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

[Naamino Zuukamano]

Outfit:
Well Worn Boots, Model 6 modular backpack (currently empty), military fatigues
1 black coin, 1 red coin
Tags: Haro Aven Leshanna
Linked in text, Open
[VIBES]

​

Practice, raw athleticism, as well an almost energetic bond between warbeast and rider all played their part to keeping Naami firmly in the moment. He didn't lose his cool, not even when Myunnah reared and it felt like he might be thrown off. All the heavy lifting and training was paying off, his grip stayed strong and he readjusted, hooking the toe of one boot against the strong loop of a lower portion of barding to better pull himself against her flank and peer over her back. Two, maybe three of the damned winged rock things. He gritted his teeth considering his options within the span of a few seconds as Myunnah continued to battle her opponent.

Naami had no fears for the tuk'ata herself. She was the most seasoned warrior amongst them- arguably a living weapon made sentient and with a particular fondness for being served very fine meals by people with thumbs. No, he wasn't worried about her and frankly he wasn't concerned about Kivah either. He was however keenly aware of the fact that those ugly airborne pieces of architecture were far too close to the cache and therefore too close for comfort to where he imagined Micah tol Powl was. The zabrak steeled himself for what he knew needed to come next and began to call upon the dark side once again, pulling from his battle lust to ready another blast. When next Myunnah whipped around to strike at her foe, Naami pushed hard to leap off, landed skillfully in an acrobatic tumble that he then lept up from into a dead sprint. He didn't bother looking up, he knew that at least one of those cursed things was after him.

His destination was a twisted slab of what once might have been industrial roofing which leaned precariously against a pile of rubble. The spot would offer maybe half cover but more importantly would spread their group out a bit so they couldn't just be mobbed or taken out by air based attacks. Naami's instincts had been right on at least that front and he learned it the hot and burning way when fire rained down on his heels. His main antagonist had swooped and belched fire at him, fire that singed his pants badly but thankfully couldn't quite burn his feet through his boots. Naami dove into a slide, twisting his body mid dive to use his shoulder and pack for landing while steadying one arm with the other. A milisecond of pause, a sharp exhale of breath, and the aspiring young Sith fired off another blast.

Though it still didn't cause nearly as much damage as it might against a normal creature of flesh and bone, Naami managed to catch its wing with the wild shot. The creature screamed in rage or pain and spiraled down to crash not far from where the teen slid. Naami shoved himself back up to his feet and took off once more, boots pounding against hard ground as he made to tackle the thing while it was down. One of the creature's kin bore down on him from above, surely readying an attack to make the boy pay for his transgressions.

 

[Shan Pellian]

Tags: Elmindra Xitaar

So, it would not be as simple as Shan had hoped. That was for the best. If the Diarchy was to work with Korriban and its so called 'Holy Worlds', it would be better for them not to be protected by a fool. Shan let a smile cross his face, a small one, quickly hidden by a glass as he took it from a passing server droid. The smile never reached his eyes. Those remained cold, so very cold.

"If we wanted a simple life," Shan said, inclining his glass to Elimndra, "we would have become politicians." It was a poor joke, but one Shan felt was not entirely untrue.

"As for my position, the title means little. Who I am as a soldier is my true value, and that value would be felt as a starfighter pilot as much as it can be where I am now. I am a soldier who fights for what I believe in, who I believe in. Powerful men with a vision to change the galaxy. A change that is so desperately needed. It is their job to pave the pathway for that future." Shan took another sip of his drink, his eyes never leaving the other naval officers.

"It is simply my job to kill anyone who might become a threat to that future."

Text: 797979

 

[Kyorra Pavanos]

Kaalia Pavanos [Makin' Grandma Proud] | Taeli Raaf [GM Things]
​

Kyorra's boots scuffed against the cracked floor of the chamber, her steps faltering as she took in the scene before her. The room was vast and circular, the jagged walls rising to meet a ceiling lost in shadow. A low hum reverberated through the air, resonating in her chest like a heartbeat. At the chamber's center stood a long, weathered table, its surface etched with intricate runes that pulsed faintly with crimson light.

Four empty chairs surrounded the table, each one ornate but battered, as though it had weathered centuries of conflict. Above them, carved into the wall, was a single phrase in ancient Sith script: "Set the table, or face oblivion."

Kyorra tilted her head, frowning. "Set the table? What is this, some twisted Sith dinner party?" she muttered, glancing around for the inevitable trap. The oppressive air thickened as if in response to her sarcasm, the runes flaring briefly before dimming again.

Her hand rested on the dagger at her hip as she edged closer to the table. "Alright, Grandma, what's the game here?" she said under her breath, the weight of Kaalia Pavanos' legacy pressing against her mind. Her grandmother had been the matriarch of the Sith Valkyries, a name whispered with both reverence and fear. But Kaalia hadn't exactly been chatty about what that meant. The Valkyries' laws were something distant, almost mythic—words on datapads, stories overheard in hushed tones.

Kyorra stared at the table, her brow furrowing. The first law was about setting a place at the table. Something about the lost and the found. She paced around the table, muttering to herself. "Help them embrace the dark side, bring them home. Easy enough to say, but what does it even mean? How do you 'set the table' for someone who isn't here?"

The air shifted. Shadows coalesced at the edges of the room, taking shape. Four figures emerged, spectral and indistinct, their forms flickering as though caught between worlds. Kyorra froze, her breath catching in her throat. The figures stepped forward, their faces obscured, but their presence was suffocating, their power palpable.

"You seek the Valkyries' truth," one of them intoned, their voice a low, echoing whisper. "But can you honor the first law? Will you set the table for the lost?"

Before Kyorra could answer, the figures raised their hands. From the darkness, Sithspawn emerged, their grotesque forms slinking forward with hungry growls. The largest of them, a hulking beast with jagged horns and glowing red eyes, stepped into the flickering light. It let out a guttural roar that sent vibrations through the floor.

Kyorra gritted her teeth, pulling her dagger free. "Figures. Nothing says 'welcome to the family' like being mauled by monsters."

The Sithspawn charged. Kyorra met them head-on, her dagger flashing as she ducked and twisted, evading their strikes. She lashed out with the Force, sending a burst of wind to knock one creature off balance, but another lunged at her from behind. She spun, slashing upward, the blade glancing off its hide.

As she fought, the spectral figures spoke again, their voices weaving through her mind. "The table is set for those who are lost. Will you fight for yourself alone, or for those who cannot fight for themselves?"

"What does that even mean?!" Kyorra snapped, her voice strained as she slammed her palm to the ground, summoning shards of stone to erupt and impale a charging Sithspawn. "There's no one else here!"

The largest creature roared, advancing on her. Kyorra raised her dagger, but the words carved into the wall burned in her mind. "Set the table, or face oblivion."

She hesitated, her grip on the blade faltering. What did it mean to set the table? The first law wasn't about her, was it? It wasn't about proving her strength or claiming her legacy. It was about... something more.

Her grandmother's teachings flashed in her mind—not the words, but the feeling of them. The Valkyries weren't just warriors; they were a sisterhood. They brought the lost home.

Kyorra glanced at the spectral figures. "It's not about me," she muttered, lowering her dagger. She turned to the table, her heart pounding. "It's about the ones who need a place."

She reached out, placing her hand on the weathered surface of the table. The runes flared, their light spreading outward. The Sithspawn froze mid-charge, their forms dissolving into ash as the room filled with a sudden, deafening silence.

The spectral figures stepped closer, their presence less oppressive now. One of them spoke, their voice softer this time. "You understand. The table is not yours alone. It is for those who are lost, who seek purpose. It is for the sisterhood."

Kyorra swallowed hard, her hands trembling. "Yeah, well," she muttered, her voice shaky, "you could've just said that instead of throwing monsters at me."

The runes on the table shifted, forming a new pattern that pointed toward a hidden doorway at the far end of the chamber. The spectral figures faded, their forms dissolving into the shadows.

Kyorra stood alone, her breath ragged, the weight of the trial still heavy on her. She turned toward the door, her expression hardening. "Set the table," she repeated to herself, her voice steadier now. "Alright, Grandma. I'll set it my way."

And with that, she stepped forward, ready to face whatever lay ahead...

The air in the catacombs was suffocating, heavy with the acrid tang of sulfur and old stone. Kyorra moved cautiously through the narrow tunnels, her dagger in one hand and her holomap flickering weakly in the other. The faint light of the map barely illuminated the passage, casting jagged shadows on the walls carved with ancient Sith script. Every step echoed, each sound bouncing off the oppressive silence.

She reached a wider chamber, its floor marked with charred cracks and glowing embers. At its center stood an obsidian trophy—tall, jagged, and humming faintly with power. The runes etched along its surface pulsed with a fiery light that seemed to seep into the air itself.

Kyorra stopped short. Her instincts screamed a warning, her senses prickling with the unmistakable presence of something alive and malevolent. As if in answer to her unspoken fears, the trophy began to crack. A deep, resonating groan echoed through the chamber as molten fire spilled from its surface, coalescing into a towering, humanoid form.

An Arqûtai Siqsa, an Inferno Demon, stood before her. Its glowing eyes burned like twin suns, and its molten body radiated searing heat. The demon's voice rumbled through the chamber, ancient and wrathful.

"You dare trespass? Answer my riddle or be consumed by fire."​

Kyorra's fingers tightened on her dagger, sweat beading on her forehead. "Oh, great. A talking barbecue," she muttered, though her voice wavered just enough to betray her nerves.

The demon raised a fiery hand, its voice booming louder. "To pass, mortal, you must answer true. Choose wrong, and your ashes will join the others in these halls."

The floor beneath her feet glowed, fiery script forming a circle around her. The demon's molten hand gestured toward the wall, where ancient runes shifted into a riddle:

"I devour all things, birds, beasts, trees, and flowers. I gnaw iron and steel, I grind hard stones to meal, I slay kings, ruin towns, and beat high mountains down. What am I?"

Kyorra stared at the words, her pulse quickening. The heat was stifling now, as if the demon's flames were already licking at her skin. She ran the riddle over in her head, forcing herself to focus. This wasn't just a test of strength—this was about cunning, about control.

"Okay, think," she muttered to herself, pacing within the glowing circle. "It eats everything... iron, kings, mountains..." Her mind raced. It wasn't something physical—it was something inevitable. Something no one could stop.

Her grandmother's voice echoed faintly in her mind: "The trials are never about brute force. Listen, observe, think."

Kyorra froze. "Time," she whispered. She turned back to the demon, straightening her spine. "The answer is time."

The Inferno Demon paused, its fiery form crackling ominously. For a moment, Kyorra thought she had guessed wrong—but then the flames surrounding the circle dimmed, the runes fading into the stone.

"You have chosen wisely, mortal," the demon rumbled. But instead of stepping aside, it raised its molten hands, twin fireballs forming in its palms. "Now prove you are worthy to face what lies ahead."

Kyorra cursed under her breath, raising her hands as the fireballs hurtled toward her. The Force surged through her, and she summoned a gust of wind to divert the flames, scattering them across the chamber. The heat singed her arms, but she didn't flinch.

The demon lunged, molten claws tearing through the air. Kyorra ducked and rolled, her dagger flashing as she slashed at its leg. The blade barely grazed the fiery surface, but the Force behind her strike sent cracks rippling through its form. The demon roared, the sound shaking the chamber. Flames erupted from its body, forcing Kyorra to retreat. Her heart pounded, her mind racing. She couldn't defeat it with brute strength—it was a creature of fire, an embodiment of destruction.

Her gaze darted to the obsidian trophy, still pulsing faintly at the center of the chamber. It was the source of the demon's power. If she could destroy it...

Or at the very least, subdue it enough to move onto the next set of whatever went for Valkyrie trials.

The Arqûtai Siqsa flared its fiery form, forcing her back with a wave of searing heat. "You cannot escape my flames!" it bellowed, sending a stream of fire cascading toward her.

Kyorra scrambled for cover, pressing her back against a stone pillar. Her breathing was ragged, the heat sapping her strength. But she wasn't here to win a contest of strength. She was a shaper of Kro Var, and the elements were her weapon.

Her gaze flicked to the edges of the chamber, where small pools of water collected in crevices and cracks. Sweat dripped down her face as she focused, extending her hand. The Force stirred, the water rippling in response to her will.

The demon roared again, stepping toward her, its molten claws leaving scorch marks in the stone. "Alright," Kyorra muttered, clenching her fist. "Let's cool you off."

She thrust her hand forward, summoning the water. The pools surged together, forming a torrent that spiraled through the air toward the demon. The stream struck its blazing body with a hiss of steam, and the creature recoiled, its flames sputtering as the water soaked into its molten form.

The demon staggered, its roar turning to a guttural growl. But it wasn't enough. Its flames reignited, flaring brighter than before. The obsidian anchor pulsed, feeding the creature more energy.

Kyorra gritted her teeth. She needed to destroy the anchor. Her dagger wouldn't do anything against it, but if she could focus enough water…

The demon lunged, swiping at her with molten claws. Kyorra leapt back, summoning another torrent of water to force it away. The steam clouded the air, buying her precious seconds.

She turned her focus to the anchor, her hand trembling as she gathered the remaining water in the chamber. The pools rippled, merging into a massive wave that hovered in the air. Sweat poured down her face as she forced the water to surge toward the anchor.

The wave struck the obsidian totem with a deafening hiss, steam and water colliding with fire and stone. The anchor cracked, its fiery glow dimming. The demon howled in agony, its flames sputtering and shrinking as its power source faltered.

"Not so tough now, are you?" Kyorra muttered, forcing another blast of water at the anchor.

The demon let out one last, guttural roar before its flames extinguished.

The chamber fell silent. The oppressive heat faded, replaced by a cool stillness. Kyorra staggered, her legs trembling beneath her, but she managed a crooked grin as she wiped her forehead. The doorway at the far end of the chamber groaned open, revealing a dark passage leading deeper into the catacombs. "Guess that's one way to turn up the heat," she muttered, forcing a smirk.

Her legs felt heavy, but she pushed forward. The second Valkyrie trial awaited, and if this was the warm-up, she knew she was in for more than she bargained for.

The Tombstone Crystal lay ahead, she knew it - she could feel it.

"Alright, Grandma," she muttered, stepping forward. "One trial down. Let's see what's next."

 

[Viers Connory]

//: Lucette //:

​

Viers paused where she stood and thought quietly to herself. A hand rested against her chin as her little mind continued to move through possible questions. She had to pinpoint one, asking the general, 'Tell me everything about you,' which was a bit broad and probably needed to be more appropriate. Since meeting Lucy, Viers had begun to pay more attention to manners and socializing than the other students did on Jutrand. They were considered the elite, cut above the rest, so their manners were pinnacle.

One question continued to rear its head into Viers's mind. Lucy wasn't the easiest person to read, but she was considerably kind to everyone—probably except Kai. Though he was kind of stinky and probably deserved her rudeness. Folding her arms, Viers continued to think, her feet pacing where she stood, leaving them in the thrall of silence. Would it be okay for her to ask the question she wanted? It would answer all her questions about Lucy and solidify where she stood with the girl.

Viers clapped her hands gently, making sure not to make a loud, sudden noise—remembering that there was a wild creature with them. "Got my question," she remarked proudly. Stepping slowly towards Lucy, she swayed side to side, humming gently. Her goal was mainly to build anticipation for her partner. "My question is." She started as her last step took her near the girl and her pet.

"Do you like me?" It was an innocent question from Viers, the girl only meaning it as a friend since that's what she considered them as. The thought of the word and emotion of 'liking' having any other meaning was beyond the young Corellian. After asking, she looked around; the day was ending, which meant they would need to seek shelter and warmth. Viers waited and then looked to Lucy, "While you think of an answer, we should think about what we're going to do when the day starts to end." Nodding, it was obvious the question Viers had asked had no effect on her. Viers knew that she liked Lucy as a friend and as someone important; beyond that, her emotional capacity struggled to define the constant need to be around the girl.

Viers waited, her hands on her hips and her head slightly tilted in curiosity. Anticipation was eating at her as she smiled, hopeful of the answer to the burning question.

 

[Kaivaan Raaf]

Taeli Raaf [Makin' Grandma Proud]

​

Kaivaan staggered into the ruined armory, every step sending a sharp jolt of pain through his body. His robes were torn and bloodied, his breath ragged as he leaned against the doorway to steady himself. The holomap flickered faintly in his hand, marking this location as the site of one of the caches. Weapons, armor—anything to give him a chance to survive the next phase of the Trials.

The room stretched out before him, lined with rows of footlockers and shelves laden with ancient tools. Dust hung heavy in the air, and faint streaks of bioluminescent light glimmered from the far corners of the chamber. Kaivaan's shoulders sagged with relief at the sight of the lockers, but a deep unease lingered in the back of his mind.

The dark side whispered to him, its voice low and taunting. "Go ahead, little heir. Take what you believe is yours. They will tear you apart as they did the others."

He shook his head, trying to silence the voice as he staggered forward. "I don't have time for this," he muttered to himself, forcing his focus on the cache. He dropped to his knees in front of the nearest footlocker and reached for the latch, the promise of survival driving him through the pain.

The locker moved.

Kaivaan froze as the metal surface twisted and warped, the illusion of its inanimate form peeling away. Two muscular arms erupted from its sides, cracking through the air with a strength that sent Kaivaan sprawling backward. His dagger clattered to the ground as the mimic reared up, revealing its true form—an off-white, amorphous mass with glowing streaks of bioluminescence rippling across its surface.

A Qitculea.

Kaivaan cursed under his breath, his exhaustion momentarily giving way to cold dread. More lockers began to shift, their transformations accompanied by wet, slithering sounds. Five more Qitculea revealed themselves, each mimicking the objects scattered around the armory. They hissed and clicked, their humanoid arms flexing with predatory intent.

The dark side's whispers grew louder, mocking his every move. "They are stronger than you. Faster. And you are nothing but a boy clinging to a name you cannot uphold."

Kaivaan closed his eyes, inhaling sharply as his grandmother's voice cut through the storm in his mind. "When strength fails, strategy will prevail. When the dark seeks to break you, use it. Think. Adapt."

He opened his eyes, his grip tightening on the dagger as he scanned the room. The Qitculea were surrounding him, their coordination and hive intelligence evident in their movements. They didn't rush—they were studying him, waiting for an opening. His body was too battered to fight them head-on. He had to work smarter.

Kaivaan's gaze flicked to a damaged electrical panel on the far wall, its exposed wires sparking faintly. A plan began to form in his mind.

One of the Qitculea lunged, its powerful arms swinging in a wide arc. Kaivaan dove to the side, narrowly avoiding the blow. He retaliated with a bolt of Force Lightning, striking the creature mid-attack. The electricity coursed through its body, forcing it back into its natural amorphous state. It writhed helplessly on the ground, its bioluminescence dimming.

They're vulnerable to electricity. The realization gave Kaivaan a spark of hope. But his victory was short-lived as two more Qitculea advanced, their arms swinging with the force of battering rams. Kaivaan ducked behind a nearby locker, using the terrain to keep them at bay.

He reached out with the Force, gripping the exposed wires of the electrical panel and ripping them free. Sparks flew as he extended the wires toward the advancing Qitculea. With a sharp gesture, he activated the current, sending a wave of electricity arcing across the room. The creatures shrieked as the current struck them, their forms collapsing into oozing masses.

The matriarch, larger and more imposing than the others, let out a guttural screech that rattled the walls. Its movements became frenzied, its arms smashing through debris as it charged. Kaivaan gritted his teeth, the effort of maintaining his focus pushing him to his limits. He reached deep into the Force, drawing on the dark whispers that taunted him.

"You are no heir. You are nothing."

"No," Kaivaan growled, his voice low but steady. "I will endure."

The matriarch lunged, its claws reaching for him. Kaivaan sidestepped, slamming the exposed wires directly into its core. The creature writhed violently, its bioluminescence flaring brighter and brighter until it collapsed in a heap, its body twitching once before falling still.
Kaivaan collapsed to his knees, his chest heaving as silence returned to the armory. The dark side's whispers receded, replaced by the faint hum of the sparking wires.

He forced himself to his feet, his body screaming in protest. Turning back to the remaining lockers, he opened one cautiously, half-expecting another attack. Inside, he found a blaster and a lightweight set of armor—exactly what he needed to keep going. Kai was just tired and exhausted, and as he buckled to the ground, he turned to rest against the locker its contents still opened to him.

Kaivaan leaned heavily against the locker, his body trembling from the exertion of the battle. His breath came in ragged gasps, and the coppery taste of blood lingered on his tongue. The sparking wires dangled from the panel, casting faint arcs of light across the now-silent room. The Qitculea's remains lay scattered around him—amorphous, lifeless heaps that no longer posed a threat. Blood trickled down from his nose, he wiped it with the back of his hand. He struggled to keep his eyes opened, amethyst eyes that struggled to focus, struggled for clarity everything seemed to blur.

The dark side's presence, which had been a tormenting whisper throughout the fight, now seemed to deepen, filling the chamber like a rising tide. The shadows stretched unnaturally, pooling in the corners before coalescing into the center of the room. The air grew colder, heavy with a suffocating malice.

Kaivaan looked around and noticed the dagger on the cold ground. He threw himself forward and pulled himself across the dirty, cold, duracrete floor until he could just grasp the dagger with his fingers. The darkness took shape. The Qitculea were gone, but now something far worse had come to claim him.

The shadows formed into a towering figure, indistinct but overwhelming, its edges shifting like smoke. Crimson light burned where its eyes should have been, and the oppressive weight of its presence bore down on Kaivaan, forcing him to his knees.

Its voice resonated through the room like thunder, shaking the very walls.

"You are unworthy."

Kaivaan's jaw clenched, his sulfuric eyes narrowing as he forced himself to meet the figure's gaze. "I defeated them," he said, his voice hoarse but defiant. "I survived."

The figure leaned closer, its form growing sharper, its presence colder. "You scraped through by luck and desperation, boy. You are no heir. No Raaf. You are a pale shadow of power."

Kaivaan's grip on his dagger tightened, his knuckles white. The dark side knew his fears, his doubts, and it wielded them mercilessly.

The figure extended a clawed hand toward him, and the shadows around Kaivaan writhed like living things. Carvings of ravens etched themselves onto the walls, whilst raven-like shadows settled atop the lockers around him. Their eyes flaring with crimson light as if watching, judging.

"Take it," the figure hissed, its voice now a low, insidious whisper that curled around Kaivaan's thoughts. "Take what is yours, Corvus. Prove you are worthy of this name. Or let the shadows devour you."

The name struck him like a blow, foreign yet familiar. It echoed in his mind, resonating with a weight he couldn't explain. Corvus. His father's middle name. A legacy he didn't fully understand. The dark side had called him this before, Kai still didn't know or understand why.

Kaivaan closed his eyes, the dark side's voice pressing down on him like a vice. "You are nothing. A failure. A pretender."

His grandmother's voice rose unbidden from his memory, cutting through the storm. "When the dark seeks to break you, take its power and make it yours. It will whisper of your weakness, but it is only ever a tool. Use it. Do not let it use you."

Kaivaan exhaled slowly, forcing his trembling body to still. The ravens' eyes burned brighter, their glow reflecting in his own amethyst gaze - a gaze that slowly began to shift, from depths of violet, hues of sulfuric yellow began to appear as the dark side's corruption began to seep into his very being. He could feel it.

"I am Kaivaan Balthasar Fortan-Raaf," he said, his voice steady now. The dark figure loomed closer, its clawed hand inches from his face. He repeated this, closing his eyes shut, squeezing them, he knew who he was, he was Kaivaan, not Corvus. The dark side was playing a twisted game and he refused to fall for it. His own logical mind incapable of connecting the dots his grandmother had laid out for him.

The young man staggered a moment, as he struggled to his feet, stumbling backwards his body against the lockers once more. His vision still blurred, Kaivaan stood, every muscle in his body screaming in protest, but his will unyielding. "You want me to prove it?" Anger in his voice.

The dark side laughed, cackled, and mocked him "you are nothing, you will be nothing, you will die here, a failure, just like her, a pathetic waste."

He was so sick and tired of this, his upper lip moved as he snarled, "fine." A low growl from the anger he felt from the continued insults, "have it your way." Kai spat on the ground, "you want Corvus Raaf? You've got'im!" He extended his hand toward the sparking wires, summoning the last dregs of his strength. Electricity crackled around him as he channeled the raw energy of the dark side, directing it toward the looming figure.

The electricity he had unleashed moments ago had only seemed to anger the entity. The room felt as though it had shrunk, the suffocating presence pressing down on him as shadows twisted unnaturally. The figure raised a clawed hand, and darkness pooled within its palm, writhing like a living thing.

A surge of umbrakinetic energy exploded outward, slamming into Kaivaan with an unstoppable force. He cried out as he was hurled across the room, his back colliding with the icy stone wall. Pain lanced through his ribs as he slid to the floor, his dagger slipping from his grasp. The darkness swirled around him like a predator circling its prey, its voice a low, guttural growl.

"You are unworthy," it hissed, its voice resonating with a terrible finality. "You stumble through this Trial, pretending to be something you are not. An heir. A Raaf. You are neither."

Kaivaan gritted his teeth, struggling to his knees as the shadow surged forward. He raised his hand, summoning the last dregs of his strength to form a protective shield with the Force. The umbrakinetic tendrils slammed against it, cracking the barrier but not shattering it.

"Corvus."

The name came again, spoken with venom and weight. Kaivaan froze, the name striking something deep within him. His mind reeled as the shadow pressed closer, its form shifting to show glimpses of memories that weren't his.

He saw her.

A pale-skinned woman with wiry grace, her features framed by tied-back hair. She was clad in simple Jedi robes, standing tall and resolute. Her eyes, filled with quiet determination, burned into him. The image flickered and shifted. Now she was in battle, her scarred face illuminated by the glow of a lightsaber. She moved with precision, her strikes deliberate, her patience unwavering.

The shadow's voice deepened. "She was Corvus Raaf. Your grandmother's sister. A Jedi. A failure. She gave her life for a Code that left her hollow."

Kaivaan shook his head, his breath coming in ragged gasps. "I don't... know- her," he spat, though the words felt hollow. The barrier he erected had begun to crack, and he could feel the shadows slipping through. He couldn't breathe, he was struggling for breath again.

The shadow's laughter echoed through the chamber, sharp and mocking. "But she knows you, Kaivaan. She knows the truth. You are not worthy to carry the name, her name. You carry the Raaf features but you are a pretender, you could never hope to achieve her power, and today is the day you will perish."

The ravens carved into the walls seemed to come alive, their eyes flaring with crimson light as the shadow's voice filled his mind. Kaivaan clutched his head, the weight of the memories and the words threatening to crush him. He could feel her presence now—Corvus Raaf. The Jedi who had upheld the Code at all costs, who had fought for order and justice, who had refused to let the darkness claim her.

"You are no one," the shadow hissed. "You are a pretender, just like her."

Kaivaan's knees buckled, his strength waning. The darkness coiled tighter, threatening to choke the life from him. But as the whispers grew louder, another voice began to rise within him. He didn't recognize it, it wasn't his grandmother's but as he gasped for breath something else happened. A beacon of light emerged behind the the darkness and the following word was uttered: Run.

In a moment's notice, the darkness withdrew, "intruder! He will learn nothing!"

He should run, but that was the coward's way out, and he was no coward.

Kaivaan's trembling hands clenched into fists. Gone from his eyes were the hues of amethyst, in their stead a sulfuric glow in them flaring brighter as he forced himself to stand. The shadow lashed out again, the umbrakinetic tendrils slamming into him, but he held his ground.

"Here's Corvus," he growled, his voice rising.

Valor surged through the boy. The shadow surged, its form becoming more distinct, the features of Corvus Raaf briefly flickering within the dark mass.

Kaivaan roared, the name burning on his tongue. "Her name. My name. I will carry it, and I will prove I am worthy!"

Electricity crackled around him as he reached deep into the Force, drawing on both his rage and resolve. Lightning arced from his fingertips, slamming into the shadow with unrelenting force. The entity shrieked, its form unraveling as the energy coursed through it.

But it wasn't finished. The darkness retaliated, its tendrils wrapping around Kaivaan's body, squeezing the air from his lungs. His knees nearly buckled again, the weight of the attack crushing him.

Kaivaan gritted his teeth, his mind racing as the umbrakinetic tendrils coiled tighter around him, crushing the air from his lungs and dragging him closer to the suffocating abyss. The shadow loomed over him, its crimson eyes flaring brighter with triumph. Every breath burned, every muscle screamed, and the dark whispers clawed at his mind.

"You are weak. Unworthy. Just like her."

The voice grated against his thoughts, threatening to drown him. Kaivaan's knees buckled, the weight of the shadow pressing him to the ground. His hands trembled, bloodied and raw, as the tendrils wound tighter.

"Use it."

His grandmother's words cut through the cacophony, sharp and resolute. Kaivaan closed his eyes, focusing on the tendrils of darkness threatening to destroy him. The power wasn't foreign—it was a part of him, always waiting to be claimed. He drew deeper, past the pain, past the whispers, into the pulsing core of the dark energy surrounding him.

The tendrils faltered, their grip loosening as the storm of shadow and lightning around Kaivaan began to shift. The carved ravens on the walls flared back to life, their crimson eyes glowing as if watching, waiting.

Kaivaan's sulfuric eyes snapped open, blazing with defiance. "You want to break me?" he growled, his voice hoarse but unwavering. "Then I'll show you what I am."

He opened himself to the storm, letting the dark side flow through him. Lightning crackled from his fingertips, arcing wildly as it collided with the tendrils. The shadow hissed, recoiling from the surge of power. The room itself seemed to come alive, the carvings of ravens shifting, their wings spreading as the storm intensified.

But the shadow was relentless. It struck back, its claws raking across Kaivaan's mind and body. He screamed, the sound drowned out by the deafening roar of the storm. The chamber darkened further, the shadows threatening to consume everything.

And then, something changed.

From the heart of the storm, a new presence emerged—a warmth that stood in stark contrast to the icy cold of the shadow. It wasn't overpowering, but steady, like a guiding hand in the darkness. A faint light flickered at the edge of Kaivaan's consciousness, and within it, he saw her again.

Corvus Raaf.

The image was fleeting, a vision of the Jedi as she had been in life. Her pale face was calm but firm, her eyes filled with quiet resolve. She did not speak, but Kaivaan felt her presence. It was not the suffocating weight of the shadow, but something else—something that carried with it a faint echo of her strength, her patience, and her will.

In that moment, Kaivaan understood.

The power of the dark side was not meant to consume him—it was meant to be harnessed, shaped, wielded. The legacy of Corvus Raaf, a Jedi who had stood against darkness, was not at odds with his own path. It was a challenge, a reminder that strength came not from submission but mastery.

The vision faded, but the warmth remained, coiling through the storm as Kaivaan reached deep into the dark side's core. The lightning in his hands surged, amplified by the storm of energy swirling around him. He channeled it outward in a blinding torrent, his voice a roar that echoed through the chamber.

"I. AM. CORVUS!"

The storm exploded outward, a cataclysmic surge of shadow and lightning that shattered the carvings on the walls and sent the shadow screeching into oblivion. The tendrils dissolved, the crimson eyes dimming as the darkness unraveled, dissipating like smoke in the wind.

Kaivaan collapsed to his knees, the chamber falling deathly silent. The ravens, now shattered fragments, lay scattered around him. The air was heavy with the scent of ozone and burned stone. His chest heaved, his body battered, but he was alive.

He pushed himself to his feet, every movement a struggle, but his resolve unbroken. The name echoed in his mind—not just hers, but his. Corvus. It carried weight, meaning. It was a legacy he could forge into his own.

"I will not fall," he murmured, his voice steady despite the pain. His sulfuric eyes glowed faintly, a reflection of the storm within him. "I will endure. I will rise."

As Kaivaan stepped out of the shattered chamber, the faintest whisper echoed in his mind—gentle, reassuring, and gone as quickly as it came.

"Prove it."

A moment passed, and Kai looked at himself with a raised brow, the signature look from his grandmother as he patted himself over. He had been healed his body felt better than ever.

It wasn't the Dark Side this time. It was her. Corvus Raaf.

Kaivaan—no, Corvus—straightened his back, his steps steady as he walked into the darkness beyond, the storm of shadow and lightning now a part of him.

 

[Lady Falentra]

After leaving the man and the girl, her attention had been drawn to smoke. Thick grey clouds fuming above from the buildings surrounded in flames. She watched from the roof of the near by building, having used her long tentacles to swung across the blocks. Imagine her surprise when she found the unmistakable figure of Domina Prime near with a barely conscious man in her arms and another that laid unconscious near chaos. It wasn’t really a surprise, really, she knew what the beautiful titaness was capable off. It had been a while since she seen the xenomorph.

Another lady was at her feet, seeming in worship. Falentra was well aware of the mandolorian’s unique religion. She was clearly a follower of the flame. Falentra made herself known, falling from the building above, but landing gracefully on her feet despite the long drop. It was clear that she was missing some parts of her tentacles, two of them severed at different lengths.

“If it isn’t Lady Prime!” She greeted with a smile. But despite their closeness, Falentra was cognisant of the cameras capturing their every move. If it were in private, she would likely have greeted her more warmly with a hug, or even a kiss.

This was a mess definitely. “Domina, I don’t think these guys are going to survive the night if I don’t heal them.” it was a statement of fact seeing how grievous their injuries were. It was also a request for permission for her to heal, they were her victories after all. Part of her didn’t think it was fair for them to perish here in the arena, of course they had accepted the risk but it would be a waste.

“I can heal them if you’d let me. Are you hurt too?” She asked, stepping closer to the four armed woman.

Diarch Rellik | Gavin Vel | Itzhal Volkihar | Domina Prime

 

[Elmindra Xitaar]

The man’s attempt at humor brought an amused smile to Elmindra’s lips, not because she thought it was funny but because he had revealed just how little he actually knew about her. Before she had acquired her position as First Lord of Korriban, she had been a Marquess of Falleen Throne. In other words, she’d been a career politician for most of her life. She had spent time as a soldier only as much as was absolutely necessary. Her ambitions reached far beyond starfighter pilot, or even Fleet Admiral for that matter. She appreciated the importance of men like Shan Pellian though. Such humility and loyalty was a rare and incredibly useful asset to possess. She made a mental note to congratulate the Diarch brothers on cultivating such a stalwart Admiral.

“Indeed,” the Falleen offered cordially, holding their eye contact with equally cold contemplation. She reached out with the Force for a drink of her own as the server droid passed. Long fingers, nails dangerously sharp and lacquered black, wrapped elegantly about the stem as the glass alighted in her hand. It was clearly a display of power, perhaps more transparent than was common for the noblewoman, but she wanted to make sure he understood he was contending with the will of one of the Force Users he had referenced earlier.

“Your devotion to the Diarchs is admirable as is their devotion to their vision. It is encouraging to enjoy the alliances of those with such ambition. It is due in large part to these alliances that we’ve been able to accomplish the growth of our fleet." She repositioned subtly as if settling into the conversation, an almost predatory curiosity behind her eyes.

“Tell me, Admiral. What exactly has inspired your loyalty and service to the Diarchy?” She asked, taking a sip of her drink.​

 

[Domina Prime]

If You A Demon Show Your Damn Claws
And She'll Introduce The Blood To Fang
◈
Knew She Was Evil From The Damn Start
She Would Dance On Your Bloody Grave


Diarch Rellik | Diarch Reign | Tova Rachi | Itzhal Volkihar | Gavin Vel | Neeva Soocha Dena | Lady Falentra | Thel Kaan | Lyssara Thrynn

Open​

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


The battlefield smoldered with the heat of dying flames and the weight of crushed stone. Domina stood amidst the ruin, taloned feet planted firmly as her massive form loomed over the unconscious body of Diarch Rellik . Her grip on him was ironclad, possessive—a predator unwilling to release its hard-won kill. Her five eyes, dilated to fine pinpricks, focused on the rival Sithling Gavin Vel with burning agitation.

Her tail rattled violently behind her, a warning that resonated in the fractured earth beneath her feet. The air around her seemed to hum with restrained fury as her tendrils slammed into the ground, the force of her stance shattering the stone beneath their weight.

The Sith stepped forward, confidence seething from him like heat from molten rock. His dagger hand twitched at his side, itching for blood.

Domina's lips curled into a snarl behind her mask, her body bristling with primal rage. The tendrils coiled tighter around Rellik as if daring Gavin to take another step. Before she could erupt into a fury of motion, the tension in the air shifted.

From the haze of smoke and ash, a crimson-skinned Twi'lek emerged, walking calmly through the chaos. Her presence brought a strange contrast—delicate, measured, a quiet ripple amidst the storm. Domina's five eyes widened slightly at her arrival.

The Twi'lek approached without hesitation, her soft voice cutting through the venomous air like silk. "Domina, I see your scythe is poised for this man... no doubt a justice... for your judgment is sound."

She kneeled beside the towering Mandalorian with reverence, entirely unfazed by standing between two titans poised for war. From within her robes, she withdrew a damp cloth and began wiping the blood and dirt from Domina's massive legs. It was an almost ritualistic gesture—one that carried a strange, loving weight as Domina lingered above her like some wrathful god.

Domina's tail swayed low and slow as she blinked down at the Twi'lek, her voice vibrating with prideful agitation. "The Godling wants to take Dima's prize away! This one won't allow it!" She snarled viciously.

Gavin smirked. The heat in his eyes flared brighter as his stance shifted. He stepped forward, his muscles coiling like a beast about to spring. "Well…" he quipped, lips curling into a deadly grin, "I guess I'll have to kill you then."

His body blurred as he lunged forward, dagger at the ready—only to falter mid-motion. The energy drained from him in a split second, his steps staggering before his knees hit the ground with a dull thud. The mighty Sith crumpled forward, collapsing into the dirt, entirely spent.

Domina froze, her many eyes blinking in surprise. "…uhhhhhhh… Godling? Ya feelin' okay?" she chirped, the sharp edge in her voice softening into bewilderment. "This ain't some godling mind trick right?"

She tilted her head down at him, nudging his motionless body with one of her thick tendrils. Prodding him once. Twice. Nothing.

He didn't stir.

The silence that followed was broken only by Domina's laughter—an almost childlike, delighted sound that rumbled from her chest. "Aha! You see? Prime's god blesses This One with another victory! It is written in the stars~" She cheerfully proclaimed to Neeva Soocha Dena .

Straightening her shoulders, Domina tipped her nose upward smugly, clearly delighting in the imagined approval of her deities. Carefully, she lowered Rellik onto the ground beside the unconscious Gavin, her tendrils retracting as her towering form came to rest on taloned feet.

It was then that another presence entered her senses.

A lithe figure leapt down from the ruins above, landing lightly amidst the smoldering earth. Domina turned sharply, her five eyes narrowing as she recognized the voice that called out to her. "If it isn't Lady Prime!"

Domina's ears fluttered in delight as the familiar figure approached— Lady Falentra , the aquatic-skinned girl she had seen so many times before. The presence of her bond made Domina's many hearts flutter.

Fal smiled softly as she looked over the broken scene. "I don't think these guys are going to survive the night if I don't heal them, if you'd let me~" she mused, kneeling beside the fallen warriors. Her gaze flicked upward toward the Xeno. "Are you hurt too?"

Domina's tail swished with delight as her ears fluttered like birdwings. "Sweet bond! The stars reunite us before The majesty of mandas Flame~"

Her voice purred deeply as she leaned down, massive azure claws reaching out to delicately trace along Fal's aquatic lekku. For just a moment, her touch was tender, reverent.

And then, in one sweeping motion, Fal found herself hoisted off the ground and crushed into a brutal hug. Domina's powerful arms squeezed her tight—too tight—as she spun Fal in a dizzying circle. The girl's feet dangled helplessly as Domina's laughter echoed across the ruins.

"Rejoice! For Prime is victorious!" she bellowed with unrestrained joy.

But the spinning slowed.

Domina's laughter faltered. Her hold on Fal loosened as her five eyes focused on the girl's lekku—really focused. There were scars. Wounds. Two of her precious tentacles were half-severed, ragged and healing.

Domina's tail stilled, thudding heavily against the ground. Her talons gently cupped the damage, her voice dropping low with dangerous calm. "Whoa, hey, wait a sec~"

Fal winced softly as Domina's claws ghosted over her scars, the Mandalorian's tone sharpening like a blade. "The FUCK is this?" she growled, tail swishing violently. Her five eyes burned as she leaned in closer, the rage crackling through her words.

"Who did it?! TELL DIMA!"

Her claws gripped Fal's shoulders tightly, shaking her with unrestrained agitation.

Domina snapped, her voice a guttural snarl. She loosened her grip only to tilt Fal's chin upward with a single claw, forcing her to meet the Xeno's blazing gaze. Slowly, Domina reached up and peeled away her mask, revealing the raw, seething fury burning in her five eyes.

Her voice trembled with barely contained rage. "Whoever dared to mark you…will feel Primes wrath." Domina's tail lashed violently, the sound like a whip cracking against the dirt. With a final, low growl, she released her friend, stepping back with rigid restraint. "You may help them…AFTER…you explain this~" She cooed softly, the xeno straightened to her full, monstrous height, glaring down at the unconscious Sith before her. Her voice rumbled like thunder.

She turned sharply, her talons crunching the ash-streaked stone beneath her feet as she loomed protectively nearby. Her many eyes never left Lady Falentra or Neeva Soocha Dena , like a watchful beast. At the same time, her five eyes shifted up towards the surrounding ruins. Scanning briefly for any more oncoming threats before walking over to where Gavin Vel had chucked a vehicle at her in the start of their battle. Brushing the dirt and ash away and revealing the Obsidian coin that gleamed int he dirt after she had dropped it before. Holding the black coin up with the crimson one Rellik had relinquished to her. Chittering deeply before stuffing the two coins away in her pocket. Right in the sight line of Thel Kaan as he stalked the scene from afar.

The battlefield was quiet now, save for the ragged breathing of broken men and the hum of simmering rage.

In her mind, Domina knew one truth: this insult would not go unanswered.

Anyone who harmed those who belonged to Prime, would have to compensate. Either tribute, or destruction~

 

[Lady Falentra]

Falentra knelt down to check on the two unconscious men, two fingers gently pressing against their necks to feel their pulse. Their wounds were severe, and the blood loss from the injuries would soon be dire. As she examined the two, she felt the titaness behind her, the claws gently caressing her tendrils. While powerful, they could be just as fragile, two of them already severed and there wasn't many she trusted to meddle with them. But Dima had always been careful and tender with them, handling them with as much as care than she would her own.

Then she felt herself being lifted up, embraced in a tight stifling hug as she was spun around at a disorienting speed. "Dima... we're being watched!" Her words hissed in a whisper-shout, a tinge of indigo flushing at her cheeks, cleary embarrassed they many would be witnessing this display of affection. Although she was almost as glad to see Dima, the battle was being lived streamed, and there was no doubt many drones around capturing this particular area of the arena.

Desperate to preserve her reputation, she activated the network in her head. The advance device CTOii slicing into the systems of any nearby drones, quickly disabling them with a couple of commands relayed. From the skies above, a few of the drones hovering began descending rapidly, crashing upon impact against the ground.

Domina paused, falentra wondered if she was mad about her not reciprocating her affections, but that wasn't it. The xeno's five keen eyes had caught sight of her own injuries, some of the tentacles that she previously fondled with so much care were damaged. And it troubled the titanes greatly seeing those wounds, the wounds that were already healing on its own. "Its fine. Its nothing more than just a scratch." Falentra tried to assure her, the siren's voice alluring as she spoke.

But it did little to appease the titaness' fury. To many others it would be absurd to witness the very being who had brought to men to the brink of death being so protective of one other tentacled alien girl... possessive might be more the word for it. The way Domina made Falentra meet her eye caused a flutter to spark in her chest. Domina pulled away her mask, revealing the all too majestic visage. What others might consider terrifying, Falentra only saw beauty. Someone just as alien and exotic as herself. Oh, how she so desperately wanted to kiss her. Falentra was glad that she had disabled the cameras, only those worthy could glance at her Lady's true visage.

"I had my own battle with a young godling. She took one tentacle, but I bested her... until this man came along trying to save the girl. I fought him as well, but he severed one of them as I was choking him. I couldn't best him." She explained with a slight dismay, she didn't want Domina to see her as a coward.

Falentra didn't attend to the unconscious men first, instead she stepped towards Domina. "Here, Dima let me help you first." Her healing hands brushed against the tall titaness' wounds. Although the was Sith, there were some skills she had aquired from her years training as a padawan, before she had fell barely a few years ago. This were one of the rarer times she called upon the light. The wounds would heal, and the azure blood dissolved.

Falentra would then tend to the unconscious men, healing them as well. Their wounds were more severe than Dima's. Falentra felt herself grow tired, much of the application draining her own energy.

Gavin Vel Domina Prime Neeva Soocha Dena Diarch Rellik

 

[Lyssara Thrynn]

We are now about to climb into a heavily damaged structure, where any false step could cause the structure we are on to collapse. We have moved considerably closer to the surrounding noises and can now get a clear view of the battle. Therefore, we must be extremely cautious from this point forward.

My goal for now is not to betray this soldier; I need to keep a low profile if I am to have any chance of survival—it's better to have allies in this environment of destruction. Speaking of allies, I sense a familiar aura in the distance. Things might potentially get worse.

"Let's check out this weapons cache."

While searching the crate, I find weapons, ammunition, food, and drink; it hasn't been looted before us and the loot is more substantial because we have moved closer to the danger zone. We even found a small lamp to light our way during the night.

"Okay, I suggest that like the other time, we split the loot equally."

So, I divide the contents of the crate into two parts and also notice something interesting. A particular object catches my attention.

I look at the strange trial token; this one is dark in color. It's different from the others—I hadn't had this one yet. In order not to draw too much attention to myself, I decide to deliberately show it to him.

"Look, I found this strange token. I wonder what it could be used for, any idea?"

I have to be careful, as we have moved significantly closer to others, things are going to start heating up. Apart from one person I know here and other members of my faction, everyone else is potentially an enemy.

I continue to take the equipment allocated to me and take a sip of water to refresh myself a bit, and I must say it feels good. We need to ensure we are at full capacity for the fight, or else we risk sustaining serious injuries later.

"We are now in the heart of the battle, let's stay on our guard and hope that everything goes well for us."

Thel Kaan

 

[Elim Thorne]

​

Orinackra
Trial of Ozzuk Thren
Obelisk of Ozzuk
Viewing Chamber and Control Room
Tags: Lao-ta | Elmindra Xitaar | Ufsa'ynth'aris | Darth Caedes | Madrona A’Mia
​

He knew the moment Caedes walked in the room.

Not from the hiss of hydraulic doors opening - not from the sudden quieting of conversation as the whole room turned to observe - not from the subtle adjustments in posture from the engineers, guards, and other administrators throughout the chamber. No, he knew because the moment the King of Korriban put one finely booted foot through the door, the artifact in his pack woke up.

His shoulders stiffened as he felt the awareness rise in the chunk of ancient stone, its sudden sharpness of interest and sense of purpose. It had had a presence before, but a faded one... echoes of purpose, fragmented, hibernating like a seed in winter. Now that seed could feel the sun, and it was reaching, pressing to be taken closer, to take the next step on its fated path.

He half expected every force-sensitive person in the room to turn and stare at him, but this sort of impression from objects had always been more distinct for him than it had for others, and an object with a strong personality wasn't necessarily potent in the Force. Many force-imbued objects were actually more difficult for him to make sense of, like trying to have a conversation on a poorly-tuned comm line, or channeling high-energy plasma through a low-volt capacitor. Whatever receptors he had been gifted with that allowed him to sense the singular purpose, identity or echoes of an item were usually blown out, overloaded when it came to something with actual Force potency. So despite the sudden intensity of the artifact's awareness, no one actually turned to look, or seemed to take the slightest bit of notice.

Easy there, he muttered to it under his breath. Haughtiness, a presence of command in response. A push to action.

He settled down in his seat stubbornly, watching without seeing as the handsome Chiss orchestrator bowed before the king, as the Court of Korriban took their places beside the elite of the Sith Empire. He wasn't going to let some old chunk of stone boss him around, no matter how intricately carved and historically significant it might be. He would act with the time was right - And the right time was NOT, he thought sternly in the Keystone Fragment's direction, anything that would involve interrupting a conversation between some of the most powerful Sith in the quadrant. Keystone Fragment? He hadn't know that's what it was, but he knew it now, knew it as though it were obvious.

He rubbed his thumb across his knuckles, frowning slightly as he searched his impression of the item, hunted through his consciousness for other details. He had a sense of place, somewhere the thing belonged, and sense of the greater whole the fragment had been a part of - something with four spokes? He pressed, but had no clear image of it, just a sense of movement and rotation, of a function and a yearning to be whole, to be seen and to be used by the hand destined for it.

Unknown hours passed as he contemplated, lost in his reverie. On the screens, the contestants fought and dueled, and in the chamber the elite played out their own contest of skills, more subtle but perhaps no less deadly. Elim wasn't out there fighting for his life in the ruins, but he was painfully aware of the fact that the tower in which they all stood was itself inside the arena. How easily he could be tossed from a window if he made a misstep, to plummet to the ground and join the game of life and death below, should he be lucky enough to survive the fall. The image felt ridiculous, but he found it unsettlingly hard to dismiss.

His eyes searched again for Caedes, found him alone, aloof from the conversations that swirled around him, watching the screens in inscrutable contemplation. Elim took a deep breath, and stood. He may not get a better opening. And once the King's attention was drawn to Lao-ta, once the meeting was requested and arranged... well, there was no real need for grizzled old 'Modran Grellik' to stick around overlong. Linger long enough to be forgotten again, and he could take his leave. But first he must dare greatly.

He moved forward, pack over his shoulder, and began to make his way towards the king.

 

[Myunnah]

Tags: Naamino Zuukamano Micah tol Powl Leshanna Haro Aven
Outfit: Nocur Barding
Theme: Wild Thang

Thumbs had held on well, possibly by using his thumbs. Hmm good apprentice. But then he jumped away to run for cover, blasting some sort of bolt of energy at the things flying through the air. As for herself, Myunnah came down like a hunter crashing down through snow at the little prey beneath. Paws together, snout ready to snap, she came down where her own prey should have been, only to strike at the hard ground 'civilization' was so fond of amid the sound of the Nexu dodging away. Huh, that was inconvenient.

Barely a moment later and it was back. With a force of a speeding air-car, it plowed into her side and knocked her to the ground, rolling her as it tried to tear into her underside. Myunnah let it, curling her hind legs up as she bit back and clawed with her forelimbs as the enemy managed to tear open strips across her hide. Finally she clawed her way through the Sithspwan's defenses and clamped her jaws down around its neck, crunching down as her rear paws dug their claws through her tormentor's belly. Rage twinned with joy coursed through her and was broadcasted to all around as she tasted the sweet life-blood of her felled prey. Tearing out the soft tissues in the Nexu's neck, she began to enjoy her right reward when something hit her from the air.

Red eyes turned balefully towards the sky, simmering rage welling up as the Rayijadni's poisoned strikes added to her anger. With a snarl, Myunnah bounded after the Hex Devil that had dive-bombed at her. Springing onto a pile of rubble from a collapsed building front, she leaped into the air after it. Jaws wide, her paws stretched out hopelessly far from her target as they mimed pulling it back as the Force snatched at the thing, pulling it back into her mouth as it screeched. Landing with its leg in her mouth, Myunnah twisted and spun, swinging her hapless victim into the brutallist colonnade lining the street they fought in with a series of bone-snapping crunches. Walking over it, she used one massive foot to cover its chest and press it into the ground. "Die." She breathed out in ancient Sith as she pressed her weight down until one of her raptor-like claws pierced through its neck. Rage still simmering through her, she turned back to Naamino and charged towards him, leaping through the air to take down one of the gargoyle like creatures that had landed atop his shelter to attack him from behind. Her thumbs.

 

[Thel Kaan]

Rising from his vantage point overlooking the carnage below, Thel turned his attention back to Lyssara, who was finishing her search through the weapon cache. It was immediately evident that this haul far exceeded anything he'd found earlier in his time in Ozzuk Thren.

"Oh yes…" Thel breathed, excitement breaking through his usually controlled demeanor. "This will do nicely."

Amid the array of supplies, his eyes landed on a heavy disruptor rifle. He hefted the weapon with both hands, recognizing its make and design instantly. Disruptor rifles were infamous—powerful enough to disable vehicles, penetrate reinforced armor, and, most terrifyingly, vaporize organic matter with ease. The weapon's reputation for destruction was so fearsome that it had once been outlawed across the galaxy.

"This disruptor rifle…" Thel murmured, a grim smile forming as he inspected its sniper configuration. "This should level the playing field against whatever that… thing is down there." He gestured back toward the street below, where the hulking Sithspawn continued its brutal display. "And with this scope, we won't even need to get close."

It was clear Thel had claimed the disruptor rifle as his prize, leaving the remaining weapons and supplies for Lyssara to take as she pleased. Slinging the disruptor rifle over his shoulder, he returned to his perch overlooking the battlefield, keenly aware that the tide of the competition could shift dramatically in their favor with this weapon in hand.

As he prepared for the next move, Lyssara approached, holding out a small object—another obsidian coin. Its flawless black surface gleamed faintly in the dim light, identical to the one Thel had found on his person before the competition began.

"I've got one just like that," he said, fishing his own coin from his pocket and holding it up for comparison. "No idea where it came from, though. Just woke up with it. You think they mean something?"

Thel returned the coin to his pocket, his attention once more drawn to the scene below. Another Sithspawn had joined the fray, its grotesque form illuminated by the flickering fires consuming the ruined street. To Thel, these creatures weren't combatants—they were abominations, twisted atrocities that had no place in the galaxy. His hatred for the Sith, and everything they represented, boiled beneath the surface.

Unwrapping the last of his nutrient tubes, Thel realized just how hungry he had been. The rush of adrenaline from the constant danger had dulled his appetite, but now, with a moment's pause, his body demanded sustenance. As he finished eating, he raised the disruptor rifle, its sniper scope magnifying the chaos below.

Through the lens, every detail of the Sithspawn's grotesque form became apparent. The rifle's weight felt reassuring in his hands as he steadied his aim. He watched intently, his finger hovering near the trigger, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

"Abominations," Thel muttered, his voice laced with venom. "Let's put them down where they stand."

Lyssara Thrynn Domina Prime Lady Falentra Diarch Rellik ​

​

 

[Leshanna]

Tags: Kivah // Naamino Zuukamano // Micah tol Powl // Myunnah // Haro Aven ​

Leshanna glanced behind her and saw Kivah, Naamino, and the Tuk’ata battling it out with…whatever it was they were attacking. None of her allies looked injured, as far as she could tell - but that might change. Her attention turned back to what was ahead of her…namely the cache of supplies.

What if the only healing supplies, true weapons and armor, or even the means with which to defeat their enemies…was within this building somewhere? What if…the three down below needed Micah and her to get to the cache, in order to defeat their invisible foes?

A sense of urgency came over the girl, and she surged onward. As she went though, she felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. She felt as if something was…off. A warning seemed to flicker through her senses - and her eyes darted to one of those strange statues…as it came to life, unfurling massive wings as a demonic looking monster leapt into the air, releasing a haunting cry that sent shivers of ice down Lesh’s spine.

As soon as it moved - so did others, and fear and adrenaline dumped through the girl.

She was outside, and exposed. She needed to get inside the building, somewhere and somehow - where these creatures couldn’t follow, or at least would have a hard time with their massive wing spans. They looked lethal, and she gripped her dagger tipped spear in her one hand. Looking at it, then looking at the creatures, made her wonder just how she was going to fend them off with just…that.

You have the Force too, ya dummy. You haven’t been going through your lessons and your practices for nothing. Use the knowledge you have on hand too!

Strangely, it seemed that most of the flying devil-looking creatures were focused on the fight taking place below and while Lesh was happy that they weren’t focused on her or Micah, she did feel a pang of concern for the misfortune of her other allies. Besides invisible monsters, they now had to deal with giant flying beasts.

But - seemed her luck wasn’t all that great, as the last remaining “statue” moved, and looked directly at her, and seemed to prepare itself to launch into the air in order to better reach her.

Chit….chit chit chit - ran the thought through her mind as she scrambled to move further up the rubble and into the building. The creature unleashed its cry, and Leshanna cast one more look back at it as she grimly realized she was probably going to have to fend it off while trying to find an entry point that would take her to the cache.

And that was when she saw a smallish figure dash, then leap, and land upon the back of the winged beast just as it launched itself into the air. The girl was too stunned for a moment to do anything except stare, as a humanoid figure clung to the handle of their dagger - which was buried deep into the shoulder of the monster. The blade seemed to affect the muscles that powered one of its wings, and the beast screeched in pain as it began to lose altitude. Leshanna realized quickly that if it didn’t correct its course, then it was going to crash near to where she was. She quickly pulled herself onto a ledge, and ducked out of the way just as the winged devil and its unwanted rider smashed into it with enough force to shake the entire building. Its rider - a lanky human boy from the looks of it - tucked and rolled away before quickly rising back on his feet to face the creature as it pulled his knife from its flesh with an angry growl, tossing it aside before turning its attention to the boy.

For her part, Leshanna was frozen against a crumbled wall not too far away from beast and boy, her eyes wide and chest heaving as she realized they were probably going to have to fight this creature here - as it was now blocking the only way forward that led towards some stairs that would lead them higher up into the building. The ledge they were on was a partially sheared off wall and room, with half a ceiling still remaining. If they could manage to entice the creature further in, it would have no room to fly or stretch its wings…

Wait…its wings! It wouldn’t be able to fly well if they were damaged!

Lesh gripped her make-shift spear tighter, eyeing the closest wing to her. So far the devil didn’t seem to be aware of her anymore, or at least wasn’t focused on her, and she used that to her advantage as she gathered her courage.

“Hey! Kid! I’ll try to distract it!” she called to the newcomer, before zipping forward to try and put as many holes and slices into the thin membrane of its wing as she could. Her surprise attack was enough to pull the creature’s attention to her as her knife sliced through the membrane and it wrenched its wing away, forcing her to jump away to avoid being smacked by it. The devil snarled at her, its eyes glowing malevolently, as Lesh cast another glance towards the newcomer.

“If we can wound its wings enough, then it won’t be able to fly and we can tackle it on our level! Unless you have a better idea on how to fight this damn thing!” she called out to the boy. At least, that was her hope. She really had no idea what this creature was capable of. But it was too late to really ponder on that - the fight was here and happening now.

 

[Lucette]

Viers Connory​

Lucette blinked, caught entirely off guard by the question. Her hand, still resting gently on the Sithspawn's muzzle, stilled as her mind scrambled for an answer. Viers stood before her, swaying slightly with that easy, chaotic energy she always seemed to carry. The innocent sincerity in her question made Lucette's chest tighten. Do I like her? The answer felt obvious—painfully so—but putting it into words was something else entirely.

She cleared her throat softly, brushing a stray curl behind her ear as she searched for the right way to respond. "That's… quite the question, Viers," she began, her voice steady but laced with a nervous undertone. She hesitated, her eyes flickering to the Sithspawn for a moment as if seeking its counsel before returning to Viers.

Lucette stepped closer, her expression softening as she studied the Corellian's face. Viers was standing there with her hands on her hips, her head tilted in that curious way, her smile full of hope and something else Lucette couldn't quite put into words. It made her heart ache and swell all at once.

"I do like you, Viers," she said finally, her voice quieter now, almost hesitant. "But it's… it's not quite that simple, is it?" Her hand fell to her side as she struggled to articulate the swirling feelings in her chest. "You're not just someone I like. You're… important to me. In a way that's hard to explain."

She laughed softly, a little self-conscious. "You're Viers," she said as if that explained everything. "You're chaotic and clever, and you make me laugh when I least expect it. You're… you. And I'm not sure what to call what I feel, but yes, Viers, I do like you. A lot."

Lucette paused, her cheeks flushing slightly as the weight of her words settled between them. "But," she added quickly, her tone turning practical to mask her vulnerability, "you're absolutely right about needing to find shelter before nightfall. So, let's think about that while I try to figure out how to stop sounding like a complete fool."

She gave Viers a small, bashful smile, her usual composure faltering just enough to reveal the depth of her emotions. "Does that answer your question?"

 

[Haro Aven]

TAGS: Leshanna | Kivah | Micah tol Powl | Naamino Zuukamano | Myunnah |_.
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Entirely focused on trying not to die, Haro hadn't noticed that the dark haired girl he'd seen before was on the ledge with him until she shouted "Hey! Kid! I'll try to distract it!" and rushed the gargoyle. Thank the Force she did too because the creature was just starting to gather a malevolent sphere of dark energy in one hand for an attack that undoubtedly would have meant the young mechanic's untimely and horrific demise. In an impressive show of bravery and fiery determination, the petite girl tore into a wing with her spear, further rendering the already damaged appendage unusable and disrupting the creature's aim. Her distraction allowed Haro to dive into a dodge roll as the Bolt of Hatred preemptively shot out toward him. The sphere, a miasma of pure annihilation – corrosive and insatiable, just missed Haro as it shot out toward where he'd been standing, tore through the crumbling wall behind him and into the building. The sudden loss of mass caused the building to rumble as slabs of duracrete shifted to compensate. Propelled from the momentum of his roll, Haro bolted for his dagger. He slid under the angry beast's other wing as it swung wide, snatching the blade up off the ground and scrabbling to his feet while chunks of duracrete tumbled down around them.

"If we can wound its wings enough, then it won't be able to fly and we can tackle it on our level! Unless you have a better idea on how to fight this damn thing!"

"Good thinking!" Haro exclaimed, brandishing the dagger in a trained stance as he eyed the yet unharmed wing.

Pained and enraged, the creature suddenly lashed out at the girl with fiery tendrils of Force intent on binding and drawing her closer. Haro acted on impulse, his lightning fast reflexes closing the distance between himself and the creature, getting in a quick upward slice that bit into its forearm followed by a downward stab straight through the wrist of the hand wreathed in blue fire. He'd succeeded in forcing the Fiery Energy to retreat from the girl but he'd opened himself up for a body shot that sent him flying. He hit the crumbling wall so hard it stole the air from his lungs but he managed to catch himself on hands and knees as he struggled to catch his breath. The back of his head felt numb and he blinked away the stars floating in his vision. He looked up to find dust and pebbles falling from a slab of loose duracrete balanced precariously in the header of a doorway to inside the building. The doorway looked like it was narrow enough to be a struggle for the large creature to get through. Maybe it could buy them some time or, better yet, maybe the enraged gargoyle would loosen the heavy slab in its effort to get to them. Haro was back on his feet and at the girl's side in moments, offering to help her inside if she looked like she needed it, but nonetheless motioned for her to follow him through the doorway.

"Quick, this way!" He said, pulling her inside.​

 

[Naamino Zuukamano]

Tags: Kivah Leshanna Micah tol Powl Haro Aven​

Raking, opportunistic claws narrowly missed Naami's back as he dashed toward the downed creature while its kin sought retribution. He hardly had time to register Myunnah or her incredible leaping swipe because his adrenaline honed mind had one goal: ground his current opponent permanently.

The zabrak tackled his foe with a swing of the knife he'd pulled from his belt. The thing shrieked again, thrashing against the teen's weight on its already damaged wings. Naami used some of the hand to hand tactics he'd picked up recently, leveraging his hold against his opponent's own weight to grapple its upper body. One strong, calloused hand cruelly gripped the edge of one floundering wing as his other gripped the blade tightly. With a defiant roar of his own he brought the knife down once, twice, a punching third time, aiming for the joint where wing met shoulder.

Corded muscles along Naami's neck and shoulders bulged as one arm pulled gruesomely at the wing while his hand with the knife pushed hard against stoney flesh. Suddenly there was a tearing squelch and the creature screamed as Naami tore its wing from its body. He was mindless with the heat of battle by then and continued to savage the thing with pummeling fist and keen blade.

It was all happening so fast and Naami's bloodlust was up, his naturally high pain tolerance as a zabrak further emphasized by his use of the Force. So he didn't notice until after he rolled away from his twitching opponent that it had landed several raking blows against his ribs and a leg before it died. Nevertheless he didn't stop moving, growling through clenched teeth as he pushed past the tremor of pain which threatened to cause a limp.

Gore spattered as if someone had flicked an industrial sized paintbrush in his direction, Naami signaled to Myunnah . Blue-black ichor looked enough like war paint decorating his tattooed face as he leapt back onto the warbeast's back, surely seeking their next victim or an ally to better support.

 

[Ufsa'ynth'aris]

"To stumble is only natural; however to make that stumble appear deliberate is the providence of true artists."​

―Ufsa'ynth'aris, on the art of showmanship.​

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Wild Space
Orinackra System
Ruins of Ozzuk Thren
Day One— Elmindra Xitaar Shan Pellian Diarch Reign Diarch Rellik Tova Rachi

The chamber around Syntharis buzzed and flashed—technicians adjusting camera feeds, strategist's chatter, and attendants moving with quiet efficiency to keep the spectacle seamless. Syntharis observed it all with an air of detached elegance, his hands clasped behind his back.

The Games began with the releasing of its participants into the arena of Ozzuk Thren. He watched as warriors and survivalists, Jedi and Sith alike, scattered throughout the ruinous city, down into its labyrinthine depths or the fringes of Ozzuk's swampy outskirts. Imbedded recorders and whirring cam droids raced to project that live feed to countless billions. Picking early favorites, donors from around the galaxy began to pledge their credits to Ozzuk's production company. Afterwards, just like chrono-work, those numbers skyrocketed and the wealth began to pour in.

In the heart of the central city, the clash between Diarch Rellik , his brother's apprentice Gavin Vel , and the Mandalorian warrior Itzhal Volkihar , against Domina Prime , became one of the day's first true spectacles.

As the day progressed, Taeli Raaf initiated the release of the Game's much anticipated Sithspawn monsters. He watched as the creatures, hideous and cunning predators, were unleashed into the arena. Their first kills were brutal, efficient, and broadcast in excruciating detail, ensuring the audience remained riveted, the stakes high, and catering to the feed's more bloodthirsty big-fish beneficiaries. Some of these creatures fell quickly, overwhelmed by skilled or well coordinated participant-groups, which Syntharis knew would become favorites later on. Gradually, contestants began to distinguish themselves, forming roving packs built on uneasy alliances. Many survived by spreading out into the wilds and shadowed places, drawing upon nonviolent skills to stay alive. Syntharis noted it all from behind a cool gaze, dispassionate in the face of such monetized Death Games as these. He was not the type to speak often, content to delegate or dream in the bigger picture as holovised peril played out around him.

Tensions in the Obelisk's administrative spire heightened as the Diarch's daughter, Lady Nightmare, was ambushed and accosted by a deadly Sithspawn calling herself Lady Falentra . Syntharis noted the shift in the room's atmosphere as Reign watched, growing disturbed. Finally, the man's mask of charisma shattered and, rather abruptly, he left the Obelisks's administrative spire—joining the Survival Games, albeit in an unorthodox manner.

Presently, Syntharis' gaze drifted to the King, who had by now seated himself above the gallery. Caedes' face was inscrutable as ever, dark robes catching the faint glow of distant holoscreens at the room's center. His expression betrayed no reaction to Reign's departure, but his gaze too met with Syntharis'.

Turning his attention more fully to Darth Caedes , Syntharis broke the room's silence.

"A bold move," he implied, a measured tone laced with the faintest curiosity.​

"Abandoning the Obelisk like that," he explained, as if talking about the weather.​

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[Darth Caedes]

"In every mistake lies opportunity."
—Darth Caedes, ruminations...​

Wild Space
Orinackra System
Ruins of Ozzuk Thren
Day 1 — Diarch Reign Diarch Rellik Taeli Raaf

The King's gaze did not waver from the central feed displaying the ruinous battle below. After a moment, he inclined his head slightly, his voice sounding grim and thoughtful.

"Love blinds the wise. It ensnares the strong, and lays low the proud," he said, as if reciting.​

"It is the perfect snare." ​

Ufsa'ynth'aris grinned, nodding his head in concession to the King.

"And in this case," he suggested in sing-song, "I believe it just snared us the Lord... Diarch Reign."​

"Indeed," agreed Caedes.​

Just like that, the lives of both Diarchs rested, fragile, in the palm of his hand.

"Shall I... pull cams?" asked Syntharis, still smirking.​

"No," responded Caedes, again thoughtful.​

"When we wish to know our enemy," he counseled, "we force them into danger. To know our ally, however, let them lead themselves."​

Caedes gaze fell to Madrona A’Mia where she stood nearby.

"Lord Seer," he summoned.​

"Let us... get to know our friend, the Diarch...!"​

 

[Spirit of Korriban]

[END DAY 1]
​

As day one of the Survival Games of Ozzuk Thren came to a close, participants scattered into the night, taking shelter and refuge wherever safe. Some form roving bands, patrolling the ruined city streets and hugging the shadows, tied together with little more than uneasy alliances and false promises. Sounds of screaming, disturbing shrieks and monstrous howls, haunt the night. There is no safety in the darkness. Along portions of the arena outskirts, toxic rains and acid mists corale contestants into conflict with one another, robbing them of their much needed rest for the sake of bloody entertainment. Cam droids and administrative personnel work tirelessly in the Obelisk of Ozzuk, continuing to facilitate the program's live feeds to the hungry galaxy-wide audiences.
​

[Begin Day 2]​

As the tired sun rises over their ruined city arena, and the terrors of the night recede, contestants rise again to meet day 2 of the Survival of Ozzuk Thren. Around the arena, cam droids pick up the yawning faces of warriors as they take stock of their surroundings, feed themselves, strap on their scavenged armor and prepare for more blood.

OOC: Please feel free to continue any and all story-beats for day 1. Administrators Taeli Raaf Darth Caedes will progress story for those interested in beginning day 2. Happy coin hunting!

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To Whom It May Concern:

• 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