Faction New Blood // Inaugural Trials

[Kai'lyn]

"One chrono-second, Overseers, fellow Acolytes, and those above us - dealing with a brutish mammal who decided to get uppity today."
"You know, Mammal, you look diseased. Have you considered perhaps taking a bath?"
"Actually, no, a bath may be too little for a smelly corpse such as yourself. Perhaps a waste disposal unit for hazardous materials ought to work better?"

"Power is not merely the ability to strike,"​

"Power is control—control over yourself first, over your surroundings, and most importantly, over your enemies."​

"Do not mistake haste for strength or aggression for dominance. A Sith must be measured and in control. Kai'lyn here has forgotten a most important tenet of our kind. There is no victory without discipline,"​

"Kor'ethyr rules exist not to shackle you, but to sharpen you. Without control, you are a beast. And beasts are slaughtered."​

"As you were,"​

"You have a patron." "or a Master?"​

Sssslik Spirit of Korriban

Kai'lyn rebounded into a somersault over the strange blue-scaled snake, claws slicing the air in a swift swipe as he flipped. He landed on his feet with the poised grace of a hunting cat, his form taut with readiness. His speed was remarkable, a blur of motion as he sized up his opponent.

But then, the snake spoke.

Kai'lyn straightened, his head cocking to one side as he tilted his sensitive head-tendrils forward, curiosity and caution mingling in his gaze. He wasn't hallucinating; the snake was talking—talking to him. Even though he caught the underlying tone of insult in the creature's voice, certain unfamiliar words left him puzzling. His thoughts scrambled to process their meaning when, suddenly, he felt the force descend upon him. Immobilized, he could do nothing as an unseen power seemed to lash against him, flipping his world upside down in an agonizing grip.

In truth, Kai'lyn was little more than a wild creature at heart, a beast of raw instincts. His time in captivity had taught him only the barest limits of control, tempered by cruelty and the whims of neglectful slave masters who'd exploited him for their own gain.

He crashed against the unyielding stone floor with a force that rattled his bones, sand grinding into his skin as he coughed in pain. Anger surged within him, a furious heat boiling up from deep within his core. He snarled, glowered, hissed, and even let out sharp squeaks, his protests raw, visceral, and animalistic. His fangs snapped as he tried to sink his teeth into Darth Thaliax's boot the moment it came close to his mouth. Though he was still trapped, paralyzed and wracked with unbearable pain, the way his slender, sinewy form trembled left no doubt—he was desperate to sink his teeth into his tormentor, to tear the man apart like a cornered, feral cat. It would seem at the momment no verbal response was forth comming.

 

[Elmindra Xitaar]

Korriban | Vardin | Palatial Capital | Spires of Kor'ethyr

Darth Caedes | Diarch Reign | Lodd Grimmin | Akhuul Sautra | Kyraj | Naamino Zuukamano | Leshanna | Aliyah | Sssslik | Kai'lyn | Revna

Elmindra held the tension like a breath caught in her throat, prepared to defend any errant claims of superiority from this interloper who called himself Darth Cryptis. Her gaze was sharp and deadly as it settled on the mechanical Sith like a veiled threat, yet the calm stillness of her body language showed no sign of her readiness to interject. Despite his insolence, the cyborg did not appear to mean any harm to the king or his vassals and, in truth, she was grateful for that. If Darth Cryptis was in fact who he claimed to be, she would much prefer to have him as an ally than an adversary. Regardless, she trusted her king would handle him and she was not disappointed.

With a smile and a simple halting gesture, Darth Caedes made it clear that he required no defense, not from her and not from his Dreadlords. She too found herself smiling as he delivered his response with calm finality in a tone that commanded recognition yet still paid due respect to the ancient right of this visitor. Silently and not for the first time, she appreciated the growth she had seen in Caedes since he’d stepped into his role of leadership on Korriban. He had come a long way from the ascetic monk she had found gathering dust in an ancient Sith temple all those years ago.

The full weight of her attention bore down on Darth Reign as he addressed her directly. Although intentionally subtle at the moment, her pheromones would begin to take effect on him as he drew closer. Ultimately intended to calm Darth Caedes, the effect would be one of serenity and perhaps even encourage the desire to be of service to her. She maintained a stoney expression, watching him carefully, assessing the best way to approach the purpose of their meeting.

“Your condolences are appreciated,” she began cordially, “as is your interest in friendship.” There was almost an amused tone to the word, as if she hadn’t expected such an affectionate term to be used for discussion of their alliance but was willing to entertain it.

“What you refer to as a disaster, many are calling a victory. I am inclined to agree with your assessment. The betrayal at Sluis Van is another example of the Sith Order’s crippling divisiveness, a weakness that has allowed the Galactic Alliance to thrive,” she asserted, a clear venom behind the decorum she wore so effortlessly.

“The King and I invited you here because we are of a mind that true power comes from unity and loyalty to a cause. We do not lack resources – Korriban and the greater Kainite Order remain formidable, I can assure you, but we are motivated now more than ever to forge alliances with those who share our values and can be of use to us.”

She turned to him more fully, sizing him up, her tone taking on a natural air of command.

“Tears will not avenge the lost, Darth Reign. Action will. So I ask, can we expect the support of your Diarchy?”​

 

[Leshanna]

The Zabrak boy uttered a sharp curse as the edge of her blade bit into his shoulder, drawing a thin line of blood to the surface. He clearly was not happy with her now, and was in as much pain as she was, and a warning popped off in the back of her mind: he was going to try and make her pay for that.

She needed to be prepared for him to come after her with far more aggression now, and she needed to find the courage within herself to face that - and the cunning to use it against him.

But before the two could square up again, a commotion stole the attention of all the dueling students. Leshanna watched in spooked awe as the armored and definitely more scary looking man who seemed to be in charge of the duels, reacted with a swiftness she didn’t know was possible for one like him, as he dealt with a student who didn’t seem to be following the rules. Lesh swallowed hard, seeing what he did as she heard his voice echo across to them all. She’d seen reprimands and punishments dolled out at the orphanage…but nothing like this.

Still, there was something in the way this ‘Sith’ moved and carried himself that struck a chord within her. A control over himself, his surroundings, and others around him that brought her a sense of awe. There was more to it, of course, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on it. But the actions taken by the dark armored Sith was both a reminder to her as to what would happen should she break the rules of the Academy, and an inspiration for her, of what she could achieve herself.

And it seemed her Zabrak opponent was just as inspired as she was, for he turned around to face her once more with a renewed zeal, and as their eyes met - he charged her with a fierce yell, making a lunge towards her that she almost wasn’t prepared for. She was thankful then that she was quick and agile, and could react fairly quickly to situations around her. The lunge towards her turned out to be a false lead, and his real attack came as a spinning slash towards her legs. He, like her, was down to one arm - for hers had grown numb and nerveless and would not respond to any command. A scary situation to deal with, but instead of giving in to her fear and cowering away, she felt it swirl and surge through her, helping to make her feel physically faster and more mentally sharp. She didn’t understand why that was, but she certainly was going to use it to her advantage!

Lesh could see that his wounded arm made him a bit unbalanced and she reacted on instinct, leaping to the side to avoid his strike to her legs, then launching herself back at him from the foot she put her weight on when leaping away, hoping to capitalize on his lack of balance by pressuring his good side. She made an overhand swipe toward the Zabrak’s shoulder, her face contorted with her effort and her adrenaline. It left her open for a counterstrike but she was hoping her speed would outmatch his ferocity.

If she could keep up the pressure with rapid strikes, and keep him on the defensive - then just maybe she could force him back down to the ground. She rather liked how she felt when she sent him down on one knee before her, and she wanted to see him end up like that again.

Naamino Zuukamano

​

 

[Diarch Reign]

Darth Reign smiled slightly, he was glad that his condolences were well received. In fact, he was glad to have been invited here.

He would look past the emphasis on the friendship, he knew that the way he spoke sometimes took people by surprise, but he had chosen the word carefully.

Reign was pleasantly surprised at the First Lords derision of the divisiveness of the Sith, as well as her claim for unity. He was however, rankled by the “air of command” and forthright call for the Diarchy’s support.

As the First Lord turned toward him, The Diarch also stood to his full height, sizing up the Falleen as she she did him.

“I am here in friendship First Lord, make no mistake. Should your cause for unity prove just, you can count on me and my forces to stand by your side. But I will not throw the lives of my people away to perpetuate the chaos of the Sith order.”

He clasped his hands behind his back staring directly into the Falleen’s eyes, his tone matching hers.

“You may not agree with me, but the Jedi order and the Sith order are failing, they refuse to evolve. The galaxy is thrown into chaos by their conflict that stems from this failure to change. I exist, the Diarchy exists, to bring order to that Chaos. We believe that true power is gained by sharing what power we have, and we recognize that the bonds of family, and friendship, are not weaknesses as the Sith of old would have us believe, but a source of unlimited power. We have grown to eschew the pursuit of personal power and the deceitful, back stabbing ways of the Sith of old, in dedication to one another, lifting each other up and lending our power to those who need it.”

He paused a moment, letting his words sink in, he needed the first lord to know that if an alliance is to be in the cards, their ideals needed to align as well.

“The galaxy needs a strong guiding hand to find order within the chaos, and to achieve peace for my children, for all children, and their children’s children. I am here in good faith, as from what I’ve heard, you and your king feel at least in some way, the same. I would like the opportunity to discover the truth for myself. And as I said, talk of friendship between our peoples.”

He waited a moment longer before saying.

“Tears may not avenge the fallen, yet I will shed them for the destruction of innocence. Do not mistake my empathy for weakness, first lord, for at the first opportunity, whoever would sow such chaos, will find my blade in their chest.

Elmindra Xitaar Darth Caedes Akhuul Sautra Revna

 

[Gavin Vel]

Objective 2: Rayth


A small voice in the back of Gavin’s mind warned him that he wasn’t ready. That he should be up in the stands, watching from the shadows, learning from those stronger than himself. But greatness wasn’t achieved by standing back; it was forged in choices that others would consider reckless. If he stayed silent and watched, he would remain nothing more than another faceless acolyte. Today, he intended to make his presence known. Even if his name landed on just a single whispering tongue, he would mark himself as someone to watch—a rising force.

His training had been uneven. His control over the Force remained elusive, slipping through his grasp whenever he tried to wield it beyond the basics. Yet, in combat, he felt that fleeting connection, the dark current that fueled his strength. Here, his skills had flourished. The bone-carved sword in his hand felt unfamiliar and heavy, a stark contrast to the training sabers he’d been accustomed to. He ran his thumb over the serrated edge, feeling the faint bumps of the pelko bug barbs embedded in the blade. One nick, one slip, and his veins would be filled with their venom—a searing pain designed to bring even the strongest to their knees.

Pain. He knew it well. It was a companion as familiar as the shadows on Korriban. He had once feared pain, then learned to ignore it. Now, he was being taught to wield it as a weapon. For most, pain was a deterrent, but for those who dared embrace the dark side, it was fuel. Pain heightened awareness, sharpened rage, made the Force pulse through his veins with a clarity he’d only dreamed of.

While he waited for his turn, Gavin moved through a few practice swings, adjusting to the weapon’s weight. The sword’s heft demanded precision; any misstep could mean leaving himself exposed. Around him, other Initiates prepared in their own ways. Some brooded in silence, while others meditated with eyes closed, their minds honing on the dark energy around them. Gavin’s eyes drifted over the others, a silent assessment of those who would one day be his rivals. Was he the weakest among them? Somewhere in the middle? He doubted he stood at the top, but his pride forbade him from conceding that anyone here could outmatch him. If challenged, he would meet them with fire.

“Gavin Vel, you’re up,” a figure announced, snapping him from his thoughts. Gavin took a final, steadying breath, lifting his head with a confidence that bordered on defiance. He stood tall, pulling his frame to its full, imposing height, and strode out into the open of the Shadowed Arena.

The amphitheater was massive, its expanse filled with spectators seated in shadow. Their faces were hidden, their identities unimportant; all that mattered was that they were watching. The masters of the Academy, the hidden powerhouses, the lurking shadows—today, he would make them remember his name. Gavin removed his black robe, leaving it discarded in the waiting area, and stepped out into the arena clad in the dark, practical attire of an acolyte. House Rakghoul had claimed him, though he’d yet to be formally welcomed. Perhaps they were watching now.

His opponent, named Rayth, stood across the arena. Gavin knew little of him, just another face among those vying for recognition. The lack of familiarity tugged at his instincts; it was probably foolish not to have made allies among the ranks. But alliances could wait. Today was about proving himself, not to friends, but to anyone who might question his resolve.

A smirk tugged at Gavin’s lips as he turned, not to Rayth, but to the audience. Lifting the bone-carved sword high above his head, he called out to them, his voice carrying through the arena with unshakable confidence. “Gavin Vel!” he shouted, a challenge as much as an introduction. “Today, you learn and remember the name!” His voice echoed, bold and unafraid, before he returned his gaze to his opponent.

With the taunt of a smile still lingering, he pointed the sword directly at Rayth, his expression shifting to one of intense focus. “Today, they learn the name, while you earn the scars to remember it by.” The venomous edge in his tone promised no mercy, only pain and the grim certainty that this duel would be unforgettable for both of them.

Taking his stance, Gavin held the sword ready, the weight of it finally settling into familiarity as he prepared for the clash. The words echoed in his mind, driving him forward: Earn your right to be called a Sith.

He would not let this moment slip. Today, he would fight. And today, they would remember.

 

[Naamino Zuukamano]

Her speed was impressive and she clearly made to push her advantage in any way she could. So while Leshanna swung quickly, he had a shorter distance to move to block and his strength outmatched hers. The clash of their blades sent a new wave of pain through him as his legs pushed him up from the crouching spin to meet her with a decisive block.

Naami seemed to sense her momentum and intention to rapidly strike so he leapt backwards in a hasty disengage. The boy retreated only in the sense of preparing a better defense, turning his body to narrow himself as a target- facing his useless shoulder toward her and leveling the blade close to his own body across his chest. It's tip pointing at her in a challenge. His expression faded into neutrality, blue eyes looking dark and stormy. Naamino awaited her next attack.

 

[Aliyah]

Aliyah was at severe disadvantage, but in spite of that she stood her ground. With her vision blinded, she focused on her other senses - primarily hearing, and also that which is granted to her by the Force. That was what made her feel the incoming attack from Sssslik. Her expression soured however, as she relized that there is no possible way for her to dodge the unorthodox strike in time.

The girl steps to the side, and the flying by serpentine grazes her shoulder, although graze would have been a charitable word, with the amount of momentum and force behind the strike, a shock of pain courses through the young acolyte, making her yelp and shudder. Though she wasn't down yet, through sheer force of will she ran up to the snake sentient, and as his guard was down, she made a few swift slaps across his body, intending to end the fight by making him collapse from pain before she did - as a Tsis'kaar she was privy to the teachings of anatomy of different species, and weakest spots, so she intended to prod these spots.

Regardless of whether she succeeds or not, she would likely be unable to put up much of a fight afterwards.

Sssslik

 

[Leshanna]

Though she was quick on her feet and quick to make her strike, the Zabrak was able to bring his blade up in time to catch hers, stopping her momentum and holding her at bay. He was strong, stronger than she was - but that was no surprise to her. Almost everyone was stronger than her, and only younger and smaller children than her were physically weaker.

Pain radiated throughout her entire body, originating from her arm that had been grazed and was now affected by the pelko bug’s toxin. They both were an arm down, and the pain was enough to break through the girl’s hazy, excited mind and bring something to her she loathed to feel:

Fear.

If she lost this fight…then surely she would be cast out of this academy? Only the best could continue; if she failed, then that was that. Her mistress would be so displeased with her…maybe enough to sell her back to those awful pirates who had taken her.

NO. She refused.

As the boy disengaged from her and retreated a bit to gain distance from her, Leshanna lifted her gaze to stare back at him - her fear evaporating as a smoldering, determined anger took hold of her. She wasn’t angry at him, more or less what he symbolized to young Lesh in that moment.

The Zabrak was the sum of all her past failures, fears, and missed opportunities. And she was determined to finally beat them.

The young girl did not pursue him when he retreated and made himself to be as narrow of a target as possible, presenting his injured side to her; instead, she watched and studied him with a glare, the pain that rolled through her making her more and more agitated as the moments passed by.

Beyond this, she was feeling a soreness begin to take hold of her sword arm; she’d never done anything like this before, so naturally exhaustion was beginning to creep in. She hoped it was the same for her opponent; if she could hold out a little longer than him, then maybe she could wear him out.

Lesh lifted her own blade to chest level, holding it so that it was in a horizontal guard before her, feeling herself wind up like an angry coil ready to be unleashed. She kept her gaze on the boy before her, watching him carefully as she made her next move, almost leaping towards him once more with her quick turn of speed, hoping to goad him into stabbing forward towards her. If he did this, then she would shift on her feet while he was in mid lunge and make a slash towards his sword arm. If he didn't, well - then she would just have to improvise on the spot and hope she didn't cut cut by his blade again!

Naamino Zuukamano
​

 

[Sssslik]

The snake, the Fillithar, wasn't exactly able to process much at this time given his nausea - and even as the girl struck at him with calculated precision, he still didn't feel anything. But he didn't notice anything, and therefore, as Sssslik turned to face her and smugly grinned, scales glistening under the Korriban sun. A hissing laugh escaped him as he puffed up on his coils and tried to perform something along the lines of an improvised dance. He was... quite good at talking much of his smack, as Sssslik gloated so very, very freely after dropping the one training blade he held in his mouth. It was important to make sure the Opponent knew the use of his... Sssslik could have sworn it was called something? Bun Morb? Who knew.

"Hiss-hehe, you may got hands, girl, but you couldn't choke this Fillithar! Looks like my serpentine kin take another win again over that of monk-."

It was at this moment Sssslik knew, he kriffed up.

Oof.

Because immediately, he flopped over, training saber rolling out of the grip of his tail respective, as he hissed out in discomfort. On the tiniest gap between his scales, was a small, gentle nick. Big 'ole eyes, red and now rounded pupils, saw him making mouthing motions as if saying 'yeah I may have grown a little too overconfident.'

He really should have reminded himself that overconfidence is a slow and insidious killer. Like an old person with a slugthrower.

Ah well.

Time to eat... bird, now?

And thus did Sssslik await the court of public humiliation to laugh at him now...

Aliyah​

 

[Naamino Zuukamano]

Her mirroring of his stance very nearly drew a smirk out of him, they both seemed to understand the merit of making yourself a smaller target while shielding in whatever way you could. But there was no time for him to think on it further or call out a comment because she was at him again in moments. Leshanna was correct in thinking that a goad would work, however he ducked as he lunged and swiped in a quick slicing movement to try slicing at her side. The move kept his blade high enough to defend himself even if he missed. Naami's form was more compact than ever and he hunched his shoulders to close himself off to any errant body blows she might try.

 

[Darth Caedes]

​

Korriban​

Vardin, Palatial Capital of Korriban​

Spires of Kor'ethyr​

Tags— Zal Aditi | Madrona A’Mia | Naamino Zuukamano | Diarch Reign | Lodd Grimmin | Kyraj | Leshanna | Gavin Vel | Rayth ​

​

I felt the whispers in my bones, the quiet, relentless beat of memories clawing from some buried depth within me. They called out from the back of my mind, a tangled, haunting chorus never truly made silent. Traitor, hissed one. Weak, muttered another. Did you ever believe you could be whole? The voices twisted, growing sharper, finding old wounds and driving into them with bloody fingers. Is this what you've become? I schooled my expression into that familiar mask of calm, the character of King, and felt the faint intoxication of Elmindra's influence blanketing my mind in sweet smelling cotton fuzz. Her pheromones suppressed the worst of it all, soothing my senses and forcing the voices down—down to where they waited beneath murky surfaces, ready for ambush when my mind drifted and I lost grip on focus.

"The old ways have always been our most reliable foundations for future," I agreed, resolutely, as if Cryptis' desires were my own.​

"Your people's legacy will be well preserved, Lord Cryptis, and all the more, with you at my side."​

I offered a thin, knowing smile, leaning forward in my throne and gesturing with a hand. The other's mechanical expression revealed nothing, but a flicker in the Force confirmed that my answer had pleased him. Good then, I nodded. For now, I could turn to the matters before me.

I stood, allowing my robes to settle, and descended the throne's stairs to where Elmindra Xitaar , Lodd Grimmin , and Diarch Reign conversed from behind cordial smiles. As I passed him by, motioning an invitation to Akhuul Sautra with a tilt of my head, a distinctly familiar presence brushed my mind. Revna , young and newly masterless. I found her gaze without trying, a pair of burning eyes like still-hot coals already fixed on me. Anguish swirled within her, muted and bruised now into something which could be mastered, hidden beneath the surface. I let my gaze pass her by. She would grieve in her own way, as we all did, yet the connection we'd already forged allowed me to feel the raw edges of her pain, that gaping hollowness in her chest, like acid. I understood the silent pleas of loss all too well, those emotions she took pains to hide from an otherwise neutral expression. Once, I had lost a Master too. Pathetic, a voice hissed within me, aimed not at her but at myself, seizing on that spark of empathy. Sentimental, weak, it sneered, clawing at my mind with disdain. Are you so quick to forget the punishments of compassion?

Hesitating, I turned my attention fully to the crowds, to Elmindra and her gathered company, letting the remnants of those whispers drown in the ambient churn of pheromones and talking heads; greeting Reign and Grimmin with a measured nod and falling into the cadence of conversation. I caught the final exchange between Elmindra and Darth Reign, his voice smooth yet tempered by a rare blend of sorrow and resolve. I could feel Elmindra's tone strike a nerve in him, her bluntness cutting against the caution of his words.

"I am here in good faith," he explained.​

"I would like the opportunity to discover the truth for myself. And as I said, talk of friendship between our peoples."​

I chose then to sweep forward and join the conversation, sharp eyes flicking like silent whip-cracks to ward off Elmindra's fervor.

"Darth Reign, you can imagine my pleasure then, to hear that our goals are in such alignment," I implied, diplomatically.​

"The Sith Order has for too long embraced a philosophy of self-destruction. We've sought dominance not only over the galaxy but, more importantly, over one another. It's become a cycle of rivalry so ingrained in us, so relentless, so brutal that it now breeds strife in place of stability. This, we know, does not serve our greater vision."​

Reign's gaze met mine and I poured myself in through the windows of his eyes; felt both his skepticism and intrigue. He knew, as well as I, how traditions ran deep, how they entrenched the Sith in perpetual feuding. He had been taught those lessons by someone close to him, I divined, by... a father. I pressed on.

"Where rivalry can lead to growth, so too can unity. I envision a people fortified not by subterfuge and fear, rather in shared purpose. However, I will not shy from conflict. Merely, I intend to wield it in the creation of our legacy, this peace you speak of—imagine a new generation of Sith capable of challenging the galaxy without first splintering from within and turning on one another. True allies in such an endeavor are not a luxury," I warned, "they are a necessity. And I seek to stand with those willing to co-create in that vision."​

I paused, letting the weight of my words settle, feeling the attentions of Reign, Lodd Grimmin, and Elmindra come to bare.

"Friendship, Lord Reign, is indeed what we offer," I agreed, gesturing with an open hand.​

"Trade Monarch Grimmin," I said, turning to face the esteemed neimoidian with a casual air.​

"I am prepared to offer you terms which ensure your Federation's foothold across numerous critical systems, and make your investment not only profitable but strategic in the long run. The Sith hold many vast, resource-rich worlds in the Outer Rim, underutilized yet brimming with potential for mutual profit. With the Trade Federation's long-term involvement, we could shape these systems into vital economic benefactors. Through investment in infrastructure, industry, military innovation, and the creation of new, proprietary trade routes, the Federation could establish exclusive commercial rights undeterred and out of reach of the Galactic Alliance and their political theater."​

​

​

 

[Lodd Grimmin]

Diarch Reign Darth Caedes @Others

Lodd might have appeared to an external observer to be daydreaming; however, he was actually engaging in a much more significant assignment. He was attentively listening to the masterful conversation between First Lord Elmindra Xitaar and Diarch Reign , as each of them made valid points of consideration on various topics all within the span of a few minutes.

Each sentence, though rather short, was crafted with intention and accuracy, providing sufficient information to engage the present audience without offering any guarantees in return. This approach was a common tactic utilized by the Trade Federation during business negotiations and that made him the reigning power in the business arrangements moving forward.

As the discussions reached their natural conclusion, this tactic afforded the Trade Monarch the chance to gather his thoughts, once the elaborate yet practical mechno-chair adjusted his position from the other balcony, enabling him to express his ideas clearly to everyone waiting nearby.

Although before a single syllable was able to emerge from his lips, the seemingly aloof King of Korriban and Dark Lord Darth Caedes descended from the throne of power to engage with lesser individuals nearby. Such a perception although unfounded was held by the Neimoidian at that precise moment, despite the fact that the actual speech exchanged between them was characterized by friendliness.

"Ah...You do make a compelling case as to why the Trade Federation should engage in a direct and equitable partnership. There are boundless resources within Sith Space that need proper oversight in order to thrive and become profitable, undoubtedly even more profitable than the largest contributors to the Galactic Alliance in the form of the Corellia Confederation and the Humbarine-Kuat Monarchy." Lodd explained with small hints of a satisfied expression, understanding that Korriban and Sith Space had the potential to outproduce even the largest power in the galaxy within a few years with the right investments and management.

"Although before we engage in productive dialogue on the matter of business agreements. I would like to request a modest favor from your Majesty in exchange for my unwavering support. The N&Z Corporation has positioned itself as a self-proclaimed competitor to our organization and is gradually encroaching upon Sith Space. I kindly seek your assistance in the Sith Assembly to impose a wide-spread ban on their operations within your territories." He said after a few moments to get the point across, knowing that their self-proclaimed rival was starting to become much more of a nuisance than previously estimated by the Executive Board. He would gladly throw support behind the Kingdom of Korriban in exchange for his vote within the Assembly, to impose a blacklist of the corporation from Sith Space entirely.

 

[Micah tol Powl]

Darth Caedes Zal Aditi Kivah The Scion Marcus Dinn

Ganguls tended to hunt in packs.

When his tribe would hunt ganguls, one of the methods that they'd use to try and confuse a particularly strong specimen would be to try and change up its target. Keep it off balance.

Tuk'ata weren't ganguls, but the logic seemed sound. Nothing ventured, nothing gained.

His tuk'ata just starting to come around, the boy shifted his attention to the one focused on Kivah. Reversing his grip on his knives, he struck at the beast's hindquarters.

He ducked a tail swipe. But it seemed he'd gotten its attention. As it started to turn, a knife came sailing through the air.

"Meow!" the boy chirped, ducking as it sailed over his head.

The tuk'ata's jaws snapped at him, narrowly missing as the boy slashed at the creature's nose. It tried to pounce on him, but the small cat had ducked and rolled before it could land.

He heard a sound, but didn't have time to look over at Kivah as the beast was already turning on him again. The boy dodged a paw swipe, skipping backwards as he tried to come up with a new angle. Which was when he saw a ledge overhead that gave him an idea. Ducking a tail, jumping over a paw, the cat nimbly sprinted down the tuk'ata's spine before launching himself up into the air.

The hem of his robe was shredded by the tuk'ata, as it turned and leapt after him. Finding just enough outcropping to jump from place to place along the exposed rock face, the boy managed to land up on the outcropping.

The tuk'ata was right below. Clawing and climbing.

Exhaling, the boy put his hands out and tried to...

...honestly, he wasn't even sure. This was the annoying part about the Force. Was it a feeling? Was it like wonder twin powers activate? Was it some kind of allergic reaction to midi-chlorians?

"Come on..." the boy said, reaching in deep and hoping to find anything.

The tuk'ata was getting closer.

"Come on..."

Was this what he was supposed to be feeling? An impending doom surrounded by the idea that the Force wasn't coming?

"JUST KARKING WORK, DAMN IT!"

The boy's outburst seemed to ignite something. Something that stretched from within him to the ledge. Cracks formed, as the outcropping gave way. Vaulting backward, the boy landed on his feet as he heard the rock collapse below.

Peering over the edge, the tuk'ata's body was partially buried beneath where the rock had come down on its head.

"Ha!" the cat chirped, before his attention re-focused.

There was still the other tuk'ata. And he needed to catch up with Kivah.

 

[Spirit of Korriban]

Sith Holy Worlds
Korriban
Kor'ethyr Dueling Pits
Tags— Naamino Zuukamano | Leshanna | Diarch Reign | Kyraj | Elmindra Xitaar | Aliyah

Thaliax tilted his head, watching with a bemused stillness as Kai'lyn's mouth gnashed in futile defiance, teeth ClacK-clackING with animal instinct. The youth's lekku twitched against the stone floor, body rigid and defiant. Thaliax's breath mask hissed softly with a slow, measured exhale—a sound halfway caught between disapproval and a grim satisfaction. With the heel of his boot, he pressed down on the acolyte's shoulder, pinning him fully, as one might a feral creature.

"Bold," Thaliax murmured, his voice barely more than a whisper.​

"But there's a difference between boldness and madness."​

He leaned down close, his worn, mechanical visage mere inches from Kai'lyn's face, the cold glare of his eyes boring through the murky grime of his dust covered mask.

"Channel this," he hissed, "and perhaps, with time, you might wield it."​

He rose again dismissive, leaving Kai'lyn sprawled. He turned his back to the dueling lane, his gaze already seeking the next student to watch—and perhaps to temper.
​

 

[Leshanna]

Leshanna’s move against him had its risks as well as its rewards, both in equal measure.

Just as she had hoped, her Zabrak fighting partner fell for her goading - but he ducked and made his own attack as she went for hers. She tried to shift away but she couldn’t do so in time, and the edge of his blade bit deep into the flesh of her hip. The pain was immediate, and the jarring hit sent the girl crashing onto the hard rocky surface of the dueling platform. Panic surged through Leshanna, as the agony began to radiate and with it came the numbness.

But the panic rapidly turned to a fierce anger, and a ferocious yell of pained frustration tore from her throat and, while still laying on ground with her own blood staining the stone under her, she made a desperate strike back at the Zabrak in retaliation, throwing all of her energy into a vicious swipe aimed for the leg closest to her.

If she was going to be forced to fight from the ground, then so was he.

Naamino Zuukamano

​

 

[Naamino Zuukamano]

His triumph was fleeting and her retaliation swift. Naami grunted with pain as she lashed out and the tip of her blade cut into the meat of his low calf. He attempted to adjust, to balance on one leg as the other went both limp and excruciatingly painful but failed to correct in time. The zabrak toppled over just after his opponent did but his fall was near silent. He tightened those muscles he still had control over- opposite leg and arm taking stock of the ground beneath him since he'd fallen supine.

Naamino Zuukamano clenched the sword tighter in his fist, engaged his core, and rolled to swing like his life depended on it. Arcing the blade in a way that would bring it slamming downwards into whatever was beneath it. With her furious determination and thrashing wildcat movements he could only hope he hit Leshanna in a way that would end things decisively because he knew he was very nearly out of fight himself.

 

[Chasianna]

Location: Desert of Golg - Korriban
Tag: Micah tol Powl Kivah The Scion Zal Aditi
Direct Engagement: Marcus Dinn

Chasianna took another short glance at the pet beelzebork, which soon began to bark in loud, persistent fashion as the seemingly lone tuk’ata stalked the group from the east. The Qilin narrowed her eyes and frowned, before shaking her head and turning her attention back towards the approaching tuk’ata. While the art of the beast master was lost on her, she didn’t dare turn her back to her partner’s pet. Thus, the vibroblade in her grasp suddenly expanded out from its hilt, thereby revealing the full length of the weapon and its honed mono-molecular edge.

Then, at the behest of its master, the beelzebork sped past her, racing in the wake of the thrown dagger before biting its claws into the tuk’ata’s tough hide.

"I'll keep back for now," Marcus told Chasianna, still controlling his dagger with deft finesse. "I'm not much use in close quarters combat right now. Besides, you're faster than me anyway..."

“Whatever you say,” Chasianna answered in a slightly rising tone, that seemed to carry equal parts disbelief and pity in its soprano notes. The tiny Qilin did not buy for a moment that the artificer was as physically weak as he presented himself to be, but the time to coax out his true strength could come later.

It was time to showcase her own.

Chasianna took off towards the tuk’ata, her feet carrying her at a blistering pace before they suddenly launched her skyward in a powerful leap, sending her tiny form somersaulting over the tuk’ata as it tried to shake off the beelzebork biting at its heels. She landed in a low crouch, on the opposite side of the two beasts. However, the tuk’ata spun around with explosive speed, swiping at the tiny Qilin just as she managed to get her bearings.

Ducking just under the incoming swipe, Chasianna tucked her body into a roll and threw herself laterally, before coming back up on two feet, now positioned at the tuk’ata’s right flank. Almost immediately, the tiny Qilin swung her vibroblade in a descending crosswise forehand strike from her own left shoulder to right hip, the edge biting deep into the canine’s tough hide and tearing out a spray of crimson vitae!

Spoiler: Loadout

• Shell Spider Silk Sith Uniform with Synth-Leather Gloves, Boots, and Banded Belt
  
  • Atmosphere Mask
  • Gauntlets
    
    • Gauntlet Comp - R
      
      • Loaded with FAE/S-11 Universal Communication Matrix
  • Utility
    
    • FAE/C-05 Infiltration Suite
    • Fibercord Grappling Hook / Liquid-cable Launcher
    • Aqua Breather
    • Glowrod
    • "PureSucculent" Filtration Straw
    • Energy Capsules
    • Spare Filters
    • Water Canteens
  • Boots
    
    • FAE/A-14 Energized Foot Gear
      
      • Jetboot Thrusters Removed
• Fuchsia Edge (2)

 

[Marcus Dinn]

Chasianna sounded doubtful of his excuse for not getting up close. Marcus tried to smile with confidence, but only looked like he was awkwardly cheesing her.

She scampered off to hit the tuk'ata. Within seconds he sensed the creature's pain as Chasianna cut into its flank. Taking advantage of the distraction, Marcus thrust his dagger into its neck, jamming the blade in as deep as it would go then pulling back to stab it again. In and out, in and out...

The beast was by now mortally wounded, but still had some fight left in it. Swinging its spiny tail, it shook off Mali and writhed, snapping at Chasianna and the floating dagger in vicious desperation.

That was when Marcus sensed an even more malevolent presence close by. "Jen'ari!" he bellowed in warning.

A Sith of old, risen from the dead, was approaching. Suddenly finishing off the tuk'ata didn't matter. "Mali, come!" he commanded.

Mali started to run toward him - but was snatched up mid-sprint by the jaws of the tuk'ata. At the sound of the beelzebork's cries, a blind rage descended over Marcus. He closed the distance in a single leap, lightsaber igniting as he crashed into the beast, roaring and cutting and killing. All the while the Jen'ari came closer...

Chasianna​

 

[Rayth]

Rayth tried to shield his eyes from the harsh sunlight. It was unrelenting. He has to squint just to focus on the ground in front of him.

His master, Darth Reprimar, had been as predictable as ever. The night before he had told Rayth that it was his own station that was at risk. To be the mentor of such a lowly wretch risks his standing in the eyes of his peers. Then he hammered the lesson home by having one of his other apprentices whip him.

His scars healed quickly as long as he was well fed. The lesson was a waste of time. Reprimar had delivered a mortal wound to one of his least favourite apprentices and fed them to Rayth. Failure was not an option.

A smirk tugged at Gavin’s lips as he turned, not to Rayth, but to the audience. Lifting the bone-carved sword high above his head, he called out to them, his voice carrying through the arena with unshakable confidence. “Gavin Vel!” he shouted, a challenge as much as an introduction. “Today, you learn and remember the name!” His voice echoed, bold and unafraid, before he returned his gaze to his opponent.

With the taunt of a smile still lingering, he pointed the sword directly at Rayth, his expression shifting to one of intense focus. “Today, they learn the name, while you earn the scars to remember it by.” The venomous edge in his tone promised no mercy, only pain and the grim certainty that this duel would be unforgettable for both of them.

Looking out between two fingers of his left hand, Rayth watched his enormous opponent call out to the audience. He felt no compulsion to copy him.

He lowered his left hand. He would have to fight on instinct more than his sight. Rayth was still a long way from being a trained swordsman.

He tested the weight of his sword, unfamiliar in his hand. Rayth offered a single nod and darted forwards. His first swing going low for the man's left knee.

 

[Leshanna]

Her slashing strike was true, and she felt the tip of her pelko-sword strike flesh. Her opponent tried to adjust, but he ended up dropping to the ground as well - though far more silently than she had. Grim satisfaction filled the young girl, even as pain and numbness radiated through her freshly injured leg. She was feeling tired now; the exertion, adrenaline, and the pain was finally beginning to take a serious toll on her.

Surely, it had to be the same for her Zabrak opponent too?

She knew the end of their duel was drawing very close for both of them, but there was still some fight left in her, and clearly there was some left in the boy too as he called upon what strength remained and made another swing at her. Lesh saw the strike coming and managed to roll herself out of the way just in time as she heard the blade whack on the stone very close to where her face had been just a moment prior.

Grim determination filled her then; she had to finish this while he was still down. Despite having an all but useless leg that was bleeding freely now from the deep cut on her hip, Leshanna pushed herself up with great effort, her exhaustion evident upon her face. She hobbled unsteadily on her good leg, her sword gripped in her still working but very tired hand.

She summoned what was left of her remaining strength and energy for a blow against his sword arm, seeking to take away his ability to use a blade against her, and thus gain her victory over him, but in doing so she had brought herself well within his own striking range.

“I’m sorry…I can’t lose this fight. If I do, I’m afraid I'll be sold again.” Leshanna said in a pained whisper as she made her strike.

Naamino Zuukamano

​