Faction Recovery and Reward

[Aspect of Defiance]

Susevfi had not gone according to plan. Quinn Varanin had been sent to the former Capital of the Rimward Trade League in order to bring it under the control of the Sith Order. Her presence caused a rebellion which had brought the entire Second Legion to bear. The action had also summoned the likes of Darth Carnifex , Darth Malum of House Marr , and the Empress Srina Talon herself. They had brought the wrath of the entire Order to bear on the planet.

Her rescue had not been easy, nor swift, but it had been final. It ended with the subjugation of the world, the inevitable outcome regardless of what method they had tried. Some time was required for the Echani princess to recover, but upon recovery, she called together all those who had aided in her rescue and recovery. For the moment, she would remain on the Mors Mon. It was from there she would offer a celebration and ceremony to give awards to those who put forward a valiant effort.

It was her prerogative as a princess and noble from Eshan.

A lone hangar bay had been converted for the event. It was made over to every whim and wish which the Echani had demanded. The vast space was draped in contrasting hues of silver and crimson with sleek metallic accents and flowing fabrics reflecting the Echani's refined taste. Overhead lights cast dramatic shadows blending the sophistication of the Echani with the ominous aura of the Sith.

Music filled the room as the event began. It was a hauntingly beautiful blend of Echani string melodies and deep Sith choral chants which created an ambiance both enchanting and foreboding. Guests were clad in attire that reflected their respective cultures and moved through the hangar. The ceremony itself was precise and deliberate, with each honoree stepping forward to receive their accolade from the recovered princess herself.

 

[Trayze Tesar]

CURRENT MISSION - Warhorse's Respite
Immediate Goals -
1: Stand there
1.1: Look Pretty
1.2: Stand there while looking pretty
1.3: Don't fall over while standing there and looking pretty.

BLUFOR - Darth Malum of House Marr

OPFOR - Enemy Unknown

TARGETING ACTION(S) - OPEN FREQUENCY

---

A few weeks in the bacta tank. That was all he remembered after rushing the Princess to Mors Mons, pushing his body to the absolute limit, channeling the will of the Dread Empress and her daughter's soul back into her body - all while still recovering from the Susevfi rebels frankly inordinate amount of anti-Force ordinance launched at his personage. He didn't even remember passing out, after being oddly protective and insistent on fretting on the Princess' revitalized form like a half drunken, three legged mother hen, refusing to leave his "post" or forsake his duty until the transfer to more professional medics, and the dismissal from the Empress of Jutrand. He must've gotten nine paces before he felt the cold of the floor, before the intermittent rehabilitation from the medical facilities.

Trayze Tesar, detective turned acolyte turned Fleet Captain Under Marque turned unsung and maddeningly stubborn resuscitator of princesses; could now move more than nine paces - albeit rather slowly. He was tempted to utilize the cane that was gifted to him in case of injuries such as these, but with his arm still in a sling, it would have been far too many things to juggle. Instinctively, he flexed the slightly roasted appendage, which defied the Force nullification at bodily cost, and was then used as a conduit to pulse the Force back into the Force-born princess... there was a dull, ingrown-nail-but-plucked-through-your-equally-ingrown-hair sensation that indicated that though his nerves and physiologically he was cleared to attend, the Force still needed to settle into his body.

Glancing about, he found himself fashionably early for once, rather than half-a-pace behind like the pitched battle he had been in not too long ago. He was here for two things, to get the pleasantries out of the way, give whoever was the genius who fired an EMP wave while friendly boots were on the ground a piece of his mind, and to no doubt fade into background once again. He had been bold to the Empress once, he would not dare to overstep his boundaries anytime soon... besides, the real heroine was the masked Darth who found Quinn dressed up as a rebel under duress - she was the real star of the show, and he just helped get them back home.

Let the princess dance with her masked lady knight, he would no doubt be the leal workhorse in the background, unnoticed and unremembered, but ensuring that the job got done - and he was content with that... right?

 

[Lirka Ka]

Tags: Trayze Tesar (and anyone else who would like to interact)

Parties weren't exactly Lirka's style anymore, a different life she had adored the chance to drink herself half to death and be jolly with her fellows: but that was decades ago, and she was a new sinister beast now. That didn't stop her from attending this one though, after the whole mess at Susevfi and the chaos she had missed much of the juiciest action it felt pertinent to make an appearance and make chummy with everyone as best as she could muster. She had even made the effort to look nice! Truly a rarity in these trying times, though not like it meant much. A new coat of polish on her powersuit and a sash of fine cloth emblazoned with the symbol of the Kainite were plenty in her mind.

Her plans for supposed-kindness went astray remarkably quickly as she arrived. Emerald eye lenses fell upon Trayze Tesar and well, Lirka's worst impulses took over. Oh this was going to be fun. Metal boots clanking against the floor of the Mors Mon, she approached with nothing resembling subtly.

"My, my, my..."

Her thick accent rung, humming out of her helmet: she had decided against distortion today.

"...Is that who I think it is? My dearest savior Fleet-Captain-Under-Marque Tesar."

She approached, arms wide in greeting. Her voice oozed the taunting of their last meeting once again. Truly there was no better treat Lirka could have asked for, true amusement. In comparison to him, Lirka looked all but unblemished: who knew what dark things she had gotten up to without prying eyes. And she made sure to point out that fact all but immediately.

"You look horrible."

Oh yes, this was going to be very, very, fun.

 

[Credius Nargath]

TAG: Darth Imperius | OPEN

Nothing had gone to plan, not even the plan itself had been a plan. The whole ordeal with Susevfi just further cemented the Lord of Hunger's thoughts on the Empire's internal workings. Sending some princess to handle a transition of power, allowing said princess to be captured by ignorant, rogue elements and then when the full might of the empire is beating down on the very rebellion that has been fueled by these mistakes, they allow these rebels to be given the greatest mercy of all: death, where it would have been more profitable and more useful for these dissidents to find themselves in labor camps or as test subjects for the Scientific sphere of the Order, heck...even as target practice for the students on Korriban or Jutrand.

While those who were blinded by the whole usual majesty of those in charge of the Empire seemed to enjoy themselves and continue their ignorant acts, Credius knew that this one rebellion and this one chain of bad decisions and faulty outcomes had clearly shown just how rotten and defunct the Order was becoming. There was little to no logic in the way the Empire ran things, leaving too many things to chance or in the hands of incompetent reprobates that even when they had shown failure time and time again, still were allowed to continue making those mistakes. Incompetent bureaucrats, lazy governors and ignorant Sith...

There were some whispers of a new faction rising within the ranks of the sith and with that news came yet again the hope that said faction would turn the empire's failings around or rather, the failings of the Sith in general. However, the Lord of Hunger had a healthy degree of scepticism against any and all new things promising great changes...after all, most of the failed and flawed factions that now fractured the very Sith Order itself had started out with the same promises and on the same premise.

"Fools...having a party and an honor service to celebrate what essentially was their fault to begin with," Credius let out a deep sigh as he watched how several people were called to the fore and being bestowed honours for the sake of rescueing a child whose survival or death would not have made any change to the Sith Order as a whole...at least in the Lord of Hunger's own opinion. "I reckon time will tell whether or not we have used our resources properly or have squandered them for the sake of ignorance."

 

[Darth Imperius]

Mors Mon | Hangar

• Objective: Stay Diplomatic
• Tags:
  • Allied: Credius Nargath | Darth Callidus
  • Adversary: N/A
• Theme: TBD

A celebration? An award ceremony? On the flagship of the Empire that is supposed to bring fear and death to the enemies of the Sith Empire by using it's vast size and resources? He may have just entered the stage of the political plane of the Sith Order, but this seemed excessively nonsensical. Bringing the Mors Mon to the planet was a harsh, impulsive reaction that send a twofold message. The lesser message was that rebellions would be punished, in the most brutal way - but who doubted that? Only weakness can raise doubt, only mercy can leave a chance for hope to spread it's venomous roots and infest the hearts and minds of lesser beings. But the more important message it sent was, there was a hierarchy of personal relationships, favors and intimate connections that reached as high as the throne, that the Empress, Srina Talon , would muster the largest war asset of the entire Sith Empire, to save a failed governor.

Darth Imperius had travelled to the Mors Mon after the order had been given to eradicate everyone in the city, leaving little reason to continue his plan with forcing the rioters into submission through cruelly brutalizing those that did not join the rebellion. It mattered not. He came here in expectation to witness punishment. To see that incompetence, inability and idiocy had no place in the Eleventh Sith Empire. He did not expect this. And nothing could have prepared him for it.

Dressed in his armor, though the helmet clipped to his belt, he observed the 'ceremony' from the side. The black eyes staring, soulless, apathetic and maybe even a hint of disapproval. It was a welcome feeling to be connected to the Dark side again, but it also fueled his perpetual wrath. It was a misery that stood in stark contrast to the Sith Code. From behind crossed arms, the tall figure listened to the Lord of Hunger, Darth Halcyon.

"The few droids lost are meaningless, paling in comparison of the tragedy to elevate weakness and bind assets for a cause as hollow and unnecessary as this."

"It will be curious to see who the great heroes of this battle are, who will receive a blessing of this princess. Each of them should carry a whip to flog their benefactor."

Equipment
| Lightsaber | Greatsword | Armor | Amulet | Shuttle |​

 

[Darth Callidus]

Tags: Darth Imperius Credius Nargath

Darth Callidus stood in the shadows, her presence a subtle yet undeniable force on the fringes of the celebration. Draped in black and crimson, her amber eyes flickered beneath the hood of her cloak, watching the ceremony with quiet intensity. She neither approached the center of the event nor withdrew entirely, choosing to remain near the figures of Darth Imperius and Darth Halcyon. Their quiet disapproval resonated with her own thoughts, though she kept her criticisms veiled, measured, and precise.

Her voice emerged as a low murmur, audible only to those closest. "A spectacle of this nature… It has its purpose, though I struggle to see its justification here." Her tone was even, betraying none of the sharper disdain she felt. "Recognition is a tool—a blade best wielded with precision. But here? It is dulled by excess. Resources spent, egos inflated, and yet the lesson we should draw from Susevfi remains buried beneath ceremony."

Her gaze lingered on the princess at the heart of the gathering, and for a fleeting moment, a faint smile—more a shadow of amusement—touched her lips. "A curious choice of venue," she added, her words laced with irony. "The Mors Mon, a symbol of Imperial might, now draped in finery to honor a rescue born of poor judgment. It would seem appearances outweigh prudence."

She turned slightly toward Darth Halcyon, acknowledging his earlier comment with the faintest incline of her head. "You are not wrong, Lord Halcyon. The resources spent here might have been more profitably directed elsewhere. Labor camps, scientific experimentation, even the unforgiving hands of our academies—all would leave a more enduring mark than mere eradication. Yet we should not dismiss the value of perception. To inspire loyalty, fear must be tempered with an understanding that the Sith reward as well as punish. Even if the reward is... ill-conceived."

Her eyes then shifted to Darth Imperius, her voice dropping further, almost conspiratorial. "Your expectation of punishment was not unwarranted. Discipline should follow failure as surely as the tides follow the moon. Yet this display tells another story. A story of favors, of hierarchies beyond merit. It may serve to sow quiet doubt rather than loyalty, even among those who see themselves as untouched by weakness."

For a brief moment, her attention returned to the ceremony, her expression unreadable. "Still," she said, her tone softening to a calculated neutrality, "this is a lesson for us as much as for them. The Sith Order thrives not on unbridled power but on control. And control is a delicate balance. We must ensure that balance is not disrupted—not by weakness, not by excess."

Darth Callidus remained in her place, near Halcyon and Imperius, her movements and words deliberate. She had no need to dominate the conversation or the space; her presence, reserved and calculating, was statement enough. Whatever disapproval or disdain she harbored was masked beneath the guise of quiet observation, each word and gesture crafted to conceal as much as it revealed. To her, this event was less a celebration and more a study in the politics and flaws of the Order she served. And she intended to take careful note of both.

 

[Alina Tremiru]

She just needed to see if she was truly okay.

That was the thought that played through Alina's mind. She needed to make sure Quinn was in fact not dead. See the blonde with her own eyes. The party, the awards, whatever else this was, didn't matter. The only thing she cared about was that Quinn was ultimately alright. She'd fade into the crowd, be away from the stage and ultiamtely away from the Princess's new group of friends and lovers, but she had to at least see that Quinn was in fact not dead.

It had her antsy, almost. Idly rapping her claws on the glass she carried. Everything else about her was calm, but she couldn't hide that nervous tick.

 

[Quinn Varanin]

//: Open //:
//: Alina Tremiru //:
//: Mors Mon //:
//: Attire //:

It was a celebration. One that was meant to celebrate her safe return, the valiant efforts of the Empire, and bringing Susevfi to its knees. Her conversations with the Wolf slowly came back to the Princess. His words were filled with wisdom and belief that she would be something great in the Empire. He was to be her mentor, and the man fulfilled it that day, even when she failed. Quinn sometimes wondered if it was calculated. Was she destined to fail so that she could rise and become something more significant? Was this mission doomed so that she could learn her place in the Second Legion? Too many questions swirled her mind as her hands caressed the cool metal of the medals to be given.

Would they still be celebrating if her foolishness didn't force the full wrath of the Empire to act?

Quinn smiled at the man showing her the awards. Her nod dismissed him as she stood at the front and center of the small aisle that had been put together for the ceremony. Everything had to go right; she had caused enough problems for everyone here to last her a lifetime.

She had to face them, the weight of their expectations pressed against her shoulders. Ever since the words of the Empress rang through the skies of Susevfi, the young Echani felt destiny's mantle upon her back. Why now when she had failed so spectacularly? To bear the burden set upon her by being claimed as the Empress's own was something she had not expected. Still, hearing the proclamation made her believe in the words she had told her kidnappers.

Her mind flickered quietly through the fragmented memory. Slowly, her nightmares pierced together the terror she had experienced. "Your Grace," a voice pulled her from the muted visions, "Are you okay?" he asked, handing her a small handkerchief from his pocket. "Oh?" she responded; the guard gently patted her cheek. "Everything will be okay." His voice brought reassurance; he had been with her since she had arrived permanently on Jutrand and, before that, had been a close guard on Eshan. "Thank you," she spoke quietly, trying to blink away any other unwanted tears and the image of her tormentor. The man turned away, leaving the woman to the rest of her thoughts.

Quinn had been in her own world, the rest of the hanger fading away while she tended to things. The shuffling of feet and the whispers among the crowd fell upon the deaf ears of the emphatic woman. She could feel it, their disdain for what was occurring. Their thoughts and feelings flowed off them like the rivers of lava on Mustafar. Already, her heart was torn with what others had to do to save her, to make up for the mistakes of her youth and hubris. Over and over again, she had played out what had happened, trying to pinpoint the exact moment she failed. It had already been shown to her that the Princess had failed the moment she stepped onto the moon's surface. While her life meant nothing to most of the Empire, it meant the most to the Empress. Her capture and death had proven that - even now, the declaration of her lineage made her something to the Empire, politically in the least. Quinn exhaled the growing crowd's emotions from her mind; focusing on it would only crush her already smothered ego.

Finally, her eyes gazed upon the gathering. Faces she had seen before, others she had not been acquainted with. The looks on their faces only reminded her of the swell of disappointment from earlier. Her eyes fell on faces that brought the Princess joy; their faces made the horrid feelings fade, allowing her to enjoy the spectacle momentarily. In the crowd, her gaze caught the blonde crown of a woman who had experienced more than a lifetime with her.

Stepping down from the small ledge of the stage, Quinn moved gracefully through the crowd. "Alina!" she called to the woman, waving a hand and spreading a smile across her face. To see Alina here made her feel safe. "How are you?"

She asked as she reached the woman, hoping to prevent her from fading into the shadows like Alina often did. "It's good to see you," she said.

Spoiler

Kaila Irons Darth Malum of House Marr Srina Talon Darth Imperius Credius Nargath Darth Callidus Trayze Tesar Lirka Ka Gerwald Lechner Orion Pavond

 

[Trayze Tesar]

CURRENT MISSION - Warhorse's Respite
Immediate Goals -
1: Stand there
1.1: Look Pretty
1.2: Stand there while looking pretty
1.3: Don't fall over while standing there and looking pretty.

BLUFOR - Darth Malum of House Marr

OPFOR - Lirka Ka

TARGETING ACTION(S) - Lirka Ka || OPEN FREQUENCY

---

Kark.

He had met the General before, albeit under mutually disdainful circumstances. The two could not be more different, where Lirka swung her arms wide, a mocking politeness upon her thick accent. Trayze, in kind, snapped quickly, rigidly, his face giving only the barest expression of genuine courtesy - the barest that could be given. As she approached, Trayze realised with genuine disappointment that she didn't even couch her words in the banter like fashion of their last meeting. On one hand, he was gladdened, this dance of politicking annoyed him to no end, but seriously? Attacking him directly, so openly?

All right then.

"General Ka." Came the response, a neutral tone behind a mirthless smile, readying his banter in turn. If nothing else, it will entertain him. "Are you here to show off your new coat of polish? Or perhaps you may need me to give you a tow again?" he concluded with a slight show of teeth beneath lips.

 

[Darth Meritum]

Tag | Open​

​

He hadn't been in his position long. A few days at most, and word of his appointment had likely only filtered into the ears of those listening - especially around the news of what happened on Susevfi. While the Emperor was busy with this or that, Darth Meritum had been tasked with being his eyes and voice in the time to come - to allow the Emperor to be more places than one. No doubt, he would have to introduce himself with the leading figures that be.​

​

The Dread Empress, Srina Talon .​

The Butcher King, Darth Carnifex .​

The Wolf, Gerwald Lechner .
The Betrayer, Taeli Raaf .
The Viper, Darth Malum of House Marr .​

​

He was not mistaken that each had been apprised of his appointment, either directly or through their own spy networks. His position was a direct threat to the Dark Council - especially given that he was not on it. Walking around with the authority of the Emperor might give him overt authority, but he was only a messenger, no matter what 'authority' came with it. Unlike the Emperor, he wasn't an undead monstrosity moonlighting as a God.​

​

So he would simply have to make do. Win friends, work with who he could. Stop someone from putting a knife between his ribs. He'd survived Empires before, he didn't see it fitting this would be the one that would see him die. With that in mind, the Voice of the Emperor walked into the gathering, allowing the music to wash over him and glance around.​

​

A few noticed him, most did not. It was best he enjoy the anonymity while it lasted.​

 

[Lirka Ka]

It was their stark difference that drew Lirka to Trayze Tesar like a moth to a flame, there was joy to be found in taunting someone so firmly opposed to every ideal that Lirka held dear. Besides, he was polite enough that she knew there was little need to expect violence. He had his chance at assassination and had forsaken it.

Lirka was glad to wear a mask sometimes, it helped to hide the grin growing underneath the blank face.

“Do you like it? It seemed a suitable occasion to give myself a few touch ups…”

Something came out of her helmet, perhaps a mechanized chuckle.

“Then again…I suppose we learned you have a taste for things old and rugged in my Study, didn’t we, dear Captain?”

Sometimes, Lirka didn’t need a knife to try and get under the skin.

 

[Trayze Tesar]

CURRENT MISSION - Warhorse's Respite
Immediate Goals -
1: Stand there
1.1: Look Pretty
1.2: Stand there while looking pretty
1.3: Don't fall over while standing there and looking pretty.

BLUFOR - Darth Malum of House Marr

OPFOR - Lirka Ka

TARGETING ACTION(S) - Lirka Ka || OPEN FREQUENCY

---

Being a Detective meant he didn't need to see General Ka's face to know that she no doubt had a shit-eating grin, this in conjunction with the remark she had made resulted in a slightest bit of twitch on his eyebrow. However, if the General was hoping for an easy rile up, she was sorely mistaken.

"Suppose we did." He answered with almost a resigned shrug, an exhale two paces shy of a sigh. "I can't help but be fond of that which is reliable, no matter how beaten up something is..." he answered electric emerald irises with his bold burgundy. "Shame then I've yet to see that tonight."

Not quite a riposte, but the scalpel will not so easily find purchase in his skin.

"Come for the free drinks, or to congratulate a mutual acquaintance on the rescue?" While he loathed the dance of politicking, the dance of subterfuge was necessary in the life of an investigator, with the sway of sarcasm hiding well placed inquiries. He didn't want any of the Susefvi rebels - despite their defiance - to be in the "tender mercies" of the thing before him.

"Or... perhaps you've come all this way for me?" he added, innocently enough, though he was early, and she was the first to seek him out. Perhaps their mutual employer, the Butcher King, had his own designs? But quickly, douse the awkwardness of the question. "I mean, since you suggested that my appearance could use improvement, surely you must be fashion forward?" For all the disrespect Trayze had for the elf-like creature, he respected that she, at times, was as frank and spartan as he was.

 

[Alina Tremiru]

Eh?

Alina had kept her distance, mostly keeping to the side. Amongst the crowd even to give Quinn space with the others she'd chosen. And yet, here the princess was, trying to wave down Alina as the crowd parted. She was taken back only for a moment more before a faint smile took over her features. Quinn was indeed alive, looking as if she hadn't been harmed at all.

The brief surprise fell to a calmer smile as Alina shrugged her shoulders. "Well enough. It's good to see you in one piece."

Quinn Varanin

 

[Credius Nargath]

TAG: Darth Imperius | Darth Callidus | Quinn Varanin | Srina Talon | Gerwald Lechner | Kaila Irons

With his masked face slowly turning towards Imperius, Credius chuckled ever so softly with his hollow, strangely metallic voice. It was clear that the no doubt soon to be governor of Karfeddion and powerhouse of Zakuul openly voiced quite a few of the grievances the Lord of Hunger had felt within himself towards this whole charade. However, unlike Imperius, the abomination within the force thought it best to avoid openly voicing his opinions, especially considering he knew that while powerful, Credius was still to incomplete to be capable of standing against the full might of the dark council.

Still, if there were ways to gather strength with individuals who followed a similar mindset, a thought that power should be concentrated, but not through nepotism. Power had to be in the hands of those who could actually wield it, focus and steer it correctly. The empire as it was now, seemed to lack efficiency, was bloated with nepotism in the form of the Talon and Zambrano families having spread their spawn willy nilly like an insurmountable web across the reach of the realm. Even the useless ones tended to manage getting positions that would have made more sense if they'd been in the hands of actual competent people.

"It's rather...amusing, so much pomp and fanfare," The words slithered out of the Lord of Hunger's mouth, tuned and turned into his strangely hollow, metallic voice due to the voicebox. "well not the pomp and fanfare itself...no, I despise this atmosphere, especially for what it represents: a celebration over an utter failure."

Turning his attention aside, the Lord of Hunger gave a courteous nod towards Darth Callidus, acknowledging her presence and her clarity of mind to not fall for the charade this celebration turned out to be.

"The pendulum has already swung too far into the wrong direction, Lady Callidus," The monstrous man let out a deep sigh, audibly expressing both his disappointment and disgust towards this ill-founded celebration. "When this empire would have had any common sense, any failure costing the Empire resources and manpower better suited elsewhere, would have been executed or at the least severely punished...but nowadays... those who have been born in the correct family, no matter their...'competence' would find themselves void of any and all accountability."

Nodding slowly, his head rocking from left to right, Credius clearly indicated his disagreements with this whole shameful display of misplaced honors. "We are losing the logic... and as we lose our logic, we give in to unbridled passion, excess and... selfsabotage."

 

[Lirka Ka]

All it took was that quickest twitch of his brow for Lirka to feel the elation of a job well done. She loved a good party. A perfect little dance back and forth, and the wondrous chance to do her favorite thing: be an annoyance to someone she knew she could get away with it.

Lirka wouldn’t even disagree with him, she was anything but reliable. But…such was the nature of being a survivor in this harsh galaxy. Appearances needed to be upheld though, and she made an exaggerated gesture of distress, sarcasm oozing through her voice.

“Oh Trayze Tesar , you wound an old woman’s heart!”

As if she had a heart left to be wounded.

“Unfortunately, my dear Captain, I have a few too many livers for the drinks to be much fun. But congratulate you? How could I not? There’s quite the rumblings of you being quite the hero, of both the Empire and the Kainite, I’ve already fed a thousand laborers to the boundless hunger of the Kainite machine thanks to you.”

She took a step forward, leaning down so they could be at eye level with each other.

“Oh Captain, I’d travel the Galaxy for the chance at us talking again.”

Her words hummed out, a razor’s edge to them. Perhaps from a different person they may have been sweet. But from Lirka? They leaked venom.

Going back to her haughty stance, Lirka let out a fake laugh, feigning insult.

“I’m a Sephi, Captain. We’re all fashionable. I just happen to appreciate the beauty of durasteel over the dullness of silk. Perhaps that would be more obvious if I was your age again.”

A lifetime ago. Quite literally.

 

[Darth Carnifex]

In the shadows above the hangar, standing upon one of the many gangways that crisscrossed from one end of the bay to the other, was the Butcher King. Heavy cloak hung down from broad shoulders, pooling on the metal grating at His feet. He watched the procession down below with cold, calculating eyes. Hands clasped at His back, He stood motionless and unblinking for many long moments as He drank in the appearance of all in attendance.

Behind Him were four representatives of the Sepulchral priesthood, each more horrific than the last; twisted and skeletal lich-like things fancied with the vestments of the Kissai. Some wore masks to hide their malnourished nature, but others did little to hide their monstrous forms. They stood in a semi-circle, each one as silent and still as the grave.

In parts, they feared, revered, and hated the Butcher King. By His hand, had the Sepulchral been made to serve His will. In one stroke, He'd brought about the destruction of the priesthood's prior leadership, what had been known to the Sith anyways. In their absence, the Dark Lord quickly took hold. Now they served Him, they respected His might and guile. He turned their existing network of priests into a tool to reshape the Empire, guiding the Sith towards a new destiny; one different than that which the Sepulchral had been cultivating.

"When this night has come to an end," the Dark Lord's voice whispered like a hateful hiss into the priest's ears, their attention now fully enraptured. "You will go out amongst those that had gathered, the Sepulchral must be present in the court of all these Sith. I hear their words in the shadows, for the shadows obey only me." Down below, the faint grin of the Dark Lord's familiar lurked in the shadow of every Sith present; listening and recounting every word back to her master.

"We obey, Great Voice." The four spoke in unison, a great ravenous croak.

 

[Nanmen Ma]

The Ambitionless Magistrate

To share the same space as the Dark Lords is regarded as a privilege by many in the Sith Empire, as the temptation of power and influence is often unattainable for those who can't tap into the mystical energies of the Force, which is said to emanate from all living beings, according to accounts from hermits and Sith who have lost favor.

He had no interest in verifying such claims, as engaging in such questions was not befitting of his rank; he was simply a modest functionary offering economic counsel and recommendations to those who sought it such as Guildmaster Loryn Praji .

Her approach to economic matters was unyielding, as she sought to acquire wealth without reinvesting it to foster prosperity for all citizens.

Even if such prosperity was unevenly distributed, it was the semblance of fairness that would ensure the Sith's power over the corporate sector. This sector had suffered due to the Sith's prioritization of state-controlled trading guilds who operated effectively for a time leading up to the Sith and Alliance war but had quickly become obsolete in favor of the megcorporations.

"The Eleventh Sith Empire, a marvel of ideological construction but supported by weak foundations that could be exploited by the right individual. Though who has the influence to do so, not the Tsis'kaar and not the Twice-Emperor's servants at this stage in the Great Game" Nanmen spoke in a near whisper as colleagues walked by in silence, their heads bowed in a mixture of respect and fear towards the Dark Lords of the Sith assembled in celebration.

It was evident to any observer that various plots and schemes were afoot within the room, some more treacherous than others, with certain individuals seeking to advance their positions within the hierarchy. Perhaps he himself would partake in such a scheme and maybe not, it all depended on whom was around the corner.

 

[Kaila Irons]

Wearing: New Dress
Tag: Tamsin Graves | Open
Mentioned: Darth Imperius Darth Callidus Alina Tremiru Quinn Varanin

Darth Anathemous entered the converted hangar bay with the same eerie grace she always had, taking deceptively light steps beneath her skirt such that she appeared to almost glide across the durasteel deck, more of a lone specter than a woman.

The Princess had gifted her this dress in secret a few days ago, showing to her how thoughtful and attentive the echani truly was. It had been the perfect gift, a careful blend of rigid armor sewn into fine black cloth. Form fitting and practical enough to duel in if need be, yet decorated in swirling patterns of silver and gunmetal, culminating in the six blade-like protrusions along her strong shoulders.

It was everything the warrior-sorceress could ask for.

The only thing missing, was the princess she so desperately wished to have arm in arm. Finally she had the chance to rest after months of high stakes schemes and fighting in the shadows, and she couldn't even share this moment with the princess,

Because their love was a secret.

Anathemous had become most adept at hiding her thoughts from others, such that she appeared almost mechanical even now, but that didn't stop this from feeling so wrong.


She passed by Darth Imperius and Darth Callidus , her fellow guardians of the frontier worlds and allies by necessity. She would give them a slight dip of the chin in greetings as she passed by, though she assumed their present conversation would no doubt be... distasteful, to the Datomiri-vahla's ears. Imperius, she had no doubt, would take issue with Quinn and her newfound station, disregarding the important lessons she'd learned during her first mission. And the sacrifices she'd made for this empire.

Death was punishment enough, no matter if The Empress could resurrect her or not.


Then, somewhere along the edge of the crowd, she spotted the familiar golden locks of Alina Tremiru , and soon after, the princess herself. She knew her from their mission to Susevfi's first moon, hunting down the last remnants of those wretched mongrels who dared harm the princess. While she was unaware of their exact relationship, she knew Alina to have been a companion of Quinn's, and so she could be content with the knowledge that the echani was in safe company at least.

She sighed, knowing that it would better for Quinn to mingle away from her until they could speak privately.

And so she turned away, in search of her apprentice, Tamsin Graves , who surely could use the company and a gentle occasion to relax after having gone missing for some weeks prior.

Gods know she had neglected her duties as a master for too long.

 

[Darth Malum of House Marr]

He was not meant to be here.

He scoffed again at the thought, one foot sitting rigid against the floor, as the other leg bent rested against the wall. The Tsis'Kaar armouries were not as well known as that of the Kainite forges, though, he supposed, that was on purpose. In short order, all which he had upon him, that was wielded in service to the song of battle, had been returned to him, repaired, nay, restored to their correct function.

The blood had been wiped off, the blood had been peeled off, the dents and cracks hammered and sealed, what parts had to be wholly replaced had been done so, revealing ever the armour of his mistress, remade entirely for him, on his form. It was hardly the apparel one wore to celebration, but as much as the replica mask of his great and famous ancestor, foisted and fixed to his face, they all were fast becoming the very articles of being that the public saw.

Darth Marr was as much remembered, visually at least, by his mask, as the spikes that protruded from his shoulders. Such was not, the style which suited him, as much as his House taught reverence to such visage, rationalised away that he was not as of yet, worthy to mimick such a display... but, he knew the truth enough.

Perhaps it would be this armour, that would become his own symbol.

He could allow himself to muse. He could allow himself to breathe.

Even as much as he did not wish to be here, indeed, did not believe he deserved to be here, it had been specially requested that he should, and in these days...

...He was hardly going to deny the wishes of Quinn.

...Bogan, he allowed the breath to leave his lungs, as the music idly chattered in his ears, was he so glad, she was safe.

He had made enough of a presence so far... and he had spent too much time keeping a careful gaze towards the Sangnir, and the Princess, he had thought... once he had made his appearance, once he had confirmed again for his eye's belief, that she was safe, he would depart.

Perhaps he would.

But for now, he stayed on his wall, and waited.

Perhaps he would speak to her, perhaps he would speak to Trayze, or Darth Callidus, his fellow of the Tsis'Kaar.

Perhaps he would leave as quickly as he had come.

Trayze Tesar Lirka Ka Credius Nargath Darth Imperius Darth Callidus Alina Tremiru Quinn Varanin Kaila Irons Nanmen Ma Darth Carnifex Darth Meritum

 

[Trayze Tesar]

CURRENT MISSION - Warhorse's Respite
Immediate Goals -
1: Stand there
1.1: Look Pretty
1.2: Stand there while looking pretty
1.3: Don't fall over while standing there and looking pretty.

BLUFOR - Darth Malum of House Marr

OPFOR - Lirka Ka

TARGETING ACTION(S) - Lirka Ka || Darth Malum of House Marr || OPEN FREQUENCY

---

"It is not merely the material that I am interested in," Trayze answered, sensing a presence... a presence he had long neglected. "Function begets form, but let us continue this conversation a different time." With that, he made his way, or rather attempted to make his way, to his cousin.

The Viper, the Dark Councilor, his (technical) boss as Lord High Inquisitor of the Tsis'kaar - but his cousin. Bogan above he knew what he would say to Malum's well meaning desires to have Trayze become gradually more Marr than Tesar - and he might take it, it was getting tiresome. The endless missions, the thankless duties - he wasn't entirely sure about Malum's plans, but by blood he would stay by him, even if it was to tell him he was a karking imbecile at time.

No doubt what he'd say to me...

It was first the unseen brush along the shoulders, a pat from a long-away friend, the Force slithered through the oppressive shadows of so many Sith - some that loom large and deep, like the Darth Carnifex, or skitter about like so many spiders weaving their webs of intrigue. He hadn't really connected with Malum, and they had drifted apart - mostly due to him.

Bogan above, why won't his pride leave him be?

But one way or another, the boots would be heard near the raven haired man along the wall, and a wordless greeting was heard. Silent. Somber. What words could be said, considering what he'd done... the Princess nearly died on his watch, and if he'd only been faster.

If only he'd been more like Malum, who effortlessly usurped a Triumvir, and demanded the attention of the Worm Emperor and the Butcher King. If he was more like him, he would have cohorts, apprentices, fame, influence to exert his influence.

If only he did better, if only he did more. He wouldn't be needed for this stupid charade of a meeting, where the Princess would be regaled as a living martyr, where the woman known as "Kaila" would gain her just rewards, and the bitterness of envy wouldn't be shown. He would be with Malum, with the family he had brought together with force of will and charisma.

Would Malum still count Trayze among his kin? Among his... friends? If he didn't... Trayze exhaled, before awkwardly shifting, preceding with a breath words that weren't there. I'd bloody well earned it.