Dominion The Becoming | SO Dominion of Empty Hex (TSD Event Thread)

[Allyson Locke]

page claim

//: Obj 1 //:
//: Darth Empyrean //:
//: Attire //:

The ripples of the galaxy coursed through the Force. Allyson felt it despite not being as connected as others to the inevitable being. If she could feel how the galaxy pushed and pulled, it had to be cosmically devastating. The thoughts, the memories of the last time she felt this ached in her chest, tightening around her throat like a noose. When will the pin drop, announcing the true devastation of this horrible feeling?

When Allyson opened her eyes, the room they stood in was dark and brimming with the dark side. It made her sick, but she almost welcomed it over the feeling of the cosmos. She was hidden in the Force, and still being able to touch the light was dangerous within the walls of the black temple. The Corellian still held onto it foolishly, but already, she could feel the gaps between who she was filling and who she was meant to be.

Stepping forward, she had finished her small patrol. While her Master welcomed any challenger, today was not that day. The focus was the Blackwall and the planets shifting in and out of their territory. She could feel his pointed annoyance at the situation. The man was methodical and careful with his planning - she had never known him to be the type to act without a vision. Maybe her thoughts were wild assumptions, but it was what she had learned in her time with him and before.

Like Darth Carnifex , Empyrean was the main target of her studies as a Shadow. She needed to know them, understand them, and how they think. The more the Shadow learned, the better she understood the fallacies of the Alliance.

The Corellian left the shadows of the room, entering and standing at her place beside her Master. Today, the Sith would convene to figure out what was happening. She wanted to know, too; her fear was that whatever happened over 50 years ago was happening again. Did the galaxy fail, then? Allyson shut her eyes tightly again, trying to push back the dark memories that had recently resurfaced with the cosmic shift.

Allyson squeezed her eyes shut briefly, forcing down the dark memories stirred by the cosmic shift. A soft exhale brought her back to herself. She reached up, lowering her hood, allowing the fabric to settle lightly around her neck. Her eyes calmly tracked each Sith who entered—Carnifex, followed by several unfamiliar faces she'd never seen before. One,( Ashin Cardé Varanin ) however, caught her attention immediately. She remembered Ember mentioning this woman. Whether they'd formally met before was uncertain; the Sith had changed bodies multiple times.

A voice echoed, drawing Allyson's attention and the cybernetic eye. Humming to life, she quickly scanned the blonde Darth ( Kaila Irons ), who began with her ideas to solve the issue at hand or provide a way for the Empire to thrive in the present conditions. She proposed something the Corellian had been familiar with but had never seen for herself. The others also seemed to know but didn't know about this gate. Her eyes drifted to her Master, waiting to see his reaction. The Emperor was hard to read, but somehow, she always understood.

Spoiler: Tags

Serina Calis Elani Zambrano Madrona A’Mia

 

[Nero Drake]

Diodoros​

---

"Aye, cursed space it be. Bando Gora Reavers and worse besides. Terrors from the Kathol Rift that can make the sanest pirate go mad."

Just a few short months with this crew and Nero was already acting bosun. Deckhands gathered around the keg of grog hanging on his every word. Pirates loved a ghost story and he'd grown up on spooky tales of Kathol space. His old life on Coruscant already felt like a distant memory, swoop leathers replaced by a long duster and tricorn helmet.

"Rest easy for if we're daring these stars then the cap'n must know of some treasure worth the risk."

Nero finished his grog then shouted for everyone to quit counting credits and make ready for hyperspace. Space was confined on a gunship and squeezing through each hatch reminded the young corsair of skulking around an undercity sewer. The bridge wasn't much larger than a freighter's cockpit and Diodoros took up most of that space.

"Hyperfuel reserves are running low and one of the fore turbolasers is fried, cap'n. Need to take it apart next time we put into port," Nero hesitated, "Do you really believe the Aing-Tii are real, sir?"

 

[Loryn Praji]

Tags: Darth Empyrean | Allyson Locke

These were certainly interesting times.

The phrase, innocuous and tired, clung to Loryn Praji's thoughts like perfume—faint, persistent, and just vaguely ironic. It was the kind of thing one said during famines of truth, or at the cusp of catastrophes wrapped in rhetoric. But as she stood at the edge of the obsidian chamber deep within the Black Pyramid on Jutrand, beneath vaulted ceilings veined with glimmering veins of dark kyber and alchemical circuitry, she knew there was no more accurate way to describe the moment.

These were perilous, irrevocable times.

The chamber was alive with voices—some pitched in fury, others vibrating with restrained menace, but none calm. This was not a summit so much as a battleground of barbed syllables and clashing ambitions, cloaked in the trappings of diplomacy. The very walls of the Black Pyramid seemed to vibrate with it, echoing back distorted reflections of the Sith's unraveling unity.

She did not speak. Not yet. She didn't need to. Loryn Praji understood the calculus of attention, the precise weight of silence when cast by someone who knew they were overlooked. The Sith Lords debated in the firelight of unraveling star charts and fractured Holomaps—empire-wreckers, visionaries, madmen, all snapping at each other like hounds in a palace with no master.

The Sundering Dawn, they were calling it now. The moment the stars had... shifted. When ancient navigation protocols failed, when trade routes once held sacred collapsed into nonsense, and the fabric of spatial continuity—what was left of it—twitched like a dying animal beneath the thumb of the Blackwall.

Oh yes. That.

The Blackwall. The Dead God's grand design. His seething, sanctimonious curtain pulled across the Empire like a burial shroud.

Officially, she did not oppose it. How could she? To oppose it publicly was to invite suspicion, scrutiny, and the whisper of treason. But inside—beneath the smooth contours of her diplomatic mask—Loryn loathed it.

It had killed commerce. Starved worlds. Cut deals short. It had severed the Guild's tendrils from the outer reaches of the galaxy, left Praji syndics clawing for relevance, and, worst of all, it had locked opportunity behind walls she didn't build.

Yet here… in this moment… opportunity hovered in the air again.

She stood alone near a tall arch of veined obsidian, her silhouette framed against the cold shimmer of a starmap projected into the chamber's center—though its stars now flickered with digital decay, corrupted lines cascading like rot across the systems once thought immutable.

Her attire was subtle, severe—a long high-collared robe of charcoal silk threaded with gold in the faint outline of trade routes that no longer existed. It was both a mourning garment and a statement. The hem barely whispered against the stone floor as she shifted weight to one foot, her hands clasped loosely behind her back, the picture of contemplative detachment.

But inside, she was gauging everything.

Every outburst. Every sneer. Every fracture in the alliances that held Sith society stitched together like a bleeding wound under gauze.

She would not speak until she was noticed. Not until one of them—some scion of a warlord house, some alchemist cloaked in veiled threats, someone with just enough status and uncertainty—turned and looked, truly looked, and wondered why Loryn Praji was here.

She'd give them time to reach the conclusion on their own.

That she wasn't there to whine, or beg, or plead for restoration of old power.

No—she was here to offer them something. A lifeline. A new vision. One where the Sith weren't a huddled, paranoid enclave gnawing on their own myths behind a wall of cursed starlight, but once again the fearsome myth stalking the galaxy's edges.

She shifted again, just slightly—angled her body so that the silver pendant at her throat, shaped like a stylized hyperlane corridor, caught the lamplight and glittered coldly.

It wasn't a call. It wasn't even a suggestion. But for those attuned to the currency of subtlety, it was a pull.

If they wanted a future beyond the Blackwall…

Let them come to her.

 

[Darth Nefaron]

DIRECT TAGS" Madrona A’Mia

He was not welcome here
​

It was true. Very few Lords favored Darth Nefaron, and any previous grandeur gained from service to the Empire long since dissipated. He was but one of countless Lords who now bickered and espoused their grand designs and fears from the ongoing chaos. Though the Blackwall was indeed a matter of great import, Nefaron viewed it as little more than a hindrance, something that would drag this endless debate ever on when in reality the changing galaxy was to be the advantage of the Sith. Chaos had always been their weapon, for as much as the Empire sought to bring order, the Lords who controlled it seemed only capable of endless destruction and death.

Nefaron fell into no clique; he did not align with Darth Carnifex nor did he stand among those loyal to Darth Malum of House Marr , his generous patron, but he found himself exactly where he wanted to be. The first proposal to be brought forward was indeed sound, Kaila Irons had proposed the best course of action in these trying times, attack attack attack. The Sith should use this tide of uncertainty and chaos to strike any vulnerable system they can sink their claws into. No doubt this crisis was only going to grow worse as the galaxy continued to unwind and piece itself back together, so all the better to ensure their enemies were rendered helpless in this crisis.

Of course, Nefaron cared little for the Empire's success. Should their aggressive expansion only lead to disaster, it would be at the expense of their rivals. Though the Dark Council still viewed him with great suspicion and he was very much on notice, Anoat suddenly became the least of anyone's concerns as this new crisis gripped the assembly.

Anoat's forges roared to life once more.

Ships continued to rise into orbit.

Slaves once more toiled under the Corpse Lord's lash.
​

Even now, the careful plot that was unfolding was to Nefaron's advantage. Darth Malum continued to offer his own form of protection for the Corpse Lord, though he would soon expect results, which of course Nefaron was already in the process of ensuring his new overlord's kindness would be rewarded with the destruction of Alliance worlds and the creation of ever deadlier weapons. But beyond the Master of the Tsis'Kaar, Nefaron had been building a Dark Council of his own, his Apprentice was now shaping up into a formidable beast that grew in power with each passing month. Serina Calis , the Acyolte of the Corpse Lord, was making her move to secure a world of her own, a fortress from which they could expand their power yet further in Imperial space while also acting as a gateway to the vast region of space yet to be explored by the Sith.

And now, Nefaron sought to add yet another to his growing cabal.
​

Quietly, the Corpse Lord settled into place alongside Madrona A’Mia , and for a long time, he simply gathered what he could from her presence in the force. Yet another being who proved to be entirely unique, one whose potential for death and suffering was great, given they had the space to properly explore their power and an enemy to direct it towards.

"It's rather dull, isn't it?"

Nefaron began quietly, to not disturb the ongoing debate or attract the attention of others. He was here to speak to one being alone, one whom he sought to unleash against the Jedi and Alliance, as well as any who opposed him in the coming years.

"We talk instead of act. We could be doing so much, and yet we are sequestered in this chamber to await orders. I don't know about you, but I have other ideas for what is to be done in these chaotic days, so many great and terrible things."

He cast his lure. Now he simply needed to wait for a bite. ​

 

[Darth Strosius]

Objective: 2 Echoes Beyond the Drift
Equipment: Lightsaber - Sword - Dagger - Robes
Ship: Gauntlet - Indictable Class Frigate
Tags: Lirka Ka / Merion Oreno / Odrin Rath / Christina Locke / Kivah / Ellissanthia
--------------------------------------------

The jump through hyperspace proved to be a rather short one, a first step that was not taken too greedily or hurriedly in fear that doing so would result in something far worse than just being off course. While the Kathol Rift shouldn't house any real dangers aside from general navigational hazards, if fixed points had been moved then it was likely that anything from black holes to sudden planetoids could be waiting just beyond the next hyperspace jump.

It was a risk but losing track of an esoteric world like Aing-Tii was simply unacceptable. Far too much Sith blood had been spilt to take it in the first place, no mere galactic phenomena could wrench it away so easily. Darth Strosius stared out of viewports to watch the familiar sight of hyperspace blue began to blur and part to reveal the vast space beyond as the Gauntlet slowed and dropped back into realspace.

The brief sigh of relief that washed over the crew quickly turned into gasps and half-muttered curses as the ship lurched unexpectedly. "Status report!" It was as though the swirling nebula around them had swept up the ship in an unseen tide, casting it adrift and tumbling into the cosmic abyss. "Gravitational anomaly my lord! Resetting gyroscopes and realigning intakes now!" The corrections took almost half a minute to stabilize the frigate and silence the blaring alarms but it did indeed solve the issue nonetheless.

Some of the bridge crew had been thrown from their seats, others were slammed into their stations and nursing bruises as a result. Darth Strosius glanced down at the holotable and made idle note of two new and prominent dents in it where His gloved hands had clutched it when the ship had exited hyperspace. "Send warning to the rest of the fleet." Whether said warning could reach them in time to be of any use was another matter entirely of course, all the more reason to gain some distance from the initial coordinates.

After a moment He stretched out His senses once again to reach for the lost world, finding it a few leagues closer but still far from where they were. They should have been halfway to Cotellier by now but nothing in this area seemed familiar at all either. Had some great storm come through and churned the Rift into some maelstrom of shifting worlds? He had a feeling that it was much wider spread than just one mere sector of space, but for now the focus remained on charting their next course.

"My lord-" He raised a hand to silence the captain as He opened His eyes and ground His fangs together. "I sensed it." The crew had already seen it as well. Emerging from the clouds of gas around them was a shimmering reflection, like some great serpent slithering through space. Yet while He could sense it and easily spot it, it gave off no signature on any sensors that the ship possessed. Not even the turrets could track it through any method besides line of sight. "It's an apparition, nothing more." So He hoped at least.

 

[Avel Som]

---

The Sundering Dawn. That's what the whispers said. Honestly, Avel Som could not think of anything other than the morning sunrise breaking the chill of night when he heard the phrase. Of course, if one were to drop the article, it could mean the opposite. Sundering Dawn could possibly mean that the Night was overthrowing the Dawn. Either way, it was all the same to him. Whether the Galaxy changed or stayed the same, tomorrow was still tomorrow. And he honestly welcomed change. He'd always felt like the Galaxy was a rotten cesspool of corruption, with the ones who lied about who they were being the worst of all.

Still, he was curious, especially after that vision. Considering countless others had also had similar visions, how could he not be? So, he was here amongst these Sith Lords and acolytes, people he respected more than anyone else in the Galaxy, to learn from them. And perhaps someone here would be gracious enough to teach him how to use the blasted Force, since he was supposedly strongly sensitive. He was still skeptical, considering trying to levitate his sword had done absolutely nothing but give him a headache, but perhaps he was simply doing it wrong. And though Darkwing could use the Force, the ebonhawk had absolutely no idea how to teach it. He was very intelligent for his species, but he was still an animal after all.

Avel Som did not have any particular group to belong to, so he joined with none within the Black Pyramid. He did, however, give friendly greetings to various people as he walked by. "How's it going?" he nodded to Loryn Praji . "Nice architecture, isn't it? You Sith have undeniable style," he quipped to Darth Nefaron . He had never been the best at socializing, but he would at least give an honest effort.

He stopped near the throne that Darth Empyrean sat upon and bowed in respect. Avel Som at least knew that was the appropriate thing to do when in the presence of the Emperor. Kaila Irons was saying something about gates, while others murmured about the cause of this Sundering Dawn. That seemed silly. It was obvious what was causing it. "But who exactly is this Calladene?" he thought out loud.

---

 

[Taeli Raaf]

Objective I
Darth Empyrean Darth Carnifex Kaila Irons Ashin Cardé Varanin Madrona A’Mia Serina Calis Elani Zambrano Allyson Locke Darth Nefaron
​

Dreams and visions, clockwork and the shifting of worlds... it all reminded her of an event several decades ago that ripped away half of the galactic population into the Netherworld. It wasn't exactly the same, but the feeling was there. The uncertainty, the fear, the opportunities to rapidly expand power and influences. She remembered vividly how quickly the One Sith had seized the Core, and while such an opportunity was far more difficult with the GA, the Rim called for their hand.

Her scientists had been observing the merging of Firefist and Grek into the galaxy properly, and she suspected whatever was stirring that tension in the galaxy, the feelings in the Force, had been activated from that and... her gaze would shift to the Emperor in his seat. The Blackwall and the experiments with the Veil between the material and the ethereal may have attracted attention. Time would tell.

She had not taken her seat as a Dark Councilor, or even her box within the Assembly to represent Ziost. Nerralyn was with Kaine in his own box, her new role affording her a seat next to her godfather for the gathering. No, she had decided to wander some among the other Lords and Ladies, to gain an idea of what thoughts were lurking around. She would make her observations about the events forming around the Empire in due time.

It would be in her quiet way that she would approach, hidden in the Force and thought, behind two that had interested her in vastly different ways.

"Great and terrible things are all well and good, Lord Nefaron, but understanding of events should come first lest we stumble into unforeseen complications in pursuing such great and terrible things," she would say, announcing her presence quietly. She would offer a small smile to the Neti woman the Lord of Fear was standing next to. "Lady Seer, a pleasure to see you. I hope Valrar was to your liking."

The Lord of Fear had earned her attention, her scrutiny, for what he might be brewing on Anoat and A'mia had earned her attention as a kindred soul and someone she would not mind mentoring further in the arts of alchemy and sorcery.

 

[Serina Calis]

"The die is cast."

Spoiler

Objective 1 - Darth Empyrean Kaila Irons Ashin Cardé Varanin Darth Carnifex Madrona A’Mia Elani Zambrano Allyson Locke Loryn Praji Darth Nefaron Avel Som Taeli Raaf

Objective 2 - Odrin Rath , Ellissanthia



The chamber flickered around her—a grand illusion of the Black Pyramid, with its obsidian pillars and vaulted gloom, projected perfectly into the command bridge of her vessel. The council raged on in distant reality, voices rising, clashing like swords dulled by repetition. The holograms wavered ever so slightly in the ship's artificial gravity, phantoms of power locked in fruitless contention.

Serina Calis sat like a blade sheathed in velvet, poised within her designated holopad seat, one leg elegantly crossed over the other, gloved hands resting atop her thigh in still composure. She had said nothing since the beginning. Not even when the Emperor brooded in silence. Not when Carnifex growled about elusiveness. Not even when the Warlock's Gate was invoked—a tempting prospect, yes, but not one she needed to stake her claim on.

Her role in this performance was presence. Perception. Nothing more.

And now… she had seen enough.

Her command crew watched from the periphery, silent beneath her rule. The stars beyond the viewport stretched thin as the Crimson Spire coasted along its final hyperspace approach vector—still a long way away from Saijo's long-range detection net, but already moving in a configuration that could not be mistaken for anything but war.

Every tick of the nav-com drew her closer.

Every moment she remained on this call, the risk grew greater.

Her decision came without hesitation.

A flick of her wrist muted the holographic throne room.

She rose with grace, her projection doing the same, the shimmer of her illusion casting mirrored authority across both spaces. When she spoke, it was as smooth and measured as ever—low, sultry, and perfectly respectful.

"My lords, my ladies… this has been illuminating."

Her hologram offered a slight bow of the head. Formal. Almost regal.

"I regret that I must excuse myself. Urgent matters in my region require my full attention—nothing related to the Sundering, I assure you."

A pause, just long enough to suggest sincerity.

"I trust the Council will continue its deliberations with wisdom and fire. Should my insight be required, I am never far."

The holo shimmered once.

"Glory to the Sith."

The astute amongst them would know.

Serina never finished with that phrase.

And with that, her projection dissolved, light fading like dying embers.

Back aboard the Crimson Spire, Serina turned from the darkened pad without a word. The air in the chamber felt heavier now. Tighter.

"Status?" she said, softly but without softness.

Her communications officer straightened.

"Fleet cohesion nominal. No sensor pings from the outer range. Saijo's perimeter patrol is still running cold patterns. We're dark, and we're clean."

A soft chime echoed across the command deck of the Crimson Spire—encrypted signal, priority alpha. Serina's fingers danced over the holopad embedded in her throne's armrest, and the image of Odrin Rath snapped into sharp clarity before her, his formidable presence practically crackling through the projection. Behind him, the flickering glow of hyperspace bathed the bridge of his corvette in pale cerulean light. There, just off-center, stood Ellissanthia, arms crossed and skin misted with delicate droplets of hydration, her iridescent hue made more vivid by the swirling cosmos behind her.

"It's time."

Her image leaned forward, robes folding like molten silk across her armored frame. "Daggerfall proceeds on schedule. Our final trajectory lock has been acquired—target arrival, soon. I will meet you at Rally Point Thanatos when you are finished here. Once we converge, the perimeter will fall in sequence."

Her eyes flicked to Ellissanthia and lingered a moment—calculating, appreciative. "And do pass my compliments to Ellissanthia. She's looking positively radiant in the chaos, as always."

A small click.

She smiled—sharp and silver—and with a flick of her wrist, both transmissions faded, leaving only the war-hum of her flagship and the gathering storm ahead.

Serina walked slowly toward the viewport, the folds of her cloak trailing behind her like the shadow of intent.

A small smile touched her lips. Not the smug curve of a victor—not yet. But the smile of someone who had already moved on from politics and prophecy.

From now on, there would be no more words.

Only Daggerfall.

 

[Odrin Rath]

OBJECTIVE 2: ECHOES BEYOND THE DRIFT

Equipment: Lightsaber & Armor
Assets: Starship
Tags: Darth Strosius Lirka Ka Christina Locke Ellissanthia Serina Calis

The lights and sounds of hyperspace bathed the command bridge in different spectrum's and hues. The crew went about their duties as officers, senior and junior, strode to and from as two Legionnaires stood guard at the lift entrance behind him.

The captains chair still held a brooding Odrin, now curiously watching the Sithspawn on his bridge bathe herself in water. He was still getting used to her kind and was still in shock over what he had seen on Dromund Kaas. Darth Prazutis had showed him what all Sith alchemy could achieve but he was still a toddler when it came to its applications.

A soft ping brought attention back to his command chair, tapping a button revealed the holographic form of Serina Calis. His new partner of all things shadowy. Odrin perked a brow at her words, noticing her own form standing within her own ships bridge. So it was. Their public appearances were satisfied for now and Odrin himself would be on course for Saijo after this lil adventure.

"Very well. I'll send word when my ship reaches the rally point. I hope your asset proves useful, otherwise this endeavor will be over quickly." Odrins eyes looked pass the holocall to once again gaze at Ellissanthia. Curious how the two of them knew each other. "Until then."

Odrin shut off the call right as the young Ensign at the communications station piped up to offer a warning sent by The Gauntlet but it was too late.

The corvette heaved hard to starboard as it got rocked by whatever force they found themselves in, swerving hard to avoid ramming into Darth Strosius' frigate. Odrin was sent from his captains chair like a lot of other crew as he slid across the command deck and into the legs of Ellissanthia. The very frame and armor panels of the ship seemed to scream in protest at the violent and sudden course change.

"Helm! Straighten this damn ship out and give a status report!" Odrin yelled as he looked down at Ellissanthia in his lap. Growling in annoyance at his now wet pants he quickly tossed her to the side as he stood and gazed out of the viewports. "And someone tell me what the fuck am I seeing."

 

[Merion Oreno]

Emerging from the clouds of gas around them was a shimmering reflection, like some great serpent slithering through space. Yet while He could sense it and easily spot it, it gave off no signature on any sensors that the ship possessed. Not even the turrets could track it through any method besides line of sight. "It's an apparition, nothing more." So He hoped at least.

The corvette heaved hard to starboard as it got rocked by whatever force they found themselves in, swerving hard to avoid ramming into Darth Strosius' frigate.

In an area near the Gauntlet's bridge — Merion didn't know the right architectural term — he gaped at the phenomenon and the swerving corvette. The mood was rapidly escalating and he felt the urge to stay out of the way. That, and a deep impatient dissatisfaction that he had so little to contribute to this moment.

He braced himself on recessed stability grips and tried to remember his grandmother's stories about the Moross Crusade. There'd been something about the Aing-Tii or about this part of the remote Kathol Outback...

He tried one of the family memory tricks and got nowhere. The memory was too far back and too far gone.

 

[Madrona A’Mia]

Objective One

Watching the Weave glimmer before her, so many potent points of reality bending power coalescing in one space, it was enough to keep her Sight and mind busy all on their own. This place however was not a lecture hall nor amphitheater, and A'Mia must play the social game as well as the role of keen observer. Her more interpersonal attention was first gathered by Darth Nefaron who's energetic presence felt very familiar to her despite never having met the man. The two silently sized each-other up, and for his part the Corpse Lord might note that though her power was downright meek when measured against some others present, there was something sinister in the scope of her power.

True to her physical form, A'Mia's metaphysical presence held a tree-like aura with reaching branches and creeping roots that sought to fill the space and map everything her senses might register. Unless guarded against specifically, the neti had a way of seeing that which went unseen by others and knowing that which might be considered unknowable. The Lord Seer took note of all she could about this newcomer without gawking, which was commonly considered rude.

"We talk instead of act. We could be doing so much, and yet we are sequestered in this chamber to await orders. I don't know about you, but I have other ideas for what is to be done in these chaotic days, so many great and terrible things."

"I admired your work on Woostri, Darth...?" She answered politely, bright tone cast quiet in compliment and question- clearly seeking his title or name.

Before she could address more of what he said, a familiar presence approached- rather, her presence would have been familiar had she not cloaked herself so masterfully. A'Mia turned and her expression offered a rare hint of emotion at the arrival of Taeli Raaf . Surprise turned to deference, though the neti wasn't one to give too much credence to hierarchy, she absolutely saw fit to show deference to a mind such as the master alchemist and sorcerer.

"Truly a wondrous place, thank you Lady Raaf," A'Mia acknowledged with a bow of her arboreal head, "I will extend invitation back to you, that you might inspect the caverns I'm altering on Korriban which will host the young Dotitsi Matron and her brood that I treated with while I was there. They have agreed to relocate for a time, and will stay indefinitely to form a colony if my accommodations for them are suitable!"

Her voice remained hushed but the clear fervor with which she spoke came through nonetheless. She schooled herself then, expression returning to a more neutral calm as she considered both new companions.

"As to these strange times we face... Action is indeed alluring, but I do tend to agree with the Dark Councilor that knowledge reinforces the chance of success regarding most feats. Have either of you experinced visions of late?"

Right to the point, the neti had a way of bluntness about her that only seemed to sharpen when it came to dissecting matters of science or sorcery.

 

[Jhyrack]

Objective I

Lord Jhyrack attended events where council was held rarely. He felt that the strength of a leader was making their own decisions and he personally had little useful advice for the Emperor of the Sith. Jhyrack had his own battles to fight. The blood lust of a planet of ogres who now had enough vessels to cut a swathe of space out for themselves.

The maldrani's homework of Mylthal had been on the borders of sith space in the Outer Rim. It still was in the Outer Rim, but now it was beyond sith territories. Suddenly, he had good reason to listen to council.

"And take advantage of the chaos."

Jhyrack grinned. He liked the sound of that.

as their only means of salvation."

He closed his mouth. Salvation was less interesting that subjugation. His planet was a dark and foreboding place. He had promised his people more pleasant lands.

Jhyrack sat back and crossed his arms across his chest. There was talk of visions and a Blackwall and magic. It wasn't as interesting as talk of conquest, but perhaps someone would be able to explain why the sky at night on his home planet had changed completely.

 

[Avel Som]

Darkwing had not gone with his "human" friend to wherever he had gone. They had never been this far apart since they had met. They were currently worlds apart. The ebonhawk had needed to hunt, and there would be no prey where Avel Som had gone. And so, the predatory bird set off by himself, following the Force to find somewhere to hunt. He did not know the name of the world he now found himself on, having slipped aboard a ship to get here, and he did not care. names were unimportant. His own name was only important because that was what his friend called him. The only thing that mattered right now was there was prey here. And he was ravenous.

 

[Quinn Varanin]

//: CT-312 //:
//: Elrood //:
//: Attire //:

Dear <Redacted>

During mission <redacted> I came across a small trooper, they wore a garb of dirt, excrement and grass (camouflage). Their talents are something I’m in need of. The mission in question is to the planet of Elrood, survival might not be guaranteed, but for any casualties I will cover the charges for. I won’t need any group of them, just the trooper named CT-312.

Please forward the following attachment to them when they’re given the mission details.

Thank you,

Quinn Varanin

Imperial Princess

Professor of Force Theory

Jutrand Academy

---

The following letter would be attached and handed to 312 when they were given their mission details to the planet Elrood under the command of Quinn Varanin.

Dear Small Trooper 312,

It was a pleasure seeing your work during the mission <redacted>. Commander Gerwald has spoken highly of your skills and I require your attendance as an escort to the planet Elrood.

On top of what you’re paid through the <redacted> upon survival I will also pay you another lump sum and anything else you require to further your military career.

See you soon,

Quinn Varanin

Imperial Princess

Professor of Force Theory

Jutrand Academy

---

Quinn's shuttle touched down, and as she left, she'd waved off the guards who'd offered to accompany her. They weren't mentally fortified for something like this. She wouldn't risk the lives of her mother's people just because she was curious about the other side.

She exhaled softly. The veil between worlds was already thinning, one foot in the realm of the living, the other entirely on the edge of something else. There'd been a time she'd crossed the nether. Once to save her birth mother. Another to save someone she loved. But this time, she wasn't here to rescue anyone.

This time, she came for herself.

Something had called to her when she crossed before. She'd felt its hunger, its fury—always just beyond reach, always watching. But no matter how close she came, she couldn't place it. Now, curiosity was winning out. And no one knew she was here.

Kaila was locked in meetings with the Emperor, focused on the shifting balance across the galaxy. Kirie was buried in training assignments that Kaila and Quinn had handed down. As much as she wanted them by her side, neither had the time to prepare. And truthfully, she didn't want to risk them either.

Quinn exhaled again and glanced down at the slim watch on her wrist. Her delivery should've arrived by now. Stepping back, she scanned the landscape. Perhaps the tiny trooper had gotten lost or stuck in one of the ridges.

Frowning, she placed her hands on her hips as she searched for the camouflage-wearing, child-sized stormtrooper.

 

[Christina Locke]

//: Darth Strosius / Lirka Ka / Odrin Rath / Merion Oreno / Ellissanthia / Kivah //:
Objective: 2 Echoes Beyond the Drift

"At least they'll be exciting." A frown crossing her face. Sighing as the final things she could think to check were felt and adjusted. The observation of her speech making a smile return with a shrug.

"Words are funny things. They can share information, intent, or can be knives, a death sentence, depending on how you use them." Arms crossing given the lack of idle things to do. Gear secured as she watched everything shift and change to that uncomfortable blue hue that rushed to meet them.

Now trapped in the jump between places that sometimes caused the death of one, or thousands if a minor issue made itself into something larger. Her thoughts still stuck

"But, flowery words make people think there's something behind them. That is why I just speak what I am thinking. Lot easier to add than it is to take away." Shaking her head with a humored grin before looking back to Lirka. "If everyone thinks you are competent, you start getting duties you didn't ask for."

Her hands being idle wasn't something that came easy. A habit she didn't realize had become second nature. Developed from all the poor luck in her life. Observed from the outside, it no doubt looked like a self-soothing for nerves.

"Hah! No. I trust things in my life to go sideways, and like to be prepared for it." She was supposed to be dead twice over now. Likely would have been if some curse from the void hadn't seen fit to keep her just outside of the worst possible outcomes. A wonder striking her thoughts as her mouth ran away with it.

"How about you? What are you feeling? I doubt someone like you experiences fear." Her question hinting at a slight humor at the goad. Her heels rising slightly to engage the magno boots as a feeling if unease settled in the pit of her stomach.

 

[Darth Empyrean]

Tag | Darth Carnifex // Kaila Irons // Ashin Cardé Varanin // Serina Calis // Loryn Praji // Allyson Locke // Madrona A’Mia // Darth Nefaron // Avel Som // Taeli Raaf​

Empyrean sat, and he listened. The first responses were not about how to fix the issue, they were opportunistic. It was expected of the Sith, and yet he could not be more annoyed at the timing. Something that not even he could understand was to be made to our advantage? With a system the Mors Mon already utilized? It forced a quiet growl from him, ushering his strength in a more controlled tempo.​

​

He did not pay Avel Som much mind as he responded;​

​

"Opportunism without insight is begging for death. Have you confirmed this is not a product of the Diarchy, or a Imperial contingency? Do you know when it will stop? Do you have an answer to any question about this opportunity you so blatantly put before me?", he said with barely opened teeth.​

​

"The Mors Mon is equipped with a device that is not dissimilar to that which you speak. It will hold the battle lines, if not push them accordingly. Our first concern should be how to stop it from destroying what we already own - not how we can replace our failing empire with a failing world."​

 

[Naamino Zuukamano]

On Mission With: Kivah​

Having realized what their assignment entailed, Naami had hunkered down alongside his friend Kivah to study what he could in that short time. Contrary to the cathar though, after they parted ways the zabrak did some lifting at the gym with Lysander von Ascania and promptly got right back to studying after an early dinner. He didn't want to leave anything to chance and he knew Kivah was a much more experienced pilot than he, so Naamino was determined to be useful to her any way he could as co-pilot.

No matter the circumstances in which it happened, the zabrak always got an electric thrill embarking upon the vastness of space— particularly when he got to be behind the yolk or control panel, and this time was no different. Instinctively he'd kept his enthusiasm well stowed, perhaps sensing Kivah's hungover state, and been the very picture of devoted soldier as they'd been debriefed before diving into the mission proper.

"You know, they say the nebula makes you hallucinate." She checked over the TIE's light panel and sensor readouts again with an easy boredom. "I wonder if it'll be anything like all these dreams people are having, or more like a trip. Some of these people could really lighten up."

At first, the teen merely grunted in acknowledgment to her comment, keeping busy monitoring all signs as if he were flying solo because it was good practice and it kept him sharp. His horned head bobbed a little to the music as Kivah turned it up and he almost thought to ask her what was playing but then the woman's question came.

All the buried enthusiasm and dutifully maintained focus melted away and for a few moments, Naami's tattooed face lit up with excitement.

"Yeah! Constantly! I go between classes sometimes, and I've been practicing night flying more too cuz it's good practice for when clear line of sight can't be fully relied upon."

He grew a little more serious though and his eyes fell back to the panel in front of him.

"Since the stuff with the Diarchy though… I need to be careful spending too much on fuel. I'm without a formal sponsor for now."

He didn't think it wise to bring up the fact that Elmindra Xitaar had possibly taken over his sponsorship, as that connection was still tenuous at best. Plus, Naami wasn't really sure what the First Lord's intentions truly were. He wanted to believe that she'd chosen him as a promising young Sith, but he really wasn't sure if that was the full story.

A tingle went through the ridge of his central horns and his eyes snapped up to the viewport. Something was going on… something was wrong but he couldn't say what.

"Ahh chit… this better not ruin that Tuk'ata Tears concert coming up," he grumbled to himself.

 

[Gerwald Lechner]

WEARING: This
WEAPONS: Ferrum Solus | Blodmåne | Strømafbryder
SHIP: Úlfs Reiði (Wolf's Fury)
TAG: Jacen Breska 'TK-710'

Gerwald remained still, his gaze fixed on the stars and the anomaly beyond them, though his presence filled the room like a storm on the edge of breaking. The Wolf said nothing at first. He didn’t need to. Jacen’s words carried the weight of too many battles, too many comrades left behind. Gerwald had heard that same tone from countless warriors, had spoken those same silent doubts to himself beneath the cold hum of hyperspace more times than he could count.

His fingers twitched against the edge of his armor.

“Thirty,” he echoed softly, as if tasting the word. “That’s what they gave you.”

There was no judgment in his tone, only the kind of bitter amusement that came from understanding. The Sith had always valued power, but only the kind that could be wielded or discarded when convenient. Gerwald had long since stopped pretending otherwise. He had risen because he refused to be one of the forgotten. Now, he commanded a legion that bore the same mark. They were outcasts, survivors, the unbreakable.

“They were wrong, of course,” he continued, glancing sidelong at Jacen. “About what kind of soldiers you were. What kind of man you are.” His voice was low, edged with something colder than steel. “You weren’t dead. You were forged. The fire was just a little hotter than most could handle.”

He turned now, facing Jacen fully, golden eyes meeting the younger man’s gaze with a slow intensity. “I don’t want your best,” he said. “I expect more than that.”

The words might have sounded harsh from another commander—punitive and unreasonable, but Gerwald said it like a promise.

“I want the version of you that survived Woostri. I want the man who looked into death’s maw and laughed because it didn’t know who it was trying to claim. That’s who I’m reassigning. That’s who I’m bringing into the fold.”

He studied Jacen a moment longer, searching for something like resolve, perhaps, or the quiet sort of anger that fueled the best soldiers he’d ever known. Then his expression softened, only slightly.

“You’re not a fire-and-forget asset anymore. You answer to me now, and I don’t lose my people lightly.”

A beat of silence passed, and then Gerwald stepped back toward the viewport, letting the weight of what lay ahead settle between them again.

“Everyone wants to hold the rift closed by hand,” he murmured, almost to himself. “The strong think they’re meant to stop it. The wise realize that it’s not about stopping it. It’s about stepping into it and making damn sure that whatever tries to crawl out regrets ever touching our galaxy.”

He turned just enough to glance over his shoulder.

“Gear up. You’re with me when we cross. I’ll show you what monsters really fear.”

 

[Kaila Irons]

Wearing: Dress
Tag: Darth Empyrean Ashin Cardé Varanin Allyson Locke
Nearby: Darth Carnifex Madrona A’Mia Serina Calis Loryn Praji Avel Som Darth Nefaron Taeli Raaf

Anathemous listened closely, almost in anticipation.

Most continued to whisper among themselves or take glances at the young Darth, but a few spoke up. She nodded to Ashin Cardé Varanin , though hers was not a face she recognized. If she had, the support of Quinn Varanin 's mother would have meant a great deal. Nevertheless she was thankful for the insights of one so experienced. Anathemous had traveled through the gate once, but omitted that did not fully grasp the machine.

Thus her desire to see it studied.

The Emperor seemed less enthused, however.

"The Mors Mon is equipped with a device that is not dissimilar to that which you speak. It will hold the battle lines, if not push them accordingly. Our first concern should be how to stop it from destroying what we already own - not how we can replace our failing empire with a failing world."

"I..." this had not gone as she'd hoped. Not at all.

Her enthusiasm for conquest had merely been a ploy to rouse support from the war mongers, and though she saw the importance of expanding the empire in better times, now she was more concerned with free travel so that they might safely study this anomalous activity.

Now it made her look a fool.

"Forgive my ignorance, my lord."

She bowed her head and stepped back. There was no point in explaining herself, not to him, not when they had the means to do exactly as she planned, even if from but one ship.

Still, being treated as one of the hapless barbarians who stood boredly in the corners with no plan at all saw her jaw tighten near imperceptibly. She watched the crowd continue to move as if nothing happened, though in particular it was Allyson Locke 's figure which stood out, one she'd seen only once before, in the mystical realms of Vash'karath. Perhaps then she was the only one unsurprised to see her standing beside Empyrean, aware of their otherwise secretive connection.

Who was this mysterious woman at his side? It made her insatiably curious.

Even so she would not pry in such a place, instead turning to Ashin Cardé Varanin and speaking in hushed tones;

"What make you of this? Visions across the galaxy, wandering worlds and collapsed hyperlanes. Nothing makes sense."

​

 

[Ashin Cardé Varanin]

"What make you of this? Visions across the galaxy, wandering worlds and collapsed hyperlanes. Nothing makes sense."

"As the Emperor says, Governor," said Ashin quietly and wrily, just for Kaila, "opportunism without insight is begging for death. I could conjure resources by slapping the name Varanin on a heap of speculation - but only speculation. Not a soul in this room knows anything. What room might?" She tapped the edge of her mask. "I have half an ear inside the Diarchy where the public theory is someone of Akala's scale, but a being like that would take credit by now. And the Jedi Council will gaze nobly into its navel as ever; they'll have no answers. Neither does the Raskava archivist I know. Skilled prophets are dying. There are few rooms left."