Populate The Message | Sith Order Populate of Anoth

[Karok]

"Worm isn't something I've been called in a long time. Ironic, given what your body is made up of, mm, Gendai?"

Firrerreo paused. Turned his head to stare up at the approaching figure. He'd thought he'd heard it before, the Huttess spoken in the crowd during the whole placement ceremony. Boy, did he hate that language with absolute venom. Even now he couldn't help but glare at the other acolyte simply because that's what was spoken. His expression slackened though. Brief annoyance, brief anger.

He couldn't let people read him too well, especially here.

"Then again, perhaps it's suited. The Worm King of the Fifth Trash, Karok."

"Like a worm you can be cut apart without fear of death, right?" If they were going to start ganging up, well. He reached down, pulling free the sword he'd been given as First Cohort.

"Panbocn mi cay biana jobaba, Wehhahhaa? Ree koumuaee uba gee bu jahkala bai mapan heee doe kankee." Karok responded to the would be insult and cast a glance to the blade that was drawn. He is not the first to believe a mere blade will cut me down. Damn moron. Closer the Gen'dai approached, but his movements got slower. Predatory almost. He was savoring every moment of the anticipation and build up. Actions that, if mistaken, could seem like hesitation.

Pacing side to side, Karok spread his hands and their digits. Flexing the muscles into large tentacle like claws. His posture fell to a hunch and body seemed to appear bigger in his chosen stance. From his maw drool dripped down before being wiped away. Animalistic and yet the next words that came from his mouth surprised 5th and 1st cohort acolytes alike.

" I wrestled two Praetorian's to the floor my first day. Do you really believe, that you, can do any better than they could when it comes to handling me?!" He said in perfect basic and smiled wide. Before this and for as long as Karok had been apart of the Jutrand Academy, he had only spoken Huttese and seemed to barely speak or understand basic...but now? Spoken excellently and designed to sow doubt into his foe. While the statement was not entirely true, it was true enough for Karok. The Praetorians, in truth, had beat the shit out of him that day. The cost of passing the maze was pain he had never felt before.

But not everyone needs to know the whole truth. Just MY truth.

Swinging forward with his right arm, the Gen'dai shot his limb to stretch and cover the distance between them in the form of a whip-like slash poised to hit Firrerreo 's midrib.

5th Cohort Frenemies: Brooklyn Zambrano
1st Cohort Foes: Firrerreo

 

[Zarava Dekki]

ZARAVA

Location: Inside Fifth Cohort Barracks
Objective: Save people and break up the fighting
Enemies: First Cohort
Allies: Third Cohort, and Fifth Cohort
Tags: OPEN

After the week of the ranking ceremony, Zarava focused mostly on gathering information and healing the wounds that she had acquired from the trials. Compared to some of her classmates, the redhead didn't place all that high. However, that is exactly how she wanted it. She didn't want to have multiple eyes focused on her, and would much rather be in the background. She wasn't here to impress every single Sith that was inside of the Academy after all. The only one who mattered was her sponsor, as they would be the one who would keep her alive. As far as she was concerned, Taeli Raaf was the perfect fit and seemed to be well-known within the Sith Order on top of it. She could only hope that it didn't paint a target on her back just from being associated with her.

Her body was still a little bit sore from her duel with Jarek Voss, but she had recovered well. She was already settled into her apartment, and she didn't mind having a roommate all that much. She mostly kept to herself regardless, and she still spent a good chunk of time in the archives gathering more information on the Sith and what they were like. She already got first-hand experience on how they treated others just from hearing about how some of the other duels went and that some of the students didn't even survive the trials. Out of everyone that she had encountered before the trials, there only seemed to be one other person she came across who was as clueless as she was about the situation that they were in. It had been comforting, but she wasn't even sure if she would ever see that person again.

Zarava was sitting on her bed as she flicked through her datapad. She had been looking at some of the schematics of some of the droids that she had seen roaming through the hall. Her thoughts were occupied as she thought about the sort of classes that they would have. How long would it take before she could craft her own lightsaber? It was essential in her plan for her to acquire one if she was going to manage to make it out of the Sith Order. Right now she had no choice but to stay where she was, as she lacked the knowledge needed to escape in the first place.

So much time had been spent on the trials she had little time to think about anything else. Her thoughts were immediately thrown away as she heard running feet from outside of the door to her room. Her brows knit together as she put down her datapad, opening the door to see multiple of her classmates running down the hall. One even ran into her should as she passed, causing her to send a glare toward her classmate.

What the hell was going on? Zarava wore the academy uniform across her body, and she decided that she might investigate. It was obvious that this wasn't some sort of drill. Her steps were light and silent as she made her way through the halls, and as she neared the sound of screams started to echo through the halls. Zarava felt as her heart began to beat faster as adrenaline started to pump through her veins.

Coming to the threshold that led into the Fifth Cohort barracks, it was complete chaos. The redhead watched as all of her classmates were seemingly attacking each other, for no reason. What was the point of this? She noticed most of those that were here were from the Fifth Cohort, or the First Cohort. What would the First Cohort be doing here? Zarava doubted they would want to be in a place like this when they had their lavish apartments to sleep in.

The pieces slowly started to piece themselves together. The First Cohort had started this, at least that is what she was concluding about all of this. Zarava felt the familiar feeling of anger start to bubble up in her chest. The needless violence. And for what? Nothing was to be gained here. Even though her main goal was to survive, she wasn't just going to sit by and watch as her classmates were slaughtered around her. Her blue eyes darted around trying to figure out what to do next.

She noticed that there was a girl that was on the ground, probably from the Fifth Cohort based on what she was wearing, while someone towered over her with a knife of some kind. The individual had no intention of letting the girl go, who was already covered in several gashes. Zarava's hands clenched into fists as she sprinted over to assist, approaching from behind so that it wouldn't be expected.

With a swift kick to the temple of the attacker, they were sent across the floor of the barracks, knife skittering out of their hands. Zarava would look over her shoulder at the girl who was still on the ground. "Get the hell out of here!" Zarava shouted. The girl gave a small nod of her head and ran in the opposite direction. Zarava could only hope that she was able to make it out okay. The redhead made her way toward where the acolyte had been, grabbing the knife for herself and stowing it away in her pocket. Her attention was drawn to another scuffle to her right, watching as someone who was wounded getting strangled. The attacker obviously had no intent on letting up as his victim struggled against him. Zarava rushed forward, landing a punch into delicate tissue, and kicking outward, hyper-extending the person's knee. He cried out, immediately letting go of his victim, who ran away in the same direction the girl went.

He wasn't down for very long, but Zarava wasn't going to let him get up anytime soon. She grabbed the nearest object that she could find and slammed it against the back of his head. He slumped over and lay there unconscious. Zarava sucked in several breaths as the chaos continued around her. However, she had been distracted and soon felt arms curl around her throat in a headlock. It was someone much larger than she was and had practically lifted her into the air, causing Zarava to kick out her legs in an attempt to find some sort of solid ground.

The redhead looked around haphazardly as her attacker laughed into her ear. Zarava quickly reached into her pocket and grabbed the knife that she had taken, stabbing the weapon into the gut of her attacker. She was promptly released, falling forward before quickly getting back onto her feet. She rubbed her throat as her attacker pressed a hand into their side. Zarava doubted that she hit any important organs in her attack.

The wound didn't seem to phase the attacker as they immediately rushed her. Zarava dodged out of the way, and as they passed, she plunged the knife into their hip. This is what she was good at, using her speed to her advantage to tire out her opponents. Today didn't seem to be her lucky day though, as she backpedaled, her shoes slipped on a pool of blood, sending her crashing down on her back. Her attacker took advantage, immediately pinning her to the ground. The knife was wrestled from her hand and promptly plunged into her thigh.

A choked scream escaped her for a moment as it was twisted in her leg. The attacker wanted her to feel pain and enjoy every moment of it. Zarava was certain that she could feel the blade touch bone. Her anger continued to grow and grow, and she could almost feel the pressure building up in her muscles. She was able to move her left hand and put it to their chest.

The attacker had a confused look for a second before a sadistic grin spread across their facial features, as they felt as if they had won. The person was there one second, and then the next they were thrown into the ceiling. Zarava moved herself into a sitting position, touching the handle of the knife that was embedded into her leg. She hissed at the pain that radiated through it, not used to dealing with pain on such a large scale. She hobbled back to where she was standing, leaning against one of the bunks.

At that moment, the body fell from where it had been in the ceiling, landing on the floor, unmoving. Zarava stood there for a couple of seconds, looking at the body before approaching it again. She put two fingers against the side of the person's neck and felt a faint pulse. They were still alive. Barely, but still alive. As Zarava looked around the room, only one thought came to her.

This sucked.

 

[Rosalia Aros]

Tag: Soah Ty’Jyn | Matteo Guo-Yian - Adean Castor ( Firrerreo )
​

Rosalia had heard the plans for tonight's 'mischief.'

And while she was, at times, mischievous herself... raiding the fifth cohort didn't sound like fun. Perhaps it was due to her noble upbringing on Entralla, but she felt somehow above that behavior. Though, what did that mean for her future as a Sith? She wasn't sure. However, she imagined herself in the future being regal and elegant and frightening -- not willing to play such foolish games.

The energy vampire had watched and waited as the others ran forth to do the bidding of their superiors.

She ended up going in the opposite direction -- towards the first cohort's area. It was lavish, much different than the fourth cohort dorm rooms, which were plain but comfortable. Now, some of these rooms made her feel like she was back home, walking through the hallways of her own mansion. She didn't know exactly what she'd come to find...

"Who else is there?" -- said a familiar voice, that of Soah.

Rosalia would step out from the shadows as if she'd simply materialized there. She was pleased to see Matt and Soah, they were the closest she could call 'friends' here. And the feline-girl was fourth cohort as well -- though ranked well above Rosalia. She would offer her companions a smile -- a true smile -- revealing her fangs for a brief moment. Though, she realized that there was someone else present... someone unfamiliar.

 

[Matteo Guo-Yian]

Tag: Rosalia Aros | Soah Ty’Jyn | Adean Castor ( Firrerreo )

Soah surprised him with her sudden lunge as she pinned him back against the wall. His eyes widened and he gasped.

"O-oh... yes. Well, yes." Nodding there quietly as he gazed down at her. It didn't even occur to him how odd it was that a short stump like her could overpower him so easily. "You too, I am glad." He listened to her and a brief smile flashed across his expression. "Yeah, that's exactly what I was thinking while dodging Firsts, Seconds, Thirds and Fourths. While they are busy karking around in our barracks that barely has anything, we can make a mess here."

He glanced around the opulent room as Soah let go of him.

"Wow these fethers have it nice. I barely have my own bed and they get a whole room to themselves?"

A surge of emotion ran through him. Jealousy, hunger, wroth. It was presumably exactly what the Prefects wanted. Pit them against one another, make them jealous and push them deeper into those dark feelings.

Matteo stepped past Soah towards the sacrifice altar of Firrerreo. That one was a sick nexu by the looks of it. He recognized most of these appliances from his own training back at the compound on Tion. Then his attention was grabbed by the familiar perching in the shadows near the workstation. It looked odd and Matteo wasn't sure what it was.

But before he could mention it two presences intruded on his senses.

One unfamiliar- the one Soah had called out in the shape of Adean.

The other very familiar. His expression brightened noticeably as he turned around. "Rose." He greeted the girl cheerfully. "Glad to see you still kicking too. Had the same idea as the rest of us?"

Almost as if to make a point... his dagger flew out of his hand and smashed into Firrerreo's mini-fridge, causing sparks to fly and to deactivate. In about half an hour all his precious little foodstuffs would be entirely ruined.

Perfect.

 

[Adean Castor]

Tags: Soah Ty’Jyn | Rosalia Aros | Matteo Guo-Yian | Firrerreo

Adean froze in her tracks when the voice, a tad more effeminate than the first, called out. When a third voice joined the duo, she relaxed a fraction. Perhaps she has gone unnoticed once more after all.

A sinking feeling suggested otherwise, however, further perpetrated by how the trio spoke to each other with such familiarity. Alone with a group of similar strangers was one thing, alone with a group of strangers who all knew each other was a danger on its own. She briefly considered slipping away as they conversed, maybe even adopting the role of informant.

But no, those of the First had already begun recruiting their lackeys and had opted not to seek her out. Adean wasn't interested in begging for table scraps, not yet. The egos of much of the First were already beyond anything she'd want to seek out on purpose. Those in the lower cohorts, though? They all had something to prove and, at the moment, a common enemy.

Adean steeled herself, adopting the posture one would expect of her borrowed name. Brassius Zambrano slipped out of their hiding place. They took in the three acolytes, gaze wandering until they picked out a fourth, much smaller presence. A familiar.

"Not to interrupt this reunion and, uh, fridge hopping," they began, nodding at Matteo. They kept their hands in front of them, indicating that they meant no harm. "But perhaps you want to take care of that before getting too far along whatever else you're planning. No doubt it'll be alerting it's master shortly if it hasn't already."

 

[Aerik Lechner]

WEARING: xxx
TAG: Soldane Talon | Open

Aerik was aware that the Echani boy did not like him. As much as the pup had lacked the control to hide his frustration at the actions of Urden Zeln on the day of their testing, this one was but hiding his hated well. The blonde pup couldn’t blame him per se. They had not started off on the best of terms. Maybe this would help to mend that, or further separate them. Regardless, help was needed in some form, and Aerik was resolved to give it. He was a pack animal and the fifth cohort was his pack.

The pack protected its own.

He caught the elbow with his hand, no longer hiding his reflexes or strength. If it meant exposing some of his secrets to this Echani to help him, then so be it. Aerik still was unable to change. Were he able to, the assassin would have been staring down a massive otherworldly beast rather than a thirteen year old boy.

Kole lunged at the boy assassin, spearing him to the ground. The impact was hard, too hard. A loud snap, crack, and thud, echoed in the immediate space around them. He had not held back in any way, almost snapping the killer in two. Knife or no, this one would not be getting back up. It didn’t matter much, however. The Echani had lost too much blood.

Vyra came alongside, hoping her softer touch might be received. It would be a mistake for any to think she was somehow less viscous than her brothers. The girl was just more disarming because her natural grace. She was beautiful like her mother, but she bore the same fiery eyes as her siblings. With the force as her ally, she lent some of her energy to the Echani, hopefully enough to allow him the strength he needed to push through the pain and gain some clarity on what was happening around them.

“It’s the same knife as the one you took off the other one,” Kole said as he pointed to the knife sheathed in Aerik’s belt. “It’s got markings on the handle.”

Aerik looked down at the handle coming from his belt. Examining it a touch closer made the young pup curious. The markings were familiar, but where had they seen them before? The language was something they had been forced to study. It must have dawned on them both at the same time because their eyes caught each other in an instant. They looked at the dagger in Rivan’s gut, and they looked at the one Aerik had gotten off the other assassin.

“Master,” they said at the same time.

They had seen the ritualistic writings. These were ceremonial daggers. Whether Darth Carnifex was behind it or not, that was something they could not answer. What they knew was they had seen these writings in the materials he had made them study and learn. Had the blade been intended for Rivan, perhaps the second was intended for his sister Artemis. They did not have much time to think on it however as the rioting continued to cause other problems and other issues.

At some point the headmaster and his staff would be alerted to what was happening, and they would need to be nowhere near the fifth cohort when that took place. If they were caught among the fray, especially with the daggers, there would certainly be some form of punishment.

“Hey guys, we need to hurry.”

 

[Jarek Voss]

TAGS: Open​

---

Being in the second cohort granted many privileges for the young acolyte. One of them was being granted access to the Archives, and learning that he was quite studious. Sith history, philosophy, language, combat. He was even learning how to write on paper. If Jarek wasn't studying, he was training, and if he wasn't training, he was studying. The acolyte had just finished a session of Echani martial arts training in his apartment, wearing his normal Echani training attire. The Echani believed in not wearing armor in their duels, so Jarek trained in a very lightweight tunic that did not restrict his movements.

The acolyte decided to do some meditation. He sat down cross legged in the center of his room, and opened himself to the waves of the Dark Side. As he meditated, ripples echoed throughout its waves. "A disturbance?" , Jarek thought to himself, his head slightly twisting as he tried to focus on what was causing the ripples. Yelling, screaming, and begging began to echo throughout the Dark waters. The sense of fear and dread began to spread across the waves of the Dark Side.

"Something is happening." The acolyte stood up, curious about the disturbance he felt through the Force. He decided to stay in his current attire, and upon exiting his dwelling, he calmly clasped his hands behind his back and made his way to the lower cohorts. The tension in the air rose as he entered the third cohort. He could feel the stares, the jealousy, the hatred.

"As they should." His arrogance was palpable as he made no effort to hide it.

As he walked through the increasingly depressing decor of the lower cohorts, the air turned cold. A tingling sensation trickled down his spine. The tension mixed with anticipation. The halls seemed unusually empty, yet he felt like he was being watched. Upon entering the fourth cohort, Jarek was stopped by three other acolytes.

"Hm? What is it?", Jarek's annoyance leaked through his voice, making it plainly known.

The trio each brandished small shivs, and lunged at Jarek. Unfortunately, this pathetic lot were no match for a master of Echani martial arts. Jarek quickly dodged, bent his knees, and with an open horizontal palm, quickly hit the first assailants throat, causing them to collapse and choke. Using his momentum, Jarek lunged and pushed his striking hand into an elbow, slamming it at the center of the next assailants chest. The third, and last, attempted assailant froze, eyes wide and pointing the shiv at Jarek with a shaking hand. Keeping his momentum, Jarek grabbed the wrist with the shiv with on hand, breaking it, and grabbed the assailants throat with the other. The unfortunate acolyte tried to scream, but could only make gurgling sounds as Jarek squeezed his throat.

"Do you know who I am?"

The choking acolyte nodded quickly, thinking giving the answer would make Jarek stop.

"And yet you still attacked? Ballsy, or stupid. By the looks, I'll go with stupid. Tell me, what is happening?"

The acolyte tried to answer, but only made choking sounds. Jarek lifted him closer, his hand still wrapped around his throat.

"Please, I cannot understand when you gurgle." Jarek squeezed a little tighter. "What is going on?"

"R..Ra..Raid...o..n...th..e..5th..."

"Raid... on the 5th cohort?

The acolyte nodded frantically.

"Who? Who told you to raid the 5th cohort."

The choking acolyte eyes widened, fear oozing off of him. Jarek twisted his wrist again.

"The.. 4th!"

"The 4th? Firrerreo? Well, lets go see, shall we?"

Letting go off the acolytes wrist, Jarek rested his now free hand behind his back, and dragged the injured acolyte with him as he calmly made his way to the 5th cohort.

---

The smell of copper filled the halls of the 5th cohort. Acolytes crying for help, begging, as they were beaten up or worse. Jarek ignored it, as he made it to the barracks.

"Well, isn't this a happy little reunion?" Fights were still breaking out as he arrived at a group of his contemporary acolytes. "Was it him?" Jarek said, nodding towards Firrerreo .

The choking acolyte quickly nodded. Jarek tighten his grip, causing the acolyte to pass out, and dropping him to the floor.

"I must admit, you are more cunning than I gave you credit for, Firrerreo . And , is that Karok ? Zarava Dekki ? Viers Connory ? Brooklyn Zambrano ? and even Irina Jesart ?"

Jarek let out a loud and boisterous laugh.

"Leading failures to take out even worse failures isn't something I would brag about. You know, I was... a bit disappointed... when you ranked higher than I did. But with this little charade, maybe someone wanted you in that position to make a spectacular, and very public, fall?"

Jarek continued to laugh.

"But what do I care? I just want to enjoy the Chaos!"

 

[Marcus Dinn]

Heads rolled. Marcus leaped over beds and darted around bunks, his dagger slicing through the air around him. He felt, for the first time in years, the thrill of battling opponents with blades rather than blasters. Force, how he had missed the blood-soaked brutality of it all...

A fellow redhead ( Zarava Dekki ) managed to throw her burly attacker up at the ceiling. No sooner had the meathead crashed to the floor Marcus was upon him, plunging his dagger into the man's heart. He glanced toward her for a moment, confused by her presence. She wasn't in the 5th Cohort, not to his knowledge, yet she wasn't one of the attackers. So what was she doing here?

Danger! Marcus spun around to face a new foe. The scuffle was short-lived; the other acolyte fell with blood spurting from his gashed neck.

"But what do I care? I just want to enjoy the Chaos!"

Marcus thundered toward Jarek Voss , fist pulling back to punch the pale-haired prick in the nose.

 

[Soah Ty’Jyn]

Objective: Take advantage of the ruckus
Location: Outside of Forth Cohort Dorms
Interacting with: Matteo Guo-Yian | Rosalia Aros | Adean Castor | Firrerreo

All that mattered to Soah was that Matteo agreed. They both saw the opportunity -- humiliating the Firrerreo and taking whatever they could from his precious domain. There was amused approval in her hazel eyes when the conservator had been struck. Nothing like hitting it where it hurts. There was a point to be made, a message to send: even the First Cohort wasn't untouchable.

When Rosalia emerged from the shadows, the corner of Soah's lips curled upward, a flicker of amusement crossing her feral features. She gave a curt nod in the girl's direction, acknowledging her skill in slipping away from the chaos the Firrerreo had unleashed. The subtle designs rippling across Soah's ink-black tattoos seemed to mirror her approval, shifting like living shadows in a brief, satisfied dance.

But something else snagged her attention -- another scent, another presence. Soah's predatory gaze shifted, and soon enough, someone else stepped out from hiding. The newcomer was unfamiliar, a face she didn't recognize. Friend or foe? It was too soon to tell. The shadow that girl gestured to, however, was what truly piqued Soah's interest. Her eyes widened, curiosity sharpening her focus.

"A familiar," she whispered, almost to herself. Of course, the Firrerreo would have one. With the resources and power the First Cohort flaunted, it was no surprise that they had begun dabbling in more arcane practices. Soah didn't fully understand the creature that clung to her own skin, but she'd overheard enough to know familiars like these could be controlled -- tamed even.

Her gaze darkened, considering the possibilities. "He's the Firrerreo's eyes and ears," she murmured, her voice low and calculating. "Best he's taken care of -- or someone could try to claim him." The idea tempted her, but her real interest lay elsewhere. If the Firrerreo had a familiar, then he must have knowledge -- tomes, secrets, techniques -- tucked away somewhere in his quarters.

That's what she wanted. Not just power, but understanding. She could feel the shadows across her skin shifting, eager and restless, mirroring the excitement thrumming through her. Let the others deal with the familiar if they wanted; Soah's sights were set on the Firrerreo's hidden knowledge. She had a feeling it would be worth whatever risks they had to take.

 

[Brooklyn Zambrano]

Equipment | In Bio

Location | Jutrand

Tag | Firrerreo Karok Jarek Voss

It would appear that before she even had the chance to go for the first hit, Karok had went for it.

Her eyes kept an eye on that saber.. Typical, of course she couldn't use her own blade that she earned. This thick piece of wood would just have to do.. Along with other ideas.

Seeing that she had time, Brooklyn digs a spare hand into the dirt. Rubbing it in on both hands deeply before getting a tighter grip on her weapon.

She needed to keep an eye on the newest one, his attitude instantly told her he was a wild card. She recognized him, one of the second cohort. Wouldn't it benefit him to beat a first? But alas, with so many lap dogs you could never tell.

More steps are taken, becoming more rapid as the girl got closer.

Victory in this instance would have to be shared, less sweetness to it all.. But there was merit in teamwork, and in strategy.

In order to help Karok, Brooklyn uses her boot to roughly kick a swath of dust and dry dirt at Firrerreo right as they were getting ready to defend against Karok.

​

 

[Rosalia Aros]

Tag: Matteo Guo-Yian | Soah Ty’Jyn | Adean Castor
​

"Alive and well," Rosalia said, nodding to Matt. Truly, she was thankful to see him and Soah here in this unexpected place. The group of First Cohorts clearly had their idea of fun, now it was time to have some fun, too.

Destroying a mini-fridge? Now that was definitely fun.

She turned as Adean joined them, and Rosalia gave the girl a small nod but didn't bother introducing herself. This didn't seem the time or place for formal introductions. All that mattered was they were here for the same reason.

For her own part, Rosalia didn't really care about taking anything from the room – she just wanted to make a mess. But the familiar did pose them a problem, the newcomer was right: it would need to be taken care of.

"Hello there, little friend," Rosalia said soothingly as she entered the room. The creature bristled at her presence, but she was quick to think. Like it's master, it must like food… there sure was enough of it in here. She picked up a package that was strewn in the mini-fridge wreckage.

"You wanna snack?"

The familiar's eyes widened with interest.

"Good… good," she said, tempting it with a bit of the snack. It began to nibble a piece of dried jerky from her hand, and then another. Soon, it was looking at her expectantly for more. Rosalia certainly didn't fancy being a carer for the thing, so she aimed a glance over her shoulder. "What now?"

 

[Kal-El]

JUTRAND - ROYAL IMPERIAL ACADEMY - FIFTH COHORT BARRACKS
Zarava Dekki | @Anyone Else idc i'm just giving Kal-El something to do and explain his absence

Meditation. Sleep. The two blurred the line where Kal-El was concerned. Slowly opening his eyes, Kal-El stepped out of bed and left the barracks. An attack was coming. All he could do was render himself prepared and keep the students alive. A certain weariness darkened over his eyes at the mission set in front of him. Something like this could never happen again. For now, however, making sure no one died because someone wanted to try the age-old and rather stupid tradition of proving their power superior to all others.

Kal-El would call it sad. An attack in the night? And on the whole barracks? Not a specific target or an attempt to get the upper hand on someone, but an attempt to hurt all of the Fifth Cohort. There was nothing to gain but retaliation and anger. This was not even a neat trick, this attack. It was a played out cliche.

One he was welcome to upon his return with the necessary equipment.

First, Kal-El focused on moving towards the students being flung aside like cheap laundry by the triplets ( Aerik Lechner ). Using his own body and hands, Kal-El sought to catch them each before any potential victim struck something dangerous. One victim struck duracrete before Kal-El could reach them. Reaching into a bag, Kal-El reached for a bacta shot before reaching a hand out. This was going to hurt. Not for him, but the latest victim in this carnage.

Injecting the bacta, Kal-El simply reached out and began snapping bones, muscle, and nerves back into place. Perhaps this was not the time and place to be exerting his talents, but there was little choice. Besides, if any Sith were watching his actions, Kal-El could simply excuse his actions.

Every life saved or protected would owe him a great debt. And any Sith, aspiring or not, despised owing debts, especially to someone of the lowest rank among the lowest. That and he could always say a sponsor paid for his services or the school did not want a student dead . . . yet. Simple enough lies that no one could confirm nor deny.

As soon as the acolyte started breathing, Kal-El moved onto his next target after moving the first injured out of harm's way.

A poor victim of a stab to the heart. Another bacta shot and forcing the troublesome organ to stitch itself together and start pumping blood again. Repairing people was not a simple task. There were a number of things that could go wrong if not done correctly, and there was limited time to save someone before their brain simply died or suffered too much damage to be revived.

The Gen'Dai ( Karok ) was making short work of several acolytes. Kal-El sighed before sprinting into a full run towards the next set of injured. A broken wrist was simply enough to mend, even without bacta. Another one had suffered a broken arm. The only convenient mercy here was that each of these victims were too unconscious to feel the pain of Kal-El mending each wound. Repairing wrists, arms, and legs of various victims in bone stabilizers and spray splints, Kal-El saw the Gen'Dai was after the Firrerreo boy.

Not his concern right now.

Another victim. One of Eira's ( Eira Dyn ) own making. Knife wounds, especially in the back where any organ could be struck, posed their own unique challenge. A quick application of bacta and sealing up the more grievous portions of the wound would stop the bleeding. Moving the next of the recovering injured out of the way, Kal-El took a deep breathe as he rolled the tension in his shoulders. His eyes scanning for the next of trouble to pop its ugly head around the corner.

A girl and a boy had been victim to a telekinetic dagger ( Marcus Dinn ). Nothing too lethal, but could prove lethal if not treated immediately. Sadly, this pair were not unconscious for the following bouts of pain regarding repairing their flesh. Simple enough as Kal-El drove a swift chop to the back of their heads, rendering the pair out for the count.

That dagger and its user proved far more troublesome than Kal-El liked. Unlike the unconscious bodies that needed little tending to or simply needed to be moved to safety, these new victims were suffering from stab wounds and blood loss. Something that Kal-El needed to sort quickly, moving from one body to the next in a simple blur of motion. It was like a machine, how he moved and applied aid. No different than someone riding a bike for the millionth time.

The one closest to death was the one stabbed in the neck. Rapid blood loss would prove lethal if he did not stop the bleeding and found a way to replace the lost blood. First, bacta and sealing the severed arteries and muscle. Next, using hypospray and synthflesh, Kal-El administered the small medicines he had to promote blood production alongside the bacta while also sealing up the wound somewhat permanently.

Supplies would run low sooner or later. This entire attack needed to end soon. Then, he heard the scream among the cacophony of violence.

And everything else simply faded away. The weariness. The frustration. The single-minded and narrow focus acting as an impromptu medic. He knew that voice.

———————————​

Enemies. Allies. Furniture. All various people and items began to fly to the side as Kal-El began working his way towards the scream. His open palms striking and sending foes flying into bunks and walls alike. Weapons did not touch his person was he weaved out of the way before striking. Each movement quick and merciless but rendering each foe unconscious rather than dead. Several kick and flying kicks cleared out any foes that chose to gang up on him.

Rapid punches followed. A swift chop to the neck. A leg sweep behind the knees and ankles before slamming opponents to the ground. Kal-El would clear all in his way. Rank 128 would be the rank everyone would remember.

The weakest number, the weakest link, clearing out both First, Third, and Fifth Cohorts alike. No one was spared. Everyone who was part of the violence would be put down, regardless of allegiance. A ripple like this would send a message across the academy. What kind of message and implications, Kal-El had no clue nor did he care at the moment.

Up until now, there was little need for Kal-El to treat a situation too seriously. Maintaining a level of calm and composure was more beneficial than letting the stress harden you. Besides, underestimation served him far better than be estimated just the right amount. But now, none of that mattered.

All that was required now as focus and the resolute will needed to reach one of the few friends he made here.

The sounds of bodies flying and slumping over followed the sounds of doors and walls being smashed aside. Metal bunks bending and snapped as he kicked the debris out of the way. Everything, all of Fifth Cohort's barracks, was a mess of broken items and furniture and Kal-El would be the one to dust it all aside as if it were nothing, rubble to be cleared out.

Walking and slowing upon the scene ( Zarava Dekki ), a brief but hidden sigh of relief escaped him. Zarava was alive. Nothing too serious to her wounds except for that knife sticking out from her leg. Despite her wound, she was still checking on what he assumed to be her combatant and checking the attacker's pulse. A small yet proud smile escaped him before quickly dashing it away and hiding it.

He knew he had a good feeling about her.

Stepping slowly to not surprise or alarm her, Kal-El briefly waved before speaking.

"Hi! It's me," he raised up both hands in peace before repeating himself, "It's me."

Motioning for Zarava to sit down on the bunk bed, Kal-El began reaching into his bag and slowly pulling out a few of the medicinal tools to treat her wound. Whether she trusted him or not in this moment (and he could not blame her considering the violence surrounding them), perhaps showing his tools and that he meant to heal her rather than harm her would be a good step in the right direction.

"You're not going anywhere fast with that wound. Let me patch you up, and then we're getting you out of here."

As soft as he tried to keep his voice, there was a certain rigid determination to that last of his words. She was not supposed to be here. And, if she let him, Kal-El would try and stitch her wound together. A little painkiller and disinfectant before applying bacta and sealing the worst of the wound up with his own power before topping it off with medicinal synthflesh.

Finally and perhaps a little bit of overkill on his part, Kal-El wrapped the wound with bandages and tightening the cloth wrap. It would at least help keep the synthflesh in place, not that it needed too much help, but if she chose to move as quickly as she needed to be to get out of here, it would certainly help keep all his hard work from falling apart.

Medicine may work quick, but not as quickly as his own inherent abilities to assist with the patch-up job.

"Crazy night, am I right? I didn't think we'd meet again so soon, but I guess the universe had other plans, huh?" Kal-El quipped. Keeping his own cool would serve her, serve the both of them, much better than if he let his own concerns get the best of him in this moment.

Besides, who didn't love a medic with a good bedside manner?

 

[Jarek Voss]

TAGS: Marcus Dinn​

---

A cold tingle ran down Jarek's spine, the Dark Side telling him to quickly turn his head as Marcus thundered at the acolyte. Jarek let the Dark Side flow through him, leaning back and flipping to avoid getting it.

"Marcus? I must admit, I am surprised."

Without hesitating, Jarek run forward and jumped with the Force. Flipping forward, the young Echani was aiming to us his momentum, and bring his right heel on top of Marcus.

 

[Firrerreo]

"Do I? No."

Firrerreo leveled the sword for the approaching Gen'dai, smiling wide all the while. To go toe to toe with the Praetorians on their first day, and still be alive and whole? Perhaps that was just because of Karok's nature that he was still whole, but the Acolyte wasn't going to take the chance on a bluff. He lowered his stance, readied himself for the strike.

Smirked, at first, as he saw the other Acolyte move. Dirt, of all things? That wouldn't be much of a problem at all. He didn't need his own eyes. He'd just have to shift to that of his familia- He blinked as images flashed through his mind. His other familiar, his room. People? He didn't even have time to process what exactly he'd seen as his body was slammed into and he was sent clear across the hall by the Gen'dai's strike.

Pain lurched through his body as he hit the far wall. He didn't drop his blade at least, but as he hit the ground he had the most displeased expression on his face. He stood shortly after, idly lifting his blade again.

"Someone broke my fridge."

Lightning crackled down the Sith Sword as he tightened his grip on the hilt. Anger, rage even, rippled through his mind to the point it expressed itself physically in the Force. He'd yet to create such sparks, but now they were dancing freely. Well, somewhat so.

"I'm going to karking kill them."

Karok | Brooklyn Zambrano | Rosalia Aros | Matteo Guo-Yian | Soah Ty’Jyn | Adean Castor

 

[Marcus Dinn]

Not only did he evade Marcus' punch, the bastard had the audacity to flip out of the way, unnecessarily showing off his agility. We get it, you're Echani.

"Marcus? I must admit, I am surprised."​

"I don't even know who you are," Marcus sneered.

The white-haired idiot lunged forward, once again flipping and dipping dramatically. There was one benefit for Marcus in his opponent's excessive panache: his follow-up attack was perhaps the most telegraphed kick in Sith history. The beefy redhead caught the Echani's foot with one hand; the other aimed a chop at his ankle, intending to shatter the joint. His dagger hovered nearby, ready to deal a lethal blow, but for now he wanted this clown to suffer.

Jarek Voss​

 

[Karok]

Smirked, at first, as he saw the other Acolyte move. Dirt, of all things? ... He didn't even have time to process what exactly he'd seen as his body was slammed into and he was sent clear across the hall by the Gen'dai's strike.

Pain lurched through his body as he hit the far wall. He didn't drop his blade at least, but as he hit the ground he had the most displeased expression on his face. He stood shortly after, idly lifting his blade again.

"Someone broke my fridge."

Lightning crackled down the Sith Sword as he tightened his grip on the hilt. Anger, rage even, rippled through his mind to the point it expressed itself physically in the Force. He'd yet to create such sparks, but now they were dancing freely. Well, somewhat so.

"I'm going to karking kill them."

There was a certain amount of satisfaction in watching Firrerreo form get sent flying across the room. Everyone was tough in till they get punched, then you really see who is at to bat. The Acolytes recovery was excellent and was noted by the young Gen'dai. He was playing with his food again and though he held a smile, his eyes told a different story as he watched remnants of dirt and dust waft down to the floor. He knew skullduggery was not his style and now the whole moment, his small victory, turned sour in his mouth as he replayed it in his psyche.

He furrowed his brow slightly trying to get it off his mind and addressed Firrerreo. " Look at you on your arse! Heh! You'll find it's not that unpleasant, once you get used to it. See how she bested you!" He paused and turned to Brooklyn Zambrano with a strange smile. He was lying. Brooklyn barely touched Firrerreo and those directly around them who had witnessed it knew it, but those who did not would believe the lie. Not because it was true, but due to who said it and what it would mean to call Karok a liar.

The 5th Cohort was the lowest of low. Weak. But together they can be strong. If they only had something to believe in. If they had faith and Karok was going to give all the lowest something to believe in through the despair. A dark faith.

For as long as Karok was feared and respected. His word's held merit. "One of Empyrean 's elect is among us! We have the Emperors favor, not the 1st! We have and come from nothing. I say, the weak are the more evolved!" Karok shouted but kept his gaze on Brooklyn Zambrano . The Gen'dai was banking on using her own ambition and drive to get ahead, He had knowingly gave her a humble platform and though he had plans for if she accepted it or not here an now.

Karok still pondered.

Would Brooklyn accept it? What would she do with this?

Tags: Jarek Voss Marcus Dinn Kal-El

 

[Brooklyn Zambrano]

Equipment | In Bio

Location | Jutrand

Tag | Firrerreo Karok

Such tactics were not her favoured thing to do, but those who keep their pride above their own survival and winning become worm food for that very reason.

The quick, or the dead..

Her eyes watch as the young man spoke on about.. His fridge? At a time like this, they were far more concerned over some fridge.. Sounds about right, the exact type of pompous little bastard people hated.

The words of Karok did indeed spurr on the young woman, to her it was a sign of trust. There was no way a being like that just handed over boasting rights normally.

Like a rallying standard for a soldier, Brooklyn sought to help bolster her allies. For battles were won by tact and bond...

"I was scarce afraid of that sword when you first pulled it out! I'm going to shove it up your ass!"

The Epicanthix declares, hopeful that her words inspired the ferocity of those around her.

"Stand up!"

She huffs, grabbing a rock and tossing it at him like a baseball.​

 

[Zarava Dekki]

ZARAVA

Location: Fifth Cohort Barracks
Tags: Marcus Dinn , Kal-El , Firrerreo , Karok , Brooklyn Zambrano

Weakness. Like that in wild animals, it was a state of being other creatures would take advantage of. Zarava hardly considered herself all that weak, especially when she got angry enough. But in this situation? It was an entirely different game this time around. Her own blood had been spilled, and that meant others might see her as weak with the injury that she had acquired. It wasn't life-threatening, but it still put her at a significant disadvantage. Considering what she had managed to do with her previous opponent by launching them away, maybe she could do it again. Of course, she didn't know exactly how she had done it, she had been so angry and there had been so much pressure in her muscles waiting to be released.

However, Zarava didn't have time to think as a loud squelching sound filled her ears. Her head snapped back to look back at her downed opponent, seeing another student with their blade plunged into their chest. She stopped breathing as Marcus Dinn stared at her, the muscles in her leg tensing in case he decided to launch an attack. Maybe she was just lucky, as she watched another attack the fellow redhead, leaving a chance for Zarava to move away from the scuffling students. There was no reason to try and take care of her previous opponent. Zarava didn't have the medical knowledge or even the tools. When she had lived on Elrood, it had been rare for her to get injured so she had never really had any reason to learn. She had been far too engrossed in learning more about ships and other pieces of technology.

Zarava had one of her hands out as she leaned against the room's walls, her eyes darting around at all of the movement that was still in the room. The smell of iron filled her senses and made her stomach twist. She had never been around so much death before in her life. It was like sending animals to slaughter. Was there no security? What about any of the Sith Lords that were in the Academy? Had no alarm been tripped? Multiple questions rattled around in her skull, and her mind went back to the first conversation that she had with Firrerreo. He had said he wouldn't have been surprised if the rich paid others to kill the less fortunate. Was this what he meant? Zarava clenched her jaw and ground her teeth at the thought. Senseless slaughter. This is what the Sith stood for. Zarava wanted no part of it.

Movement caught her attention, causing her adrenaline to spike again. Her initial reaction was nothing personal, as her arms raised like that of a boxer ready to defend herself. It took her a couple of seconds for Zarava to realize who it was, her eyes adjusting to the low light.

"Kal?"

Her voice was nearly a whisper, barely audible of all of the roar of the war that was unfolding around them. The Acolyte looked at him warily, trying to see whether or not he was here to join in the fight like the rest of them. But, just like their first encounter, his arms were raised as a show of peace. Zarava did not allow herself to relax, not with so many potential enemies nearby. She glanced at the nearest bunk bed he gestured to, and while she had been distracted, she still remembered the injury that she had sustained to her leg. The knife had done somewhat well to seal most of the bleeding, but she could feel the wetness of the blood that leaked from the wound down the rest of her leg. For once, she didn't question it, and shuffled to the bunk, putting most of her weight on her other leg before sitting down.

Zarava could hear her blood roaring in her ears, and the adrenaline in her veins caused her hands to shake. The Acolyte made sure to keep a watchful eye on their surroundings in case someone wanted to try their luck and attack the both of them. Eventually, her attention was drawn to the bag that he had with him. Had he always had that? Zarava didn't know all that much medically herself, but she was able to recognize some of the tools that he had with him. He was some kind of medic? This was news to Zarava. That didn't stop her paranoid thoughts from rattling in her skull. What if he wasn't actually trying to help and instead trying to poison her? If she left this room and tried to seek medical attention elsewhere, would the Sith Academy even offer to assist? She didn't have much of a choice in this situation, as other Sith might leave her to bleed out.

Her attention moved from looking at the tools, and then back to him once he started speaking. At his last sentence, however, her brow would furrow. Zarava was stubborn, and others around here with less fortunate with the wounds that they had been given. She didn't dare look at the floor to see all of the corpses that potentially littered it. "F-Fine. Just get it over with. Patch me up the best you can, but I'm getting back out there. People need help." Her voice shook as she began to speak, but eventually, she became filled with more confidence in her ability to help. Zarava watched every movement that he made as he started to use all of the tools at his disposal. The removal of the knife from her leg was the worst part, and she had to muffle a scream by biting down on her clenched fist, nearly drawing blood.

The redhead would be lying if she said she knew exactly what he was using. The pain had dulled considerably, which was all she cared about. Zarava felt a sense of relief in the factor that she wasn't going to bleed out in the Fifth Cohort barracks. Before she knew it, her leg was wrapped in bandages and didn't feel as bad as it had a minute ago. Maybe she could try and convince Kal-El to teach her how to do that. After all, there were going to be plenty of instances where she would be off on her own and need to know how to fix her own wounds. Zarava raised and lowered her leg from her sitting position, as if testing it, and then Kal-El spoke. Zarava wouldn't help but let out a puff of air from her nose in amusement. "I guess it did." Zarava agreed as she stood up, testing how much weight she could put on her leg.

Once she was satisfied enough, she turned back to him again. "Do you know what's happening? Did someone order this attack?" Zarava questioned quickly. There was a chance that he would know what was happening here. After all, he was part of the Fifth Cohort. Her attention then turned to voices that were shouting over the crowd. Her blue eyes noticed at least three individuals, one of which was Firrerreo . He was part of the First Cohort and would have no reason to be here unless he just wanted to attack the Fifth Cohort. The other two individuals, Karok and Brooklyn Zambrano seemed to be trying to rally the rest of the Fifth Cohort into fighting against the likes of the First Cohort instead of each other. Zarava wasn't sure if their speeches would work, but there were plenty of other fights that needed to be stopped before they got out of hand.

Zarava rolled her shoulders and looked around the room to see where assistance would be needed. She took a couple of steps forward, a slight limp as she walked a couple of steps. Despite the injury she had sustained, she was going to help as many as she could in this fight. Besides, she had plenty of anger that she could unleash on those who took advantage of the weak.

 

[Adean Castor]

Location: First Cohort Apartments
Tag: Matteo Guo-Yian | Rosalia Aros | Soah Ty’Jyn | Firrerreo

Adean's interests were piqued at the idea of claiming another's familiar for herself. Extra eyes and ears would suit her quite well as she continued her charade, especially eyes and ears that weren't also caught in the game of advancement all the students were locked in. Resources in the fourth were limited, as were her own skills. But to claim another's familiar for her own...It wasn't that much different from the stolen names and titles that had landed her here to begin with, right?

"And how does one go about claiming them?" she wondered aloud, daring to tread just past the room's threshold, apprehensive to move too far in lest there be even more security measures beyond the familiar. The creatures were uncommon enough, she wasn't too worried about admitting ignorance in the topic. Unfamiliar territory for all wasn't exactly admitting weakness.

Emerald eyes further took in the quarters, scanning each nook and cranny for information. Class notes were well and dandy but paled in comparison to more personal information. She wanted leverage and, perhaps even more so, context. Who was Firrerreo? How did he get here? What were his insecurities and weaknesses, enemies and friends? A personal journal would be a goldmine of information, just as a token from home would give her something to go off of. All the better to know her enemy, if that was what he'd turn out to be. Or, in a more extreme case, take on the identity for herself. It'd be nice, for a moment, to enjoy the luxury of First Cohort. But with it would come the pressure to maintain the position, eyes on her every move. Those aspects, she would do well without.

"If we find a way to sever that little guy from his master, I could take him," she offered, casting another quick glance at the creature occupied by Rosalia. Adean had done her best to remain in the peripheral of the creature, to keep her face obscured in case the master was watching. "Whatever we do, the sooner the better."

 

[Firrerreo]

Firrerreo wasn't paying attention. His golden skin paled to silver. Rage, uncontrolled and furious. He couldn't feel the familiar in his room. Was it the distance? Had they done something to it? His things, abused by the hands of others? The irony of his line of thinking was lost to him. The weak were the ones who were supposed to suffer here, among the Sith. The strong wouldn't be stood against.

Then again, all he'd done was show others to be the strong while hiding his own. Now that he was in the First, well, perhaps using others to do his dirty work would only embolden those who didn't know what he could do. The tools he'd been given. That he'd taken.

The white mask of the Familiar still on his shoulder split as it looked right to Brooklyn. It opened, revealing nothing below. The abnormal lack of something as it seemed to absorb the rock that was thrown. Firrerreo's gaze shifted to the girl as the gears in his head churned. Then, he was on her. He surged forward without restraint or hesitation.

He struck to kill. She'd make a god example of why the First were at the top.

Karok | Brooklyn Zambrano