Faction This Is America | Sith Academy

[Aspect of Passion]

" Irina Jesart ."​

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Before she could make her way all the way towards the stage, her number was called;​

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"45th.", the Provost offered, giving her a simple glance. A silent command to return to her seat, just like the others. The things she had earned, the overshirt made of armored plates with a magnetic medal plaque, were delivered to her seat when she returned.​

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There was, sadly, no great fanfare for her placement.​

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---​

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" Soah Ty’Jyn ."​

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"34th.", he offered her before she could get to the podium. The subtle acknowledgement she was not owed more than she had earned. Despite all she had done, she had fought and accomplished. Her vestments were given when she would seat herself, wherever she choose to within the 4th Cohort's designated area along the tables.​

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---​

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" Matteo Guo-Yian ."​

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Once more the wheel turned, once more it would crush the youth in its path. Almost before he could step forward, his judgement would come. He faced it with a proud heart and a strong chin, but it hit in few syllables.​

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"71st. Return to your seat. Over there.", the Provost said with a motion towards the area the other 5th Cohort had begun to collect themselves, near the rear of the room.​

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---​

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" Viers Connory . 7th."​

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An uproar once more. The crowd of Lords descended into a heavy murmur almost instantly, and even over the cacophony of their claps, she could almost hear their judgements and feel their hunger. She would be guided towards the pedestal, flanked by Praetorians before her number could be called. Treated like royalty - which by all measure, she had just become.​

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The lowest of the First Cohort. She was on the cusp of falling - and thus her position was to be challenged by the entire Second Cohort. In spite of this, her new position made her something to be sought after. A Lord with ambition could forge her into her generations Carnifex, and that sentiment rippled through the tables and crowds. Even students looked at her with a sudden, newly found, fear and hatred.​

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She would be given all her vestments - from the armor, to the First Cohort coat, and the inclusion of the red Shuriji, for both her shoulder and her waist. The final gift, was the blade she was to wield - once more, built into her very nature. It was balanced for her strength, long enough for her to grow fully into, and a deeply rooted sensation of perfection. It became as much part of her arm as her very wrist when she wielded it.​

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"Your apartment will be made to your specifications. A temporary room has been made for you - let us know if you require anything specific for your accommodations. Please join Firrerreo at the First Cohort table."​

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---​

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" Eira Dyn ."​

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"99th. Return to your seat."​

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Short, to the point. Painful.​

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---​

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" Aerik Lechner . 106th."​

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"Vyra Lechner. 70th."​

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"Kole Lechner. 110th."​

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Three acceptances from the same family was often unheard of in the Academy - a triple threat in some betting circles. Even still, all three had been placed in various places of the 5th Cohort. Their journey would begin lower than they hoped, but still within reach to touch the peak.​

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---​

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" Zarava Dekki ."​

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"16th. Congratulations, Acolyte.", the Provost said with a grin as she came to collect her rank.​

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It was not the Second Cohort, but the Third was respected as the rank most acolytes cut their teeth within. Even more than that, she was the leader of it - the single person posed to immediately move to their next Cohort at the slightest push. She had potential to rise, and in a much easier capacity than so many others.​

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She would be given her overshirt, and then her uniforms Overcoat. It was plated as the other piece, so that she would never be harmed while wearing it, but upon putting it on she could suddenly tell that it adapted its insulating effects on her comfort levels. It had a built in climate control, tested against her needs. Despite all that it seemed to do - it was weightless.​

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It didn't hurt her mobility at all. A clear addition, with none of the costs.​

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"Your room is being prepared. You will have a list of your room mates delivered to you."​

 

[Meili Feng]

There came a point when you'd done everything that you could, played every card and fought every fight. Hindsight was always twenty twenty, looking back at the past you could always spot something that you might have done differently, something you wish you'd thought of at the time. It was one of those simple ways that the mind worked that was hard to defeat, in the moments of quiet reflection, in the space before an announcement your mind inevitably would crawl back to the past.

Mei's did anyway.

The food had been...adequate, but the girl found that she lacked much of an appetite, much of the ability to focus on anything but the line of students who crossed the stage to receive their ranking. The ranking that would determine how the next few years of their lives would play out. Had she done everything that she could to place herself high in the rankings, to satisfy the demands on honour and expectation. She thought so. Looking back, the girl couldn't think of a single thing she could do differently, a single thing that would have changed the outcome. She was...nervous but satisfied.

It was odd, she knew her parents would be proud but want more, her teachers would always drive her to do more, but their opinion wasn't the one that mattered, hers was. In the end, all that mattered was how she thought about the last few days, and between wiping hte smile of a snotty examiner's face, riding sithspawn through a maze and the duels and getting to know her fellow students...it had been fun.

"Meilei Feng"

It had all led upto this moment, hands brushing down her uniform before she stood and made her way to teh stage. No matter how it worked out, today was only the first step in a longer journey, and she would end it satisfied.

Aspect of Passion

 

[Soah Ty’Jyn]

Interacting with: Anyone who is in the 4th Cohort Table
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Thirty-fourth rank.

Soah's breath hitched briefly as she processed the number, her eyes narrowing with steely resolve. The Fourth Cohort. She straightened her shoulders, letting the weight of the decision settle. This was her rank, her position, and now she had to assess who else would be stuck in the same pit. Cramped quarters and limited resources -- it was a recipe for bloodshed, and she had no intention of being the one caught off guard. Every weakness would need to be noted. Every vulnerability exploited.

Her hazel eyes flicked toward the Fourth Cohort table, scanning the faces already gathered there. Time to see who would be joining her. Moving like a shadow, the Felacatian silently wove her way through the crowd, her steps predatory and deliberate. She could already feel the tension crackling in the air, the unspoken challenges simmering beneath the surface for those who landed in the First Cohort, especially with the call out of Connory in 7th. Good. Let them all fight amongst themselves for now.

It was interesting that Matteo Guo-Yian had attained 71st rank. Why was that? What had he been lacking? Or had someone else made the decision for him so he would prove himself more? What about Rosalia Aros ? What rank would she be?

Soah's gaze locked on the rest of the group, dissecting each one with ruthless efficiency as she approached. There was no room for hesitation. This was survival of the fittest, and she was ready to start clawing her way to the top -- literally, if it came to that.

Her mind raced as she took in their postures, expressions, and auras. The Huntress would narrow her gaze. Who was weak? Who was desperate? Who was just smart enough to be dangerous? She would figure it out soon enough. For now, she had to blend in, observe, and decide who would be useful -- or who would need to be eliminated.

With a sharp inhale, she slipped into an empty seat at the table, her dark braids brushing against her back as she leaned in, elbows resting on the scarred wood. Her blacktipped inky fingers flexed subtly, itching for action, for the next move in this lethal game. The black ink band over her eyes accentuated the predatory gleam in her gaze, daring anyone to challenge her.

Soah's lips curled into a faint smirk as she watched the others around her. She was ready. Let the games begin.

 

[Matteo Guo-Yian]

It felt like something was burning through his back.

Attention.

He dared not to look over his shoulder to see who was studying him. It would have given him a fright if he had realized it was Srina Talon herself. It was one thing to garner the attention of one of the many Sith Lords in attendance. Expectations would exist, but you wouldn't have to bleed yourself dry to attain them.

The Empress herself was a different story altogether.

Luckily for Matteo he didn't get a moment longer to worry about the source of attention. His name was called out and he caught himself holding his breath right as his number was called.

71.

Matteo blinked and stared at the Provost. But no, he was entirely serious and already pointing him in the direction of his new Cohort. It was a different cohort from the one Soah Ty’Jyn was put into, but that was not a surprise. That young girl had so much fury and verocity in her. She'd go far as a Sith with no doubt.

He strode off the podium and joined the Fifth.

There was still disbelief however. Matteo had been sure he'd be kicked out of the group or place dead last. 71 was not particularly excellent, but it was about in the middle of the pack.

To the right kind of person it was the perfect position.

If the Sith had gods to pray to Matteo would be sending a thanks to them right now.

Aspect of Passion

 

[Darth Carnifex]

The Dark Lord of the Kainate watched the sorting of the acolytes into their prospective cohorts with detached disinterest. The vast majority of the hopefuls were not considered important enough to garner His direct attention other than a passing glance, His eyes remained fixed on those who He had a personal hand in bringing to the fore.

Soldane and Lunaria were chief among them, their progress through the initial trials closely monitored by Him and those sworn to Him. They had the potential to place among the higher cohorts, to be heralded as prodigious Sith; leaders in their own right. But the Dark Lord had forbade it. All of their life thus far had been carefully cultivated, their childhood sequestered in isolation, their every needs met without difficulty, and their minds honed by the greatest of intellects.

But that came to an end now.

The Dark Lord wanted them to struggle, to grow, to accentuate their true selves; not become pampered playboys who knew nothing of strife. They needed to be intentionally hamstrung if they were to become the future rulers of the Empire, and Carnifex had ensured that. Their positions amongst the middle cohorts was by design, it gave them room to triumph but also ample room to fail. The same was afforded to the three Lechner children, who had also been instructed by His hand.

All of them would struggle thusly, and would either prove themselves worthy or die ignobly.

A proctor of the academy stood next to the Dark Lord, her face glued to the tablet held in her hands. Idly, she manipulated objects on the data-screen with a stylus as the names and numbers were called one after the other. She said nothing to the Dark Lord, and He nothing to her.

In silence they watched, they listened.

 

[Rosalia Aros]

Tag: Aspect of Passion
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The herd of hopeful acolytes had been thinned -- substantially.

Now, all that remained were the best. Rosalia's dark eyes flitted about, studying her fellow students and future rivals. Though many of the other students had rejoiced about the feast, she was one that sat quietly instead of joining in. The food was... unacceptable (at least, to an energy vampire). There were others with empty plates, but they had the rather sickly pallor of nerves and exhaustion and dread.

She'd watched as Soah Ty’Jyn and Matteo Guo-Yian had received their ranks, 34th and 71st, respectively.

Rosalia canted her head to the side. Interesting. Now, she only wondered what her own fate would be as she was reduced down to a mere number.

"Rosalia Aros."

It was time to find out.

 

[Irina Jesart]

Irina had barely made it a few steps before the Provost called her ranknwith barely a glance. She was used to such treatment at this point in her life, with her house having fallen as far as it had, but it did not take awaybthe sting. She turned on her heel in time to see a projectile coming for her face.

She brought her arm up only to have the dumpling splatter against it. Her eyes follw3d the trajectory it had come from and found herself staring at Kal-El . She couldn't exactly retaliate, not while she stood in the open. Seething quietly she stalked back to her seat settling back next to Rivan ( Soldane Talon ) with a sigh, reaching for a napkin to clean the worst off of her sleeve.

"Let the climb begin." She said softly, settling the delivered items into her lap. "But before I do, are you eating that potato?" She asked Karok "If not, may I have it? I need to deliver it to someone."

Her eyes flicked back to the table Kal-El was sitting on.

 

[Marcus Dinn]

"Marcus Dinn."

Marcus was late. But at least he remembered to show up for the ranking ceremony, loping up to the front of the chamber as his name was called.

Aspect of Passion

 

[Karok]

"But before I do, are you eating that potato?" She asked Karok "If not, may I have it? I need to deliver it to someone."

Her eyes flicked back to the table Kal-El was sitting on.

He blinked once and paused.

Then a smirk was etched across his face and with a wave of his hand, the potato was lifted and directed to roll over to Irina Jesart .

"Doth mah lotka."

 

[Eira Dyn]

Location: Jutrand Academy
Outfit: Academy Robes
Equipment: Training Sword
Tag: Open

While she was waiting to hear her results, Kal-El attempted to throw some food in her direction. A meter or so before it got near her the item froze in mid-air. Stuck as if it had been captured in a photograph. Eira had not lifted a hand or even shown she was aware of what Kal-El had done but her senses had protected her from his childish attempts at ruining her appearance. This day was too important for her to be tarnished and humiliated by him. She was prepared to join several of those who had been selected to join the First Cohort.

Then her rank was announced. Her heart sank and the world crashed around her. The doughnut fell to the ground and Eira couldn't believe what she had heard.

99th. She was deep in the lowest of the low. How? She had given it her all and succeed at every turn she could. Hadn't she?

99.

The fury at her failures raged inside her, she wanted to crush them all. To find whoever was number one and turn them into a smear on the ground. How could she be 29 places above the bottom?! She had failed her Master. How could she face Iuuna Talon now? How could she continue her training being so low ranked? No, there had to be some mistake, something that the academy had missed in her trials. Unless it was the antics of Kal-El during their duel that caused her to fail...

Her eyes stared over to him and the crimson glare she gave him, if he had done anything to ensure she would be ranked this low then he would be wanting to make sure he either ranked super high or failed. Otherwise she would make him suffer for this injustice. For now, there was nothing she could do and she would just have to accept the rank. Eira would just have to work harder than ever before and ensure there was no questioning her skills.

She was going to reach that first cohort and she was going to make sure they knew to fear her.

 

[Aspect of Passion]

" Rosalia Aros ."​

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She hadn't made it to the platform before her rank was called - just as the others in the lower Cohorts.​

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"54th."​

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It wasn't last, and there was pride in that. She would be delivered the Armor she was deserved, and her uniform would represent the glory she had incurred. She was not allowed the pomp and ceremony of a Third, but she had at least earned more than a scornful stare. Her barracks would be well furnished for what she needed - but they would be commonly held with the others. She would not have privacy for some time to come.​

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After a moment, she was sent to sit with the other Fourth Cohort. The most hopeful to rise from the bottom.​

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---​

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" Marcus Dinn ."​

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Some in the crowd had likely expected a greater number for the Grandson of the Emperor, but the call of "81st" had hurt those dreams. Marcus would be given a nod, then a forceful push towards the Fifth Cohort table to join those other few who had made it into the Academy, but not far enough to matter. The Half Victors, some would say.​

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Those some would soon be proven wrong.​

 

[Zarava Dekki]

ZARAVA

Location: Jutrand Academy
Tags: OPEN

There were so many people watching. It was one of the many instances where she would give everything to disappear from this place. Zarava was certain the only way to do that at this point, was to die. Zarava had no desire to die just yet, as she still wanted to complete her goal of getting back at her mother for putting her in this situation in the first place. The young redhead had a long road ahead of her, and she had proven against the odds that she could do just that. Whether or not she would try and climb up in the ranks depended on the one that she was given.

"16th. Congratulations, Acolyte."

Zarava sucked in a breath, not realizing that she had stopped breathing while she waited for the announcement. 16th. The top of the third cohort. The redhead felt relief spread across her body, and it showed as her body language became more relaxed. She had done it. She wasn't a failure, and this just showed that she had potential. She didn't score as high as Jarek Voss, but that wasn't surprising. The Echani was obviously skilled and had a lot more experience than she did. Considering her circumstances from when she arrived, she believed this was the best outcome she could hope for.

A genuine smile spread across her facial features and she watched as she approached with the uniform that they were given out to those in the academy. Zarava had noticed that some were getting more pieces of their uniform compared to others as if to show that the higher the cohort, the more equipment they were able to acquire. She raised her arms to make it easier to put on the overcoat, and it seemed to be a perfect fit. Not only that, but it seemingly weighed nothing. Zarava was curious to know what kind of material was needed to create such a garment. However, she would hold her tongue as now was hardly the time to ask such things.

Even more interesting, the temperature of the outfit seemed to be perfect as well. It was obvious that the uniform had a purpose, and it also seemed to be fairly durable. As far as she could tell. Regardless of its features to keep her safe, she would be doing her best not to warrant the need for it while she was in the academy for now. Once fitted, Zarava would dip her head slightly before making her way toward her cohort table. Was her sponsor proud of her? She could only hope, as she knew that her sponsor would be important in surviving on Jutrand for the time that she spent here. For now, she would enjoy the moment and think of what to do next.

 

[Jarek Voss]

TAGS: Quinn Varanin​

---

While in conversation with his fellow acolytes, Jarek scanned the room filled with the elite of the Order. He was still in need of a sponsor, let alone a master. The young acolyte's eyes landed upon Quinn Varanin , who he knew of well. Jarek adjusted his outfit, straighten his posture and calmly walked towards Quinn. Upon reaching her, he made a fist with his right hand and brought it across his chest, bowing slightly.

"Lady Varanin, I hope I am not interrupting... Or should I say your majesty?"

They may have been far from their homeworld of Eshan, but Jarek knew of it's royalty. Despite his father's station, he was treated as a commoner. He was sure he would not be recognized.