Dominion After Taxes | SO Dominion of Empty Hex

[Quinn Varanin]

//: Darth Virelia //: CT-312 //:
//: Kayden Lind //: Kaila Irons //: Trayze Tesar //:
//: Attire //:

Quinn felt the shift from the person she knew as Serina Calis to the person who had become Serina Calis. It was an interesting shift, but one that the Empire demanded to survive.

Quinn didn't push further; the promise to return to Jutrand was enough for her interests. Seeing that it was time for the Governor of Polis Massa to step forward into her destiny, the Princess reached out once more, letting her fingertips gently, perhaps unnoticeably, caress the back of Serina's.
It carried the weight of their connection, and Quinn let it speak the words she couldn't say.

Forgiveness and pride. Two things that Serina may need at this moment.

Despite everything, Quinn forgave Serina's foolish nature as Susevfi and was proud of the woman she was becoming. Serina had been one of the few who looked to take advantage of Quinn - something the Echani valued above all else.

Stepping away as Serina began offering her tithe for the third legion, Quinn focused elsewhere. Kaila and Kayden were off in the distance; Kaila seemingly had just finished her offering. Which seemed to have drawn the boy's attention. A slight smirk curled at the corner of her lips as she ensured Kayden got to play with some of Kaila's creations.

Her attention was drawn to the retreating scout trooper. They had only a moment to interact, and she wished to ensure that 312's higher-ups knew of the Princess's displeasure at not having the trooper when requested. Quinn moved through the crowd of onlookers as they paid attention to those announcing their tithes. It didn't take long for her to catch up to 312, and she smiled while tapping the soldier on the shoulder.

"312~" Quinn's gentle voice was almost lyrical as she said the trooper's number. She stood carefully behind the smaller woman as she waited for an acknowledgment. When the time had come, she pulled a small envelope from her cloak and offered the slightly pink-hued document accented with delicate hints of her perfume.

"There's two letters, one for your boss - the other is for you. Both requests for your service are coming up soon. I hope we can work together soon."

Quinn paused, letting her words sink in just a bit. "I have missed your company - I find you interesting, so I'm looking forward to it."

Stepping back, Quinn remembered, "If you're thinking of getting out of my request - just remember you owe me for the dress you tore yourself out of."

With a little smile, the Echani princess left, heading toward her apprentice.

At the same time, it seemed an old face she hadn't seen in some time appeared. The Officer bowed and acknowledged the trio that was before him. Quinn smiled and nodded her head in acknowledgment.

"It has been some time, Mister Tesar. I hope you've been well - along with your cousin, which I'm surprised not to see." Quinn looked around as she had finished, wondering if the Raven Lord had slipped in without her knowing. The man had been quiet as of recently; perhaps his duties have gotten the better of his time.

Her eyes settled on her much taller apprentice, nearly having to break her neck to look up at the boy. "Are you having fun? I could always offer you as a tithe to the third legion." Quinn chuckled as she rested gently on the boy's arm momentarily.

"Only if you desire and feel it's time to explore more of the galaxy." Remembering quietly the look on his face when Kaila announced the equipment she offered.

"Did anything catch your attention, in particular, my apprentice?"

 

[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 || CT-312

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

---

Quinn held a charm that was both alluring as it was genuine, mingling even with common troopers who were here to stiffly relay their commander's tithes - an irresponsibility that soured the taste in the Kiffar's mouth. Pomp, circumstance and patriotism had it's place - but with some Sith acting more as leprous hounds, rabid and ravening for blood of worlds already under Imperial Protection - Trayze Tesar never was a man of courtly demeanor.

But that didn't mean he was beyond courtesy.

"It has been some time, Mister Tesar. I hope you've been well - along with your cousin, which I'm surprised not to see." Quinn looked around as she had finished, wondering if the Raven Lord had slipped in without her knowing. The man had been quiet as of recently; perhaps his duties have gotten the better of his time.

On the backs of oaths to-the-point and perhaps scoffed for their lack of sufficient grandiosity, a weathered smile answered the Princess' attempts to sight his cousin. Wordless chuckle as his aura tingled with mirth in recollection, yet reigned in with tinkling tension as he remembered the lady-knight that the Princess was rather... fond of.

Bloody hell this is awkward.

"Mister Tesar's my grandsire, Highness." he allowed the rumble of his rural brogue to return to him, now that his vows were given to the Voice of the Emperor. "Captain should suffice, or if the Princess wishes to give me the honor of my station, "His Excellency of Besberra"."

The tone arose first in genuine pride - holding both station and a reason to get his boots dirty rather than become more of a pencil-pusher than he was - before descending into an almost familiar teasing tone, mimicking the perhaps overeager heralds of this auspicious lordling or that. Beyond simply knowing the most astounding Alvarian this side of the Galaxy, Trayze did mark each woman present as honorable at best, interesting at worst - and he would like to consider them friends.

Especially the tall apprentice that the Princess teased to send him to Firefist.

With a mild chuckle, he came to the unneeded defense of the Coruscanti lad. "Should Mister Lind feel up to Her Highness' standards, I could always keep an eye on him." he offered, half teasing, but the unseen eyes could sense the sincerity in his intent. He did not belittle the young Apprentice, but he recognized that he was a recent arrival to the Sith way of life - both as a practitioner of the Force and a functionary of the Empire. Far be it from him to poach from the Princess, but Trayze couldn't help but feel... not necessarily a kindred spirit, but perhaps a sense of... desired responsibility.

Perhaps to convey some insights and a shoulder to lean on, just as Malum was to him.

The unseen interplay continued as the burgundy eyes followed his newfound companions', to the various technologies and offerings to the cause.

 

[Jacen Breska]

THE TITHE OF WORLDS ​

WEARING:: Jacen’s Second Legion Armor
EQUIPMENT: DC-902d
LOCATION: :: The Darklight ::
TAG: Adean Castor Taeli Raaf

What is your posting, anyway?

Jacen fell into step behind Brassius, and answered the question as it was asked. “Look off to your right, up on that platform,” he said, looking back to where his squad remained. “Help keep a handle on any situation that may arise,” he scoffed and shook his head. “Not sure how one would be able to manage that. I decided to come down, see what happened with those poor guys. I’m not eager to wait by the door, but acting as your escort? I can think of no better posting.”
Jacen smiled underneath his helmet and continued to follow behind Brassius. He lowered his eyes in thought,
You good?

The question came as a surprise. He raised his head again to meet Brassius’ gaze. There was a part of him, a big part, that wanted to confide in her everything that he was thinking. Share this crisis of faith he was having in the Sith, seek her reaffirmations, her reassurances. But he couldn’t. Couldn’t bring himself to trust this person completely, much as he wanted to. They had met on a mission on Trenwyth, and she was a spy. Her job was to be as unknowable and mysterious as possible, and Jacen could never be sure that she was his friend.

“Yeah, yeah I’m good.” He nodded his head as he lied. “That was just unsettling,” he added. It wasn’t untrue, just wasn’t the whole truth. But he hoped the answer would be sufficient for her.

As they approached the Dark Councillor, Jacen would follow in Brassius’ footsteps. Although his bow was much more mechanical and practical in nature as he lowered his head and bowed forward.

This was the one who attended to the incident and that seemingly put an end to it. So at the very least, Jacen thought, she wouldn’t kill him just for being there. He allowed himself to let go of the breath he hadn’t been aware he was holding. He said nothing, did not dare to let a single sound escape his lips. He kept his head locked straight ahead, but he kept his eyes locked on the Councillor’s inside his helmet. Sweat started to accumulate on his forehead.

He was happy that he had the chance to be in the presence of a Councillor, he just hoped he’d survive the meeting.

​

 

[Lirka Ka]

OBJECTIVE 1: TITHE OF WORLDS
TAGS: Trayze Tesar Adean Castor Taeli Raaf CT-312 Jacen Breska Darth Virelia Quinn Varanin Kaila Irons Festerruman Sachiel Darth Morta Apollyon The Betrayer Ashin Cardé Varanin


Darkness swelled, and with it came announcement.

Across the comm channels, over the klaxons of the Darklight. For tithes had been presented, politics and war melded into one as the name of the newest Imperator was uttered into existence.

Lirka Ka.

A choice most unexpected, the Kainate’s armored beast ascendant. The tithes brought before the legion processed and calculated, with it the second-in-command: the Arch-Commandant, was declared. A choice as equally as unexpected, a governor of reputation now elevated to be beneath the beast’s command:

Darth Virelia

The irony of the supposed promotion was not lost on Lirka. The two had brawled time and time again, and now by the Emperor’s will had they been forced in union for the “greater good” of the growing Sith-Imperial dominion. Emotion swirled in the chest of the woman who had declared her all to the potentiality of this third legion, pride, paranoia, ambition, and myriad more. The Once-Sephi knew plenty well that a gift was not always a gift.

Darth Empyrean had presented her with a noose disguised as the title “Imperator”. Now it was merely the dominion of time to see if she would hang herself with it and send all she so carefully built into flaming inferno and bring the shame of “Kainite failure” upon this growing cultural-crusade. Yet for now, the woman pushed the danger of all this aside.

She had been noticed now. And with notice came the crucible - she was ready. Beneath her helm, Lirka could feel the brand Carnifex had grown upon her flesh itch and writhe. It was a reminder of her dark purpose, of the ascendant path she was to walk. Yes, Lirka Ka had been noticed.

And she would not disappointed.

Chest puffed, the mechanical goliath walked to the platform upon which the Emperor’s Voice stood, eyes locked upon the empty seat where her supposed-leader was supposed to sit. There was much to consider, politics were in play. It was time to remind the masses that once-upon-a-time Lirka Ka had been a politician.

Now did she turn to face the gathered crowd that filled the Darklight’s chamber. A menagerie, a glorious assembly of power. So many had presented their offerings to the legion, her legion. A mass built from all ends of the Empire, the sort of beautiful mess that the Once-Sephi adored. A mess that would need the guiding hand of darkness as the word of the Sith was spread far and wide in a Galaxy sundered by astronomical catastrophe.

With glowing slit-lenses glancing over the crowd, the Imperator spoke - voice echoing throughout the hall as her helm amplified her words.

“For many long years have I served the Sith, in many-a-form have I stood alongside the Dark Side’s warriors!”

And in so many forms had the Sith appeared. Carnifex’s Empire. The Maw. Now, Empyreans dominion. All had the presence of Lirka Ka appeared, the servant of darkness. She who preached the path of the Primordial Dark heralded by the destruction left in the wake of the Sith and their allies.

But today, the third was not to be a force of destruction. Nay it was to the force of change, of a culture that would spread far and wide to bring all of these lost and unscathed worlds into the dominion of the Sith. Ashin Cardé Varanin had made sure this great vessel would pierce through the veil, the greatest power of all: information, had been gifted to the third.

“I have served, and I have fought. Fought and killed time, time, and time again!”

War was the language of the Sith. Peace was a lie after all. One but needed to gaze upon the tithes today to see that fact. A million souls from Krayiss II courtesy of Darth Morta . The Echosan trenchers alongside the arms and armor of their home from Kaila Irons . The murderous warriors of the Sith-Imperial Deathwatch, alongside their leader Apollyon The Betrayer - a gaggle Lirka had some familiarity with from the before-times, the plundered Beskar upon her form had to come from somewhere after all. The flesh-mound monstrosities of Festerruman Sachiel joining the menagerie as a near-humorous reminder to Lirka of her own twisted form.

Warriors. Murderers. Monsters. All of them. No matter the noble faces some may have put on, they were apart of that same dark beast that was destined to consume the very Galaxy.

"Fought in those wars where Sith battled Sith, in those wars where Imperial killed Imperial! Where the blood spilled is of allies that have become enemies, in those days where enemies became allies!"

Lirka was under no delusion. That fact did not make her special; almost all of them had tasted that blood before. There was a wisdom to be found in the murder of kin, and under this newest of Empires there was no delusions about the division that ran between the many Sith philosophies...and yet. Here they all were.

"Yet, here we are! Eternalist, Kainite, Tsis'Kaar, wayward denominations, and silent heretics! All of us, beneath this rising banner of the Third! Here within this guiding dark light, here aboard this spear of midnight black that we shall thrust into the unknown to tame the chaos! All of us, as Sith!"

Lirka paced as she spoke, eyes unmoving from the crowd. She was certainly an animated speaker when she wanted to be. She thought beyond the mere tithers, to the likes of CT-312 who had saluted the monster in approval prior: those meager souls that built the bedrock of the Sith's domain, to the mightiest of Councilors that turned the goings of their Empire upon their fingertips. All stood to play their role in the dance.

"We who are the paragons of order, we who have heard the call to spread that which we have fought a lifetime of battles to build! We who now stand together, bound by darkness, we who are Sith! From the lowliest of warriors to the mightiest of Lords! Let all stand beneath this banner, to look out to the untamed chaos of potential! Of a Galaxy maimed and hungry to be healed! The brave that will form the bulwark of a new age, a new dawn for this Empire!

Lirka thrusted a clawed hand to the sky, reaching out to the glimmer of the void of space that shimmered through the viewports of the Darklight as if to grasp reality itself within her hands.

"Out there lies wealth unending, power untapped, a thousand worlds to be brought into the fold! We, the Third, stand ready to take what is rightfully ours! To claim what the strong and the worthy are rightfully owed by this Galaxy!"

Purpose swelled within her twisted hearts, so often had they underestimated her. So often had Lirka Ka been nothing but the brute, she had been freed from the yoke now and with it came ambition unburdened. An army of killers and liars at her fingertips, an armada ready to blot out the sun, a purpose given to her by the Emperor himself. Empyrean may have handed her the noose, but he would soon find Lirka Ka was not so easily sundered.

"And I, as your Imperator, shall lead you into the chaos! Today, Firefist! Tomorrow, the Galaxy!"

Her hand clenched into a fist now, raised in salute and with it did she let her voice thunder in declaration.

"Ain' od'linel t'lor! Glory to the Strong!"

Let today be the day the Third rose, and with it: a new darkness.

 

[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 didn't hear the announcement at first.

Not really.

The syllables echoed across the chamber like an aftershock—her own name hollowed out by the acoustics of the Darklight. She heard it from someone else's mouth, someone else's voice, as if the title didn't belong to her at all. Not a title—a sentence.

Arch-Commandant.
Beneath Lirka Ka.

The room spun, though her body didn't move.

She had not flinched. Had not breathed. Not visibly. But the darkness inside her—the coiling, disciplined pressure she wielded like a scalpel—shuddered. Cracks formed along her self-control like fractures in a pressurized viewport, hairline and growing.

Her jaw tightened. Her fingers curled around the stem of her goblet until the glass cracked. She did not let go. She couldn't. Her face remained composed, a portrait of imperial poise, but her thoughts—

They were screaming.

Lirka Ka.

LIRKA. FETHING. KA.

It took every ounce of will Serina possessed not to explode. Not to spit across the chamber that this was lunacy, that Darth Empyrean had clearly suffered some kind of divine aneurysm, that this was not governance—this was theater.

She had burned Saijo from orbit. She had clawed Polis Massa from the jaws of irrelevance and forged a military-industrial machine in silence and shadow. She had shaped the Empire's future with one hand while throttling its past with the other.

And now? She was expected to march beneath that malformed brute with the oratory skill of a war hammer and the aesthetic sensibility of a rotting wroshyr stump?!

She swallowed the bile in her throat.

Lirka's voice thundered. A bombastic sermon of war and glory and unity. Words meant to bind them together. To make them forget that not one of them here had chosen her.

Serina's eye twitched.

The woman had fought in wars where Sith killed Sith? Lovely. So had every breathing person in this room. That wasn't a résumé. That was trauma bonding with an audience too bored to care.

She inhaled slowly, quietly. Not for calm—there was no calm left in her—but to delay the moment she lost control.

Control is everything, she reminded herself. Control is survival.

But it didn't help.

Not when Lirka raised her fist like she was leading a tribal rebellion instead of commanding an empire. Not when she roared some guttural nonsense like a savage mistaking volume for vision. Not when Serina could still feel the mockery curling around her like chains dipped in honey.

"Under her."
"Beneath her."
"Answerable to her."

The words echoed again. Like chains tightening.

No. No. No.

She was not beneath anyone.

And yet—here she stood. Teeth clenched behind a closed-lip smile. Heart hammering like an animal against its cage. Palms bloodied where glass and rage met her flesh. And no one would know.

Not yet.

Because this was not over.