Populate The Optimates and The Populares | Tsis'Kaar and SO Populate of Eishandruu Pica

[Ansisa]

Ansisa watched him go, the kiss he'd placed on her cheek rising a swell of warmth in her chest as she felt the surge of emotion behind it. For a heartbeat, she simply stood enraptured by him, their surroundings momentarily forgotten, yet all too quickly the cavern came back into sharp focus.

As Malum reached the steps at the bottom of the stage, the chiss's demeanour shifted. She was the Shadow Hand, Second in Command of the Tsis’Kaar, she had a reputation to uphold. A cold steely mask settled across her face, her emotions reigned back into tight control before she turned to move among the guests.

There were an announcements that caught her ear, the first was that of Quinn Varanin, Princess of Eshan and one Malum considered a good friend, a woman she was long overdue an introduction to. She watched her enter the room with every ounce of regality that her title begat. Ansisa began to trail her at a distance, waiting for an opportune moment to catch her attention before a face she was all too familiar with slid in beside the Princess.

Ansisa felt the weight of the shikaars hidden within her robes as Darth Anathemous entered her line of sight. It was only at Malum's wish that the governor of Echnos did not have her name etched into.one of the assassin's glass blades. Swallowing the flash of anger, her expression one of practised indifference she joined the pair.

“Princess, Governor.” She inclined her head to each of them, her tone laced with ice as she greeted Kaila, before turning her attention to Quinn. “Thank you for coming, Princess, I know Lord Malum will appreciate you showing your support.”

Tags: Quinn Varanin Kaila Irons
Mentioned: Darth Malum of House Marr

 

[Alina Tremiru]

"Oh it certainly does prey on your weaknesses whenever they show themselves. It's part of how they make a Sith strong, or the like. The trick isn't having no weaknesses though, it's just in not showing them." Her gaze had shifted as she spoke, her eyes now distant as she focused elsewhere. Quinn Varanin had arrived. Alone, much to Alina's surprise and her own curiosity. A curiosity that lasted only for a few moments. Quinn was never the type to be alone for long. People wanted her attention. The last thing Alina wanted was for her to be alone.

".. Mm?" She glanced back to the Acolyte, blinking briefly before she shrugged her shoulders with a smirk. "A secret admirer, perhaps, looking for a rendezvous after the party. Or an assassination attempt, it's always one of those two. Do you get notes like that in school, still, perhaps?"

Adean Castor

 

[Darth Malum of House Marr]

"Presenting Lord Dvasius, High Inquisitor and Once Apprentice to the Queen of Shadows."

"Presenting Darth Falentra, Once Apprentice to the Lord of the Tsis'Kaar."

"Presenting Quinn of House Varanin, Princess of Eshan."

The names which unfurled out from the herald's lips, were names that brought a smile to Malum's hidden features in each their own way. Of course, normally he might have chided them for leaving their arrival so close, yet, he imagined they would only gaze upon him in puzzlement if he tried.

They all had the flair for the theatrical, dramatics flowed through their veins as easily as the viscous coppery liquid which sustained them. Of course, too, it might have been rather hypocritical, for him of all people to chide others for their dramatics. If there was any who in this Order who might have played for such things far too much...

...Well, his name might have been mentioned more times than he would have liked.

It was strangely comforting for his mind to drift to them, they were not the ones of rank and station like the other Tsis'Kaar gathered, like the lords and ladies of the Order and Empire summoned, they were not ones which were held to his heart in the utmost passion, that would have influenced him into action most disastrous, like that of his loves romantic and filial.

But they each held a connection to him.

His co-apprentice, his apprentice, and...

...Whatever confusing mesh of emotions, both felt and felt, that was what the figure known as Quinn Varanin brought out of him.

He allowed himself a breath, as the lighting consigned itself to its darkest form, the only grand place of illumination, both from above and centred, was upon the stage itself. As more and more eyes drew themselves to him, even as a fair few continued on their own private conversations, at this moment, he had two for which he could not be more grateful.

The mask, which as was its way, masked all which he felt.

And indeed for those scant few that did not stare. No doubt it would only be after this event that such disrespect would grow to grate upon his nerves. Yet, that his future's strife, and as it stood, as his heart hammered in his chest, and his lips were chapped and drying, his present's strife seemed far more terrifying, such that a future felt like it was far from certain.

But always, they had their duty, their parts to play. This was simply his, the one he had chosen for himself.

He took a step forward, his boots filled with iron, as they felt the epicentre of quakes that only he could feel, his breath caustic like a breath taken during a sandstorm, as hundreds of eyes, of different colours and makes gazed, suspicion, curiosity, impassivity, and a smattering of other thoughts, feelings, and expressions.

"Years ago, when I was but a boy, the Tenth Sith Empire fell, an Empire which our people called home, which controlled a quarter of the galaxy, fell," He began his words, the anvil raising from his chest with every word, as like honey they spilt from his lips, as his gaze fell upon different faces across the room, "Many of you who stand here now, witnessed the Fall firsthand, my own earliest memories is of the flight from Bastion, as the world crumbled around us." Despite the intensity of the voice, its waves spilling out across the cave walls in sordid echo, the sombreness was as present as the sweetness of tea.

His hand drew itself forward, as easily as the gaze fell upon the audience, his fingers made a sweeping arc, embracing them all under a ghostly touch, "How many of you lost loved ones to the wars that erupted in those dark days? How many Sith were killed in battles to only protect what was held in sacred trust for us? What hope was there as we battled with blades against our perennial foes of Jedi and Alliance, only to be found with daggers in our backs as traitors from within broke us, to then not even speak of the Bryn'Adul."

He took another step forward, as now both arms felled forward, as was caught within the momentum of rhetoric, "I lost my grandparents in the war, figures who determined I as who I am, those whom I never held the opportunity to meet, butchered, my family forced to abandon their homes to flight out in far away Jutrand, as we lost so many of those that meant all to us, how many cousins, how many uncles and nephews, how many aunts and nieces? We might never know."

The words slowed, ever still passionate, even as the sombreness returned to the clipped voice, the mask remained unchanged, but the form which the mask wore provided all the expression it required. Turning away from the audience, for the barest moment, as his breath hitched.

"...This not a story that is rare, this is not a story which is rare, a story shared in kind with so many in this room, it is a story that is felt clearly in our very bones," The voice quieter, still was a voice that strummed along drums, as he turned back to consider them all, his heart caught in his throat, as familiar and unfamiliar faces melded into one.

His people.

"It is, in fact, a story which is remembered ever keenly by our people, a collective memory which despite all our triumphs, all our success, all our victory, can never be forgotten," Red eyes closed themselves off from the world, as a thousand different thoughts swelled and swayed within his mind's eye, a breath of fresh air stolen for himself as the amulet around his neck burned warmly a comfort, while a voice, ever familiar, ever-present, was oddly... comforting.

His eyes snapped open, as he felt the fire stir, "Before that, years ago, before I was a twinkle in this galaxy's eye, the Ninth Sith Empire, known as the One Sith fell," His steps began along the horizontal notion, the border of the abyss below was filled with hungry eyes, as he walked the stage's length, feeling the quakes caused by his boots, as easily as his heart beat in his ears, "An Empire that broke the perfidious Republic, that restored us to our rightful place in the Core, a home for our people, was broken," A haunting chuckle permeated across the room by the end of the words, one that was entirely out of character for the mask of which it originated, as he stilled upon the stage, raising his gaze once more, "I imagine few of us directly remember such events, I imagine fewer of us directly lost in such events," He allowed himself a wistful sigh, a sombering, pained sound, as eyes regarded the gathered establishment, "Yet we remember still, our people remember, we remember how even before that, the Eigthth Empire fell, unable to break the Republic, betrayed by Moridinizids, and with Dromund Kaas, one of our ancient homes, to be permanently scarred by an asteroid."

"We remember The War of the Fittest, as the thousand-year rule stemming from Darth Ruin, and ending with Skere Kaan was brought low, we remember ancient names, Sidious, Revan, Vitiate, Naga Sadow, Ajunta Pall, those figures, those gods and saints worshipped in Eternalist churches, we remember their triumphs, we remember their falls, as too, our people fell, again, and again."

He held his head low by the end, that all which he studied strumming in his brain in remembrance of all that they had lost.

Of all that had been stolen from them.

He raised his head once more, "It is not purely to speak of our... difficult history, that I invited you all here today, as indeed the invitations were made out, this is a celebration, a celebration for all that we have accomplished this last year, yes, but too, since the Fall," He raised his arms in the air, the puppeteer dancing his dance, as above them a projector played the victories which had strummed outwards from Jutrand, "We expanded our borders outwards, claimed a piece of the galaxy to make new home for our people, we retook our ancient homes within the Caldera, that seemed impossible in the days of the Ashlan Crusade, we crushed the Rimward Trade League underfoot to seize their worlds, we broke the power of the Empire of the Lost at Tion, and we turned back the Alliance at Sluis Van, Echnos, and of course, here upon Dorvalla too."

A smile that was as feigned as it was forged fluttered through the words spoken, like butterflies upon a field, small, but seen... felt.

"It is not enough."

The smile gone, as the voice seemed to entirely shift, a whip cracking in the air, as the words hissed through his lips, "Millenia of suffering, millenia of pain, have brought us to this precipice edge, you can feel it in the air, a crackling change, a moment which the galaxy sees only rarely, a time of change, and a question of who shall ride it."

He let out a shallow breath, as a hand pulled towards his mask, a gentle hiss erupting as it unclasped from its hook upon his face, revealing to all, his elegant majesty, the noble face, shrouded in long raven locks, thin lipped, with an aquiline nose, and red eyes, with quiet embers, threatening to become a wildfire.

"Yet, as we celebrate the victories of the Sith, at an event hosted by the Tsis'Kaar, it is only right that too the purpose of this gathering was for a celebration of them, those noble warrior poets of ours, whom so many of them stand here now," The smirk was easy on his revealed face, as he looked upon the masks of those who followed him, those of whom, had chosen him, despite it all, "For every campaign that the Empire has set out upon, that which we have provided intelligence for, for every attack against the Empire that was thwarted by our shikkars, for every campaign of which our masks led the charge, and of course..." The smirk widened, "Our own victory upon Echnos these past moons."

Poking the bear, he saw the eyes shift, he felt the whispers buzz, scandal, veritable scandal.

"...Yes, we have done well, we have done our duty to the Empire, and shall continue to do so," He cut through the whispers as easily as sword bade cleanly through limb, "...But, we are not ones to rest upon our laurels, we are not ones to grow stagnant, and there is much more for us to do."

His eyes traced the faces of all which stared up at him, he swallowed the protrusion by his throat, as he felt how truly dry his lips were.

"We are known for many a thing, some across this Empire, some in this very room in fact, will look upon our Ouroboros and see deceit, see traitors, who escaped justice," His voice stilled as the whispers burst forth once more, the crowd below, growing increasingly incensed, and pushed in two very radically different directions, "But what I see, gazing upon you all, those part of our brotherhood, those most welcome guests, masked, unmasked, helmed, and unhelmed, young, and old, is very simple," He paused, the entreaties of rhetoricians passing his mind, as all he had learned of the art pooled within his heart and mind, "Sith, WE ARE THE HEIRS OF THE EMPIRE!" His voice boomed, crackling as it resounded through the air, utterly breaking the relative quietude otherwise established.

"And as its heirs, its our solemn duty, to bring about the victory which our forefathers have attempted for thousands of years!" His voice rose in the passions which he so keenly felt, "Yet, we cannot in this Empire, not as things are now, disorder and rebellion is rife across our worlds, the economy flounders as our people suffer in continued bids to remain afloat, while our great dream of an offensive against the Alliance to retake the Core stalls."

His eyes rest upon them, gazing at them all each individually, eyes that revealed nothing but the fire wishing to be freed.

"I lay no blame, for as is our history, we have each time done all that was required for our survival against a galaxy that so despises us, hates us, we held not the capability for the highmindedness preached by those who have never been pushed to the utter brink, for there is no act that is so vile if it saves a nation." Truths and lies blurred, as he spoke earnestly ever still, "But, as ever we remain at times our greatest foes, such that I announce now, for all to hear, that the Tsis'Kaar as ever repudiate the acts of treason committed in pasts, that we remain ever committed to the dreams of a Sith Empire which spans the cosmos, I reach out to Darth Carnifex in this public display, calling for him to join me in this moment of unity, that we not repeat the mistakes of the Tenth and Ninth Empires, that we do not fight amongst ourselves, when already so many enemies surround us!"

It hurt, he could feel the pains in his chest with every word spoken, but he spoke them nonetheless, spoke what was necessary, spoke what was needed.

"We have always been the preservers of the Sith, this has been our manifest object, but..." He trailed off, mentally preparing himself for the crescendo to swing, "...It is no longer enough, this is our Empire, this is our home, we are its heirs, we are its guardians, for us to triumph, both over ourselves, and our enemies, it shall require us to do more than preserve," He flung out both his hands, open, wide, offering himself to the crowd, as his heart filled, "I ask you now, will you join me in my dream? That we commit ourselves to our Empire, that we commit ourselves to riding the change necessary to bring about its renewal, its reform, to a state that shall protect our people, that shall not fall."

He stared at those eyes, all the emotions which he saw in them still persisted... but mayhaps... mayhaps, their hearts were changing?

"I do not say these things emptily, many of you expected announcement with the invitations, well, this is it. I announce that the Tsis'Kaar shall fully devote themselves into the effort to create the Third Legion, with resources to be brought from the various Tsis'Kaar worlds to permit its construction, a force that will join our brothers in the First and Second to bring fear to the hearts of our enemies, and to defend the sanctity of our people." The crescendo was not yet reached, but he was not yet done.

"I announce the Tsis'Kaar shall engage in a campaign to destroy the criminal underground of Jutrand, to free our people from the chains of disorder and chaos, spreading out to touch every system in our Empire, such that our people will remain safe, hale, and healthy, a campaign to challenge the power of rebels, seperatists and traitors on our frontier, that seek to bring an end to our Empire."

He breathed in through his nostrils, closing his eyes to the world for a moment, as he simply for barest second... was alone, the crescendo approached, and he was unsure if his heart could take it.

His eyes snapped open, the blaze now revealed, "And I announce the creation of the Imperial Party," His coup de grâce, "A party of likeminded souls that are committed to the renewal, to the reform, of the Empire of which we all hold so dearly in our hearts, I will sponsor any such governor of any world, who holds these values true, who see the failings of our Empire, not as design, not as personal advantage, but as an obstruction to our victory, as a problem to be fixed. Worlds such as Sluis Van, Tion, and Makem Te need to be rebuilt! A government corrupt and decrept, requires definition and change! An economy grounding upon the weight of a war, only satisfied with more conquest, as our offensives stall requires management! Problems which we see, so plainly, but have thus far ignored, require readdress."

He allowed himself another breath, gazing out to all those gathered, would it be enough?

He could hardly say.

But it needed to be, or all else, it would all cease to matter.

"We Marrs know of duty, our forefather was named Lord of it, and we have served loyally the Sith for over four thousand years," He raised his arm, forward, making motion to grasp the hearts of those in front of him, "We will continue, for another four thousand years, but I can no longer sit aside, and watch once more as our Empire falls, as our people suffer, so I can only ask you here, all of you, here and now."

His vision circled, the predatory bird gazing upon the carcass in front of him, hundreds of faces, familiar, unfamiliar... his people.

"Will you join me?"

Zari Daal Reicher Vax Trayze Tesar Mariah of House Marr Alina Tremiru Pom Stych Tivé Adean Castor Ansisa Credius Nargath Darth Imperius Nerralyn Raaf Akhuul Sautra Lodd Grimmin Lucette Darth Callidus Lord Dvasius Zanami Ellissanthia Madelyn Lowe Quinn Varanin Omon Kaa / Darth Diem Lady Falentra Eira Dyn
Mentioned: Darth Carnifex

 

[Quinn Varanin]

//: Kaila Irons //: Ansisa //:
//: Dress //:

Quinn felt a bit intoxicated from shotgunning the two champagne glasses and soon to be third. Feeling stressed and overwhelmed was an understatement, but she had promised to be here for this cave celebration for Malum. She finished the third glass and looked around; it seemed all the waiters had found others to serve for the time being. Quinn didn't want to move from her spot; it was comfortable, and the people in the area had already acknowledged the royal. This left her alone to contemplate her situation.

Every so often, she would look towards Alina, but when she glanced at the woman, she was busy - even talking to some awkward-looking sith who couldn't walk. Quinn felt pity for him; maybe something was wrong with him - one's health was always such a fickle matter. Hopefully, the man knew his options, and Sith magic could fix his ailments. Her eyes returned to Alina and then back towards her empty glass. Cursing again under her breath, she wiggled the empty glass, hoping the Moon would bless her with a new one.

Instead, the universe had other plans, and Quinn made a slight noise of acknowledgment when a familiar voice spoke to her. Looking up from the rim of the sad, now dry champagne glass, Quinn finally visually saw who had spoken to her. The pout turned into a smile as she reached out and hugged the other woman. "A sight for sore eyes," Quinn said as she squeezed the woman. The usual air of superiority dissipated for just a moment as Quinn Varanin's more girlish charm took over. Releasing the woman, the princess examined the dress and playfully 'wooed' with her arms up slightly. "That's a gorgeous dress; you clean up well, Governor." Quinn teased and grasped the Darth's hand.

"I've found my escort for the evening, and there's nothing you can do about it, Kaila, so just accept it." Quinn wiggled the empty glass towards the trapped woman. The "Princessness" of the royal was on full display again, but they were interrupted by a Chiss woman. As she approached and greeted the pair, Quinn's face lit up immensely. She had no idea who the woman was but was extremely happy to see her. "Oh! Tell Malum, I'm excited to see what he has planned - also a cave, curious choice, but I dig it." Quinn smiled and looked at Kaila, who unfortunately got a cold reception from the Chiss. Curious matter; maybe Malum had only told her that she would be serving the princess and not a guest. "I'm sorry for my mistake, I didn't have an escort, but now I do; I'll make sure to tip you for the added trouble. But could you be a darling and take the empty glass and bring us two new glasses? I want to have champagne after Lord Marr's speech." Quinn pulled a few credits from a clutch and held it with her fingers as she handed the Chiss woman the glass.

"Thank you. Do you have a name? I want to make sure that when I speak with Malum, I can thank him personally for your cheerful service."

Around them, Malum's speech began. Quinn listened while continuing to hold Kaila's hand. The words he was saying were like a history lecture, and while Quinn didn't do well in history, he did a pretty good job keeping her attention. It was not until the mention of the 8th Sith Empire that his words minced the efforts of her Mother, the Empress, during that period of wild coups and political backstabbing.

"How rude…" She chirped under her breath as she angrily chewed the inside of her cheek. Did he mention the 8th Empire because he knew she would be here? "Quite the showman, that bantha butthole." Quinn groaned, still waiting for her champagne and clapping with the rest of the crowd.

 

[Adean Castor]

TAG: Alina Tremiru

"Precisely the reason not to share, especially in a public setting such as this." There was precisely no one in the galaxy at large that had earned Adean's trust enough to remotely consider venting. The weight of such a realization was too heavy to handle, so she simply refused to linger on the fact.

As Alina's attention shifted to the academy instructor ( Quinn Varanin ) mingling elsewhere, Adean could practically feel that the time for the grand speech was nearing. Grabbing a drink of her own, she prepared to draw closer to the stage, stopping when Alina's attention shifted back. The level of how casual the Sith was about how the exchange with the drunk stranger could be either an expression of admiration or plans for assassination was baffling to the acolyte, especially the latter. When the question was turned on her, she hesitated.

"No, I haven't received anything like that, at least," she responded with a nervous chuckle. "People don't exactly notice I'm there." It was how she liked it, at least that's what she told herself. Nevermind how moments such as this or other social gatherings it meant she was forced to acknowledge just how along she was, even in a crowd.

The mood of the area shifted as at least the man of the hour spoke. Adean found herself struggling to keep her attention from slipping as the history lesson began. The first time she made accidental eye contact with Darth Malum of House Marr she quickly averted her gaze. The second time around, she'd caught on that it was an intentional move to target everyone.

Her brow furrowed when at long last, the speech shifted from history and summary to actual plans of action. Had she been more ingrained with the arts of spies and managing them, she would've disapproved of the plans to take down the Jutrand underground. As immoral as it was, there was information to be gained there, resources to gather discreetly. She nearly scoffed at the announcement of the Imperial party. Surely, it was just another power grab - like they'd all seen a thousand times over.

And yet, a part of her had to wonder, what if it wasn't power and power alone? What if that was a way to maintain her cover while not fully succumbing to the cruelty that seemed almost expected of her? A part of her recognized the notion was likely ridiculous, especially given her age and current stature. Another, slightly less controlled part of her countered that point with the fact that Darth Malum himself didn't seem too much older than her.

It was definitely something to consider, even if it was a pipe dream.

 

[Omon Kaa / Darth Diem]

---

He was stabbing the 'Rancor's bone' on top of the glass, with his mask-extendable straw. Wasn't for the first time either, he was trying to pull a sip for some 30 seconds. But after a while, the alcohol flew in to his mouth.

On the bar behind him, 3 empty glasses of same shape stood empty.

Some princess or other was announced, and Diem did his best casual glance and check her out. Maybe it was because he don't see princesses often. Or maybe he was just feeling flushed from all this alcohol.

In any case, she did look good.

He only then noticed the pack of people, aliens and humans alike, all in some heavily important conversations it seemed.

"Should have brough a date, Bogan damn it.." he thought for a moment. But then concluded against it, he'd have to listen to her.

As lights dimmed suddenly, leaving just one shining brightly to the stage.. it made him push his bone cookie on the floor. It was far below and too dark to retrieve it, and the five seconds rule seemed to be jetting away with great speed.
He grunt in to the floor, from his tall stool.

His friend and boss took the stage. And the words started to fly like notes of the song.

"He was always good at politicking" he acknowledge. Realized that each word was making him more and more drowsy.

Drowsy and angry at the same time.. strange feeling.

Darth Malum of House Marr was counting every time they failed, every old "Legend" that didn't amount to Bantha's steam pile.

"You making me even more depressed damn it" he said to himself, while turning for 180 and placing his head on to the bar.

"I ask you now, will you join me in my dream? That we commit ourselves to our Empire, that we commit ourselves to riding the change necessary to bring about its renewal, its reform, to a state that shall protect our people, that shall not fall."

"I need to get out of here.. I need an apprentice, and I need to disappear in to random part of Galaxy. Dark Side has abandoned us, I gotta go back to basics.."
Thoughts collided with eachother in his head, while he was blowing a small paper ornament off the table.

After a minute or two, his mask started to hurt his face.. guess manufacturer didn't think about resting head on the stone bar.
He upright himself like a doll, and spin again for 180.

His eyes found and narrowed down on the princess again. He wasn't searching, she was just there.

"I'm good looking.. what.. Pureblood Sith.. well, half-pureblood. Guess mut-pureblood then, but what.." while thinking, Diem rested both of his elbows on the bar, observing.

"All princesses love lightsabers.. unless she uses one. But still, she'll think its cavalierly to light this damn pitch black a bit.."..

"Will you join me?"

Diem span his lightsaber with his left, and ignite. Red crimson luminated the room, while tip of it stuck in to the chunk of the stone bar.

---

 

[Darth Callidus]

Tags: Darth Imperius Credius Nargath Akhuul Sautra Ellissanthia Darth Malum of House Marr

Darth Callidus remained silent as the young Dark Councillor's speech unfolded, her amber eyes fixed on Darth Malum with an intensity that betrayed nothing of the thoughts coursing through her mind. The chamber seemed to hold its breath as his words echoed against the cold stone walls, a calculated blend of passion, history, and ambition. He spoke with conviction, his rhetoric carefully sculpted to stir the hearts of those gathered—a plea for unity, a vision of renewal, and a promise of purpose.

When the speech concluded, Callidus raised her gloved hands and offered a measured round of applause. It was not the wild fervor of a zealot, nor the reluctant gesture of the disinterested. It was polite, deliberate, and intentional—a signal to those around her that the speech, for all its theatricality, had been well-delivered.

"Well spoken," she murmured to those nearest her, her tone smooth but distant. "He has a gift for capturing the room. Few would dare to speak so boldly of renewal and reform in our fractured Empire."

Yet beneath her composed exterior, her mind churned. The contradictions of the gathering now extended to the very speech that sought to justify it. Malum's vision of unity and reform was bold, but it teetered on the precipice of idealism. The creation of a Third Legion, the eradication of criminal networks, and the formation of an Imperial Party—these were ambitious goals. And in a galaxy ruled by Sith, ambition was a currency as dangerous as it was powerful.

She turned her attention to those around her—Darth Imperius, the enigmatic Akhuul Sautra, and the unsettling presence of the Lord of Hunger. Each of them, like her, would weigh Malum's words through the lens of their own agendas. Callidus knew that support for the Imperial Party would be as much about personal advantage as it was about ideology.

Her thoughts shifted to the Tsis'Kaar themselves. Malum spoke of their role as preservers and their newfound purpose as reformers, but could they truly cast aside the chains of secrecy and deceit that defined them? A public proclamation such as this was anathema to their nature, and she could not help but wonder if it would mark the beginning of their unraveling. For now, however, she would play her part.

"The Imperial Party," she mused aloud, her voice quiet but cutting. "A fascinating proposal. It promises much, but promises have a way of crumbling under the weight of reality." She glanced at Darth Imperius, the faintest glimmer of dry humor in her expression. "What do you make of this new dream, my lord? Do you see it as a spark for renewal, or merely the kindling for another firestorm?"

Her gaze lingered briefly on Akhuul Sautra, her curiosity about the robotic Sith still simmering beneath the surface. "And you, Darth Cryptis? Does this vision align with the purpose you have reclaimed, or do you find it as contradictory as the gathering itself?"

As the applause faded and the murmurs of the crowd resumed, Callidus turned her attention back to Malum. She would support this new endeavor for now—outwardly, at least. But in the shadows of her mind, doubts festered, coiling like smoke. The Sith were creatures of ambition and betrayal, and she knew all too well that the path to unity was often paved with blood. For now, she would watch, listen, and calculate, as she always did. After all, the shadows were her domain, and she thrived in their embrace.

 

[Alina Tremiru]

"No wonder the Tsis'kar decided to pick you up."

Alina spoke that softer this time around, in part because Darth Malum of House Marr had taken to the stage to begin his speech. She kept a soft smile on her face as she listened, though this wasn't the type of smile that reached her eyes. This speech, it wasn't one she wanted to hear again. Another united force of the Sith, to be the grandest and most powerful like never before.

She knew these words well. She lived by those words in the last Empire under Joycelyn Zambrano and Darth Prazutis . She fought those wars on the front lines. Lost her friends in the academy, loyal soldiers under her banner, her very arms and flesh. An Imperial party. Again. Run by assassins no less. It was the sound of a lightsaber, though, that pulled her attention.

Another drunk, this one looking to bother Quinn Varanin . For a brief moment, she felt the urge to step over. She had before, hadn't she? But she didn't this time. Quinn had already seemed to move on, after all. Those with her would keep her safe in her drunken state. Probably. They'd better.

"What do you think of his words, Brassius?"

Adean Castor

 

[Lucette]

Lucette had sat through Lord Marr’s theatrics with an air of polite detachment, her hands folded neatly in her lap, her expression revealing nothing of the exasperation stirring beneath her composed facade. She was, after all, her mothers’ daughter—a product of Dosuun’s refined courts and military precision, with the Fortan family name demanding she exhibit poise in the face of absurdity. Yet even she had her limits.

As the Sith Lord’s grandiose speech finally drew to a close, Lucy allowed herself a slow, measured breath. Her gaze shifted across the room, catching the quiet murmurs and exchanged glances of the attendees. She could practically hear her mother, Aerys, muttering about the inefficiencies of Sith politics. Bluster without action, the imagined voice scoffed. It was a thought she echoed inwardly as she rose from her seat with quiet determination. The young woman tucked the brownies in their tupperware and set the playing cards aside.

“Auntie,” Lucette said softly, her tone measured and polite, as she turned to Nerralyn. “I believe I’ll take my leave. The evening has been… informative, but I think it best I return to Dosuun. If you don’t mind, I’ll take my own shuttle.”

Before stepping away, Lucy turned her attention to Madelyn Lowe, who had been a silent, intriguing presence throughout the event. With a warm smile, Lucette inclined her head slightly. “Lady Lowe, I cannot tell you how much I’ve enjoyed our conversation earlier. If you should find yourself with time, I would be delighted to host you on Dosuun. My cousin, Grand Vizier Ivalyn Yvarro, would be most honored to meet you as well. It would be lovely to continue our discussions in more tranquil surroundings.”

Lucy returned the smile, her satisfaction at the response hidden beneath her polished demeanor. “Safe travels, Lady Lowe,” she said, her voice warm but succinct, before turning to make her way toward the exit.

As the crisp night air greeted her, the teenager paused at the ramp of her waiting shuttle. She cast one last glance back toward the illuminated hall, now abuzz with conversations and whispers stirred by Marr’s declarations. Her gaze lingered for a moment, cool and contemplative, before she turned and ascended the ramp, the soft hiss of the shuttle doors sealing behind her.

“Home,” she murmured to herself, settling into her seat as the engines purred to life. “Dosuun has always been far more civilized.”


Nerralyn Raaf | Madelyn Lowe

 

[Kaila Irons]

Wearing: Dress | Circlet | Amulet
Tag: Quinn Varanin Ansisa

Kaila closed her once cautious eyes and allowed herself a brief and much needed respite as she found her way into the arms of the princess, one of few places that felt like home of late.

"You know I can't stay away for long." she smiled, holding on tight.

When at last they parted in their embrace, it was as if all else had ceased to be, her worries far behind and her mission abandoned in favor of a new quest; soak up every second of time she had left with the princess, and maybe help undo or even aid in whatever mess she made. It wasn't often that Kaila, the ever diligent logistician and soon to be warlord of the Second Legion, had such opportunities to unwind nor such pleasant company.

"That's a gorgeous dress; you clean up well, Governor." Quinn teased and grasped the Darth's hand.

"I've found my escort for the evening, and there's nothing you can do about it, Kaila, so just accept it."

Kaila blushed, performing a half hearted little curtsy with her free hand. The princess had a funny way of making her feel less like a sith and more like a... person, really.

Though her wit was no less sharp for it.

"And what manner of escort do you desire, your highness? Guardian, a plus one, or perhaps... something else?" she leaned in to whisper the last with a cheeky grin.

“Princess, Governor.” She inclined her head to each of them, her tone laced with ice as she greeted Kaila, before turning her attention to Quinn. “Thank you for coming, Princess, I know Lord Malum will appreciate you showing your support.”

Her smile deadened as a familiar voice so sweetly, so coldly, assaulted her ears with a name which once belonged to her.

Princess. That is what the chiss assassin once called her in simpler times. Perhaps not better times, though if one could turn back the wheel of time to relive that night on Seswenna, Kaila had to wonder if she might.

But soon such pleasant delusions were shattered as if an icy lake punctured by the steel of man as present circumstances dawned on her, and the use of her official title became apparent. Kaila held onto Quinn's hand a little tighter, and even as she glanced away, relieved that her earlier comments were shared only in whispers, it was clear to see whatever she and Darth Anguina shared that night had been shattered long ago.

"Oh! Tell Malum, I'm excited to see what he has planned - also a cave, curious choice, but I dig it."

But Quinn had a way of cutting through tension with a gentler touch than most.

"That was terrible, princess."

the barest smiled played at the corner of her lips.

"One might call it a..." she rolled her eyes for even thinking of this "...rocky start."

"I'm sorry for my mistake, I didn't have an escort, but now I do; I'll make sure to tip you for the added trouble. But could you be a darling and take the empty glass and bring us two new glasses? I want to have champagne after Lord Marr's speech."

Kaila still got a laugh out of the encounter however, just not from their dirt cheap puns. Rather it was the surely embarrassing absurdity of seeing Darth Anguina, apprentice to the Boy King of Alvaria, mistaken for a waitress. The Governor of Echnos visibly stifled her own snickering behind her free hand, unsure whether the Princess of Eshan was up to no good or genuinely clueless, for it was so hard to tell with that mischievous echani.

"Princess~" she hummed sweetly in Quinn's ear, although she kept an eye on the chiss all the while, curious if she would pick up on the familiar way she used that name. Perhaps it would make the assassin jealous, or even better, she would tell Marr and he would know that she'd stolen his dear princess right out from under his nose.

"That is Darth Anguina, dear. Marr's apprentice, if I am not mistaken."

Truth be told, Anguina had told her very little in those times when they were not preoccupied with other means of communication. She didn't even know the woman's true name, or if she simply preferred her sith titles instead.

Speak of the devil however, Darth Malum's voice boomed distantly over the chaos, attracting the young darth's gaze momentarily.


The speech would have been somewhat rousing, were it not a lie. The irony that he struck the first blow against her former master on Echnos in his zealous theft of a battle that was rightfully hers, only to now preach of unity, was not lost on her. Nor had it escaped her notice he claimed her victory for the Tsis'kaar, when what little had been accomplished that day was her doing, albeit it with The Empress' permission.

Though she took some pride in knowing that she'd stopped him and Carnifex from turning the incident into a civil war.

"We haven't flown his banners since The Empress and I made him leave Echnos. I'd hardly call that a Tsis'kaar victory." she sighed.

 

[Pom Stych Tivé]

​

"Life is like that," she responded in lite conversation with Trayze Tesar . "It takes testing in numerous different skills to discover one's innate aptitude." Not many master every skill they attempt. Some things are far from common abilities, which require astute comprehension.

"I am not often studied," she said, understanding how her presence typically draws attention, followed by immediate aversion, specifically due to her ritualistic accessories. The twelve Nightsister Matriarchs, who the Mistress permits to possess her and who form the coven the Wanica 13, peeked out from behind the curtain between the physical and ethereal realms, to look the intrusive Acolyte square in the eye, stemming through Pomstychtivé's. He would see them as ghosts over her. She forced a smile, a placid one, all teeth, as did the faces of the twelve souls who surfaced. The exchange was very short lived, a mere instant, as opposed to the agony of what was about to happen next!

She focused on their host as he began his speech, a repeat. She hates politics…and 'the Imperials'? That sounds like it had been done before, and it brought about a Civil War. Malum took his jabs at her family too, stating recent history which makes her feel as unwelcome as she appreciated having to listen. Malum ruined every hope she had to just have a good time out in public. Then he spoke of Carnifex…

To only add to her sudden annoyance…a lightsaber is initiated in the room by Omon Kaa / Darth Diem . Probably nothing, just not the main event for what she would call a party. 'Not to mention, where is the fun of the bonfire?'

"This party is over for me," she sighed. "Men!" About to Apparate into thin air, the Matriarch bid the Acolyte, "Zyemus naktis."
​

 

[Trayze Tesar]

CURRENT MISSION - Of Caves and Conversations
Immediate Goals -
1: Have some lighthearted conversations with your estranged cousin, Darth Malum of House Marr
1.1: Have some difficult conversation with your soon-to-be even more estranged cousin, Darth Malum of House Marr
2: Chin-wag with the Queen of Witches
2.1: Investigate the red Twi'lek... (optional)

BLUFOR - Darth Malum of House Marr et. al.

OPFOR - Enemy Unknown

TARGETING ACTION(S) - Pom Stych Tivé || OPEN FREQUENCY

---

Trayze wasn't much for expectations, having fallen under so many of them over the course of his career - while Darth Malum of House Marr had done, usurp Darth Ophidia and became an integral member of the Dark Council, he remained as a meager laborer - doing the unseen and inglorious duties for ends unseen and less hoped for. Now expectations commanded that, when the twelve ghosts revealed themselves - that Trayze would cow in fear and flee. But he wasn't much for expectations, and so despite the fear of facing the great beyond, the wrongness of binding a soul to the mortal plane and all implications that came with it, he answered the toothy smile with a gentle one, and a bow of his head.

He would have loved to inquire further, but then the Host had to deliver a speech - as all hosts are wont to do at some point or another.

The speech was certainly Malum's and while he felt vindicated that, at long last, an subject of his personal forte would be addressed. Of course, he knew of the speech - bits and pieces - especially the campaign to rid crime within Jutrand.

Yet despite the smile, he found himself conscious of the increasing ire of his conversation partner. Kainites, despite his ire and loath for the Butcher King, were sapient beings who pledged their allegiance for one reason or another - and there was something about the woman that caused Trayze to bid her to stay.
"Wait! If... If I may..." he began, his mind racing for the best way to ask the questions, to secure an opportunity before it slipped until Bogan only knows when. "If I may know... how and when best to continue my studies on you. Or if you are disinclined..." he would nod to where the ghosts once stood, and where no one else could. "Perhaps one of your associates...?"

 

[Mariah of House Marr]

Current summary: Standing aside after Malum's speech. Drink in hand.
Tags: Darth Malum of House Marr @zari daal
[OPEN]


She raised a brow at the twi'lek's answer, though she let him escort her away from the dance floor as he pointed out Malum was about to speak. Sure enough, her cousin was getting prepared. And so began a speech from Darth Malum of House Marr . Though she couldn't help but feel deep underneath that being so new to this all left her separated from a lot of his appeals, feel some spikes of guilt as she realized she'd joined a side she may have once even helped people work against and seen the pains they caused. Remembered the terror she felt when she first met Malum. And now here she was, at a party.

Because I'm no longer mortal. Mariah reminded herself, thoughts and feelings still well hidden behind a prepared mental shield, I am Eternal. I joined so I'd never have to cease. And I've made sure of it. And I'll continue making sure of it. Could anyone truly blame me for that? The jedi didn't need to be enemies of mine. It's just a consequence. They're careless, they don't feel my fear, so they die. And I live.

A moment of amusement as he mentioned the loss of his grandparents to war, now that she knew who her own were. She had little doubt the sith had something to do with their death, somehow. But there was nothing she could do about that now. Why he thought recounting the sith failings or their fallen empires would possibly help was beyond her. She glanced briefly at the twi'lek here now, then back at Malum. His people would have suffered too, a great deal. But then, here he was too. Many twi'leks had chosen the sith as a goal not just because they had to. Besides, she had to attend to herself. She couldn't waste her life on others. That was careless.

She listened as he kept pushing, pushing on their failures. Her eyes cast about the room cautiously, "Maybe going a little too hard, Darth Cousin." she said in a whisper of a whisper to herself. Then jolted ever so slightly as he shouted at the room instead. Letting out a quiet self-conscious laugh at her own shock. Still, Malum's appeals were a bit confusing. Did he really expect the sith to stop their treachery? They'd been doing that since before their creation, it was so built into sith culture she wasn't sure a sith empire could exist at all without it.

Another moment of hiding what she felt as he went onto the Marr's ancestor, simply 'Darth Marr'. But she took from that vision more than she think he could ever have wanted her too. For all Darth Marr's devotion and leadership, he died in one strike. I will not follow the lead of the reckless dead. she insisted to herself. Yet, she couldn't quite deny him either. She held out a hand, pulling a drink to her hand, hating the fact she had to pay so much mind to the act. She'd got to work on that. Then raising it to him and taking a sip. Besides, a less treacherous empire meant she was even safer.

At the very least, she credited herself with not jumping at the next surprise, when Omon Kaa / Darth Diem ignited his lightsaber, just paying careful eyes in his direction.

Spoiler: equipment

dress
ITEMS:
mariahs-necklace (worn)
WEAPONS:
Initiation (lightsaber)

 

[Darth Imperius]

Darth Callidus | Ellissanthia | Akhuul Sautra | Credius Nargath

Grand Executor. He did not remember taking Darth Halcyon into his Knights, a title reserved for them to adhere to and be reminded of their allegiance. But then again, that's what the foolish herald had shouted, so let it be.

"Darth Halcyon." He simply replied to the figure approaching ans joining. The meeting he mentioned was a long time ago and did not exactly provide a sense of safety for Sith to attend large announcements. But it was long ago and most of its participants had turned to dust already. "We will find out at the end of Darth Malum of House Marr 's speech if our armors are needed for protection from blades or against mere verbal atrocities."

The response of Akhuul was curious, especially given that his metal-skeleton self offered not much in terms of age estimation. Though his statement did so. But it was being called young that made Imperius actually look towards the Archivist, not that his helmet offered any sign of expression, but the turn itself a rather significant reaction itself.

"Usually the higher purpose of gossip is to speak half-truths and filter what you may agree or disagree with, Darth Cryptis. The Sith's secure way of finding out if the one in front is friend or foe."

It would soon fall silent as the Dark Councillor made his great speech. And he did so for quite some time. At the end, he was met with applause or cheers or nothing, depending on the individual.
Darth Imperius remained entirely motionless.

Another speech done with little more than empty promises and false praise. It seemed to be in fashion.

Not that the speech itself was not well performed ans structured, it was the content that made the Zakuulan resolutely against every word uttered.
Nostalgia? Trauma? The past? To make a turn towards unity and Sith-Imperialism again? It was as if he had not listened to his own words, as if lessons from history were a void to be recited but not understood. After having barely escaped another violent clash on Echnos, it was now a united Empire that was desired.

It would be a very intriguing thought if it would be believable.

"I see it than not much more than hot air blown into a scrubbed cave."

"Few would have the audacity to speak of unity and reform so freely after violating it so many times and undermining the essence of our Order."

The ignition of a lightsaber seemed to prove the anarchy that riddled the Tsis'kaar in his mind.

"I do not expect anything else to come from this grand gathering. Callidus, Cryptis, Halcyon. Force serve."

Those would be his parting words before he made his way towards the exit to leave this gathering, offering a nod towards the Undine as well before leaving.

 

[Srina Talon]

Location: Dorvalla

______________________________________​

She hated Dorvalla.

Not for anything it had done in recent history but for the simple fact that it was yet another site that the Alliance had dared sully in the name of liberty, puppies, kittens, and justice for all. Well, perhaps that was a slight exaggeration. Her fight with Judah Lesan on Echnos had left her with some less than favorable assumptions about the state of their northern neighbors and their proclivities. It would take more than restoration, parades, and Rites of Mourning for her to feel as if their mark had truly been wiped clean. Celebrations, however, were a necessary evil.

They spat in the face of their enemy. They uplifted the affected—And proclaimed to the rest of the Empire that the Sith Order still stood strong. They were not cowed, broken, or ineffective in the relentless war for sovereignty against those who would see their dark designs extinguished. The silent invitation that had been left on her nightstand by one Darth Malum of House Marr had not been responded to…But she arrived, regardless.

There were no garrisons that would stop to greet her, no security, that would ever see her.

No Praetorian Guard, no Sepulchral to escort her and criticize her every move. No entourage. No pomp and circumstance that would inevitably follow with the arrival of the Empress of the Order to an event that would no doubt send ripples through the Empire. She could neither support nor denounce without more information and the pale bride of the damned would rather the light remain on the Tsis-Kaar as long as possible. She had never paid any mind to political leaning, but she was Eternalist, by default.

So it was that that she stood, alone, cloaked in the folds of long dark robes. Her presence was a whisper amidst the revelry and cacophony while she spent much of her time watching over her godchild from afar. Quinn Varanin may or may not have been aware of her but it pleased her godmother all the same to see her interacting with her peers. They held similar coloring, so much so, that it was easy to assume they were blood-related. They both had glass-like skin but the elder woman seemed to take a monochromatic color scheme to a whole new level.

Gold-hewn eyes flickered through the crowd while they caught the ambient light of the cave-turned gala-space while lengths of silvery hair spilled from a partially raised hood. It shimmered like moonlight on water, an otherworldly, ethereal frame to a serene visage. Her face was not marked or horned like some of her brethren but equipped with a plain countenance that made her even more disturbing. She didn't appear to have a dangerous bone in her body. She didn't appear to have a heart of beating black and stone. She didn't look like one who would drown her enemies in their own blood and viscera—Yet she had done exactly that. Time and time again.

She wore a traveling gown beneath her cloak of obsidian silk, adorned with subtle patterns, Sith Runes, that made themselves apparent when they caught the light. It was a glamor that would cause most weaker Sith to look right past her. Their gaze would simply slide away, unless, she wanted them to see. Around her, the scent of jasmine and rain hung in the air, the mark of the concealment of her power among such eclectic masses. Most would mistake it for perfume. The more attuned would notice it above the heady mix of ambition, greed, and self-importance that thrummed in the air.

Srina left the rest of her deception to Force Clouding.

There were so many of them crammed into a small space that it was easy to become part of the scenery. To be…As invisible as she often wished she could be.

The pale woman observed the proceedings with detached grace while surveying the great and worthy that had assembled at the beck and call of the youngest Dark Councilor. Yes. She heard the rumblings and complaints but was it not they who had come at a whistle? Was it not they who had returned the summons like a loyal pack of hunting beasts? Curiosity, abound. The complexities of their society were not lost on her nor was the political theater.

Her golden gaze eventually settled on Darth Malum of House Marr while he called for attention and began to weave a tale of their history. It was known to be of triumph, suffering, and sorrow. Such was the fate of any great Empire…But there was more. It was more than just simple platitudes and tribute. Srina knew Malum quite well. His loyalty to her had yet to shake, regardless, of the opportunity…But he was still the head of an organization that bore a snake beating itself. He was still, the Lord of Deceit, a Master of Lies.

It was the legacy his former Mistress had left for him.

He was far more intelligent than most gave him credit for. Brilliant, with half-truths. He was skilled even though he hated the old guard—the likes of Darth Carnifex and her husband, Darth Empyrean —with a vehemence that was only ever kept in check by a notion of duty. It was in this speech that she could see that pressed behind a thin veneer, hidden away, where unity became the focus over his lifelong quest for vengeance and liberation from immortal tyrants. His disdain for the entrenched powers of the Sith was palpable, yet his rhetoric of progress and reform was not without merit.

Malum was a polarizing figure.

There was no doubt about that… But, he was also young, magnetic, and a skilled orator.

Believable.

A faint smile touched the kiss of her mouth. It was a rare moment of warmth amidst the constant of her wintry nature before it vanished. The call for a cohesive future for the Sith Order echoed the very ideals that she often championed, though, she was keenly aware of the irony it represented. The Eternalists were already Imperial in nature, the doctrine steeped, deeply, in dominance and order. Yet…This hinted at a more pragmatic approach, one that offered adaptation, in the face of change.

It was an interesting proposal.

Would it take flight?

Time would tell.

Her eyes lowered when the speech reached its end and voices burst into the crowd in sudden discussion. The runes that had been embedded into her gown fell inert, then, knowing that at some point Darth Malum of House Marr would realize she had attended. He was typically eager for her thoughts but she didn't intend to draw him in unless he wished it.

He would simply know that in his moment…She was there.

 

[Madelyn Lowe]

Dorvalla
With: Lucette | Nerralyn Raaf
Mentioned: Darth Malum of House Marr

Sitting there at the table with the young Imperials, their faces aglow with the orange light from the table lamp, Madelyn found herself quite charmed. Perhaps it was their always-so-proper accents, the enthusiasm of their expressions, or the delightful coincidence of their family relations. It all made Madelyn feel quite at home.

"Lady Lowe, my mothers always spoke highly of you,"

"Indeed?" Madelyn asked with a smirk. "I always worried they didn't like me. I was a bothersome gnat." She laughed to herself. "Please tell Lady Fiolette I've spent my last three summers studying her naval strategy. I'm sure she'll be glad to hear it. And, of course, Lady Arcanix's contributions go without saying." Madelyn's eyes flicked back towards the stage. "It is just such a shame there are so many who forget it was their sacrifices that laid the path for the grandeur of the Empire today."

Madelyn shook her head. "Young upstarts." she said, sighing. "But, you both seem to have a good head on your shoulders, so that's something."

"It's such an honor to meet you, Lady Lowe,"

Madelyn beamed. The young woman's enthusiasm was infectious. Though Madelyn typically dismissed such praise with a wave of her hand, it was hard not to like Lucette. She reminded Madelyn of the young and ambitious students with whom she had attended the College of Government on Dosuun. So many echoes of the past today. Thought Madelyn.

"The pleasure is all mine, Lucette." Madelyn said reassuringly. "I've always had a soft spot for the Commonwealth, as I'm sure you know."

"I brought brownies. They're, uh, really good. You're welcome to have one, if you like."

Madelyn raised her eyebrow. Considering the flutes of wine being ferried around by black-clad waitstaff, Madelyn didn't much consider this a bring your own dessert kind of event. But, Lucette was charming, and Madelyn was in a good mood, so she indulged the girl, plucking one of the squares from the box.

"Oh. These are actually very good." Madelyn said with some surprise. She dusted her hands and leaned back, just as the lights began to dim, spotlights igniting the stage a blinding light that contrasted the darkness of the figure that stood atop it. It was time for the speech.

As one of the principal figures amongst the Sith, Darth Malum's reputation proceeded him. Much that Madelyn had heard proved true. The man was a fine speaker; Quick with his words, but not careful. These were not typical characteristics for the leader of a secretive intelligence organisation. Nor those of an assassin, come to think of it. But, Madelyn understood that Malum had outgrown the bounds of his official titles.

Madelyn listened carefully to the Dark Councillor's words, managing to keep her face a pleasant mask, save for the moment he introduced his Imperial Party, when her brows knitted into a slight frown. That was certainly bold, but Madelyn had to admit there was a sort of genius to it. As the head of the Tsis'kaar, he held almost all the cards. Who would oppose him? Not the impotent Imperial Pillar, certainly. After the incident on Echnos, probably not one of his contemporaries either.

Malum, it seemed, was poised to take the Empire's administration into his own hands.

The room filled with applause, cheers, and a few jeers. Around her, some of the tables rumbled with discontent, but in this great carved hall of the Tsis'Kaar, they were in the minority. Madelyn clapped politely, and beside her, several of the guests hurried to leave. Including, it seemed, her young Imperial companion. Sensible.

“Lady Lowe, I cannot tell you how much I’ve enjoyed our conversation earlier. If you should find yourself with time, I would be delighted to host you on Dosuun. My cousin, Grand Vizier Ivalyn Yvarro, would be most honored to meet you as well. It would be lovely to continue our discussions in more tranquil surroundings.”

"You are wise beyond your years." Madelyn said with a smile. "Please inform the Grand Vizier I would be delighted."

 

[Credius Nargath]

Darth Malum of House Marr had a clear way with words, that much was certain. If that man had not been born with the gifts he had now, he would have made himself a fine politician, a spokesperson or corporate kingpin, but he was none of those, he was the one who spearheaded the Tsis'Kaar and as such, his words would be scrutinized, put under a microscope and analyzed to their fullest by all those who were present, all those who had sought to come into the cramped space on Dorvalla just to try and make sense of why this scion of the famous House Marr had deemed it necessary to gather so many of them.

"A wise fool or a foolish wise man," The words silently slipped out of the Lord of Hunger's lips as he listened to the emboldened speech of the Dark Councillor, with each passing syllable, he could feel the entirety of the people surrounding him gasp, breathe in sharply or sigh, a cacaphony of lungs bloating or deflating, hearts pounding in exasperation or rage, it was extremely loud, extremely obnoxious to the abomination, a testament to Malum's skills as an orator, but also showed that while an excellent orator... his timing might have been...off.

War was a necessity, the infighting and intrigue part of the culture the Sith purported to propagate. The entirety of the Sith believed in the contradiction that was their code. Where it stood for power, it soon brought forth intrigue and with that came the chance for the weak to dominate the strong. Yet on the other hand, the infighting, the intrigue brought forth the dominant players from the past and the present, those who could match their ambition with their skill and their mind, whose wits were just as sharp as their blades. Credius himself couldn't even refrain from letting out a sigh as well, nodding his head ever so slightly as he began to allow each and every word spoken by the dark councillor to sink into his mind, processing the text and the intention dilligently.

He could understand Darth Imperius ' actions, his behavior and calm refusal to remain at this place any longer. While the head of the Tsis'kaar seemed poised to end the factionalism, the divisions within the Sith Empire, his refusal or ignorance of understanding that his own words, his own actions and strategies as they were laid bare in his speech would only end up intensifying the factionalism and internal division seemed baffling to the Lord of Hunger. He turned towards the leaving Sith Lord of Zakuul, giving him a polite nod, respecting the man's decisive action of leaving this place. In the meantime, Credius could feel his own cold and tainted blood starting to drip from the cuts he had made on his own hand as he had clenched them together with excessive force, he was both excited for what this thought, this view on the future would bring, yet he also couldn't deny the fact that if...or rather when this decision would backfire, this eleventh empire, this long awaited restoration of Sith Power might collapse just like its forebearers.

"I think this proclamation needs some careful thought," Credius calmly noted to Darth Callidus and Akhuul Sautra , not sure if the archivist was in the loop in regards to the empire's current ever fracturing powerbase. "This is perhaps the worst time to try and call upon unity and perhaps the worst way to do so. There will be repercussions to this proclamation and I can foresee that not all of them will be in favor of the Dark Councillor."

From where he stood, the Lord of Hunger turned his attention straight towards Darth Malum of House Marr with a look of both doubt and disappointment. While he'd reiterate his opinion on the man's speechcraft and oratory acquity, clearly the abomination thought this to be a foolishly timed proclamation for the Leader of the Tsis'Kaar. By whipping up those who support him into unity, at best he'd create another faction within or outside of the Tsis'Kaar itself. "I'll continue to observe the state of the Empire... let us hope it does not lose its use."

TAG: Darth Malum of House Marr | Darth Imperius | Darth Callidus | Akhuul Sautra