Faction At the Temple of Magnus (TSE)

[Darth Carnifex]

It was perhaps a far cry from the glamorous temples on Dromund Kaas and Korriban, those monuments that held within the history of the Sith in every stone. It was the grim reality faced by the Sith, their sacred haunts were under close inspection by their enemies or held by another. They had to get creative in their exile, and so the creation of massive pyramidal academy-ships had begun under the direction of Darth Carnifex, former Emperor of the Sith.

Built as the inverse of the ancient pyramids of Korriban, the academy-ships were mobile and well-equipped to house and train up to several thousand Sith acolytes and their instructors. The first of these gargantuan vessels, the Temple of Magnus, had recently set out on its maiden voyage through the lonesome backwaters of the galaxy. Under the auspices of Darth Carnifex's instruction, the Temple had scoured several neglected worlds and deprived them of their Force-Sensitive inhabitants. Those that did not meet the Dark Lord's strict criteria were put to the sword, and all evidence of their coming burned to ash along with entire cities and villages.

Now those chosen by the Dark Lord were being pressed into Sith training against their will, put through the rigorous and grueling regimen designed to break the body and strangle the will. Already the courtyard floor had grown wet with blood, the uninitiated suffering under the withering gaze of the Dark Lord. There was a medley of the uninitiated and acolytes on the training floor, a mass group having been assembled to train directly under the watchful eye of Darth Carnifex and his closest confidants.

"Embrace your hatred and your anger," the husky whisper of the Dark Lord's voice invaded the deepest recesses of the trainee's minds, "Kill your enemy before they kill you." Several of the uninitiated had done so, surrendering to their darkest impulses and slaying their foe in a split second of blinding hatred. For most, that hate had quickly subsided once the foul deed had been done. For others, the hate had remained. Regardless of their state following the murder, there was nothing that could take back what they had done. The murder had forever stained their souls.

"A ragged bunch," quipped the identical man standing next to Carnifex, "But even refuse has its uses." Where the Dark Lord Carnifex saw the weak as useless, His mirror image Demiurge saw the use in all creatures weak and small. His mind was buzzing with thoughts and ideas, new ways to expand upon the consciousness through pain and torment. He decided that many of these lesser students of the Dark Side would serve the Sith well.

"The wheat will be separated from the chaff, as it always has been. We may yet make Sith out of these wretches if they can break the chains that hold them back." Even Carnifex could see a few among the uninitiated that held within them that spark, a spark necessary to push beyond their limits and break their chains. All that was required was steady guidance.

Steady guidance... And pain.

For pain was the scalpel of creation, and with this scalpel, anything could be achieved.

(( OOC: This is a social thread for TSE Sith of all different tiers and skills to mingle and train against one another if they so wish. Please participate, make connections with other Sith chars, and most of all enjoy yourselves. ))​

 

[Darth Strosius]

Alisteri had heard many stories of the infamous Darth Carnifex, and he had seen enough evidence with his own eyes to believe half of what he'd heard. Brutal made manifest did little to describe what had been said. Even still, the barren surface of planets left in his wake was hardly comparable to the sight before him now. So many dead and dying littered the courtyard in his gaze, idly feeling his eye twitch as a feeling of hunger rose up at the sight of so much blood. He bit his tongue to sate the thirst, a small part of him disgusted at the reaction. Even if it was natural.

The fighting had been merciless, once the initial hesitation was gone.

Throw in a few Acolytes and the 'training yard' had been converted into a slaughterhouse in but a few minutes. He racked his mind trying to remember if he had ever heard of such a gruesome sight before, if it was common with any training. Sure I was in an arena battle between a bunch of Acolytes once...but that had been somewhat fair. We were all already on our way to being Sith, to some extent. These uninitiated hadn't been, they had been pressed into killing or being killed. What a waste. No subtlety at all, as to be expected.

The masked Acolyte slowly stood and dusted himself off. Given that they were throwing all of the 'weak' Sith and prospects into the training yard, he had little doubt he would be dragged there at some point. He didn't exactly have any way of getting out of it by this point, other than just trying to flee the station itself. That would be even more difficult than just hopping into the courtyard and fighting, and that was if he made it to a ship anyway. Better to go ahead and make his way towards the entrance of the training yard so that he wouldn't be hunted down by whatever guards were around.

I knew that coming to such a grand opening was a bad idea.

 

[Venn Kolis]

The torment lay in the wretched simplicity of the choice. You killed, or you died.

Kneeling in rags on the dark metal floor, Venn looked about him at the mayhem that had begun. There was clearly no way out of this pit, because the slaves weren't alone. Along with the desperate wild-eyed prisoners, gaunt figures in robes stalked about the courtyard. These people were dangerous. They waved wicked blades of black metal and sought out opportunities to flaunt their sorcery; slamming bodies into walls, electrocuting frightened slaves with a touch of a hand.

If they'd wanted they could have simply slaughtered every one of the assembled prisoners, but their goal wasn't battle, it was to incite it. They would threaten death on any sod who hesitated to kill the being next to him, be they man, woman, or child. Venn looked on in numb horror as a woman turned on the man who'd been protecting her from the other slaves, stabbing him again and again with a rusted shiv, apologizing in shrill screams as his blood fell to the dark floor.

Those rusty knives were important. They were usually thrown into a crowd in the hopes of making the masses scratch and claw desperately for a weapon, for some semblance of security. Some slaves had blades given to them, which only made them a hated target. Others never got a chance to arm themselves and had to run from desperate killers. And some were killed by the robed wranglers for seemingly no reason at all.

It wasn't fair. And it seemed random. But that didn't mean there was no meaning to it. As he charged forward with all the speed his starved body could muster, Venn realized something. He realized what the lesson here was; what the haunting, scraping whisper in the back of his mind had been trying to tell him.

Life was like this pit. The truth of it seemed to wash away the distant memories of the quiet life he'd been ripped from. All that mattered was the desperate woman he barreled into, her frightened yelp becoming a squawk as his hands closed around her throat. He slammed the back of her head into the floor, barely registering the little dagger she stuck into his shoulder.

The man who'd tried to protect this woman? She'd killed him. Living for another person meant that in order to survive, another person had to live for you. If they chose not to? You died, right then and there. Selflessness put your life in the hands of another. It wasn't kind. It was suicide. Wasn't that why his family, whose faces so quickly faded from memory, were all ash now?

The ones in robes? They were just as afraid as the slaves were. But they understood what it took to survive this pit. To embrace the cruelty, to seek the attention of the onlookers above, without attracting the enmity of the ones down here with you.

Blood slowly trickled from the knife in his shoulder as the woman writhing under him began to lose consciousness. Her violent flailing and gargled screams were fading away, and an emptiness was creeping into her eyes. Venn's hands squeezed with a strength he hadn't known was left in him. Just a little bit more....

When Venn spoke to her, he wasn't sure whose words they were, or where his calm understanding came from.

"Shhh, it's alright. It's alright. This is a mercy. I promise."

 

[Aliris Tremiru]

This wasn't right. This was wrong. Wrong.

The Tremiru family never bothered to participate in these sorts of events. They were arenas for the desperate and the forced to put on a show in a hopes of catching the eye of their betters and be spared death. Only one in the history of the prestigious family had ever been thrown into one of these rings. Isari had watched her older sister, the failure of the Tremiru, desperately trying to show that she could survive as a Sith.

The young acolyte had watched with glee as Alina looked like she was going to die. Only, Alina didn't die. She rose. She grew strong. Isari had a respect for that. The failure, with no ability to use the Force at the time, becoming something truly worthy of the Tremiru name. Then she betrayed them. Destroyed the family estate. Ruined their reputation. Cast aside the vast treasury of knowledge and ancient artifacts that had been hoarded for centuries.

Isari lived in prestige and luxury. No one could touch her while her family was at the height of it's power. Now? Now she was among these slaves. These lessers! Forced to fight tooth and nail for a place among the Sith that was hers from the moment she was born. Sorrow and rage filled her heart as she stood in the arena, watching others kill or be killed. She hated this.

It was supposed to be beneath her.

Danger flashed in the back of her mind. Isari moved, just dodging one of the shiv armed slaves. Desperation leaked from them like an ooze. Anger flashed in the young Acolyte's eyes as blood from a fresh cut leaked down her cheek. "How dare you!" There was no time for regret from the boy, barely her own age. He shook with fear, gripping the shiv in both hands. Tears streaming down his face.

He met the woman's glare with one of pure fear and misery. Then dropped. A pressure from no where seemed to crash into his shoulders as Isari brought a hand down. The Force bent to her will, crushing the boy into the ground. She stepped over, hand outstretched. Pushing him more and more into the ground. Bones cracked as his ribs shattered from the pressure. He was dead in a flash.

But Isari wasn't done. Furious, at him. At this place. At the Sith who made her fight, she started to kick his corpse. Over and over again, roaring in anger. No one dared to come near her.

 

[Sisserith]

​

Location: Training Courtyard - Temple of Magnus
Equipment: Vibroblade
Tag: Darth Carnifex Darth Strosius Aliris Tremiru Venn Kolis
Direct Engagement: Darth Strosius

She was far from Forn.

Far from the Hold of Glass, the home fortress of her tribe on Paraklak II, a world millions of light-years from this place. And yet, her Father had seen her traverse between the two galaxies in the blink of an eye, the blood mark acting as a link between minion and Dark Lord, allowing Him to call Azera to His side without regard for the barriers of time and space.

She found herself here only because she had won The Exclusion, emerging as the sole survivor out of hundreds and thereby becoming one of His many servants, serving in the capacity of a personal eliminatrix and minion. However, it had been made clear to her that the Exclusion was naught but the first of many trials. There would be more tests to strengthen her far beyond what she could do now, push her limits, and in the process, purge weakness.

If she failed, another would replace her in the blink of an eye.

This would be the first of those tests.

With wide, glowing cerulean eyes, Azera took in the diverse assembly of creatures, humans, Near-Humans, humanoids, and aliens surrounding her within the courtyard, their expressions wracked with equal measures of pain, fear, sorrow, and hatred as they lashed out against each other in what quickly devolved into an outbreak of violence and death. Her eyes caught a man with a knife buried in his shoulder as he strangled a struggling woman situated beneath him, his features oddly composed in spite of the savagery of the act. She watched a blonde woman crush a man into the ground via an invisible pressure, before kicking at his grotesquely mangled form in a flash of rage. Then, she saw a masked figure ( Darth Strosius ) standing at the edge of the yard, seemingly hesitant to engage in the orgy of rank bloodshed.

Azera decided that she would be his date to the party.

The tiny Seseli stalked towards the masked Acolyte, in the process savagely cutting down one of the prisoners, who having succumbed to a spell of rage, suddenly lunged at her with a vibroblade, evidently expecting an easy kill if her stature was any indication. In answer, powerful, digitigrade legs carried her back, out of reach of his swing. While she was unarmed, Azera leveraged the one advantage she had against the entranced prisoner. The glow in her eyes intensified as an ominous, high-pitched whine sounded out, preceding a sudden projection of Force. A pair of concentrated plasma beams lanced forth from both of her eyes and struck the man in his chest, carrying a power quotient roughly equivalent to two handheld blasters. With a burning hole bored into his chest, the man collapsed onto the ground, a shocked, breathless expression manifesting across his features.

Azera giggled as she stepped over his corpse and picked up his vibroblade. Then, with a playful, yet bloodthirsty glint in her eyes, she approached the masked Acolyte, spinning the vibroblade in her hand as she did.

“Having fun yet tall, dark, and…” Azera purred, before pausing to take in his mask. “Edgy?” She growled hungrily, sensing that this one might be a challenge.

“Wanna dance, hot stuff? Maybe see how cute you are under that mask...”

 

[Iasha Rha]

Tag: Darth Carnifex Darth Strosius Venn Kolis Azera
Engaging: Aliris Tremiru

While some were there to be tested for their first time.

Others had come to observe on behalf of their masters: Iasha was there on behalf of her master, and the organisation in which she had been inducted, to seek out and test prospective acolytes for a special training programme. To serve the Pale Assassin and the dark side of the Force as the final bastion of the Sith against the forces that would snuff them out.

Iasha knew that she was there as an observer, a future teacher, and if need be, a rock on which the weak would dash themselves to pieces. So she followed her master as they watched the bloodshed, keeping to the shadows.

She watched, until she saw one.

"Alina."

Her breath caught in her mouth. With an exchange of glances, she begged to be excused. It was granted. The twi'lek grabbed the rail of their platform and jumped. The rush of wind caught her cloak as she dropped down into the carnage and pointed at the blonde woman currently kicking a crushed body.

One hand went to the sabre-hilt from her hand. It was familiar in her grip, but its crystal had yet to fully accept her. Even so, it was most often on board with violence,

"Alina Tremiru!" The red twi'lek barked. "Alina!"

Rage sparked in her, seeking to ignite like a fire.

 

[Darth Ophidia]

​

New children of the dark.

Darth Ophidia watched from above as the hopefuls of the Sith were set on each other. The violence that surged through the room only helped to fuel the dark side of the Force. The scent of blood and sweat oozed up from the struggles below and blended with the scent of absolute terror from those whose minds could not fathom it.

Her unblinking eyes appeared, at first, not to focus on any one of the initiates, but seemed bore into the ground like a drill as she felt and perceived it all at once. Many a young Sith started their path that day, among the blood and refuse of the dying and the dead. She beheld them with a steady stare.

That was, until her eyes suddenly flicked over to look at Darth Strosius

Her faithful apprentice.

Ah, such potential, but at the same time, something kept him from breaking his chains. She hoped that the threat on his life would help break some of the links, but there was much work to be done before he could be reckoned as a true Sith. They had time still. The Sith were patient, if nothing else. She would bide her time and push him steadily toward the precipice.

He was being challenged now, and Darth Ophidia watched.

She wanted to see how he would fare.

From above, she watched, eyes like glowing embers looking down on a man in a mask, judging his worth.

 

[Aliris Tremiru]

The dull thuds of her heavy kicks came to an end as she heard a name get called out through the crowd. Alina. Alina. Rage flooded her mind as she turned. Wild, hate filled eyes sought the one that dared to call her sisters name. It wasn't hard to find her. A Twi'lek. Iasha Rha wasn't someone Isari knew, but clearly the Twi'lek knew her sister. Was it a rival that wanted her sister's head?

No, a rival would of known Alina was gone.

Isari raised a hand and immediately brought it down. Whoever this was, whatever their connection to her sister, Isari hated them. They were as much to blame. They had to be. The Force bent to her rage, rending the air as she tried to catch the red woman in her grip. To force her to her knees. Crush her. "I don't know who you are, but I'm going to kill you." Her saber ignited as she started to walk towards the Twi'lek.

"Then, I'm going to kill Alina."

 

[Kesran Opadal]

Location: Training Courtyard, Temple of Magnus
Tags: Darth Carnifex Aliris Tremiru Iasha Rha Darth Strosius Darth Ophidia



Kesran walked through the archway into the training facility's main sector.

He had been sent by his new master Ulrich . Though he was far more experienced and talented than most of the acolytes here, there were a few who could be a match. Besides, his master couldn't teach him the more direct abilities that come with traditional Sith training. When they heard that the former Emperor Carnifex was holding the training, his master sent him immediately. Kesran was hoping to gain any knowledge, skills, or experience he could get. Anything would help on his road to becoming a full Sith.

The Overseers had informed Kesran that because of his former status and current social placement, that he would be given a large black cloak, similar to the other moderately skilled Acolytes. The pathetic slaves were in the middle of the courtyard, already slaying each other in droves.

Within moments, he realized that this wasn't just a cordial training session. This was a pit of death, an orgy of violence, meant to weed out the unworthy and destroy the weak.

There were a lot of uninitiated slaves among them, far below Kesran and his power level. For a moment, he felt insulted that they would include him in this. He had been an apprentice under Two Dark Lords of the Sith and now learning under a prominent Sith Knight. He had believed that such training and slaughter was below him. However, when he realized this was a chance to show the great Sith in attendance some of his immense true potential, he no longer scoffed at the thought of being thrown into a death pit. Sure he still despised it, but what choice did he have. He might as well impress as best he could.

This type of training, the Sith training of pain, was one had been taught by his first master. Though that was really all his first teacher was able to teach him before he abandoned him. Kesran could still feel his master's force lightning course through him, the pain and suffering he endured. He then remember how he fought through the pain to his master's slight surprise and broke free from the force hold. The pain had made him stronger, whether he admitted it or not. In that case alone, this training would give him a good chance to become even stronger, for all Sith training did in his eyes.

He made his way to the left side entrance to the courtyard, where walls and energy beams lined the perimeter. He looked in and saw the mayhem commencing in full. Above in the viewing gallery, several Sith Lords and their personal apprentices watched on.

Then all of the sudden, he felt a presence invade his mind. Being exceptionally gifted with the force, he tried to repel it but there was no point. A second later, Kesran realized whose presence it was and soon relented. The voice from such a presence encouraged him and surely all of the others down at the courtyard level as well. Encouraging death, slaughter, rage. Kesran was able to prevent the controlling powers of the presence, but it was very difficult. Then he strengthened and whipped his head towards the direction of the one projecting the presence. The former Emperor himself. For some reason, Kesran began to glare at the all powerful Sith Demigod, believing that showcasing his strength and proving that he could somewhat withstand the invading thoughts of his presence, would impress him. If anything it would make him stand out. A few moments later and the presence subsided, and now Kesran was more primed then ever to get this training underway.

Kesran did believe in the whole kill or be killed thing, to fight through pain, but he also believed that if a Sith can't make allies, then they won't be much of a Sith for long. He soon spotted an Acolyte who he had seen a few times, either on the battlefield or in various training academies. They also helped quell some insurgents on Trian many rotations ago. Darth Strosius .

He made his way around the perimeter, but before he could greet Haxim, a little pink minx strode up to the Acolyte. Kesran decided to let him deal with that one, she seemed especially......unique. Hopefully he would join up with the fellow youngster later on.

He also soon glanced into the fray and spotted someone who he thought he knew.

Alina? She looked like her, but the force was conveying him something else. He had been around her enough to know her presence. This wasn't it, but still felt similar in many ways. He was going to make his way over to her, but she then jumped into the pit. He then watched as an apprentice jumped down from the gallery and into the pit, all in an effort to confront the other acolyte. Both the Twi'lek and human began to charge at each other. Kesran best stay away from then. He continued to patrol the outside border of the courtyard. A few slaves attempted to flee past him, but he crushed each one with ease.

Then a moment later, the gap in the wall in he was standing in started to decrease. The stone walls began to converge together very quickly. Kesran now had little choice. Either jump up into the gallery and possibly be destroyed by a Sith Lord for disobeying the rules of the training session or move fully into the pit to bring upon more chaos. He chose the second option and stepped forward. At this point, he didn't even know if what he was doing was allowed or not, he just understood that these Lords wanted to see death. Kesran would give it to them.

As his lightsaber hung on his belt, Kesran soon used the force to pull a poleaxe to his grip. Once acquired, he began carving a path of blood, whipping and swinging the durasteel poleaxe through dozens of pathetic slaves, using the force to augment his psychical might and agility.

The chaos of the pit had fully commenced.

 

[Darth Empyrean]

The guards Maliphant brought in were decked in sophisticated amalgmations of technology and sith alchemy, carrying with them lightsabers and pikes, genetically augmented to stand tall and foreboding. They were in every essence an intimidating facade for anyone less than a Sith Lord; but he lacked true depth of understanding. Maliphant had made them what they are, he did not allow them to become something great - because if he had spent the time and effort to do so, he would only have a dozen dissapointments rather than trained killers.

None could carry his will, so he came at the behest of Darth Carnifex to sus out another possible candidate. An apprentice, someone to ensure that all Maliphant knew and understood could be passed on - in a way that would mean something far more grand than anything he could conjure up. When the guards parted from their lord, he would find his way near Darth Ophidia crossing his arms as he stood along side her.

"How fares your young disciple?", he said cordially. Ophidia and him were not in the same realm of competition - their spheres of influence rarely treaded upon another, so he could find some safety in discussing openly with her his own plans. That comfort came with the benefit of her, hopefully, honest opinion.

A single acolyte seemed to catch his eye - amidst the disgusting pit beneath him. Slaves killed slaves, but only a few seemed to grasp the reality of what they were doing. Maliphant couldn't stand the idea of a slave who's entire being revolved around insane murder - and one of the few who didn't ooze such rampant insanity was Venn Kolis . He watched him strangle the life from a woman before he pointed at him for Ophidia to notice;

"I believe that one has caught my attention."​

 

[Darth Strosius]

Location: Training Yard
Equipment: Lightsaber
Tags: Venn Kolis / Aliris Tremiru / Iasha Rha / Kesran Opadal
Engaging: Azera
-----------------------------------------

The sounds of combat seemed to grow more desperate and savage the closer that he got to the site of action. Of course it would, as by now the majority of the weaker fighters had more than likely been cut down already. Now the more experienced and deadly would be remaining, and whoever was entering late like he was of course. Couldn't forget about the second wave after all.

And I've already stepped in something dead...joy.

Alisteri didn't bother some sort of grand or showy entrance, mostly due to the fact that he wasn't too intent on attracting attention. With any luck he could just move along the outside and pick off someone here or there while the main brawl raged on. Unfortunately, someone else had a different idea. As he stepped away from the entrance and glanced around the yard, he caught sight of a...well something he hadn't seen before. But whatever it-she was, she was certainly heading his way.

His gaze swept over the approaching figure, idly noting how much she stood out amidst everyone else. Other than the height, horns, and color, there was also something dangerous in her stride.

Oh...and she can kill with her eyes. By shooting lasers out of them. I'll have to look into that little detail later. The Acolyte spared little thought for the now deceased fighter that his apparent opponent stepped over, he was far too busy reaching down to pluck the lightsaber from his hip. At least he seemed to be a bit better armed, but that meant little when factoring in potential skill and training, and eye lasers, but there was always a chance for him to be senior in that regard.

And then she spoke, and he felt his gaze narrow at the comments. Clearly I need to start wearing a proper cloak...and a second mask just in case.

"I don't find very much to admire in neither slaughter nor dancing..." He inclined his head as he ignited his weapon and gave her a mock bow. "...but I think I'm going to enjoy sending you back to wherever you crawled out of, Pinky."

 

[Venn Kolis]

Onlookers: Darth Empyrean Darth Ophidia Darth Carnifex
In the Pit: Darth Strosius Aliris Tremiru Iasha Rha Azera
The Immediate Problem: Kesran Opadal

Yanking the little knife from his shoulder, Venn looked up and registered a crowd of slaves scrambling past him. They seemed to be escaping a blur of motion and blood a few yards away. He struggled to his feet, ignoring the corpse underneath him. His own blood stained the rags he wore, his feet were bare and bruised. When he managed to register the person coming towards him, his blood ran cold. He understood why they ran. This one was different.

Swinging a steel poleaxe in a mad whirlwind of death, he moved with an inhuman speed. Bone and sinew cleaved as the screams of slave after slave in his path were cut short. To flee only seemed to invite quicker destruction; there was no escaping the reach of that weapon coupled with such frightening momentum. And he was headed right in Venn's direction.

Venn noticed a silver hilt swinging from the man's belt as he worked. That was a lightsaber, a force-user's weapon. If he wasn't bothering to use it, then all this was just a distraction to him. The other bullies, the ones in robes, hid fear behind bravado and cruelty. But this man had nothing to hide. He was confident in his belonging. In his power.

You could see it in his face, that face that couldn't have been more than a few standard years older than Venn's. He knew he was surrounded by lesser beings. His sword remained on his hip because he wasn't like them. He was special, of the chosen few. A prodigy.

And in a few seconds, he was going to prove it to Venn with violence.

He was faster, and much stronger. Fight and flight were hopeless. But to survive can be a very different task than defeating an enemy. As the acolyte closed in on Venn, his poleaxe raised, Venn seized the arm of a sensible slave who was attempting to flee the slaughter. Using the poor sap's weight against him, he pivoted to spin the slave in a circle and send him tumbling into the awful swing of the steel blade.

There's no way I can beat you, he thought to himself calmly, and I can't run forever. But maybe I can entertain you.

The acolyte continued in his unflinching march, Venn backing away at a casual walk, just out of reach, not wanting to inspire a chase. The blade of the poleaxe was hard to follow, as the swings were so quick. But watching his hands, instead of the weapon itself, made it easier to predict. He was going to chop again-

Those eyes passed over Venn once more, those eyes that didn't see him any more than you see an individual insect as you burn the nest. Wrestling with an older Rodian for a few seconds, Venn managed to shove the elder into the path of the axeblade ahead of him. The weapon went straight through the man in a burst of green blood, and on to Venn, who stepped inside the swing. The blade missed him, but the weapon's solid steel shaft still clubbed him in the side. Lifted off his feet, he flew a fair distance before crashing back down.

Lying on the floor, Venn groaned softly as he glared up at Kesran Opadal with a cold hate. There, you hit me. Probably broke a rib. Happy? Or do I have to get up and keep dancing?

 

[Sisserith]

​

Location: Training Courtyard - Temple of Magnus
Equipment: Vibroblade
Tag: Darth Carnifex Aliris Tremiru Venn Kolis Darth Empyrean Darth Ophidia Iasha Rha Kesran Opadal
Direct Engagement: Darth Strosius

"I don't find very much to admire in neither slaughter nor dancing..." He inclined his head as he ignited his weapon and gave her a mock bow. "...but I think I'm going to enjoy sending you back to wherever you crawled out of, Pinky."

Taking in his red lightsaber with enraptured, luminescent eyes, Azera’s thoughts immediately traveled to claiming the weapon for herself. Naturally, that would demand killing or at the very least, defeating this strange, masked Sithling, who she pegged as being among the powerful of the Acolytes, slaves, prisoners, hopefuls, and various other minions fighting within the courtyard. That would be a tall order, as would surviving, as Azera didn’t think her vibroblade would hold up long against the crackling plasmatic blade of a lightsaber. Nevertheless, the Seseli had not anticipated surviving the Exclusion and yet…

Here she was.

“Oh so not edgy, just...shy! But, you still have a bite! Dawww, you're adorable~” Azera quipped with a playful smile. “Now, I really have to see what’s under that helmet...” The Seseli purr-growled, as she settled into a low Ataru stance, with her blade held almost perpendicular to her legs, kept low to the ground in a ready position. With her natural speed and athleticism, Ataru was the ideal form for her, but it was evident that the Seseli was still very much a learner in the art of bladed combat.

“I’m Azera, by the way.” She continued. “Does tall, dark, and shy have a name or does he simply go by...mysterious?” The Seseli shuddered playfully at the word, licking her lips with predatory, impish hunger as she did.

Seeing one of the Acolytes ( Kesran Opadal ) carve a bloody path through a veritable swathe of desperate slaves and prisoners with a massive poleaxe, Azera could truly taste the blood in the air, savoring the familiar ambience of death which reminded her of the Exclusion. However, in this enclosed space, the aura was far more pungent, almost intoxicating to the senses, even to one such as her who had been born into such gratuitous, ritualized slaughter.

For a few moments Azera was content to size up and assess her opponent, gauging his strengths and weaknesses as he would do to her. No doubt, he had already taken her eyes into account. However, with her opponent being so tall, dark, and mysterious, it was difficult for Azera to get a read on him. His strengths weren’t obvious like hers were, especially since he had already seen her kill one of the prisoners.

In order to survive, she’d have to play a different card.

Azera’s first move was a test, a probing, low-commitment thrust with her vibroblade in her left hand, aimed for the masked man’s lower left thigh, as that was one of the few places she could reach without jumping. If she got lucky, she might hit an artery, but otherwise, the attack was meant to gauge his style and possibly create an opening...

 

[Darth Ophidia]

Darth Empyrean Darth Strosius Azera Venn Kolis Kesran Opadal Darth Carnifex​

Darth Ophidia did not move her eyes from her acolyte and his struggle, but watched him like a hawk-bat watches for prey. It was uncertain if she could hear him over the din of the slaughter, but the way her presence radiated over them was near tangible. She was like a beacon of darkness illuminating one burgeoning conflict. The sensation would perhaps be familiar to Alisteri as she had lended him strength before, but this time her focus did not aid or impair him.

It just was just present, like a glass of water just out of reach.

The only thing that made the focus weaken was the approach of another master. Her hand casually ran over her sleeve as Maliphant approached, but fell back into its position when he spoke. While did not turn or tense up, her presence was like that of a coiled viper. It was true that their domains rarely clashed. If anything, one most often supported the other.

She took a moment to look away from her apprentice and acknowledge Maliphant.

"He has spent too much time among soldiers and too little among his peers." Her eyes turned back down to the pit "He has much to learn."

The ashen woman's head cocked lightly to the side as the pale man pointed out a hopeful that had caught his attention, and winced when that very man was struck to the ground by another of the acolytes.

"Are you certain?" Her hairless eyebrows furrowed "Well he does show a certain will to live."

She looked to Maliphant again, then down at Alisteri. Her attention had never fully left him, even though she had conversed with Maliphant and observed the others.

 

[Iasha Rha]

If it was not Alina, then who? Alina had never spoken much about family, even though her name was supposedly worth something. Had someone cloned her? Had she forgotten? No, this one knew who Alina was, and she was almost as angry as Iasha.

"Well then why the feth do you look like her?!"

Iasha felt the pressure around her. The sensation was all too familiar as old fears of being buried alive awakened in her mind. But fear lead to anger, anger led to hate, and hate was the path to the dark side. With a short and primal scream she pushed back against the hold and advanced at Isari. The lightsaber in her hand ignited in furious red, spitting and roaring in her hand.

"Where is she!?"

Iasha raised the sabre and launched herself at Isari with a lunge and a broad, one handed sweep of her sabre.

"Tell me, filth!"

Aliris Tremiru

 

[Darth Empyrean]

The Sith Lord seemed unphased by the failings of the acolyte - instead he simply nodded and repeated his assessment;

"I find it is not always the brutes who come from pedigree that have the best prospects, despite early successes.", he mused to himself.
​

He watched as the boy looked up to the one who had hit him, but at the distance Maliphant couldn't read his lips. It reminded him of his own journey into Sithhood - from the low confines of a slave under an abusive Sith Lord who the Galaxy had forgotten. One who he would kill, would he simply have found her.​

​

"When I was but a nameless slave, so many years ago, I was tasked with defeating another. She was a trained Zabrak, and by defeating her I would impress upon the Lord who had bought me - Darth Imperia. I failed, and for my failure was cast into the role of a mere toy - to be thrown around her social circle and do tricks."​

​

"What Imperia failed to see was my potential, something many struggle to find in their choosings. The Galaxy has forgotten her now, but they still fear me; and I have yet to peak. For that reason I learned that it is potential one should look for in an apprentice, not pure skill or blood."

"Wouldn't you agree?", Maliphant said with a glance to his fellow Dark Council member.​

​

Darth Ophidia​

 

[Darth Strosius]

Location: Training Yard
Equipment: Lightsaber
Tags: Venn Kolis / Aliris Tremiru / Iasha Rha / Kesran Opadal
Engaging: Azera
-----------------------------------------

He felt an eye twitch and idly felt the urge to choke something as she spoke again, the purr causing a small sneer to arise on his face for a moment. He hesitated to reply at all, almost content with just getting on with it and trying to kill his opponent. I wonder how many kicks it would take to punt this tiny...Devaronian maybe?...thing, out into space... Any hesitation he had was long gone by now, evidently he would be adding to the chaos and combat of the blood-soaked training yard after all.

Not only that, he had a feeling that he would halfway enjoy it too. If only so that I won't have to hear her speak to me like this.

"Haxim, Alisteri Haxim. Call me whatever, just never look at me like that again." Being eyed up and down was a strange new feeling, and for the moment all it inspired in Alisteri was disgust and rage. The masked man didn't waste any further time slipping into his own stance, eager to parry or dodge whatever came his way before he went in for the kill.

He held his lightsaber low and across his body, the tip of the blade pointing towards the ground as it guarded him. Normally he would have held it a bit higher, or would even just strike first, but he was wary of how she would defend herself. The eyes and vibroblade alone were enough of a concern, even if he could just bash through the latter with enough swings, but he had no idea what else she could have at the ready. For all that he knew she had a spare blaster tucked away...somewhere.

When she struck, his immediate reaction was to leap back a good few steps so that he was just out of range. Gaining distance didn't do much in this situation like it usually would, given that she wasn't exactly the easiest to hit, and more than likely all it would do was get him another opponent.

No running about and striking occasionally like he preferred, far too much trouble with the rest of the yard in chaos as it was. Can't back up too much, regardless of how open it is, so the only way is forward then. Alisteri tightened his grip on his weapon and readjusted his footing to press back forward, thrusting his lightsaber straight ahead as if he intended to impale his opponent right through her middle.

 

[Aliris Tremiru]

"She looks like me!" It wasn't necessarily true, given Alina was the older sibling, but that's just how the Tremiru family was. All the girls looked the same. Same as her mother, grandmother, great and so on. Isari knew the truth behind it. The saber she held whispered the truth, as it always did to the next heir of the family. She flicked around her weapon to catch Iasha Rha 's strike. There was a large amount of wasted movement in the action alone, showing just how much she fumbled with the lightsaber. But she none the less caught it, her yellow eyes wide with fury.

"She's GONE." Isari screamed. All of her hate for her sister, her anguish at being reduced to this level, fighting for a place that was hers by birth, released at once. The world around her shook, blasting away loose rubble and even other acolytes that had steered away from the growing fight between the blond and the red skinned Twi'lek.

 

[Darth Carnifex]

The Dark Side was singing.

As were the Stygian Zealots, their throaty hymns ringing out like a chorus of locusts. The scene down below in the fighting pit was one of carnage and desperation. Blood slicked the reflective metal floor in copious amounts, the rampant use of archaic bladed weaponry resulting in grievous injury and even more gruesome deaths. Those who could not adapt quickly enough had already met their ignoble ends, but those who had managed to grab hold of their hatred and their anger fought bitterly to merely survive.

There were those among the living that attempted to hide among the dead, they met their end by the guards above who fired down with slugthrowers whenever their visors detected life among the dismembered dead. Those who attempted to climb out of the pit were put down in a similar fashion, the barking crackle of a slugthrower rifle signaling to all that another of their number had been mercilessly butchered.

Above it all, the twin Dark Lords watched impassively as beings fought, killed, and died. Carnifex saw those beneath Him as little more than meat, bodies to be shuffled along to ground down in whatever theater of war the Dark Lord prosecuted at any given moment. Beyond that, the best they could hope to serve under His watch was a beaten thrall; a minion to be used as necessary. Demiurge saw them in a much different light, his vibrant eyes alight with the possibilities.

Demiurge looked around the fighting pit, picking out those who had shown the most desperation in surviving regardless of the odds stacked against them. Guards singled out those indicated by Demiurge, removing them from the pit and placing them into a deep sleep before transporting them elsewhere.

What Demiurge had in store for them, only the pair of living gods could say with any certainty.

Darth Strosius | Venn Kolis | Aliris Tremiru | Azera
Iasha Rha | Darth Ophidia | Kesran Opadal | Darth Empyrean ​

 

[Sisserith]

​

Location: Training Courtyard - Temple of Magnus
Equipment: Vibroblade
Tag: Darth Carnifex Darth Strosius Aliris Tremiru Venn Kolis
Direct Engagement: Darth Strosius

The throaty chants of the Stygian Zealots were intoxicating to the tiny Seseli, their deep, dark songs a fitting melody to the death transpiring around her. However, the deadly hum of the masked Acolyte’s fiery blade demanded most of her attention, but the hymns at the very least served as a tune for her dance. As the Acolyte stepped out of her blade’s reach, Azera reset her stance, eyes flaring wide as her opponent came back, his lightsaber aimed in a vicious thrust for her chest. Azera could only step back in turn, harnessing powerful digitigrade legs to carry her backwards, while attempting to bat the lightsaber down.

“A man after my own heart~” Azera said playfully as she stepped back, metaphorical hearts forming in her eyes as she did. “Do you hear the music? That’s our song, Alisteri.” She continued, before suddenly exploding forward in a powerful horizontal leap, propelled ahead by powerful legs. As she did, her vibroblade in her left hand slashed in a vicious arc, aimed to cut across or potentially, through the Acolyte’s lower torso, to separate his legs upper body from his lower.

“Though I might prefer metal instead…” The Seseli said as she landed, roughly five meters from her original position, at her opponent’s left side.