Dominion After Taxes | SO Dominion of Empty Hex

[Darth Morta]

Objective I: The Tithe of Worlds
Tags: Objective One - Lirka Ka // Darth Virelia // Festerruman Sachiel // Taeli Raaf // Allyson Locke // Kaila Irons // CT-312 // Jacen Breska // Darth Meritum // Adean Castor

​

Darth Morta, along with the rest of the Order, had been requested to provide for the Third Legion and had answered the call as required. Morta arrived ahead of her contribution. The Umbra Operis being much better maintained than the leaky, creaky transports she had been able to scrape together to hold her tithe for its journey.

The Darklight was an impressive vessel, and Morta looked forward to the day she had the wealth and influence to claim such a vessel as her own. But for now, she'd have to keep her head down, get lost in the crowd and not draw attention before she had the strength to back it up. This was going to be one of the rare moments she stuck her neck out and hoped it wouldn't get her head cut off.

Making a quiet entrance to the chamber everyone had gathered in, a pair of her Crimson Oath tailing her, Darth Morta kept her senses primed for violence and betrayal, something she expected every time there was a gathering of Sith. The fact that no knife, metaphorical or literal, had been slipped in her side yet was just proof that she'd been successful in keeping herself out of the eye of potential rivals.

Originally planning to wait until near the end to make her contribution, Morta kept quiet, but got sick quickly. Reaching into a pouch on her belt, she pulled out two objects: a cheap disposable holo projector and a datapad.

"Krayiss II may lack the heavy industry to support the powerful weapons, or the knowledge to prepare unique artifacts that may be expected by this tithe. But, we do have ourselves to offer." Darth Morta said as she used the force to float the projector to the front of the room.

"I offer one million troops of my militia to form a backbone for the legion to build on." Morta said, dropping the projector to the floor and turning it on to let a series of holograms flash through the air.

Morta knew that this would put a strain on her resources for now, but it would be to her advantage as well. As the troops were rotated home to be replaced with fresh faces, they could be diverted to form veteran units or put into training cadres, raising the quality of her soldiers in the long term.

 

[Apollyon The Betrayer]

Tag: Lirka Ka Darth Meritum Darth Virelia Darth Morta Festerruman Sachiel Taeli Raaf CT-312 Jacen Breska Adean Castor

Clap... clap... clap... came a sound from within the crowd.

Footsteps next, and finally the golden glow of an iconic T-visor. One could forgive the uninitiated for assuming the red-clad figure to be Mandalorian. There were few alive now who remembered the Shadow Crusade fought in Carnifex's name, which destroyed Mand'alor the Reclaimer such that Moridinae remained abandoned until so recently.

Hers was a forgotten name.

And she had returned from death to rectify this.

The supercommando moved with slow, deliberate steps as she emerged from the crowd, throwing predatory glances over her shoulder with each soul she passed. It was not until she stood a few paces from Lirka Ka that her helmed gaze appeared to settle momentarily. Not on the impressive blade Ka boasted, not at her foreboding armor, but right where the once-sephi's eyes should have been.

Never had she looked upon the Slavemaster General in person, the tyrant of Concordia in that glorious prelude to her own butchery. But of the two relics who'd outlived the old empire, Lirka's legend was the most widely known, an icon of the great cruelty that was the Kainate.

The old Moff was just as impressive as she imagined.

She gave Ka a nod with an almost teasing tilt, then turned to Darth Meritum .

"Death Watch." she announced, her cool but leathery voice carrying quite far.

Armored figures looked up upon hearing their name, spread sparsely among the crowd in shadowed corners where most went unnoticed. Some whispered among themselves in disbelief, but a few veterans among them recognized that voice.

Now they understood the gravity of their summons.

"I pledge Death Watch."

"For the duration of this campaign, at least." she playfully shrugged her shoulders.

That was the tricky part. Death Watch didn't need to answer these summons, for she did not control a world to pay tithes as the many sith lords and governors around her did. In the end, their loyalty was to Darth Carnifex in all things, and yet here she was.

It allowed her some... flexibility.

"All we ask is to be put in the vanguard, and that whoever leads this legion prove themselves worthy of our time."

"Maybe then we'll stick around."

​

 

[Darth Meritum]

Many watched. Lirka Ka offered herself. Meritum stood and nodded with appreciation, but internally he wondered if Empyrean had truly predicted this. Perhaps his read on people was as good as they said, or perhaps he was being benefitted by the Force? Then the question became why?​

​

"Your blade is appreciated, Lirka.", Meritum said with a smile.​

​

"There are great things awaiting you."​

​

Then came Darth Morta .​

​

"A million soldiers is a powerful boon. The Emperor thanks you."​

​

Last, the Death watch.​

​

" Apollyon The Betrayer was it? A pleasure. The Emperor will no doubt appreciate your welcome addition to the Legion."​

​

"Any others?"​

 

[Ashin Cardé Varanin]

OBJECTIVE ONE

Having arrived early on the Lanvarok Whisper and spent hours walking the crystalline halls with Jaccath, her huge Massassi pilot/tattooist, Ashin came in just as Darth Meritum summarized the pledges.

With Jaccath at her back, Ashin walked through the gathering to a natural point of visibility before the throne. She'd worn the mask of Anger and her black armourweave robes, and she leaned on a knobbled black cane of immense antiquity.

The only souls present she bothered to acknowledge were a few former students of the Pomojema; her daughter Quinn Varanin ; the positively quintessential Taeli Raaf ; and Kaila Irons , who'd assisted her with a bloody, high-stakes ritual not long ago. And Meritum, of course. He held the bulk of her focus.

Her private goal was simple. Her homeworld, Varunda IX, was in a compromising and undesirable position now, held by the Alliance adjacent to the Blackwall. The more options the Sith had for richer targets in new directions, the better.

"Captain Ashin Varanin," she introduced herself. "This century finds me with no fleets or armies or years of service to pledge. However."

She switched her cane to her left hand and held up a single datacard.

"Once upon a time, my wife and I and our allies led the Lords of the Fringe. We ruled from today's northern Sith border to Lwhekk itself, and all the way to the region now occupied by the collision of the Rishi Maze.

"The stars have shifted greatly, even the Blood Trail has destabilized — but over the past months, I have sent a stock of hyperspatial probes along every old Fringe route, every bolthole secret, every half-forgotten supply line, and updated all that remains viable. Chiss, Ebruchi, Lugubraa, Rhandite, Rakata, Croke, Ssi-Ruuk, Mnggal-Mnggal, ten thousand worlds..."

She floated the card toward Meritum.

"...to the Third, I give the keys to the Unknown Regions. All of it."

 

[Quinn Varanin]

//: Kaila Irons //:
//: Attire //:

As Kaila whispered about the criminal acts one of their own had committed against the troopers who were only doing their job - Quinn turned her head. She didn't want to see what had happened, knowing it would only make her want to act. As much as she knew other Sith thought the guards and the troopers were below them - she had developed a soft spot for one. If she looked, the offender would have found his head on a pike and his entrails scattered as a warning.

The dark thought made her queasy, mostly because she only saw 312 being the one savagely treated. Unlike Sith, Quinn struggled to find reason with the unprovoked and unnecessary violence.

Each soul in the Empire was precious to her.

She remained quiet until they entered the monster's den. She could feel each of their desires to gain favor over the other. They wanted the Emperor to look at them, to be the ones blessed by his touch, yet in the same breath, they wished for his demise so they could take his seat.

It was an interesting mix of emotions, but Quinn did her best not to pay it much attention. She was here to support and show her face as an Imperial Princess.

Some waved, and she responded. Others tried to gain her attention, but with Kaila by her side, it was easy to ward them off.

The Princess stepped into the room, her arm gently linked with her lover's. The space seemed to shift around her, not by intention, but as if the Force instinctively carved a path for its own. She absently brushed a strand of ashen hair from her eyes, laughter spilling softly as a familiar voice called out a playful compliment.

Quinn didn't notice the way people turned to look. She had never needed to command a room; it simply responded to her presence.

The threads of the Force tugged gently at her senses, connecting distant moments. Her hazel gaze lifted, almost without thought, and caught Serina's across the room for a second.

And she smiled. Unassuming and utterly radiant.

As quickly as she had found Serina in a crowd, her attention was pulled, and the gathering returned to its bustling sounds. A wide smile crossed her face as she realized that the troopers ( Jacen Breska ) Kaila had been addressing was CT-312 ! Having found herself fond of the small trooper, Quinn greeted the woman with a soft smile and a wave.

"312! It's so good to see you again; I'm quite upset, though," Her lips twisted into a frown, "I requested you a few days ago. Your bosses said that you were unavailable for the dates that I wanted. I find that unacceptable, and you should fix it." As she spoke, a small chime echoed from under her cloak.

"Excuse me, I'm sorry," She smiled softly at the small group and turned away. On the device was a message from someone she would have never guessed.

Her eyes wandered the crowd, she caught that Darth Virelia had already looked a different way, allowing Quinn to sneak up on the blonde.

Looking at Kaila, she smiled, "I'm going to go talk to someone, I'll be back."

Quinn leaned up and quickly kissed the woman on the cheek as she turned and headed toward Serina. Pausing, though, she looked at Kayden Lind , who had followed her and Kaila in. "Behave and mind, uh." Quinn piano-tapped her lips with her fingers, "Mind Kaila's orders." She was going to use the woman's Darth name but figured they were friendly enough not to have to worry about something so small.

She moved effortlessly through the growing crowd, weaving through clusters of nobles and officers as they gathered before the empty throne. The Voice of the Emperor spoke above them all, his words commanding attention, but Quinn had her focus elsewhere.

It amused her, noticing now that Serina and Kaila stood at the same height. Funny how little details slipped by until they suddenly mattered.

As she drew closer, Serina would catch the unmistakable scent trailing behind her: roses from the Echani Princess's garden, kissed with the golden sweetness of honey. Then came the subtle and fleeting soft brush of fingertips along her upper arm.

When Serina turned, she was met with a familiar smile that was gentle and inviting, with lips painted their signature red. And Quinn's voice followed, smooth and warm, just like the perfume she wore.

"It's good to see you, Serina," she whispered between them. Her gaze lingered just a moment. "I've missed your presence."

 

[Darth Virelia]

"Silken lies and rigged promises."

Tags - OBJECTIVE ONE: Lirka Ka Quinn Varanin Kaila Irons Taeli Raaf Darth Meritum Festerruman Sachiel CT-312 Jacen Breska Adean Castor Darth Morta Ashin Cardé Varanin Apollyon The Betrayer



She had been mid-pour.

The Governor of Mala had just said something clever again—something about the absurdity of another Sith's outfit looking like it had lost a duel to a drapery droid—but Serina didn't quite catch the punchline. Her hand paused with the bottle tilted at a delicate angle, the wine resting just at the rim of her glass. It didn't spill. It just... waited. Like her.

She felt it before she saw it.

A subtle current in the room's pressure, a note too soft to register in the ear but unmistakable to the skin. The Force didn't crash or surge or flare. It parted. Like velvet.

And with it, the scent: roses—but not the kind bred for ceremony or placed in the lobbies of dignitaries. No, these were wild, living things. Quinn's roses. The same scent that clung to Serina's memory like dew on morning silk. Layered now with something sweet—honey, maybe. A note that hadn't been there that first night on Jutrand, when the garden lanterns glowed against the white stone and their laughter had fallen like secrets into the vines. But it belonged now.

She turned. Slowly. Too slowly.

And then she was there.

Quinn Varanin.

The girl from the rose garden. The sovereign force Serina could never quite hold—and never quite let go.

When their eyes met, Serina was already unraveling.

Not with fear. Not even with grief. But with something far more dangerous: memory.

Quinn's fingers had only brushed her arm, a fleeting thing, barely a whisper. But it set her nerves alight as though the entire galaxy had just run a hand down her spine. Serina stood completely still, caught in the undertow of a thousand moments she had forbidden herself to revisit. And yet—

And yet.

Her lips parted. She meant to say something sharp. Something cool. Something befitting the Governor of Polis Massa, the Heir of Malak.

Instead, her voice failed her.

"Q–Quinn," she stammered, eyes impossibly bright, the name falling from her mouth like a half-prayer. "I..."

She blinked, swallowed, tried again. Her pulse was thunder. She knew people were watching. She didn't care. The whole room could have caught fire and she would not have looked away from those hazel eyes.

"I didn't know you'd be here," she said softly, breathlessly, and then immediately regretted how small she sounded.

She straightened—not in pride, but in panic. Her hands twitched at her sides, one grasping her goblet as if it might ground her, the other clenched around the edge of the table with the softness of someone trying not to reach out.

"You look... wonderful. You always..." Her voice faltered again. "You always do."

It was pathetic. She was pathetic.

Serina turned her head slightly, as if to compose herself, but the air had shifted. All the power she'd held in this room, all the angles and plots and whispers—gone, eclipsed by a single girl and the memory of a first kiss among falling petals. She could still feel the texture of Quinn's cheek beneath her fingertips, could still hear the breathless little sound she made when their lips met for the first time, cautious and trembling and perfect.

She closed her eyes for the briefest moment. And when she opened them, she was just a girl again.

"I missed you," Serina whispered.

She didn't mean to say it aloud.

But the words were already out, bare and trembling like a secret escaping the chest it was never meant to leave. They didn't have the bite of manipulation. No rhythm, no seduction, no mask.

Just truth.

Just ache.

And then she looked at Quinn again. Really looked.

And for a moment—just one—Serina Calis was no longer the self perceived most terrifying woman in the room.

She was just lost in the old feeling that had been buried for so long.

Damn, helpless, solemn love for something she would never have.

Hopelessly. Irretrievably.

She didn't know what to do with her hands. Her thoughts. Her heart.

So she stood there, holding a half-filled glass of wine, trying not to cry in front of an audience that would never understand why she suddenly felt like a girl in a garden again, with the stars above, and the scent of roses making promises the galaxy would never keep.

 

[Taeli Raaf]

Objective I - The Tithe of Worlds
Subobjective - The Disturbance
Festerruman Sachiel Quinn Varanin Darth Virelia Darth Meritum Lirka Ka Ashin Cardé Varanin Kaila Irons CT-312 Adean Castor Allyson Locke Madelyn Lowe Jacen Breska
​

As she approached, she saw one of the... guest's retinue wail a bit and the guards around him form up as a wall. While most would be too far away to hear what might pass between them, techniques she had learned long ago from the Theran meant she picked up every word in her vicinity. She could pick out the minute whispers all around, the conversation between her apprentice and the young governor that had recently caught her attention in the wrong ways. She could hear the first tithes being offered for the Third, the call from the Voice to bring forth offers.

But the bulk of her attention currently was upon the out of place retinue and the man waving them down as she approached.

"There will be little in the manner of pleasantries or forgiveness," she replied, her voice quiet but carrying clearly to them. Every syllable was laced with irritation. "Do they not teach how to comport oneself in diplomatic occasions on the backwater world you call home, or do you and your retinue prefer to make a scene wherever you go and insult your hosts with attacking their soldiers?"

Her eyes would harden further into gemstones as she looked at the creature that had caused the incident in the first place. The man leading the retinue, was clearly trying to learn how use alchemy and the Force to shape life. She suspected whatever the creature was had been subjected to some experiments, honored to be warped by his Master. Crude, inelegant, amateurish. Unimaginative. The man was going for horror over anything of actual value.

"That one," she would say, pointing to the creature floating by his master with the multiple eyes, "forfeited his life by striking the minds of the guards on duty here. "Tuti Nindz . There would be no overt display of her spell, just a quick surge in the dark side along her finger towards the creature. There wouldn't be anything dramatic, such as the creature exploding or dropping dead. Her spell was a simple one, a command to the creature's very molecules. One moment it was there, floating, and the next... not even dust would remain. Even the memory it had even existed would begin to fade in short order.

"Welcome to the Sith, Warmaster Sachiel," she would finally say. "I am Darth Arcanix. Consider this the only warning for you and all of your... remaining retinue to behave while you are here."

As far as first impression went... well she hoped, as she turned on her heel and flowed away back into the crowd, that second impressions would improve. He had already made a bad one on one Dark Councilor after all.

 

[CT-312]

//: Jacen Breska Adean Castor ] | OPEN //:
//: Weapons: LO-18D ASSAULT RIFLE, & Vibroblade Knife//:
//: Attire //:
//: The Darklight //:
//: Objective I: The Tithe of Worlds //:

The Scout Trooper noticed the small pause. Probably not entirely comfortable with the title ‘Lord’. The shift in tone, a mask maybe. But then again wasn’t everyone in this room wearing a mask in some way?

"At ease, CT-312," she said with her full chest, posture, which had already been quite straight to fit the expectation of a Zambrano, tightened a hair more. "I was merely curious as to your status this evening, considering your armor's unique coloration."

At the command, CT-312 dropped the salute. Not lazily, but precisely. Easing back into a more relaxed stance, her eyes remained sharp beneath the visor. 'At ease' never meant 'off-guard'. “Merely on guard duty.” CT-312 said evenly. “Granted it still wouldn’t explain the camouflage... I suppose.” The opulent room wasn’t exactly a jungle, far from it. The marble and gold instead of dirt and leaves. The Scout knew the armor clashed. Maybe that was the point? She didn’t question the logic behind the assignment. There was always a reason, even if it wasn’t clear. Her job wasn’t to look good in marble halls.

Her visor tilted slightly toward the Lord, a brow raised beneath the helmet. “Sometimes the best way to see who’s watching… is to stand out.” There was a glint of dry amusement in CT-312’s voice.

The Lord mentioned that not all her peers were so quick to embrace unnecessary brutality to TK-710. ‘Nice to know.’ the Scout supposed. Her knowledge of the Empire and the personnel were quite limited, still learning a bit more every mission.

A pulling feeling drew CT-312’s attention to the front entrance. Taking note that Quinn Varanin had entered the room with Kaila Irons , slowly heading in their direction. She kept silent as they were approached. Offering a nod back in acknowledgement. CT-312 watched as TK-710 would respect the Lords in here with a deep bow. Smart. But the constant saluting and bowing was already starting to wear on the Camo-clad Trooper. Noting, formal etiquette in the Empire felt more like a performance than necessity.

Mention of any mistreatment of the Second Legion personnel didn’t faze CT-312. Talk like that didn’t move her. She’s heard it before. Warnings, promises, threats. People say things like that all the time. They didn’t mean anything. Soldiers were tools. Used. Reassigned. Discarded. How long until she was quietly sent somewhere else or thrown aside too? Loyalty didn’t guarantee permanence. It never had. CT-312 kept quiet. That was until she was greeted by the Princess.

"312! It's so good to see you again; I'm quite upset, though," Her lips twisted into a frown, "I requested you a few days ago. Your bosses said that you were unavailable for the dates that I wanted. I find that unacceptable, and you should fix it."

Taking the Princess’s frustration in stride, CT-312 just shifted her weight slightly, arms slacked. Her helmet angled in a quiet nod of acknowledgment. “Apologies, Princess.” The Scout was, admittedly, a little surprised. Of all the people in this meeting room, CT-312 hadn’t expected the Princess to speak to her. Let alone with such familiarity. They’ve only had three brief encounters. The derelict robot ship, the festival date she was ordered to chaperone, and that time the Princess dragged her into hell to fight a literal demon. It was hardly the foundation for casual conversations. They barely even spoke.

“Deployment schedules aren’t mine to dictate.” A short pause. CT-312’s voice remained flat, but there was a tinge of quiet irony. “You’re not the only mission I’ve been assigned… though I’m told you tend to leave the strongest impression.”

CT-312 watched as the Princess excused herself. Wondering if she too was going to participate in the Tithe and what she might offer.

"Who gives what...and why?"

“Why indeed...” Everyone has their own agendas. It will be interesting to see how this all played out. “Will you be taking part?” CT-312 leaned back casually against the wall. Her posture relaxed, yet her surveillance of the room never wavered. "What do you make of the 'just rewards'?"

A familiar silhouette moved in the meeting room. Tracking Lirka Ka movements as she marched forward. Voice booming with conviction. Offering herself like a banner. A symbol. CT-312 respected warriors. Her jaw tightened. Taking a step forward, not to interrupt nor to draw attention, but to show respect. Indifferent to the sideways glances she drew. The Camo Scout’s hand came to her chest with a fist slammed where the heart was. A warrior’s salute.

CT-312 eased back into her spot against the wall. Observing as soon more began to speak up. Offering whatever assets. Millions of soldiers, Mandalorians, and keys to the unknown regions. At this rate, it seems like the Third legion will be capable of reclaiming the Firefist section of the galaxy.

Her eyes shifted back to the front door as another slight commotion happened. It was the Dark Councilor addressing the guest from earlier. A creature who seemed to accompany the guest, just disappeared. As if it never existed. Was CT-312 seeing things correctly? CT-312 watched as the Dark Councilor made her way back into the meeting hall, rejoining in the matters at hand.

Spoiler: Nearby|Tags

Lirka Ka Darth Virelia Taeli Raaf Allyson Locke Madelyn Lowe Festerruman Sachiel Ashin Cardé Varanin Apollyon The Betrayer Darth Morta

 

[Kaila Irons]

TITHE OF WORLDS​

Wearing: New armor + Mask
Tag: Quinn Varanin Jacen Breska Adean Castor CT-312 Darth Virelia Taeli Raaf Lirka Ka Darth Meritum Festerruman Sachiel Madelyn Lowe Kayden Lind

"Stupid, smart, the bar for each seems fickle here." she sighed with Jacen.

"These are loyal citizens of the empire, not-"

It was subtle, but her impassioned words caused the Darth's eyes to flare more golden than before.

Nevertheless she held her tongue and glanced away.

Perhaps she was a hypocrite, Kaila thought, in that she knew what she was capable of if pushed by indignities. But that extended to other Sith equally as soldiers, and always with reason.

It was not until Quinn Varanin spoke up that her deliberately restrained features softened in the ways that only she could make them.

Looking at Kaila, she smiled, "I'm going to go talk to someone, I'll be back."

"I will try to survive your absence."

she feigned a wistful sigh, as though a flower that would wilt without the radiant sun that her princess.

Kaila could not hold back her smile even as the pair separated from one another's arms.

The sensation of those painted lips upon her freckled cheek was not new by any means, no matter if they became so rose tinted as to suggest otherwise, but she was not yet accustomed to feeling that closeness in public. The Princess was finally allowing their affections to be seen of late, and now Kaila wondered if she could finally wear her promise ring without hiding it beneath a glove. For a moment, all she could think about were the romantic places she and Quinn could visit now that they needn't hide.

It was a damn good feeling.

Of course she was reminded soon of where she was here and now, watching closely as the princess approached Darth Virelia , who she'd viewed with great suspicion ever since faking her death during their... friendship.

Her head would slowly tilt at the young governor's rapt expression.

Quinn however had her trust in all things, even if she made mental note to keep a closer eye on Calis.

Lirka Ka was next to steal her attention, and that of CT-312 it seemed. The Kainite's voice caused her grip to tighten upon her helm, and jaw to become sore with the phantom pain of Lirka's skull to her teeth.

Nothing however prepared her for Darth Meritum to identify the peculiar Kainites after.

"Apollyon The Betrayer was it? A pleasure. The Emperor will no doubt appreciate your welcome addition to the Legion."

The former Mandalorian's eyes went wide with something dangerously close to horror.

"...excuse me a moment..."

She quickly veered off from the others, doing her best to regain her composure. She circled the edge of the crowd to give both Kainites a wide berth, then stepped forward to present her tithe.

She'd need to do this quickly before her mask slipped again.

"Any others?"

"Echnos has brought it's tribute." she called in a deliberately cool tone as if nothing happened.

"Volunteers from the Expeditionary Corps. Masters of trench warfare and fortification, experienced in chemical attacks."

Only a few units, nothing compared to Darth Morta 's million souls, but they'd get the job done. Thanks to Taeli Raaf however, there were more Expeditionaries to spare than could have been.

"I also offer to dedicate a small portion of our industry to manufacturing a limited quantity of armor or weapons."

"If anyone wishes to see what Echnosian tech can achieve,"

She gestured towards the guards, Exo-muscles flexing and whirring along her arm.

"You are welcome to inquire about the Second Legion's armor, or arm wrestle yours truly." she dared.

There was a short pause as she considered whether or not to push her agenda here and now, or wait until a more private audience could be pursued. But of course hesitation may risk blowing her chance here and now...

"I do have terms, however." she finally added.

"Seatos, in the Denab system. A relatively empty world, but with some history to it."

"I am not asking to be handed a planet however, I am well aware that all things in the order must be earned by force of arms. What I do ask is for the reconquest of that world to be reserved for the Second Legion, or rather for My warband within the legion."

"Considering how important Echnosian industry is to the men and women of the Second, I believe we deserve that much."

Anathemous concluded, chin high, arms folded behind her back.

It was time to test some boundaries.

​

 

[Kayden Lind]

TITHE OF WORLDS


//: The Darklight :\\

//: Attire :\\

//: Heritage (Saber) :\\

( Quinn Varanin Kaila Irons Lirka Ka OPEN )

​

Kayden had little interest in politics. He supposed however, that while he dwelt among the Sith, they would quickly become an acquired taste.

As he strolled in behind Quinn, he was taken aback by the sheer amount of importance in one room. Nobility of all sorts, generals, political figureheads, and Sith Lords he had heard of only in legends milled about, engaged in conversation and debate amongst themselves.

It was overwhelming. The air was thickly laced with the Dark Side of the Force, and it weighed heavily upon him. He had Heritage clipped to his belt, and instinctively kept his hand resting on it, a sign of his unease.

He was grateful to be entering with Quinn. Her presence as she entered the room commanded attention and respect, and by proxy he felt some of it bleed over to him as well, even just standing beside her.

Quinn took the arm of a blonde freckled woman he didn't recognize, as they continued to make their way through the crowds. He made sure to keep a healthy distance behind, while still not losing sight of them.

As they pulled to a halt, Quinn declared she had someone to see, before kissing the blonde woman on the cheek. Kayden raised his eyebrows, a bit surprised.

"Mind Kaila's orders."

Kayden nodded his agreeance, but a boyish smile fell across his face as he rested his gaze on Kaila.

"Very well Master, and when must I ask, were you going to tell me about her?"
He turned to see Quinn's reaction, but she was already gone. Off to see to some business he assumed.

Kayden turned to Kaila with a soft, polite smile.


"Kayden Lind. It's nice to meet you."


On his masters orders he continued to follow Kaila around. The two passed by a familiar face. Lirka Ka , he recognized from their messy slave recapturing mission on Korriban. He gave a nod of greeting as they passed by.

He stood apart from Kaila as she offered her tribute to the Third Legion. The Expeditionary Corps she was providing were quite a valuable asset, if they lived up to the attributes she was ascribing to them.

As she showcased the Exo-muscles, his eyes lit up with intrigue. What an interesting person, this Kaila.

Kayden stood with his arms crossed, surveying the room for the return of Quinn or any other figures he might recognized.

 

[Adean Castor]

TAG: CT-312 | Jacen Breska | Kaila Irons | Quinn Varanin | Open
NEARBY: Many
OBJECTIVE: The Tithe of Worlds
APPAREL: X

Teeth shifted a fraction, aiming to capture a piece of the acolyte's lip as TK-710 spoke before deciding against interrupting her carefully cultivated mask. She didn't deserve praise for not being a monster; no one did. And yet, those were words that she could not say within these halls, not without having her own loyalties questioned. "It's quite literally the least anyone can do. Or not do, in this case."

More moments passed as Brassius observed others come and go from their little party, most paying special heed to the two troopers. She had half expected some form of acknowledgement from Quinn Varanin , being a student of Jutrand's academy, and found herself uncertain if she should be pleased or disappointed to have gone unacknowledged.

Not too long ago, Darth Virelia had referred to her as a 'little ghost'. More and more, the title proved its accuracy.

“Will you be taking part?” CT-312 leaned back casually against the wall. Her posture relaxed, yet her surveillance of the room never wavered. "What do you make of the 'just rewards'?"

Adean tilted her head in consideration. There was little in her name she could offer, not really. Though the weight of her borrowed name or the organization she operated under might've suggested otherwise. As tempting as it could be to watch either the Zambrano family or the Tiss'kar scramble to abide by whatever offering she made on such a public scale... No, she didn't want to deal with the consequences of such.

But it would mean being seen.

The whispered thought drifted into her ears like a breeze, whisked away by a brief shake of her head, perhaps a tad stronger than a mere shudder. "I find no use in these public displays," she offered instead. "To offer so boldly implies their offering is a mere drop in the bucket of what they have. Or rather, that's what they want everyone else to think. That's the real reward here, I believe. We're all scrambling for the right person's attention."

As CT-312 pushed off the wall to give her salute, Adean's gaze drifted to the other attendees, from Darth Morta 's lofty tithe of troops to Ashin Cardé Varanin 's lone datacard, which seemed to contain worlds of secrets, if her speech was to be believed. For a moment, Adean had to wonder if she'd been too cynical in her judgment, albeit only for a moment.

It was Taeli Raaf who next claimed Brassius' attention, though for reasons they didn't quite catch. A pulse of dark side energy normally slid under the unrefined acolyte's radar, especially when surrounded by everyone else's gravity pull. Perhaps it was serendipity that called her attention, perhaps something more. Nevertheless, she scanned over the entourage that the Dark Councillor faced and found...nothing had changed.

No, that wasn't right. Something had to have happened. And yet, the only thing that struck Adean was the beginnings of a headache as she lingered on the matter. Yet she had to know.

"Speaking of, I think introductions may be in order," she mused, gathering herself and perhaps an inkling of courage. She turned to both CT-312 and Jacen Breska . "You're both welcome to come with, if you wish. Lets you continue your patrols in the process."

 

[Festerruman Sachiel]

"No crowns.
No gods.
No chains.
Only the great coil that writhes beneath all things.
Apophis, you who need no name,
Slither through the bones of the world and shake it free."​

Objective 1
Tags: Quinn Varanin Jacen Breska Adean Castor CT-312 Darth Virelia Taeli Raaf Lirka Ka Darth Meritum Festerruman Sachiel Madelyn Lowe Kayden Lind

He made little reaction to his servant suddenly unsubscribing from existence.

What need was there?

The complete obliteration of his compatriot wasn't exactly preferred, but ultimately unsurprising. For all of Pandemonium's massive armies and industries, the followers of Revelation were but a mote of dust to the grand might of the Sith Empire. They could not afford to be openly rebellious.

Yet.

Bloody lessons had to be learned, after all, no matter how painful. It seemed for all the delicious wickedness these debauched individuals around him called themselves Sith prided themselves in openly displaying, they had their limits. This display made that line in the sand clear. These hedonists would rather keep their cruelty concealed. Subtle so as not to upset their fine palettes or perfectly balanced humours.

Slaves to darkness, scared of what going into that dark corner might bring out in them...

Still, even if he now knew where the goal posts were being set, Sachiel would have to play it more carefully from now on.

As he watched the so-called Darth Arcanix leave, he felt Her.

Even on their foreign ship, trapped in the cold void of space, parsecs away from home, he could feel her warm embrace around the nape of his neck. So lovingly squeezing out the life from his gullet. He rasped and choked as he took in Apophis' love before it disappointingly slipped away back in the aether. He stared into empty air for a moment like a spice addict coming off a high.

It was such a tragedy to be the only one who could feel Her grace.

No matter.

If his plans came to fruition today, then the entire Galaxy would enjoy the same warmth he did.

It was now his time to step forward.

“The world of Pandemonium offers a large vanguard of our best divisions towards the cause,” he began to speak, hands outstretched like a preacher. Behind him, a massive holographic list of formations pledged began to scroll. However, it would be best to liken it to a bastion wall of text. “They will be able to form the tip of the upcoming campaign's spear with their substantial arsenal of city-killer cannons, heavy walkers, tank-murderers, and mobile command centers. My soldiers do not understand the concept of exhaustion or doubt. Fear of death is a foreign concept to them, for through their martyrdom, they are granted paradise."

Sachiel's hidden eyes glanced briefly at Kaila Irons and Darth Morta . The fact that he was attempting to overshadow their pledges was barely hidden. He would dictate the course of this campaign.

Unlike Morta, he would experience little strain from fielding this many troops. The holy world of Pandemonium - its entire population being thrown into the constantly churning war machine - could easily shoulder the burden with room to spare.

The holographic image behind him shifted, displaying a trio of creatures that more resembled mounds of churning meat than anything else.

"These are those whom Apophis has blessed by warping their flesh in Her image. She has given Her grace to the sick, given benediction to those whose righteous fury can no longer be contained, and chosen her champions. Their appetites for the blood of the impure grow tenfold every hour. To satiate them, I have authorized my beast masters to prepare them for tribute towards the Emperor so that they may feast upon his enemies."

His voice rose like a crescendo. The retinue-horde of babbling freaks behind him appeared to be in a state of religious ecstasy, barely able to hold in the urge to fall to their knees and sing hymns with their blasphemous tongues.

"This will only be the beginning. More divisions will be raised and dedicated to this crusade. More beasts will be birthed from our womb-pits. More forbidden arsenal vaults will be opened. Let the foes of this most divine Empire tremble before our wrath!"

 

[Apollyon The Betrayer]

Tag: Darth Meritum | Lirka Ka Darth Virelia Allyson Locke Madelyn Lowe Jacen Breska CT-312 Adean Castor Taeli Raaf Darth Morta Kayden Lind

"Likewise, my lord." said Apollyon, fist over her heart in a warrior salute.

"We are pleased to be welcomed into the fold once more."

When she bowed her head to Meritum it was deeper, more respectful, than she afforded most.

Playful as she was, the commander knew when to take someone seriously and when to answer respect in kind. And though she'd rarely interacted with Sith in person, to stand before them now filled her with pride and morbid curiosity both.

She excused herself then, her role played to an acceptable end.

On her way back into the crowd she cast a glance or two at the various figures gathered today, from the grotesque underlings of Festerruman Sachiel or the tall blonde who passed her by more quickly than most, to those who lingered quietly in the background like Darth Virelia , distracted or perhaps waiting to strike in their own way.

The Sith had changed so much in the near four decades that had passed since she left to fight their wars on Mandalore, and quickly she was realizing how strangely feudal it was. Tithes, warlords competing for favor with tributes of non-uniform soldiers and assets, each so very different from the last. They were less like a military machine and more like the warrior clans she was once familiar with, though certainly larger and far superior.

Perhaps this was exactly what Death Watch needed to flourish.

Speak of the devil, a pair of her crimson-clad warriors stepped out of the crowd, and in line.

"So it's true, band's back together." the captain said in disbelief, following close behind.

"Mhm. Everyone except gravemind. You boys will have to fill me in."

"You as well. we all thought you were dead."

Apollyon did not answer.

​

 

[Jacen Breska]

THE TITHE OF WORLDS ​

WEARING:: Jacen’s Second Legion Armor
EQUIPMENT: DC-902d
LOCATION: :: The Darklight ::
TAG: Kaila Irons Adean Castor CT-312 | @Open for anyone!

How many rotten apples spoiled the bunch?

Jacen wondered that question in silence, as several powerful people walked by, said their greetings, and moved on. The fact that Quinn Varanin apparently knew of CT-312 caused him to look at them with a raised eyebrow of confusion. Certainly would be a conversation to have later, he thought, before he focused his mind once more on the question that plagued him. He was thankful again for the helmet he wore. Not only did it protect him from battlefield danger, but it also worked wonders hiding his facial features and what he was really thinking, as his eyes dropped down in thought.

His place in the Sith Order did cause him some measure of concern. It only took one rotten one to end his story prematurely, but still, Brassius Zambrano ( Adean Castor ) was good to him. At the very least, hadn't killed him yet. Lord Anathemous ( Kaila Irons ) had fought with him a couple of times and hadn't killed him yet. That was a good sign. Lord Lechner as well. Lirka Ka was a worthy Warrior, herself.

And almost immediately that whole sideshow was set upon by a member of the Dark Council itself. More 'good' apples then bad, at least. By a long shot. And the few he'd worked with had earned his faith.

A feat repeated again and again by the dedication Lord Anathemous showed the Second Legion. Taking the opportunity, in a crowd such as this to boldly declare a world for your taking? Jacen could never. Even as a part of a bargain.
Maybe one day, he thought, one day if his name ever commanded a certain level of respect. When his loss is more of a detriment to the Empire they all worked to build and maintain together then any annoyance he caused could ever be. Certain people placed certain value on certain troopers, true. And he was lucky enough to be where he was, true. But that could change. Perhaps one day.

He turned his head slightly toward Brassius and nodded while shrugging a shoulder showing his agreement. Yet as soon as he did, he silently cursed himself for doing it. The helmet was both a blessing and a curse. It masked his thoughts, but when he did want to communicate, he had to exaggerate his movements. It made him fidget, shrug, nod on impulse. Right now? Subtlety would serve better. "Right person's attention can do wonders. I get it. But, if you'd like company, I'd be happy to attend," Jacen looked back at the entrance way, "This isn't my posting anyway," he chuckled underneath his helmet and nodded at Brassius.



​

 

[Quinn Varanin]

//: Darth Virelia //:
//: Tithes //:

Serina had always been a funny girl.

Her expressions were often so carefully arranged, her emotions deliberate—until something caught her off guard. Quinn smiled at the sudden spark of surprise. It was endearing, familiar. No matter how far Serina tried to climb, Quinn always saw the same girl she'd met at the Jutrand port.

Serina had never looked at her and seen "the Princess," only Quinn, and that was rare in a galaxy full of people eager to reduce her to a crown and a surname.

That was what Quinn valued most.

Too many others saw her as a means to an end, a tool to elevate their status, a prize to be claimed.

But Serina never had.

Quinn's smile lingered as she lifted her hand to cover a quiet laugh.

Whatever history lay between them, whatever Serina had confessed—none of it shifted how Quinn felt. Not even Susevfi, not even that title. She had chalked it up to ambition gone too far, the kind that drowned more than it saved. The memory still sat in the back of her mind, but it didn't harden her feelings. She had wanted Serina to stay close then. She still did now.

That had never changed.

She continued to watch the young Sith recover her poise with practiced ease. Even now, it was charming. If Serina had stayed and hadn't chased power at the expense of connection, maybe things would have unfolded differently.

Still, this moment was hers, and Quinn intended to enjoy it. "I wanted to congratulate you on your work on Polis Massa. I'm glad to see you doing well."

She stepped forward, closing the distance without hesitation. Boundaries had never meant much to her, not to someone she already knew so intimately. Her fingers lightly brushed the polished armor, tracing its craftsmanship with quiet approval. Her gaze followed the lines of the plating before returning to Serina's face, catching her eyes just as she whispered her small admission.

"Thank you," Quinn said softly, her head tilting slightly. Her smile grew warmer. "I've missed you too."

Her fingers lingered briefly against Serina's armor before retreating, though her presence remained close.

"You should visit Jutrand more often," she said, her voice low. "At least let me know when you're there. I've always enjoyed your company."

Her gaze dipped toward the wine, and she inhaled thoughtfully.

"You still have excellent taste; I'll give you that."

With ease, Quinn reached for the glass in Serina's hand, her fingertips gliding purposefully across hers as she took it. Her smile deepened.

"Thank you for the glass. I'm sure I'll enjoy every drop."

Her eyes drifted away momentarily, settling briefly on Kaila Irons across the room. The glance was enough—a silent signal that all was well.

Quinn's attention returned without pause, her tone playful again.

"I've just moved into a new place," she said, setting the glass to the side. "You should come to Jutrand and help me stock the cellars. With your taste, I might never want to drink anything else."

An open invitation that reached beyond wine and polite company. Quinn desired friendship with the girl.

 

[Darth Virelia]

"Silken lies and rigged promises."

Tags - OBJECTIVE ONE: Lirka Ka Quinn Varanin Kaila Irons Taeli Raaf Darth Meritum Festerruman Sachiel CT-312 Jacen Breska Adean Castor Darth Morta Ashin Cardé Varanin Apollyon The Betrayer


It was the touch that undid her.

Quinn's fingers on the edge of her armor, tracing lines that Serina had once carved in a sterile shipyard alone at midnight. It wasn't the gesture itself—it was how unafraid it was. How it cut through every careful calculation Serina had stacked like fortifications between herself and the world.

Quinn never asked permission.

She never needed to.

And Serina had never wanted her to.

She stood still as the wine glass was taken from her hand, as fingers brushed over hers with the same softness she remembered from Jutrand. A hand reaching out in the dark and finding hers. Serina hadn't known what love felt like until that moment. She had tasted it—warm, clumsy, thrilling—on a balcony too high for anyone else to hear them breathe.

Now Quinn was speaking again. Sweet nothings about wine cellars and company and invitations wrapped in laughter. They meant more than they should. They always did. Every word was a thread pulling Serina back to a world she had long since abandoned to climb higher. To disappear. To become something cold and untouchable.

And yet—

"You always make things sound so easy," Serina said softly, voice barely above a breath. "As if there's still a version of me who remembers how to say yes to any of it."

She smiled, but her smile was thin. Like moonlight caught on glass. Still beautiful, but brittle.

"You've no idea how many times I've thought about going back," she whispered. "To Jutrand. To that garden. Even just for a day. Just to... remember who I was. Before I started trying to become someone."

Before she started trying to become someone terrible enough to survive.

And then it happened.

So subtle, so quiet, she didn't even realize it at first. But something in her body shifted—some deep, coiled presence that had always been there just wasn't anymore. The pressure in her chest eased. The tension in her spine unwound. The cool, dry venom of the Dark Side that lived beneath her skin like static had... faded.

It was terrifying.

Her breath caught. For a single, horrible second, she felt empty.

Dying.

She said nothing. She didn't move. But her hand twitched slightly, and her eyes widened just enough to betray it. She didn't understand. She didn't know what had happened. Nothing had taken it. Nothing had pushed it out.

But her head was lighter.

Too light.

Why?

Her eyes flicked to Quinn again—soft, inviting, radiant. Still there. Still looking at her like she mattered.

And Serina almost—

She almost let go.

Almost.

But then, like a blade pushed back into her hand, the Dark Side returned. Crawling up through her lungs, wrapping tight around her thoughts. Her stomach turned. Her breath sharpened. Her spine straightened. And her mind, ever cold, remembered.

You are not here for her.

You are here to present your tithe.

The thought struck like a hammer on stone, and the mask slid back into place. Not with cruelty. Not with hatred. But with sorrow. With grief. Serina would never be the girl Quinn met on Jutrand. And the galaxy would never allow her to be.

Still, she softened her voice. Let it linger where she wished she could remain.

"I'll come," she said at last, voice distant but real. "To Jutrand. I promise."

She didn't know if it was true.

But she wanted it to be.



The echoes of Quinn's perfume were still clinging to her skin when Serina stepped forward.

Each footfall struck the crystalline floor like punctuation—a deliberate pause between pages in a book only she understood. Behind her, the false warmth of human connection faded like breath on glass, and ahead waited the cold, performative stage of politics. The tide shifted as she moved. The air grew tense.

Her heels clicked like teeth.

She passed warlords, governors, vainglorious Sith with robes too loud and thoughts too small. They whispered, or worse—expected. But Serina said nothing. Her silence was its own kind of declaration. One that made the room quieter than any voice ever could.

She ascended the dais with the composure of a blade drawn slowly from its sheath.

And then she turned to face them all.

Her voice was soft, but clear. A stone dropped in still water.

"The tithe of Polis Massa is not measured in regiments or relics. We deal in other things—material, knowledge, and the logistics of long wars in deep space. The Empire needs not only swords, but the scaffolding on which its future will be hung."

She paused, letting her blue eyes drift across the gathered Sith. Some smirked. Others scowled. Most simply waited for her to prove she deserved their time.

She would.

"In that spirit, I present two offerings."

Her fingers moved with elegant precision, activating the holoprojector embedded in her wrist. A sphere of light spun up behind her—an orbital schematic, vast and detailed, the bones of something massive drifting through uncharted black.

"The first is a contingent of Deep Void Trawlers. Designed for reclamation, salvage, and deep-space autonomy, these vessels will act as the logistical backbone of the Third Legion's advance into fractured hyperlanes and unexplored systems. They are equipped with adaptive scanning arrays, environmental reprocessing cores, and full-spectrum recovery bays. They do not wage war. They secure it."

The schematics shifted, rotating. Within the hulls of the ships, faint pulses of life could be seen—automated drones, covertly optimized systems. No mention was made of the hidden AI cores inside. No trace of Serina's silent, watching mind embedded in the heart of each one. That part was for her alone.

"They are efficient, low-maintenance, and loyal to no banner but the Empire's. They will keep your ships afloat. Your fleets supplied. Your victories supported."

Then her tone changed. Subtly. Something darker behind the eyes.

"But warfare is not only sustained. It is won."

Another flick of her fingers.

The image changed.

Where once was scaffolding, now there was violence.

A gun.

A monster of a weapon. Brutal. Sleek. Mean. Its form spoke of hunger—of something that was built not for elegance but eradication. It glowed in faint schematic red, its cryo-vents pulsing like a heartbeat, its autoloading carousel coiled and waiting like a predator ready to bite.

"This," she said simply, "is the VBLG-8 Snapmaw. A light assault gun, by our internal standard—despite its... spirited performance."

A few in the crowd scoffed.

Let them.

"It is compact. Rapid-fire. Heat-stable. Optimized for close-range saturation fire and subsystem annihilation. Designed to overwhelm rather than outgun, it is the smallest weapon we consider to be respectably dangerous."

Her lips quirked at that.

"The Snapmaw is being offered to the Third Legion on a provisional basis, with limited production rights granted for integration testing aboard select destroyer hulls. Should it meet or exceed battlefield expectations—"

And here her gaze lingered, just briefly, on the presumptive commander of the Third. A quiet dare.

"—a broader distribution agreement can be negotiated."

She let the implication hang. Power does not beg. It offers. And what Serina offered now was not simply a gift—it was a throne made of munitions and hull fragments, ready for someone to sit upon if they had the spine.

But even as she stood there, eyes sharp, voice calm, inside—

She was breaking.

That brief, flickering moment earlier with Quinn had left a wound she couldn't name. Something had left her, if only for a second. Some tether frayed. The lifeline of the Dark Side had faltered in her chest like a heartbeat skipping rhythm. She had nearly lost it.

She didn't understand it. Didn't want to.

And now, as she looked at the fire and steel she had built—the machines that chewed through planets and pumped smoke into the lungs of galaxies—Serina Calis felt, just for a second, like a woman clutching pyres instead of people.

But then she reminded herself:

This was the price.

This was the cost.

Pity is the luxury of the weak.

She straightened.

"This is our offering. May it serve you well."

And with nothing more, she descended the dais.

 

[CT-312]

//: Jacen Breska Adean Castor | OPEN //:
//: Weapons: LO-18D ASSAULT RIFLE, & Vibroblade Knife//:
//: Attire //:
//: The Darklight //:
//: Objective I: The Tithe of Worlds //:

Hearing TK-710 accepting the offer, beneath the helmet, CT-312’s expression barely shifted. A subtle lift of a brow. He was more willing to walk into the lion’s den. Not her though.

“A generous offer,” she replied to the Lord, giving a respectful nod. “I do have a squad to check on and unfortunately patrol rotations can’t be put on pause.” CT-312 pushed off the wall and turned, “It was nice briefly speaking to you my Lord. TK-710.“

Her footsteps quiet against the marble. The mere non-existent idea of potentially being noticed by a Dark Councilor or any of the Sith Lords in here sat wrong in her gut. Especially after seeing how effortlessly she made a creature disappear in thin air. Still not knowing what to make of it. In this place, a Sith Lord knowing your name could be a blessing… or a curse. And CT-312 wasn’t in the business of gambling which way it may fall. It was already bad enough that the Princess had singled her out earlier. Speaking like they were familiar. Three encounters. That's all it took. She’d rather keep those numbers low.

As CT-312 turned back to her patrol, she recalled the events that happened. Noticing the Princess had another companion she was closely fond of, the Second Legion Lord Anathemous. As well as an apprentice? The three moved together easily, familiar. The Princess had a way of making connections, clearly on friendly terms with a lot of people in the room. She was the kind that noticed things.

The Camo Scout would rather not be one of them. But it was too late for that, it seems.

MB-1782 and TK-2142 gave a subtle nod as CT-312 approached. Slipping back into the comfort of duty. No masks. No courtly games. Just work. It was safer that way. She’d keep her distance here and keep watching.

Spoiler: Nearby|Tags

Lirka Ka Darth Virelia Taeli Raaf Allyson Locke Madelyn Lowe Festerruman Sachiel Ashin Cardé Varanin Apollyon The Betrayer Darth Morta Quinn Varanin

 

[Taeli Raaf]

Objective I - Tithe of Worlds
Adean Castor CT-312 Jacen Breska Darth Virelia Quinn Varanin Lirka Ka Festerruman Sachiel Kaila Irons Darth Meritum Darth Morta Ashin Cardé Varanin Apollyon The Betrayer
​

Once the disturbance had been properly handled, and she had walked away, she had sent a message to some of her Mind Whisperers to see to the men the creature she had banished from realty had affected. The way cultists and their pets had a way of trying to linger in the minds of others, to indoctrinate, was all well and good, but nothing she would abide among the Sith forces present. Nothing a little mnemotherapy couldn't fix, but it did mean her night was likely to be at least halfway subsumed by that task. All the more annoying when she got the report of the ship that had been affected by madness as well from her adjutant.

Three-quarters of her night now...

Still, she would linger for a time still within the chamber as she wanted to observe what offers were presented. She had already made her donation to the Third Legion when she arrived, and she felt little need to make a whole presentation of it as Serina and Warmaster Sachiel were doing. All well and good offers, not that she trusted the young governor from Polis Massa to not try and manipulate the situation to her advantage in some way. Her gifts would never truly be gifts, but with her keeping a close eye on her now, perhaps her plotting could be turned to more beneficial outcomes for the Empire. It would just need guided properly, and she had clocked and heard the whispers between her and Quinn. She had felt the momentary ebb of her life force at some thought while she was in the presence of the Princess, only further confirming to her exactly how she was maintaining herself. Another mental note to add.

Ashin's gift to the Legion, and it was a gift rather than a tithe, was more intriguing to her. Perhaps they would need to chat later that night or some time in the future as those maps would be of interest to her.

Amethyst eyes would turn to meet those of a younger woman, one that she felt had a degree of curiosity. A slow smile would form, and she would give her a gesture that it would be alright for her and her companions to approach.

 

[Trayze Tesar]

OBJECTIVE I (and later III)

---

CURRENT MISSION - Render Unto Caesar...
Immediate Goals -
1: Uphold the Oaths of Old
2: Forge Alliances Anew
3: Ensure the Empire Stands

BLUFOR - Quinn Varanin || Kayden Lind || Kaila Irons

OPFOR - Enemy Unknown

It's Complicated - Darth Virelia || Lirka Ka || Darth Meritum || Darth Empyrean

TARGETING ACTION(S) - Quinn Varanin || Kayden Lind || Kaila Irons || OPEN FREQUENCY

---

How much has the galaxy changed once again - and yet how little it did.

Lirka Ka his... associate would bay and bark for blood as was her wont, and her declaration was tacitly accepted. Likewise, each governor would in turn offer themselves, their resources, or in Trayze's case - both.

He would wait patiently, lingering near the Princess he had rescued almost lifetime ago, along with her apprentice, Kayden Lind , and the knight in shining steel that was Kaila Irons .

When it was time for him to speak, his oath would be straight and to the point - offering himself, his assets gained, and his fleet to the securing of the conquests made. Whether that be attachment to the Third Legion or as an auxiliary force, he would give the Empire what he had always done, the silent workhorses to keep what the Empire reclaimed in the wake of the warping. He was here to let his accomplishments do the talking, not grandstand.

For now, he bowed his head at the trio. "Mister Lind," first was the bright haired youth that he had met in the Coruscanti underworld, and being apprenticed to one such as Quinn Varanin was a high honor indeed. Even if the courtly knowledge of the Daughter of the Empress fell flat, he would at least learn how to charm any woman in the Galaxy. "Lady Anathemous," on the subject of one who dutifully and truly cared for the Princess that they had rescued together. She was her shield, her sword, and her stalwart companion - and it was both the respect for her accomplishments and his sentimental romanticism that caused him to clash with her internally...

"Your Highness." the lowest bow would be reserved to the enchanting Enchani. Yes, she who Malum, Lady Anathemous, and seemingly everyone in the Galaxy fawned over. Not that he blamed them one bit. Even now, he tasted the echoes of a conversation with... someone who had benefitted from Susefvi a while back, and who he had seen once and twice.

Perhaps the smile he had seen a while back was more genuine than he realized.

"It is good to see you again, despite these circumstances."

 

[Adean Castor]

TAG: CT-312 | Jacen Breska | Taeli Raaf | Open
NEARBY: Many
OBJECTIVE: The Tithe of Worlds
APPAREL: X

A dark brow rose with Jacen's - no, TK-710's chuckled response, though no malice could be found on her pale visage. The look could've been taken for gentle amusement or confoundment. A wave of relief over her at his agreement to come along in meeting the Dark Councilor. An escort, even the illusion of such, granted credence to her being here, even if by a fraction.

CT-312's rejection of her invitation wasn't much of a surprise. "Of course. Tonight of all nights would not be one to stray from orders, either," she said with a nod, backing away a pace to allow the trooper room to depart. Not with the gruesome display they all played witness to, or the mysterious move made by the Dark Councilor following it. Even before those events, Adean could hardly imagine the pressure the troops must've been under, running security for a room of Sith Lords. "You as well. May the rest of your evening pass without incident."

Rolling her shoulders, she gave a small nod to TK-710 and started walking, assuming he'd come along. "What is your posting, anyway?" she asked, half hoping a more casual conversation would help ease any nerves before attempting one of potentially more consequence. "And if you don't mind me saying," She cast a glance back at her armored companion, brow furrowed. "You seemed off for a bit there. You good?"

A slight shiver rolled down her spine when emerald met amethyst. The steadying breath Adean - no, Brassius - took was barely perceptible as they more fully adapted the role they played. Brassius wasn't one to partake in fear, not really. That'd hardly befit one of their name. So any trepidation Adean might've felt was buried, suppressed until it was unrecognizable, stretched paper thin beyond the veil of curiosity.

Their weight shifted to their back leg, knee bent while their back remained straight. A sign of deference, though not quite as reverent as a more traditional bow. Was it bold for one who so adamantly clung to the peripheries of any setting they found themself in? Perhaps. But one had to be if they hoped to get anywhere in such an assembly.

She found herself at a loss for what to say. After all, she couldn't rightly start with 'Hi, I'm pretty sure you did something a few minutes ago, but I'm not sure what you did.' or 'I saw you talking to that group that caused such a scene and I'd like the details.' Or perhaps that wasn't such a bad place to start after all. "Councilor," she started, schooling herself not to avert her gaze or give up entirely. This was a mystery she intended to find an answer to. "I noticed you spoke to our more...theatrical, shall we put it, guests. I trust they did not give you any trouble?"