Private Lone Wolves & Crossroads

[Kaila Irons]

Darth Anathemous strode the winding corridors of Echnos City like a wandering specter, helmed visage ever forward, her silken cloak and war-skirt obscuring the subtleties of her graceful movements such that she appeared to simply float down the halls. And like an omen from beyond the grave, no one dared approach. It had been a day or more since the people of Echnos last saw their military governor who'd left to deliver a personal report to The Empress who installed her here, then stayed to view the Kaggath on Jutrand. Now she had returned, and though she did everything in her power to better the lives of these people whilst maintaining the imperial quota, they still feared her.

As they feared all sith.

Why wouldn't they? their defenders had unleashed the Phobis device some months ago, brought the entire city down on top of the alliance invaders but also on each other. It is why she made so many efforts to improve their conditions, for she could not live with the guilt otherwise. But would it ever be enough? She did not know.

She stopped amid a junction of corridors, a sort of crossroad inside the interior of a city that was more like a single labyrinthine building than a traditional city. The local cantina on this level was within view, it's neon sign once serving as the only landmark amidst the steel maze in this sector. But recently, she had added another. in the center of this crossroad stood a single tree. It was a small thing, it's dark trunk twisted like a vine and it's green leaves prickly, needle-like in their form, but it was nature nonetheless. It survived, despite the minimal sunlight to support itself and the absence of flora around itself save perhaps the grass which had sprung up in a circular dish of soil in which Anathemous had it planted to brighten up the local scenery.

It thrived, despite these harsh conditions.

Just as she would, out of spite.

The Kaggath had proven to her that not even brotherhood could survive in this empire, yet brotherhood was to her as soil was to this little tree. So she would muddy this land with what little soil she could, bring her allies here and build a world of her own under the Empire's nose. And yet she would also make many enemies throughout the process... Darth Malum had already taken a disliking to her, The Kainate were insufferable, all save for her love.

Could she manage it all?

Or would she end up like Darth Strosius...?

She ran her gloved fingers through the waxy leaves, contemplating her next step carefully.



Kasir Dorran

 

[Kasir Dorran]

Kaila Irons

The transformation from captive to sangnir, the bitter taste of defeat in an enclosed box during a Kaggath, and the demise of the one he once served - all within a short amount of time, was a cruel series of experiences that was nothing short of agonizing.

Kasir, though still sworn to the Order of Wonosa, had found himself growing distant in recent days, like a feral dog roaming free-- with a hunger for destruction. Still, when their number recently gathered and began to cleave through slave auction houses in the Outer Rim, with the flames of vengeance, he played his part with glee. Ensuring that each owner met their end, the assassin relished in their screams as they were impaled upon sharp steel as a warning to any who may dare to follow in their steps.

He would continue to honor the High Priest. But rather than with grief, it would be with the precision of his twin blades.

There was a flickering light overhead in the corner of the hangar bay when he landed. He loomed in the dark for what had felt like hours, merely observing and mapping out the new territory, until he finally caught sight of the one that would be his next meal-- a technician that appeared to be lost in thought as he worked. In a sudden motion, he snatched the humanoid by the collar. Before he would have time to release a gasp, his mouth would be muffled by the Sith’s pale and calloused hand. And while the man tried to comprehend the danger that found him, he was dragged back to the cargo bay of his 578-R, away from any security cameras or prying eyes.

The Sith could have taken a sip, enough sustenance to maintain, leaving his victim weakened but alive. Instead, driven by a thirst he was still learning how to control, he drank greedily, causing the warm crimson liquid to spill over his lips which stained his obsidian armor. The world outside continued, oblivious to what was unfolding in the transport shuttle. His hunger was filled, for now, as the last gasps of life faded from the victim with nothing more than a pitiful whimper.

He released the body, its form crumpling. There was a sense of detachment as he surveyed the scene before him. As he slipped out from his vessel he then began to move through the corridors outside. Like many cities he’d visited, Echonos City had its markets, hotels, and casinos. However, the Echnos Exhibition Dome in the lower sector was what truly stood out to him.

The call of death beckoned to him, seemingly the only possible outcome that would bring satisfaction for his desires; yet, he wasn’t keen on drawing attention of the entire city upon himself. Even he knew better than that. Kasir had already been here once, when the Galactic Alliance believed they truly had a chance to claim it, and was well aware of the other Sith who had joined in the same cause that night in defense.

News could travel faster than the wind, and Kasir’s ears were always open. Though he held no personal grudge against this figure, nor held any value for their very existence, the mere knowledge of Echnos City’s new governor was enough to add her to the ever growing list of targets after recent events.

As he neared the towering dome, his steps slowed to a casual pace, his senses now sharpened. Despite its usual activity from weekly races, there was nothing but silence upon his arrival. Moving past the holographic displays, the Sith slipped through the entrance of the massive structure, his movements unheard and unseen by all who passed in the streets.

Driven by instinct, he strode towards the heart of the racecourse. In some ways, he was still the same kid from Dromund Kaas, possessed by recklessness, and fueled by the thrill of the unknown, regardless of the consequences that would follow. With a tormented mind that made not a single plan thus far for escape, and a heart as cold as ice, he carried no regrets.

The lack of lighting made it even more alluring, as night vision was now part of his being. He drank in the shadows, as though the maze of shapes and turns with different designs was now nothing more than a playground, filled with countless possibilities for conflict.

Ever the aggressor in his hunts, today Kaisr would go against his usual tactics and attempt to lure his target to him. No longer would he conceal the dark energies that could hide his position; rather, he would reveal them, knowing full well that his presence would not go unnoticed.

Each breath he began to take was filled with an intensity as though it could vibrate in the very air around him. A silent storm was brewing within. Anger filled his thoughts, sharp and relentless, as he reflected on memories of betrayal, and others of loss. Hate slithered through his veins, threatening to consume him. Rage was felt in his chest, begging to be unleashed.

 

[Kaila Irons]

Her hand froze, Anathemous hesitantly pulling away as a dark feeling began to creep up the edge of her senses like morning frost upon a glass. There were few sith in Echnos City now that the siege had ended, individual force signatures no longer being drowned out by the sabbath of dark powers, and so the feeling that she was not alone was enough to make the hairs upon her nape stand.

But more important than their presence was how it came to be.

It was sudden, as if someone who did not previously exist within this space was born of a rift. Or more accurately, they were no longer hiding. Someone wanted to be seen, trying to get her attention, but why? A meeting? Drawing her out for a duel?

"Anathemous to HQ," she spoke into her vambrace commlink, marching into the nearest turbolift.

"Unidentified force user activity on the lower levels, possibly the dome. Evacuate level Zero and forbid further entry"

"Shall we dispatch a tactical unit, my lady?" the police chief questioned, wondering why the governor hadn't already requested heavy support.

"No, I'll handle it myself."

There were simply too many unknowns to risk a firefight in her city right now. This could be a challenge, or it could be a meeting that would provide her vital information, it was hard to say.

The trip was short, and the darkside presence she felt seemed to grow with her descent, confirming her suspicions that it in fact originated from the dome.

Yet, she would not be the only one to catch this dark scent.

For her part, Anathemous was either incapable or made no effort to hide her presence. Or rather, presences. Hers was a whirlwind of dark powers, as if many beings had come to dwell within one space, some more ancient than the assassin could ever know. Hatred. Suffering. Sorrow. But at the center of this storm was it's eye, eerily calm, yet utterly alone within the maelstrom of darkness.

But as the lift brought this chaotic presence to the dome, only one being stepped out.

Anathemous marched through a door and into the stands silently surveying the area from on high, her cloaked silhouette a black shadow against the backdrop of electronic billboards and advertisements that lined the walls behind so many seated rows.

After a moment spent watching over her dark surroundings, she brought her vambrace up again, this time connecting to the dome's loudspeaker as she spoke into it, her voice echoing from all directions like that of a dark god, loud yet distorted by vocal modulation.

"Welcome to Echnos. To whom am I speaking?"​

Kasir Dorran

 

[Kasir Dorran]

Kaila Irons

The waves of anger continued pulsing from him, rippling through the air, as each breath he inhaled carried power. Without the usual audience, the dome still radiated with energy, his fury now cutting through it. With every second that passed, Kasir’s grip on his anger tightened, as though he were channeling it into a single purpose. Then, like a whisper, he finally felt it– a disturbance, signaling that someone was drawing near. It was a welcoming sensation, almost comforting due to it being a lone figure, or so he believed, for it meant the one he sought would soon be within his grasp.

Still upon the ground floor, his head tilted with expectation, for he could feel her presence drawing ever closer; and as his tongue snaked just below the lower lip, he savored the drying blood that stained his jawline. His senses were heightened, his lithe frame feeling primed for an inevitable clash.

The governor’s voice that was soon heard through the speakers circling around the stadium was far from what he originally anticipated. But Kasir continued to stand firm, as firm as a stone statue, his cruel gaze slicing through the darkness and countless rows of seats. For once in his life, it felt as though time were on his side. After all, he had already cheated immortality, something that many Sith spent their lives chasing after throughout their history.

Now he fought against the swelling anger that coursed within him, a collection of emotions that were clawing at his insides, waiting to let loose. He clenched his firsts, feeling the sharpness of his nails dig into his palms. He reached deep, trying to calm the storm, and dull his anger. He was certain, when the time was right, he would have the opportunity to finally test his new duality–a creature of the night, immersed in hatred.

He’d employed the same tactics many times before, but what was once effortless, threatened to slip from his grasp as he still felt power swirling just beneath his fingertips. Every second felt like an eternity, threatening to reveal his exact location. Fortunately, her words allowed him just enough time to finally bring it all under control.

It was replaced by an unusual sense of calm. Still, there would be one more disturbance felt before he could completely cloak himself in darkness. As a master of the mind and manipulation, he would reach out with the tendrils of the Force, though he did not intend to use his abilities to caress her mind in search of information. Rather, it was to deliver a message, a whisper dripping with the same malice that so often radiated from his being.

<<I’ve always wondered what it would feel like to extinguish the flame of a Kainite.>>

Turning on his foot, he began to move with an eerie grace. With every calculated step he glided silently across the ground while studying the racecourse before him. The winding maze of different barriers seemed to stretch far beyond what his eye could see. A perfect hunting ground for both sides, and for the time being, he openly embraced the role of the hunted. He thrived in the darkness, finding solace in his new state of being. With an intentional pause, he allowed his boot to strike against the ground, the sound echoing through the stadium. He beckoned the governor to follow him, to indulge in the thrill of it all, allowing her to know the exact direction he was headed. There were twists and turns as he ventured deeper, passing smaller spaceships that appeared to have been wrecked, along with other looming structures.

 

[Kaila Irons]

✱tsk✱​

She clicked her tongue bitterly, and the line dropped. Yet, through use of her projecting circlet, she too would reach out, her true voice soft, an eerily calm breeze against the raging inferno of his mind.

<<Ah, bold. Passionate even, a Tsis'kar perhaps? Is Marr truly so petty?>>

The sorceress strained her ears and metaphysical senses alike, carefully searching the dark for her query even as they conversed.

<<No, I think not. They preach of subtlety so often, they'd have done something all the more cowardly. Inquisitorial, perhaps? For all the criticisms of Kainites, valid though some are, It was always the inquisitors who seemed the most reckless>>

Hers was a feint whisper, her telepathy poorly developed in comparison, relying almost entirely on the connection he made, like a thread being strained, threatening to snap. Without the circlet, it'd be a wonder if she could speak to him at all in this way, especially with the wards their voices had to pass through. But that wouldn't stop her from taking this opportunity while it remained. To breach her mind without consent was a slight against her, but to remain would prove increasingly risky with every second as she prepared her own psychic offense with a little help.

<<I wonder then... did you do your homework? or this is a passion project of sorts, a spur of the moment decision>>

Her eyes snapped towards the source of a disturbance as the assassin's guise failed for but a moment. Had he lost control? Was it another lure? She didn't know, but now she wondered if her words could draw upon his ire, shake his composure long enough to find him.

<<I'll know soon enough>>


Cycling through the hardlight display on her vambrace, she activated the dome's ample floodlights, causing her eyes to shut momentarily as the building was lit like a hot summer day.

If this mystery assassin wanted to play the role of prey in her city, he'd have to play the game by her rules.

With a running start, she circled to the side of the stands closest to the source of his aura, and leapt into the arena from on high, cloak billowing like black wings behind her even as she landed on one knee, the silken garments gently settling over her shoulders just long enough to allow her sleek armor to shine catch the light.

Now close by, she simply marched onward, her footsteps near silent, eyes ever forward and thumb tracing the lock on her lightsaber. She trusted in her own array of strange abilities to keep her informed no matter which angle the assassin struck from, and was certain that he'd make the first move eventually.

There was something very few knew about her, an irregularity that set Darth Anathemous apart from the rest.

She always played defense.

And knew her foe would run out of patience eventually.



Kasir Dorran

 

[Kasir Dorran]

Kaila Irons

Even in the rare moments of calm while continuing to navigate forward, shadows danced in the corners of his vision, and his emotions were still capable of shifting like currents of water. Surrendering to the comfort of her voice might have worked against a lesser Sith, but for Kasir, it threatened to stoke the fires of vengeance burning deep within. It was like a volcano on Mustafar, where he so often trained, simmering just below the surface, capable of erupting at any moment.

The mention of the name Marr was enough to make his jaw clench, the taste of hate was now bitter on his tongue. Inhaling deeply, he forced himself to stay present in the moment, his fingers twitching with desire to grasp the hilt of his saberstaff.

The concrete beneath his boots and the steel walls surrounding him offered an odd feeling of isolation, in an area usually alive with the roar of crowds. As her words wormed back into his thoughts, he glanced over his shoulder, searching the area for any sign of her presence. Suddenly, the floodlights came to life, engulfing the expanse of the track with a brightness that was nearly blinding. And in that moment, the assassin found himself now brought forth into the spotlight. Unsure whether she could see him, his heart raced nonetheless, as the light revealed his features, from the fire in his eyes to a sneer that twisted along his lips.

Finally, he would offer a clue to her previous questions. As Kasir delved back into the depths of his own mind, he began to reach outward. His whispers slithered through the air.

<<This is merely the prologue to a story of retribution.>>

At best, it did provide an opportunity to communicate, one to draw her further in, even with the risk of revealing his location for the briefest of moments. Scanning the surroundings once more, his mind calculating, he began mapping out his next move while gambling on the disturbance that would be felt.

<<You can sense it, can't you? >>

During his exposure, he felt the thrill of danger. He tapped into his newly profound powers, such abilities that surpassed the bounds of the Force. It was a new sensation; he could hear the faintest of sounds around him. Still, his target moved with a grace that masked her footsteps, and he was unable to accurately detect her. His unnatural senses strained, instead searching for the rhythm of her heartbeat, craving the idea that it might flutter with fear. Several more seconds passed before he decided to keep moving.

<<It's not just a whisper—it's a promise. Death is near.>>

He found himself drawn along the edges, blending in effortlessly with the darkness beneath the towering bleachers that were split into different sections. As he stepped into a space between two of them, he felt the light upon him again, before glancing up at the empty stands above. With a surge of energy, he launched himself upward, and landed softly along the edges of the second level. His movements remained silent as began to utilize his enhanced speed, but he was still running in the opposite direction of the governor.

 

[Kaila Irons]

<<We eat death.>>
​

It was as if a thousand voices called out to him at once. Young, old, man or woman. Whatever spoke to him, in that moment at least, was both her and something entirely new. Something that dripped with an icy venom, caged and whipped into a frenzy as needed. He had his secrets, and she had hers.

Anathemous arrived at the scene of the first disturbance, revealing absolutely nothing...

Then she felt it, that icy pang of dark energy radiating from whence he'd spoken, slowly heating up, marching on toward the boiling point.

Her heart indeed fluttered. It was subtle, controlled even, but it was there. The anticipation of battle, a rush that outdid any high sold on the streets, and the subtle anger of a sith challenged to war. Try as she might, she and the assassin were both animals of passion at heart...

Her pace quickened, amplifying the building rush as air filled her lungs and wind cooled her skin even through the cloak.

She was on the trail again, this time a little closer than before. Anathemous was no longer an assassin, her training having taken a wildly different direction so early on, but her body, her body remembered. Strong legs carried her forward and over obstacles and she ran towards the source, eventually leaping from atop a broken landspeeder atop a pile of debris as she looked over her surroundings from on high, one hand still wrapped tightly around her lightsaber.

Yet she saw nothing.

✱tsk✱

Late to my own assassination, she thought. He's just toying with me.

Two times was more than enough to guess what would happen next. Three was a pattern, a pattern was stagnation, and stagnation was death. She crouched down, carefully observing the wreckage around her, but found nothing yet again.

Then it hit her.

If he was an experienced assassin then he too knew that a pattern could prove lethal, and each time he'd teased her peripherals in the force, it had been among the scrapped derby vehicles and track. There was no chance he'd stick around to do the same a third time, and he could very well be watching her now.

He gaze snapped over her shoulder and there he was. Opposite to herself, running along the empty second level at alarming speed.

Standing slowly, she removed one of two lightsabers from her belt, and threw it viscously into a controlled spin with the force, it's blade nowhere to be seen, quiet as the dead of night and waiting for the opportune moment.

A window of opportunity she planned to extend by distracting his senses a little longer.

<<You picked a poor place to open a first chapter,>> her psychic whisper claimed

<<Rushing headlong with no plan. You author your own failure>> Then a thousand more.

She took off running into an intercept course, keeping her inactive saber within her line of sight as she ran and leapt across the scrapyard, waiting until it was just close enough...

Then the red blade extended with a sudden snap, coming right for him.

Just as she was.



Kasir Dorran

 

[Kasir Dorran]

Kaila Irons

As she entered his mind once more, the voice became unrecognizable, as if it were conjured by lost souls and channeled through the governor. He didn’t entirely understand it, but as the words took form, it was easily recognized as a language suggesting power, and could not help but be fully drawn in, for they echoed with the very nature that he had long since embraced.

More energy thrummed through him as each step was but a whisper against the steel floor. Kasir’s gaze flickered towards the empty racecourse below, now just background to his twisted game. Attuned to the currents of the Force, he felt an unsettling ripple. A tremor prickled at him like a tiny needle. Somewhere in the depths of his mind, a warning went off, a sense of danger that he couldn't quite place just yet.

But then there was another whisper, and what followed was much more chaotic. While it threatened to overwhelm his senses, he sought to remain calm, his experience protecting him from having flaws exposed– ones that would have undoubtedly shattered a weaker mind. The message delivered was as familiar to him as chaos in a battle.

It was a call to arms.

His black heart pounded, fueled by adrenaline. There was also the natural instinct to survive. From the corner of his left eye, he caught a flicker of movement–the governor, moving through the air in a way that defied gravity. Time seemed to slow as the distance between them felt like it could vanish in the blink of an eye. It was then that he finally sensed what he had been uncertain of earlier—a hum that now cut through the silence, along with a rush of energy from behind.

There would be no panic, just cold logic; there was only one escape route: up.

With a guttural growl, the Sith tapped into his enhanced strength and speed, coiling like a serpent before leaping higher. Unaware until he made his landing, the searing heat of the lightsaber's blade managed to graze his armor, charring the edges that bit into his pale skin like molten lava, causing it to scorch and melt. His nerves felt as though they had been struck by lightning. Kasir was stubborn, a trait ingrained into every ounce of his being, and so he denied displaying any signs of the pain that would have consumed most, refocusing on the task at hand. With time, he knew the skin would regenerate itself. For now, the edges of his dark armor would just continue to sizzle.

The words she delivered earlier were indeed laced with truth, and he could not deny that his actions were driven by fury alone, abandoning patience for something he believed to be much sweeter: the taste of retaliation. But that same fire burned even hotter now, aware of the satisfaction it could bring, and he was willing to risk it all.

The Sith retreated several paces, a silent invitation to come closer, to engage in a clash of melee. There would be no hint of a counterattack in his stance, nor did he take a defensive position.

Ready to take action at any second, he simply stood with an intensity that would be difficult to ignore. His eyes flickered like embers, and the curl of his lips formed a snarl, revealing the elongated canines that hinted at his wildness. The thought of communicating through telepathy was something he decided to savor one last time, a rare feeling that transcended flesh and bone. This time, the voice was calm, nearly melodic.

<<So step forward and indulge me in your wickedness.>>

 

[Kaila Irons]

She could see the dull of melted armor as the silent assassin leapt up, leaving the lightsaber to spin freely as it returned to her hand. Like a shark drawn to blood in the water, she leapt up to the railing, finally face to face with her mysterious foe.

Her mask tilted curiously at the sneering assassin. He was older than she expected for one so reckless, and belonged to a fanged species she was but loosely familiar with. She knew the occult master of dead Yalara, Adeline Noctua , had wicked fangs in those rare moments which the fledgling god smiled, but then she sported large alien ears. Where they separate yet related species perhaps?

She did not know, but as with all things, she would approach with caution.


With slow, deliberate steps, she teased a little closer to the warrior, testing their boundaries as he retreated a few steps.

<<So step forward and indulge me in your wickedness.>>

<<In due time... first, tell me... why?>> she inquired with genuine curiosity.

Yet, the man had come here for a fight, and it was unlike sith to back down especially after she'd struck the first blow. His wounds would only fuel his anger now, and dark powers therein. If only she'd thrown higher... She would, next time, and she'd fight like hell to ensure there was indeed a next time.

<<Your anger, it's... so potent>> she could almost taste it.

<<And you radiate such pain>> Her voice sounded of distant sympathy, the last dregs of humanity lingering which her master could not beat out of her just yet.

<<Yet, it is not from your wounds, is it? This is personal>>

She reached down to her second lightsaber, popping the lock off with her thumb.

<<Who are you really after?>>

The lightsaber was drawn from it's sheath, the red wrappings of Nightsister cloth enshrouding it's hilt. She took a deceptively simple Form One stance to hide her abilities awhile longer, holding it close to her chest as a violet blade sprang forth with a sickening hiss.



Kasir Dorran

 

[Kasir Dorran]

Kaila Irons

His head snapped to the side, following her gradual approach with a calculated and intrigued gaze. The sangnir studied her every nuance, absorbing each detail. While their telepathic exchanges moments ago felt like some sort of mental duel for dominance, he remained unmoved. Kasir displayed not a single sign of fear, and no readiness to attack. The mask was a familiar sight, especially among the Sith.

As her presence made its way back into his thoughts, his gaze remained fixed ahead, unblinking, his hand clenching into a fist at his side. This would be the first time since his return to Echnos City that he would finally communicate without the aid of telepathy, a skill so ingrained in him that it had become second nature for the assassin. The words that would finally leave his mouth were but a deep murmur, quiet yet powerful. “Why not?” he replied at last, mirroring her own question.

The very anger she mentioned churned within Kasir's veins, its chaos knowing no constraints now. It radiated from his very being like an aura. “Then come closer,” he beckoned, his voice still low. It was to offer a glimpse of the darkness that now defined him, though not in a physical sense. Afterall, their telepathic bond was still felt from earlier, having already entered each other’s consciousness. “And immerse yourself into the depths of my torment, if you dare.”

He was clearly in no rush. Having abandoned other powers within Wonosa days ago, there was no one to answer to, and no one left to report to.

Any hints of empathy were met with nothing more than impassive acceptance, akin to a predator, and drawing no other reaction from him except reaching for his saberstaff. His fingers curled around it possessively. “I have simply embraced what the Lord Inquisitor left behind.”

With a steady gaze, the weapon was unclasped from his belt. “Have you figured out who I am yet?” For an instant, his voice was as cold as the grave he wished to bury her in. “I too was here when the Galactic Alliance tried to take the city,” he added. His expression shifted slightly as he invited the governor to recall a night when the Sith were all linked through battle meditation, along with the devastating effects caused by Srina's phobis device.

Unfortunately, her mask would deny him an opportunity to witness her reaction.

The twin blades were ignited, brought horizontally before him, with both hands holding the staff firmly. His lean frame slowly began to angle to one side, making himself a smaller target. The stance was open just enough so that he may remain fluid. With his feet spread further apart, it also allowed for more stability, now ready to implement the ferocity of Juyo.

"Do you have any final words that linger upon your lips before we begin this morbid dance?” There was an eerie elegance in his tone, as though it would have paired perfectly with his much preferred form of Maskahi.

In truth, he wasn't expecting any. He just wanted to savor the tension in the air a bit longer.

 

[Kaila Irons]

Initially, he was quite difficult to read. His was a deceptively stoic face for one in the midst of lashing out, and his movements, though clearly hostile, were few and deliberate.

But then he spoke.

His words were few, most idle and useless. But from a few words, the academic sorceress could divine entire stories

"...you're the apprentice, aren't you?" her tone was one of revelation.

"Oh you poor, loyal creature" she laughed at the cruel irony.

"To think that so many would happily have put their own master in Strosius' place, but it had to be yours."

Ah! there it is! She'd recognize the luring guard of Juyo anywhere, Her master's most favored form, one she had been drilled in extensively. One she had developed her skills specifically to counter, to keep her master at bay, to survive. It was a form that relied on ferocious counters, using one's own hate, yes, but also the enemy's own to empower the self.

She would give him none.

To think that they were so similar, preferring to wage a war of attrition against their enemy, to deny them their most vital resources and bleed them dry.

"I must say, this is a far cry from how I'd have handled things, were it Carnifex who'd burnt and withered. To think that, once upon a time, we could have been allies, just like that day... But you come here. To my home. We are Sith! It is our nature to scheme and betray our masters, you might have used that to your advantage, you could have taken things slow and steady.

Instead you lash out like a child."

Her tone altered between that of mocking and that of a teacher, never quite sure which to play, testing each taste in her mouth. She could feel that pain, but she certainly did not appreciate someone trying to kill her in her own home.

"But you don't want to avenge him. You'd have have sucked it up, done the work. But no, no you wanted to take the easy way out."

"Martyrdom."

"What a useless way to die" she scoffed, grip tightening.

"Or do you believe fate favors you?" Her voice became venomous, her hatred of the greater will and it's grasp on her destiny showing.

"Strike me then. Keep making enemies of the world, See how far you get alone. Prove nature wrong, that a lone wolf really can thrive"

"Prove me wrong, please" she whispered.


If only he could. If only she too could do this on her own.

Maybe she would, despite the odds. She just had to handle fate's newest obstacle first, kill it, if she had to.



Kasir Dorran

 

[Kasir Dorran]

Kaila Irons

Like a marble statue of stone, the Sith stood motionless, prepared to block any strike in a single heartbeat. His mind was a fortress, and impenetrable against the governor's words. And there was little desire to entertain them for much longer.

To Kasir, the title of 'apprentice' felt limiting. He was not a student; rather, he was a blade of the Prophet's power. "I am the living manifestation of his dominion"

There was no denying her utterances held a drop of truth; no doubt the blend of bloodlust and anger that now fueled his desires clouded his vision. The once careful planning for the sake of Wonosa had drifted away, nothing more than a distant memory under the weight of his blinded fury. But Kasir had always been like a creature of the wild, unbothered by the idea of titles and rank, instead guided by his own instincts, and capable of swinging on any who stood in his way.

“I have no doubt you would have reacted differently,” he replied coolly, his voice as smooth as the obsidian armor hugging his lithe frame. "But then, you follow a lesser Sith." He allowed the words to hang in the air, a challenge in their own right. “The one I served was not just one of power, but a protector of our own Order,” he said, his tone firm as several memories threatened to flood into his mind. “In many regions of the Outer Rim, he was adored, perhaps even revered, for liberating slaves and restoring their freedom.” He paused, feeling his grip begin to tighten around the hilt of his weapon. “But I suppose you wouldn’t understand that as a Kainite.”

The shift in her demeanor appeared obvious, almost as if she had shed a layer of skin. Yet, a small part of him couldn't help but wonder if this newfound intensity was simply a mask, a facade to hide a more pacifist nature. “You know," he began, his voice laced with a hint of intrigue, "I'm not quite convinced you’re as ruthless as you pretend to be. You seem to have such fondness for this city.”

There was a subtle shift in his stance, as he rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet. The urge to strike was becoming unbearable. ”Perhaps, like me, you have lost your sanity.” There was a pause before his own voice finally dropped to a whisper. "Nevertheless, here we are. And so it begins."

With a sudden burst of speed, he launched himself forward, a vortex of shadows and malice. The saberstaff in his hands now became an extension of his hate, humming as he closed the short distance between them. His muscles coiled as he charged, and in a moment of explosive power, he finally unleashed his attack. Channeling every ounce of his strength that coursed through him, he would execute a downward strike aimed at her. It sliced through the air with a hiss, all of his emotions forced in a single movement, a storm of violence from the depths of his being.

 

[Kaila Irons]

"But then, you follow a lesser Sith."

She smiled imperceivably beneath the mask. It was good, in a way, to finally hear someone who openly hated her master almost as much as she did.

But it was such a shame that her only kindred were utter fools. A lost cause.


The Inquisitor's bemused taunts belied his restless hate, an reckless impatience that she would have considered a boon to take advantage of if not for his blinding speed and primal strength. He was a fool perhaps, but there was an unnatural power behind his blow that sent the woman scrambling to defend herself, crossing her sabers above her head to keep the staff from cleaving her down the middle, snarling through grit teeth as her knees bent, driving all her weight forward just to stay on her feet.

"You know nothing of slavery!" she growled with a newfound ferocity, pushing hard against the foes saber, her metal bones adding a surprising weight the young woman's strength.

"Ignorant zealot! What do you think a Kainite is?!"

He had struck a nerve triggered something deep in her prosthetic bones, bones that her master had beaten like a blacksmith beats steel into shape. She was tired of the assumptions, of pretending they were true to hide treasonous intent from her master, of letting people tell her she were things that she was not.

"Where was your master when I needed men like the him most?!"

Employing her fondness for Tràkata, Her small shoto quickly deactivated only to reappear in a sudden thrust at the assassin's stomach, counting on her primary blade to have entangled his staff as she twisted her body to allow his overhead blow to finally finish whilst she was out of harm's way, although this meant her own would be locked to the floor as well.

To free herself of this predicament, two of the fingers about her right hand would extend as she twisted her shoto to the side, pointing to him as an unseen hand pushed from within, her near mastery of telekinesis such that even this small gesture sent a ripple through the force as if a tidal wave through still water.

"GET OUT OF MY CITY."



Kasir Dorran

 

[Kasir Dorran]

Kaila Irons

Kaisr was not one to typically rush in to try and deliver a fatal blow at the first clash of lightsabers. But she was not an ordinary opponent, that much was clear. A single misstep could easily be the end of his life. Still, there was an oddly comforting thrill to being on the edge of life and death.

Questions and pleas alike were insignificant in battle, often drowned out by his own bloodlust. His vessel’s thirst for both death and destruction cared little for much else, but her comments still managed to find their way into the dark recesses of his conscience. Given the nature of the Sith, he would forever be on guard around his own treacherous kind.

The next whisper was one of danger, as though it sent a jolt through his being, his gaze barely having the chance to flicker down, in search of the disturbance just felt. With instinct forged through countless years of rigorous training, he twisted with fluidity that defied mortal capability once the blade shot up at him. While he was able to evade the lethal blow, he could feel the intense heat of the blade passing just by his side.

While his gaze was fixated upon her, his eyes narrowed, constantly aware of her movements, always studying with the preciseness of a predator. He then saw her hand move. It was much more than a gesture; she was manifesting her power. Given the lack of time to prepare, naturally he found himself on his backfoot, harnessing his own power with haste. A counterwave of energy ignited around him, thickening like smoke, bracing for the onslaught. He felt the invisible telekinetic push fall upon him in the short distance that separated them. All he could do was channel his anger and hatred into a barrier of cold darkness that would surge forth to meet her attack. The two energies clashed, though closer to himself than the governor, sending a shockwave that rippled through the air. Kasir felt himself being pushed back with immense force, his feet sliding against the ground while fighting to maintain his balance.

Wasting no time, he was once again closing the gap between them. Each step, though slower now, became more calculated. Kasir wanted to be the one leading the dance.

A sneer curled along his lips. “Did you weep for this place too when it descended into chaos? Echnos City will be nothing more but a graveyard of broken dreams.” There was a pause as he strode forward. “Or is it because you desire escape now? As if you are now bound in a prison of your own making from belief in a false doctrine. But I will guide you into the abyss, where death will at last grant you the freedom that this life never could.”

While still managing his distance, he executed a feint, sweeping his saberstaff low. It was mainly used to gauge her reaction, to see if she would commit to it, possibly even lower her guard. A test and a taunt; he was searching for vulnerabilities. His intent would then shift, pulling the weapon back ever so slightly. With a fierce thrust, he then propelled a single blade forward, its vibrant red glow aiming to pierce through her defenses, in the same way that he wanted his words to pierce her mind.

 

[Kaila Irons]

Gods he was fast! But not so fast that she could not keep up, she could see it in the way his feet slid just barely, his protective barrier close to his chest as he twisted to summon it before blade nor sorcery could harm him. It was close because he barely had time to summon it, unable to expand to it's full radius as her own power slammed against it, the resulting wave of energy causing her own cloak to flap and flutter.

They both took a few steps back as the clashing wave subsided, Kaila instinctively taking a new stance, her true methodology now on display. Her shoto had been flipped into a reverse shien grip, held vertical to the ground and poised to parry the low blows famous of polearms such as his. Her second blade however was held parallel to her shoulders, the twin blades forming a T-shaped defense akin to her visor, or that of foreign warriors of Mandalore. She had slipped easily into her preferred form as she circled the viper that was Kasir Dorran , recalling the exploits of it's most powerful master, Exar Kun.

Niman, the Way of the Rancor...

Like the wild beasts of Dathomir for which it were named, she planned to wield ferocity in a manner best described as chaotic in it's violence and unpredictability. A perfect balance in it's strong defense and wild offense.

But she would wait, she would be patient for a time, to observe and dissect her opponent until she had learned all she needed.

A sneer curled along his lips. “Did you weep for this place too when it descended into chaos? Echnos City will be nothing more but a graveyard of broken dreams.” There was a pause as he strode forward. “Or is it because you desire escape now? As if you are now bound in a prison of your own making from belief in a false doctrine. But I will guide you into the abyss, where death will at last grant you the freedom that this life never could.”

"You haven't been any paying attention."

She stepped back to avoid the false blow, the feint doing little to her guard just as his words meant nothing to her, for they were false. Willfully ignorant, even with this glimpse into her motives, he couldn't take the hint.

And so he no longer interested her.

"My beliefs are my own. Not a single sith shares them. But they will. Even if I have to kill the lot of you first."

With a hiss both from the mouth of it's maker and from it's crimson blade, her shoto made contact with bladed staff, holding it aside as she took advantage of the opening in a newfound burst of aggression as she aimed to counterstrike in a sudden lunging thrust with her opposite saber, aiming to force the man into close quarters where the reach of his staff would become unwieldly, perhaps even barrel into the man hilt-deep on her blade if he couldn't find a way to defend himself from this deceptively quick and precisely ferocious onslaught.



Kasir Dorran