Populate Suspicious Minds | Sith Order [Alzoc III & Lonesome]

[Serina Calis]

Suspicious Minds
Location: Jutrand
Objective: 1
Allies: ???
Opposing Force: Trayze Tesar Drazen Lutris Allyson Locke Sable Varro Lirka Ka
Tags: ???

"Lets play a little game..."​

Serina turned the stone eye slowly in her hand, letting the whispered directives coil around her mind like a well-placed noose. The game was already in motion, and she, as always, would dictate its tempo.

Her gaze flickered across the room, resting first on Trayze Tesar and Allyson Locke—two pairs of eyes that had spent too much time peering into the shadows. Their presence here was more than coincidence; she had evaded their scrutiny before, but only fools grew comfortable in the presence of predators. And Serina Calis was not a fool.

She did not flinch as Lirka Ka entered the scene, though she noted the clank of the Once-Sephi's boots with measured interest. Lirka was fire—untamed, furious, and volatile. A weapon with no sheath. Serina had no illusions that the woman loathed her, that the history between them burned in her heart like an ember waiting for air. She would tread carefully, keep the spark contained—until she could decide whether to extinguish it or fan it into something useful.

And then there was Sable—the ever-present shadow at her back. The loyalty was there, but loyalty was a thing that could be frayed, weakened, tested. It was best to keep a watchful eye even on the devoted.

Drazen's announcement was a masterstroke of distraction, a thread woven into the night's tapestry to push the game forward. A murder—a manufactured one, of course, but that hardly mattered. The moment an 'investigation' began, people would start revealing their hands. And Serina would be watching every single one of them.

She moved, a graceful specter slipping between the gilded elites, letting them part for her without so much as a word. The armored bodice and draping magenta-lined cloak made her a presence in the room—one that could not be ignored. Her voice was honeyed silk as she spoke.

"A murder so early? I would have thought we'd at least get through the first round of drinks before someone turned up dead." A soft smirk, as if the absurdity of it all amused her. "And a princess, no less. What a tragedy."

She made no move to volunteer herself—why should she? The ones eager to take center stage would be far more useful to her from the sidelines. And indeed, Allyson stepped forward, taking the bait with calculated bravado. Trayze followed suit, slipping into the role of the charming fool.

Good. Let them handle the spotlight. Let them commit. Let them believe they are in control.

She inclined her head slightly, as if in approval of their willingness to engage.

"How fortunate that our dear Sith-Princess Porkstein has such eager defenders of her legacy. A more cynical mind might wonder why our investigators are so quick to step forward, as though eager to control the narrative."

A simple, pointed observation. A seed.

Let them stew in it. Let the others begin to wonder. If doubt could be planted here—just the faintest hesitation in how much trust was given to these 'investigators'—then her work had already begun.

Her gaze slid toward Lirka, watching the tension coil in the Once-Sephi's stance like a beast waiting for a reason to strike. She would not provoke her. No—she would offer something sweeter.

She stepped closer, lowering her voice to something only Lirka would hear. "You're enjoying this already, aren't you?" A smirk. "A game of deception, of whispered lies. It's a change of pace for you."

Flattery, yes—but not the empty kind. Serina did not insult someone like Lirka with false praise. She merely let her believe that they had something in common.

And finally—Sable. Her shadow, her blade in the dark, her enigma. Serina turned to her at last, her expression unreadable. A quiet command laced her words, though they remained veiled in silk.

"Stay close."

That was all she needed to say. Sable would understand. The night was still young, but Serina had already begun to move the pieces.

 

[Reicher Vax]

Suspicious Minds
Equipment: Standard Issue Sith Trooper Armor, Vibroblade, Standard Issue Blaster Rifle, Datapad, Cloak
Tag: Darth Meritum Taeli Raaf Adeline Noctua

"Do your duty."​

The doors to the balcony hissed open, a breath of air escaping the chamber as the assembled council turned in silent anticipation. The heavy, deliberate thud of armored boots against marble followed, each step an announcement of authority, an unspoken declaration of presence.

Reicher Vax entered as a warrior, his form clad in the crimson-and-black durasteel plates of the Sith-Imperial Grand Military, polished yet weathered by battle. The armor bore the etchings of past victories, the subtle engravings of campaigns fought in the Emperor's name. His helmet remained on, the crimson glow of his visor sweeping across the gathering like the gaze of a war machine calculating its next engagement.

Behind him, his soldiers followed, disciplined and silent as specters of war, their black-plated armor bearing the insignia of the First Legion—a reminder that while Reicher had been given influence over the Third, he had bled for the First. Their presence was not to intimidate, but to ensure that every man and woman in this chamber understood the gravity of what was to be decided.

Reicher's mind was still on the conversation he had shared with Serina moments before. The Dark Jedi had been in rare form—jovial, sharp-tongued, teasing him in that way she always did, as though she were testing the limits of his patience and affection all at once. She was his sister-in-law, but more than that, she was his family, and they shared a bond that few in the Sith Order could claim: genuine love, uncorrupted by politics or ambition.

Their exchange had begun as a game of wits, laced with banter and old memories, before shifting to something far more serious. Plans for the war. For the Third Legion. For the coming storm that would engulf the Core Worlds. She knew the stakes as well as he did. He had left her with a promise—he would make the Third Legion something that even she would respect.

And now, here he was.

As he moved toward the heart of the discussion, his gaze flicked across the gathered figures. Powerful minds, dangerous ones, each with their own designs for the Third Legion. He recognized few of them, but that would change.

But what he did not see was the very man who had charged him with this task.

Reicher stopped for a moment, the weight of the absence striking him like a sudden blaster shot. He turned his helmet toward the gathered Sith and spoke, his voice a commanding baritone filtered through the modulator of his helm.

"Where is Darth Malum?"

The words hung in the air, drawing the attention of the room. Lastingly loud, as if the words were a guillotine that had just dropped on sudden notice. Reicher had expected him to be here—this was his project as much as it was Reicher's, and yet, the seat he should have occupied remained empty.

He narrowed his eyes behind his visor, adjusting his stance. A missing superior meant either a shift in plans… or an opportunity.

Reicher continued forward, coming to stand before the assembled council, his soldiers taking their place behind him, standing at rigid attention. He did not sit—not yet. Instead, he let the moment settle, his armored frame imposing but respectful, a warrior standing before the architects of war.

When he spoke again, his voice was steady, deliberate, and left no room for misunderstanding.

"I am Captain Reicher Vax. Governor of Polis Massa. Ranking officer of the Grand Military. I have been charged by Darth Malum with the formation of the Third Legion."

"I do not know, what official capacity it gives me over the Third, but I intend to see it to the end."

"It is my duty."

The words carried weight, and he let them linger, giving the gathered Sith, corporate leaders, and military officials time to adjust their perceptions of him. He was not merely an observer. He was not here to debate what the Third Legion could be.

He was here to decide what it would be.

Finally, he took his seat, the black metal of his gauntlets resting on the table, his fingers interlacing as he turned his attention to those assembled.

"Let's begin."

​

 

[Sable Varro]

​

Suspicious Minds

Objective: One
Mission Classification: [Confidential]

Personnel Involved:

• Primary Operative(s):
• Supporting Units: Trayze Tesar , Drazen Lutris Allyson Locke
• Allied Contacts: Serina Calis
• Hostile Forces: Lirka Ka

Deployment Location:

• Primary Target Zone: [Jutrand]

Equipment Loadout:

• Primary Weapon(s): SD-L1 Long Blaster
• Secondary Weapon(s): HG-88 Big Iron, VB-113 "Tidefall" Class Vibroblade,
• Specialized Gear: Wrist Mounted Weapons (Hekler'Kok WMMW-01), DS-102 "Aegis" Personal Energy Shield,
• Armor & Attire: Personal Armor

---

---

​

Sable's eyes didn't leave Serina the entire time.

Not when she held the stone eye like a talisman spun from something older than even her games. Not when she let words drip with that honeyed silk and stitched tension into the air like a tailor with poisoned thread. Not even when she turned her gaze to others—because Sable was always watching, even when Serina wasn't looking her way.

Her posture was quiet, composed, but in the flickering lowlight of the room, she looked more like a shadow carved into flesh than a woman. Cloak draped loose, gloved hands resting lightly near the knife she hadn't been asked to draw yet. That was the thing with Serina—she didn't need to ask. Her intent always rang louder than her voice.

Sable caught the flick of Serina's eye toward Lirka. She didn't shift, didn't tense. She'd seen storms with quieter beginnings than that one. The Once-Sephi's temper was a weapon in its own right, but Sable wasn't here to shield Serina from fire. She was here to watch who burned first—and whether Serina would light the match herself or just smile while someone else did it for her.

And then came the words. Simple. Direct.

"Stay close."

Sable nodded once. Nothing more.

But beneath the stillness, her mind moved like a blade testing angles in the dark.

Stay close wasn't just proximity. It meant: Move when I don't. Listen for what I don't say. Measure who falters. It meant: Be the silence that makes them uncomfortable.

She stepped subtly into orbit beside Serina again, calm, unreadable. Just where she belonged.

And without looking, she finally spoke—low, quiet, just for Serina's ear.

"I already planned on it, Serina."

And behind her eyes, a quiet flame began to stir. Not loyalty. Not obedience. Something colder, sharper.

Purpose.

 

[Darth Umbra]

"Lord Umbra," she replied, her voice calm and measured. "You may call me Chairman, as it is a title that reflects my current responsibilities. Familiarity does not suit the gravity of our roles, don't you agree?" ​

"Hmm," Umbra exhaled as Elane II of Kuat responded. "I believe familiarity is a key to many things, Chairman. Familiarizing myself with my enemy allows me to cut their throat before they can react. It suits my role quite well."

Umbra let the force envelop her as he spoke, gauging her reaction, how she responded, how her body and mind flowed with emotions to his statement, familiarizing himself with her presence and where she stood within the Empire.

"The SIBC does not weave mysteries for entertainment," she replied, her tone neutral yet firm. "We are methodical in our pursuits, driven by objectives that extend far beyond mere spectacle and ones that align with the views of our Emperor and his Sith Empire."​

​

"However, if you wish for insights into our operations, I suggest you observe closely. The wheels of commerce are forever changing, and that is indeed why you have come to me. To gain insight but also connections. So speak plainly"​

As Elane spoke of the Emperor, Umbra drank in her emotions, determining her standing with the Emperor, whether she was loyal, greedy, or determined, and where her ambition lay. He plied the surface of her thoughts, gauging how well she kept things hidden, what she would lay exposed for him to see. As he did this, Umbra stared into Elane's eyes, revealing little in his reactions and nodding softly to her words; his resolve was steady that she may have connections he would yet come to need.

"It is refreshing to see such dedication, Chairman," Umbra replied, walking forward and setting his arms on the banister as he watched the demonstrations. "Dedication and straightforwardness." Umbra watched the demonstrations momentarily before speaking again, his voice carrying easily to the Chairman.

"I will also be straightforward, or speak plainly, as you would say," Umbra continued, turning toward her, using the force to dull the sounds around them, "The SIBC, and by extension, you, have connections and wealth beyond what many can imagine. My time here will soon draw to a close, and I will return to the Unknown Regions, for I hear it calling me back..." Umbra's voice softened toward the end of his sentence, his eyes glazing over momentarily.

"But I believe you may be a key in the plan, Chairman. The SIBC's material wealth and objectives are something I wish to be apart of, so I offer you this," Umbra told her, returning to the moment and holding up a shiny black circular coin-shaped object with a blood-orange crystal in the center. The object's material reflected light but also drew it in at the same time. The orange crystal seated in the coin imbued a faint glow as Umbra held it up.

"A favor," Umbra stated plainly, "A Sith has no true allies, Chairman, for the Dark Side weaves its web in ways that make us turn on each other. But take this coin, and you will know me as a true ally so long as you hold this," Umbra accentuated his point by slightly shaking the coin. "No strings attached—just a simple understanding. This coin is my loyalty; one day, I will call for you, and the call will be worth more than you can understand; all I ask is that you answer it."

 

[Lirka Ka]

If Lirka could read minds, she'd be a very happy Sephi. The general displeasure of Trayze Tesar was something that Lirka had found to be a rather nice hobby to partake in when these grand social gatherings arrived. All that playing into that rather crucial reminder she liked to give the dear Tesar - he should've killed her when he had the chance out there in the void of space. He had gained an irritant the moment Lirka had returned to Sith space.

She pondered his words briefly; Lirka really did impress herself sometimes. Maybe in another time, and perhaps with a different face, she'd need to take up a career in comedy. When she spoke, there was that hint of grand self-amusement that trickled through her accent.

"Please, Captain. You don't need to flatter me by reminding me how funny I am. Besides, I am plenty civilized. Don't forget, Tesar. I was a queen once."

A regime that was short-lived, incredibly violent, and greatly unproductive. But who reads history books about meaningless little rocks like Thustra? All that Trayze needed to know is that once upon a time Lirka fit into the high society of royalty. Yet, her fun was quickly interrupted by the announcement that came from the dark lord of the party.

Princess...Porkstein?

For a moment, Lirka stood there. Dumbfounded, and flabbergasted. When one's religion-born-of-madness deemed most of the only acceptable fun torment and mayhem the humor of pig-murder struck like a flashbang. Quickly did Lirka compose herself with a small shake of her head before looking to address the her departing "dear captain". And the volunteering form of the Corellian Allyson Locke whom Lirka was fairly certain she had never seen before.

Well, nothing like a murder mystery to meet some new faces she supposed. Giving her ever-so-hated Kiffar friend a shrug Lirka responded with something that sounded almost like morbid curiosity.

"Why not I suppose."

Lirka was usually the one committing murders; solving one would be a pleasant change of pace. Not quite the change of pace that Serina Calis whispered to Lirka. The Once-Sephi let out a frown underneath her helmet. She had a passing...tolerance...of Serina, and perhaps even that slightest hint of respect for the girl's dark goals. But neither stopped her from finding the girl grating. Temper got the better of her, briefly, words hissing out of her helmet in rebuttal.

"Do not act like you know my pace, child."

Lirka looked out to this gathered assembly of would be investigators and realized...she had no clue what to say. Perhaps that was the grandness of the game her and Tesar played - whenever Lirka came out to swing, following the Kiffar would only end up leading to awkwardness for herself. Lirka chalked it up to being some grim joke of Primordial Darkness and clasped her hands behind her back in silence. Content to simply wait and see how the other two investigators responded to Calis's prodding.

 

[Kastor Durnan]

"Anythin' good or no?"

Kastor was having trouble keeping up with what was going on up there. Not because it was too distant or anything, but because people kept moving and that made it hard for him to read lips. Seeing the people present was pretty easy thanks to his cybernetic eyes, though zooming in long term was starting to give him a little bit of a headache and making him feel out of sorts because it felt like he was standing right there with them when he was actually a good distance away.

"Hard to make a lot out since they keep moving," he admitted.

He really wished he had cybernetically enhanced hearing so that he could pick up on exactly what was being said. Alas, he did not. Reading lips was the best he could do. Someone over there was presenting on something, with a full board of display and everything.

"Caught something about a cult in the lower levels, but not sure which lower levels they were referring to or what the cult is."

"Lot of planets with lower levels."

"Yes, I'm aware of that. Stop distracting me."

"Yeah. Distractin'. From lip readin'."

If rolling his eyes wouldn't have made him completely sick it probably would have been warranted in that situation. Considering he didn't feel like throwing up, he decided not to do so. Instead, he just sighed and kept his focus on the Sith on the balcony. They were plotting and sharing information, and he wanted to get as much of it as he could. Looking from mouth to mouth as people talked was going to tire him out, but if he got anything good, it would be well worth it.

---

ATTIRE: Raggedy Clothes | WEAPONS: Rifle, Pistol, Vibroknife | OTHER: Aegis Dermal Layering, VeilSight, Neural Cloak

TAGS: OPEN​

 

[Elane II of Kuat]

Objective: Stand Around...Menacingly
Tags: Darth Umbra

"Your approach is commendable, Lord Umbra," she replied, observing Umbra with a carefully composed expression. "Familiarity can indeed serve as a weapon, but it is also a double-edged sword. Trust is a luxury in the Sith Empire, one that I advise you to wield with caution."​

​

Elane's eyes flickered briefly to the coin he held, its blood-orange crystal drawing her attention momentarily before she refocused on his intent. The promise of loyalty from a Sith was a curious offering, one laden with uncertainty. She leaned slightly forward, maintaining her poise even as she considered the implications.​

​

"What you propose is intriguing," she continued, drinking the glass of wine within hand as another invention was shown for the Third Legion. A flux capacitor which would enable starfighter engines to run more efficiently and require less fuel to operate a full squadron. A cost-saving measure which the Lord-Banker could appreciate. ​

​

"However, I must remain vigilant. The SIBC has worked tirelessly to carve its place within the Empire, and while your allegiance may seem genuine now, it is worth remembering that I would not hesitate to report this encounter to the Dark Council and Voice Meritum to secure my own position."​

​

She paused, allowing the weight of her words to settle. "Still, I appreciate your candor. The resources and influence of the SIBC can indeed be of mutual benefit, provided we tread carefully. I suggest that we keep our dealings professional for now."​

​

With a faint, almost imperceptible nod, Elane regarded the coin once more, her expression inscrutable. ​

​

 

[Darth Meritum]

Darth Meritum listened intently to the pitch Adeline Noctua offered, but he frowned as she finished.​

​

"Do not take this the wrong way, but cultists and undead already plague our Empire's military. A Legion of them, loyal to a single Sith, could prove disasterous in the wrong political climate. And what happens if you are killed? Sure, we're all confident we won't be the ones to die, but one misplaced Jedi Strike Team or politically motivated assassination, and a whole Legion could go rogue."​

​

His piece was stopped by Reicher Vax , calling for Darth Malum.​

​

"I apologize, Governor Rex, but Darth Malum has no control over the Third - and consequently, you don't either. I do appreciate the gumption, however.", he said with a shrug.​

 

[Reicher Vax]

Suspicious Minds
Equipment: Standard Issue Sith Trooper Armor, Vibroblade, Standard Issue Blaster Rifle, Datapad, Cloak
Tag: Darth Meritum Taeli Raaf Adeline Noctua

"Do your duty."​

The moment the name left Meritum's lips—Rex—Reicher did not flinch.

He did not correct him.
He did not glance.
He did not shift in his seat.

Instead, he simply sat in silence, as though the word had passed over him like the wind brushing against armor, acknowledged but not worthy of response. It wasn't that the Voice of the Emperor had failed to remember his name. It was that he hadn't bothered to learn it. That wasn't ignorance—it was dismissal.

And Reicher Vax remembered everything.

His gauntlets flexed ever so slightly atop the polished table. The movement was small, almost imperceptible, but the reinforced metal plates of his gloves creaked just enough to whisper his irritation.
Not rage.
Not yet.
But something colder.

Quieter.

He could feel the datapad in his belt—the weight of it pressing against his hip, heavier now than ever before. Inside it was an entire war. Charts, schematics, personnel assignments, reserve logistics, supply lines, recruitment hubs scattered from the galactic west to the mid-core. Combat doctrines tailored to different theaters. Predicted casualty models. Psychological profiles of target worlds. He had spent months preparing it, refining it, folding and unfolding every theoretical until only certainty remained. It wasn't a proposal.

It was the Third Legion and a war plan, forged in data and steel.

And yet, he didn't move to present it.

Let them think him overzealous. Let them think he had misunderstood. Let them believe he was small—a soldier playing at being a general, a governor clinging to someone else's dream. That was fine. More than fine.

Because he had once been that man.

And it had nearly destroyed him.

Years ago, Reicher Vax had stood on battlefields where the soil itself was scorched black from the fires of orbital bombardment. He had led men through the ruins of shattered colonies, the wails of the dying still echoing in his bones even now. He had been called many things—Commander. Hero. Warhound, all at the young years of his teens. He had bled for the Empire, had clawed his way through enemy lines and shattered invincible formations with nothing but discipline, tenacity, and unbreakable will.

And then... he had stepped back.

The sword was set down. He became Governor of Polis Massa, the grave-world, the whispering moon where the living spoke in hushed tones out of respect for the dead. And he had ruled it well. Brought order, brought peace. He had married Elara—his Viper, sharp of mind and ferocious in spirit. He had found joy again, in the quiet things, in building instead of destroying.

But now… the battlefield called to him once more.

And Rex, they called him.

A title of mockery—or was it?
He knew the old tongue.

Rex.

King.

He let the name settle upon his shoulders, like an old cloak long buried in the back of a closet. He would not wear it now, not yet. But he would not forget that it had been offered—however unintentionally.

Reicher leaned forward slightly, the red glow of his visor casting long shadows across the table. His voice, when it came, was steady—calm, low, and clipped, like the beat of a military drum.

"My apologies, my Lord," he said, his tone devoid of irony, "I must have misunderstood the nature of my charge."

He did not look at Meritum when he said it. His gaze swept the entire table—the technocrats, the alchemists, the governors, the Sith who sat there like vultures watching a carcass fall apart. One day, each and every one of them would remember this night. Some would remember it with regret. Others with awe. And a few—perhaps a very few—would remember it with respect.

"I came here to listen. Not to lecture."

He allowed a pause to grow, not so much to grant them silence but to command it.

"But should the Empire require a Legion of soldiers rather than experiments, of discipline rather than unpredictability, of strategy rather than superstition..."

His hand rested gently on the datapad at his belt. He tapped it once.
Not drawing it out.
Not yet.
Just a reminder. A promise.

"Then I have something to offer."

He eased back into his seat, armor clinking softly as he settled once again. His hands folded atop one another. Silent. Steady. Like a statue carved by war itself.

He had come here to be dismissed, and now he would be remembered.

He would not raise his voice again today. He would not argue. He would not defend his claim.

Because when the time came, when the bickering and politicking failed, when the Empire needed someone to build the Third Legion not with dreams but with war, they would remember Reicher Vax.

And the sword he had set down?

He was picking it back up.

On that fateful day, when the games ended and someone needed to bleed for the vision, they would remember the man they called Rex.

And they would learn the cost of mocking kings.

​

 

[Darth Umbra]

Darth Umbra nodded solemnly. It was a gambit, and it had paid off, somewhat.

"I completely understand, Chairman. And turning me in....how very Sith of you," Umbra replied, chuckling. "I believe what I have to offer will-"

PRESS HER! MAKE HER TAKE IT!

Not yet; she is not ready.

WE HAVE NO TIME. FORCE HER!

No! We have time. We must be patient.

YOU THINK TO DISOBEY ME?! FORCE HER HAND LEST I REMIND YOU-

SILENCE! Umbra spat back, cocooning himself in the Dark Side to ward off the voice in his head.

"-be of use to you." He finished. Umbra stared hard at Elane II of Kuat , knowing she had seen the quick lapse in mental focus. Whatever she believed the reason for his mental straying was, it would almost certainly be different than what it actually is. He could not worry about it right now.

"Speaking of professionalism and mutual benefit. I have a proposal for something that may be useful to this new Third Legion. However, I will need backing on it. This was another reason I sought you out; you seem," Umbra glanced around at the Chairman's bodyguards, "Well acquainted with procurement's. Would you be willing to listen to what I have to say regarding a new procurement that could rapidly equip the Third Legion?"