Faction Acolyte Boot Camp [TSC]

[Anet Raine]

Anet decided to move from the crowd as soon as one of the instructors decided to pick on Kirie. It wasn't personal, but the scholar would rather not stand out amongst her or the lost padawan.

So instead, she shuffled towards Ghruna , Irina Jesart , and Reev Marr ...

She looked down at her lightsaber before speaking up. "Do either of you know what is going on?"

Anet was wary of admitting her ignorance of the situation. When the acolytes were summoned out here, she was told very little at all, just to arrive and be prepared for training. But the distant sound of blaster shots and explosions made her deeply nervous. Were they expected to participate in that?!

She scooted closer to the lanky Maldrani.

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Tag(s): Open

A glance caught his attention, being the gaze of an Echani, and leaving him no choice but to meet her stare, a brow arching on its own. Not a challenge, not a smirk, just a wordless what the feth? It wasn't the pit he was puzzled about now; it was Jorryn Fordyce . Why was she here, and why was she looking at him like that?

The moment stretched but a second longer, before a faint buzz against his wrist drew his focus away. Tilting his head slightly, he caught the familiar voice through an earpiece.

<<"Her survival is paramount.">>

Orders came sooner than his heart foresaw, and something curled behind a clenched jaw. Drawing in a slow breath, he responded.

<<Understood. She’s in my sight.>>

The target was easy; he already knew her. Kirie . He had just been looking in that direction, but that recognition only made the order weigh heavier on his conscience.

The stagnant air shattered with the crack of a firearm, luring him in just in time to witness a projectile slam mercilessly into her. Lysander’s stomach plummeted in empathy, and the timing of it all mocked him, only seconds after the command had been issued. Unbeknownst to him, he already leaned forward, the thud of his boot sinking into muck below, as the sting of failure cracked his facade, revealing the tension ripping through him

A hand lingered just above the gracefully curved hilt, the weapon aching to be released. An alien warmth pressed against his skin, another signature, as two figures bent to aid her. With Varin Mortifer present as well, and knowing his old roommate as he did, a third was surely nearby.

It too dawned on him how dangerously at peace he had been, lulled by a false comfort.

"Leave her be," Arris interjected low and cold.

Finally, Lysander set himself in motion. Black tunic and leggings, worn boots scuffed from too many paths, nothing about him stood out.. seemingly no different than what he wore in a dozen other places these days.

Perhaps, this was only orientation by fire, a proving ground, a place to rattle nerves before they were driven elsewhere. One lesson had already been made plain: no coddling. And too many already faltered in that regard, himself among them.

But orders were orders; for now, he kept his distance, a shadow at the edge.

A gold blade cut against the gloom. He offered only a small nod in passing to Reev Marr , a wordless acknowledgment of discipline both seen and noted. Beyond, he marked Anet Raine 's presence, and the Maldrani Ghruna who had already challenged him once.

At length, his gaze flicked to Darth Amaymon , a colossus of stone, his silence louder than any command.

Stillness had been his armor; now it slipped away, leaving only the stray of one who could no longer stand still.

​

 

[Varin Mortifer]

He watched her turn around. Satisfied with the advice he gave her in hopes she’d use it for her survival. That was up to her. The next split second would show why she needed to take this lesson to heart.

A loud crack as a projectile flew her way, Varin watched it travel and then slam right into her chest. Watched her double over in pain then saw something familiar come out of her. While others pitied her Varin saw her fight, her drive to survive and he smirked, not from the cruelty, but to the fact that she was a fighter in the end. His gaze shot to Lysander as he saw him move and Varin’s brow furrowed.

An interesting reaction from him. Was she important? Why? He looked dead at him, a look in his eyes as if to say remain calm. These things needed to play out for the betterment of everybody. Another acolyte came by to check on her, offering to heal. Varin glared down at her.

“You are drawing unwanted attention to yourselves. Pain is the perfect teacher. Let her feel. Let it fuel. I suggest you learn this too.”

He spoke to both acolytes before him as Arris made her way over yelling at the acolytes and apprentices.

He looked at Arris as she dropped the shell, the hollow sound clinking into the air, his brow furrowed as he watched. Then the heavy feeling of dark side energy flooded over him. So much power radiating the air felt heavier. He could feel the rage coming from it, and it was enticing.

Varin shook his head to clear his thoughts before pressing further into the emotion.

Kirie | Lysander von Ascania | Neriah Calven | Arris Windrun | Darth Amaymon​

 

[Lirka Ka]

TAGS - Neriah Calven Reev Marr Ghruna Anet Raine Varin Mortifer Lysander von Ascania Calyx Sundrift Arris Windrun Kasir Dorran Darth Amaymon Darth Anathemous Jorryn Fordyce

Ah. Now things had gotten interesting. The first blow had been struck like the ringing of the metaphorical gong. Many of the gathered Lords and Ladies (and whatever horrid thing one might describe Lirka Ka as) had stood as silent sentinels - save for Arris Windrun whom Lirka had quickly gleamed to expect some modicum of rowdiness from. Though admittedly…she’d have just used a real slug. It was good to let a little blood. Even if she wasn’t entirely certain Kirie would do all too well being shot.

She noticed whatever hungry hate Kasir Dorran threw her way - she was used to it, really. Her enemies were a list sprawling through decades, most of them she paid little heed. In moments of weakness, perhaps the endless judging eyes of phantoms and specters grated at her rather…fragile…sanity. But not today. It was more motivating than anything.

With clawed hands still clasped, Lirka finally spoke. There was an icy metallic chill to her words, unnaturally amplified by the helmet that hid the wretched face beneath.

“Wisdom already flows this day, it would seem. It is true, do not fear pain. Do not balk in its wake - pain is a gift, a reminder of life. A reminder of the endless struggle of our existence. In time - those of you who survive - will learn to welcome pain as if it were an old lover.”

She began to pace back and forth now, that predator’s gait she so often had. She did not address any of the acolytes directly - not yet at least. They’d know who they were. The mother’s guiding hand did not discriminate, it merely needed to show these miserable whelps where the Dark Path began.

“Look around you now, fledglings! Around you are your brothers, your sisters. All of you, links in the same cosmic chain…”

Her tone changed, a malice entered her words. Venomous and sharp.

“…but they are not your friends. They may be, for a time, your allies. But do not let the weakness of kindness into your heart. If you are to be Sith, you will take a knife between your kin’s ribs when the time comes!”

Lirka Ka was a believer. A zealot. She had formed religion and faith around her own madness, the perspective of the universe shaped by her time on distant Rhand and trapped away in Wild Space. Some Sith measured power in tangible things, warships, lightsabers, lightning bolts, and mystic powers. Lirka did too, at times. But she knew the ultimate power: belief.

“But what does it mean to be Sith, hm? What has driven you lot to huddle in this desolate place, with plundered weapons in hand? Those bold enough to lay your belief bare, speak!”

And of course, Lirka coveted belief like some sort of twisted collector. Chronicling all that she could for the many murderous faces she had met during her travels.

 

[Emissary of Strife]

​

There was much commotion within the camp, and so soon after all had arrived. Acolytes sized each other up, some postured, and one stood out enough to be harassed by an instructor. Good. The life of a Sith was a cruel thing, but it was cruelty born of necessity, not a mindless thing for wanton violence and other psychotic acts. The stock would be honed, the weak culled, and those left chiseled down until true Sith stood in their place.

"Enough!" Interrupted a robed figure who appeared along the Pit's edge and looked down upon them, face obscured by shadow.

It was subtle, but the winds began to change direction, now gently blowing past the figure and towards the looming battlefield.

"Beyond the Pit is Akacron, a fortress city constructed by one of Xim's generals in the years following his demise. As you can hear..."

His words paused so they might discern the occasional crack of blaster fire.

"... There are soldiers within, fighting for their survival... fighting the first wave of acolytes. You will join them, but be warned, only one group will be allowed to return to the academy - to the last life."

Perhaps his manner of speech was unclear, but the air chilled as if his words were an omen. He spoke of a simple brutality: The acolytes before him were one group, and those already within Akacron were a second group. Only one group would be allowed to return.

"You have until nightfall... Fail to kill the other group, and all of you will be exterminated by orbital fire."

For the Covenant, acolytes weren't merely students. They were soldiers, too. Cohesion mattered just as much as competition if they were expected to charge headlong into battle with the Jedi and those nations sustained by their sick teachings.

The robed figure gestured towards Lirka Ka , who had spoken a moment earlier.

"This one speaks true," and echoed the words. "If you are to be Sith, you must indeed wear your motives as if they are your very soul!

"Enter Akacron - find the other acolytes - and do what must be done. As for the prisoners, their fate matters not, only yours."

An icy mist consumed the horizon upon which the robed figure stood, removing his presence from their perceptions. When the mist cleared, a path was revealed that hadn't been there before. A trench that led to the ruined city. To their test. If the acolytes meant to be students at the academy, they would have to earn it.

"Oh..." The echoes of his final words. "The most promising among you will be rewarded with a relic of Xim's fallen empire."

To whet their appetites, if the promise of blood did not.

 

[Kirie]

Location: Desevro
Acolytes: Neriah Calven | Reev Marr | Ghruna | Anet Raine | Varin Mortifer | Lysander von Ascania
Instructors: Arris Windrun | Lirka Ka | Kasir Dorran | Darth Amaymon
Observers: Darth Anathemous | Jorryn Fordyce

Kirie did her best to straighten up, struggling for breath, pain constricting the edge of her vision like her head and chest were being squeezed in a vice. She was aware of her flurry of activity around her. Of concern and alarm, but her eyes were fixed on the blonde Sith. A name swam out of the pained haze. Arris. Arris Windrun. She would remember it. Whether she could do anything about the cruel master or not, she would remember.

She did her best to hold her head level, meeting the eyes of Jorryn Fordyce , who looked for a moment like she would intervene. She prayed she wouldn't. All that would bring was worse trouble.

"Let me help. I-I...I can heal."

She heard dull and distorted words beside her and became aware of Neriah Calven at her elbow. She blinked at the girl uncomprehendingly. She was the one who had been staring at her with loathing, so why now was she-?

"Leave her be."

Arris again. Kirie dragged her gaze back to her, trying to keep her face neutral, managing to struggle to a standing position beside Neriah. Her mind was filled with images of being shot again for whatever unknowable infraction she had committed. Kirie could only guess it was for being too passive, for undermining whatever sick lesson was being taught in this death pit. Unfortunately, that also meant she knew what to do.

Kirie's eyes slid to Neriah, her offer for assistance answered by Arris instead of Kirie. The choice had been made for her. Kirie gave her a pained looked and mouthed a silent apology.

'Sorry.'

Then she pushed Neriah, hard. Hard enough to send the unsuspecting girl into the dirt. She could not be the weakest, could not be the victim again. She glanced around, at the man who had offered advice, Varin Mortifer , trying to guide her again, and Lysander von Ascania , who paced about the pit, looking spooked.

Without her really meaning it to, Kirie's adopted saber ignited, casting a flickering light that accentuated the hollows of her eyes and the sharp angles of her jaw. She moved it around slowly, to force everyone away from her, to give her room to catch her breath.

Lirka Ka 's lecture echoed in Kirie's ears, and she heeded the beast's warning. These were not her friends, not now, and certainly not after they heard what was coming, for surely there was something coming.

"Enter Akacron - find the other acolytes - and do what must be done. As for the prisoners, their fate matters not, only yours."

There it was, the promise of destruction, and of reward. There was nobody to trust now, not after they had been given tacit permission to murder each other, not with the fear of a culling hanging over their heads. She understood it now, that if she resisted, she would be punished, and eventually they would either break her, or they would kill her.

May as well get on with it.

Kirie, for her part, did not even wait until the dread figure in the robes had finished speaking. She merely turned away from the instructors and started walking towards the sloping tunnel leading out of the pit and towards the ruined city, saber still ignited, its tip trailing just above the ground. The pain of the shot had mostly faded now, replaced by a sort of numb, apathetic lightness. She wondered if Neriah would get up and try to put her back in her place. She doubted it.

Hopeless. She thought to herself. It's all hopeless.

 

[Neriah Calven]

Tag: Arris Windrun Kasir Dorran Lirka Ka Darth Amaymon Reev Marr Calyx Sundrift Varin Mortifer Irina Jesart Kirie

What was the point? What was the point in her existing? In surviving? No-one cared for her. That was what was going in her mind. Neriah hadn't even seen it coming. Nor had she seen the silent apology. She had been too focused on trying to heal the Acolyte who had been harmed. Too busy focusing on the...filth.

If she's filth, what does that make you?
Trash. A waste of air. A Fool.
...Well. Now you're even making yourself feel sorry for you.
I don't care.

They were all filth. Scum. Neriah wasn't like them. But that was because she was worse. She had tried to help. No-one helped filth to live. To grow. No. Instead they crushed it. They cleaned it from the Galaxy. It's what she should have done. Flashes of what she should have done came to her mind as she laid on the ground. She should have taken her lightsaber and scrubbed that filth from the Galaxy whilst she was in pain. Whilst she was vulnerable. Now Neriah was the laughing stock. The joke. There was nothing good about being kind. Her master had been wrong.

Shame. Regret. Anger. It was all flooding through her mind. Yet at the same time, her face was void of...anything. There was no point showing any of her emotions. Far better to keep it in. It was only a matter of time before she was more than likely wiped off the face of the Galaxy herself. Cleaned from the Universe. It was far better without a fool like herself.

One of the Instructors, nor that Neriah cared to remember their names, had said that if they were to be Sith, they'd have to put a knife between their "kin's" ribs. That wasn't what she would do.

Why? Because you aren't one of them...or because you'd rather press a Lightsaber against their heart?

That thought didn't receive an answer. The only response to it was Neriah's fingers tightly clutching her lightsaber. The anger only surging through her as the Thief pushed on forward. Pushed on with the stolen Lightsaber. The one she had tainted. Corrupted already. It would be used to kill. Used in anger. Everything her master hadn't wanted for Neriah herself.

Why care about what an old man wanted? If you cared about what he thought, you'd have gotten help. Why help a Sith when you didn't help him?

Once again, there was no answer. Instead she made her way off towards the trench, dragging her feet along. It reminded her of her venture into the Academy. When she had isolated herself from the group. When she had begged not to be left alone. But in reality, that's all she was. A scared girl who was alone. Who had no-one in her corner. Not even herself. She could only pray that some soldier or Acolyte would put her out of her misery when she wasn't looking.

Giving up, are we? I thought better of you.
No you didn't. You're me. I've never had a single good opinion about myself.
...Well. You're right there.

Her thoughts had lost all emotion to them. All tone. Her gaze just dull and focused ahead of herself. Whatever happened...happened.

​

 

[Ghruna]

GHRUNA

She looked down at her lightsaber before speaking up. "Do either of you know what is going on?"

Ghruna looked across the small group. Anet Raine Irina Jesart Reev Marr

"I don't," she said plainly. When they had last been tested they had been set against one another.

Would these be formidable allies for the task ahead? She wondered to herself.

"Enter Akacron - find the other acolytes - and do what must be done. As for the prisoners, their fate matters not, only yours."

In its own way it was a simple task. Enter the war zone and eliminate the other acolytes. Ghruna glanced around at the group, committing every face to memory.

It would not concern her to leave any of them behind, but it would be a waste of time.

"We have the element of surprise," she said to Anet. "The other acolytes are already fighting. We are behind them."

She spoke of murdering the other trainees without any feeling.

 

[Darth Anathemous]

Wearing: Armor
Tag: Arris Windrun Kirie

Anathemous stopped dead in her tracks.

It wasn't a premonition this time, just a feeling of... wrongness.

* C R A C K *

She turned in an instant, heart thumping against metal ribs. even if her unnatural senses had alerted sooner there was no time to prevent the scene before her; Kirie on the ground, Arris Windrun standing over her, a smoking gun all she needed to sear this moment in her cracking psyche for all time.

'Get up...' she silently begged, 'Get the fuck up...'

Breath released through her mask in tight plumes when the handmaiden not only stood, but fought back.

It was strange, seeing her old friend with such pain and rage inside her now that Kaila had seen only once before. Perhaps the sangnir's blood had not yet abandoned her? She would need this spite to survive, but seeing the girl she considered so amiable, so pure, like this?

Anathemous' gaze shot towards Arris, claws biting into her own fist.

She heard the message loud and clear,




But this wasn't over.

​

 

[Reev Marr]

Wearing: Acolyte Armor + Vambraces
Tag: Kasir Dorran Anet Raine Lysander von Ascania Varin Mortifer

Reev had attracted attention.

Good or bad? she did not know.

The phantom's words crept up the back of her neck like frost, cryptic symbolism of spilling the chalice, a void sharing it's blasphemous contents with herself. Perhaps he spoke of blood, of which there will be plenty, but she did not understand.

Shoulders stiff and breath held, she dared let her masked visage meet his own, and offered a slow nod.

A bow perhaps, or merely acknowledgement.




* C R A C K *


The girl crossed one arm over her chest, activating her wrist-shield pointed towards the sound of gunfire as she'd been taught and drilled time after time. To her surprise however, it was one of the instructors who'd shot down an acolyte, even more surprising that the girl got back up so soon.

"Do either of you know what is going on?"

"Hm." she thought on it, easing her posture some.

"Mother always said Sith could smell your fear. Maybe she fears the most?"

Just a quick, clinical assessment presented with indifference.

The nameless girl was more concerned with learning from the example Arris tried to make of the brunette.

Still, seeing Kirie lead the pack forward was too an example to follow, prompting her to quickly tap Anet Raine 's shoulder with the back of her hand, then jut her chin at the bruised acolyte.

"Well, best to follow before she makes us look like cowards."

She gestured for Anet, Lysander von Ascania and Varin Mortifer as well since they were closest, to join.

It wasn't long before she'd fallen in line, lightsaber held close to her shoulder,

Marching on, into Akacron...

​

 

[Varin Mortifer]

Theme​

He watched as the acolyte Kirie shoved the one trying to help her, watched her reach for her lightsaber. At that moment his hand was already on his, ready for her in case she tried to strike at him. He would hate to waste such possible potential. Instead she ignited the saber, holding it up to cause others to give her space. A voice had boomed across the field after Lirka’s speech.

The sounds of battle just ahead were prominent, the fog itself seemed to lift to guide the way forward. Kirie was the first to walk the path. It was admirable, being knocked down like that, attacking back and then leading the group that she seemed to shy away from. She was already learning.

Then there was Neriah. The acolyte that came to her aid. He eyed the one that was cast aside.He offered no hand to help her up. Instead he watched for a moment as she too picked herself up. He could see the war waged within her. It showed in her eyes, her walk, even her voice. She did not seem accustomed to Sith ways. His brow furrowed as she walked.

It was then that Reev motioned for Varin to follow. The smoldering cloud around his body flowed like cloth as he made his way over. His boots sank slightly into the cold mud. Each passing step left a small sizzle beneath each footfall. Slowly he reached over his back drawing his mace and resting it over his shoulder.

His eyes drifted over the other acolytes and stopped at Lysander. His footfalls stopped for a moment as he gave him a smirk.

“It’s good to see you again, battle brother. Hopefully your travels have fared you well.”

He clasped his free hand on Lysander’s shoulder as a gesture of greeting.

“By the way, I heard season four of The Rule of Two Hearts was in production. Hopefully its not as much filler as season three.”

He chuckled lightly as he looked at the other acolytes with him.

“May Bogan watch after you all.”

He picked back up his rosary gently running his thumb over the bead as he made his way towards the trench with any who would join him.

Lysander von Ascania | Reev Marr | Anet Raine | Calyx Sundrift | Kirie | Neriah Calven
Tags open
​

 

[Anet Raine]

Anet nearly jumped up a little when Reev Marr tapped her on the shoulder. She looked between her, Lysander, and Varin, then back to Ghruna , who - as far as the historian was concerned - seemed to have the better idea of it. Looking down at her wrapped hands, which still throbbed with pain, Anet felt in no position to fight even if she knew how.

The element of surprise? That seemed a better bet than most... especially with the threat of orbital fire hanging over their heads.

"We have the element of surprise," she said to Anet. "The other acolytes are already fighting. We are behind them."

"I agree," she finally replied.

Fighter or not, she had written off any remorse for the other acolytes. Their deaths would mean her survival, and that was paramount.

She looked down at the lightsaber in her hand again. Even if her fingers and knuckles struggled to hold it without stinging, she understood its lethality to be quite simple. Flesh - even metal - would rend.

Her steps followed close behind as the acolytes moved towards the battlefield, but most of all, Anet was surprised by Kirie . The woman whom she met on the way to the library, whom she knew to be more timid than even herself.

Fuck. I need to outdo even you now?!

It made her a touch angry. At least she didn't stand out like Neriah Calven had, however. The half-pantoran tossed a skeptical glare at the stolen padawan.

Lysander von Ascania Varin Mortifer

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Tag(s): Varin Mortifer Reev Marr Anet Raine Arris Windrun Lirka Ka Kirie Calyx Sundrift Neriah Calven Jorryn Fordyce Darth Amaymon

The mud that clung to his boots was like chains, dragging at every step.

Lysander had defied orders more times than he could count, bent them, reshaped them into something that suited his own vision. But this time was different, for he was forced to turn his back and walk away. In doing so, he was reminded of the sliver of humanity yet to be purged from his soul.

Of all the different looks he received in the camp, it was his former roommate and co-apprentice's that cut the sharpest.

His gaze shot to Lysander as he saw him move and Varin’s brow furrowed.

“You are drawing unwanted attention to yourselves. Pain is the perfect teacher. Let her feel. Let it fuel. I suggest you learn this too.”

There was something different about him since their time on Korriban.. a harder, colder edge. Perhaps the darkness had begun to taint his being, born of the revelations that eventually caught up with all who walked this path. Meanwhile, Lysander stumbled in the shadows of his own lessons, ones he should have mastered long ago. A muscle twitched beneath the clenched jaw, refusing to grant the satisfaction of revealing the wound. A hand lingered near the hilt for another stride or so, the body betraying what the mind simply could not bury.

Lirka Ka 's venomous sermon rolled over him next with the promise of knives between ribs, and he was certain that there were those here who would not be able to resist such temptation.

A faint exhale slipped sharply through his nose, almost a scoff.

After the robed figure's words, the trench yawned before them.

In the midst of Anet Raine , Ghruna , Calyx Sundrift , and Reev Marr now, he stood tall; when Varin's hand settled on his shoulder, he did not so much as flinch. One corner of his mouth twitched into a smile.

"Good to see you as well, brother.”

Drawing in another breath and letting it slip free, amusement ghosted across his visage at the reminder, that even here, they still found room for a little holodrama chatter. "Filler stacked on filler. They cut the massacre on Dromund Kaas, but left in the council's dinner scene."

Strands of blonde fell across his brow as he shook his head. "Totally registered as Jedi propaganda."

Before abandoning the camp, that cage of eyes and ears, his gaze slipped once more over his shoulder to Kirie . There was no warmth in it, only recognition, a door left ajar.

Jorryn Fordyce and Neriah Calven were written into the moment too.

Leverage would return once the real test began.

Or so he believed.

Smoke rose from the ruins. The pit was behind them now; Akacron waited.

Step by step, they were funneled closer to the city. Broken walls rose like jagged teeth. The sound of blaster fire was becoming clearer. It felt like they were slowly descending into something ready to swallow them whole. When Lysander reached outward with his attuned senses, the city answered immediately. Scrapes of boots, hunger from hidden eyes, the Force was already bleeding with hostility.

They were not alone.

He'd noted earlier how two of them already possessed their own lightsabers. It wasn't out of arrogance, though. Maybe it was finally time to shoulder some responsibility in life and see whose mask slipped first. If he felt it, he was certain the others did too.

"Something out there already has its eyes on us. Keep the line loose. I don't feel like dying in someone else's shadow."

​

 

[Lyssara Thrynn]

Students, apprentices, sorcerers, enchanters there's really a bit of everything around here. My gaze turns toward the Sith apprentices, those who are just beginning to make their own way. I cross my arms, puzzled, eyes fixed on the screen of my monitor. Then I scan them one by one through the Force. Some show more talent than others, and as for a few of them, I truly wonder what they're doing here. It almost makes me smile.

I could have identified with them last year, but now it's been some time since I graduated from the Korriban Academy. I should probably start thinking about finding myself an apprentice, a successor.

What better way to choose than by observing them directly on the field? I whistle a monotonous tune, soft and warm, yet with something unsettling in it a cold warmth that's my own secret. They're all clashing, engaged in training duels. Their lightsabers likely don't even belong to them for the most part. I can't help but wonder what the instructors have planned for them afterward.

I could have been one of them, but I preferred to stay back. I was only invited as an observer, so I'm in the stands or rather, not exactly in the stands. I'm in the technical area behind the arena, overseeing the event. In case of serious injury, I can step in to heal or rescue them if needed. If I'm not going to be useful otherwise, I might as well enjoy the show. It's better for them that I'm not participating in the fight.

I yawn, covering my mouth with my hand as I continue watching. I grab my flying broom and rise to explore the battlefield from above, keeping clear of the crossfire. From here, I can see what's happening without risking a stray shot. My attention falls on Neriah Calven I watch her and decide to follow from a distance. She intrigues me.

tag : open

 

[Arris Windrun]

What the hell?!

The whole situation smelled rotten. It didn't take a genius to tell that Lysander von Ascania was the likely recipient of the Sith Lord's orders, but his reception of them raised more questions than it provided answers. Then there was Jorryn Fordyce , who appeared even more alarmed, as far as the cyborg could tell.

At least Varin Mortifer seemed to be in his right mind for today. Her job wasn't a total loss; then, she could still salvage this.

Most surprisingly... The way Kirie stood back up, rejected the help, and held her ground like a cornered animal. Arris may not have been the most traditional of Sith - far from it - but she could not deny the taste of the woman's fear and defiance.

Not so fragile anymore, are we? She mused with the smallest hint of a smirk.

Her eyes glanced back down to Neriah Calven , who radiated with her own energy... It was different, but biting, and...

All of that hate and fear fled up her throat like a gasp, and it left her fragile and empty.

Nope! Not the time for me to think about that. Arris shook her head. Chaos, it was hard for her to stay quiet with all these thoughts bouncing around what felt like an empty chamber in place of her brain.

Anathemous' gaze shot towards Arris, claws biting into her own fist.

Arris felt the static of her gaze and flicked some side eye right back. It might've escalated into something more, until the robed and shadowy figure appeared and gave a little speech right after Lirka's. The pair of them made for quite a palette cleanser with their philosophizing, and the cyborg took the opportunity to find her way towards the back of the crowd.

By then, the Acolytes began to move out, and eventually they arrived at the ruins; the sound of a heated battle was close. She took a vantage point up high, atop a shattered tower barely held together by durasteel wire. From her perch, she could see it... The other acolytes knew they were coming and had prepared an ambush.

Ghruna Reev Marr

"Well, let's get the party started then, yeah?" She muttered to herself.

Lirka Ka Darth Amaymon Lyssara Thrynn

 

[Jorryn Fordyce]

// Lady Jorryn Fordyce //
// Objective // Witness //
// Focus // // Arris Windrun // Kasir Dorran // Lirka Ka // Darth Amaymon // Neriah Calven // Kirie // Lysander von Ascania // Anet Raine // Reev Marr // Calyx Sundrift // Varin Mortifer // Irina Jesart // Darth Anathemous //

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The former Lord Inquisitor's pace ceased in its step, still distant from the congress of acolytes. Like the others, she watched the situation carefully unfold with a curious eye. As the blonde made a misstep towards her fellow handmaiden, it didn't take a genius to understand the connection.

She wouldn't blame Arris for the lesson, not too harshly at least. Despite the blow, there was no wanton cruelty continued past the point that warranted intervention.

Jorryn was here to observe, simple as that. So long as the acolytes weren't pigs led to a slaughter, the instructors held reign over how best to educate this group. Whether those lessons were brought violently or not mattered little.

Both of the other blonde Sith present were more to blame for their attempt at intervening on Kirie's behalf than Arris had been, after all. Mental notes jot themselves down for those present before watching Kirie push away the attempt at help.

For all those concerned for the girl's ability, it was clear she herself cared little for the help. A cold smirk crossed the lips of the Echani, not just in a small pride in her fellow's decision to go this test alone, but in the buffet of emotions that radiated from the one left in the dirt. The cold presence surrounding the girl only seeped into her skin as she fell into the dirt, and it was delicious.

She would be one to observe, to see how she managed to manipulate these emotions to her benefit, or at least if she would die a beautiful death.

Probably not, Jorryn thought.

The rest of the acolytes made their way forward, though not before the blonde one once again managed to catch the ire of the Sith lady. The spoilers hit her ears, which only reddened in annoyance to the words. The rage was kept silent this time, though almost matching the fury watching Kirie's assault had.

She had been busy with her research and hadn't caught the latest season of the Rule of Two Hearts, and here two acolytes casually discussed major plot points.

A silent prayer asked for Lysander and Varin to meet a bitter end.

The Echani moved in turn with the rest of the congregation, following silently to watch the concerto begin. Amber eyes watched as the cyborg that dismissed them made her way to a vantage point to gain a view on all the acolytes, presumably connected to a network via an implant. It seemed best to follow her, if not to at least ensure that her fellow handmaiden was unharassed during the rest of this event.

"I had hoped the Sith moved past petty abuse to educate, but I suppose they hadn't."

The words sought to provoke. To glean some insight that might reveal the woman's plan to educate the Sithlings in their ways.No matter what answer was received, there was no intention to intervene on the Echani's behalf.

"I also suppose we know who to keep an eye on for further intervention in this little outgoing of yours." Eyes cast backwards in the direction of Lysander and his retinue, unsure the specific reason she desired to witness violence brought upon the man. "As well as his benefactor..."

There was no need to name the woman, and hopefully no reason to prevent her further actions. Though it could prove to be a fun little game preventing the Sith's interference, Jorryn supposed.

 

[Arris Windrun]

Arris glanced at her newfound companion.

"I had hoped the Sith moved past petty abuse to educate, but I suppose they hadn't."

"You are mistaken if you think I know what the Sith do or don't."

Arris was truly an odd one out. Her standing in the Galactic Kaggath, victory on Kattada, and stature among Mercy and Hasuras Na-Gerra had elevated her far above her station. She was a woman built on reckless power and not much else. Street smarts, maybe, but did they matter much here? She wasn't so sure - especially now that the air of Sith politics was slowly enveloping her.

In truth, her strongest connections to the Sith were what she learned from Tilon Quill about their history and the Jedi; then there was Darth Adekos , who accepted the cyborg under his tutelage, teaching her in the ways of technopathy and mechu-deru.

She lit a smoke between metal fingers and gave it a long, contemplative drag before offering it to Jorryn. The latter's words on Lysander and Kaila raised a question.

"Tell me what I don't know about them."

Which was everything.

 

[Neriah Calven]

Tag: Arris Windrun Kasir Dorran Lirka Ka Darth Amaymon Reev Marr Calyx Sundrift Varin Mortifer Irina Jesart Kirie

They...were seriously talking about some daft show...in a life or death scenario. Neriah couldn't understand these people...No, this filth. The Sith weren't people. They were abominations. Filth.

You know that includ-
I know it includes me.
...Feisty.

Her frustrations and anger was just building inside, whilst she killed any external expression. Dragging her feet along the floor, her arms loosely dangling at her side. The girl's gaze glaring at every other Acolyte she could spot. There was a part of her that wanted to visualise them all dying in this moment. Either through failure of killing the other Acolytes, or from the other Acolytes taking them out. She hoped it'd be slow. Starting with the Thief first of all.

Okay. Now you're seriously starting to scare me. Well...You.
It doesn't matter.
What happened to wanting to follow the old man's wi-
He's Dead. They'll be dead. I'll be dead. We all die.

Even the mental dialogue in her own mind was growing colder by the moment. The voices slowly having the roles reversed, as her conscious thoughts started to descend into aggression. Violence. Whilst her subconscious was trying to speak out against the ideas. To bring some warmth back into the girl. Unfortunately, she had came to the decision that warmth was unnecessary in a cold and cruel Galaxy such as this. Kindness was only met with more cruelty. Cruelty was met with pain. Pain was met with death. Only death could end the pain and cruelty.

"Something out there already has its eyes on us. Keep the line loose. I don't feel like dying in someone else's shadow."

So be it. At least hopefully it'll be fast.
...You know if you die, so do I, right?
You're my own thoughts. Of course you would.
Well, I don't want to die.

Neriah continued to scowl to herself, her gaze flickering between all of the Acolytes, hoping that one of them would be attacked first. The satisfaction it would give her...Yet unfortunately for her, it was obvious that she was the weak link. The "runt" of the litter. Even by the way she walked a small distance away from the group, like a diseased animal being kept away from the pack. So it'd come as no surprise when a blaster bolt screeched through the sky.

Cruelty was cold. Death was cold. But pain? Pain was burning hot. An inferno of pain erupted from Neriah as she collapsed down to the ground, once again being where she believed she belonged. In the dirt and filth. Her glasses thrown from her face and shattering on impact. She had hoped it would have been quick. That the pain and suffering would have been snuffed out like a candle. Yet once again, the Galaxy was imparting another harsh lesson on her.

In the end, even Hope can be broken.

​

 

[Kirie]

Location: Desevro
Acolytes: Neriah Calven | Reev Marr | Ghruna | Anet Raine | R raine | Varin Mortifer | Lysander von Ascania
Instructors: Arris Windrun | Lirka Ka | Kasir Dorran | Darth Amaymon
Observers: Darth Anathemous | Jorryn Fordyce | Lyssara Thrynn

The movements of the Acolytes defied Kirie's attempts to ignore them. As they tracked their way in a loose gaggle into the ruined city, the outskirts of which were half-buried in fine red dirt and sand, Kirie caught snippets of their conversations, like Lysander and Varin trying to keep things light, and others discussing her. That was not a feeling Kirie enjoyed, even if she secretly relished in the way some of the Sith had looked at her with a sort of newfound respect when she had stalked away.

The wound-up, angry feeling from the confrontation was fading now though, and nervousness welled up to take its place. The wind had turned, making the sounds of battle seem even closer, maybe just over the next rise, and it carried on it the scent of freshly spilled blood, singed flesh and burning plasteel.

And she was leading the pack. That meant it should have been her that fell first when they finally crested the last of the foothills before the city unwound before them like a great bowl. It should have been her that the stalwart, terrified soldiers fired on first. A fitting punishment for whatever cruel thing she was becoming.

But it wasn't her.

The "runt" of the litter. Even by the way she walked a small distance away from the group, like a diseased animal being kept away from the pack. So it'd come as no surprise when a blaster bolt screeched through the sky.

Leave her. She wanted to say. Leave her. She was never going to help us anyway. If Kirie had really been as ruthless as she had made herself appear at the camp, then maybe she would have. As it was, she felt herself stop midstride, and she was turning, turning back, and hurrying towards the girl's fallen form at a jog.

Kirie's eyes scanned over the injured Acolyte's body. A single shot to the torso. The skin was terribly burned and the shot had burrowed deep into the flesh. The problem was what lay behind the burn though. If the girl was lucky, it had missed the vital organs. She could survive a gutshot for a few hours, maybe more if Kirie could try some of her newly-learned healing. If it had hit anything important... Well, the girl wouldn't need to worry about it much longer.

'There will be more of them' Kirie gestured hurriedly. 'Help me get her into cover.' Kirie wasn't sure why she was helping. Maybe because she wanted to control something, because she felt bad for earlier, or just because she had finally woken up to the fact that the girl was a person. A kidnapped slave like she had been. Kirie didn't examine her motivations any further. She moved determinedly, like a droid.

Kirie tapped a finger on the girl's cheekbone insistently until she turned to look at her.

'We're going to drag you. It's going to hurt a lot. I need you to try and stay awake for me, okay?'

Hurriedly, Kirie got behind the injured girl and hooked an arm under her shoulder, waiting for another Acolyte to help her drag the girl. Blaster fire whizzed above their heads, exposed as they were on the bare hilltop between two buildings. Down below, she saw dark figures running towards them.

'Soldiers are coming! Defend us!'

 

[Varin Mortifer]

He followed the mud trail near the back with the acolytes, a couple following behind him. But for Varin it was his job to watch the pack. The way he was raised, yes it was Sith in nature, but each member of The Arsenal was integral and important. The Arsenal represented the squad of soldiers in a given company. But the young apprentice didn’t see it. Not until it was too late. At no point would he intervene in corporal punishment, but if a member of the squad was taken down they would not leave a man behind.

His gaze shot towards Neriah and Kirie after the screeching sound of blaster fire streaked the wind. Varin quickly hurried over behind her igniting his saber with a loud eruption, the sound carrying over the blasterfire that soon began to rain towards them, the white blade shun brightly, then proceeded to bleed a maroon red, as he stood in front of them to hold the line deflecting blaster fire as they began to move Neriah. Certainly this was not how most Sith would act, and though Varin was Sith he held onto honor like it was a lifeline. He would move with them in defense as the drug Neriah through the mud.

“Theres a small area of cover not too far away.”

His head motioned for a dilapidated building not too far away from them.

“Get her moving, I will maintain cover and pull their attention.”

He let out a growl as he heard other soldiers coming up from behind and he gripped his mace in the other hand. The end of the mace began to glow almost as if it heated itself up before engulfing the flanged end in flames.

A feast! A feast comes our way boy! Let me feed! Let me loose!

Flames began to lick over Varin's shoulder, replacing the shroud of smoke that enveloped him.

Not yet Ignati. Let them get closer.

The blaster fire started to become more frequent towards Varin’s direction as he maintained his defense. That was when he saw some more poor souls running towards their direction with crude rudimentary weapons. Shovels, tools, even broken parts of other items fastened into barely effective blades. Varin readied his mace for the first few that approached.

As they crested the hil he took a wide swing with his mace and a sickening crunch echoed not long afterwards as his mace found purchase in the ribs of the closest attacker. Varin’s heart began to thrum in his chest like a violent drum.

Not yet…

The yearning for bloodlust and combat was heavily intoxicating. Like a pool of water stretching before a man dying of thirst. This is where Varin thrived. A blaster bolt flashed towards Varin and his saber deflected it into the next nearby soldier, sending sparks out like a spray. He began to walk forward giving the other Acolytes space as the other soldiers began to close in, beneath his clothes the runic brands on his skin began to glow like coals. A wave of blood and battle lust began to emanate from Varin as he fought.

Kirie | Neriah Calven | Open​