Passion's Flame, Ambition's Game (OPEN/ATTN: MATSU)

[Alara Slayn]

(This thread is meant to be for Alara and [member="Matsu Xiangu"] to meet up, but feel free to jump in and contribute your own part despite the already pipelined plot. Have fun!)

Korriban, ancient birthplace of the Sith.

The Valley of the Dark Lords lay just beyond the Sith Temple grounds, and even after the planet's chaotic and tumultuous history remained just as dark a hallowed ground as its name suggested. Recent events had seen Korriban's return to its rightful masters, and even now it was as if the Dark Lords danced in their deathly tombs, reveling in the return of the Darkness to its proper mantle - homeworld of that host of tribes that had once lorded over a hundred star systems.

It was no surprise then that, Alara, young and vitalic, should be drawn to this place. The genes of the Ysanna flowed through her veins, as did the Morellian passion for exploration and defiance against boundaries of all sorts. In standard scoundrel's clothes she now lay in the shade of, at least according to what she had read, Ajunta Pall's tomb. The Ancient Sith Lord was supposedly legend for his prowess in dueling, as was his odd honor code of deferring solely to melee combat techniques as opposed to tapping into the more esoteric powers those of his order were renowned for. Sith, they were called, and a force to be reckoned with they were indeed.

As Alara Slayn lay kneeling by the massive tomb door, blaster holstered and datapad in hand as she attempted to decipher the door's archaic markings, etched in stone upon its sand-blased surface. A rancor of a migraine had swept her up in a grimace moments before upon the very sight of the valley, having circumvented her way around the Sith Temple from Dreshdae just to break into the sacred grounds while managing to keep away from the malevolent eyes of the dark overlords watching over this place. On numerous occasions she almost gave in to the incessant neural bombardment, but nevertheless she just gritted her teeth and kept going.

"Here lies.."

The bright, young but brooding delinquent mouthed just under her breath in Sith the ancient glyphs and runes that seemed to mock her. Non-adept, they almost screamed to her as her eyes danced back and forth between the stone doors and her datapad. Every now and then she would also turn her head to the valley behind her, wary of any patrolling Sith or other deplorables on this desolate rock who might not be too happy with a scoundrel of a scholar messing about with hallowed devices before she could properly analyze and explore the tomb, and if possible make away with any trinkets or goodies she could take along with her. It was the thrill of the hunt, but also a dangerous round of hide-and-seek. Passion's flame, ambition's game, she thought to herself - words from her father - an equally adventurous spirit, however misguided in his insistence on the pursuit of pettier, baser devices and artifices.

 

[Matsu Xiangu]

Time had passed since the Silver Jedi had held Korriban in their grasp, perverting its natural dark-side influence with their Light. Her stance on their kind was well-known. She didn’t hate them inherently - they had their place within the order of things, and without their misguided foolishness her beloved Dark Side could not exist. They could be just as strong but they chose to ignore the true breadth of their gift in favor of something like ‘selflessness’. Either way, they had been ejected from their temporary hold by the bold actions of one of their own.

She knew that the Silver who had carpeted Korriban City in bombs, killing dozens of Sith but thousands more innocents, had acted alone. But it behooved her kind to decry the entire Order and undermine their air of benevolence to the galaxy at large. The dozens of propaganda posters plastered all over the city and relative quiet acceptance of the Sith once more was proof of that.

But outside the city, all the politics seemed to be forgotten. It was quiet, peaceful in a way only someone interested in the Dark might find appealing. It was there that Matsu found herself traipsing through the tomb of Ajunta Pall.

Truth be told, the Atrisian Sith Lord had little use for reverence when it came to long-dessicated corpses of some forgotten Sith. Supposedly this Pall had been the very first Dark Lord of the Sith. And look what it had gotten him - some dusty tomb, every deed forgotten in the wake of the hundreds of years to follow him, nothing but a name and a legend. Someday she too would be the same. So she walked the tombs on occasion to remind herself that chasing meaningless titles meant nothing. Life was about pleasing herself and following her own whims above all else.

Perhaps it was that which stopped her from finding immediate offense when she felt a presence not her own - irritated, determined, curious. Someone was ahead of her in the tomb though not far, and it was not a signature she recognized. Making use of her small stature she picked her way forward quietly instead of strolling, her mind roiling outwards to reach for the stranger. Her communication came with the light weight of mental prowess that clamped on to motor function which the stranger could, of course, always break free from or struggle against if they were talented enough. But she’d spent half a lifetime learning to control minds.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve seen someone in these halls,” she said quietly as she rounded the corner, her sea-glass smooth voice carrying the distance. She was dressed in light clothes fit to wick the unbearable heat of Korriban from her skin, fabric draped artfully around her head and hair a la some desert nomad. The scarring that marred her mouth and cheeks was obvious once she drew closer, but the rest of her face was beautiful in the way something poisonous might beckon. She might even have seemed friendly, inviting. A spider hidden far up in the edges of her web. “Find anything interesting?” she asked, amber eyes ticking between the door and the young woman before she released the mental hold on the stranger’s limbs.

[member="Alara Slayn"]​

 

[Alara Slayn]

Frak.

Before she could even move, Alara could feel an odd sensation closing in around here - like an ethereal vice grip that resisted against her every move. It felt light, but it resisted all the same. The immediate reflex to make for her Mandalorian blaster was suddenly dampened, and in surprise her pupils dilated as she resisted the urge to panic. The resisting, invisible ether felt wrapped around her clothing as she struggled to turn her head to look behind her. Before her and calmly approaching - a woman? She seemed to be of a more slender built, but with a sickly pale contour to the skin that suggested some form of corruption in comparison to normal flesh - at least by accounts of what she'd read. Was it a dematological condition? Or perhaps something else?

Deathly glow, oddly beautiful, she mumbled again just under her breath - kind of an analytical mental note spoken out loud as she observed the female's features. She struggled again, this time to her feet as she kept her datapad journal held tightly in her hand; the other already resting on the hilt of her blaster holstered around the back of her utility belt, but only after a light wrestle with the energy that initially barred her movement. It it was information the incognita was after, the notes she'd spent the better part of a year taking would die with her. Petty, but such were the vain trifles of youth.

"It doesn't look like folk pass through the graves of old Sith Lords", Alara replied with cautious reservation. Her eyes kept locked on [member="Matsu Xiangu"] as her deadpan expression masked the growing anxiety felt by the Morellian-Ysanna youngling. Her fair skin and green eyes were warm features upon the near-Human's face, yet only to be permuted into something just as hallow as her stare and the precise brevity of her speech - a casual but sagacious manner of speaking that could enchant as much as entrap. Her blonde-to-red hair was braided behind her head, but in places across her scalp little strands of ginger could be seen sticking out: a gentle, tangled mess of a hairdo.

"Ajunta Pall", she continued, "He's been dead for millennia. If anything of interest was here, it's probably already blown to dust or in the hands of a Hutt." Alara had been referring to artifacts, probably like Pall's old ceremonial swords.

"Bet you already knew that. Casts as much of a mystery as to what brings you here."

It was a brooding cynicism that stemmed from Alara's deeper love of sophisms - she wasn't here for the artifacts. Petty swords wouldn't pique her interest any more than the price tag they'd fetch on the black market. The real lesson to be learned here was the ultimate end of Lord Ajunta Pall - the final destination that rendered all lifeforms equal.

 

[Matsu Xiangu]

Contrary to what might have been expectation, a short huff of laughter - too delicate and graceful to be a snort, but close - escaped her at the girl’s deadpan retort. She did not walk the galaxy demanding that it cower in her presence. In fact, she found it rather boring. When someone finally gave her a bit of a hard time she enjoyed the banter. So few allowed her the brevity.

“Imagine that.”

The majority of the Dark Side’s corruption remained in her eyes, slowly swirling clouds of amber that moved slower or faster depending on her emotions. They were often the only thing that reflected she was even alive at all. They peered over cheekbones cut so sharp they nearly made her look demonic. For the most part the Dark had served to make her appear porcelain, a pallor to her skin that made her seem bloodless and cold like the dead she spent so much of her time creating. That It - beautiful and haunting - clung to the stranger in front of her waiting to be tapped in to was hardly hidden.

How might it corrupt her, so pale and pretty?

Matsu’s passive mentalism suggested the girl wasn’t telling the whole truth, but the Sith Lord let it go. Battles had to be picked. Make her suspicious that Matsu had seen the hidden knife and it would only be harder to find.

“When I’m on Korriban - which thankfully isn’t often,” she said, a thin curl of disgust blanketing through her comment, “I walk some of these old temples to remind myself of all Ajunta Pall’s wasted time.” She turned, running a finger over the runes carved in to stone, each seeming to glow as if begging her to touch them again - though that could have just been an illusion. “Imagine what he could have learned and gotten done if he hadn’t spent all his life telling others how powerful he was. He’s still dead. With just a pretty, forgotten tomb.” Pressing a hand to the stone and feeling the runes hum in response to her power, to the inclination that for once in a century they might do as they were meant to, she shook her head. “That’s not for me.”

Even so, the wall came to life under her touch, rolling backwards with a thunderous rumble before disappearing off to the side. Looking over her shoulder, she gave the girl an expression like ‘coming’?

“You’re right, there’s probably nothing down here but scraps. Maybe a holocron of the man listening to the sound of his own voice. But it might be fun.” She was strange, too many contradictions, the sort of thing unnatural enough to make a mind recoil. “I’m Matsu, by the way. Matsu Xiangu.”

And then she disappeared down the new hall, with or without the stranger.

[member="Alara Slayn"]​

 

[Alara Slayn]

Alara listened carefully and intently to [member="Matsu Xiangu"]. Although young, she knew that more eccentric people who didn't feel the need to posture tended to be the more dangerous of folk in the galaxy. Something was off about the woman. And while she couldn't pinpoint what it was exactly, she just couldn't seem to wrap her head around her sing-song method of speaking, or her seemingly carefree movements. Perhaps something sinister was afoot, but it came packaged so gracefully that anyone would be left in a state of cognitive dissonance.

There was little doubt in the Ysanna's mind that this one before her was a Sith, despite her not having that same, stereotypical hubris that most of her order did. It was refreshing, even interesting, to see one who didn't have those dreadful dark clouds over her head all the time. Even more atypical was her dismissal of no one less but a Sith Lord's ambition, whereas one would assume that a prototypical Sith would be held as the gold standard. I guess everyone's a different story.

"So what is for you, then?", Alara then curiously asked in reply as she watched the Sith Lord walk up to the ancient, stone doors and open them with seemingly nothing but her touch. The youth postulated that the ancient Sith technology was inherently linked to Dark Side energies, but she may as well theorize anything at this point - even she always held the opinion that there would always be things in the galaxy that would elude the light of understanding, if but for the time being, at least. At that point she really didn't have much of a choice but to follow, unless she wished to miss out perhaps on the opportunity of a lifetime. How many scholars got to the inside of a Sith Lord's tomb? The thought was awe-inspiring but equally harrowing.

"Alara. Alara Slayne."

 

[Matsu Xiangu]

There was something in the girl’s eyes astute enough to cut. Matsu had spent her entire life figuring out how to remain unreadable but even still she had the distinct impression this stranger’s mind was puzzling her as much as possible anyway, an animal cunning that the Lord liked. It spoke to an ability to calculate and quietly assess despite the irritation that seethed under the surface.

They traipsed slowly down the passage, Matsu looking out for those traps that might not yet have been triggered by treasure hunters before them. The dust was thick along the edges of the hall, perhaps whirled there by some draft or recent disturbance. The latter seemed less likely if only because the Lord felt nothing besides their twin presences.

So what was for her?

“Me,” she answered simply, stopping to look an enormous, garish carving of some hooded figure writhing in agony. How pedestrian. “A thousand years from now, my name won't impress anyone, just like Ajunta here. The way I see it, I live for me and no one else. Pursue the knowledge I want, explore the places I want, create what I want. And then when I die, just leave me where I land.”

She moved on from the statue. The walls seemed to be growing taller suggesting they were either moving on a subtle downwards slope or towards the center of some inset pyramid.

“If you knew nothing of value was likely to be found here, why come? Are you in the Academy?” she asked, referencing the shuttling of Sith Acolytes through standardized punishment before they were unleashed as endlessly rote cogs in a machine. It would be rather a pity, Matsu thought, to watch this one turned in to another war gear.

[member="Alara Slayn"] | [member="Antherion"]

 

[Ras'kala'han]

His father hadn't began his training on Korriban. No son of Hadram Koroosi would ever die namelessly among a gaggle of slaves and cutthroats. He would rise to the top, naturally, excelling at his studies as if he had done them all before. Because he had. Because they cheated, because it was a formality, because he was a noble and if something wasn't easy then it was desperately wrong and needed fixing. That was father's way - and look where it had gotten him.

Nothing was ever easy.

In spite of that, when his father had looked him in the eye, fresh with the grit and bloodstains of his final trial, he had taken one hand and swept it towards the spires of the Academy - "Welcome home."

Korriban was picked over. Its tombs held nothing. Its inscriptions were bleached of meaning, its graveyards empty of ghosts, its statues were smoothed over by centuries of wear. 'Moraband', 'Pesegam', it was still his home, it was the home of every Sith. Nothing could rid it of the darkness that dwelt close to its heart, always and ever pulsating like a thing alive.

Korriban was the place where your hatred had meaning. Where your anger was real, and had a reason behind it. Where your plot for revenge would come to fruition. Here, your passions weren't in vain. The dead would be your witnesses, your allies, and even the ones who bled out in ditches, far from the sunlight, had become a part of something greater.

So Antherion moved, avoiding leaning against any walls, retracing a path from reverse - his presence suddenly flickering into view of the other Sith like a suddenly sparking candleflame. Once, long ago, he had walked this path that same way to find his way out, the first time he had felt real danger for his life. Then, as it was now, he had still felt like he was floating, unmoored by time and space. His passions had always been empty... still, here he was, full of reverence and silence. A long walk through the veins of a dusty tomb - a kind of meditation, he supposed.

He head voices, approaching, and held himself straight, resting on his walking stick. It seems he wasn't the only one here.

"Muryasa shahkû j'us." he whispered under his breath in the language of the ancient priests of the Sith, waiting for them to round the corner, a smile on his lips. Welcome home. Here, they were family - not a bond of kinship, or kindness. A bond of power. Of blood. Of the Sith.

| [member="Matsu Xiangu"] | [member="Alara Slayn"] |

 

[Alara Slayn]

A realist, to be sure. I can appreciate that.

Alara tread carefully as she stepped into the shade of the tomb's inner corridors, cautiously keeping her guard as [member="Matsu Xiangu"], who was starting to become a de facto guide for her through this ancient tomb, led the two. She kept close to the walls - dozens of expeditions and digs taught her to always keep her bearings. If anything, it was the assumption that this tomb had probably been raided countless times that comforted her - perhaps it wasn't as dangerous as initially expected if grave robbers could simply walk in and take what they please. Or at least, that was the ideal state of things. After all, Korriban was a world of many surprises - nearly none of them pleasant.

"I'm... not... from the academy", she then sheepishly replied, realizing halfway that she'd just busted her own operation. A quick breath to compose herself, and she continued, "I sneaked around the academy from Korriban City.Took a speederbike and simple went through the other end of the valley, and that's how I ended up here."

Her youthful, green eyes scanned the darkness as they slowly went deeper and deeper into Pall's tomb. As the pitch black descended on her vision, she could smell the quick break in the smell of aged quarry.

Ah, someone's here. The prospect was as intriguing as it was disturbing.

[member="Antherion"]

 

[Eugen Aker]

Between assignments, Suravi shed her Jedi cover for some extracurricular activity off the record. She was curious about the current state of the Caldera after the Silver Jedi had withdrawn and abandoned the space to the mercy of the Sith. Aside from the brief landing on Korriban to evacuate Silvers and refugees, it had been a long time since she had last been to the Esstran Sector. Research was an order, and she now had all the time to do it.

Presenting herself as a simple traveler, she moved through Korriban City and the derelict Ranger garrison, pausing every so often to tap her fingers against a wall, or to sweep them across the dusty walkways. In those moments, the quiet scene of the present was replaced by more chaotic ones of recent past battle. Like an immersive hologram, a great and terrible slaughter would play out all around her. Rangers being overrun by spawn fresh and ancient, only to swell the fiends' ranks upon their deaths. Jedi clashing with Sith in furious duels of mortal combat. Entire buildings blocks being vaporized by rains of bombs and turbolasers.

Each vision came with its own flood of emotions. She experienced their fear, anger, joy and everything in between. There was a strong undercurrent of hunger, as the spawn were so intertwined with events from each psychometric reading. Their hunger became her own, and there were a few times she left a vision with a brief hankering for fleshy chunks out of one of the residents milling about. That or a succulent Apokkan drumroll. Bendu how she missed Apokka.

With the skill of a surgeon, she cut through the emotional clutter to find the true prize. All the small things left behind by the masterminds of this massacre. Valuable snippets of information to be internalized for more in-depth study later.

The first leg of her trip was complete. Moving on, she acquired a speeder bike for the short ride to the Valley of the Sith Lords. It was time to pay her respects.

[member="Alara Slayn"] [member="Antherion"] [member="Matsu Xiangu"]

 

[Matsu Xiangu]

She imagined a colleague might have turned then, questioned what right Alara had to walk among dust and memories. Instead, the edges of Matsu’s scarred mouth turned up in a smile.

“Good. Stay out of there. They standardize and dilute talent. I’d hate to know what they’ve destroyed,” she said of the Academy. There was nothing more terrible to her than stifling curiosity, the pursuit of something new. Innovation only came from those free from the shackles of convention - and what faster way to chain someone then tell them the 'proper' way to do something?

She wasn’t about to ask why the girl stayed if nothing of obvious import kept her interested in the tomb itself. Force knew how many times she’d found herself delving in to unknown territory simply to see what there was to see.

The newcomer around the corner was utterly silent and if it had not been for Matsu’s passive mentalism she might have missed him entirely. But instead she felt something nebulous just as they both rounded the bend and in its place was a tall, pale creature that spoke to her in High Sith. Though she didn’t necessarily respect the paragons of her kind, sorcery was a gift given at birth and learning Sith had been a requirement for understanding its ancient texts.

“Falykajin.” Questionable. “Seems the temple is exceptionally busy today.” She found that coicidences existed but were rarely the answer. And he’d already been within the temple.

Something rumbled, a sound that might have been monstrous had the trio been standing close to it.
Busy, indeed.
For the moment she paid it no mind. The place was ancient. Any number of stone pieces could have fallen.
But still - she was wary.

“Which one of you can tell me what that inscription says?” she asked quietly by way of conversation, extending with her hand to the enormous stonescape depicting a moment in Ajunta Pall’s no doubt illustrious life. But which one?

[member="Alara Slayn"] | [member="Antherion"] | [member="Suravi Teigra"]​

 

[Ras'kala'han]

Concern was a natural reaction, and it touched every crossing of paths amongst the Sith. Antherion was likewise concerned - not by the one woman, [member="Alara Slayn"], who seemed his equal in raw strength - if not knowledge, but someone with such burning, curious eyes would no doubt race quickly to catch up - but the other. [member="Matsu Xiangu"] hid her presence well, but that did little to hide the unsubtle cue of her still gaze: He felt like an insect on a slide in front of her. She was a being of pure power.

"Happily, madame." He slipped easily into glowing formalities and Galactic Basic, for the sake. His sight pierced the darkness as he stepped forwards, a walking stick making a sharp clack against the stone tiles. He swept his gaze over it.

"Interesting - It tells the story of his death. He died of a 'sudden illness', which has 'poison' written all over it - he was a Sith, after all. But they refused to believe that their beloved god could die. He was deemed to have abandoned his physical body to watch over the people of Korriban in the world of spirits. His tomb was filled with artifacts of his life, and deemed off limits to all - I'm guessing that it didn't take long for his peers to rob the most powerful objects, but some remained until it was picked clean over millennia."

He let out a weighty sigh, turning back to his senior. "Almost sad, you know? Or maybe 'precious' is the word I should use. They put him so high up on a pedestal that they couldn't believe that he could fall."

| [member="Suravi Teigra"] |

 

[Eugen Aker]

Then:

The sleeping kings had awoken, Torah noted as she took the long steps up to Sadow’s tomb. She could feel the specters of the dead brushing against the edge of her mind, leaving her with a chilling sensation.

Among these faint echoes of darkness, she felt several more substantial signatures of the living within. They were waiting for her as she came up the last of the steps into the opening of the tomb, neat lines of Sith troopers and hooded Acolytes. The collective hostility and disgust directed her way as she came into view was almost palpable, but they all stayed their hands, knowing better than to defy the will of their master.

She passed them without incident, though she walked with both hilts in hand as a warning. She had no problem getting froggy on her way toward Apophis. The low level goons would be nothing more than than a warm up for her.

Deeper into the tomb, and the chill grew worse. She didn’t like this one bit, but it had to be this way.

She locked onto one particularly powerful signature she figured to be Apophis, using it as a guide to navigate through the maze of tunnels. She was cautious in her trek, on the lookout for traps that may still be active even after all this time.

Finally, she came to a large open chamber, where she found Apophis sitting pretty upon a large stone thrown at its center in full armor, while his greatsword was staked through the stone floor next to the throne. His visor was open, so she could see his red and gold splotched eyes glittering from the corruption of the Dark Side, smirking as she entered. She stopped a few meters past the door, hands hanging loosely against her sides, but the grip on her hilts were quite tight.

“Only one Jedi? I’m quite insulted. I thought my name still meant something.”

“No one else will die for you, I’ll see to that.”

“A most noble gesture, General, but a foolish one at that. Just like a Jedi.”

“This ‘Jedi’ has a fleet in orbit ready to lay this whole damn rock to waste.”

The Sith smiled at that revelation, because he could see it in her steely expression that she wasn’t throwing out idle threats.

“Such ruthlessness, but I’d expect nothing less from a butcher like you. What a fine Sith you would make.”

Torah didn’t answer, just flipping on her lightsabers with swipe of her thumbs over the pearly enamel hilts, spewing brilliant flares of jade. The doors behind her rumbled back closed, then sealed shut with a loud click. Under her own power, the doors weren’t coming open again without her command, or death.

Apophis’ grin just grew larger before he dropped the visor of his helmet in place, then took hold of his greatsword as he stood, its black blade of alchemized alloy gleaming with a red sheen under his touch.

There was the moment where she felt a great well of power within the Sith, then there was an audible crack as he launched himself at her at insane speed. In an instant, he had cleared 30 meters from the throne to her position.

She flipped sideways to the left as he came in with a cleave of his sword, creating an even louder thunderclap as his blade split the air, wind whistling outward in all directions. The hurricane, some had called him. With great and terrible blows like those, he had been known to cut down multiple opponents in a single strike. That was one of the reasons she had decided to face him alone. Others with her would have just created a dangerous liability.

As she came to face him while still in rotation, she extended one arm to rake his neck from her elevated position. He ducked down on a knee, then batted her away as he took one gauntlet off his hilt to pummel her with a gale of raw Force energy.

With a grunt, she took the hit, but it gave her an opening to launch an attack, one focused bolt of Force energy fired from her left heel into his back.

Apophis would be slammed face first into the ground while she tumbled down across the floor in a violent slide. Neither would be down for long, quickly righting themselves for the next exchange.

The Sith Lord wasn’t smiling anymore. If it hadn’t been for his armor, then that blow of hers would have broken his back. That fact gave him pause as he tried working out the numbness with some flexing. Glancing down, he could see where the stone had cracked from his impact.

Torah didn’t wait for him to attack again as he sized her up as a credible threat. She went on the offensive, skipping across the floor like a hare in a dizzying zig-zag pattern to confuse her foe as she came within striking distance.

Apophis took a guard stance, taken aback by her aggression. Not many Jedi were brave enough enough to face him in such a manner.

On her last skip, she came him from the side, trying to get under the long reach of his greatsword as she lunged at his right flank. He skipped back out of reach as he swung his blade downward over her head, but she parried it with her second lightsaber while jutting the elbow of her primary arm forward to hit him with another blast of Force energy into the gut.

He took the full force of the blow, sliding several meters across the floor with a loud screech of metal soles against stone. Again, without his armor, that strike would have likely burst some organs.

Unlike in the first exchange, she gave him no time to recover, flitting around the Sith Lord with frenzied blows that kept him on the defensive as she appeared to strike at every angle. She didn’t look to land any big hit hits against him, but rather wear him down with small blows here and there, aiming for gaps in the armor by blade and Force with deadly precision.

The Jedi was patient, perfectly fine with whittling down the Sith Lord into nothing with a thousand cuts. That’s about as much as he deserved for his crimes, one steady torturous onslaught to break him in both body and spirit. Wrongly, he had believed the tomb to be his sanctuary, but in fact it would be his grave.

((I'm just using this opportunity to write about Suravi's past, been feeling inspired. If y'all are still hanging around in the present, I'll stop by for a chat in my next post.))

[member="Matsu Xiangu"] [member="Antherion"] [member="Alara Slayn"]