Populate [SO Populate of Empty Hex] Survival of Ozzuk Thren

[Spirit of Korriban]

On the barren world of Orinackra, a former prison planet in the far reaches of Wild Space, the Trials of Ozzuk Thren offer survivalists and the ambitious from across the galaxy a chance to prove themselves. More than a competition, these Trials symbolize the growing reach of Korriban's planetary government beneath the Sith Order, whose influence has expanded through alliance with the Diarchy and technological partnerships with the Trade Federation. Its holonet broadcast transforms this event into a galactic sensation. From impoverished workers to wealthy nobles, countless billions tune in to witness the drama, bloodshed, and grueling survival unfold in real time. Notoriously, the Sith Order's Tsis'Kaar uses these Trials as a means to scout out and identify talent for use. Through closed-door deals and private wagers, Sith operatives, crime lords and black market tycoons, noble families, and Sith allies invest heavily in the Trials, influencing outcomes or using the broadcast to bolster their own circumstances.

Hosted by the planetary government of Korriban, in collaboration with Kor'ethyr Academy, Sorzus Academy, the Outer Rim Diarchy, Aurora Industries, and the Trade Federation, this legendary event represents an unparalleled proving ground and launch-pad for warriors anywhere in their career. Sith Academy acolytes seek to ascend within their Orders. Mercenaries, bounty hunters, and participants from all cultures come seeking fame, challenge, or riches and rewards.​

ARENA OF OZZURK THREN

The massive, circular wall surrounding Ozzuk Thren once protected this supercity from its enemies. Now, it serves as a grim boundary for the Trial's contestants. The city itself is a dangerous labyrinth of collapsed skyscrapers and yawning stone valleys, carved deep into Orinackra's rocky crust and criss-crossed with underground, Imperial-made prison warrens. Prepared for with both sorcery and technological innovation, and populated with the Order's deadliest Sithspawn, every corner of Ozzuk Thren holds both danger and opportunity.

RULES
The Trials of Ozzuk Thren span five days, culminating in a final confrontation at the Obelisk of Ozzuk. Participants are dropped at randomized locations across the map, armed with only a holomap, a basic dagger, and one of two types of Trial Coins; crimson coins, cut from red-glinting crystal, or obsidian coins, hewn from meteorite-black stone.​

Start with one Trial Coin. Acquire the opposite coin by defeating participants or else discovering and claiming them from hidden and/or defended locations throughout Ozzuk's dangerous outskirts. Survive until the fifth day, navigating both the city's hazards and surviving other participants. Deliver both coins to the Obelisk of Ozzuk on the fifth day to complete the Trial.

​

There are no rules against alliances, betrayals, or sabotage, except that two coins must be exchanged per participant, regardless of alliance. Survivability, ingenuity, and ruthlessness are the keys to victory. Kor'ethyr Academy nor any associated institution is liable for the death of Trial participants.​

The Obelisk of Ozzuk stands as the Trials' central feature and final destination. At its summit, the King of Korriban, Darth Caedes , presides alongside his council of overseers, Kor'ethyr Academy's faculty, and the most formidable Sith Masters associated with the Sith Order and its allies. From this vantage, they monitor the unfolding trials below, gathered around a massive, raised holo-projector table displaying the arena's every detail. Here, the King's Court wields its authority by manipulating the battlefield insofar as summoning or releasing Sithspawn, activating traps, or else altering terrain or weather to challenge or reward participants. Reaching the Obelisk with both Trial Coins is the ultimate goal, but the journey there is fraught with peril.​

CLASH OF COINS |PvP|
The quickest route to victory is through combat. Ambitious contestants may opt for a high-risk, high-reward opportunity to dominate their peers from the onset, acquiring their needed Trial Coins in direct combat with other competitors. Equipped with handheld holomaps, participants are empowered to locate resource caches scattered across the inner city's desolate expanse. While these caches do not hold Trial Coins, they do contain essential items for survival: weapons, armor, medical supplies, and rations. However, every cache is both a lifeline and a lure, a magnet for conflict, forcing those who seek them to either fight for their spoils or else form fleeting alliances in order to secure temporary gains.​

SCAVENGER HUNT |PvE|
Scattered across the ruined city and its many harsh biomes, Trial Coins are safeguarded in hidden locations, fiercely protected by Sithspawn, environmental hazards, pre-set traps, and the remnants of ancient-yet-active Imperial machinery, occasionally springing to life with deadly results. These environments offer no solace for participants, with each coin situated in perilous locales. The fetid Zhakarim Swamps have crept beneath the wall and overtaken Ozzuk's city outskirts, threatening knee-deep-sludge and teeming with venomous Sithspawn, serpents, leviathans, and natural born predators like the swamp wampa. The Western Outskirts, barren and windswept, are haunted by massive arachne spiders and many other creatures warped by Sith alchemy. Students must venture into these hostile territories, facing dangerous creatures and atmospheres alike, if they hope to claim their coveted Trial Coin from the land, rather than from their peers and fellow competitors.​

Everything You Need To Get Started:

• OOC Coordination Thread [OOC]
• Kor'ethyr Academy [Overview Document]
• Kor'ethyr Academy [Codex]
• Getting Started [LFG Thread]

Event Faculty:

• Darth Caedes
• Madrona A’Mia
• Zal Aditi
• Ufsa'ynth'aris

Interested Parties:

• Kivah Naamino Zuukamano Micah tol Powl Sevrin Myunnah Ala Quin Diarch Reign Diarch Rellik Viers Connory Madrona A’Mia Lyssara Thrynn Credius Nargath Catronia Byrne Domina Prime Marlon Sularen Orys Starwind Lady Falentra Orion Pavond Lodd Grimmin Chasianna Taeli Raaf Lao-ta Thel Kaan Ufsa'ynth'aris Tova Rachi Zal Aditi Elim Thorne Maiza Vex Itzhal Volkihar P O D Lady Nightmare Leshanna The Scion Elmindra Xitaar Darth Callidus Gavin Vel Haro Aven Lucette

 

[Maiza Vex]

Theme: Good Day to Die
Tags: Naamino Zuukamano | Micah tol Powl | Gavin Vel | Leshanna | Lyssara Thrynn | Kivah | Chasianna | Kyorra Pavanos | Haro Aven | Viers Connory

---

"Sons and Daughters of the Sith, I am Maiza Vex."

Maiza looked upon those gathered, her face covered in red and black warpaint. She stood firmly up right with her arms pressed behind her back as she paced back and forth in front of those gathered. She seemed poised and ready for a long battle ahead. In here head the war drums played as she spoke with gravitas and bravado.

"Yes the legends are true, I've have fought jedi masters and slayed mighty beasts. I am a well honed warrior as you all will become this day. Our survival, determination, and grit will be tested to its limits. We will consume all our enemies on this battlefield using everything we have learned from shotting fireballs out our eyes and lightening bolts out our arses. I am Maiza Vex. Before me I see a whole army of my fellow inmates. We stand here in defiance of the tyranny the warden and his guards have put before us as a test. You have all come to fight to prove you are true sith, and true sith you are. What would you be if not Sith? Cowards, weaklings, or maybe an accountant? Today we fight, fight to prove our worth to survive and I Maiza Vex will lead you through the storm we now all face."

Today legends would be told of these sons and daughters, well the ones that didn't die anyway. Maiza looked on the group she saw a lot of brave young mean and women willing to put thier life on the line. Well except that one kid who wasn't listening at all who was going over statistical data on his datapad, he would die quickly. The warden and his guards would meet there match in the army Maiza had assembled. In Maiza's imagination it would be a war of the ages, of epic untold proportions like no other sith had ever seen.

"Some of you will die, we will sing your names with honor unless you die in a stupid way then we will just laugh and crack jokes. If things get tough we may have to eat our fellow man out there, just know we are taking there strength and making it our own. Some one may try to betray the group, know whom ever you are our justice will be swift and true. The tongue of the viper will be cut out, the eyes of the spy will be gouged, the fingers of the thief severed, and the legs of a coward removed."

This was about survival this was her game, the one she was meant to win. Her whole life had been about survival and getting to the next day alive. Granted this was the first time it was more than just about her, it was about getting a whole group of people to the next day. Some might think she was taking this way too seriously or too far but Maiza saw it as her greatest test. Ever since almost dying on the racing fields she vowed she would crush all that stood in her way.

"Remember what you are fighting for, remember what you are killing for, it will keep you alive out there sons and daughters of the sith."

She stopped her pacing back and forth and gave them all one last looking over. She then gave herself a reassuring nod that they were mostly ready. It was onto the task at hand, they had things to get done and feats to accomplish on this first day.

"Our first goal is to find a fortifiable position on the battlefield, once we have that secured we will break up into hunting parties and begin our scavenging for weapons and supplies."

 

[Lao-ta]

Zal Aditi Elim Thorne Darth Caedes
​

Lao-ta crept her way along the top of the crumbling building. Letting her black bodysuit and cloak help her blend into the shadows. She had made for high ground after being released onto the streets of Ozzuk Thren. The Jedi master could feel the darkness emanating from the prisons under the city and was reluctant to enter where her senses might be dulled by the lingering despair that had left its mark on the complex: that and her aversion to being underground. She instead opted to take a route through the upper levels of the city towards the obelisk in the center.

She had entered the competition under the alias Djarek Ringo, a mysterious bounty hunter. She felt it a silly name, but Elim and Niynx assured her it would work. They had made some effort to establish her cover story going so far as to forge holonews reports about her illicit activities. The plan was twofold. Elim would approach the Sith lord Darth Caedes with a gift and draw Caedes’ attention to Djarek Ringo in the arena. He would be posing as one of her crew and he would suggest that their services could benefit the king of Korriban as he sought to expand his reach across the galaxy and that the bounty hunter had entered the arena intent on proving her worth.

All of it was a ploy to get close to Caedes. So much of what they’d learned about the man made him seem unlike other Sith. He cared for his people in a way that seemed sincere. He had led massacres to be sure, but he seemed at odds with the greater Sith Order. Ever since she found his history years ago she had been curious. He had once been known as Nejaa Niynx. A powerful Jedi. A child of prophecy. A great talent. But as she had seen in other historical examples the Jedi Order like its older predecessors had made the mistake of trying to turn a sensitive young man into a weapon. Oh, they used the rationale of peacekeeping and seeking justice but they forced an already troubled soul into places of darkness that he had not been prepared to go, and he broke. His departure from the order was bloody and the Sith found him at his moment of vulnerability pushing him further into madness.

The Caedes she had met on Coruscant some years back was no longer the frenzied young man, but a composed and controlled warrior. They had fought briefly and ever since the man had haunted her thoughts. Recently she had begun having visions of him. More than just idle thoughts. When the force spoke to her she knew well enough to listen. The visions painted a picture of a man at odds with himself. Trying to reconcile feelings he’d thought long banished. Trying to make right a part of the galaxy that the Sith Order had twisted and tormented. Lao-ta had doubts about whether Caedes could be turned, but it was clearly the will of the force that she meet the man again. She would see it through, and if nothing else perhaps she could deprive the Kainite movement of a powerful ally.

She climbed her way carefully from one broken building to the next. It was important that she present a capable and adept performance while not telegraphing her abilities with the force. She had been keeping her presence suppressed for several days now as she neared the Sith who might sense her. She was athletic and capable and for the most part, didn’t need to reach for the well of strength the force provided her to accomplish her traversal of the city. As she alighted on the next rooftop something caught her eye. A supply crate. Newer than the rest of the surroundings it had to be placed there for the games. She quietly crept closer and searched her surroundings for any other competitors or sithspawn. Her powerful senses had kept her from conflict so far but she could not be too careful.

The master flipped the latch on the crate and the lid popped open with a hiss. She quickly evaluated the contents. A grappling line, two days rations, and a shotgun. Brutal but efficient. The grappling line and rations were greatly appreciated. She doubted that foraging would be much of an option in this ruin. She secured her new gear and moved on. She would need to keep moving. She had a coin to find and a king to impress. Better armed she now turned her senses to a new task. No longer would she be evading enemies. Now she was on the hunt.

Later that day:​

Lao-ta rappelled down into the domed building. A sithspawn had made this place its den. She was sure of it. She could feel the twisted presence prowling the interior. She also felt the mind of another competitor approaching. She intended to stir up a conflict that she could take advantage of. Set the two against each other. She detached the grappling line as she landed on one of the catwalks within the great dome and crouched low trying to keep hidden as she searched for the beast. It wasn’t long before she found it. A twisted monster that appeared to once have been feline in nature. It paced along a balcony below.

She then reached out to the mind of the other competitor and planted a thought. Something is in there. I had better explore it. She felt a small twinge of guilt as she led the stranger straight toward the sithspawn, but if all went according to plan they would survive and she would walk away with a new coin. She couldn’t know for sure that this person held the right coin, but she had a good feeling about it and that meant something to her. She crept along the catwalk until she was right over where the stranger would enter the building.

Then she saw them. A bith carrying a stun stick and a small backpack. Not promising weaponry against the sithspawn but she would be there to save the day. Now to create the problem. She reached out with the force and caused a piece of rubble near the bith to clatter to the floor. The stranger swore and then ducked for cover. The feline creature had taken the bait and stalked closer to the competitor undetected.

The bith stranger seemed aware that they had been made and frantically looked around from their cover as the beast stalked closer. Soon enough it pounced knocking the stun stick away. The stranger managed to keep the beast’s maw away from his face and throat, but its claws raked and mauled at his torso. Time for her to intervene. She vaulted the railing and descended straight down onto the beast’s back carefully and judiciously applying the shotgun to the back of its head. As it collapsed limply atop the bith she whispered “Sorry about this.” as he stared up at her in shock. Then he went as limp as the dead sithspawn when she smashed him in the head with the butt of her gun.

She took a moment to heal him. A careful application of the force. Not enough for a full recovery. Not enough to be noticed over the cameras. Just enough to keep him alive. Then she looted his unconscious form. A stun stick, more rations, a med stim, and more grappling line, and a coin. Not the one she needed. She left him his knife and map then pretended to apply the med stim and healed him a little more. He might have scars, but he would survive, assuming he didn’t find more trouble. This would do for now. It was time for her to hole up for the night. She dragged the stranger off to hide him before climbing to the top of the building to rest. She found a perch to nest in and entered a light trance. It wouldn’t do to be surprised.

 

[Ufsa'ynth'aris]

"But one fact has always remained constant: The Chiss must be approached from a position of strength and respect. One must have strength, for the Chiss will deal only with those capable of keeping their promises. One must have respect, for the Chiss must believe that those promises will be kept."​

―Passage from Mitth'raw'nuruodo's journal​

​

Wild Space
Orinackra System
Ruins of Ozzuk Thren
Day One— Taeli Raaf Elmindra Xitaar Diarch Reign Diarch Rellik Lodd Grimmin Madrona A’Mia Elim Thorne Zal Aditi Tova Rachi [OPEN]

The apex chamber of the Obelisk of Ozzuk Thren hummed with frenetic energy. Holo-projectors cast shifting images across the room—live feeds of the ruined city's treacherous landscape, the labyrinthine valleys beneath it, and the swamplands at the outskirts. Each angle captured by embedded cameras and darting cam-droids revealed acolytes and other challengers as they prepared to enter the arena. Names, affiliations, and brief statistics flickered across the massive central holo-table's displays, their stark texts accompanied by ominous musical cues designed to capture the attentions of Ozzuk Thren's galactic audience.

Syntharis stood at the room's center, an island of calm amidst the storm of production. His cobalt-blue skin gleamed under the cold light of the holoscreens, and his angular features, framed by immaculate blue-black hair, bore the faintest suggestion of amusement as he watched. Cold, crimson eyes scanned the chamber with precision. Every detail mattered. Everything had to be perfect. The galaxy was watching, and King Caedes demanded nothing less than excellence.

Rows of technicians, brought in from Sorzus Academy, worked tirelessly at their stations along the room's outskirts, their faces illuminated by the under-glow of their consoles. Their hands danced over control panels, priming and activating cache-traps, coordinating with arena beast handlers, and opening the holo feed's to live channel viewers everywhere. A steady stream of murmured calls and responses rippled across the room in clipped, hushed tones.

"Prepare the introductions," Syntharis commanded.​

"Feed is ready, sir," agreed one of the technicians.​

"Stand by for introductions."​

"Standing by."​

Overhead, smaller, independent screens displayed anonymous feeds from members of the Black Network's galactic powers, and every now and again Syntharis would glance up at them. To his right, a set of lush seating arrangements filled with the first arrivals—lords and masters, prominent figures from a diverse set of backgrounds and factional interests, all brought together beneath the truce of Orinackra's Survival Games.

Syntharis counted down from three fingers; 3... 2... 1...

"Go."​

<<And now,>> came a resonant voice from one of the glowing projection feeds.
<<The moment the we've all been waiting for! Warriors from across these far flung stars will test their grit in the deadly Trials... of Ozzuk Thren!>>​

A soft whisper at his side broke Syntharis' thoughts. Some pale attendant leaned in to his ear, clad in white and wearing a tight expression.

"The King has just arrived on site, my Lord."​

Syntharis' eyes became sharp, gaining lucidity. He straightened his posture, clasped his hands behind his back and nodded.

"Very well," he replied, his speech slurred in the drawl of his home worlds.​

"See that all is in order."​

"It will be done," agreed the attendant, bowing and slipping away.​

​

​

​

​

 

[Madrona A’Mia]

Wild Space
Orinackra System
Ruins of Ozzuk Thren

Outfit and Gear

​

Eager anticipation flooded A'Mia's emotional experience. She was still growing accustomed to the influence of the Murakami Core, all of the subtle and not so subtle changes she'd experience in recent weeks thanks to her successful integration of the flower into her system. The neti had been more awash with and overcome by strong feelings the likes of which she had either not experienced before, or sensations that were muted imitations compared to the bright blooms of fervor that filled her.

As of yet, these changes hadn't been made too noticeable in her external demeanor but any who knew her well would have certainly taken note of the physical and energetic growth spurt A'Mia had undergone. The woman most commonly stood just shy of two and a half meters tall these days and was always accompanied by one of her newest creations. Her signature in the Force burgeoned with new reaching tendrils of darkness, the way that A'Mia interacted with the world around her had grown all the more rich and complicated. She had been as a wintering tree all that time ago slumbering on Kashyyyk, now she was a willow in full spring bloom with roots that drank deep in the rivers of power around her.

About her long slender neck she wore an artefect crafted to be a fine necklace, her tall form clad in rich black and dusky purple Kor'ethyr robes. All other belongings, alchemical components, or weapons were well hidden somewhere on her person. A'Mia stood ready, large keen eyes watching. Of particular interest to her was the whereabouts of her peer and friendly rival, Zal Aditi , a woman who in recent months had also grown significantly in power. It seemed likely that today would prove impactful for both of them, but the neti could sense something in the way Zal had been interacting with Darth Caedes of late that she was very close to an even more significant transformation.

 

[Lyssara Thrynn]

A nice speech, the one who speaks to us explains our combat objectives. We're going to have to play our cards carefully to win the game, because our enemies are determined to throw obstacles in our way.

As she delivers her motivating speech, I place a hand on my chin, unable to stop myself from thinking about the worst-case scenarios. In large battles like this, you'll encounter all sorts of people. Personally, I want to win. I won't die today—I still have too many projects to complete.

However, I am much better equipped than before. I have my personal grappling hook, I've brought some small projectiles for the occasion, I have my blaster, my knife, and I've even managed to craft a lightsaber by myself. I'm still missing the second one, but I'm eager to test it on the battlefield. This fire saber promises to cause some serious damage.

As she turns toward the horizon, fixing her gaze on the battlefield, I can't help but smile slightly, looking her over with my cold, piercing stare.

"May the Force be with us, and may the blood of our enemies spill upon the ground."

I mentally say what feels like a small prayer to myself, preparing to jump into the fray. I'll go out with the others; I'm not going to act alone this time. I could regret it if I make a mistake. This is serious a long and grueling battle awaits us.

I focus, placing a hand on the hilt of my lightsaber without activating it. It's strapped to my belt. I'm ready to use it. I'll need to give it my all today. I want my name to be etched in history.

Tag : Maiza Vex Micah tol Powl Leshanna Naamino Zuukamano Kivah | Chasianna | @ Kyorra Pavanos | @ Haro Aven | @ Viers Connory

 

[Darth Callidus]

Objective One
Tags: Open

The invitation to witness the events on Orinackra had come to Callidus during an extended foray beyond Sith space. That alone told her the grand nature of the event. It was not sent with the usual codes and clever little ruses often made by Sith across the galaxy. It was a broad invitation, a chance to come and witness an event rarely seen in recent times. A trial of strength and will for the students of the Sith Academy on Korriban. Student versus student, student versus the environment. Some would die, but the strongest would thrive.

Such was the way of the Sith.

Callidus however was not on this world to watch the events however. She was on the world for different reason, though perhaps much deadlier for her in the long run. She had come to the planet to meet with the other leaders of the Academy, as well as the Sith and influential figures that would attend the King of Korriban's gathering. The setting would be different, but the chances for a lethal outcome were just as dangerous.

Arriving at the spire, Callidus entered the chamber, casting her gaze around the others present for this event. There were a select few who she knew, Madrona A’Mia included among them, but today would be spent meeting many new faces. She would watch, listen, and learn all that she could here. After standing in the entrance for a few seconds, taking in all the sights and sounds in the chamber, Callidus set off across the room, looking for the first individual to draw her attention.

 

[Thaelius]

Ufsa'ynth'aris | OPEN
​

From his position near the back of the apex chamber, Grand Moff Thaelius stood like a shadow among the gathering of lords and dignitaries. The stark light of the holoscreens painted his cobalt skin in harsh relief, and the faint hum of the chamber's machinery resonated in his chest like a distant drumbeat. The cacophony of technicians, the dramatic orchestration, and the relentless energy of the broadcast crew were familiar, yet faintly alien to him—a spectacle of the Empire's shifting priorities in the age of spectacle and survival.

He remained still, his crimson eyes scanning the chamber.

The massive holo-table at the center of the room caught his attention, its displays a dizzying cascade of information—names, statistics, affiliations. Thaelius absorbed it all in silence, committing each flashing detail to memory. His mind worked like a combat computer, analyzing the contestants and their chances, the strategic value of this trial, and the broader implications of Korriban's growing influence over this corner of Wild Space.

A robed attendant passed by, offering a perfunctory bow in his direction. Thaelius offered no acknowledgment in return. He had no need for pleasantries here; his purpose was not to be seen but to observe.

The booming announcement of the Trials' commencement reverberated through the chamber, and Thaelius allowed himself the barest hint of a smile—cold, calculated, almost imperceptible. His gaze shifted momentarily to Ufsa'ynth'aris , whose poised command of the proceedings did not escape his notice.

Efficient. Disciplined. Ruthless.

Thaelius appreciated competence, and Ufsa'ynth'aris seemed to exude it.

Stepping forward just slightly, Thaelius positioned himself where he could better view the central holodisplay. From here, the scale of the labyrinth revealed itself—the ruined sprawl of Ozzuk Thren a fitting metaphor for the galaxy's own fractured state. He clasped his hands behind his back, the worn leather of his gloves creaking faintly.

Without turning his head, he addressed a nearby officer, his voice low but clear. "Note the coordinates of that choke point," he said, gesturing subtly at one of the displays. A collapsed tower created a natural bottleneck near the western quadrant of the labyrinth. "A wise contestant will exploit it. I want to see who claims it first—and how."

The officer gave a quick nod and moved to comply, but Thaelius had already turned his focus elsewhere. His presence here was ostensibly that of a mere observer, yet the truth ran deeper. He was studying, cataloging, and considering how the lessons of these trials—born of desperation, ambition, and raw survival—might apply to the galaxy at large.

This was more than a spectacle. This was an experiment in power.

And Thaelius, a soldier of the Empire to his core, intended to learn from it.

 

[Gavin Vel]

Open to any and all challengers

To some, this would be a nightmare—a desolate city filled with crumbling structures and the ever-present threat of danger. For Gavin, it was pure exhilaration. Skulking through the abandoned streets of Ozzuk Threnn, he felt alive. This was his element: no rules, no backup, just raw survival. Only yourself to rely on, person against person, whoever was more vicious coming out the victor. The thought made him grin. He had grown to appreciate his peers at the Academy, but it had been too long since he had the chance to let loose, to embrace the feral instinct that defined him. Here, he wasn’t just another apprentice. He was the predator he was always meant to be.

Hidden in the shadows of an alleyway, Gavin paused and pulled out his holo map, the faint blue glow illuminating his scarred features. According to the map, he was close—very close. His eyes flicked upward, tracing the jagged silhouette of a skyscraper that loomed over him like a silent sentinel. It had been a monument to ambition once, its glass and steel facade a reflection of progress. Now, it was just another decaying husk in this city of ghosts. From his vantage point, he could barely make out the top floors, shrouded in mist and riddled with structural scars from decades of neglect. The cache was somewhere inside, waiting for him.

Pocketing the holo map, Gavin stepped out of the alley, striding toward the entrance with deliberate intent. Subtlety wasn’t his style; it never had been. When he reached the main doors—two massive durasteel slabs hanging loosely from their corroded hinges—he planted his boot against the most intact one and kicked hard. The door crashed inward, slamming against the ground with a deafening echo that reverberated through the empty streets. He smirked, the sound like a challenge to anyone foolish enough to be nearby. Come find me.

Inside, the air was thick and stale, carrying the unmistakable scent of mildew and rust. Dust blanketed everything, softening the jagged edges of broken furniture and debris scattered across the floor. Once-grand chandeliers, now bent and tarnished, hung from a ceiling that was partially collapsed, revealing twisted steel beams and crumbling concrete. Shafts of pale light streamed through shattered windows, highlighting the devastation and casting eerie shadows that danced with the faint breeze moving through the structure.

Gavin stepped further into the lobby, his boots crunching on glass and debris. Old desk frames and shattered datapads lay forgotten, remnants of a civilization that had moved on—or been forced to. The walls were lined with holo-displays, long since dark, their screens cracked and covered in grime. Somewhere in the distance, the wind whistled through broken vents, the sound like a mournful wail.

He stood still for a moment, his hand resting on the hilt of his combat knife as he surveyed the space. There was something electric in the air, a tension that set his nerves on edge. He wasn’t alone. He couldn’t see or hear anyone yet, but he could feel it—someone, or something, was nearby. His smirk widened. Good.

Spotting the stairwell across the room, partially blocked by a heap of rubble, Gavin moved toward it with purposeful strides. A faded emergency sign hung from the wall, its lettering barely legible. The holo map had placed the cache several floors up, but getting there wasn’t going to be easy. He reached the debris and began climbing, his boots scraping against loose concrete and warped metal. Every movement sent small clouds of dust into the air, but Gavin barely noticed. His focus was singular, his senses sharp. The thought of a cache waiting above—supplies, weapons, or maybe even something more valuable—spurred him forward.

As he ascended, the whistling wind grew louder, joined by faint creaks and groans from the building itself. Gavin paused briefly on a landing, peering into the shadows of the floor above. A feral grin spread across his face. Whatever was waiting for him, it didn’t stand a chance. This was what he lived for.

The climb was grueling, but Gavin relished every step. By the time he pulled himself up to the top floor, his muscles burned, and his breath came in steady, controlled huffs. He dusted off his robes, his dark House Rakghoul insignia smeared slightly with the grime of the abandoned skyscraper. A grin spread across his face as he took in his surroundings—empty rooms lined with peeling walls and shattered furniture, all illuminated by faint light streaming through broken windows. But his senses, honed through both training and instinct, told him he wasn’t alone.

He felt the presence before he saw it. The Force prickled at the edge of his awareness, a flash of anger and desperation barreling toward him. A loud roar erupted from his side, and Gavin turned to see a man charging at him, a rusted pipe raised high above his head.

Gavin’s grin widened. He loved moments like this.

The man swung wildly, his attack fueled more by rage than precision, and Gavin sidestepped effortlessly, his movements fluid and deliberate. The attacker stumbled forward, nearly toppling over the edge of the broken floor. But Gavin wasn’t about to let him off so easily. Reaching out, he grabbed the man by the collar of his tattered shirt and yanked him back, flinging him hard against the nearest wall. The impact sent a dull thud reverberating through the room as the pipe clattered to the ground.

"You don’t get to die so easily," Gavin remarked, his tone laced with arrogance as he advanced on his stunned opponent.

The man, now cornered and realizing his error, swung a desperate fist at Gavin. Without breaking stride, Gavin caught the blow with ease, twisting the man’s arm until he cried out in pain. With a brutal kick to the chest, Gavin sent him sprawling to the floor.

"Only a coward lies in wait with a pipe," Gavin said casually, his steps slow and deliberate as he stalked his prey. His towering frame cast a shadow over the man as he scrambled to his feet, his movements frantic. "Me? I want you to see me coming. Like a storm off in the distance. Inevitable."

Gavin allowed him to stand, savoring the look of dawning horror on the man’s face. The attacker’s bravado had evaporated, replaced by the cold realization that he was utterly outmatched. Gavin drank in the moment, his blood pumping with the thrill of dominance.

The man lunged one final time, his desperation driving him to recklessness. Gavin decided to end it. Catching the man’s arm mid-swing, Gavin let out a roar and slammed his forehead into the man’s face. Once. Twice. Three times. The man’s body went limp, his unconscious form crumpling to the ground in a heap. Gavin snorted, brushing the sweat from his brow and letting the man’s body fall unceremoniously.

"Pathetic," he muttered, as he dug through the man's pocket to grab his coin. Gavin gave it a quick flip before he put it in his pocket and stood up straight, stepping over the body as he resumed his search for the cache.

The room at the far end of the floor caught his attention, a faint glimmer of light escaping through the cracks of the doorframe. Pushing it open with little effort, Gavin stepped inside. The space was small, little more than a storage room, but it was what lay at the center that caught his eye—a durasteel crate, its edges battered but intact.

Crouching down, Gavin pried it open, the satisfying hiss of the seal releasing filling the quiet room. Inside, nestled in a protective casing, was a vibroblade. Its hilt was sleek, dark metal etched with faint crimson lines that pulsed faintly as if alive. Gavin’s grin returned as he lifted the blade, giving it an experimental swing. The hum of the vibro technology sent vibrations through his hand, and he felt its sharpness even without testing it.

"Now this," Gavin murmured, admiring the weapon as the light danced along its edge, "is worth the climb."

Sheathing the vibroblade at his side, he spared one last glance at the unconscious man behind him. For Gavin, the thrill wasn’t just in the fight—it was in knowing that he had emerged stronger, more prepared, and better armed for the challenges yet to come. With the vibroblade secured, he strode toward the stairwell, ready to descend into the chaos below and find his next prey.

 

[Credius Nargath]

Some of the Sith did not feel like they were Sith to begin with, it was unclear whether they were part of the Sith Order or perhaps even beyond it. There were always those who had decided not to take part in the everlasting internal struggle between the divisions, in stead deciding to strengthern themselves, to empower themselves through their own means or through those solely loyal to them. Credius was one such individual, who had long since discarded the pathetic ideology of the Sith in favor of a search for knowledge, a thirst for the endless expanse of the universe beyond the galaxy and the many powers hidden within the darkest corners of this plane and the planes beyond.

Where he had once been a human, an ordinary noble in the eyes of many, he had become something more...something less, a terrifying entity whose very presence summoned up the feeling of cold and despair to those who did not possess the necessary resistance to the latent void within him. While his power and connection to the Force had waxed and waned depending on his body's state, there was no denying that the Lord of Hunger was a terrifying presence to those who held no knowledge of the planes beyond the mortal realm, those who had yet to see the void, who had yet to experience the volatility of the Nether.

Though he usually did not bother coming to such events as this, having little to no desire to look at the weakness and immaturity of so many of the galaxy's force users, there was still the opportunity to at the very least know whether or not there would be those who could show themselves to be talented or worth backing to further their career and elevate their future status not only within the Academy, but beyond.

He listened to the speech of the Chiss, the expectations of the other people being palpable, each seemingly craving for attention from those who were deemed to be the powerful and the strong, yet Credius utilizing his Dolos Amulet once again in order to hide his nature, only found himself looking at the feed, hoping to see at the very least something amusing, turning his attention to his Enforcer standing next to him. "Have you ever seen such a collection of snobbish and inflated egos?"

"No milord, I have not," The massive, hulking figure mumbled, their voice coarse and deep, like rolling rocks under a waterfall. "The whims of the wealthy and the wishes of the woeful will always end up in cries of attention."

"Well said, Pollux," Turning his eyes back to the feed, the Lord of Hunger let out a sigh, he could have drained this entire room just to satiate his hunger, but his curiosity for now had taken the better of him. For now it wasn't that big of a deal that his body was weakening, for his armor managed to support his failing body enough for him to still be more than capable to contend with most of those within that room...bar maybe a few exceptions, but that again, was why his enforcer was there...just in case he needed to do so, the abomination that was the Lord of Hunger, had a reserve snack for himself.

"I heard there'd be people from the Diarchy here," The monster let out a soft, somewhat hollow chuckle, gazing at the others gathered in the room for a moment. "There's always another new upstart group to be found in every corner of the galaxy... curious how long these will last in a galaxy slowly eating itself alive."

TAG: OPEN

 

[Domina Prime]

If You A Demon Show Your Damn Claws
And i'll Introduce The Blood To Flame~
◈
I Was Evil From The Damn Start
I Would Dance on Your Bloody Grave
​

LOCATION: Orinackra | The Ruined City
OBJECTIVE: A Clash of Coins | OBJ2

Kivah | Naamino Zuukamano | Micah tol Powl | Sevrin | Myunnah | Ala Quin | Diarch Reign | Diarch Rellik | Viers Connory | @Madrona A'Mia | Lyssara Thrynn | Credius Nargath | Catronia Byrne | Marlon Sularen | Orys Starwind | Lady Falentra | Orion Pavond | Lodd Grimmin | Chasianna | Taeli Raaf | Lao-ta | Thel Kaan | Ufsa'ynth'aris | Tova Rachi | Zal Aditi | Elim Thorne | Maiza Vex | Itzhal Volkihar | P O D | Lady Nightmare | Leshanna | The Scion | Elmindra Xitaar | Darth Callidus | Gavin Vel | Haro Aven | Lucette


​

As hidden spectator-cameras pan across the broken skyline of Ozzuk Thren, the jagged ruins framed by the blood-red light of Orinackra's setting sun. In the eerie silence of the desolate streets, a soft sound rises—a haunting tune, hummed on the lips of one who knows no fear. Should the audience be observant, with a swivel of the camera, a towering figure would be seen: Prime. Her frame dominates the land, her four arms swaying lazily as if the coming chaos was but a faint distraction.

She unflinchingly strides into the belly of the city-arena without hesitation, her presence more a storm than a silhouette. The holonet feeds would allow for the audience to catch every drop of blood to be spilled. And for those who know her name, know that Dima is no mere contestant. She is an avatar of Kad Ha’rangir, a living testament to the old gods’ savage will. Stripped of beskar, without weapon or shield, she remains undeterred. Her azure claws, curved like scimitars, radiate a power that transcends steel, a gift of her divine cause.

Her footsteps echo in the hollow streets, each one leaving a faint scorch mark on the stone from her talons, as though the ground itself recoils from her touch. The jagged plates of her azure scales glint with a faint bioluminescence, casting an ethereal glow that dances across the ruins. Her Mandalorian Mask, forged in the ancient ways of her kith & kin, bears the sigils of the Destroyer God, its jagged design crowned with dragon-like horns that pulse faintly, as if alive. From beneath the helm, five eyes gleam like molten starlight, scanning her surroundings with a predatory patience.

The Xeno skips forward like a child at play, her long tail trailing behind her dangerously, slicing through debris and scattering dust into the still air. A melodic whistle escapes her mandibles, weaving a discordant harmony into the oppressive quiet. It is not a tune of joy but a siren's call, daring the beasts of the arena—Man, Sith, or otherwise—to face her in the light. Her claws, radiant with a faint, otherworldly glow, drag idly against a crumbling wall as she passes, carving deep furrows into the stone.

The city was a maze of silence and shadows, but for her, it might as well have been a grand stage. As the stillness grew, a primal excitement began to kindle in her chest. A flicker of a memory—some ridiculous holonet song that had wormed its way into her brain during her travels—surfaced. She began to hum, her mandibles clicking with the rhythm, before breaking into an explosive, boisterous melody that shattered the silence of the arena.

“Stop! Drop! And drag me into place...” she sang, her voice raw and jubilant, carrying over the broken skyline. Her steps became lighter, her muscular, scaled arms swinging loosely at her sides. “And lock the fire escapes... I’ll break your pretty faaaaaace. YEAH YEAH!” At the final, drawn-out lyric, she swung one massive arm in a wide arc, claws tearing through the wall of a crumbling building. The structure groaned and buckled, sending chunks of stone cascading to the ground violently which sent ripples through the block. Domina barely glanced at the destruction, grinning beneath her mask as she stomped ahead, talons sparking against the ground.

“Oh. You. Clever little things! The sycophantic teens! What a precious basket case! YEAH YEAH!” Her bellowing voice carried with unhinged glee as she stamped her talons to the beat, carving furrows into the earth. With every word, the ferocity of her movements increased, her laughter punctuating the verses. “Now shut your dirty mouuuuuuuth. If I could burn this town! I wouldn’t hesitate to smile while you suffocate and die!” Her eyes gleamed with manic glee as she spun in place, claws dragging arcs of sparks from the ground. The distant whir of hidden cameras drew her attention, and she snapped her gaze upward, as if locking eyes with the unseen orchestrators of the Trials.

“You, get, everything you want! And money always talks. To the idiot savants...ooooooh yeah~” she sang with a sarcastic trill, pointing one clawed finger toward the sky as though delivering a private jest. She chuckled, pulling out her holomap with another arm, her mood shifting to a playful hum as if nothing had happened. Tucking the map away, she spun on her heel and resumed her carefree skip down the shattered streets, leaving a trail of sparks, claw marks, and chaos in her wake. "Let’s see who else wants to sing~” she whispered, her tone dripping with mischievous delight.

 

[Diarch Rellik]

Tags: Gavin Vel

---

"SOME CALL HIM THE MAD BROTHER, THE SHADOW IN THE NIGHT, THE ILLNESS WITH NO CURE. - BUT HE IS BEST KNOWN AS DIARCH RELLIK" - The Diarch waited for confirmation from the pilot on if he thought the opening would land or not. Instead there was only crickets. "Alright than, tough crowd I guess."

The low shuttle ship that was hired to drop Rellik off in the arena was cruising through abandoned terrain. They were nearing the drop point. "Get ready to jump!" came over the communications to the Diarch. "Get ready to jump!?" Suddenly and abruptly the ship spun around 180 degrees with its side bay door open. The Co-Head was sent spinning from his shuttle to the ground below. landing and rolling several times before coming to a halt on one knee and with his dominate hand holding him up. He stood up, spat out the dust and shouted "WHO HIRED THAT GUY?!" waving his fist in the air towards the shuttle.

The only items Rellik brought with him to the event was his boots, belt, and brown tunic. He stashed his obsidian coin within the belt of his tunic along with his dagger. Before heading further into the decrepit town he pulled out his hollow map to find the nearest stash. The small device, flickering now after his rough fall showed some gear only a few blocks away from his current position, perfect!

He did not try to hide as he moved towards what appeared to be a large skyscraper. Rellik was here to challenge himself. He wanted to be hunted, to fight and win or die. The thought of putting a bounty on your own head was to boring. You knew the hunter was coming. Instead this open arena would be a beautiful proving grounds to see just how far physically he had come. For majority of the event, Rellik would do his best to use no devices and to use the force minimally.

Approaching the worn down tower Rellik could sense passion in the force. It was something he was actively trying not to do but old habits die hard. Someone that burned with a raging fire internally was inside the building. Knowing his first challenge was already above him and was probably moving in on the loot the Diarch wasted no time. He would start climbing the stairs immediately.

After nearing the three-quarters mark up the tower when he reached the landing between two sets of stairs he looked up and saw an intimidating man. Probably around 195cm tall, built like a tank, with the expression and scars to match staring directly at him. A slightly confused look in his eyes had Rellik wondering if he knew him. "Have we met before my hairless wookie friend?" Rellik stated with a snarky smile.

In a show of readiness to fight the Diarch pulled his obsidian coin out, flipped it once, put it back in his belt and prepared his stance for hand to hand combat. Arms up in a Teras Kasi stance and legs spread apart for ease to kick his larger opponent away from him.

 

[Gavin Vel]

Tags: Diarch Rellik

Gavin’s boots echoed against the cold, cracked concrete as he descended the staircase, his newly claimed vibroblade swaying lightly at his side. The building’s oppressive silence was broken only by the faint whistle of wind through shattered windows, but something else hung in the air—a presence. A powerful one. Gavin stopped mid-step, his brow furrowing as he felt the Force signature grow stronger. It was unlike the last opponent he faced. This one was... sharper, more focused, and unmistakably more dangerous.

For all his bluster and bravado, Gavin wasn’t a fool. He had been honing his ability to sense Force signatures since joining the Academy, and while he still had much to learn, he could tell this one carried weight. And something else... familiarity. There was an echo of someone he knew, but the connection remained just out of reach, teasing him.

Excitement surged through him, washing away any hint of hesitation. Gavin leaned against the cracked wall at the edge of the stairwell, his hulking frame relaxed as he waited for the figure to emerge. He didn’t feel fear—he felt alive. The thrill of facing someone stronger, of proving himself against an opponent worthy of his strength, coursed through his veins like fire. If he could take down someone like this, there would be no stopping him.

When the figure finally appeared, stepping into the faint light streaming through the decrepit building, Gavin’s confidence only grew. The man was smaller—though most people were compared to Gavin—but his presence filled the space like a storm. His movements were calm, calculated, and taunting. Gavin’s eyes narrowed as he watched the man casually flip a coin in his hand, as though Gavin weren’t even a threat.

It wasn’t until Gavin studied his features more closely, piecing together the familiar energy in the Force, that it hit him like a lightning bolt.

"Rellick, isn’t it?" Gavin said, his voice confident as recognition dawned. He pushed off the wall, his massive frame straightening as he regarded the man across from him. This wasn’t just any opponent—this was his master’s brother. The Rellick he’d heard countless stories about. The more dangerous of the two brothers, not because of his raw power, but because of his unpredictability.

"Master sure is gonna be excited when he hears I was able to tune up his brother," Gavin said with a smirk, cracking his knuckles as he prepared for the inevitable fight. His confidence belied the tension humming in the air. This wasn’t going to be easy, but Gavin thrived on challenges, and this was the kind of battle he lived for.

He glanced at Rellick, noticing his lack of a weapon or armor. The realization clicked: he had come for the cache, just as Gavin had. "Make sure when you tattle on me you tell Reign I fought fairly," Gavin added, his smirk widening as he unclipped the vibroblade from his belt. With a casual toss, he discarded the weapon, letting it clatter to the ground at his side. "I want him to know I beat you fair and square."

The tension snapped as Gavin charged forward, his enormous frame moving with surprising speed. He channeled the Force through his body, amplifying his strength and momentum as he closed the gap between them in seconds. His fist lashed out, the punch aimed directly at Rellick’s torso, carrying enough power to send a lesser man through a wall.

There was no holding back—every strike was calculated to end the fight as quickly as possible. Gavin’s fists were a blur, each swing fueled by raw strength and the Force. He wanted to overwhelm Rellick, to leave no doubt who the superior fighter was. But as his punches flew, a small part of Gavin couldn’t help but wonder just how dangerous his opponent truly was—and if he might have underestimated him.

 

[Diarch Reign]

Tags: Shan Pellian Elmindra Xitaar Lodd Grimmin

---

His boots echoed on the cold ground as he walked towards to top of the spire. His High Admiral Shan Pellian had accompanied him.

It had been the Diarch’s idea to hold these games on Orinackra, what amounted to the Diarchy’s back yard. A sign of the growing friendship between Korriban and Reign’s own people.

As a gesture of the spirit of the games, the Diarchy was making a showing as well. Members of the High Council in attendance, his fellow Diarch and Brother Diarch Rellik and his daughter Lady Nightmare participating in the games directly.

Turning to the admiral he said
“The politics of the Sith may differ slightly than what you are used to my friend, even though we are in friendly space, I trust you will keep your head about you. It is to our benefit for you to speak directly with Elmindra Xitaar , first lord and admiral of Korriban.”

As they entered into the main viewing area, The Diarch made note of those that had arrived first.
Some he did not know, and others he had some familiarity with.

He made his way to a viewing area, and as he took stock of the arena, he pinpointed those he had interest in. His daughter was set to enter the arena, while he noticed, with a small smile, that Gavin Vel had the distinct misfortune of running into his brother Diarch Rellik

He relaxed into a seat awaiting whomever would come his way.

 

[Thel Kaan]

Amid the barren, crumbling buildings of Ozzuk Thren's inner city, Thel Kaan's unconscious body lay sprawled in the dust. Spectators tuning into the event could see him—a stark contrast to the grandiose introductions of other contestants. For Thel, there were no spotlights or fanfare. It seemed as though he had simply been abandoned here, left as prey for the stronger competitors.

The warmth of the red sun enveloped his body, stirring him from a deep, unnatural slumber. Tranquility gave way to confusion, and soon after, to fear.

What had happened? How did he get here? And where exactly was here? These questions clouded Thel's mind as he struggled to his feet, taking in his desolate surroundings. The streets were eerily silent, their cracked pavement and deserted buildings bearing the scars of long-forgotten abandonment. Despite the apparent solitude, Thel's instincts warned him against lingering in the open. Still groggy and disoriented, he staggered into the shadow of an alleyway, the crumbling structures offering a small semblance of cover.

He racked his brain for answers. The last thing he could remember was a black-market arms deal on the fringes of Sith Order space. He had been waiting for the supplier to arrive with the weapons. And then... nothing. The memory ended there. A setup? A double-cross? None of it explained where he was now.

All he had were the clothes on his back—and this wasn't the first time he'd found himself abandoned on a godforsaken planet. Not that it made the situation any easier.

His fingers brushed against something in his pocket: a single obsidian coin. Strange. Was it some sort of marker? A calling card? He turned it over in his hand, its smooth surface offering no answers. His other pocket held something more useful—a holomap. Activating it revealed his current position within the city and an overlay of dots marking potential points of interest. Thel didn't know who had left it for him, or why, but if he wanted answers, he'd have to move. One marker was conveniently close, just around the corner.

Keeping to the shadows, Thel made his way toward the beacon. It led him to a towering building on the verge of collapse. The interior was no better—the furniture lay in tatters, and the air was thick with the mustiness of decay. The city was dead, lost to time. Yet, one object stood out. In the center of the room, a durasteel container gleamed, untouched by the dust that coated everything else. Its recent placement was obvious.

Thel approached cautiously, prying the container open. Inside was a small collection of survival tools: a bacta spray, an armorweave cloak, a hold-out blaster with a single cartridge, and a one-handed hatchet. He didn't know who had left the supplies, but he wasn't about to question his good fortune. Methodically, he equipped himself with the gear, feeling a small spark of preparedness amidst the uncertainty.

A way out—he needed one.

Then he heard it. A loud, metallic thud echoed in the distance, followed by the unmistakable sound of a scream—a sharp, gut-wrenching cry of pain. Thel froze. It was all the confirmation he needed: he wasn't alone in this hellhole.

TAGS: Open​

​

 

[Karala Midwan]

TAG: OPEN

Karla had come to prove herself to the King of Korriban, Darth Caedes . Her homeworld had since eons long past been the dominion of dark lords, those who had conquered her people, and even interbred with them. She came from a pure blood line and had ambitions of her own, to save her people from the extinction that had begun nine hundred years ago. Back then Skywalkers were walking the stars and making their mark, now was a new galaxy with many sects claiming the right of her people, Tsis or Sith. They believed they understood her culture and traditions, that the dark side revealed itself to her people in same manner as to them.. they were gravely mistaken...

Karla was dropped on to a capsizing skyscraper, it was teetering in the air, not fully fallen. How fitting, an image of her and her people, nearly plunging to the depths of ruination, though holding on, slightly elevated by hope. Hope was not the delusion of the Jedi, it was fuel that Passion built on, the hope that one could make their mark, leave a legacy, and obtain what all true sons and daughters of Bogan want, immortality, "take it its yours." (Achilles, Troy). There her boots slipped on the dark metal of the building, protruding out was shards of stain glass, and debris that she began to navigate using her senses. She had not her Staff Saber, only a mere dagger and coin, that was no matter, a true Sith did not rely on Kyber, they could snap the neck of a enemy or burn them into submission with bolts. Only a fool depended on the weapons they carried to mock and tilt with The Jedi. She wondered how many souls she would have to trample to get to Obelisk, to show the King she was ready to pledge fealty, to put Korriban on the map as it had once been in eons past.

As she climbed down further, she heard something stir below her, her fire eyes looking down to see a figure moving of great frame. Could it be? Was it? She taking hold of her knife began to scale down this half fallen mighty tower to place herself closer to the ground. She knew that there was a battle for coins going on, and that not everyone was in the race to the feet of the King. She tried to be quiet in her steps, to navigate the deformed metals and materials that were about. She had good cover, though her red skin made her visible, that was the curse of her people, they made poor assassins without a mask, and she by the rite of her Clan could not cover her face, the third eye in her forehead a mark that must be scene to tell all that there was still a Midwan left who drew breath...

 

[Lady Nightmare]

---

The Young Woman walked the quiet streets of Ozzuk Thren, slipping from shadow to shadow.
She had come at the command of her father Diarch Reign , bid to test her prowess in what amounted to a gladiatorial arena.

She was nearing the end of her direct tutoring under her Father and was eager to test her strength herself. While not nearly as bloodthirsty as her sister, the young daughter of the Diarch, Lady Nightmare, was eager for combat.

As usual her analytical mind worked, senses open to the environment around her, while she worked to mask her own presence in the force. She pinpointed her uncle, in a building off to her south, facing against the acolyte her father had taken to build his lightsaber.

“How interesting, I would have liked to have found him first. I’ve wanted to know how we compared since we met.” she said softly to herself.

She slipped into the shadows of a tall building, her black robes helping to keep her hidden. While she planned, she pulled out the knife she had been allowed to bring, while not her preferred weapon, she was sure she would find something better.

Pulling her holomap out, she spied a cache in the low building nearby. Making her way there, she sent a mental signal to her uncle. “Happy Hunting, Dear Uncle.”

 

[Diarch Rellik]

​

The man got even bigger as he stood up fully from resting along the wall. His brashness matching Relliks. It was two men who lived to push themselves and loved a challenge. Both smirking while holding a willingness to kill within their eyes.
He sized me up, called me by my name. - "Who is he? Is he stronger than me. Is this me in another body? A stronger body? IM GOING TO KICK MY OWN BUTT!" Rellik wondered if the people in the obelisk had manipulation techniques, clones or some other trick at play.

Than he said it. He said he is my brothers apprentice. This will be payback for Reign bonking Kallous during their training session! While thinking about that bonk Rellik noticed his opponent had a sword and he was trapped with this beast in a small stairwell. Instead of using it though, he accepted the challenge of hand to hand combat. Tossing it to the side. The excitement of the moment now could be tasted in the air.

Than, it what seemed like an instant, a lightning bolt of meat came hurdling towards Rellik slamming him in the chest. The Diarch being a defensive expert barely put his elbows up to guard as the giant fist hit him. Even then the sheer force of the attack slammed his back into the wall. "Oh yeah, THATS THE SPIRIT!" This must have been Gavin. Reign has spoken of his missile before and he must have meant it literally. The shockwaves coming in from the initial and following punches was impressive.

He kept up his assault not giving the Diarch a moment of respite to recover. Luckily Rellik was able to slip, move, and outright block majority of them. As the barrage kept up, Rellik noticed his moment. When Gavins left hook would come up his right hand would dip slightly as Gavin twisted and leaned into his punches. The next left hook that came Rellik sent a chop with his right hand. Years of training had turned the soft meat (hypothenar eminence) under his pinkie into a stone. The attack slammed into the jaw of Gavin.

The attack worked and it momentarily stunned his opponent. Finally having the briefest moment of peace Rellik took the opportunity to hit his opponent with a push kick. He needed to reset this fight and come back on even terms. Once his opponent was a few steps away Rellik positioned himself back in his stance. Ready to start round two.

 

[Itzhal Volkihar]

Itzhal Volkihar strode across the landscape, stripped from the Beskar shell that often provided him comfort and assurance, leaving only the soft silks of a uniform designed solely for the sake of this event. More akin to a funeral shroud than any source of protection, the grey folds swayed with the wind that blew past, a bitter breeze that chilled to the bone and carried the first screams that followed. His head turned away, unwilling to listen further as bone snapped and flesh was torn apart. Their crackling death throes were soon absorbed by the howls of a flesh-warped throat echoing off into the distance.

Itzhal's footsteps pattered across the soft ash of the ruined streets as he pressed forward, choosing a faster path that sacrificed any hope of concealing his tracks along the way. He was acutely aware that with every passing second, he remained vulnerable. The need for protection and weapons of his own pushed him further onwards, closer to the resource caches that flashed upon his holo map, the route already memorised as he dared not take his attention away from the environment. Not when another person or creature could leap from any aperture, the skyscrapers above filled with danger and threats he wasn't quite ready to face as he prepared himself all the same. Despite how new it was, the thin knife he'd been gifted rested comfortably in his grip, produced alongside most of the others and now serving primarily as a backup in case things went poorly.

In the distance, he heard a voice singing as it reverberated off the walls and shattered stonework, an echo chamber worn into existence through time and disrepair. He didn't stay long enough to catch the words, a step carrying him past a shattered doorway, the remnants of plasma scorching melted into what remained of the structure as he passed by, a flicker of blue light the only warning he had before another hunter stepped into sight, then ran past without another look at the building their attention focused upon the glow of the device in the palm of their hand.

Inside, the disrepair carried a stench of refuse and the inevitability of time as dust clung to everything within sight—a few errant footsteps, recently placed, though not within the past few minutes of the events start, suggested something ahead even without the assistance of his holomap. Dark as it was, his eyes still picked up the signs that trailed deeper inside, up the stairs, past a tripwire, and over a faulty tile that would have sent him tumbling down into the floors below.

Towards a lonesome door at the end of a corridor.

Lifting his hand slowly, the blade ready and poised, Itzhal approached the room ahead carefully, a tilt to his feet quieting the sound of his footfall as he took gentle breaths through his nose. A thousand sounds swallowed the quiet as red-tinted shafts of light seeped through holes in the brickwork and glimmered against the edge of his knife before it turned bloody and red as another figure stepped out, their humanoid appearance leaving an exact race difficult to discern in the darkness, as he sidestepped a strike and stepped into a blow that trailed murder across their belly, though their body denied the outcome that screamed in their eyes, a follow-up to the inside of their elbow broke their resistance as Itzhal kicked them to the ground.

A quick check of the corpse brought a similar obsidian coin to bear as he tried to compare them in the faint light.

He stood up with a glance of the corridor before he continued towards the door, a fight rattling against the walls and ceiling as more dust crumbled around them. His steps finally came to an end only as he set eyes upon the waiting cache, a metal box hidden in the corner of the room, buried halfway by a fallen pillar of stone that Itzhal was forced to shove aside, his muscles groaning as he pressed his back to the pillar and his foot against the wall before it slid off.

Inside, most of the equipment he gathered upon his body as he took what would be most useful without slowing him down and threw back what wouldn't. He had a few ways to thin the hoard, after all. As one hand ran along the edge of a thermal detonator, he smuggled it in against the side of the cache, inches away from the door that sealed once again.

Tag: Diarch Rellik Gavin Vel Domina Prime​

 

[Gavin Vel]

Tag: Diarch Rellik

Gavin laughed, the sound echoing through the decrepit building as he heard Rellick’s shout of excitement. This was what real fighting felt like. The clash of skill, strength, and cunning. It was worlds apart from the earlier scuffle Gavin had with the scavenger a few floors up. Rellick wasn’t someone he could toy with or overpower with brute force alone—this was a real challenge, and Gavin was giving everything he had.

When his powerful strike connected, slamming Rellick back into the wall, Gavin’s eyes lit up with excitement. The satisfying crunch of the impact, the way his opponent’s body rebounded—it was exhilarating. Each blow that landed stoked the fire inside him, driving him to push harder, strike faster. But with that fire came the swelling of his ego, the overconfidence that had always been his double-edged sword. He couldn’t help but smirk, thinking he had the upper hand.

And then, in an instant, it was gone.

An open fist shot out faster than Gavin could track, connecting squarely with his jaw. Pain flared as his head snapped to the side, and before he could recover, a foot slammed into his chest. The force of the kick sent him stumbling backward, his massive frame teetering but refusing to fall. His teeth clenched as he regained his balance, instinctively raising his guard.

Across from him, Rellick stood poised, his movements calculated, his breathing steady. The man’s defensive stance was almost casual, as if he were daring Gavin to try again. The taunt wasn’t spoken, but it was clear in his eyes—a silent challenge that sent a thrill of frustration and excitement coursing through Gavin’s veins.

Gavin wiped his jaw with the back of his hand, tasting blood but not caring. "Alright," he growled, his voice tinged with both irritation and exhilaration. "Let’s see how much fun you’re still having when I knock that grin off your face."

He shifted his stance, lowering his center of gravity as he prepared to charge again. This time, he wasn’t going to rely on raw power alone. He needed to be smarter, faster, and more precise. With a roar, he surged forward, his fists flying in a combination of feints and strikes, testing Rellick’s defenses and looking for any opening he could exploit. The thrill of the battle consumed him, and for the first time in a long time, Gavin felt like he was truly alive.

Gavin pressed forward, his unrelenting blows a whirlwind of aggression and power. Each strike was fueled by his fury, his need to prove himself. Was anyone watching? He hoped so. He hoped they could see him, not just fighting but holding his own against a Sith Lord. His pride demanded it—if he was going to throw himself into this fight, someone needed to witness that he wasn’t being utterly manhandled.

His barrage of strikes continued until, finally, one landed true. A vicious left hook connected with Rellick’s jaw, snapping his head to the side and momentarily staggering him. Gavin’s eyes gleamed with triumph. He saw his opening and didn’t hesitate. Lowering his shoulder, he charged with everything he had, slamming into Rellick like a battering ram. The impact was enough to drive them both backward, crashing through a nearby balcony railing.

Time seemed to slow as they fell, the air rushing past them. The building’s decayed framework offered no resistance as they plummeted several stories, slamming into the hard ground below. The force of the landing rattled Gavin’s bones, and a sharp pain lanced through his side. Dust and debris filled the air, choking him as he groaned and rolled onto his stomach.

"Okay, yep, that was dumb," he muttered, spitting out a mouthful of dust as he coughed and shook his head. His massive frame heaved as he pushed himself up, bits of rubble falling from his shoulders. Every muscle in his body protested, but Gavin refused to stay down.

He looked over to where Rellick had landed, expecting to see him sprawled out and stunned. Instead, the Sith Lord was already rising, his movements calm and deliberate. Rellick’s expression betrayed no anger, no frustration.

"Shit man," Gavin sighed as he got back up to his feet and now he was the one with the defensive posture.