Dominion A New Age | SO Dominion of Alpinn and Qi-Ko

[Darth Malum of House Marr]

As one of the signatories to the Najarka Accords, Malum had watched with keen interest as it seemed their newest Imperator sought to tear it up in a fit of fancy... alas, that was not fair, he had read over the brief just as well as any of them, it was a well thought out manouvere that only had its fatal flaw in one matter most important.

That it exposed a difference of opinion between two who really should not have such public differences of opinion.

Though considering Malum had dueled a once Emperor of the Sith, perhaps he should not be one to judge.

He smirked a sly smirk beneath the mask, as he watched the resounding cacophany that was about to break across the command room, he had to give credit to the once Slavemaster General, their purpose had been elucidated for quite sometime, even to the surprise of many down below, and across the empire, and to perhaps even greater shocks, they had kept to them. The Third Legion remained above Ryoone, menacingly facing off against the Commonwealth's fleet, that was quickly arriving from all quarters.

If the once Sephi had wanted to safely make a splash, he struggled to think of a better way to do so. Well, apart from taking the newly constructed armada, and launching it unsupported against the Alliance's frontline... he had said safely, though. There was a matter of most import when it came to stand offs of this nature, however, if you wished to portray your vaunted strength with them...

...You could not, in any manner, back down.

That might have been the ingeniuity of the Sephi's strategem, however. The recency of one's appointment was often when they were most cautious, but, if one could turn away from their fears for a moment, they would realise too, the recency of one's appointment, was just as often when the appointer would have to be just as cautious. There was prestige in becoming Imperator... as there would be shame in demoting one, showing the Empire weakness, even in that weakness being appointing a lunatic to one of the highest military offices.

Suffice it to say, even for one that did not care for the consequences of opinion, as their Emperor so often was.

There would be no recrimination from that quarter.

And that would be if the Emperor even cared for the Commonwealth that had by his own measure only survived Sith liberation by the virtue of connection to one of the Dark Councillors.

The very same, that now appeared before them.

As too, the familiar face of Lady Ivarro, he could not help but narrow his eyes behind the mask.

The one who kept voting down his bills in the Assembly...

...He supposed he could hardly take much issue with that, half the Empire voted against him. Still, he could not deny there was part of him that wished to deliver an appropriate level of force, from the hand of another, for that slight.

A planet would do more than well enough, no?

Alas, that part of him had to long stay quiet now, for duty compelled him to a course that would have made the younger him choleric in humours. It made him particularly melancholic at the memory that a younger him, would have only been a scant half a decade ago...

He allowed a wistful sigh through his nostril, as the veil broke, emerging out from nothingness, the Heir of Darth Marr, Lord of the Tsis'Kaar and Dark Councillor of the Sith Empire strode, armoured in ever, the blackened plate and mail that was his very form and function, the black knight of the Sith that could just as easily plant a dagger in your back, the daggers were hidden, but held within the sheath at his side, the beskar glinted menancingly outwards.

"Lovely, Imperator, alas, it would seem your maps are outdated, outside of the control of Jutrand this world may be, but outside of the control of Dosuun it is not," He turned a masked gaze towards Lady Yvarro, "And Dosuun has firmly bowed their heads in submission and fealty to our Emperor on Jutrand, as cemented in treaty and blood," He turned his head back to the newly made Imperator, "The misunderstanding has been wrought, yet, no mistake has been made, continue the Shattermarch onward," Now he turned his gaze to the fellow Dark Councillor in the room, a silent offer, in her cause, "I am sure that our friends and allies in Dosuun shall be more than accomodating when it comes to matter of reinforcement and supply, and this... misunderstanding forgotten."

He brought his focus back to the rest of the room, gazing upon them all with a challenge.

"Does anyone disagree?"

Lirka Ka War Marshal Helix Taeli Raaf Ivalyn Yvarro Delsin Shaw Darth Virelia
Mentioned: Darth Empyrean

 

[Rae Cooke]

//: Darth Virelia //:
//: Attire //:

Things were getting interesting fast. Rae had been once again chosen to follow Serina into a room full of people who could probably tear her head off with a thought. It was uncomfortable, to say the least. After the mission on Kamino - she was unsure if Serina would want to do the same. Today, she was without a helmet, using the HUD in the esper eye she had in her left socket. It was more accurate than anything a helmet or a visor could display.

As she stood near Serina, she watched the woman. It wasn't hard to see that she was unhappy with where she was or how things were handled. Unfortunately or fortunately, Serina wasn't in charge. Voices carried authority and spoke of things she wasn't fully aware of. Still, everything was locked away - recorded and classified using her cybernetic. She would filter it and review the data later - without her Benefactor knowing.

More faces filtered in, Ivalyn Yvarro, Taeli Raaf, and Malum of House Marr. The last one of this interesting trio was the one that surprised her the most. She fully expected Ivalyn because of the Commonwealth and Taeli, who had connections. Rae tilted her head away as more and more people who knew who she was continued to show up. It was unfortunate that she didn't wear a helmet today.

Rae did her best to not meet Taeli's gaze - this should be easy enough with the woman obviously preoccupied with the situation unfolding. It seemed the third legion had overstepped their boundaries.

Curious and with the agreement explained, Rae looked at Serina and raised an eyebrow. She could tell the woman was still upset, but there was really no way to comfort or calm her frustrations. Remaining close, Rae adjusted her stance and kept quiet.

Looking back around, Rae exhaled softly as she remembered a particular meeting in which the young woman at her side was taught a few harsh lessons. She had gotten her revenge on one of the women, but the other was in this room, trying to defend her world. This would explain the current behavior she felt from her benefactor.

Another gentle sigh as she cleared her throat. If Serina glanced towards the trooper, which she heavily doubted the woman would, Rae would give her a stern nod, showing her allegiance to the girl.

Spoiler: tags

Lirka Ka Darth Malum of House Marr Taeli Raaf Ivalyn Yvarro War Marshal Helix Delsin Shaw

 

[Darth Virelia]

"Vengeance."

Tags - OBJECTIVE ONE: Lirka Ka War Marshal Helix Ivalyn Yvarro Rae Cooke Darth Malum of House Marr Delsin Shaw



She did not speak when Darth Arcanix bored.

She did not speak when Lirka failed.

She did not speak when Ivalyn entered—graceful, proud, still so very unaware of how little grace meant when a woman like Serina Calis turned her gaze to you.

She did not speak when Delsin brought practicality.

She did not speak when Darth Malum finished his challenge with the weight of a Dark Councilor's voice—

"Does anyone disagree?"

But when Rae gave her a nod of support, which Serina returned with a nod of her own...

—She stepped forward.

No sound. No declaration. The movement was enough.

The great helm of the Arch-Commandant turned, her segmented cape splitting at the base like molten wings as she took one precise step into the center of the council circle. Six violet eyes glowed faintly, their light glinting off every reflective surface. She was not just a woman in armor. She was a sovereign blade encased in perfection, her voice unsheathed like a weapon of exacting legal devastation.

And when it came, her voice was not a shout. Not a scream. It was cold. Slow. Terrifying in its precision.

"No," Serina began, "there has been no violation."

The silence that followed stretched like drawn wire.

"Only ignorance," she continued, her voice a velvet scalpel. "A misunderstanding, yes. But not of action. Of reality."

Oh, she was going to enjoy this.

She lifted one clawed finger and gestured slightly. The holomaps hovering above the central table flickered—then reoriented with a single command from her embedded systems. The maps shifted. Recharted. A sphere of Sith space emerged in pale violet, surrounding the known positions of the Dosuunian Commonwealth's declared territories.

Then—red lines flared outward from the center. The marks of the Planeshift.

"You see," Serina said, "the treaties ratified by the Assembly—and recognized by this Commonwealth—clearly define their sovereign domain across eleven specified systems."

With a thought, ten systems blinked in white: Dosuun, Mephout, Seoul, Needan, Crystal Nest, Baralou, Alpinn, Tholon, Sky Absit, Najarka, and Varada V.

All were neatly clustered.

"All of which," she said coolly, "as of last quarter-cycle, have remained precisely where they were when the Najarka Accords were signed. But…"

Another slow gesture.

A second cluster of worlds blinked into view—Ryoone among them—outside the original bounds.

"Ryoone," Serina murmured, "was not one of them."

A new line blinked to life: the drift. The path of celestial movement. The red arc swept dramatically from Ryoone's former position—outside the reach of the Sith Empire—to its current place within the boundaries of what was now clearly, indisputably, Sith-controlled space.

"The Planeshift," she said, "is not a political event. It is a cosmological reordering. And as of now, Ryoone is now within our domain, as per the new star charts authenticated and distributed by the Sith Empire. The treaty specifies territory. Not intent."

She turned her head slightly toward Ivalyn, but did not step closer.

"I do not violate the Accords by operating on Ryoone, Grand Vizier. Because Ryoone is not part of your nation. It was not annexed. It was not claimed. It moved. And in so doing, has placed itself inside the field of influence where this Empire has sole jurisdiction, according to law, to the Emperor's own decree."

She paused. Let them absorb it.

"You have no legal right to be on Ryoone under the auspices of the Accords."

Serina's voice lowered, honeyed now. Dangerous. Now was the time for a more, personal blow.

"You are not here to correct a violation. You are here because you feel you are owed an apology for an accident of astronavigation. You are wrong."

Another shift on the map. Points of proselytizing technology glowed along Ryoone's volcanic plains. Transmission towers, vox pylons.

"Furthermore," she said, "The Accords clearly permit the proselytizing efforts of the Eternalist Church within all recognized boundaries of the Commonwealth. Ryoone, I reiterate, is no longer one of them. So not only are these efforts legal—they are mandatory, by decree of the Emperor and under the explicit cultural-mission mandate of this Legion."

Now, Serina's gaze swung toward Lirka. There was no warmth in it.

"I do not answer to the mistakes of an Imperator who failed to cross-check her data with the updated charts. I answer to my orders. And they were clear."

She faced the table once more, arms now folded behind her back, spine perfectly straight, each syllable sharpened to a cutting point. She was going to make a statement.

"From this moment forward, any interference with the Third Legion's operations on Ryoone will be interpreted as obstruction of the Emperor's sovereign directive. Not simply a violation of military chain of command. But a hostile act against a lawful operation of imperial governance, enforced by the Accords, decreed by the Emperor."

She had now strategically escalated the situation. Either the Commonwealth would have to comply, or they would be forced to war. If Lirka was to try and contain Serina, Lirka would lose some favour with her own legion, for a botched start to the campaign because of a Legion's own Imperator backing down would not be a great showing, an excellent start if Serina wished to take the legion from under him. If Darth Malum tried to simmer things down and defy, or if Darth Arcanix came to rescue her precious Commonwealth, they would do so in defiance of the Emperor's own decree...

"If the Commonwealth wishes to submit a formal territorial dispute to the Assembly and renegotiate the Accords, they may do so."

Her helm tilted. Mockery, almost—if Serina were ever so undignified as to laugh.

"But until the Accords are renegotiated, this planet is ours. You are guests."

Then came the final blow. Serina turned slightly toward Darth Arcanix—this, at last, was for her and Darth Malum.

"And you, my Lady, would do well to recall that I am the Arch-Commandant of this Legion, appointed by the Emperor himself."

A beat.

"But if you question the mandate of the Emperor and the rightful law that we operate under..."

Another pause. The six eyes of her helm shimmered faintly, one after the other. A slow cascade. Not blinking. Hunting.

"It will be him you have to answer to, not me."

"We shall do as decreed."

She stepped back into the shadows, a wraith of imperial law, menace wrapped in poetry.

And said nothing more.

 

[Delsin Shaw]

OBJECTIVE I: Council of Commanders
TAGS: Ivalyn Yvarro | Darth Virelia | Lirka Ka | Taeli Raaf | War Marshal Helix | Darth Malum of House Marr | Rae Cooke |

This addition of new individuals coming forth and speaking was interesting. Whatever I had spoken was completely ignored. There was no hatred about it, as the Council members who came forth spoke of miscommunication. However, it was Serina that came forward with an ultimatum. I could only reply in one way.

"Boy, that escalated quickly. I mean, that really got out of hand fast."

 

[Kroeger]

RYOONE, CONTESTED TERRITORY
CONTRACT | THE IMPERIAL COMMONWEALTH
902 ABY

D E M O N
IRON LEGION
'THOSE ONCE LOYAL'
Ivalyn Yvarro

MOGOTT
​

The transmission cut and Kroeger was still for a moment, drawing once more from his cigarette before he leaned forward over the table, grasping at its edge with his hands, one organic and one cybernetic. He nodded in the direction of Thire. "Pull the ships from hyperspace." The Captain didn't care to hesitate and instead spoke the order across the bridge to the navigation detail with a commanding tone and within three seconds, The Long Night of Solace and its accompanying vessels shrieked into real space, an auburn gas giant of negligible interest and its accompanying system far off to the right periphery of the Star Destroyer's bridge viewport.

"Didn't like what you heard?" The Captain asked to which Kroeger nodded, drawing once more from the cigarette.

"Not going in without certain reassurances. Didn't get them. If she wants to call again once her fleet is in-system, we'll continue the jump. Otherwise...standby." He said to his naval counter-part who nodded in obeyance, not caring to argue the reasoning as he hardly deviated from the Commander's viewpoint.

Just as Kroeger was protective of his men, the Iron Legion proper- so too was Thire protective of his ships. Their strategic, conservative nature often worked to their benefit and kept the Legion intact to this point where a more maverick approach might've seen them all slain.

"What of the meeting with the Vizier?" Thire inquired with a lofted brow. Kroeger flicked the cigarette into the waste bin before nodding.

"I've given the time-of-day to worse. Keep the task force on alert. Let me know if anything comes up." Kroeger said before he began to make his way from the bridge, Captain Thire nodded and the blast doors hissed open with Kroeger's exit.

 

[Quinn Varanin]

//: OBJ 3 //:
//: CT-312 //:
//: Darth Strosius (Mentioned) //: Lúthien Tinúviel //:
//: Environmental Suit //:

Quinn wasn't supposed to be out of the meeting room. She had planned on joining her Master, Taeli Raaf, to deal with the debacle on Ryoone. Quinn was more excited about the Commonwealth world coming into the Empire's influence. She had always wanted to explore more of the Commonwealth: beautiful women, delicious food, and idealistic cities. All of it was just perfect and a brighter side of the galaxy in the sphere of the Empire.

When she had a moment, she had excused herself from the meeting and dressed back into the environmental suit. The cities were in domes, but Quinn had caught wind that the Empire had employed the DeathDrop mercenaries. That meant the little trooper named 312 was potentially running around without the Princess.

She couldn't allow that.

Quinn wandered around the standstill. Sith Imperial troops and the Commonwealth were staring at each other. It didn't make sense; from her understanding, this was supposed to be peaceful. However, knowing Lirka Ka and the Third Legion, something must have been missed.
It wasn't her problem; she wasn't here to play diplomat—today was her day off, in her opinion.

She looked at the holographic map on her wrist as she tried to navigate the planet's new terrain. Frustration wrinkled her brow as she used her free hand to pinch and zoom the map—nothing made sense. Where was 312 when she needed her?

Before Quinn could stomp her foot in frustration, something or someone grabbed her shoulder and spun her around. The glint of the viroblade reflected into her eyes as she squinted and looked at the face of her attacker. 312 recognized her before Quinn recognized 312; the voice that cursed through the modulator made the Princess' face light up as she realized.

"Oh! 312!" Quinn stepped back as the trooper pulled away and dropped quickly into apologizing and kneeling.

"What are you doing?" the Princess asked as she stepped forward, the holomap shutting off after idling. She remembered how the trooper quickly assumed the blame for situations out of her control.

This may be another time where she's blaming herself again.

Quinn didn't take offense to the attack. While any other Sith would have taken joy in reprimanding the scout, Quinn knew this was her fault. She was somewhere she wasn't supposed to be, and the troopers weren't alerted to her presence. If anything, her death would have been of her own cause.

Shaking her head, Quinn wrinkled her nose. "I was irresponsible. The important thing is I kept my head and my environmental suit is still intact."

She knocked on the enclosed dome helmet over her head. Stepping forward in all her bold nature grasped the trooper and forced her to stand. Quinn casually dusted the trooper off and smiled softly. It was a familiar smile, one that 312 had seen often.

"I'm happy I ran into you, though - please don't take the blame for this, you silly lothcat." Stepping back, Quinn remembered how the trooper functioned and paused.

"That's an order," Quinn nodded as she began to walk in the direction it seemed 312 came from. "I was looking for you; there are some things I need you to help me with. Particularly ruining another Sith Lord's day." Grinning, she stopped and looked to 312.

"Darth Strosius is transmitting his silly little cult's rhetoric. I would like to stop that and drive the mission back to what it's supposed to be." Quinn paused again as she worked through the idea and stood before the trooper.

"We need to find where they're being transmitted from. Do you think you and your troopers are up to the task?"

The smile widened as she mused, "You did almost kill me, which good job you've gotten quite sneaky - so you owe me this favor, 312."

 

[Lirka Ka]

OBJECTIVE I - COUNCIL OF COMMANDERS
TAGS: War Marshal Helix Darth Virelia Delsin Shaw Rae Cooke Ivalyn Yvarro Taeli Raaf Darth Malum of House Marr

There was no trial more worthy than a trial by fire. Today in the meeting hall, pressure filled the room, and now came the waiting game to see who would fire off the first spark that'd set it all alight. She had gained quite the audience, it seemed - good: let them all bear witness to the Empire's newest-of-warlords. With the, perhaps unfortunate, arrival of Darth Malum of House Marr almost the entire council now stood upon the Darklight. Yet others had joined now, the unfamiliar face of Delsin Shaw and of course the arrival of the woman who had provided this first thorn in Lirka's metal side - Ivalyn Yvarro

She met the woman's coldness with her own - the frigid gleam of plundered beskar from long departed moridinane, a metal helmet marred by Carnifex's touch and christened in the death of billions. All the more reason the Once-Sephi's demands of peace remained distinctly uncharacteristic, but such was the nature of higher callings. If she wished to debase herself down to the levels petty violence and unproductive annoyances, she would have taken lessons from dear Darth Strosius

Many spoke, none would be ignored. The hand of Lirka Ka reached wide, and all who attended would be heard. Their words were carefully considered in the labyrinthine lunacy of the Imperator. Shaw was given first attention, though the gleaming slit lenses of her helm never left Ivalyn - ultimately the what bloodshed came from today would begin by the commonwealth, or by idiots destined for the Pit and Lirka's metal fists. That fact demanded a certain...extra attention for today's "guest of honor." When the Once-Sephi spoke once more, it remained cool and droid-like, accented with the serpentine slithering of a politician.

"By the grace of Sith-Imperial will, we extend our hand for this to be a bloodless exchange. But a bloodless bout demands both hands to be linked; the task shall be performed with approval or not. The strength of the bond we may forge today shall depend entirely on what our local associates here decide to do."

Politics, such a troublesome thing. The newcomer represented an unknown variable, an unfortunate frustration Lirka had come to accept the higher she rose among the ranks - so for now she would preach peace among those who believed so heavily (herself included, of course) that Peace is a Lie. Yet Lirka was far from foolish enough to put the ball-of-bloodshed in the Third's court.

This was no different than any of the gladiator pits littered across Sith-Imperial space and beyond, today would just be a day to dance with words instead of blades. She paid extra attention to the next councilor to speak, enough for her eyes to leave the form of the Vizier for the lord of the Tsis'kaar instead. And she noted the little knife wormed into those words, she may have judged the Tsis'Kaar with unnecessarily harsh lenses but weariness of assassins simply came with her line of work: what was this command room but an assassin's dream?

A palm raised from the table in brief correction, and Lirka allowed her words to betray no anger.

"Poignant, Councilor. Yet an important distinction must be made, these are not my maps before us today, but the Empire's. Such matters of technology should be passed through the supplementary sources given to me by the Empire. Or in cruder terms. Take up any mapping mistakes with Typhogem."

There was a very long list of things to blame Lirka Ka for, a mapping mistake would not be one. The Empire used its dear Super-AI greedily, Darklight was no different. Lirka was a guiding hand or commanding fist, depending on the day, yet on this vessel, there was only so much to be done when a machine possessed so much control over the many systems of this microcosm of Jutrand.

With the Councilor dealt with, she quickly returned her lenses to Ivalyn. Ice would be met with ice, the callousness of a commander most-brutal in the wake of a potential bloodbath.

"Perhaps, perhaps not. An irrelevancy - the Third shall adapt or die. If mere volcanic ash slows the advance of the Shattermarch, well...I suppose I don't really need to say it: do I?"

Quickly did the brightest of nuisances rise to the fold. Darth Virelia the girl that Lirka hoped for so much from, and yet ended up disappointed time and time again. She was getting soft in her second century. Evidently encouraged by one of the gnats she kept in her orbit the Imperator acknowledged the woman with a hesitancy

Bold as ever, and careless. So deeply, deeply careless. An unfortunate reminder of the many times she had tried to cram the same lesson of the careful blade into her children, it was a damnable shame that, unlike them Serina was even less likely to listen to anything she had to say. Chaffing under the vast opportunity given to her

Had it not been grossly unbecoming she would have let her helmet fall into her hands in sheer exasperation. Calis would do as Calis did, it was merely unfortunate that for now they shared the same noose gifted to them by the Emperor. She was so close, and alas, ego had taken hold once more. She considered letting the scientist and the serpent in the room rip her head off for Lirka, but there was muscle to flex here.

She was just Arch-Commandant after all. A reminder was necessary. She could barb as much as she wanted, but she'd have just said the same thing. She worked with the information given to her, and if that involved sabotage by machine, so be it. Lirka spoke not with venom, but instead with the simple tired scolding she had done time and time again.

"You, Arch-Commandant Serina Calis should do very well to recall that I am Imperator. Not you. Let it be known my orders still stand: operations on Ryoone shall continue as they are, do not fire unless fired upon. We will not allow our mission to falter, yet if the the Commonwealth representative so wishes to jest and deny us: so be it. It is my show of good faith as Imperator that I welcome your people aboard the Darklight. Separation shall do us no good in this new Galaxy gripped by chaos, it is by clasped hands we shall persevere."

Of course, there it was. The nipping at things far beyond either of their station, and while Lirka had extended this open hand to the natives she turned now to give a look to Taeli Raaf

Words were not necessary this time, a simple wave of the arm as she yielded the floor to the Councilor. She could do with her Arch-Commandant as she wished; hierarchies had to be maintained after all. It was only a fool who insulted the upper echelons of the Empire to their face without something at their back. In truth, Lirka was rather excited to see what happened. A grim fascination at the vast potentiality for punishment that laid before them.

She just hoped it wouldn't stain the floors on the Darklight's first outing.

 

[War Marshal Helix]

Objective I: Council of Commanders
Tags: Lirka Ka / Darth Virelia / Ivalyn Yvarro / Taeli Raaf / Darth Malum of House Marr / Delsin Shaw / Quinn Varanin / Rae Cooke / @anyone else I forgot / OPEN​

"If I may, Imperator. Arch-Commandant." Put in Helix, speaking up for the first time and filling the room with his unpleasant, insectile buzz of a voice. He chose his pitch and tombre very deliberately, injecting notes of infrasound designed to make most humanoid life forms uneasy and anxious.

"This aggression is best saved for our final destination. No party involved stands to profit if these negotiations slide south. Quite the contrary. It will cost us time, resources, and soldiers. Three things we will need in abundance when we reach Firefist. It will cost the locals far more of all three. Either our brief sojourn here is tolerated, and we move on, or a pointless conflict emerges in which everyone loses. Only one choice is the logical one."

The apparition's three-eyed gaze swiveled to the ambassador, Yvarro. He was keenly aware that Serina's outburst had not made the situation better, and turning the Council against them was just more on the pile. Helix was not averse to conflict, or making enemies, but liked to think he was strategic about both.

"I am a practical being. I find proselytization tiresome, but it is the Third's stated mission. If we fail to secure Firefist, you may have to endure far worse than simple missionaries and book-thumpers. Holy men will move on when they realize they have wasted their time. Whatever lurks in the satellite galaxy may not. Were I in your extremely unenviable position, I would choose the former as a matter of survival."

"Peace is seldom a popular proposition in the Sith Order, but it is the only strategically beneficial one at this juncture. So far, no shots are fired and no lives lost. In fact, your only loss so far is in enduring a religious sales pitch. You can heed my words or not, but know that they come from nearly ten centuries of experience in visiting worlds far less friendly than this one, and having nearly this same conversation. Conflict needs to serve a purpose. Otherwise, it is wasteful." The colony shrugged, or made a fairly good approximation of a shrug.

"That is my advice to all of you. Bicker if you like, but I would caution against any more than that. We don't need to like each other. Few people in the galaxy do. But resorting to open hostilities is pointless, particularly when this is a temporary discomfort at best for all parties involved."

Helix brought up his tactical display again, studying and showing every sign of disengaging from the conversation. He'd said his part, but wasn't holding out any hope that it would be paid any mind. He was here to do the Imperator's dirty work, not for his opinions.

 

[Darth Strosius]

Objective: 3 Subvert the Message
Equipment: Lightsaber - Sword - Dagger - Robes
Tags: CT-312 / Lúthien Tinúviel / Quinn Varanin
--------------------------------------------

"Oh it is very much too perfect indeed Agent Nightingale." Of that there was no doubt, His excitement hadn't blinded Him to the delicacy of the task at hand. If the Commonwealth called on their benefactor then the Third Legion would be forced to parley with a Dark Councilor which could very well threaten this whole operation. Raaf did not enjoy anyone playing with her toys after all. If the Third Legion was doing this operation in a precise manner then they'd have already set about jamming any transmissions out of the system so that the rest of the Commonwealth couldn't intervene.

Hopefully that would delay the intervention of Raaf as well, but given Kainite leadership there was no guarantee of precision nor intelligent decision making. Raaf could very well be on the way to the system now if not already on a call which meant that their window of opportunity was rapidly closing. It was time to shatter it.

"Luck does not favor those such as we, circumstance is always twisted against our goals." Darth Strosius shifted in His seat as He glanced back at Nightingale, the details of the planet's surface growing more visible as the shuttle broke through the atmosphere and began its descent. "However, there are some instances such as these where luck has spurned another, and in doing so has allowed us a chance at a prize." The fate of Ryoone itself hardly mattered, the spilling of blood this day was all that He cared about.

Which thus far had been decidedly lackluster. A standoff of sorts between the Third Legion and the local Commonwealth forces had taken place it seemed, no shots fired thus far. No matter, that was where they would come in. No doubt this whole issue would be swept under the proverbial rug one way or another but so long as luck remained against their foes then they could leave a scar or two for later. They would just need a little bit of time to do the deed.

"We will need subtlety of the highest degree here, Nightingale. If either of our foes discover our actions then we could very well be faced with two opponents, neither of which we can stave off. They are already at odds, all we must do is ignite them against one another and then take our prize while they are occupied." The masked man sat up as the ship pierced through the clouds, veering towards the city below. He looked towards the pilot and gestured out of the viewport. "Bring us down near the closest vox-pylon and reaffirm the connection with the Harbinger of Absolution. These shuttles will have to suffice as our broadcast hubs until we can take control of enough of the pylons to bury our message within them."

The Harbinger was specialized in subverting communications such as these of course but it was mainly meant to be present for such interference to work, they'd have to make their subversions self-sustaining in the existing pylon network this time. Not at all impossible but certainly inconvenient and rather precarious given the circumstances. Hopefully once the Commonwealth and Legion started shooting at one another the task would be far easier, the pylons swiftly forgotten in favor of a proper invasion plan.

Darth Strosius would be the first out of the shuttle, although the others from the Harbinger that soared overhead towards the other pylons meant that He wouldn't be the last. He looked back at Nightingale and His soldiers which filed out behind the pair of Sith, forgoing their usual armor in favor of a more generic Sith pattern. Ones that would not at all be out of place in the ranks of the Third Legion. "Remember, keep low and stick to the shadows, we want them to shoot at one another and not at us. Begin the signal hijack."

 

[Taeli Raaf]

Objective I: Attend the Council
Sub-Objective: Manners Maketh Man
Lirka Ka Darth Virelia Ivalyn Yvarro Darth Malum of House Marr Delsin Shaw War Marshal Helix Rae Cooke
​

As the first answer came from Lirka about why Ryoone had been chosen as a first stop, that Ryoone was to be test run for the more ecclesiastical elements of the Third Legion's remit and a stop over as better charts were created for the eventual entry into Firefist, she was starting to form a greater picture in her mind about what had occurred with this incursion. It would appear that an oversight in planning, a genuine misunderstanding of how far the Commonwealth had expanded in their mission to reclaim influence over the former First Order worlds, had not been reflected in post-Planeshift maps of the galaxy. Perhaps that had merely been because Typhojem was not active in the Commonwealth worlds and, as advanced as the artifical intelligence created by the Emperor was, it still needed that sort of data to actually create the maps for the Darklight and the legion following it.

She would offer a diplomatic smile of her own as first Ivalyn, finally, arrived and most surprisingly, her colleague from the Dark Council. Ivalyn had been expected simply because she had messaged Taeli in the first place about the incursion, but Malum... perhaps he had taken their conversation on Ziost to heart. He had also been a signatory of the Najarka Accords so there was also enough political capital investment into the Commonwealth remaining a vassal, a partner, of the Sith to continue that arrangement.

And then Serina decided to step forward and offer her own... opinion on the matter.

Taeli's expression did not change, but her head would slowly turn in the direction of this legion's current Arch-Commandant as they attempted to assert themselves over the situation, over the individuals in this room who out-ranked her in the legion and within the Sith political structure. To assert themselves in such a way they thought they were untouchable, that Ivalyn and the Commonwealth would have to accept the situation, that the two Dark Councilors were powerless to stop it all. How curious that one could be so correct and yet be so wrong at the same time, but it was the last part, the once again displayed disrespect or rudeness that brought a small sigh from her lips and a slight bowing of her head to hide her full expression.

She would look up again as Lirka began the process of asserting her actual authority over her Arch-Commandant and meet the look the Imperator gave her with an imperceptible nod. Helix, the droid officer she had once encountered within Strosius' orbit that had now expanded itself to far more potent ones such as the Imperator's and Malum's, proposing a logical outcome and pragmatic outlook that would likely serve Lirka far better in the planned excursion into Firefist.

But her attention, her once again full attention, would return to the young woman that had tried to retreat back into the shadows once she said her peace.

"You are technically correct, Serina, that the Najarka Accords do not list Ryoone as a world recognized officially by the Sith Empire as within the borders of the Commonwealth. It is almost as though that treaty agreement was made a few years ago and the Commonwealth expanded, as they were allowed to do given the autonomy granted within the initial accords. You are also technically correct that the Eternalist Church is allowed to proselytize within Commonwealth territory, but the nature of such religious and cultural sharing is a matter best left to cultural ministers and the respective heads of the religious organizations within both nations. Thirdly, you are also correct that an Imperator and their legion have a higher degree of independence while on campaign beyond the border from our oversight."

There would be a beat... and just a flicker of movement. Whereas before she had been standing next to Ivalyn and Malum, she was suddenly in front of Serina, her hand already striking out with Force augmented strength to slap the young woman down. Helmet or not, the force of her blow would drive Serina into the one position she hated most of all... to kneel. Her command of the dark side would keep the younger Sith there, pinned into the position she never wanted to be in.

"But you need to learn to quit while you are ahead," she would whisper to the girl. "A lesson the Imperator seems quite fine with allowing me to impart upon you. The first lesson was in private, but now the second must be done publicly."

Her voice would resume its normal volume, her tone conversational.

"Imperator Ka, I would perhaps suggest a rearranging of your command structure with perhaps Helix becoming your second in command, but the choice is yours of course. Serina, I would suggest in the future you recognize that your orders cannot countermand the directions issued by your superiors. Imperator Ka gave quite clear instructions on how the Legion will conduct itself while this matter is cleaned up, and wouldn't you know it, three of the primary signatories of those original accords are present in this very room so negotiations can be done to address that very point. Furthermore, once again I remind you, that in the absence of the Emperor or his Voice within a given environment, a Dark Councilor acts as his will and voice. Two of them are in attendance at this gathering and you would do well to remember that your word is not a decree from the Emperor. Ours is."

Another flicker of movement and she was back to where she had been standing previously, although her power would continue asserting itself to keep Serina pinned.

"Ivalyn, Lirka, I'm sure a mutual agreement can be made here for better astronavigation charts post-Planeshift and cooperation between the Third Legion and the Commonwealth as the mission to Firefist continues. Perhaps elements of the Fourteenth can be attached to the mission, and perhaps a leasing agreement for a connecting base between the expedition and our shared territories."

She would leave that part for them to discuss, with of course her and Malum providing some much needed... structure to hold it in place. A thought would slip into her younger colleague's mind, just a quiet whisper of "A renegotiation of the original Accords may be needed. Something we can discuss after this matter is cleaned up properly."

 

[Ivalyn Yvarro]

Ivalyn Yvarro stood still for a beat longer than necessary. The pause, deliberate, practiced, allowed silence to reclaim the chamber after the storm of declarations. Her expression remained unchanged; porcelain composure honed in the crucible of courtrooms, senates, and battlefields far more punishing than a territorial lecture delivered in a war-dressed conference chamber.

A faint, glacial smile touched her lips. It did not reach her eyes.

"Had the Commonwealth received prior notice of the Third Legion's arrival," she said smoothly, her tone not so much condescending as it was heartbreakingly polite, "we would, of course, have arranged a more appropriate welcome. Provisioning. Diplomatic liaisons. Perhaps even a modest celebration to mark the passage of such a bold Legion along the Crimson Spine."

She allowed that to settle, a subtle tilt of her head toward the towering figure of Arch-Commandant Serina Calis.

"Instead, you arrived unannounced. You unsettled local populations. You broadcast sermons before your boots cooled. A regrettable oversight, I'm sure. One the Commonwealth shall endeavor to rectify in future, should coordination ever be prioritized."

Her hands came together before her, lightly clasped, the posture of someone preparing to deliver either a benediction or a eulogy.

"We have no objection to the Planeshift. We were, in fact, among the first to confirm it. Our navigational divisions charted the realignment within hours of its emergence. And as a result," she added with a small, devastating smile, "we have already traced a direct hyperspace corridor from the Crimson Spine into the Firefist Galaxy. A passage which, had we known of your aims, we might have made available to you, with the full courtesy of safe harbor, Commonwealth logistical support, and civilian shielding where necessary."

The implication sat between them like fine porcelain placed just a touch too firmly on a table.

Ivalyn turned now to Lord Malum, then to Lady Raaf, offering each a nod, precise and respectful.

"You will recall, my lords, that the original Najarkan Accords, drafted in good faith, binding the two parties together. The Commonwealth's expansion has always been deliberate, lawful, stabilizing. Our growth secures the Empire's western flank, provides consistent refueling and patrol stations, and ensures missionaries and emissaries of the Sith Order travel unimpeded through regions otherwise fraught with volatility."

Her voice cooled a further degree. Silk drawn taut over ice.

"And yet today, our first message from the Third Legion was not one of partnership, but of possession."

She allowed that to land, her eyes steady.

"Surely you understand my confusion."

Her gaze returned to Serina, tone lifting slightly as though correcting a particularly gifted but unrefined student.

"You are, of course, correct in your legal reading, Arch-Commandant. Ryoone has moved. The stars do not ask our permission to realign. I do not challenge that celestial truth."

She smiled again. This one warmer, but only in the way a candle might be warm, seconds before the wax scalds.

"But diplomacy is not the art of being correct. It is the art of being welcome."

A pause, and then.

"And for someone so evidently concerned with jurisdiction, it is curious you show so little interest in consent."

Let them digest that.

"My intent was not to throw down a gauntlet. Nor to demand apology for astronavigation. It was, purely and simply, to ensure that moving forward, we do not mistake initiative for incursion. The Commonwealth is not your enemy. We are your neighbor. And our history with the Sith Order has always been one of cooperation, not conquest."

She inclined her head once more to the Dark Council.

"And as ever, we remain open to discussing revised territorial arrangements, should the Assembly find the time."

A final breath, calm, cool, and perfectly timed.

"Until then, we shall behave as guests. Graciously. Quietly. And in full awareness that hospitality, like sovereignty, must be reciprocated."

Another pause.

"Or else risk withering into something far less pleasant."

The Vizier inclined her head ever so slightly, as if weighing the suggestion not for its merit, of which there was plenty, but for its timing.

"Naturally," Ivalyn said, her tone measured with the same elegance one might use when discussing the weather over bone china, "the Commonwealth is always eager to support our allies. We consider it not an obligation, but a point of pride to ensure that those who journey into the unknown do so provisioned, informed, and fortified."

She glanced once more toward Arch-Commandant Calis, the faintest flicker of irony passing behind her eyes like a starship in low orbit—there, then gone. "I can assure the Council," she continued smoothly, "that should the Third Legion require logistical support, safe harbor, or material assistance along the Crimson Spine, our ports and stations remain, pending proper coordination, at their disposal."

A pause, subtle, deliberate.

"In fact, had such coordination preceded this endeavor, you may very well have reached Firefist by now."

The line was not a rebuke, but it shimmered with that distinctly Commonwealth luster, diplomatic, yet undeniable.

"We shall, of course, liaise with the appropriate officers to determine what supplies are required and where our corridors may most efficiently accommodate your advance. The Commonwealth is no stranger to frontier support. We have shepherded vessels, colonies, and even crusades into harsher voids than this."

Then, with a genteel smile, she offered the closing stroke, part courtesy, part reminder. "As ever, our resources are shared in trust, not tribute. We give not from obligation, but conviction, that stability is best achieved not through volume of arms, but through the strength of accord."

She turned her gaze toward Darth Malum and Lady Raaf in turn, inclining her head with that effortless grace born of old breeding and older expectation. "And we thank you, my lords, for recognizing the Commonwealth's longstanding commitment to partnership. That trust shall not go unanswered."

Taeli Raaf | Darth Virelia | War Marshal Helix | Lirka Ka | Darth Malum of House Marr | Delsin Shaw | Rae Cooke ​

 

[Darth Malum of House Marr]

There was a lot of talking.

It was no criticism, in much regard the fact that so much discussion had been allowed between those that held such a deep competency in murder, and who had learned the very key truth that force so often could determine the righteousness of a cause beyond that of discourse... well, suffice it to say the fact they were talking rather than trading blows was a blessing more than a curse.

Even if some of them seemed far too performative about it, he could hardly blame them however, it was the same lessons that the rhetoricians of his youth had taught him.

And this time, it was to his benefit even, the Lord of the Tsis'Kaar slinking back to his shadows, as those who wished to speak took their limelight.

Of course, he could not truly escape, but, what distance he did make, provided excellent view for him to enjoy the ongoing show.

A smile formented by the white haired stranger that had seen fit to add his own very brisque commentary to the affairs, even as he narrowed red eyes behind the mask at the words of the Calis girl... it was unfortunate really, such legal arguments may have been once what he would have used when he had found himself in situations of his unmaking at his own making.

...Alas he had learned quickly enough that in the face of power, wielded by those with the precision of surgeons, legalism so often failed to bring one dues. Still, he cared little for the girl, all apart from the connection she held to an old friend, if she wished to be humiliated by a Dark Councillor... well he was hardly one to shame such behaviour.

He tilted his masked head towards the once Sephi, offering a plain nod as the excuse was accepted. There was a reason he personally kept the Emperor's eyes as far away from him as possible...

...Such that he was glad that he now had a new excuse, that would be looked upon far more kindly.

The good commodore was the next to speak, and quickly the smile returned as she spoke in the measured tones of a course that was both sensible and efficient. Such as ever, he was glad that the droid was on his side... on their side, and glad for the high position that he had found himself on the Third.

And, considering the Calis' girl's latest outburst, maybe higher still.

He listened idly to Lady Yvarro's words last, that she had seemed to have come out of this encounter an ally of sorts had been a boon he had not expected, but he was hardly one to look a gift horse in the mouth.

As for Calis...

Maybe he enjoyed her humbling a bit too much, but even he had raised a brow at the speed that the mother of monsters had wielded to be standing right before the deliquent Arch-Commandant, "...It seems a pattern of ill-behaviour with this one..." Malum mused aloud, yet, seemingly having forgotten there was an audience present, "...Indeed, I find it difficult to remember what services she has rendered our Empire thus far, infamous for attacking a Sith world, is that not right?" Malum continued on, tilting his head to consider the attractive blonde, as if she was a particularly interesting insect, "...Oh and of course, to reject my aid so publicly in the midst of our battle with the Alliance on Ukatis..." The ghost of a smile seemed to simmer through his words, "...Speaking of the Assembly, I do not seem to recall a vote to confer upon you a governorship either..." He flicked his gaze towards the once Sephi, and the droid that seemed a far more appropriate second.

"As far as I know, the girl is my colleague's pet to train and adjust to the realities of our Order, so I will offer no recommendation beyond what Darth Arcanix has, however, I will humbly suggest that you bring aboard your retinue another Arch-Commandant, it would seem to me that it would do good for the legion for its cholers to be balanced by the other humours, no?" His gaze turned back towards the kneeling Calis, "Take it from the Lord of the Tsis'Kaar, I know when I have identified a snake, let us not allow its fangs to infect the Legion with its venom without some fight."

He tilted his head towards Darth Arcanix, as the message whistled sweetly by his drums. An answer sent in reply equally as silent, passing through unmoving lips, "As you wish, my lady."

Taeli Raaf Lirka Ka War Marshal Helix Darth Virelia Ivalyn Yvarro Delsin Shaw

 

[Darth Virelia]

"..."

Tags - OBJECTIVE ONE: Lirka Ka War Marshal Helix Ivalyn Yvarro Rae Cooke Darth Malum of House Marr Delsin Shaw


She finally snapped.

There was no sound. Not truly. Not anymore.

Not after what had just happened.

Even the air seemed to recoil from her, the very atmosphere around Serina Calis held its breath. And then it began to tremble.

Something in the dark—shifted.

No motion announced it. No voice cried out. But from the center of the hall where Serina had been forced to kneel, where the humiliating pressure of Darth Arcanix's power had ground her into the polished floor like an insect beneath a boot, something changed. It was not a rejection of the command. It was a refusal of the world.

There was a hiss—metal on metal, breath pulled through gritted teeth, or perhaps the armor itself cracking under the strain—and then a pulse rippled outward from her kneeling form. No lightning. No grand display of Force power. Just hatred, pure, unfiltered, and ancient. The kind of hatred that leaves scars not on bodies, but on the soul of the room. One that made the consoles flicker. The lights dim. The metal walls sigh.

The violet node at the heart of her chestplate began to thrum. Louder. Louder. Then the sound dropped into infrasonic depths that made the inner ears of every biological being in the chamber cry out in alarm. Even the droids shifted uncomfortably, as if sensing something anomalous.

Then came the pop.

The middle lens of Serina's mask—a sliver on the centre right of the void-like faceplate—burst outward in a tiny explosion of pressure, the armored iris hissing back like a cornea peeled open by force. Beneath it: her eye. Her eye.

Glowing. Blazing. Ultraviolet fire, raw and incandescent. A line of light, focused and screaming through a singular expression of all-consuming rage.

She did not cry out. She did not protest.

She simply stood.

She, for the first time, defied Arcanix's grip. Through the gravity pressing her down. Through the will of the Dark Council. Through the scorn of the Imperator and the mockery of Malum. Through the venomous diplomacy of Ivalyn. She rose—not lifted by grace, but wrenched into motion by her own refusal to be beneath them.

Ambition, bloodlust, hatred, vengeance.

The floor cracked beneath her boot. The air crackled around her, ionizing under the pressure of her presence. Even the cape of her armor—Tyrant's Embrace—whipped behind her not from movement, but from the sheer magnetic distortion of the storm building within her soul.

Her breath was loud. Louder than it should have been. No microphone. No enhancement. Just breathing, made monstrous by fury. Every inhale a war drum. Every exhale a death sentence.

She did not look at them. Not at first.

Not Arcanix, who wielded her like a child punishing a misbehaving doll.

Not Lirka, who sat in that throne she dared to call command while letting serpents gnaw at her second.

Not Malum, who pontificated like he mattered.

Not Yvarro, with her porcelain mask and daggered tongue.

They not were people. Not noise. Not faces.

Just… fury.

Her footfalls were not hurried. They were a march—slow, precise, deliberate. Each one like a countdown. Each one pressing onlookers back without lifting a hand. The architecture of the Darklight groaned faintly as she passed, conduits vibrating as if the ship itself feared what moved within it. Droids flickered offline in her wake. Sith Knights along the perimeter involuntarily stepped back. One even dropped his weapon, his body betraying him before he could comprehend why.

And still, she did not speak.

A lesser creature would have begged. Protested. Delivered some clever retort to preserve their pride. But Serina Calis was not lesser. She was Dominion.

The doors to the chamber hissed open—but not fast enough.

She walked through them before the archway had fully cleared, shoulder-plates scraping against the metal, forcing it to part around her like the galaxy itself ought to.

Then—

She stopped.

Just past the threshold. She didn't need to. There was nothing in front of her. She had no audience.

But they did.

With mechanical precision, her head turned—just a few degrees.

Her faceplate did not move.

Only the one, exposed eye. That one furious, luminous eye—set into the mask of an apex predator forged in death and defiance—cut back across the room in absolute silence. It stared not at any one person. It took them all in. Together.

And it hated. Oh, all that remained was...

HATRED

It hated with the unrelenting purity of a dying star collapsing in on itself.

With the intimacy of a betrayal that could never be forgiven.

With the savagery of a woman who had surrendered everything for power—only to be shackled by the very hand that had promised her freedom.

None of them deserved what was coming, and yet all of them would receive it.

The council chamber, for a moment, felt like it was underwater. Pressure bloomed against lungs. Ears popped. Eyes watered. The Darklight's artificial gravity struggled to compensate.

That eye—her eye—was a promise.

A reckoning would come.

And when it did, it would be patient. It would be exact. And it would never be merciful.

Serina Calis had given everything.

So now she would take everything.

Then, without a word, she turned again, vanishing down the corridor with the whisper of armor on steel.

But the hatred lingered.

Inevitable.

 

[Lirka Ka]

OBJECTIVE I - COUNCIL OF COMMANDERS
TAGS - Delsin Shaw Darth Virelia War Marshal Helix Darth Malum of House Marr Taeli Raaf Ivalyn Yvarro Rae Cooke


Sith, such an emotional sort. Darth Virelia had made her mess and the councilors responded. By nature of the duos stature, they wanted attention first before the Imperator could return to the matters of this whole Ryoone debacle - there was certainly plenty to consider after all. Serina was a messy girl, she exemplified the passions of the Sith that Lirka had found so tiresome while walking the Dark Path - a passion that most certainly had drawn ire from her fellows.

With idleness she watched Taeli Raaf smack the girl down in violent discipline. All seemed to have ignored the wise council of War Marshal Helix , and Lirka was reminded well why she enjoyed keeping the Mechanoid in her orbit. FIrefist was the plan today, though rarely did things go to plan in this Empire it seemed. It mattered little, she mused. Darklight stood, the council room had not yet erupted into destructive violence, and there were plenty more worlds to bring into the fold as the Third rode the storm of change forward.

And then there it was, that duel of egos. The wisdom of Helix clashing against the fire of Serina.

For a time, she said nothing. She'd let Darth Malum of House Marr speak his piece on the matter at hand as simple curtsey - even if Lirka had already made up her mind the moment Arcanix had finished.

Ego. Humiliation. The council wished to throw around their weight in the wake of petty jabs and disapproval of missions. Each word she strummed carefully regardless of forgone conclusion - they twisted the knife plenty. She could see it on the Arch Commandant's face the second she hit the floor, and Lirka remained utterly unsurprised to see the girl storm out in fire and fury in response. It was an expectable outcome, a desirable outcome even. Flames would be fanned, though admittedly the Imperator would have certainly enjoyed her to stay for a few moments longer once she deigned it time to actually speak to the gathered assembly.

She had saved her on Calladene, she would save her again. Potentiality demanded it.

"A fascinating proposition..."

Lirka spoke as if in actual contemplation of the suggestion proposed. They could suggest, they could try to do all they wished. But this was her legion. This was her march. The Emperor had gifted her the noose of a Legion and a lofty task. If the Council wished to throw around their weight, Lirka would do the same.

"...You think I am to deny myself a blade for something as quintessentially Sith as mere ego? She is but a girl, for what is the curse of youth if not to struggle against our Elders? My Arch-Commandant stays, as a Warrior, not as a pet."

She spat the word out with venom, the girl deserved plenty of scorn for a myriad of reasons that seemed to be unending. But a pet? Lirka took more insult to herself than for her Second, Lirka Ka did not keep pets. Pets were for sentimental fools, Pets were tethers. He could jab about service all he liked, they were blind beings. Lirka understood very well what purpose Serina Calis served on the Dark Path - even if it was a purpose she walked unwittingly. She would not have it squandered.

"Governorship, an irrelevancy. Ukatis, a defeat far away. The mess on Saijo, experience for the hard days to come. The matters of you and Calis's personal misgivings are beneath my station, Lord Marr. I have a crusade to run, a Galaxy to tame. Yet I will yield to the councilors this, there is certainly an eye for the greatest among us."

Lirka saw serpents all around her, what was the Empire but a coiling mass of them? All writhing, knotted together, gnashing at each other till only one remained paramount. It was a beautiful thing, she welcomed it with open arms. Yet there was still some wisdom to be found here today, she leaned back in her throne, firing a gesture off to the ever-calm Helix.

"Henceforth, Commodore. I elevate you to War Marshal of the Third Legion, you and Calis shall stand by my side as we ride the storm of this new age. And bring about a new glorious age for this Empire,. I have spoken, it is done."

The matter of Ryoone needed attendance now, she turned to Ivalyn Yvarro now.

"Apologies, as I'm sure you can understand such matters of...pettiness...demand a certain extra degree of attention when in Sithdom."

Metallic claws clicked against her armrest as she listened to the woman speak. This time there was infinitely more to considered than her odd directives to keep Serina Calis from politically immolating herself.

"The storm is our announcement, little more. The deployment and usage of Vox Pylons are matters of Typhojem's make, and while it may be regrettable bout to unsettle your people. They would be wise to overcome such things for the monsters that lay so close to your borders now, Vizier. You speak of paths charted, the gem of Firefist laid bare. I will reiterate what I have said before, to charge so blindly into the unknown is little better that suicide. I will not squander what has been built so readily."

A pause, brief. Lirka simmered quietly, these matters of diplomacy were infinitely more tiring than the intent for this gathering. There was conquest to plan, agreements to be forged. Alas.

"The offer of assistance is one accepted and acknowledged with grace and understanding. For we are forged of an Empire in totality, to exclude our vassal would defeat the purpose of this menagerie of many unified beneath the banner of one. Partnership, possession, I was given my information and responded accordingly in the matter of deployment ordained within the purpose of this vessel."

At least she wasn't the raiders of the second, that certainly could have made a proper mess of this.

"Typhojem is charged with deploying resources to spread the word of the Eternalist church, our forces the peaceful deployment of such assets. To risk the withering of such peace would be to invite the annihilation from a legion's storm, a woefully unproductive thing as I'm sure we can both agree."

She noted the councilors certainly got more attention than herself, not a shocking fact. One Lirka certainly would have preferred rectified for her own ego's sake, the fire and brimstone could bring to bear was in her metal claws - not theirs, after all.

"Many of the matters today now seem to be within the purview of the assembly, and those who drafted our many bills. On such a matter, I have nothing to share for that is but an alien battleground compared to the holy work of a Legion. Draft as you wish, propose as you will. The Third shall continue as we must, and to that end I offer my hand in understanding that we will endeavor to avoid such...debacles with the Commonwealth in the future when the true prize lays close."

The maps shifted, focused. Information flew around the room and Firefist presented itself.

"Companion Besh, Firefist. A place of monsters, savages, raiders, and extra-galactic invaders. A wild and untouched place by the beauty of what we have built within our Empire, and place that this gathered assembly of the Third shall tame. Such is our charge. You say you wish those who venture the unknown travel well-informed, so do share, loyal-partner-of-the-Empire. What do you know about this place?"

Lirka needed to get this mess back on topic, after all.

 

[War Marshal Helix]

Objective I: Council of Commanders
Tags: Delsin Shaw Taeli Raaf Darth Virelia Lirka Ka Darth Malum of House Marr Ivalyn Yvarro Rae Cooke​

Helix's hand fell discreetly to the butt of his sidearm as the tensions in the room suddenly exploded. An old reflex, a holdover from when the weapon didn't rank near the bottom of his deadliest possessions. Serina's words evoked a predictable reaction. The young woman had her virtues, but reading the room was never one of them. In most circles, such behavior might have been quietly ignored, or perhaps treated with derision. This was not most circles.

Sith killed one another over personal slights. Matters of actual power and rank got even uglier. Helix didn't consider most present his equal either, but was tactful enough to put such feelings aside for the sake of the task at hand. He could understand Serina's clear dislike of established hierarchies and the Order's various tiresome sacred cows. It was a sentiment he heartily shared. Sacred cows had a way of festering and growing stagnant. The Order was a highly conservative body, for all that the common zeitgeist crowed on about chain-breaking and passion. Conservatism meant enough untouchable, uncriticizable institutions and individuals to fill an entire library's worth of books.

There was a time and a place. He doubted Serina would learn from this, and instead just add another tally mark to her lengthy and ever-expanding list of enemies. No matter. Seeing the bigger picture was his problem, not hers. It could be discussed later. In the meantime, he kept that one gnarled claw resting on his pistol. He wouldn't interrupt this display of the pecking order. Not unless it escalated further. He still had uses for Serina, after all.

Once, just once, he wished that the Sith could have a war council without it exploding into a brawl. If such a gathering went on long enough, it was a statistical certainty that somebody would take offense to somebody.

He blinked in surprise as the Dark Councilor recommended to Lirka that he take Serina's place. The glowing nano-clusters that passed for his eyes winked off, and on. Simultaneously flattering and unfortunate. While he didn't doubt he could do a better job, he also had no interest in being positioned as a rival to the Arch-Commandant. They understood one another, at least as much as two utterly self-absorbed beings could. It was in his interest to ensure that the upstart stuck around. Upstarts had to stick together if they ever planned to shake things up.

"If you think so highly of me, then kindly release my colleague." He asked quietly. "She has her uses, among them a reminder that authority is meant to be challenged, if it intends to stay sharp. If the disagreements are quite finished, we do have a task to prosecute, and I would like to stay mission-focused." His tone was polite, professional, and even, but he would not be intimidated.

His gaze turned to follow Serina as she left. He shifted slightly in his seat. He wasn't sure if she had been let go or simply broken loose, but he knew the result would be the same, in the end. He released a mechanical impersonation of a sigh. Another problem for the future. He'd have a word with her later.

Helix did his best to conceal his impatience with this pointless bureaucratic obstruction. They'd never get anything done if they had the Council breathing down their necks throughout the entire war effort, second-guessing the Imperator's every call. Disappointingly typical, but that was war. A million forms to sign to launch one missile. More than that, though, it was a reminder. The higher-ups wished to come and remind the fresh, bloodthirsty young Imperator of her place in things. He was pleased to see that Lirka didn't collapse immediately into groveling. Maybe they'd get somewhere after all.

He hoped this wasn't the start of a pattern, but a few microseconds' worth of calculations didn't paint an optimistic picture. It was nothing short of miraculous that they'd fared so well in their battles against the Alliance, if this was how the upper echelons of command operated.

Helix was in for his second surprise of the day, however. With but a sentence, he was propelled from a simple advisor and contributor, to sitting at the command table proper. Wonderful. More responsibility. He supposed he shouldn't register surprise. He was many things, but ineffective was typically not one of them.

"You honor me, Imperator." He inclined his head slightly. "I will do my best to live up to my station." Perhaps Lirka Ka was far more than the brute she playacted as. He'd not have expected a move to both reassure the council that matters were in capable hands, and avoid displacing Serina. Deftly done. His gaze flickered to the Dark Councilors. Malum he knew well. One of his relatively few allies, perhaps even a friend. He was less familiar with Taeli, save as a thorn in Darth Strosius ' side. He decided to be diplomatic, since Lirka seemed to have come to terms with the local ambassador. His surface rippled and his shoulderplates lost some of their posture of tension. Visible relief.

"And to the... expectations of the Dark Council. Your confidence flatters me. A rocky beginning, perhaps, but these operations are seldom entirely free of snags, particularly when a fresh army is finding its footing. Rest assured that we will not make a habit of it."

 

[Rae Cooke]

//: Darth Virelia //:
//: Attire //:

The sound of Taeli Raaf 's palm crossing against Serina echoed. As her bodyguard, the Corellian failed - but it would be suicide to stand between her Benefactor and the Dark Councilor. Rae wasn't stupid. Serina paid her well and offered her incentives to stay. Still, Serina couldn't resurrect her if Taeli decided to flatten the disruptive mercenary.

But as Serina fell, something dark stirred in the mercenaries' chest. Her eyes followed, watching the girl become humbled in front of her elders. It was a lesson she needed to learn—while she was correct, she failed at her delivery. Even here, Darth Malum of House Marr had shown a degree of maturity despite taking his shots at her charge as she fell from grace.

The flicker of knowing passed, and Rae returned to who she was. She stepped between Taeli and Serina as she knelt down, checking to make sure that the girl was not physically harmed. Her ego might be damaged, but it didn't seem she needed proper medical attention.

Maybe some aloe.

It took some time for the merc to catch up to her charge. She could feel the weight of the actions and her Benefactor's hate. They were lucky the woman had a better sense of control - or perhaps the ship would have become their tomb. Rae's footsteps stopped as she caught her breath. Everything that had happened - right now, she was reminded that Serina was a young girl trying to carve her name into the galaxy.

It could have been empathy, Rae knowing what it was like to make it through everything alone - or maybe something more profound.

Still, Rae slung the rifle over her shoulder and cautiously approached the woman.

"Benefactor?" she questioned, letting the facade of fear linger on her words. Serina wanted to be feared until she was compliant, and Rae would give her that at this moment.

Remembering the trip to Kamino, she paused. Rae didn't reach any further. She paused and exhaled softly. The doors of the room shut as if on a perfect timer, and when everything had cut them off from the outside, her attention returned.

Their similarities were funny. Yet, one was more mature and had learned to control her temper.

Rae brushed the tips of her gloved hand against the armor of her Benefactor.

"Don't let them win," she whispered as she stepped closer.

"They don't understand what they've done wrong; you can, be the one who shows them the error they just made." Rae paused.

"Right now is not the time. Let them live in ignorance…and strike when they least expect it." She nodded again, stepping closer to offer the comfort that could ease the pain of the embarrassment.

"Your victory is inevitable, my Benefactor." ​

 

[Darth Virelia]

"..."

Tags - OBJECTIVE ONE: Rae Cooke



For a time, there was only silence.

Not the kind one finds in an empty hall or a vacuum-sealed void. This was the silence of grief too vast for language. It pressed against the walls like an ocean, thick and cold, suffocating even thought.

Serina Calis did not turn at Rae's voice.

She stood at the far end of the corridor, her back to the doors that had closed like a prison cell behind them. Still. Motionless. As if she had been carved from the same black alloy as her armor. The glow of her exposed right eye dimmed, pulsing faintly within the depths of the helmet like a dying star caught in the throat of eternity.

The ship around her, for once, was calm. As if the Darklight itself feared to interrupt what was happening.

It took her a long time to speak.

When she did, her voice was small. Hollow. The words came not from the armored woman who had just shattered the floor with her defiance—but from something younger. More fragile. A girl standing beneath the ruins of a dream she had built from blood and brilliance.

"They hate me."

She said it like a realization. Like a confession.

"No matter what I do. No matter what I give them."

Her hand—clawed and black, a talon of phrik and cruelty—rose slowly to touch the side of her helm. It trembled. Just once.

"No matter how hard I try."

Her voice cracked, so softly that it barely registered through the modulator. But Rae would hear it. She was meant to.

"And still, I am the thing they punish. The one they humiliate. The one they drag to her knees in front of all the eyes that matter."

She finally turned.

The mask was still unreadable—obsidian and insectile—but the eye remained. That awful eye. Dim now. Weeping light like it was bleeding from some wound too deep to close. It glared through the gloom like a lighthouse in hell.

"I gave them everything. I let them burn my name and carve a new one from the bones of the girl I used to be. I let the Dark Side devour me. I let it own me."

Her voice was louder now. Still hushed, still solemn—but growing.

"And what do I get?"

She took a step forward.

"Not respect. Not trust. Not even fear."

Another step.

"They treat me like a child. Like a problem."

Another. The floor creaked beneath her heel.

"They strike me down and call it wisdom. They strip me of dignity and call it teaching. They dare to lecture me about propriety while they smirk behind their masks, while they sneer in the robes of Lords and call it decorum!"

Her voice was shaking now. Barely keeping pace with the avalanche beneath it.

"And Lirka—Lirka Ka—sits on a throne she's too stupid to understand, as if brutality were leadership and grunting through metal is vision. And Arcanix… Arcanix plays the wise mother while she delights in watching me grovel. Malum, that preening failure in silk, speaks of snakes as if he is not made of venom."

Her voice deepened. Louder now. Something beneath it beginning to scream.

"And Ivalyn—damned Ivalyn—has the gall to speak of consent."

The hallway lights flickered.

"I have earned more in months than they have in centuries! I have sacrificed more than they remember. And still I am made the lesson!"

She stepped past Rae now, slow as death. The glow from her eye lit the floor as her voice lowered into something heavy. Something close. Her hate, once raging, had become focused.

"They saw what I could become. That's why they humiliate me. That's why they keep me caged like a beast beneath their boots. Because they know."

Her hand touched the wall. And the wall shuddered.

"They know I'm real."

Another pulse. This one came from her, and the Darklight felt it. Lights rippled in their housings. The durasteel bulkheads vibrated softly, the way a blade hums when drawn from the scabbard.

She turned to Rae, finally, fully. And what looked back was not a woman.

It was retribution.

"They'll wish they struck me down for good."

There was no mercy in her anymore. No softness. No need to be understood.

Only purpose.

"Because the day I rise—and I will rise, Rae—this Empire will learn what it means to shame a sovereign."

She stepped close, until their armor nearly touched, until her voice fell into something colder. Lower. Infinite.

"I will tear down every throne they've ever built. I will write my name in fire across the halls of Jutrand, and when they beg to kneel before me… I will make them crawl. I will chain them and break them so fully the only words that will ever escape their little pathetic lips will be 'Forgive me, Empress.'."

A pause.

Then, softly—just above a whisper—

"They could've had a queen."

Her eye blazed, full and open now, casting long shadows behind them.

"Now they'll get a tyrant."

She turned again—slower this time. No longer storming. Rising. Her cape whispered behind her, the filaments glinting like razors, the crimson bleeding through the black like the first signs of dawn—or war.

And when she left, she left behind not a girl, not a servant, not a commander.

But one who now fully had embraced her role as Tyrant.

 

[CT-312]

//: Quinn Varanin Darth Strosius Lúthien Tinúviel i | OPEN //:
//: Ryoone //:
//: Attire //:
//: Weapons: IQA-11, LO-18D ASSAULT RIFLE, & Vibroblade Knife//:
//: Objective III - Reclamation //:​

The blade still hovered faintly in her mind. The image of it nearly grazing the Princess’s throat. CT-312’s eyes winced at the thought. ‘I failed to identify.’ That could have been it. One error. One slip… ‘I failed in my protocol…’ One permanent consequence.

Her breathing slowed as the Princess’s words filtered through the modulator, her voice as warm and casual as ever. CT-312 began to note from her previous missions with her, the Princess was always like this. Graceful in a situation that would end most Troopers lives. It was… confusing.

Her presence shifted the atmosphere entirely.

CT-312’s brows furrowed beneath the helmet. The Princess was different from all the Sith Lords she’s encountered. Deep down CT-312 could tell the Princess was sharper. Calculated. You can never tell what she was thinking behind those eyes… that smile. Soft. Familiar. Disarming in the most inconvenient ways.

The Camo Scout wasn’t prepared for the touch. Not in the field. Not here. Not ever. CT-312 barely had time to react before the Princess’s hands were on her. Grasping and pulling her to her feet. The contact sent a jolt throughout. Not a spike of fear, nor a reflex to fight. But something instinctive—sharp and silent across her nerves. Unfamiliar. CT-312’s body tensed on reflex. Muscles tightening under the plating as she allowed herself to be pulled up.

This… wasn’t part of the mission. And yet. There CT-312 was… standing still as the Princess dusted her armor off. This is definitely not protocol. She didn’t know what to do. Didn’t know how to respond. CT-312 blinked slowly, slightly confused. 'Lothcat?' Tilting her helmet just a fraction as she tried to process it. She wasn’t a loth cat. Was she? She didn’t feel particularly feline nor understanding what was silly. Her brow furrowed a fraction. Not understanding the comparison.

That’s an order.

Snapped CT-312 back to reality. Her posture stiffened, instincts kicking back in. She nodded sharply. Pushing aside the stray thoughts. Refocusing. “Yes Princess.”

Ruining another Sith Lord’s day

That caught the Scout’s attention. That was new. A small, rare sound slipped out of CT-312’s helmet. A short exhale that might’ve been a chuckle. One only she and whoever was close could hear. It was intriguing. The Princess went on, “Transmitting…” That word clicked in CT-312’s mind. ‘Vox-Pylons.’ she felt her tactical awareness snap back into place.

‘There was no briefing for this.’ She noted internally. But the Princess’s presence here had already rewritten the mission parameters.

She allowed herself a brief glance toward her HUD — MB-1782 and CC-1441 were already observing, likely unsettled at the interaction but holding position. They would follow her lead. As they always had. For whatever reason.

You did almost kill me... You owe me this favor, 312.

CT-312 paused. Guilt. Slightly shifting in weight. ‘I’m starting to owe her a lot…’ Nodding again. “Yes m—Princess.” Almost said ma’am. Catching herself. “The Vox-Pylons.” Her hand reached back, unholstering her sniper rifle. “We observed shuttles diverting toward their locations.” The safety clicked on. Sliding the magazine out. “They aren’t reinforcing the front. No sign of aid.” A round was extracted from the chamber. “Pattern indicates tampering. Intent unknown.”

“Pardon the touch.” CT-312 said lowly, voice quieter than she meant. Almost self-conscious. Stepping closer, guiding the Princess’s hands over the rifle. Showing how to hold it steady. Handing the rifle to the Princess felt slightly different this time. This time, CT-312 was aware. Too aware. She hated that she was. Awareness made her hesitate and hesitation gets you killed. It made her angry at herself. ‘It’s nothing’ she told herself. It was all just in head. “Look through the scope, along the ridge line. You’ll see movement. Shuttles and the Pylons.”

She took a few steps back from the Princess. Hands falling back to her sides, boots grinding slightly against the volcanic rock beneath them. Movement at the edge of her HUD, IFF tags pinged green. CC-1441 and MB-1782. Her squad. CT-312 gave a subtle nod to both Troopers.

—

From behind, CC-1441 exhaled. Trying to break the pressure that was suffocating the moment. “Well… if anyone could pull off nearly slicing up royalty and live to talk about it…”

CC-1441 let out a low whistle. “Didn’t think we’d have royalty out here with us grunts.” A dry chuckle undercut his words. “You’re full of surprises, 312.”

MB-1782 as usual was more reserved. Words hit harder than intended. “You nearly cut her throat.” Blunt. Unflinching. True. CT-312 stiffened at the reminder. Her stomach tightened. ‘If my blade moved even a fraction sooner…’ Mistakes. Even after years of operations, training, experience — mistakes still happened. This one would have cost more than any mission failure.

MB-1782 tried to ease the tension “She’s still standing.” CC-1441 nudged MB-1782 lightly with his elbow. “I figure it’d take more than a knife to drop someone that high up the ladder. So I say you’re still battling a good average, 312.” MB-1782 simply grunted.

Outwardly, CT-312’s voice remained calm, carefully neutral. “Slight change of mission.” Her visor tilted toward the ridgeline. “We’re ruining someone’s day.”

CC-1441 gave a low laugh. “Now that’s a mission update I can get behind.” MB-1782 only gave a curt nod. Stepping forward as the bottom of his shield hit the ground with a thud in approval.