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Tag: Arcturus Dinn | Percival Io | Darth Metus | Darth Empyrean | Darth Carnifex | Laertia Io
Open Tag: Free, for anyone else that might want to interact. Even with the sudden fight going on.
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Hearing voices, in some circles, was oft a sign of a troubled mind.
When the Force became involved, the truth was always a coin toss. Was the party in question insane? Or were otherworldly forces whispering to them in the dark? As silver eyes drew across the members of House Io with a certain sense of imperium—Srina decided, very quickly, that it was very likely both. The seemingly delicate Echani was shrewd. The poison-stained promises of obedience and empty apologies from Laertia Io were just that. Empty, poison.
The admission of such from the Parliament was a waste of breath.
The former Exarch held an interest in the Sith Order that was anchored by her husband. His desire to see the Sith succeed prompted her to exist in this sphere. That meant accepting all manner of things that very nearly drove her to cleave heads from shoulders, however, that never meant she was required to back down. Srina reacted with pragmatism.
Not mercy.
Her body turned away from the cyborg-abomination while Darth Empyrean sought to remind the wayward pet of her place. Even as words continued to flow…Her own point had already been well made. Twice. She had no desire to waste breath bandying words with an unhinged spot of unpleasantness that they all knew had a penchant for producing a flashy show to cover for lack of prowess. Leaders, tested and true, did not lead their people blindly and pointlessly to slaughter.
"Play stupid games…", she spoke to the air, though, none would likely hear her in the commotion. They were too distracted by the need to peacock further. The rest of the phrase would be just as equally lost but it was more than apt. "...Win stupid prizes."
In truth—She could see the value of a simple duel to solve the issue. It would have been her preferred method if given the choice…But that was the Echani in her speaking. Not, the wife of someone that had been tasked to help a nation prevail rather than destroy it from within. Percival Io was no doubt a worthwhile opponent against most foes. She didn't blink, however, because of what he was.
Because of what he wasn't.
So many power-playing children… The fire from the pit rose and Srina willed it to return back from whence it came. It obeyed—As all things would. They were on a ship in space and none of their guests had arrived with the intention of becoming a well-cooked entrée. There was no purple inferno. There was no command save her own when frost swept across the floor and turned flame to ice.
It felt like putting a cover over a light socket so a youngling wouldn't put their finger in it.
A gun going off would have caught the intention of anyone. Even those that had not been made aware of the debacle by an android being flung into a wall—Would pause. It was a universal sound for something that was going amiss and instinctively a leathery wing burst from her back. It was wreathed in shadow, flame, and a toughened hide that absorbed the overpowered shot from Maple Harte . The creature that it belonged to writhed in pain in her mind while it ate a hole through the softer bits. The protective wing withdrew, instantly. Rage. The Nocna Mora was angry, though, it remained under her control. The Sithspawn was just one more thing that she had absorbed as of late to safe keep her little stars. Just one more weapon, to her eternal arsenal.
Srina acknowledged that anger. Let is flow, though, controlling the funnel lest her wrath rise in totality. The normally unassailable Echani rose her hand and drew on the darkness that she had spent the majority of her life cultivating. She hadn't simply merged with a "city of witches" to steal their power, to borrow from their greatness, like some washed-out galactic parasite. She made her own way. Through trial and personal sacrifice.
Carving out one's own heart to lay on an altar would always grant more of a boon than sacrificing a random piece of filth. Anyone could kill. A housewife with piano wire, could kill.
That did not make them Sith.
That did not make them worthy.
The Dread Queen drew a deep breath and released a targeted sonic scream at the Neutralizer's that were dead set on cutting through as many Sith as possible. Iasha Rha already had some of them wrapped in some sort of barrier. Srina, sought to do away with them completely. The banshee wail would be grating for the rest of the yacht to hear, not debilitating, but Srina was willing to bet that these units wouldn't fare so well. This wasn't her first rodeo with constructs made by Laertia Io or with any of the members of her House, thusly, it was a very, very educated bet.
Srina had been involved with the CIS, a veritable droid nation, with which these units were formerly affiliated. They had been utilized in several different wars that she'd been part of. Their design was NOT a mystery. She didn't need little whispers from the Dark to tell her secrets about her opponent that she shouldn't have known.
That was what experience was for.
But—Since House Io had a penchant for portals? For teleporting around like radioactive rabbits? Her hands moved and the pale woman opened several small circular breaches between this world and the nether beneath the robots. They held razor-sharp edges and devoured anything they touched. If the breach closed while part of the enemy was inside—That limb would be removed.
Finally, she opened a baleful, nigh-bladed rift, beneath Maple Harte . Certain, that she would dodge. Srina knew this one just about as well as she knew the Neutralizer Models. She was fast. Very, fast. With that in mind, Srina created another. And another. Placing them with disturbing accuracy as to where she estimated the woman might go. Echani eyes were keen and missed nothing.
They were all going to owe Darth Xyrah a new yacht.