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

[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 (COMPLETE - Long Term Objectives have been updated...)
2: Mingle with the mighty.
2.1: Investigate the red Twi'lek... (optional)

BLUFOR - Darth Malum of House Marr et. al.

OPFOR - Enemy Unknown

TARGETING ACTION(S) - Srina Talon || OPEN FREQUENCY

---

The message was clear, she did not expect him to survive - but for Trayze, as she made her dramatic exit, the Queen of Witches would be visited by him. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, or next week, but if there was one person who could help him untangle the mystery of the immortal soul - it would be the Witches of Dathomir.

Them, and the bloody Empress-Consort of Jutrand, who decided to grace the halls with her presence.

It was not unexpected, Darth Malum wanted as many movers and shakers in the Sith Empire in one place - but what was expected was that arguably the greatest had arrived. Who next? One of Carnifex's lieutenants would also be seen at the buffet table? While Trayze had arrived to show his solidarity to Malum's movement, he had his own ambitions, and they wouldn't squander an opportunity such as this.

Emboldened by the fact that he hadn't been turned into anything... unnatural after boldly addressing the Queen of the Dathomiri, Trayze decided to make his way over to the silver haired Mistress of the Eternalists. The Force, fortune, Bogan, or whoever was in charge of the fates appeared to be granting him the opportunity to speak, or ascertain something he had sensed at a Life Day event almost a lifetime ago.

He wanted to be true, needed it, because in a Galaxy as chaotic as this, as wretched as things have become, he needed to know that love could be true - whether or not the Empress shared his romantic sentiments would be a questioned answered at a much later date.

Regardless, Srina Talon would find Trayze in her shadow, before bowing and addressing her. "Your Imperial Majesty, you honor us with your presence. How are you?"

 

[Reicher Vax]

Dorvalla
Equipment: Standard Issue Sith Trooper Armor, Vibroblade, Standard Issue Blaster Rifle, Datapad, Cloak
Tag: Lodd Grimmin

"A new dawn, in Reicher's love life?"
​

Reicher listened intently to Lodd's words, his posture composed yet attentive, the faint glow of his crimson visor betraying no emotion. The Neimoidian's proposal was both bold and shrewd, a clear test of loyalty and mutual interest. Reicher appreciated such straightforwardness; it was a rare trait in Sith space, where schemes often twisted upon themselves like tangled wires.

He would rewatch Malum’s speech over holorecordings later, right now, this was the important topic.

He nodded slowly, the gesture deliberate. "The N&Z Corporation," he repeated, his tone even. "I've had no dealings with them, nor any particular interest in their operations. If they truly harbor influence within the Empire of the Lost, then their presence in Sith space is, as you say, unacceptable."

His voice grew sharper, more resolute. "Your proposal is clear, Trade Monarch, and I see the merit in it. A ban would remove a potential threat while solidifying our alliance. I would be willing to cast my vote in the Assembly to support such a measure. In return, I would ask for your Federation's resources to help raise Polis Massa into the industrial powerhouse it is poised to become."

Before he could elaborate further, Elara interjected with her usual flair, her voice dripping with playful sarcasm. "Oh, Reicher, you're just so good at making deals. Maybe you should add Trade Monarch to your résumé. You've already got the commanding presence for it."

Reicher's head tilted slightly in her direction, his voice steady but tinged with mock exasperation. "Viper, you do realize we're discussing matters of galactic consequence, don't you?"

She grinned unabashedly, her blue eyes sparkling with mischief. "Of course. That's why I'm here—to keep you grounded. You wouldn't want to come off too stiff in front of our esteemed guest, would you? Besides, keep that stiffness for-"

Reicher exhaled softly, cutting her off, shaking his head in resignation. "By the Force, you have to forgive her, Trade Monarch. Her… unique approach to diplomacy takes some getting used to."

Elara leaned closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper loud enough for both men to hear. "I call it charm. And admit it, Reicher—it works."

Reicher straightened, his tone regaining its composure as he addressed Lodd directly. "The Trade Federation's backing would provide the infrastructure Polis Massa needs to become a cornerstone of the Sith Empire's economy. The asteroid fields are rich, the workforce loyal, and the logistical position ideal. Together, we could ensure that Polis Massa becomes not just a supplier, but a hub of innovation and productivity."

He paused, considering the weight of the Neimoidian's request. "As for the N&Z Corporation, if they pose a threat to the Empire's stability, they will be dealt with. My vote will be yours, Trade Monarch. Stability is the cornerstone of strength, and I believe our alliance can achieve that."

Elara couldn't resist one last quip, her voice sultry as she added, "And just think, Monarch Grimmin—when the history books talk about the rise of Polis Massa, they'll say it started with us."

Reicher turned his visor toward her, his tone cool but not unkind. "You're incorrigible."

"Guilty," she replied with a wink.

​

 

[Pacificus]

| MAULKILLER ROBES | UNARMED |

OPEN INTERACTIONS​

Gilded obsidian among bloodstones.

It was an onslaught of hate. It was palpable through the air, he tasted it on his mouthparts and it sent aches through his tusks. A sensation of dread bled up through the floor and clawed its way up his veins until settling in his lower neck. Mortal and Sith alike, torches ablaze with darkfire. Bogan bred here and thrived, laigreks feasting on dead emotions.

Whatever poetic words he could dream up would die and rot upon this reality.

It hurt. Being within this space hurt him physically.

There were two shades where he stood, one in the material and one in the empyrean. The mortals were blessed to feel nothing but the atmosphere of the room. The emotional weight that the Sith birthed as any powerful being would. Imperial and domineering, their sheer force of presence would be enough. His physicality warred against this.

The golden corpse that wandered the Cosmic Force boomed. Shouts into the darkness, a heartbeat of ashla. Each blow was just enough to survive, just enough to exist in this realm of apocalypse. The Sith Lords of Old would had never imagined that the Order would climb to such levels of depravity.

Darth Malum, the Overlord of the Tsis'Kaar. Bringing a macabre nobility to the Sith that he hadn't seen in some time. The man maneuvered through politics like others would a formal gala. Twists and dips, soft words spoken into the right ears, and knowing when to remove the mask. Rumors flew low about the Household Head of Marr.

The Dathomiri Matriarch, who's name Pacificus cared not to remember. He wrote off many of the Force Orders outside of the purview of the Sith, though he was a heterodox himself. Those that were born outside of Sith doctrine held the taint of an impure, an unloving, galaxy.

Worthy of Sithdom after repentance.

An endless entourage of Darths and Lords and other titles plucked from the aether between war and politics. The significance of such decorations held as little to him as they did during the rule of the One Sith. If all were darths and royals, why did the title matter?

Another break from tradition, the rejection of minor titles.

Troopers aligned themselves at guard stations, and mortals decorated in flair and pomp made their way through the mingling. A blending of souls. Forgotten ones, dim in the light of the Cosmic Force.

He had wished to properly wine and dine with the guests and accustom himself to the culture of the Sith Order, he was a long lost brother – living and practicing in the depths of a world-city. Ideology pieced together by Gutter Sith and Dark Rejects.

He had been within proper Sith cults a handful times during his life, studying in Mustafar for a time under the Blackguard – a brief chat with a Knight of Ren.

None could give a speech like a Marr.

He weaved a tale of history that shattered the galaxy. The Rise of the New Imperial Order, the Desolation of the Galactic Southeast, and the exile of the Sith from the homeworlds. He hadn't lived this life, these experiences that the Marr preached, but it broke through the hellvoid between him and Ashla – there was a genuine despair behind it. A sadness for his people.

Eternalism, a pox upon the honor of the Old Ones. They were right to uphold them as Gods, but the Highest on High would reject what the Empire had become – how it has stagnated into petty politics and blind, undirected rage. Childish conquests among the galactic rim.

He had too many feelings in too small a space.

A Reign for a Thousand Years.

A thousand year journey he wished to be seen guided by compassion.

The Sith were on the resurgent, and he would stand with his brethren – least they fade from Ashla's Grace once more. Though, the method of rule had to change. Populations revolted, they despised their oppression. They should give themselves to their leaders, willfully enthralled, they should know no other life and fear the absence of a chain.

And this stranger to the Eleventh Sith Empire, this Exile of Light;

Pacificus held his glass high and gave a gravel lined bark.

"For the Empire, a thousand year reign!"

Sadly, he wasn't able to finish his statement with a sip of his nectar glass.

It was incompatible with his biology, it was there for show.

 

[Srina Talon]

Location: Dorvalla
Tag: Trayze Tesar

______________________________________​

Srina Talon turned slowly, eyes drawing from the floor, her form pulling on the edges of shadow that shouldn't have had any right to move on its own. When her gaze finally landed on the man that interrupted her frozen daydreaming it would feel so piercing that it seemed to cut through the dim light of the hall. The appearance of a winsome creature so alabaster, without flaw, coupled with a cold, distant aura, often made looking at her an almost painful experience. It was the weight of the sun and moon in the same dark sky, a paradox, in which satan often wore white.

There was no warmth in her expression, only, the measured detachment of one who had long since mastered the art of keeping others at arm's length.

For a moment, the noise of the gathering faded into the background, the swell of conversation and muted clicking of glassware dimming as if the very air around them bent to her will. She regarded the much taller male kiffar with calm inscrutability, primrose lips barely moving when she spoke, her words seeming to have been dipped in a layer of velvet frost. "Sargent Tesar…"

"Is it still, Sargent?"

Sith changed ranks and titles as easily as they breathed or slipped on a new article of clothing. They had been briefly introduced at an event in which Srina recalled spending a good deal of time teaching Revna to dance and hone certain gifts. She remembered that conversation more than most if only because the little apprentice had looked on with such wide, brave, eyes. That felt like…

A lifetime ago. How things had changed.

"My presence is no honor…It is recognition. It is also a burden."

No matter the intention of the Dread Queen weaving amongst the varying crowd there would be an inevitable weight added to the event. It was no longer a matter of simply announcing an imperial block from which Sith might find common ground, but a venture, in which the eyes of the Imperium were now watching. With how strained certain relations had been many would assume the worst…Even if she was the calmer, more reasonable, half of their monarchy. Her silent support came with added exposure but equal scrutiny. Both blessing, and bane.

Her gaze drifted past Trayze Tesar to briefly scan the crowd before twin orbs of gold settled back on the dread-locked man with the weight of anvils. "I am as I ever am…"

Unchanging, unmoved. It was not always pleasant to have her full attention. Especially, when she hadn't expected anyone to take note of her so quickly. Her runic wards had only just lifted to allow the leader of the Tsis-Kaar a glimpse behind the veil, but, this young man had found her almost instantly. A moth to a flame, perhaps, like the moon pulling at the tide. "Though…I do find myself curious."

"Do you believe in this vision that Darth Malum of House Marr has presented?"

The innocent question should have been warning enough that the Empress of the Order wouldn't easily engage in idle small talk when such a large announcement had just flown through the room. Undoubtedly, the news on Holo-Net was already breaking because of the implications. Were not political parties mostly frowned upon? Was there not already heavy Imperial influence from Eternalist Rule? What made this different? How would they clean out the underground? "Or are you present to observe and wait…"

"As a vulture, guards a carcass."

The once gentle tone seemed to take an edge of steel that he may or may not understand. Srina had long since grown tired of Sith claiming to have what it took to lead, to rule, but in the end, failed to achieve because the seduction of power through subversion was too strong a siren song to ignore. It was in their nature. Ambition, their weakness. She was sick and tired of watching great men tremble and tumble before their vices and wonder why they sat on a pile of ashes versus the throne.

So many, doing so much talking. Endless…Talking. Drivel. But never actually following through. Even if this ideal couldn't be the shining achievement that she was sure the Dark Councilor wanted—Srina would have pride in the fact that he stood tall, before a room, and did something rather than offering petulant naysaying and snaps about the relative youth or age of his opponents.

It was a repeat of Echnos.

It could go gloriously well.

Or terribly wrong.

Her chin rose and settled slowly on the stage once more. There was no humanity to be found in her stance, no warmth, and it would be impossible to tell what was running through her mind. Srina had long since mastered the art of keeping her thoughts and emotions tightly guarded. Whereas her godchild had been raised to royalty, Srina had been raised warrior class. Expression was not forbidden but it was deeply discouraged to keep them efficient. Obedient.

Brutal.

Srina was not one to indulge in pleasantries or engage in the politics of charm. It was still beyond her why so many felt the need to send her on diplomatic excursions when she would be far better attuned to assassination or force. Perhaps, it was because she knew the value of a scalpel when her brethren only seemed to become hammers in a room full of nails.

She drew in a gentle breath and sighed, slowly.

"…Is there something you wish of me?"

 

[Alina Tremiru]

"His audience is tired of words, and tired of claims of unification. He has an uphill battle to convince those skeptical, and to prove himself to those who do have faith in what he says." Was the nicest way Alina could put it. There were angles that this was just a show put on for his brother's betrayal, to soothe those seeking to dispose of him and everything tied to him. Ultimately it would be his actions, not words, that would convince Alina herself.

She truly hoped he had it in him.

"You're very paranoid you know. Why are you looking around? Shouldn't your familiar be looking for you?"

Adean Castor

 

[Ellissanthia]

Location: Underground Ballroom - Dorvalla
Attire: White Outfit
Equipment: Standard Lightsaber - Purple Blade │ Phase III “Force Avenger” Energy Shield │ FAE/U-01 "Serenity" Anti-Signal Field System
Tag: Pacificus

Ellissanthia listened to the speech in silence, her violet-hued gaze wide with equal parts curiosity and entrancement as Malum delivered his oration. In that regard, she was suddenly conscious of just how magnetic the Dark Councillor was as an orator, his words flowing over the presumably enrapt audience as naturally as water down a creek. Assassins though the Tsis’Kaar were, from what the Undine could ascertain, they were led by a talented elocutionist. One just as capable of weaving spells with his words as he could with the Force.

And a spell, he wove indeed.

Even with her limited political knowledge, Ellissanthia felt a small smile tug at the corners of her puffy lips when Malum was finished. Her claps came delicately and politely then. Though, she observed others with more boisterous, aggressive reactions with a measured shock, her mouth manifesting a delicate O shape as she processed the sudden ignition of a lightsaber close to the stone bar. Fortunately, recognizing that there was no immediate threat, she gave a deep exhalation of breath before shifting her attention elsewhere.

At that point, Darth Imperius made to leave, offering her a quick nod before departing the venue. It was only then that Ellissanthia realized that she was alone. Her eyes scanned across the room for the Twi’lek who had propositioned her for a dance earlier, finding neither sign nor trace of him in the process. A frown settling across her expression, the Undine gave a low sigh before pulling a spray bottle from her purse and spritzing herself with the bacta-infused liquid.

Ellissanthia too was tempted to take her leave, but sensed that it might be impolite to do so so soon. She had read between the lines of her invitation, realizing that it was not just a summons to the event itself, but also an invitation to network and consort with others.

After placing the spray bottle back inside her purse, Ellissanthia took her leave of the group. It was at that point her Sense caught the air of an abnormal presence in the Force. The Undine turned around then, recognizing the source as a bare-chested Ualaq dressed in half-robes. His exposed chest drew a slight raising of her eyebrows, in spite of the fact that her outfit was not dissimilar! Nevertheless, she recognized him as one of those who had expressed a louder reaction in response to the Dark Councillor’s speech. Eyes widening with focus, she regarded him with a curious tilting of her head, if only to attempt ascertaining what it was that made his aura so distinct from the crowd of assembled Sith Lords, Ladies, Knights, and Dark-siders.

She realized then that her efforts would be better facilitated by engaging him directly.

Ellissanthia offered the Ualaq—a Sith, from what she could judge—a subdued smile before giving a respectful inclination of her head.

“My Lord, it is an honor and a privilege to stand in your presence." Ellissanthia began, her tone as fawning as it was sickly-sweet. "Might I ask a moment of your time? How are you enjoying the party?”

 

[Pacificus]

| MAULKILLER ROBES | UNARMED |

Ellissanthia | Darth Malum of House Marr

OPEN INTERACTIONS​

Lord. Punching between his ribs, the word carved free whatever matter of decorum he was masquing under. It carried the weight of ages past, false monarchical desires and dreams of royalty. Empire as a concept had long been removed from the idea of an emperor. An autocratic realm, to be sure. A Sith was not grand because of the titles they bore – they were grand because they wrested the identity of Sith from the bleakness of despair.

The Living Sith required no adjectives or honorifics.

That was saved for the Gods Among Them.

“Kill the titles of address, what are we? Naboo from estranged dynasties meeting to arrange a political marriage? No, my name is Pacificus. Only Pacificus. You may add of Metellos if you wish, if it brings you peace.” He said this with a twinge in his eyes at the corners, picked up at the edges. It was difficult to tell, but this was the equivalent to the arachnomammal smiling. There was a slight chittering, like nails being flicked against stone, from behind his tusks.

He placed his glass onto a table, forgotten with his pageantry at the toast.

When she approached, he wanted to throw her into one of the categories of person that he knew. That of other aquatic beings, but she was foreign to him. Something unknown, and that brought him a form of joy. Another stranger in a strange land.

“I enjoy that the mortals have been given purpose here. Some outside of their station, despoils them. It weighs them down, stress – a hopeslayer. They’re simple beasts, I wish we could do more.” He fluttered his hands out in the general direction of Reicher Vax .

“He’d be much happier in a simple life. Collared and working some starwright lines, cared for. Clothed, fed, protected.” Another pseudosmile, the thought bringing him genuine joy for the future.

A future he believed he could see one day.

“That is to say, yes – I am enjoying the party. Enough macabrity, though. Not befitting us. What is your name?”

 

[Ellissanthia]

Location: Underground Ballroom - Dorvalla
Attire: White Outfit
Equipment: Standard Lightsaber - Purple Blade │ Phase III “Force Avenger” Energy Shield │ FAE/U-01 "Serenity" Anti-Signal Field System
Tag: Pacificus

An unconscious batting of lashes gave immediate manifestation to Ellissanthia’s surprise at the Ualaq’s response. If her impression of the Sith was correct, he did not wish to be addressed by his proper title. And in fact, seemed wont to eschew it entirely. In that, it took a short moment for the Undine to accept his statement as it touched her webbed ears, causing them to elevate along the side of her skull as if in question. Nevertheless, she quickly shook her head, nodding in understanding even as her mind sought to reject what her ears told her.

“My apologies, my lo—I mean, Pacificus! Pacificus Mettelos. It will not happen again!” Ellissanthia replied, nearly stumbling over her own words in the process. Fortunately, the addition of Mettelos seemed to set the Undine at ease, the tension slipping from her azure-hued features as she registered the twinge at the corner of her conversation partner’s eyes. An Ualaq approximation of a smile.

However, Pacificus’ next comment initially elicited more confusion, before understanding soon washed over her. Mortals? Did he mean those who were not of the Sith? In that case, Ellissanthia would have fallen under that category. Fortunately, it was his manner of speaking, both to her and in how he referred to said mortals that drew her thoughts in the correct direction.

“He’d be much happier in a simple life. Collared and working some starwright lines, cared for. Clothed, fed, protected.” Another pseudosmile, the thought bringing him genuine joy for the future.

“Yes...he would.” Ellissanthia gave a tentative smile as she briefly glanced in the direction of Reicher Vax , even though she wasn’t quite sure what exactly she was agreeing with! “Simple creatures in a hard, complex galaxy. A tragedy.” The Undine echoed, giving an exaggerated, sorrowful sigh.

“I am called Ellissanthia.” She introduced herself at Pacificus’ request. “Adept of the Eclipse Sect.” The Undine clarified, if only to make it clear that she was not a Sith.

“Is this a normal occassion for you, Pacificus Mettelos? These parties, if I might clarify.” Ellissanthia inquired. “I hear they run quite a few of them, especially around this season.” She added.

 

[Adean Castor]

TAG: Alina Tremiru

"And if he fails...do you think there will actually be consequences? Or the cycle just repeats anew?"

Once more under a microscope of scrutiny, Adean willed herself to keep her voice even. That familiar was one of the set pieces that built her up as an acolyte of substance. Being that the creature wasn't of her own creation, she was hesitant to be over reliant on it. If it was destroyed, it'd be all too clear deception was afoot.

"I don't want to be over reliant. Familiars can be killed and tampered with. In a setting such as this, the only thing I can trust is myself."

 

[Pacificus]

| MAULKILLER ROBES | UNARMED |

Ellissanthia | Darth Malum of House Marr

OPEN INTERACTIONS​

Pacificus' face laxed. The heavy flesh that lay beneath the onslaught of fur sloughed down. His expressed dropped if only for a second.

Then that bright starlight returned to his eyes.

"Bless your heart." He laughed, it was a dry sound. Fluid, molten rock.

She was close, oh-so close to being something greater.

Let us enjoy the night, he thought. And deal with immortality later.

He whispered the name to himself, once or twice, getting used to its taste — how it traveled and held in the air.

"No. This is my first time within Sith-Imperial space."

 

[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: Mingle with the mighty.
2.1: Ascertain how much truth was there to Srina Talon and Darth Empyrean 's affections for one another. (ACTIVE)
2.1: Investigate the red Twi'lek... (optional)

BLUFOR - Darth Malum of House Marr et. al.

OPFOR - Enemy Unknown

TARGETING ACTION(S) - Srina Talon || OPEN FREQUENCY

---

It weighed on Trayze, though he was a stone's throw away from the Dread Empress. The veil lifted merely enough for Trayze to feel a hair's breath of the weight upon the Dread Empress' shoulders - not merely of political responsibility, but of the years, the weight of the moments that shaped whatever she might have once been, to whatever she has become now. For lesser men, of whom Trayze was among them, it was enough to cause chill in his pulse, and ice along his spine.

"It's... Lieutenant Inspector now, Your Grace." he spoke, with a weightless, toothless pride in his voice. A pride of a spark that has been dulled under the cynical duties and politicking of police on Jutrand - perhaps, once Malum's reforms were complete, he could actually be proud of the authority he bore, rather than being tired and beset by the status quo.

Ice and weight and numbness, all these things continued to balance between the two beings in the throngs of the cavern - it was there that the Kiffar was found wanting. For one as experienced as Srina, though she may not register the over-aged Acolyte, he seemed... conflicted. Conflicted between the nature of the Sith and his own desires, and for one reason or another, this compelled him towards her. Naturally, there was a question, for being a cousin of the Lord of the Tsis'Kaar, and yet a lackey of the Kainite Sith-Imperial Banking Clan, what were his loyalties? Where did they lie? So the Kiffar answered as well as he could;

"I know," he emphasized, for the few commonalities between the mere match that was Trayze and the blazing sun that was Srina was a tiredness in mere blither - of "maybes" and flowery platitudes rather than bitter truths. "That Malum's vision will come to pass. Though, perhaps not wholly as he envisioned it." Or unblemished. He thought, knowing that conflict was the nature of the Sith, and even among those that professed the same ideology, there were different interpretations.

Then came the second question, the steel of the first pressing against his mind and merely dodged rather than rebuffed or repelled. What did he want? He knew the answer to that question, and he knew the fact that the question would, at best, ruin his reputation - at worst, it would cause the ire of the Emperor, thinking Trayze a lowly gumshoe to investigate his wife for some scandal or seed of doubt. The Kiffar wouldn't blame them for that, in fact, he admired it - yet still Trayze knew he was in a very difficult and delicate spot. "I have come to observe, but less as a carrion-bird and more as a... scholar?" The last part betrayed the uncertainty of implication, though the certainty of his question was present. He prayed that his boldness would not destroy him, as he asked. "...I wish to know about you and your husband-Lord husband."

Srina may find that beneath the hardboiled exterior lay almost a childish sense of embarrassment in the question, for it wasn't the idle small talk to appeal the Empress, nor the desire to destroy or to utilize the affections of one against the other. Despite Trayze's best efforts, the kernel of desire to understand how in the bloody hell could a genuine relationship exist in the Sith Empire - let alone at the very top of the pile of scheming, ambitious, and self-serving bastards.

Whether his bashfully hidden curiosity was childishly endearing, or would result in his immediate and eternal endangerment, would depend on how the Dread Empress answered him.

 

[Ellissanthia]

Location: Underground Ballroom - Dorvalla
Attire: White Outfit
Equipment: Standard Lightsaber - Purple Blade │ Phase III “Force Avenger” Energy Shield │ FAE/U-01 "Serenity" Anti-Signal Field System
Tag: Pacificus

The shifting of Pacificus’ furred odobenoid features did not escape Ellissanthia’s notice. Cocking her head slightly to the side, the Undine’s lashes fluttered unconsciously as her mind sought to make sense of the shift. She decided quickly that the expression was an Ualaq approximation of a frown, a revelation which brought with it more questions.

Then, as if out of nowhere, Pacificus laughed.

Ellissanthia’s expressively arched brows shot up her forehead. Surprise. From there, it was all the Undine could do to force a smile, albeit one that didn’t quite reach her eyes. She gave a slight chuckle then, but it lacked the melodious notes of her normal tone, instead manifesting as an uneasy, tentative outpouring of off-key notes.

Bless my heart? Ellissanthia silently contemplated the words, before shaking her head. Pacificus seemed happy, and from what the Undine could tell, she had not offended him. Still, the shift in his demeanor had elicited an uncomfortable sensation. The quartet of his deep, violet-hued eyes seemed to gaze down upon her in a fashion different from before.

Though in what manner, she could not begin to guess.

“Your first time?” Ellissanthia echoed. “Did you arrive here of your own volition? I have heard it said that the Dark Councillor goes quite a bit out of his way to bring others to his banner.” She commented. “Though if I might ask, I would be curious to hear where a Sith of such unique power came from.” Ellissanthia inquired, her tone equal parts curious and gratingly obsequious!

 

[Pacificus]

| MAULKILLER ROBES | UNARMED |

Ellissanthia | Darth Malum of House Marr

OPEN INTERACTIONS​

The Sith of the homeworld and colonies had such narrow experiences, he was realizing. Though, Ellissanthia was far from a proper Sith – far from a sentient being, she attempted to reach those heights. A few more steps and struggles – the undine would make a fine Sith. He could feel a distinctive taint among her in the empyrean of Ashla. One he had found in the ruins of Exegol and forgotten sepulchers of the Sith Lords.

The Corruption of the God-King.

The flesh was unknown to him, but his wake left wounds in the Force—scars that would never heal. Ashla's gilded blood poured into the void—a necrosis. It was a pain beyond his mortality, an empathetic ache for the galaxy. He had grown familiar with the assault, the slaughter that his presence left in the Living Force, though this was the closest he had embraced.

It sickened him.

It was the first time in the conversation he faced her fully. He towered over the azurine jen'jidai. His single hand could enrapture her visage – tear it off if he so wished. He was constantly aware of the space he dominated in the room, the size difference between him and so many others. It discomforted him as much as it did his fellows.

He didn’t wish to come off as a marauding giant.

“Malum the Great Reformer, that is the story between the stars. I wanted to see if the holovids had any truth for myself. They did, they did. I like the man,”

Despite her servile attitude to the Lord Sith, even as a lesser being, he knew every conversation was a duel. One of parries and thrusts, every word could collapse nations or raise empires. He was careful with what he chose.

Blunt, honest.

“There’s much beyond this Order, beyond this Empire, misbegotten.” The most polite word he could think of to refer to a jen'jidai.

“Gutter-Sith and gaol-preachers. Metellos has the forgotten and damned, preaching a thousand ideologies and theologies. That was Metellos. The Sith are more than the dictates of this… petty realm. So close to Tython, heterodox cabals thrive. You could call me a Sith of the Ashla-Pride.”

 

[Alina Tremiru]

"If he fails, he dies. If he dies, he fails. So long as he's alive, he'll never truly fail. The same can be said for all Sith. Survival is all that matters." Power could be claimed only by those who still lived. Consequences could be weathered, so long he survived. She let out a sigh after a moment, her gaze drifting from Lord Malum to the acolyte beside her. She blinked.

"They very much can. You've learned quite a bit, haven't you? Most students would be far more keen on using them as much and as often as possible."

Adean Castor

 

[Eira Dyn]

Location: Dorvalla
Attire: Dress
Equipment: Hidden daggers x2
Tag: Open for Interaction | Mentioned: Quinn Varanin and Kaila Irons

As Eira looked around the room, waiting for their host to arrive, there were plenty of faces that Eira did not recognise. There were also names being called out by some announcer that had Eira puzzled. How was she going to make a note of all the names and titles if she didn't have the appropriate materials to write them down! Eira grumbled, she knew she should have brought a recorder so she could have an audio file of all the titles and names being announced so she could study them at a later date and make sure she could memorise the faces to the names.

It was frustrating spiral of thinking she was letting herself go down till she heard the name of Quinn Varanin being called out. That was a name she recognised and knew that she could attempt to hold a conversation with the Echani princess since they were not just a similar age but also connected through Iuuna.

However, by the time that Eira had located where Quinn was in the crowd of the party, Eira felt her heart sink all the way to the ground. It seemed that Quinn was striking up a conversation with Kaila and right now, at a party, Eira couldn't face Kaila again. Part of her was tempted to demonstrate how well she was doing without the Sith Knight in her life now, but flashbacks to the emotions she had faced during the last event they had been at together were still fresh in her mind. Eira knew she would fail to hold composure and just end up embarrass herself.

She needed more time to redevelop her cold shoulder, Eira hadn't realised how much she allowed her barriers to be broken through by Kaila.

Never again.

No, she decided to just focus on waiting to hear on Malum's speech and figure out what to do from there. As she thought this, Malum entered the room and began his speech to those attending. Eira listened intently, absorbing all the words and deciphering their meaning. She had learned that plenty of Sith liked to hide the truth meaning of their words behind elegance and flowery words. Carnifex gave his own speech over Jutrand, it spoke of unity but she knew that others had interpreted it as his grab for more power within the Sith Order.

She was curious if this was a similar approach with Malum. Was he making a statement that was his grab for more power while parading it in a manner that would soothe others as a dream for unity and empowerment. It was understanding things and events like these that Eira was keen on learning since she knew that critical thinking would give her an edge on future enemies within the order, knowing those who intended on betraying her if they saw their opportunity.

Eira listened and observed the speech in its entirety, with her hands behind her back. A glint in her eyes as she enjoyed the process of understanding any implications this speech and direction Malum wished to take would end up having.

 

[Ellissanthia]

Location: Underground Ballroom - Dorvalla
Attire: White Outfit
Equipment: Standard Lightsaber - Purple Blade │ Phase III “Force Avenger” Energy Shield │ FAE/U-01 "Serenity" Anti-Signal Field System
Tag: Pacificus

As she had expected, Darth Malum—Malum the Great Reformer—continued to return more lost Sith into the fold of the Empire. For a leader of assassins to hold such powerful charisma was unexpected, though certainly not unappreciated as it related to building the strength and unity of the Sith. Thus, as Pacificus spoke of the Dark Councillor and his reputation, Ellissanthia gave a soft smile, before nodding her head in agreement.

However, as Pacificus continued, the smile slowly faded from her features, replaced by a wide-eyed, focused expression. Eyebrows rising in equal parts curiosity and anxiety, Ellissanthia felt pins arise on her skin as the Ualaq spoke of Sith who did not belong to the mainstream creeds.

Street Sith. Prison-Kissai. Ghetto Marauders.

Though Ellissanthia knew little of them, she did have a passing familiarity with the unsanctioned faiths. The Eclipse Sect often recruited from groups of shattered heretics, accepting those acolytes deemed irreparably corrupted by heretical teachings into the fold so that they might serve Sith more pure. She knew of many such individuals, those who were once part of heretical groups, who she now counted as peers.

“Gutter-Sith and gaol-preachers. Metellos has the forgotten and damned, preaching a thousand ideologies and theologies. That was Metellos. The Sith are more than the dictates of this… petty realm. So close to Tython, heterodox cabals thrive. You could call me a Sith of the Ashla-Pride.”

A cold irony it was then that Ellissanthia was compelled to treat this Sith, one who proudly proclaimed himself as adherent to the highest order of heretical creeds, as she would a Sith of the tolerated creeds. All to follow the directive of unity among the Sith of the Empire.

“The...” Ellissanthia shook her head, her expressively arched eyebrows rising up her forehead as she made sense of the revelation. “Ashla-Pride.” She echoed, her tone drawn out and reflective, by which point she had already decided on her next course of action.

“If you do not mind my asking, Pacificus Metellos, what are the Sith of the Ashla-Pride?” Ellissanthia inquired, her head cocked to the side in an almost exaggerated fashion as her lips opened slightly.

 

[Pacificus]

| MAULKILLER ROBES | UNARMED |

Ellissanthia | Darth Malum of House Marr

OPEN INTERACTIONS​

He could have stood there and pontificated at her further, he knew that she would sit there through every last word. Either out of curiosity, information broking, or disgust — a combination of the three, if he was unlucky enough.

She would pry further if she wanted, it was evident that she could feel the semblance of his gilded shade in the Force. The raging light against the reign of dark.

He needn’t much explain.

“Undefined, it was a word the ganger lords I ran with to name ourselves. A kindred so unlike the others, unadjectived Sith don’t last long in history. Even in the tales of chem-addicts, you’re worth being remembered… enough though. I’m tired of me. What of you? Your petty cult?”

 

[Srina Talon]

Location: Dorvalla
Tag: Trayze Tesar

______________________________________​

Srina regarded Lieutenant Inspector Tesar with an arched eyebrow, the faintest flicker of amusement dancing through golden eyes, though her expression remained otherwise impassive. She listened as he spoke, noting the hesitance beneath his words, the layers of conflict he tried, but failed to mask. When he concluded with a cautious query about her husband, her response was clinical, as it was sharp.

"Lieutenant Inspector…", she drawled, her tone devoid of warmth, but just as soft as ever. "Your promotion is noted, with, delayed congratulations."

Titles were a curious thing. They bestowed a veneer of authority, yet often, concealed more than they revealed. Ambition was of a similar ilk. What could the Lt. Inspector have wanted from her that he would risk her ire in such a public venue? She stepped slightly closer, her presence both commanding and disarming, while she dissected his intent and meaning. "You seem self-aware enough to recognize the dissonance between aspiration and reality. It is what perhaps makes you tolerable…"

It was a compliment—Despite, the coldness of it.

"Not everyone can accept what currently is, versus, what could be. Especially…If it comes from the lips of someone they may not trust. It does not come easy, ever, for our people."

Trust was…Nonexistent. The best most could hope for was trusting that when a Sith acted they were doing so in a way that would benefit their own interests. With that in mind, they could plan accordingly. Well. Plan, was a stretch. Scheming was far more accurate. They could scheme accordingly.

Some would follow the prospect of unity among their people simply because of the sheer number of enemies the Sith Order regularly maintained. If it wasn't the Alliance, Jedi, it was the Mandalorians and their pathetic attempts to avenge the conversion of their homeworld into a wasteland that had been stripped of value. Not as if it hadn't always been a hellscape in this generation, but the Kainite had taken it to a new level. Similarly, some would push back because the theme was correct…It just wasn't their plan. There was a lot of ground to cover with little goodwill to spend.

The question about Darth Empyrean made her head tilt, bemused because she couldn't find a line of dialogue that led toward discussing her marriage. It wasn't often that she was caught off guard but it also wasn't often that someone dared publicly question the nature of the relationship she held with their Emperor. She was confident in the strength of it, knowing, that she was connected to her beloved in ways that few would ever understand. They just weren't capable of it.

"What would you wish to know?"

Her expression remained silent, but, the unusual inquiry had her attention for the moment. It wouldn't be the first time that someone had propositioned her, but it was the first time to have happened regarding interest in both of them. "I would be remiss not to inform you that we are not entertaining applications for a third party to our intimate relations. I understand that my husband is a magnetic and handsome figure…But I do not share, nor, am I interested."

Srina had nothing against polyamory in the slightest, as long, as it didn't suddenly apply to her own marriage. She understood the need for others to take multiple partners but she had required more than one. Even in the state of unlife that Empyrean remained trapped in didn't change that. He was enough as he was, monstrous and corrupted, because beneath it all they were still bound. The physicality that most couplings required was pushed to the wayside because of his condition but it paved the way for emotional understanding. Acceptance.

There was one person in the galaxy who understood all of her, who would burn worlds for her, who would cherish her in perpetuity no matter her sin. What more, could she ask for?

"We are committed to one another…I do not soften him. I do not tame him. I am not his weakness. He is my equal and my challenge. My strength, is his strength. His might, is my might. Empyrean is my husband, Lieutenant Inspector Tesar, not, my Emperor."

Were either of them to kneel before the other?

It would have nothing to do with the Empire at all.

There had always been an understanding between herself and her partner, even, when they were rogue agents following independent goals. Maliphant had struggled for every inch of power he had ever attained, fighting tooth and claw, whereas it seemed to come more naturally for Srina. She never sought power for the sake of it, merely, enough to protect what belonged to her. When she needed more it was always there. Perhaps, it was always there. She simply didn't abuse it.

That had never been a point of contention. Who was stronger. Who was the better fighter. They both knew where they stood, both, knew one another's strengths and weaknesses. She would never come for his crown and he had no fear of it. The only thing she had ever coveted—Was him.

Not power.

 

[Ellissanthia]

Location: Underground Ballroom - Dorvalla
Attire: White Outfit
Equipment: Standard Lightsaber - Purple Blade │ Phase III “Force Avenger” Energy Shield │ FAE/U-01 "Serenity" Anti-Signal Field System
Tag: Pacificus

Pacificus had seen right through her, a realization which elicited a coy, playful frown and a small flutter of a giggle from her lips. Still, the glint in Ellissanthia’s violet-hued gaze lingered, hinting at a hunger for more knowledge on the Ashla Sith, even if only for the sake of satisfying her own curiosity.

“You describe Metellos in such a vibrant fashion that I might have to venture there one day, just to see it for myself! It sounds positively stimulating!” Ellissanthia replied. And indeed, the Undine’s words fell from her lips as truth. The prospect of seeing Sith, Jedi, and other cults of innumerable creeds, dogmas, and philosophies all gathered on a single planet, each competing for adherents and influence, was just as fascinating as it was disconcerting to her senses.

Nevertheless, when Pacificus inquired after her Sect, even with his slightly derogatory phrasing, Ellissanthia felt obligated to explain it to him.

“I am an Adept of the Eclipse Sect.” Ellissanthia began, her tone unvarnished, yet manifesting a slight undercurrent of pride. “We are a sect of Dark Jedi, descended from the Xendori Guard of the Tenth Sith Empire, who themselves were derived from the Dark Side Elite of the ancient Galactic Empire.” The Undine paused.

“Our proficiencies lie chiefly in the physical, objective study of the dark side.” She continued. “And our mission...is to serve the Sith and to ensure the primacy of the dark side in all things.” Ellisanthia finished, seemingly pointed words which could be interpreted in one fashion or another!

 

[Pacificus]

| MAULKILLER ROBES | UNARMED |

Ellissanthia | Darth Malum of House Marr

OPEN INTERACTIONS​

Poor, ignorant endling. She thought her little cohort of bogan-worshipping slaves mattered in the grand scheme of things. The God-King would discard them, as he had every other last tool in his disposal. She spoke of her Sect with such compassion, flickers that he interpreted as sparks of Ashla’s Grace — he could never be certain. The fell masqueraded as Gold often.

Pyrite.

He would spare the words of his home, about how it was a den of hate and evil. Nothing but drugged out saber-thugs with nothing more to their name than a kill count scared into flesh. Skin wrought raw from needles and stims.

Memory, truth, and story bled and died together.

But he cared not to correct her, she could be disappointed on her own terms.

“Don’t hide behind poetry and word-warring. It’s unbefitting a servant of the Sith — lest you care not for that title. If you are blind in subservience to the dark, and only the dark, you forget the greatest of our Code. All Sith, all Sith must hold compassion, love, desire, the Heart of Ashla. Or else the Code is broken, and our passion and freedom is naught but another cage. This, this is what marks you above a hound, misbegotten. You can understand your own ignorance, but not its place in the Force. Sentience, life, humanity is within your grasp… bogan or ashla, you’re intelligent enough to be more than a simple Dark Jedi.”