteo's presence at first. The world around her was a haze of bumbling emotion—waves of sadness, loneliness, and grief that refused to settle. Her chest felt tight with a sense of failure she didn't quite understand. She hadn't even heard him approach, but the familiar touch on her shoulder, gentle and reassuring, finally brought her back to the present with a snap.

She blinked. It was a simple question, a simple gesture, but somehow it felt like a lifeline in the storm that was her mind. The crowd's movement, the ritual of honoring the dead, the towering and grave monstrosity that was the Eternalist Church—it all melted away for a moment as she focused solely on the boy who stood before her.

On her first and perhaps only friend outside of her brother.

"Tea-yo…?", her voice was uncharacteristically soft, trembling slightly as she said his name. Luna, Artemis, felt foolish for being this bothered and that only made things worse. Everyone else was moving forward, embracing the celebration of their heritage. Even Soldane. But here she was, stuck in place, caught in emotions she couldn't sort out. Her offering was gone, lost in the tide of people, and with it, her purpose for being there seemed to have slipped through her fingers.

She bit her lip.

She stupidly wanted to believe Matteo. She wanted to think that it was okay to feel this way, that it didn't make her weak. But…He didn't know the truth. He didn't know she was a Talon. He didn't know that her absentee father was the Sith Emperor everyone categorically and rightfully feared. He would never know how that invisible legacy pressed down on her. How could she explain to him the complicated mess of feelings inside her? That her mother's absence felt like a gaping wound?

That that thought of being forgotten, lost to history like their ancestors, terrified her?

How would Luna ever live up to the things they had done?

Artemis was numb when Matteo began to lead her through the crowd, however, that soon burned into a new sense of apprehension when the festival noises faded into the background. It was as if the world itself had paused. Her emotions, which had barely been in held in check, surged as the stranger's presence wrapped around them like a great winged sentinel, cutting them off from the prying eyes and ears of the other parishioners.

She backed up into Matteo on instinct alone.

The voice that greeted them was soft but carried an otherworldly weight. Fortunately, and unfortunately…It reminded Luna of her mother. She looked up, boldly, with gunmetal blue eyes that held the reflectiveness of silver coins. Whoever this woman was—She was far beyond the students of Jutrand Academy. She was no mere passerby. Her presence was more shadow than person, dark and ethereal, her movements fluid and unnatural…Like smoke dancing between flickers of flame.

And in her hand was the offering.

"I…", she started, fingers reaching for it, but gingerly. Sith Lords had removed the hand of ignorant brats for less. For being so careless, as to lose her reason for coming to the cathedral. Artemis nodded slowly at Lina Ovmar , voice still caught somewhere in her chest. "Thank you.", she finally managed, her voice small, but far sturdier than she felt. Her eyes flickered away from the woman, to Matteo, and back again.

Who was she?

 

[Oleander Webb]

WEARING: x
WIELDING: x | x
TAG: Darth Malum of House Marr

"Chit."

The Anzat cursed under his breath as the carnival throwing knife bounced off it's target, landing with a telling thunk.

"So close! Just one off, sir, but a loss is a loss." The carnival worker was perhaps too pleased with himself as he pulled the other knives from their targets. "Of course, you could try another round. Maybe this will be your lucky one!"

Oleander glared at the targets, the final one especially. If he squinted - and if he ignored the nagging concern from needing to squint - he could make out a noticable lack of punctures in that target. The game was rigged, as to be expected from a carnival. And yet he'd allowed it to take his credits. This was the third time, too. He glanced up at the prizes. He had no real use for stuffed animals or cheap contraptions. Yet there was a light blue nexu that called to him. It reminded him of something - someone?

With a shake of the head he turned away from the game. The prize wasn't worth his credits and his pride. There was a whole carnival to explore, too.

The scent of greasy foods and sickly sweet treats permeated the air. Oleander imagined is he were any other sentient, the scents would've been a siren's song. He could still taste them, they just didn't hold any appeal. Only one thing did.

His wanderings lead him to a maze. He didn't have any pressing business, right? Why not check this out?

 

[Kasir Dorran]

Tag: Soah Ty’Jyn

Before long, a familiar voice finally pierced through the symphony of noises that washed over him. Kasir turned his head, scanning over the figure who approached. And with the subtlest of nods, he offered his greeting, simply acknowledging the existence of the acolyte now before him. She was easy to recognize with the black tattoos on her skin.

"We seem to see eye to eye." the Sith murmured in his usual nonchalant tone. His demeanor quickly shifted as if mirroring her own. He could feel the weight of her disdain towards the event, which threatened to curl his lips into a cruel grin, wanting to revel in the amusement from it. But behind his calm eyes, there was also a touch of animosity hinting at the depths that lurked within, as there was always a dark beast waiting to be unleashed.

“I believe…this is what they call entertainment,” he commented. Kasir gestured at a group of children and adults alike laughing and screaming on the giant wheel behind him. "A pitiful pastime for even more pitiful creatures. Without a doubt, it is a distraction from true power.”

His black cloak fluttered in the breeze, blending with the night, and for an instant his gaze peered past Soah, into the many festivities taking place. There was another unusual shift he noticed, as a surge of words flowed from his lips with ease, for he at least deemed her worthy of such an exchange. A tinge of respect had been earned through a clash of their training sword in a duel recently, as if he carried a code within his corrupted soul, where even the smallest shred of it could be the difference between life and death.

“I presume that you did not neglect your training at the academy today,” he questioned, refocusing his attention back to the acolyte. Whether he agreed with their teachings or not, he did understand the value of consistently honing one’s abilities, regardless of the environment. “I would certainly hope not,” he finally added. The assassin was not here to give praise or criticism; he was merely a sentinel of her potential, rather than having any desire to manipulate her fate. Whether she recognized that or not, also did not matter to him, but he would not let it go to waste.

From within his cloak, Kasir retrieved a handful of credit chips, twirling them between his fingers. They carried little allure to him, whose only real purpose lay in sharpening his skills and trying to serve a higher calling that gave his existence some sort of meaning. Having completed both rituals today, he would have a rare moment of leisure, even if he knew it would be wasted.

Kasir extended his arm and offered them to the Felacatian while slowly shaking his head. "We will try out this thing they call ‘fun’," he said in a voice barely above a whisper. “And perhaps we’ll see if there is anything to gain from such a pointless activity.”

 

[Sophia of House Marr]

​

Tag: Darth Malum of House Marr
Location: House of Worshiping Bones [Right behind Malum]
___________

Quote of the Moment:
"Her soul was too deep to explore by those who always swam in the shallow end."
___________​

Sophia's presence at this worship of the dead was compulsory at best.

It was a ceremony that was steeped in tradition that most noble houses would recognize and participate in without thought. The littlest Marr viewed it was disdain. She didn't want to talk to Sith who had lost their Empire, their relevancy, and didn't think she had anything to learn from them other than how best to imitate failure. Pathetic. Her jet-black boots made no sound as she approached her elder brother while he indulged in some sort of warped confessional.

Darth Malum of House Marr was the only reason she had come.

Not for the dead—For the living.

She was…seemingly patient…But the bratty edges of her personality would slip through the façade here and there. Her black and red dress was acceptable by the standards of her House but it clung to her frame with a wispy black cloak that trailed her every step. Her clothing was elegant, unlike some of the clowns in this festival, cascading in layers of sharp, angular cuts. The blood-red accents glowed faintly against deep obsidian fabric, but nothing, glimmered brighter than the large ruby that sat at the hollow of her throat.

Everything about her seemed graceful enough but her attitude left an underlying tension of rebellion. It bubbled beneath the surface of snow-pale skin, barely restrained. Like a tigress trapped in a windowless cage.

Sophia held a two-sided mask in her hand, connected to a long golden rod, and placed the sad side outward. It depicted a skeletal, grotesque visage, representing death and decay. The other side was a caricature of happiness. Polished and smooth, almost beautiful, signifying the future and the ever-present allure of power to the promised. It was the duality of life and death. Ruin and dominance. It was a theme written all over the Eternalist Cathedral…But to Sophia?

It was hollow.

The voices of other visitors melded into one discordant chorus, low and reverent, but Sophia remained silent. She didn't need the approval of ghosts. Crimson eyes remained hidden behind the shadowy sad mask while she tilted her head, looking, at the back of her sibling's head. She was interested in his confession if only to jeer at him, lovingly, for his sins.

"Are we done yet?"

She flipped the mask around to the happy side, tilting her head the other way in such a fashion that it was almost disconcerting. Happy, to sad. Sad to happy—And back again. Even if the spirits called on her, then and there, she'd not answer. Sophia wouldn't be bound by the dead.

She intended to surpass them.

 

[Tamsin Graves]

Tags: Kaila Irons
Theme: Dance Macabre

---

Jutrand was like nothing she had ever imagined in her life, a world that was practically one big city. People just vanishing into crowds of more people, so many people in one place. It was so vastly different then Tatooine and Cantonica the only two place she could ever remembered being in her life. There were so many people and so much diversity of aliens, sure Tatooine had a lot of different species but nothing like this. It was so crowded Tamsin stayed close to Kaila as they made there way to a Palace.

Tamsin didn't understand full the significance of the place or the festivities going on, but Kaila had told her it was important. Explaining a bit of the history of Sith Lords, it was such a big Galaxy and there was still so much for her to learn. So much history she didn't know about, yet ever since starting her journey with Kaila as her guide she wanted to learn it all. She did not want to be some dumb slave girl from Tatooine, she wanted to know it all.

As they made their way into the Palace she was in awe of just how big the place was. It made Blougah the Hutt's so-called Palace look like a shack. She had to wonder how much power and influence one had to possess to have such a prestigious place to live. How many rooms and how much stuff did a person need really. She didn't dwell to long looking around as Kaila was pulling them along, she had a purpose in mind and Tamsin was way out of her depths to go it alone.

That and Kaila had told her to be careful here and to watch how she talked. That some of these people wouldn't take to kindly to someone like herself speaking to freely. So she remained silent as she continued to follow Kaila. Kaila herself seemed lost in her own thoughts, as they made their way to the cathedral of offerings. Tamsin did wonder what she was thinking about maybe the past, present, or even the future ahead. The two had a lot in common their pasts to some degree both a vague abyss of lost and forgotten memories. Neither really knew clearly where they came from. Both didn't know what the future held just yet. They only had the here and now, the experience of the moment. That, this was for Tamsin at least a grand experience.

They began to move through the cathedral, it was lined with candles burning in front of shrines. Unable to read Tamsin didn't know what any of them said, the names of the dead lost to gibberish symbols as she looked on the writings. She watched as people offered up gifts to the shrines, she wondered if these people were dead, why would you offer them things, some of the things offered even had considerable value. She didn't understand why you would just give your things away to the dead. Kaila had said it was in honor of them, but to Tamsin why couldn't you just honor them by remembering them.

They reached the shrine Kaila was looking for and Tamsin watched as her mentor offered up some tea. At first Tamsin heard nothing, felt nothing. Even her passenger had been oddly silent since coming here. She just barely heard the words whispering as an apparition of a hooded woman appeared before them. Tamsin's eyes went wide at the sight of seeing a ghost. Though she had already seen some pretty weird chit, so the surprise only lasted a moment. She watched as Kaila and the spirit Nyto conversed.

She saw it those tendrils of light come from Kaila, a manifestation of the force she was learning about. She watched as the tendrils reached out and wrapped around the apparition and it began to wither away when another joined them. Calling out to the other one, Tamsin just watched as the spirit got consumed. It was….Tamsin had no words to describe what she was seeing before her. Then the words popped into her head Poetic Ruination.

 

[Darth Malum of House Marr]

"Presenting Darth Malum, of House Marr, King of Alvaria and Eliad, Lord of the Tsis'Kaar, and member of His Imperial Majesty's Dark Council!" The herald announced, speaking out from some freshly paced scroll, as was the way of the Sith, last-minute additions had been hastily thrown in, and as also the way of the Sith, an offence given, even as minor as forgetting one of many titles, was enough to risk the demise of many.

Suffice it to say, that no one envied the position of the herald, but at the moment, it seemed that the man was given some reprieve, as eyes across the dancefloor turned towards the newcomer, their visions coloured with as complex thoughts and considerations as colours adorned a rainbow plastered across a midmorning sky.

For many suspicion still remained of the second apprentice of Ophidia, for many lingering respect had formed for the young Sith Lord that had risen so far, so quickly, for others there was the fear, the fear drawn out by such an individual, and then of course, the hatred. Those whose eyes burned in them the jealousies, the anger, the rancours, and the hate, for that this traitor still drew breath, that this traitor had risen so highly.

Yet there was of course too, a rather new phenomenon. Curiosity. The Kaggath loomed yet closer every day, and for the masked Sith Lord that was drawn out through the great doors, wearing a suit of pure black, accentuating a shirt of a pale red, all framed in gold, it might certainly be his last. There was curiosity in conversing with one who might soon be dead, curiosity in conversing with one who might still owe a favour, curiosity in conversing with the mysterious young Sith Lord, who was known as much for his face, as much as the mask of his long dead forefather. Masquerades were among the rare moments, that his penchant for wearing a mask did not raise a brow.

Of a form that sprouted high from the ground, and an apparel that was tightly if comfortably pressed against skin, for one that hid much, he was hiding little now, a frame that was as much lean as it was muscular presenting itself for all's aegis. The mask surveyed all in attendance, seeming in consideration, even as the celebration was in full swing.

He trailed many a form, of all sizes and shapes, he might have had the pick of the litter, as the Heir of Marr knew the role in which he was to service.

Before ceasing.

Without a word, seemingly even without sound, shining black dress shoes were off, as the eyes on him slowly began to peel away, the entrance had long since bored them. The masked Sith Lord found himself amongst a group of those without partners, hidden eyes seeming to have found a voice.

She was younger, though not greatly so, a form lithe and able, and of eyes as emerald as the Lord of the Tsis'Kaar's was red, an attractive face framed by raven locks of similarity, though made a shade closer to that of her eyes, though in this moment framed by the most intriguing of masks. Yet, what drew attention, was the dress she wore, somehow both like a flower and a bird, it left little to the imagination, while bringing out the greatest of her features. It was a bold move, to wear green to a Sith gathering.

If only it was for any of these reasons, the masked Sith Lord had come here, instead, he provided a nod in greeting, eyes pulled toward the action, as whispers from certain quarters erupted, the possibilities endless, yet the King of two worlds seemed to give little notice, "Indeed it is, might you make it better, by giving me this dance, my lady?" A hand was drawn out, open handed in both question and offer.

Adean Castor
Mentioned: Darth Ophidia
Vicinity: Nouqai Veil Balun Dashiell

 

[Matteo Guo-Yian]

Matteo looked up at the woman who suddenly appeared before them. Immediately he stiffened up because even away from the crowd he had not felt her presence until it was already wrapped around them. Like a spider catching its prey in a trap. A spider... bearing gifts, but that only made Matteo even more curious at the sudden appearance.

"My Lord." He murmured as he bowed deep in a sign of respect. Just as Artemis he had no idea who this was, but that Lina was a Sith Lord was beyond dispute. And the less you knew about a Sith, the deeper you ought to bow, because their egos were fickle and the power they commanded could range from ripping your spine out of your body to destroying your whole world.

It paid to be respectful.

"We were about to join the carnival." Eyes flicking to Luna, the girl he knew as Artemis. He did not extend an invitation. Matteo didn't have to... if a Lord of the Sith wished to join them, they would without seeking permission.

Then back to Lina.

He let it rest there because something told him this Sith was more interested in Artemis than in him. She was higher in the rankings while he was common dreg according to the hierarchy. It didn't stop Matteo from keeping his hand on the young girl's shoulder however. Something fundamental was shaken inside of her and she needed all the support she'd get.

Even though this Lord could wipe him out with only a wave of her hand... Matteo did not abandon Artemis to her fate. He'd stand with her for as long as he could.

Lunaria Talon Lina Ovmar

 

[Darth Malum of House Marr]

The shikkars sailed through the air gracefully, and seemingly in an even tempo, second after second, the thunk, thunk, thunk, of glass piercing through wood targets filled the air. Each thunk seemed to change the worker's face, first from the jerking back, the surprise of the act, second the shock as the passive mind realised the danger, where the active floundered, third the gripping down of his hands, as the man seemed to go purple in the face, eyes gazing around erratically for whoever had done such a thing.

Thrown these special daggers in his game, put him in danger.

Only for his eyes to widen, as seemingly emerging out of nothing, a masked Sith Lord, was considering him carefully.

"M-M-My... My Lord..." He offered stutteringly, bowing his head so quickly that he might smashed his face against his stand, moving so quickly that his spine might have otherwise imagined that he had broken his back.

"...How long has this stand been here?" The response returned, calm, cold, considering.

"A... a... fe-... few... hours, My Lord." The sweat trailing his brow was evident, no doubt if given a few more minutes he might have enough to fill a bucket.

"...You have made enough, pack it up and leave this place," Where once was coldness, now there was fire, a fire born out of the cold perhaps, but a fire nonetheless, it was unnecessary perhaps, but so were many things, this was hardly an evil.

"...A-A... as you wish... My Lord." The man certainly seemed to know to quit when he was ahead, and knew exactly when to follow luck's draw, turning to begin to gather up all his things, after all, he had been able to keep all his hard-won earnings.

A reminder of which allowed an internal grumble to emerge out of from the whispy Lord, if only those who participated in this game could be found... alas, only one was nearby.

"...I still require my prize," He said softly, pointing to the Nexu, the carnival worker could not have been faster in removing the plush creature from its hook, and providing it across the border, the Heir of Marr said little, as he turned away and began to walk away, the shikkars shattering behind him, a hundred sharp fragments falling upon the floor, one last gift for the scam artist.

As the masked Sith Lord, tall and imposing, with robes coloured of red and black, found himself behind the Anzat, keeping to a safe distance, "My apologies I was unable to recover your credits, I hope this will suffice instead," He offered the caricature of a fearsome creature with both hands, "It took three attempts for me to realise what he was doing, I hope this is a fair trade for my subterfuge?" The Wolf's piece, he knew well, though if he was pawn or knight, was not yet determined.

Now it was only a question of what he could learn.

Oleander Webb
Vicinity: Kasir Dorran Soah Ty’Jyn Irina Jesart Nouqai Veil Balun Dashiell
Mentioned: Gerwald Lechner

 

[Lina Ovmar]

Lina offered the girl a reassuring smile as she took the offering back, before lifting her gaze to study the boy as he bowed deep, respectful, yet there was something protective in that stance, in the hand on her shoulder. She let her mind drift back to the ranking ceremony, recalling faces and names… Matteo…Artemis…didn't the latter have a brother too? A twin. Where was he?

"Relax, I mean neither of you harm, nor will I keep you from the fun of the carnival for long."

She stepped a little closer, finger reaching to lift the girls chin so she could see her properly obsidian boring into the startling silver blue eyes. "You carry something so heavy, little dove. Too heavy for one so young. Whatever it is, the dead cannot help you with it. We are not worthy of their time, and if we were? We would only be used as tools for their own gain."

A thumb brushed her cheek. "Let it out, none will know but us." Her eyes shifted to Matteo, a silent warning in them "And we will not judge, nor ask questions. You are safe."

At the edge of her senses, beyond the quiet bubble she had provided for them, Lina felt something familiar, a presence that caused anger to bubble up in her chest. She kept it muted and hidden, her focus on healing the girl who waded through emotions so thick she could almost taste them in the force. She could speak with Darth Carnifex later.


Matteo Guo-Yian Lunaria Talon

 

[Oleander Webb]

WEARING: x
WIELDING: x | x
TAG: Darth Malum of House Marr
REFERENCED: Gerwald Lechner

Oleander sensed the presence behind him before he heard them. Shadows gathered in his hand, half expecting to find himself in the midst of an ambush before he turned to address the voice. Such was the life of one perpetually prepared for Death's - his - cold grip. The pale blue Nexu gave the shorter man pause. Someone had been watching him for longer than he'd thought, it seemed.

Pale eyes narrowed as he contemplated the robed individual in front of him. Black and red was to be expected of a Sith, the mask however was perplexing. "Credits can always be gathered anew," he responded slowly. A creature of few needs and even fewer inclinations towards pursuing interests, the wages he earned as the Wolf's shadow went untouched when not applied to maintaining a cover. Not to mention, if he was ever pressed for cash, it wasn't as if his food would need theirs when he was done.

"Depends. To what do I owe this..." Kindness? Gift? The exact word was lost on him and he sincerely doubted it'd be without cost. Nevertheless, curiosity bade him to accept the plush. "Small retribution, let's call it."

 

[Soah Ty’Jyn]

Objective: Carnival Row
Location: Carnival Row
Interacting with: Kasir Dorran

​

At least Kasir found this whole thing as irritating as she did. Soah couldn't understand how anyone found enjoyment in this place. She'd rather be running wild through a jungle, where the only sounds were the wind and the rustle of nature. Even the dark, oppressive halls of Sith tombs or the endless shelves of the archives were better than this suffocating mess of people and noise.

"Every day is a chance to rise," Soah muttered, her voice low and gruff. "A few less bodies to worry about." She wasn't about to admit anything more than that. It was the nature of their training. The weak didn't survive. The slow, the hesitant, the ones who couldn't adapt -- they were weeded out, one trial at a time.

Her hazel eyes flicked back to Kasir to the question of training. "I'm still here. Stronger than the time before." Her tone was sharp, edged with irritation as she struggled to keep her temper in check with him. After that first fight, Something passed between them, and Soah recognized that she would need Kasir's knowledge to get an edge. It was a matter of practicality. The revelers -- their painted faces, grotesque smiles -- made her uneasy. They were too much, too strange, like something out of a nightmare. Her tattoos rippled slightly, and the fine fur at the back of her neck stood on end, mirroring her discomfort.

When Kasir confirmed that they were supposed to enjoy themselves at this so-called carnival, Soah grimaced. Fun? She didn't care about that. She wasn't interested in the childish games these clowns or the Acolytes were playing. She was here to survive, to rise through the ranks, and she didn't need distractions like this.

"Only if there's food involved," she grumbled. Maybe she could make use of the chaos. Slip away, take advantage of the revelry, and deal with a few competing acolytes. There were always ways to turn a situation in her favor. If she couldn't find entertainment in this mess, she'd make her own.

 

[Soldane Talon]

​

Tag | Svenja Fürstin Von Exocron​

​

Soldane glanced up from his place of prayer at a member of the Third Cohort. She was a fresh addition to the school, had undergone private trials after a student had gone missing on one of their exams off world. Soldane had his suspicions that 'getting lost' was just a simple way to say 'politically motivated assassination'. There had been a few students so far, but most had been Fifth. His bunk mate, V, had found that fate two weeks ago. The question now, was if this person's sponsor was the one who had the other student killed, or if they simply took advantage of the situation.​

​

It made her dangerous either way, but dangerous in a different regard depending on what was true. Still, she was just another student before him, one who placed a wooden effigy before his Father's memorial. A father nobody was to know he had. He had been good at hiding his emotions and his thoughts, and so he steeled himself further before offering any retort to her -​

​

"I'm Riven Dreadmoor. I'd say the same but...", he stood up this full height, a measly 5'4", and brushed off any dust or dirt that had collected on his clothes.​

​

"You're a Third. I've memorized the rankings. Are you sure you should be talking to a Fifth, instead of just... I don't know... Kicking him or commanding I move?", he said with a testing pressure of coyness. They were alone, so it didn't matter what really happened here. If things went south, he'd just run away.​

​

Or he'd use it as a good time to up his rank out of the Fifth. He had a suspicion the school was watching all of them, even now - even if he couldn't prove it yet.​

 

[Kaila Irons]

Tamsin Graves || OPEN​

Kaila's lips parted to reveal grit teeth as she slowly rose to her feet, pressing an unseen weight against the spirit's resistance. Like lightning, her spectral tendrils crackled and flickered as they coiled around Nyto's translucent form. They tried their best to resist Kaila, but she had bound beings far worse than Nyto, and worse yet, she was bringing their power to bear against the spirit. Darth Parasideus had spent hundreds of years isolated on Dathomir, hate stewing all the while.

Hatred of the apprentice who killed him.

Hatred of Nyto.

For the first time since Kaila had bound him, Parasideus gave his power willingly, pouring his essence into her as she brought their combined might down on the spirit. Though Nyto inflicted an unseen pain on her mind, causing her face to contort with wrath, yet even still, Carnifex had instilled a tolerance for pain in the woman, Such that it only fueled her dark power.

Soon the violet light began to dim, as did the subtle glow of Nyto's spectral form as it became stretched and wispy, pulled steadily into Kaila until the last sight of Nyto was merely an expression of dumbfounded fear. It vanished as the coiling tendrils pulled the last of her essence into Kaila, the light visibly traveling up through her sternum, then seemingly vanishing just as it reached the amulet around her throat. Then all went still and quiet.

Kaila's hand dropped to her side as she stumbled forward, using the other to brace herself against the structure and then wipe away the sweat of her brow.

"It's done," She said through labored breaths, chest heaving as she turned to regard Tamsin from over her cloaked shoulder.

"That was Force Walking. And it is how I will teach you to free yourself of your passenger"

Kaila began to recover her breath as she stepped aside to lean against a nearby pillar, gesturing for Tamsin to come closer with a gloved hand now that she was no longer in danger of being harmed by the dark side spirit.

"Come, I'll explain the process of what just happened, so that you can begin developing the necessary skills before we attempt this. After, we can check out the festival, or perhaps linger among the shrines so that you may learn of The Sith. Whichever you like, you'll learn in time regardless"

 

[Darth Malum of House Marr]

"I imagine for one who walks so confidently and carelessly through the Sith capital, credits are from a concern," The Masked Sith Lord offered with the barest emotion, his hands freed from their self-bound capture as the Nexu was liberated and now instead faced the captivity of the Anzat. It would at least allow some more flexibility for himself in all which might possibly occur next.

If said Sith cared for the grey gaze that was considering him, he gave no outward comment or suggestion otherwise, instead, he was still, even unnaturally so. Instead, the Sith waited, the mask revealed little, was he digesting the Anzat's words, was he simply considering himself, or was he amongst the few Sith that enjoyed the quietude of existence?

If it was the latter, a carnival hardly was the place for it.

"You owe me nothing, as I said, it was your attempts which alerted me to the fraud taking place, take it as simple thanks for that," The voice revealed as little as the mask, as the Lord of the Tsis'Kaar took steps to the side, standing even with the distance between them, shoulder to shoulder, gazing upon the maze ahead, "Yet... if you were free to speak, I would not mind the conversation."

Oleander Webb

 

[Kasir Dorran]

Tag: Soah Ty’Jyn

With another shake of his head, Kasir slowly lowered the outstretched hand holding the credit chips, and the grin that had been hiding finally began to bloom across his pale features. Soah appeared to be the epitome of misery, not much different from the first time they met. Such consistency was a rare trait, one that he couldn’t help but appreciate. Amusement began to dance in his black heart at the irony here: a strong acolyte, now surrounded by cotton candy and clowns. If he weren’t so entertained by her discomfort at that moment, he would have shared more of her irritation.

The straightforward explanation of her training was enough for the Sith; with just a subtle nod, he would convey the message that he held her accountable for fulfilling her duties. Kasir imagined he could have easily delved into her thoughts, an easy target in her early stages of trying to master the Force, but he also understood the importance of maintaining a certain level of trust from the Felacatian.

He raised an eyebrow at the mention of food, as though it were but a tool in her arsenal for negotiation. "You do look like you could use something to eat," he said, his voice laced with a hint of mirth, before shrugging his shoulders. "I imagine whatever they have here is of better quality than the slop served at the academy.”

Peering down at some of the food stalls, he scanned through the different options displayed in pictures above them. But his attention was soon drawn away by laughter emanating from a nearby game booth, the sound grating against his ears. He observed as rings were tossed at the neck of a bottle, seemingly easy but the participants were failing miserably. Their determination was palpable. His eyes then narrowed, fixating on another where darts were aimed at balloons. Every time one popped, the crowd would cheer. It was a nuisance to his calculating mind. Among the collection of large plush animals, there was one that looked like a Womp rat. He motioned towards it with a wave of his hand. "After we get some food from these peasants, we could test our skills in their ridiculous games," he suggested. "What say you?”

At last, he pivoted, ready to guide the way toward the vendors. After only a few steps, he turned his head over his shoulder. "Maybe they have Bantha burgers."

 

[Lunaria Talon]

Tag: Soldane Talon Matteo Guo-Yian Lina Ovmar
Alias: Artemis Dreadmoor
Wearing: School Uniform w/Red Cloak

Relax?

She held back an indignant, unladylike snort. Right. Because that was a possibility when a Sith Lord appeared from nowhere. Well, from everywhere. The experiences that she'd had at the Jutrand Academy had taught her to trust kindness, sweetness, even less than a blatant lie. This woman was beautiful in the dark, even moreso, with the way she blended into the scenery yet never became part of it. She was a rose…Unique. Black as pitch.

Pretty, but potentially covered in thorns.

It would have been prudent for the flaxen-haired youngling to follow Matteo into a respectful bow but she never had the chance. She felt the coldness of the Sith Lord's touch against her chin like a ripple across still water. It wasn't fear that seized her, not even discomfort, but something stranger—Recognition. The dark figure before her, more shadow than flesh, seemed to reflect something back at her, like an echo of a feeling she had never allowed herself to fully understand. It was too complicated for her young heart, soul, and mind.

More than that…This mystery woman seemed to know too much. Was her disguise slipping?

Lunaria blinked slowly, silver-blue eyes flickering with an emotion too deep to name. Something cracked inside her—no, not cracked—shifted. Soft though the words had been it felt as if they were designed to peel away the carefully constructed mask of Artemis, exposing something raw and bare underneath. Matteo was still by her side, his presence a faint warmth in the cold grip of the moment. She could feel the tension in him. The way his hand remained on her shoulder when rank dictated that he should have backed off.

His steadfast behavior gave her strength.

She wasn't quite sure where it came from. It wasn't loud or fierce like the stories of old where their ancestors had crushed their enemies with sheer willpower alone. It was quiet. Unassuming But it was there, settling in her bones like the steady, cold breath of the evening. The thumb that brushed against her cheek would find the wetness of a single tear that had stubbornly fallen. Pulled down by gravity, crystalline, and innocent.

In regards to the dead?

"I never needed them.", she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper, but strong enough to cut through the well of emotion that kept rising. They weren't the words she'd meant to say, but once they were out, they seemed to take root in her. The long-since deceased only lived on because there were parishioners carrying their memory like a torch. It wasn't the dead that left Artemis paralyzed. It was the living. Her mother. Her father. The nameless, faceless expectations that bore down on a lowly Fifth with silent judgment. "It is never safe, my Lord."

Never.

Artemis reached up and let her fingers latch onto Matteo's that were still wrapped around her shoulder. Silver eyes sharpened, reflecting the pale light of the festival, like metal that had been polished to a gleam. The expression would remind the darklit Sith Lord of someone though it would be difficult to place who. "…I miss my mother."

The admission almost broke the newly crystalized strength that was just starting to turn an Academy weed into a flower. The only parental figure she had was cold, composed, and impenetrable. Artemis had glimpsed some level of humanity beneath an icy exterior—an unyielding love, the ability to endure, and now, in her own way, Luna needed to find that strength within herself. Keep it. Whether she was seen…Or not. "My grandfather—"

"But... Thank you. I don't need to be hidden. I don't hide from what I feel…Even if it doesn't make sense.", she offered with deference, honesty, and more than a little pride. Harnessing their emotion, their passion, would make them whole. Not succumbing to the whispers of fear and ineptitude…That would make them strong. Luna pulled away from the seemingly kindly woman to glance down at the offering in her hand. "That's not what I was taught...I carry it."

Familiar words.

 

[Tamsin Graves]

Tags: Kaila Irons
Theme: Dance Macabre

---

Tamsin continued to watch, she grew a little concerned when Kaila's face contorted, something was hurting her, but she seemed to be pushing it away and fight through it. She saw the fear on Nyto's face as they were pulled into Kaila's essence the violet hues dimming sealing the deal. Tamsin's eyes just watched as Nyto's last remnants were pulled into Kaila, her chest area lighting up like a small ember of a fire just before it was over.

Kaila's stumbled forward and Tamsin reacted attempting to try and catch her if need be which was kind of comical given there height differences. Tamsin's harms reached out for her friend and mentor but luckily Kaila caught herself before Tamsin had to attempt to hold her up. Kaila then looked to Tamsin and told her it was done.

"Are you going to be alright?" Tamsin asked concerned for the woman. "Do you need to sit and take a breath?" Tamsin did want to know all about what she had just witnessed but first and foremost she was concerned with Kaila's well being. What she had done had clearly taken a lot of her, she needed to be sure Kaila was going to be alright before they moved on.

"It was interesting…" Slightly frightening but all this force stuff was new, so she expected a lot of it to be jarring at first to her. She wasn't sure if she could do what Kaila had just done, maybe someday. Kaila was one of the most powerful people she knew and still it seemed this task had taken a lot of her. She moved closer to Kaila as she motioned for her to do so.

"Let's get you to some place where you can sit down and explain it to me." Still very concerned with Kaila's well being. "Perhaps you can also tell me about a few of these shrines as well." Tamsin glanced around at them for a moment not knowing exactly why but as she did one caught her eyes. Though she quickly returned her sights to Kaila. "Then once your ready, we can go see what else there is to do." She gave Kaila's a wide smile.

 

[Matteo Guo-Yian]

Lunaria Talon Lina Ovmar

There was a fine line between being supportive and being suicidal. There was no doubt in Matteo's mind that this Sith Lord could crush him like a bug without breaking a sweat. He would not be surprised if she could rip his spine out and then forget about him two seconds after the fact. Every Sith Lord was like that and this fact ought to make him crave that same power.

It did not.

It only made him concerned that one day he'd grow up like this. Playing with people like they were toys to be broken or discarded. Maybe he was being too judgemental, after all, this one seemed to try and... impart a lesson? Even if she did it while subtly threatening Matteo. He stiffened there but otherwise remained impassive. Of course he would never judge his friend. Who did they take him for?

A Sith always looking for an advantage.

Matteo didn't really understand what was happening. Not until 'Artemis' mentioned that she missed her mother. That softened his expression slightly without any input from him. He squeezed her shoulder just a touch more.

"My Lord, thank you for your lesson."

The hidden question inside was implicit however.

May we go now?

 

[Darth Moskvin]

Gear: Staff of the Damned / Talisman of the Witch / Magical Gems / Bow of Immolation / Hilt
Familiar: Archimedes
Tags: N/A​

A heavy, repetitive pecking sound echoed through the small transport craft, cascading an eerie sound throughout the dead silence of the ship. Peck....peck....peck came the rhythmic sounds once more until they abruptly came to halt, as the black bird's eyes stared with a glint of excitement into the eyes of the waking monster who was now stirring from a slumber from within a coffin-shaped box. "I'm awake, Archie," I said starring up into the eyes of that twisted bird of prey. "I assume we are approaching our destination for I see no other reason you would haunt me with such torrent pecking,"I added as my fingers ran over the button to release the hatch and free me once more upon the galaxy. Swinging over my legs first, I climbed out of my resting hole, stretching for appearances only. I may be undead, a vamyre if you will, but I do like to incorporate a small measure of the living. Gathering my wits, for time was cruel to me since my near second death, and stormed through the ship to check the navigation computer.

The galaxy had undergone a radical change in my absence, from the faint reports I began sifting through in the holonews feed before exiling myself to sleep. But this old news, the present news was I was returning back to the Sith and to a festival of sorts. I had several unfinished business to attend to, though that was unimportant to rediscovering the Sith and the horrific agendas they would wrought upon the galaxy. Once reconnected, my experiments would once more hold sway over my mental state. "Archie," I bellowed, "where is my...never mind." I recalled where I left my belongings, damn this sleep for resting havoc upon my mind. Not all my kind, if any, endure what I call the 'cold sleep' though I find it refreshing to relax, to refocus, and to reconnect myself. Time, when you're as old as I am, holds no meaning. It's merely a glitch in my timeline from death until waking present. "Archie, let's go. We arrived and I'm so desperately eager to sate both my hunger and curiosity."

Jutrand was unfamiliar to me, as was those flocking about. I had friends, rather acquaintances, before I turned my back on the land of the living in favour of the 'cold sleep'. I wondered if they lived, died, wounded and festering or rotting somewhere, or filled the bellies of monstrous creatures. The excitement of their deaths moved me, gave me a feeling of warmth in my nether regions; only to slowly subside at the prospect of disappoint if they lived, managing to escape the chilly fingers of death. I've been called many things: psychotic, monster, predator, even murderer, but one thing I am not guilty of being called is friend. To me the living or deceased serve only one purpose: test subjects for experimentations. If I was to be tried and hung by a jury of my peers for befriending anything, it would be the abominations I create, or the dead. Dead things are uniquely entertaining but break easily if played hard with; proceed with the utmost caution.

Now that the formalities are locked away, it was time to find this shrine and see if the stories of one ancient Lord of the Sith were true; or if it was nothing more than fable. And if they were true, I look forward to cutting open his mind and plucking the knowledge from within.