Faction This Is America | Sith Academy

[Firrerreo]

There they were. The stares, the anger. Firrerreo gave even Karok quite the smug expression. He knew what this position meant. There were too many stronger ones kept low. People were likely being put where their growth would be the strongest. Sith needed hate and anger to get stronger. With no royal name, no family, no one to miss him. Not even a proper sponsor yet to protect him. The Sith that had brought him here was no name, no threat.

He was the ideal scapegoat.

The familiar fluttered on his shoulder. The white mask split, leaving a void of actual nothingness to be revealed as it caught the thrown piece of food. Firrerreo paid it no mind, even as his masked owl friend resettled on his shoulder to continue to observe his surroundings. He was going to be a target to fuel the growth for the others. And in turn, he was going to use that to grow himself.

There were so many parts all around him he could use for his creations, after all.

Kal-El

 

[Jarek Voss]

TAGS: Everyone around.​

---

"9th!"

Jarek stood motionless, taking in the moment. He was surprised being in the top three at the beginning, but now he was was second of the top of the second cohort.

"The 8th spot will be mine soon enough, then on to the first cohort.."

The acolyte's train of thought was interrupted by the towering Praetorian kneeling before him, handing him his new sword. upon gripping the handle, it felt as if Jarek could communicate with the sword. It was a feeling unlike any other. It was incredibly light, and easy to wield. He attached is newly acquired uniform and turned to face everyone else. He felt the eyes, the hate, the anger, the jealousy. The acolyte reveled in it. Jarek looked towards Firrerreo , and gave him a small nod, and slight smile to his new position. The acolyte noticed Irina Jesart , Soldane Talon , and Karok , and walked over.

"I see you made it out of the Labyrinthine alive." Jarek said to Irina Jesart , a hint of snark in his tone.

 

[Aspect of Passion]

" Alaqai Temuha . "​

​

The Provost announced, awaiting her approach towards the front. When she arrived, he would glance towards the crowd, enjoying the slight anticipation that always came with the ones who actually made it to the stand. It showed she ranked higher than the fourth at minimum - and made the sponsors lean forward to await it. Another 1st Cohort crowning would drive their ambitions wild.​

​

"15th.", he mused, glancing back down to her.​

​

A great rank, but the lowest of the greatest. She was Second Cohort, but her position was to be challenged by those beneath her in the third. She was on the cusp of losing her place, but with so much higher to go. With a motion, the Provost brought forward the rest of her new apparel. The gear that would signify her for her rank - and then finally, her sword. A great thing that fit her hands perfectly, called to her, seemed to bond to her instantly.​

​

There was never anything so balanced as it was for her then.​

​

"Congratulation, Acolyte. Your apartment will be ready for you, when you wish to retire."​

​

---​

​

Other names rang out, but without the fan fare. Adean Castor , 49th. Karok , 98th. A dozen more left to fight for their place in the darkness of the Fifth and Fourth Cohorts. Their rooms were being prepared, and even now, the Fifth would slowly realize what was to be theirs. Far in the distant halls, as those who were disheartened by their rank retired to bed faster than the rest, they would understand what they were left with.​

​

A dimly lit hall, lined with bunk beds and thin sheets bordering on burlap. They were given two small footlockers for each bed, a single one for each student. Just enough room to hold their uniform and a single back up. They would spend their nights laundering their days clothes, while the rest of their footlocker was barely big enough to hold their extracurricular hobbies. No room for more than a single book, it held just enough room for contraband - were it to be well hidden.​

​

And nothing else.​

​

They would slumber in a room with their fellow rankers with dim lights on at all hours. There would be no silence as nearly a hundred people moved about in the mornings, at night, all hours. This would be the beginning of their torture as Sith - and provide them the anger and ambition to rise up, or suffer in perpetuity at the bottom.​

 

[Soldane Talon]

Soldane had almost stood up for his rank, but it was called out sooner than he had hoped. Some part of him was fine with being 65th, it kept him under the radar - but somewhere deeper in him, the pedantic need to excel had driven him to hope that in spite of his efforts, he would have been placed in the 1st Cohort. That somehow, he was just that worthy in spite of himself.​

​

But the call that Lunaria Talon had been placed 66th set his thoughts into motion. They had performed wildly different in the trials, with different philosophies in their approach. There was almost no way they could have gotten where they were, not on blind chance. It made him realize, his rank was rigged. It never mattered what he did.​

​

And the only person he could imagine would do that, was his Haru. A small annoyance crept over him, an embarresment left only for himself to have been played, even if it had been by the Twice-Emperor. Soldane thought himself smarter than that. Clever enough to see these things before they happened. This was a clear mistake on his part.​

​

He was ripped from his train of thought as Irina Jesart spoke to him. He almost didn't hear her at first, until she put a hand out towards him and introduced herself. He almost blurted out his real name.​

​

"Rivan.", he said flatly, gently shaking hers, but not before a subtle glance to make sure she didn't have some small pin in her grasp.​

​

"I... did, but I guess I'm in the 5th. I'm not really sure where I wanted to be.", he said in a contemplative quiet. Until the Gen'dai spoke.​

​

It forced him to look back at the harsh Huttese. He had understood it, he had been trained enough in communications by his Mother and Haru to know well enough how speak, at least roughly, in many languages. There was a moment where he wasn't sure if admitting that would put him in worst odds or not, but now that he had his rank... he imagined it didn't matter as much.​

​

"Bu nahka... hatkocanh gee... pateessa. Wahke pateessa. La nah doth, uh, wolei bai doh.", Soldane offered in response, in his own rough Huttese. He hadn't practiced it nearly enough lately. He'd sound like a fool, but it would have to suffice.​

​

"What about yourself?", he said glancing towards Irina Jesart . "Planning on joining the 1st right away? Looks like that Firrerreo belongs there, judging by that grin on his face. Already full of himself.", Soldane said with a glance towards the large, yet still empty, table where they sat.​

 

[Irina Jesart]

Irina's gaze shifted to the gen'dai as he spoke, his basic was broken and simple, but the message was clear enough. The huttese unfortunately flew straight over head head.

She opened her mouth to respond, to apologise that she could not speak huttese when Rivan's own reply made her eyebrows shoot skywards. She wasn't sure why it surprised her, she had no idea where Rivan had come from or his history, perhaps it was just huttese was not a language she expected to come out of an echani's mouth.

"I'm sorry," she said after a beat, recovering herself. "I don't speak huttese, it was a language my tutors did noy feel necessary, mistakenly so, clearly. But I understand your point, I think."

It was then that Jarek appeared behind her his tone less than friendly, she half turned to regard him, dark eyes flicking up and down his form before she turned her back on him. "With no thanks to you, Jarek." She replied evenly. "You ought to be careful, there's to be a hundred and nineteen students out for your spot. Life for you is about to become incredibly difficult."

She turned her eyes back to Rivan, and his question. "Honestly? I'll be happy to make it through the doors. As our friend said..." she paused looking tonthe gen'dai "...I'm sorry I didn't catch your name. But the higher the cohort the weaker. I'd rather not have a hundred targets painted on my back."

"Irina Jesart."

Irina froze momentarily as her name was called, collecting herself after a beat and rising from the table.

"Wish me luck." She muttered sweeping towards the podium.

Soldane Talon Jarek Voss Karok Aspect of Passion

 

[Karok]

"I... did, but I guess I'm in the 5th. I'm not really sure where I wanted to be.", he said in a contemplative quiet. Until the Gen'dai spoke. It forced him to look back at the harsh Huttese. He had understood it, he had been trained enough in communications by his Mother and Haru to know well enough how speak, at least roughly, in many languages. There was a moment where he wasn't sure if admitting that would put him in worst odds or not, but now that he had his rank... he imagined it didn't matter as much. "Bu nahka... hatkocanh gee... pateessa. Wahke pateessa. La nah doth, uh, wolei bai doh."

Hearing a his native tongue, Karok raised a brow and turned his head back to this other acolyte. A boy with white hair and fair pale skin. Echani was the species or so he heard in passing. His Huttese was a good as the Gen'dais broken basic. Something that instantly stood out to Karok and he noted but would not mention right now.

Rivan. How many echani would know Huttese? Then again...spacers also know Huttese. I dont think it means anything. He probably watches pod racing on the Holo-net. Karok thought to himself and nodded to confirm he was listening. " Ahh. Bihmhepa cay mee placement, Rivan? In ting juju uba, da dayan wa wahke pateessa, koumi uba kaza donkd poodoo." he smirked again when Irina Jesart attempted to communicate. But the Gen'dai only squinted and nodded in agreement with a chuckle. Feigning a unintelligent understanding of her words, But as she got further he would shout out. " KAROK."

"Tah lumpa kacaheu mi dee luobeokay bahana chamy cay bu Yih. Uahloba bai adtahia, koumi bai bai cohkamhan du. Jee ye wanya nudd bai neu uba an mee baua du bu baubokaga" He blinked and though he was looking at the new arrival of Jarek Voss . All of his words were for the echani Soldane Talon . His expression stoic, eyes malevolent and yet his tone suggested something else akin to compromise.

" Blade, sho-uld give...me. Heheh." He commented and nodded at Jarek only to admire the weapon.



[Huttese Translation: "Surprised with your placement, Rivan? Maybe its you, that needs a strong friend, less you become bantha crap." " This place reminds me of the gladiator arenas owned by the Hutts. Fun to watch, less to to participate in. I look forward to see you and many others in the barracks."]

 

[Soah Ty’Jyn]

Aspect of Passion
​

Name after name was called, and Soah watched each one with narrowed eyes, her sharp gaze tracking the movements of those who dared to step forward. Some Acolytes strutted up, only to be dismissed before they could even reach the center of the room. Others managed to claim a fleeting moment of glory, their faces glowing with triumph -- until they realized that every glittering eye in the room was mentally plotting their downfall. Most were ranked as average or below, tossed into the lowest tiers where they'd likely be torn apart in the bloodbath to come.

Soah's nostrils flared, and she clenched her fists at her sides. The memory of the ravine still burned fresh in her mind -- the moment she'd shifted into her predatory feline form, fighting tooth and claw to climb up that ravine, working with Matteo and Rosalia to get through the Sithspawn that came after them. She'd completed the rest of the maze in that form, tearing into anyone foolish enough to cross her path. Blood had dripped from her razor-sharp claws and the spikes along her back, but she'd made it to the end, dragging her battered body across the finish line.

Feral and defiant, Soah hated relying on anyone. But she'd swallowed that irritation then, focusing on the only goal that mattered: survival. Now, as she stood in this chamber, waiting for her fate to be decided, she knew the ranking she received would determine just how many eyes she'd have to watch and how many throats she might have to rip out. But fear? No, that had no place here. She'd clawed her way this far and would keep fighting until there was nothing left. And even then, she'd find a way to survive, because that's what she did.

Then her name was called.

There was no hesitation. She wove her way through the crowd, her every step calculated and fierce. Her thick, dark braids swayed with each movement, the black ink band tattooed across her eyes accentuating the cold, predatory gleam in her hazel irises. She made it to the front, her gaze locked forward, daring anyone to challenge her.

"Soah Ty'Jyn." The voice echoed across the room as she stepped up to the podium, ready to face whatever judgment came next.

 

[Matteo Guo-Yian]

Matteo Guo-Yian did not have much hope about his ranking. He had survived the maze, but had not survived unscratched. Wounded while guarding the backs of Soah Ty’Jyn and Rosalia Aros . Then wounded again while Rosalia kept the pull of the bridge so Soah could make it across safely while he kept the Sithspawn off of her back. If this had been a Jedi convention he would have most likely been made chief messiah of the Jedi Order (or whatever roles they had).

But this wasn't the Jedi Order.

Twice in a row Matteo had a prime opportunity to stab those near him in the back to get ahead.

Instead he stayed his hand. Prudence had guided Matt in those moments. It made no sense to add another threat to him when they were already being assailed and making friends in those early moments, would make the following weeks, months and years in the Academy easier perhaps.

But it could be seen as cowardice regardless. Unfit to be a Sith Acolyte much less a Lord of the Sith.

The boy made his peace with that. He thought he had acted as best as could be, if it meant being send away now? So be it. When his name came he stepped forward with his head held high and eyes filled with stubborn determination. There was no shame in his posture. He had killed in the maze and bled for those that had put their trust in him.

Only fifteen years old Matteo still felt more a man now than he had before joining the Academy.

And a man did not avert his eyes when being judged.

Aspect of Passion

 

[Brooklyn Zambrano]

Equipment | In Bio

Location | Jutrand

Tag | Kal-El

Her eyes watch as Kal.. Did he just? Yes, by the gods above yes he just did...

Her immature side shows a little, letting out a faint snort while watching the boy's goblin-like antics. Said snort was instantly followed by her covering her mouth in embarrassment.

As he came wandering back with more food, Brooke lets out an exhausted sigh, knowing full well some unwanted individuals may walk on over after this boy.. And also hopeful not a soul saw her moment of embarrassment.

"Ahem- Kal-El.. Alright. I'm Brooklyn, you can call me Brooke if you want."

The girl stabs into a dumpling, able to pop the whole thing in her mouth easily.

"W- Mm- You know you are probably going to get in trouble, ya?"

She says with a mouthful of food, swallowing it after.



​

 

[Jarek Voss]

It was then that Jarek appeared behind her his tone less than friendly, she half turned to regard him, dark eyes flicking up and down his form before she turned her back on him. "With no thanks to you, Jarek." She replied evenly. "You ought to be careful, there's to be a hundred and nineteen students out for your spot. Life for you is about to become incredibly difficult."

Jarek let a large smile grow across his face, and gave a slight chuckle. "I look forward to working with you in the future." The acolyte thought to himself as Irina made her way to the podium.

He next turned his attention to Soldane Talon , "Rivan, a pleasure to see you. Too bad we were not teamed up through the labyrinthine. In the future perhaps.". Jarek next turned to the Karok , listening as he was speaking Huttese, "The language of slugs and criminals? I will never speak." , the acolyte thought to himself. He gave Karok a half smile. "I have never sparred with a Gen'dai before, perhaps we can one day."

 

[Darth Nefaron]

He certainly has the arrogance of a true Sith

Nefaron offered his own grin, or at least what amounted to one considering the nature of his face. The concept of royalty was entirely foreign to a true Sith, for power must be claimed through one’s own deeds rather than the antiquated notion that family names meant anything. Adopting the title of a Darth was a commitment to a new life, casting aside family names was necessary to Nefaron and he feared the Sith had forgotten this ancient practice, or at least they have forgotten the purpose of the practice.

But the Sith who sat just across the table had power, that was not in doubt. Even in his state, Nefaron had little doubt that he could kill all those who gathered around him, desperate to not feel his wrath. Luckily for them, the wine their master consumed seemed to be his focus for the time being. Nefaron brushed off any attempt to offer him refreshment, he doubted the sight of him attempting to consume wine would be all that pleasant and he rarely partook, not for lack of enjoyment but simply because it was inconvenient.

“I have no doubt in your ability to find useful pawns, but these fools seem more akin to parasites.”

There might have been some truth to that, but it mattered little. Perhaps Lord Lutris enjoyed the endless praise, or perhaps it was their desperation?

“But I am more keen on knowing your choice, I must admit I remain skeptical of this Academy’s ability to produce exceptional Sith. Unless the intention is to simply throw them at the Jedi and hope they manage to kill one?”

Nefaron chuckled himself, clearly amused by the thought of the gathered acolytes flailing against Jedi Knights in battle. One could only hope they managed to at least inconvenience the Jedi so that they provide some value to the Sith Order. Lord Lutris is likey going to pluck his own candidate from the Academy to use for his own purposes. In that they were alike, though the likely had very different ideas on how to train an apprentice. What Nefaron did not expect was that a third Dark Lord had come to the table, though it seemed scrutiny came with this Sith Lord.

“Do you think this Academy will truly prepare these Acolytes for what is to come? Better to throw them to the wolves, if they perish then so be it. We seek the extraordinary, not a common thug who has a passing control over the force.”

Nefaron made his views rather clear, perhaps revealing his own plans for his newly acquired apprentice. It might take a decade, but he would mold young Veradun Sharr into the beast that Nefaron knew was buried within him, a true scourge on the galaxy that would serve the Corpse Lords plans well.

“Tell us, what exactly do you think is being accomplished here? I see little more than false hope.”

Tags: Drazen Lutris Lina Ovmar​

 

[Quinn Varanin]

//: OPEN //:

Jutrand Academy was a far cry from Bastion. It was a good thing, though; despite Bastion's best efforts, the school and education had their lackings. If things were as they were here, some of those that didn't belong wouldn't have made the cut. Quinn pondered silently, going through the roster of her former classmates. So many of them have died or have never been heard from again; others were living a different kind of life far away from the influence of the Empire. Things were so different back then.

"Wine, your majesty?" An Echani bowed his head slightly as a tray of glasses was presented to her. Quinn softly smiled and accepted one of the glasses, "Thank you." Another bow of the man's head, and he wandered off to give the other lords and ladies a drink. The red liquid swirled, and she watched it create the legs cascading down the glass's edges. Bringing the glass to her lips, she inhaled its aroma, a full-bodied blend with a floral and robust bouquet. Quite the choice, she wondered if it paired well with the food offered. She wasn't hungry, more nervous to see if she could convince one of the promising acolytes to accept her as a teacher.

She sipped the wine softly, using the glass to hide her gaze as she looked to the other Lords. They all had power, something that she had wanted. Quinn was a child birthed from the old Titans of the Empire. Her name had weight only to those who had seen the power of her parents. The glass fell from her lips, and she sucked her lips in gently, taking the wine from them.

Quinn wanted to speak with Drazen Lutris . She had only met him in person once but had heard enough about him from her Godmother. His attention, though, was unfortunately taken by another Sith. Quinn's plans to dig into her Godfather's brother would be deterred for another time. A name echoed over the communication. One she recognized only remembering from a prior event.

Jarek Voss .

He was a young Echani who had caught her attention. She watched, listening to his placement. A smile crossed her face as she stepped towards the two men speaking. A part of her didn't know how to address Drazen. Would he be an uncle? Quinn decided not to think too hard about it. She was close enough to hear the conversation of the pair. His ( Darth Nefaron ) words were harsh, but she could see he was one of the simpler Siths. Ones that assumed that brute strength was the way to conquer the galaxy. Quinn scoffed as she took another sip of the wine.

Instead of interjecting like she had wanted to, she decided to continue to watch. Someone with more sophisticated intelligence may wander around waiting to strike up a conversation. However, she would rather have a chance to speak to the Acolyte, that had caught her attention

 

[Viers Connory]

//: OPEN //:
Aspect of Passion

The spread was nothing like Viers had ever seen before in her life. When she was with the Jedi she only remembered having to eat rations in the middle of war. There was never anything like this for her to eat, even at the celebration parties. Viers wondered if it was a way to keep them fighting, or if she was just unlucky when it came to the battles she participated in. Either way, she didn’t want to think about those times when there was something more important for her to focus on.

The Sith knew how to treat their people. Tables lined with all types of dishes, meats, vegetables, dumplings, and sweets. She looked around and saw some of the other students carefully pick up different dishes. They were careful and almost elegant with their choices. Viers didn’t understand why they weren’t as starved as she was. They had spent so long working on getting to this point. Viers stood in line, her mouth salivating to the point she needed to wipe them on the dark robes she wore.

Finally, it was her time, it was her chance to pick clean trays of food. Unlike the other acolytes, Viers grabbed everything she could. Food piled upon her plate and she soon realized that after the nearly ten pounds of steaks, she would need another plate. Using the force, she soon began to hover several plates around her almost like magnets the food floated to their respective plates. When Viers made it to the end of the banquet, she walked over to where she had found an open seat. Seven plates followed her and found their place on the table and in almost an instant - the consumption commenced.

Viers quickly made work through the meats and sauces that were placed in front of her. Her brow furrowed in frustration as only having two hands to bring the food to her mouth. There was no grace as the girl devoured everything in front of her. It didnt’ take long for her to polish off the seven plates she had brought with her to the table. She watched as others and noticed that one of the acolytes just pushed her food around. Tilting her head, she brought the end of her black robes and wiped her mouth.

It would be polite to ask Irina Jesart for her food because Viers was too lazy to get up to get more food. But she decided to try and steal the food while she was engaged with talking to the Echani boy. Slowly, one of the untouched pieces of food began to move along the edge of the plate. Viers grinned happily as she focused on the steak rolling over the edge, only getting closer to her.

Soon the food would be hers, but it was in that instant a voice boomed,

“Viers Connory.”

She stopped and looked towards where the others had moved towards to get theri ranking. It didn’t dawn on the Corellian that she would have to do the same. Viers stopped trying to steal the steak and wiped her hands on her clothing. Once again, her clothing became a napkin and Viers raised an eyebrow. What would this ranking mean? Could it contribute to her freedom? Standing, the girl saw a biscuit she had forgotten and shoved it in her mouth. Crumbs clung to her cheek as she waited for the rating.

 

[Eira Dyn]

Location: Jutrand Academy
Outfit: Academy Robes
Equipment: Training Sword
Tag: Aspect of Passion

Finding out the results of her success in the trials was something that Eira was deeply nervous about. She had put her all into every part of her training, she had been determined to demonstrate to Iuuna Talon that she was an acolyte worthy to take on. Getting this far was an achievement in of itself, but going that extra mile and getting a high cohort rank would mean the world to her. Just trying to get that was going to be tough. Her sparring trial against Kal-El had not gone well in her mind. It was a good new rivalry that she had but he did not seem to be one who cared about being high rank or being someone who was trying to achieve greatness.

All she had was the mindset to focus on the now, the trials were done and there was nothing she could do to ensure that she would achieve a higher rank. There was nothing she could demonstrate to change minds of their teachers. Eira could only hope that she wasn't low in ranking, while she had the fight and drive to get higher, to reach the top, she would rather it be a short climb over a long one. Especially since the rules were clearly very strict about how she could rise in rank. She couldn't just challenge a cohort several places ahead and rise up that way, she needed to do it one by one.

Breathing in deeply, she could smell the strong scents of food that were being offered, though the queasy rumble in her stomach signalled that she was not going to be eating anything till after her results. She heard several others getting their places, many were being ranked high, most of the ones she saw doing well in the trials were being ranked very highly. It made the anxiety in her body rise as she was not sure how well she had performed. Eira had not gotten called out as someone who achieved well in any task, she had not been rewarded with praise, which meant to her she was mediocre or worse when performing in the trials. Something that concerned her about the ranking.

Seeing Viers Connory go to receive her results, Eira assumed she would be another who would be ranked high.

"Eira Dyn." A voice called out and Eira looked up with wide, bright red eyes.

Walking slowly to the stage, she controlled her breathing and whispered that she had done her best and she was proud of the skills she had been able to show off.

 

[Kal-El]

JUTRAND - IMPERIAL ACADEMY OF JUTRAND - FEAST
Brooklyn Zambrano | Irina Jesart | | Firrerreo | Viers Connory | Eira Dyn | Aspect of Passion | @Anyone Else IDC

Kal-El's eyes glanced at Brooke for a moment. Did she just . . . snort? A small chuckle escaped him. The humor of the situation and the talk of trouble only added to his amusement. With a crooked eyebrow, Kal's eyes twinkled mischievously.

"Trouble? Me? Whatever would give you that idea?" Kal-El smirked before prepping the cutlery for more dumpling assaults.

Setting up four different pieces of silverware to carry the dumpling payload, Kal-El aimed carefully while adjusting the angle and direction of each weapon. Sticking a finger up into the air to account for wind direction and pressure, Kal-El nodded--satisfied with his work.

First, Kal-El fired the first of his artillery bombardment. Another dumpling soared through the air towards the Firrerreo 's pet familiar. Kal was going to make sure to fatten up that eldritch bird something fierce. Pausing for a few moments, Kal-El fired another dumpling. This took a little more planning and analysis, but the end result was to fire the dumpling straight into Viers Connory 's mouth when she next tried to take a bite of her biscuit.

Instead, assuming nothing intervened or changed, the young Connory would find herself biting down on a dumpling.

Two down, two to go. But he would not be so generous with his last few targets.

Firing another dumpling, Kal aimed straight for Irina Jesart 's head as she began walking up towards the main podium. Last but definitely not least, Kal-El began to dump the last dumpling in a little bit of sauce before loading the ammo and firing one final time.

His final, soaked dumpling was aimed for none other than Eira Dyn 's perfect head of hair. While there may have been intervention of this assault by outside factors, Kal-El was betting that they would stop the dumpling.

And not the sauce soaking it completely, allowing Eira to be pelted with dozens of droplets. Maybe it'll hit her in the eye. Now that would really sour up her day, and it would be awesome for him.

Laughing to himself a little at the antics, Kal-El turned his attention towards Brooke once more.

"Sooooo, Brooke, right? Like those small rivers?" Kal-El sat with his hands behind his head, leaning back without a care in the world.

"Reminds me of those summers where I'd hop into a fresh river to cool off. If I was lucky, there was a rope to swing from for extra airtime. Felt like I could fly."

What else was he supposed to do or talk about? It was business as usual until his name was called or he found himself in real trouble. And, if his suspicions were correct, he was among the bottom of the pile . . . if not the bottom of the pile.

"You ever done something like that?"

 

[Srina Talon]

Tag: Quinn Varanin
Location: Jutrand Academy
______________________________________________________

She had yet to place her weight behind any of these children.

Some might that that as a sign that the Empress was incapable of making swift decisions. Those who knew her thought process and logical aptitude would understand that it was merely her way of ensuring that she measured twice—cut once. Srina did not believe in making wasteful movements that served no purpose. She would not endorse a mediocre student, nor, would she tap one that held no future. The ranking was effectively meaningless. She waited, watched, and judged them on their reactions toward hearing what their peers were awarded.

Soldane Talon and Lunaria Talon weren't spared more than a cursory glance.

It was painful. It angered her.

To see them separated.

To see their faces while the truth dawned on them about their placement. No matter how well they performed, this, was always where they would have landed. Much of the obstacles to be placed in their path forward had been allotted to Darth Carnifex but that didn't mean she was unaware. They were her blood Her falling stars—Her most precious things. It bloodily carved out part of her soul to pretend that they didn't exist. But when placed in perspective…The choice was simple.

Srina could dote on her children and place their lives at risk or she could ignore them to give the chance they so richly deserved. What mother wouldn't do what was best for their young?

Even if it meant breaking their hearts.

The pale witch moved through the crowd as easily as water flowed around a boulder. The dim lighting made it easier to keep her presence from disrupting the proceedings. Still. The platinum braided hair that the Dread Queen unabashedly wore, combined with sleek black attire, wouldn't let her hide for long. Unless she wore a hood and stayed in the shadows…And even then? It was a coin toss. She would stop walking beside Quinn Varanin and let the fingers of free hands catch for a moment.

"My Own."

It was a frosty greeting that her beloved god-child would be well accustomed to. Were it not for all the eyes that watched their every movement she would have pulled the young woman into her. Srina didn't respond to the waiter that offered her wine and a death glare sent him scurrying for the hills. There was something that didn't seem quite human about her. The hawkish tilt of her head. The otherworldly beauty that was almost cruel to behold, in truth, both disarming and alarming.

She remained silent whilst Quinn finished evaluating the other Sith Lords that had come to peruse their top students as if they were choosing a prize horse. Instinctively, she knew what her Goddaughter was doing. It was what all Echani were trained to do. Evaluate. Assess. It was so autonomic that Srina found herself subconsciously analyzing the threat potential of anyone in the room. Not just their current ability…But their propensity, for harm. "Are you well?"

It was a simple question, but again, it was something Quinn would be used to. Srina didn't tend to speak at great length in public unless she absolutely had to.

She preferred to listen and let others make an ass of themselves without her interference.

Golden orbs settled on a young man ( Matteo Guo-Yian ) that she had noted previously. Her gaze would bore holes through his back whilst he waited for his ranking, though, he might have difficulty tracing the source. It would have made sense for the Empress to support the highest-ranking youth…

But she tended to see things differently.

Present and future, was also, the Echani way.

"Have you chosen?"

 

[Aerik Lechner]

WEARING: xxx
TAG: Aspect of Passion | Open

The Lechner triplets found each other once they had made their way through the maze. They were separated again for duels which had seen them all do well. Aerik was not sure if he had been considered victorious or not, but it seemed that it had been enough to prove that he belonged among those welcomed into the academy.

Other students walked ahead of him, including the one he dueled. She had been a good opponent, but it likely did not matter. He had seen enough, and knew his sponsor well enough to know that whatever placement he would get was likely going to be rigged. Then again, Aerik had not exactly done his best. Their secret had to be protected at all costs. Until they changed, they did not know what they were, and the triplets could not risk putting a target on their back.

Their change alone could kill them. Why did they need others trying to kill them as well?

The aroma of the food which had been set before them made Aerik’s stomach grumble. It smelled delicious. The triplets were used to eating fine things as they never lacked anything. What was in front of them now was fancier than anything they had ever seen before. He could not wait to eat, but first he needed to announce his arrival.

“Aerik Lechner.”

His eyes averted from the twins he had seen earlier. Soldane Talon and Lunaria Talon likely had already formed an unfavorable opinion of him. Regardless, he was still embarrassed that he had lost his temper in front of them. It was a weakness to display the emotion as he had, and it was because he was soon to change. That alone was making him weak. He had no control over it. Aerik did not get to change simply when he wanted to. That would only come once he learned.

The full moon would control his first change. If not the next, then certainly the one following.

He walked up to the dias and waited for his assignment. Once he had that, he could eat. His siblings gave their names as well.

“Vyra Lechner.”

“Kole Lechner.”

 

[Quinn Varanin]

//: Srina Talon //:

Hearing the greeting, despite its chill, a smile pulled at the corners of the younger Echani's lips.

The gentle touch was unique to one person that Quinn knew. Her Godmother had a way to make her presence known with little attention drawn. Quinn took another sip of the wine as her fingers responded to the brief moment of contact. The Empress stood beside the Echani woman, watching and analyzing the acolytes below and the other Sith Lords. Drazen's presence made her curious, and Quinn wondered if Srina's arrival was to provide almost a barrier to protect the children. Thinking about it only made Quinn's skin crawl. This sort of behind-the-scenes issue made Quinn weary of being in the Empire.

Still, it was better she was on the side of the Empire's leaders and had Srina's favor. Which meant she was more than loyal to the Empress. She felt protected from snakes like Drazen, especially with her Godmother here. Quinn's eyes peeled towards her cousins; as much as she wanted to sponsor them, she couldn't. If she did, it would only draw suspicions, and Quinn couldn't remain impartial to them. The Echani woman wore her heart on her sleeve, and her closeness would only endanger them. She would stay close but as an instructor. It was the least she could do to be there in case their lives were threatened.

The thought made her fingers apply pressure to the glass. Fortunately, Srina spoke again, which calmed the woman. "I may have," she said quietly, her gaze never breaking from Jarek Voss. Quinn pointed with the tip of her nose towards the Echani boy. "Him." Pausing, her eyes glanced towards the twins again and then back towards Jarek. It was a silent gesture to let her Godmother know that they would be safe, and if she could choose them, she would have.

"Have you?" she asked quietly, curious to see if her Godmother would sponsor one of the students. The girl didn't take long to catch what her Godmother had been focused on. She smiled, understanding.

Quinn finally let her gaze fall upon the woman. With so many around them, their usual warmth with each other would only complicate things. The two women had to remain cold, retain the rumors of the ice queen. Before Srina could answer, Quinn decided to let slip the news she had been holding on to for some time. It felt as if every time the Princess wanted to tell the woman, life got in the way. She turned her full attention to the woman. "I'm engaged. Unfortunate to your plans my dear Godmother, not to the Marr boy" She grinned and took another sip of her wine, nearly finishing the glass.

"He is attractive but lacks any experience to handle me."

 

[Zarava Dekki]

ZARAVA

Location: Jutrand Academy
Tags: Aspect of Passion

Zarava was exhausted. But, that hardly mattered. She was alive. She had made it. There were points in the trials where she had doubted herself whether or not she would make it through to see to the end of it all. The young redhead managed her way through the labyrinth. She had survived her duel with Jarek Voss. That was all that she could hope for at this point. Zarava had even managed to acquire herself a sponsor, someone who she didn't know all that much about. She imagined it would change in due time the more she spent in the Sith Order. Hopefully not too much time. She had no intent on staying, but she also had no intention of looking weak to her peers either.

She still had wounds that were healing, but most of the wounds were hidden underneath her clothing. She hadn't come out of the duel completely unscathed, but she would take having most of her body bruised and sore rather than being thrown away like some of the rest of the corpses. Though, she wasn't sure what would happen to herself if she did die in a place like this. Most of those who were powerful, or at least they seemed powerful just with the way that they held themselves, looked like corpses. Were they brought back to life somehow? Or did they always look like that? It was hard to say as it seemed like the Force was more than capable of defying death itself.

Even with the giant feast that was spread out in front of them, Zarava barely ate anything substantial. The anxiety that had settled in the pit of her stomach had quelled her appetite. So, she ate the more bland and simple things that she could find, breads mostly. She held a dinner roll in her hand and would occasionally nibble the pastry. Her blue eyes would occasionally dart around the room, landing on a couple of familiar figures. She must have zoned out as the gold-skinned boy ( Firrerreo ) had already been called, the same went with Jarek Voss . She noticed a couple of others whose names were just starting to be called, her attention landing on Kal-El , who had yet to have his name called. The boy seemed to be entertaining himself by throwing food at others. She was glad that she wasn't in the line of fire.

"Zarava Dekki"

The redhead couldn't help but flinch at her name being called. She put on the roll that she had been eating, making sure not to show how sore she was as she stood up. The young girl made sure to keep her head held high and her hands clasped behind her back as she approached. Her blood pounded in her ears. She knew that she wasn't going to be at the top of her class, and she was fine with that. What she didn't want was to be the worst of the worst. If she did badly, what would her sponsor think? Zarava wasn't sure. Zarava kept her jaw clenched as she was addressed.

 

[Drazen Lutris]

"It is natural to be parasitic.", he mused.​

​

"They leech off me for money, power, position, protection. I leech off the Order for money, associates, and my ambitions. The Order leeches off its worlds, its populations, the Galaxy itself in the name of its goals. Are we not all parasites to someone?", he said as he watched the ranking ceremony with a casual interest.​

​

"This Academy does more to prepare a student for the realities of the Galaxy than any single Sith could do. It prepares them for the Order, how to navigate a world of Sith who seek to subjugate them. Add on that it is filled with only the most influential and powerful of their young generation, and they are given more of a challenge than any antiquated Banite Sith could hope for.", he said with a casual shift of his wine glass, now nearing empty.​

​

"It is the best chance they have to survive the world my brother has built for them. The other academies build bodies to throw at the Jedi, but this Academy... This one is using all of its resources to build a select few into true Gold. Something we can look forward to seeing in a few years.", he beamed.​

​

"I intend to bolster one of those students. They will have a name for themselves, an education masterfully built upon by a hundred Sith Lords, and the guidance of me. All combined, I think I'll come out on top.", he mused as he looked to Nefaron.​

​

"Hope has nothing to do with it. The Strong rise, the Weak fall. Only a dozen students down there will mean anything - but that's the point. Who cares what happens to the rest?"​

​

His attention shifted, however, to Lina Ovmar as she asked her question.​

​

"I intend to pluck.", he quipped.​

​

"If the day comes they need a lesson in ruthless politics, I suppose I may offer some lessons, but it is the 'pluck' I am focusing on."​

​

Darth Nefaron​