Faction [Sith Order]: The Darkness Whispers || Korriban

[Lord Depravious]

(Open to any sith wishing to engage in RP)

|| Korriban: Valley of the Dark Lords ||​

Lord Depravious stood on the scorching sands of his home world. A world that he had at one time in his life wished to see razed to the ground - it stood for the very thing in his life that he wished to destroy.

He could feel each burning pebble of sand under his feet, as the rays of the sun encircled his armor, robes, and cybernetics. The rays of heat slamming into his form like the constant pressure that the sea places on a beach. Here stood Depravious, a Sith Lord who had spent the past several decades studying the long forgotten texts of his ancestors. Those who had come before him and failed.

Shaidin Kamari was not interested in failure. In fact his entire goal for spending the past several years in this hot desolate wasteland was to learn from the mistakes of those who had come before him. Whilst he looked upon their failures with disdain, there was something to learn from the failure of others.

Lord Depravious had been disconnected from the rest of the galaxy, spending time with the spirits of his ancestors, conversing, looking into the past with visions of darkness - but more importantly trying to see into his future. The Bogan was a fleeting mistress that exacted a heavy toll on those who would use it for their own gain - and something that Depravious learned from the fallen Emperor Vitiate - the Bogan does not like to be disrespected.

The man strode along the sands, tombs of his predecessors flanking either side of him. For years now he had perfected the ability to suppress even the faintest hint that his aura existed in the Universe. He was sure that none of those he knew before still remained - and he was even more sure that those that currently existed in the galaxy and shared his affinity for the bogan would surely see him as a threat.

Good. He thought to himself as he slowly began walking forward through the valley.

Step.. Step.. Step..

With each step he took in the sand he drew deeper within himself, releasing the murderous aura from within him - reaching out through the force to any who shared in his affinity for the darkside that resided on the planet.

For those who could sense this overwhelming release of power.. Dread, would immediately flood the mind of even a trained master in the dark side of the force. A malicious and evil presence has now shown itself on Korriban and awaits your attention.

Meanwhile, Lord Depravious allowed the darkness to extend from his form - for anyone who may have been in the immediate vicinity of him - black tendrils nearly invisible to the naked eye seemed to extend from his body as his aura was released into the galaxy.

"I believe it's time I take back my home on Raxus Secundus.. I'm sure that my people have missed me.." He whispered as an evil smile crawled across his lips from behind the cybernetic helmet adorning his head.

 

[Serina Calis]

The Darkness Whispers.
Location: Korriban
Objective:
Allies: ???
Opposing Force: ???
Tags: Lord Depravious ​

The winds of Korriban were never gentle.

They howled like ancient spirits denied rest, whipping dust across jagged rocks and forgotten monuments to dead gods. Red sands coiled in the air like incense at a funeral, clinging to flesh and cloth, staining everything in its path with the hue of spilled blood. Somewhere amidst this graveyard of titans, where the air itself seemed thick with whispering hatred and old wounds that never closed, she sat.

Not in reverence.
Not in fear.
But in delight.

A low-hung ridge carved by time and blaster-fire sheltered her from the worst of the sun's lash. There, nestled in the shadow of an ancient obelisk that bore the faded sigils of some long-dead Sith warlord, a figure reclined atop a silk-lined rug. The fibers were far too fine, far too soft, for a place like this. They belonged on a yacht orbiting Chandrila's glittering moon, not draped over cracked stone and ruin. But that was precisely why she brought it.

Because she could.

A crystal goblet swirled in one gloved hand, catching the red light like liquid rubies. Within it: deep violet Chandrilan wine, rare and old, older perhaps than the bones that lay beneath the sand. Its perfume lingered in the air, sweet and decadent, like something forbidden. Much like the woman who drank it.

Her name—if any soul dared ask—was not Serina Calis, not today. That name belonged to someone who followed rules, who still paid lip service to the Jedi Code even as she bent it around her will like molten glass.

No. Today she was something else.

Veiled in sheer silks woven through with shimmering threads, her attire was an artistic insult to the harshness of the world around her. The bodice clung like a second skin, leaving little to the imagination and offering even less forgiveness. Obsidian-black metal framed her throat, climbing like fingers toward her jaw, a mockery of a slave's collar—one she had chosen to wear. Her long golden hair was braided loosely, cascading down her bare shoulder in waves, kissed by dust and sun, framing a face painted not with cosmetics but with purpose.

Her lips—wine-dark and curved in amusement—parted just slightly as she took another sip.

He had arrived.

She did not know him. Not in name, nor in title. But the darkness? That she knew. Like a lover returning after too long. It rolled across the landscape like a thunderhead, thick and cloying, heavy with hunger and old fury. She could feel it deep in her chest, not unlike arousal. Something ancient stirred beneath her skin, fingers twitching with unbidden glee. Her body shifted on the silks like a cat stretching in the sun, every movement deliberately slow, luxurious, as though the dread rising through the Force was nothing more than a breeze across her thighs.

The Force whispered warnings—danger, power, death—but Serina only laughed.

"Oh, finally," she purred aloud to no one, voice rich with promise. "Something interesting..."

Her eyes, blue as glacier ice and twice as cutting, tracked the figure far below. He moved with purpose, his steps like thunder beneath the surface of the world. Armor shimmered beneath the sun's fury. He bled darkness with every breath, and the planet welcomed it, its ancient stones singing in resonance.

She tilted her head, studying him like art. Like prey. Like a man who might, perhaps, for a moment, be worthy of her attention.

"You poor, beautiful monster…" she whispered, amusement curling her voice like smoke. "You have no idea I'm watching you, do you?"

Tendrils of black, nearly unseen, licked across the valley like smoke. Even from this distance, she felt them slithering across her skin, brushing against her thoughts. They sought presence—his presence—and in doing so, brushed against hers.

She did not recoil.

She parted her lips and let the darkness taste her.

Let it find her.

She smiled, not sweetly. Not kindly.

But with teeth.

And as she lifted the goblet to her lips once more, she whispered with a voice like silk stretched over daggers to him:

"Come find me, little god."
"Let's see which of us devours the other."

 

[Lord Depravious]

To dust we shall all return, in due time.

With each step the ancient Sith Lords darkness expanded from inside of him, crashing into the stone monuments around him like a tidal wave of oppression.

Shaidin Kamari was acutely aware of the beings that surrounded him, both living and dead. The wailing cries of spirits did not phase him any more, he could sense the hunger of someone near him that could potentially give his namesake of Depravious a run for its money.

Her hunger felt like a bottomless void to him, so much so that instead of quaking in fear as even trained Sith Masters had done in the past - she seemed to feed on it.

His arm reached up to the helmet that adorned his battle scarred face - before removing it entirely revealing his face for the first time in what felt like Eons. The callous sun that stood looming above Korriban like a never ending fire for an instant recoiled from the darkness now exuding from within the heart of Lord Depravious.

The gaze of a predator now stared directly towards Serina Calis - his eyes filled with the fires of old and ancient betrayals.

A never ending void of bottomless hunger.. We shall see just how bottomless. He thought to himself.

And in that moment, his darkness, his power, his focus, his attention was now all aimed directly at this woman. The dark tendrils of his power climbed around her rug, her silks and then her body - clawing and cleaving their way up to her parted lips - at which point she could feel a chill enter her body. The chilling feeling of dread that entered her could cut through bone and dissolve flesh if it were made material.

At that moment a voice echoed around her ears - though if she was looking closely she could swear his mouth was not moving.

"I can hear your heart beat thrumming.. Like the beat of a war drum in your chest." The voice continued, while echoing around her ears. "Tell me, are you willing to walk along the edge of danger and into the abyss to gain a portion of the power I wield?"

 

[Serina Calis]

The Darkness Whispers.
Location: Korriban
Objective:
Allies: ???
Opposing Force: ???
Tags: Lord Depravious ​

The sands did not shift. They shivered.

Around her, the crimson dunes no longer whispered but moaned, their sighs rising with the surge of something vast and ancient—something that now saw her. She felt it before she saw it. The air thickened, dense and honey-slow, laced with a cloying power so vile and rich that it caressed the skin like oil. Her wine turned bitter on her tongue as the first of the tendrils reached her. They did not simply coil around her silks and flesh—they claimed her, like vines around a willing sacrifice.

She exhaled, slowly.

A lesser woman might have recoiled, might have scrambled for her lightsaber or drawn upon the Force like a shield. Serina Calis did not. She leaned back further on her pillows, letting her limbs spread, bare feet sliding languidly across the silks as the shadows tasted her. The wind caught the slit in her sheer garment and pulled it open wider, revealing the curve of her thigh, the hollow at her hip, a glimpse of delicate ink etched in old Sith down her side—for beauty and ruin alike.

Her lips, stained wine-dark, parted with a sigh that was somewhere between laughter and arousal.

"Oh my..." she purred, her voice low and velvet-rich, every syllable dipped in molten sin. "I was wondering whether you'd notice me eventually. Though I confess, I imagined a more traditional introduction—perhaps I dropped my goblet, and you stooped to return it. Something chivalrous."

She chuckled, a sound that dripped like honey into poisoned tea.

"But this... this is better."

The tendrils pressed tighter against her flesh now—whispers of claws teasing the skin of her throat, curling around the curve of her hip, slithering up her spine like a lover's caress. When the chill entered her—deep, primal, true—she did not flinch. She arched, the motion subtle but unmistakable. Not submission.

Invitation.

And then the voice came. Not with breath. Not with lips. But with presence.

It curled around her like a serpent, hissing against her ear with the intimacy of a kiss. It spoke not to her mind but to the part of her soul she had long ago stripped bare—the place where ambition nestled against desire, where power was a perfume she wore instead of fear.

Yes, she thought. Let it drum. Let it beckon.

Her smile widened slowly, revealing the gleam of white teeth and something altogether more dangerous behind them. She stood, finally—slow and statuesque, the silks clinging to her like fog. Her movements were ritual, deliberate, theatrical in the most obscene way. As if every step toward him was a seduction… or a summoning.

She raised the goblet high in one hand, let the remaining wine pour out in a smooth, arcing stream. It splashed onto the sand like spilled blood, soaking into Korriban's ancient thirst.

"Walk the edge?" she echoed, voice languid as a courtesan's lullaby. "Darling, I live on the edge. I've danced blindfolded on the knife between ecstasy and oblivion, and smiled when it cut."

Another step.

"I have studied with Jedi who feared my questions. I have kissed Sith Lords as they begged me for absolution. I have whispered sweet ruin into the ears of kings and slit their throats before the echo faded."

Another.

"I've held the Force in my palm like a lover's pulse, and told it what I wanted."

She stopped, close now. Close enough that the air between them crackled like something alive. Close enough that if he had eyes for it, he'd see her irises flicker—not with fear, but with fire. Ancient, golden, hungry.

"So let me answer your question…"

She reached up and gently, with slow precision, ran one gloved finger along the line of her collarbone, then down—tracing the path the tendrils had taken, a sensual mimicry that burned hotter than any flame.

"I don't want a portion of your power…"

Her head tilted, gaze predatory.

"I want to take it."

A pause. Then:

"Or—if you're lucky... share it. After all..." Her voice dropped to a husky whisper, just loud enough for the darkness to carry it to his bones. "Isn't corruption more delightful when it's mutual?"

 

[Lord Depravious]

Tag: Serina Calis

Shaidin took note of the honey coated poison that dripped from her lips. The venomous scent in the air that lingered on every single word that she spoke, and with every single step that she took and every word that she spoke as she grew closer a smile crept along Lord Depravious's face.

Lord Depravious was surely not like the other Sith Lords that this woman had tempted. Her words travelled through the air like a warm summer breeze that forbodes an incoming thunderstorm.

For but a moment Shaidin Kamari found himself enraptured. Not with the temptations themselves, but with her skill and ability of temptation. She also had a confidence that reminded the Sith Lord of himself many years ago.

As she grew close to Shaidin, the air between them thickened like honey warmed by the sun, rich with the weight of her temptation.

"My chivalry died years ago." As he spoke the weight of his words caused sorrow to flash across the mans smile for an almost imperceptible moment.

"Perhaps in time, you will come to learn why" His voice was deep and sultry, roughened by years of battle like a blade honed yet never dulled. Though time had carved its weight into his soul, the dark rituals he mastered kept his body untouched by age, a vessel of youth carrying the echoes of countless wars.

Lord Depravious closed the distance with deliberate steps, his presence pressing into the space between them like a shadow creeping over the last light of day. Within moments, his face hovered beside her ear, his gaze fixed straight ahead—eyes a smoldering mix of yellow and red. His voice, smooth yet edged with something ancient and unyielding, slithered into her ear.

"Your temptations will not sway me… but I have use for them."

His hand lifted as if to caress her face, yet he never quite made contact, his fingers lingering mere millimeters from her skin. Slowly, his head tilted, his piercing gaze shifting to meet hers, the weight of his words coiling around her like unseen chains.

"I require complete obedience. If you cannot submit… then know this—I have already felt the shattering of my heart. It will not break again."

As his whisper coiled into her ear, the space between them pulsed with arcane power. The air itself seemed to tighten, charged with an unseen force, and the tendrils of his presence slithered like vipers, winding around her, suffocating yet inescapable.

 

[Serina Calis]

The Darkness Whispers.
Location: Korriban
Objective:
Allies: ???
Opposing Force: ???
Tags: Lord Depravious ​

The air quivered with pressure.

Heat licked against her skin, not from Korriban's twin suns but from him—from that voice, those words, each syllable dragging across her senses like the edge of a finely whetted blade. The weight of his sorrow, brief though it was, hung in the air like incense. Delicious, she thought, savoring it like a rare spice. Pain laced with power… such a beautiful combination.

She didn't blink when he moved closer.

She didn't flinch when his breath touched her ear like a phantom kiss, nor when the space between them thickened with the sheer gravity of his will. His voice—rich, rough, eternal—told her what he required.

Obedience. Submission.

Oh, how many had asked that of her.

And how many had bled when they realized she never truly gave it.

The tendrils gripped tighter, sensing the moment—curling, constricting, eager to dominate. But Serina Calis, smiling like a serpent sunbathing on a tombstone, tilted her head ever so slightly, her breath warm against his cheek.

"Mmm… what a pity," she whispered, voice drenched in silk and venom. "I was just starting to enjoy this little performance."

Her hand lifted—not fast, not sudden, but with the smooth grace of a woman who knew exactly what she was doing. Her fingertips hovered before his chest, as if offering a lover's touch. And then—

She exhaled.

Not breath, not air, but light.

Force Resistance.

A radiant pulse, soft gold tinged with the barest hue of twilight violet, burst from her palm in a perfect, rippling ring. It was not the clean, pristine light of the Jedi—no, this was corrupted, impure, claimed. The Light twisted by ownership, not submission. A thing tamed and made to heel.

The tendrils recoiled.

They shrieked in silent agony, ripped back from her body as though seared by holiness. And yet… the light carried no righteousness. It was not hope, not justice. It was power. Hers.

"I don't submit," she said, voice now razor-sharp beneath the velvet. "I negotiate."

Her eyes lifted to meet his fully now, cold blue irises catching the blood-hue of his gaze, their locked stare electric—combustible. Around them, the Force trembled in conflict. Predator versus predator. Fire against the sea.

"I don't know your name. I don't know your scars. I don't care what your ghosts whisper to you while you sleep." Her tone did not falter, even as the remnants of his power still coiled in the dust around her feet. "You think I am here to tempt you? No. I am here because I sensed something hungry—something old—and I wanted to know what was worth feeding on this dead rock."

Her hands drifted down to her sides, brushing her silks, reclaiming her sensuality with ease. "You want obedience? Get in line. There are gods who tried to leash me. They're gone now."

"I am Velveta." She said the name like a threat, a promise, a curse. "I am not some Sithling acolyte desperate for your approval, nor some Jedi clinging to doctrine. I am the middle path corrupted, and I walk it in heels and shadows."

Her lips parted once more, the flirtation returning like a lover never far.

"But…"

A pause, heavy.

"You interest me."

The statement hung in the air like a drop of wine poised to spill.

"I've had my fill of broken men pretending to be gods. But if you are truly what the Force whispered in my ear before I landed on this wasteland, then perhaps we might… exchange favors."

Another step forward. Close again. Not as prey. As a mirror.

"I am not here to offer you my soul. I'm here to see if I can take a bite of yours."

And then, with exquisite grace, she smiled—head tilting just enough to let her golden hair cascade like spilled light over her shoulder.

"So…"

The air began to still again, as if Korriban itself listened.

"Are you going to tell me your name, or shall I keep calling you my newest obsession?"

 

[Lord Depravious]

Tags: Serina Calis


Disgust.

Disgust seeped into the hollow void where his soul had once lain, safeguarded and still—before it had been shattered beyond repair. Yet this revulsion did not stem from her defiance; he had known, even as the words left his lips, that she would never submit. Like him, she had her own ambitions, her own carefully woven schemes. No, his disgust ran deeper. She was one who danced on the precipice of light and dark, never truly understanding the cost—the inexorable toll that the Bogan demanded.

It became painfully clear to Lord Depravious that she did not wield the dark side; she fed off the suffering it wrought in others, drinking in their agony to nourish the abyss within her. A parasite masquerading as a master.

Whatever soul she claimed to possess had long since been torn asunder. And yet, despite his disdain, she could still serve a purpose. She might even provide him amusement, a fleeting diversion in the endless march of time. But nothing more. She would mean nothing to him in the end—just as he was certain he would mean nothing to her.

Then, with a subtle motion, she twisted her defiance into a weapon, turning it inward, forcing the tendrils of his power to recoil. For a breath, his presence stilled, the oppressive weight of his arcane energy vanishing into silence.

And then it came roaring back.

Not touching her—no, not directly—but surrounding her, engulfing her. The tendrils, imperceptible to the untrained eye, coiled closer to him, yet the presence he commanded pressed against the very air, thick and suffocating. His darkness, long restrained, now erupted, swallowing the space between them in a relentless tide of shadow.

For the first time in an eternity, the sun over Korriban seemed to dim—if only within the small, inescapable void that had formed between them.

"Forgive my lack of manners." His words rang out, now booming with an underlying arcane power, the force of them crashing through the air. The disgust and disdain in his tone were like sharpened blades, cutting through the space between them.

"You may call me Lord Depravious, although your obession will also do" he continued, the words dripping with contempt, the bitterness still clinging to the edges of his voice.

"You have made your desires clear, but what is it you offer in return? Will you slit the throats of kings, bring down broken men masquerading as gods—all in my name?"

His choice to not ask her name was intentional – for now he cared not for a paltry thing such as a name or title, her potential usefulness to him was the only thing that kept his blade from her throat.

Shaidin had no illusion that this woman would be easy to tame; she was a tempest, wild and unpredictable. But he had bent far stronger wills with far fewer tools at his disposal. She may yet prove useful, depending on what venomous words slipped from her lips next.

 

[Serina Calis]

The Darkness Whispers.
Location: Korriban
Objective:
Allies: ???
Opposing Force: ???
Tags: Lord Depravious
​

The dark surged again—like a leviathan breaching the depths of the abyss.

It clawed across the air, a tidal wave of shadows collapsing inward on her like the falling walls of a temple, a force that would have shattered lesser things. But Serina Calis was not lesser. She was refined, distilled from fire and ice and secrets older than the Sith scripts engraved on the tombs around them.

The air grew cold. Not with chill, but with knowing.
With memory.

"Lord Depravious," she murmured softly as he declared his name, his voice crashing through the desolate valley like judgment from the grave.

She let it hang there on her tongue, tasting its bitterness like old wine.

Around her, the darkness writhed—his darkness—and yet again it found no purchase on her skin. The space around her shimmered with light, not in defiance but in perfect, measured dominion. A soft radiance pulsed outward from her form, golden with amethyst veins, not cleansing but twisting, corrupted in rhythm with her heartbeat. It was not opposition to the dark, nor a shield—it was an acknowledgment.

A pet light, long since broken and collared, purring for its mistress.

The tendrils recoiled once more, not from pain this time, but from deference. They knew, now. She was not prey.

"Forgive you?" she echoed back, her voice like satin soaked in sin. "Oh, my lord, you're already forgiven. For a man cloaked in sorrow, your arrogance is such a comfort."

And then she stepped forward.

Through his pressure. Through the suffocating void that hung around him like a death shroud. The moment her feet touched the stone again, the darkness yielded, not from weakness—but from recognition. It knew her. The Force did. Light and Dark alike.

They had each knelt for her once before.

Her smile returned, slow and knowing, carved like a dagger into lips the color of murder.

"You ask what I offer?" she said. Her eyes glinted now, blue ice ringed with golden flame. "Do not mistake me for a waif with daggers behind her smile. I have spilled the blood of kings without being asked. I have climbed into the minds of prophets and whispered heresies until they shattered on their altars."

The wind picked up now, as if summoned by her breath alone. The Force shimmered around her, a heat-haze of blasphemy and seduction. She lifted a single hand, fingers spread in mock prayer.

"I have already sworn my throat to another," she said softly, and something in her voice shifted—a reverence, unshakable and terrifying. "To the storm incarnate, sovereign of the Unknown. I serve her still. I will serve her until the last stars rot."

A pause. Her tongue flicked against her lower lip.

"But loyalty is not contradiction. The galaxy is large, and the appetites of gods are vast."

She let the words linger between them like perfume.

"He marked me. Deep in his sanctum, in the bowels of Dromund Kaas. I knelt before the abyss itself, and it breathed me in. You, Lord Depravious… you are strong. Undeniably. More than most I've tasted in this decadent, dying age. But I have looked into the abyss at its most feral. I have walked through it. And when it tried to devour me, I licked its teeth."

A sharp step forward now, until her breath warmed his chestplate. No armor, no darkness, no cruelty in this galaxy could obscure the scent of her power when she wished it felt.

"I will not kneel. But I will deal."

She leaned in now, until her voice was pressed into his ear, her breath cold as winter but sweet as bloodied honey.

"I offer tools you've never seen, whispers in courts you've never touched. I can make your enemies slit their own throats, smiling. I can give you knowledge that even your spirits never dared show you."

She pulled back, just enough for her gaze to burn into his—those swirling infernos of yellow and red now reflected in her own, like a star catching flame in water.

"I do want to feed on you. In some way or another. I do want your attention, your wrath, your hate—your power. But not because I need it. I crave the shape of you. The cut of your will. The artistry of your shadow."

Another step back, just enough to let her silhouette stretch long and seductive in the dimming sun, the light casting her like an ancient statue carved for blasphemy and desire.

"So ask not if I'll slit throats in your name," she said finally, voice almost a purr. "Ask what I will cost you, when the time comes that you decide I am worth the risk."

And she raised her hand once more—her corrupted light pulsing faintly, her leash of dominion glittering between the twin poles of night and radiance.

"Now… shall we walk the sands like allies, my lord? Or shall we entertain each other's pride until one of us tires of the game? I believe it is time to skip the theatrics and move to the grander scheme at large..."