Populate Con Vibra | (SO Populate of Bordal/Manas)

[Aspect of Resolve]

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Jutrand​

903 ABY​

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The death of Darth Ophidia at the hands of her apprentices and the subsequent, yet admittedly fairly brief, infighting between the members of the Tsis’Kaar that obeyed the orders of her heirs and those who remained loyal to the Pale Assassin had heralded the end of the Ouroboros Crisis in most respects. By now the remaining pockets of resistance and holdouts had largely either surrendered to new masters or had been destroyed, ushering in peace within the Sith Order’s borders once more. The Tsis’Kaar, at least as it was, was no more.​

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It hadn’t taken long for a celebration of the ends of hostility to be arranged, a grand festival across Jutrand and many other Sith worlds to promote and solidify the victory and new unity of the Sith Order over their rebellious factors. Much like the end of the war with the Kainites in the past, however, there were still matters yet to be settled.​

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The Tsis’Kaar had fractured with the death of its founder and while much of its forces had been reincorporated back into the Sith Order proper, no one master could be agreed upon. Some voices, both within and without the Tsis’Kaar, protested the claims of the two heirs of Darth Ophidia and many assassins and sorcerers found new masters to pledge their services to. Some even became more independent and declared their loyalty to the Emperor and the Sith Order as a whole rather than one specific Sith.​

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While the Tsis’Kaar issue is still to be debated, however, the eyes of the Sith Order have turned outward once more and eye our neighboring systems and worlds hungrily. The time of strife is over, the time to grow is now.​

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Objective 1: Serpent or Hydra​

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Darth Ophidia’s death had been the final nail in the coffin of the Tsis’Kaar as one united threat, mainly because her true successor had been left unclear. While there would be splinters, offshoots, and some cases of the former followers of the Pale Lady finding leaders both new and old, the bulk of the Tsis’Kaar remnants would fall under the sway of her two apprentices.​

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Lord Malum of House Marr, the younger dashing apprentice, is seen by many of the Sith Order’s upper echelon as the preferred heir to the Tsis’Kaar. While he had been loyal to his master until his hand was forced against her, his charisma and the legacy of the Marr bloodline endeared him to many officials across the Sith government. The same cannot be said for his counterpart, however. Darth Strosius, the elder apprentice and a newly self-declared Sith Lord, has gone from a somewhat known and semi-reputable Sith to an infamous warlord in the eyes of many officials and Sith within the order’s ranks. Yet, his efforts to reassure the wider Sith Order of his loyalty have been, begrudgingly, accepted.​

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The fate of the Tsis’Kaar going forward is likely to be decided as the two heirs of Darth Ophidia meet with the newly established Assembly to discuss the formal reintegration of the Tsis’Kaar into the Sith Order once more, as well as the general rebuilding plans that have yet to be formalized.​

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Objective 2: Supplication​

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For most, however, the games of politics and intrigue are not played in the Assembly House, and an excuse to celebrate is more than warranted after yet another civil war comes to an end. Servants go about expertly carrying towers of alcohol and exotic foods, all the while anyone, that is anyone converges in small groups, their discussions ranging from idle small talk to plotting and scheming. Ivory towers rise out from the ground beneath them, marble pillars testament to what glories the Sith can build if they achieve unity, holding up a ceiling that shines dotted with crystalline chandeliers, with a balcony that gazes down into the arena below.​

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It is a colourful bunch, from mighty warlords to tactile politicians as well as slithering nobles and some of the most powerful Sith that yet live. This might not be a traditional battlefield, but caution is certainly wanted, for amongst a group a simple party has every opportunity to come to blows.​

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Still, this is an opportunity to make allies and friends, an opportunity to gain favour and reward, or simply an opportunity to partake in a drink and watch the crowds.​

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Objective 3: Blood Sport​

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For those filled with wroth and a taste for blood, all Sith really, but specifically, for the ones unable or unwilling to control their baser urges, the arena gave them exactly what they wanted. A blood sport for those who watched above on the balcony, the sun beat down heavily on the warriors, chiseled and sculpted as those who would bring fear to the rest of the galaxy.​

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Right now though, they would face no Jedi, they would face each other, the strong would be honed in their skills and talents, while the weak would eat the dirt, bending their knees to those superior, or a meal for the carrion who circled ahead.​

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Yet, it may be an opportunity to prove yourself, there would be a boon of the victor’s chosen, it only required proving yourself above all others. Or else take this as an opportunity it was, relieve some stress, or bring some particularly annoying peers down a notch. Regardless of why you fight, just remember to put on a good show for the cameras.​

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[Darth Strosius]

Objective: Serpent or Hydra
Equipment: Lightsaber, Sword, Dagger, Robes
Tags: Darth Malum of House Marr / Open!

Of all the hardships and trials that Darth Strosius had endured in his life, he felt as though this one would be among the worst of them. Months after the death of his master had been spent cleaning up her legacy. Wiping out or subjugating Tsis'Kaar holdouts and agents, bringing her hidden caches into light, and most disgustingly of all having to put on a show of 'remorse' and 'loyalty' just so that he wasn't executed alongside the more stubborn remnants of his master's servants.

Careful shows of strength and promises of loyalty, displays of assistance and submission, all to culminate here. Where he would have to weather the cries and insults of the ignorant and leeching members of this so called 'Assembly' that Empyrean had formed. It disgusted him to his core to suffer the insinuation that he had done something wrong. That he was the one needing correction when he had simply done his duty to the Sith.

Nevertheless, he had to keep up appearances. So he dug his fingers into his gloves, held his head high, and marched into the Assembly's meeting chamber without shame or hesitation. The masked man was adorned in his new robes but had chosen to forgo any sort of escort or guard. A display of diplomacy perhaps, or one of strength. Either way he made his way to one of the designated seats for himself and the Heir of Marr, and silently sat down as he prepared himself for what was to come.

 

[Dresden]

Objective: III
Equipment: As seen in bio
Tags: Open

For a long, long time he was alone. It was the only way to exist, outside of the strange company being around other killers offered. Business had been good, and his head remained attached to his neck; however, the promise of credits didn't quite interest Dresden, the audience of someone particular did. Someone of blood.

He had heard the stories, caught glimpses of victories won at the hands of the Sith. In some small part, it inspired a low-boiling jealousy; bitter anger that coated his tongue with something foul, an assault on his senses as someone whose entire life had been in the shadow of one he would call "cousin" were he to meet the man face-to-face.

For a long time, he had waited to be this close. But for now, the spilling of blood in a pit would have to suffice. His face would remain hidden, his armor would be a symbol of wrath, and his blade would be the only one to remain. If he could not draw attention from the darkness, he would do it in a way he understood well.

He would make his presence known. His rage would be felt, and they would be forced to look him in the eyes. He refused to die snuffed out in exile, and was willing to prove his place.

Lightsaber at the ready, Dresden steadied his breathing and kept a close eye on those around him. He would not fail.

He couldn't afford to.

 

[Teresa Zambrano | Darth Pellax]

Spoiler: Equipment

Outfit: Training Clothes, Dark Valkyrie Armor, Blood infused Liquid Laminanium Bracelets
Weapons: Svikin Hjörtu, Ancient Lightsaber, Old Lightsaber

Tags: Dresden
Objective: 3

Even in the training rooms of Malsheem, people had talked about this event weeks in advance, each of them interested in making bets as they catch it on the holonet or other sources. Teresa had a modicum of respect for those in that room, each of them had taken her one and even as groups while handicapped. They did not avoid the woman like the rest who wandered its endless halls, not that she really cared about it. Of course the event sounded like fun and exciting, the thought that there may be powerful opponents to unleash against was simply alluring. To the giant Epicanthix Valkyrie going was simply a no brainer.

The day of the event finally came, some of those able to get time off was here in the stands. Teresa was in the ready room placing parts of the armor onto her body and fastening the straps. The black plated metal made the accents of gold gleem. Her fingers ran across the texture of the armor feeling the scratches and wear building up after countless jobs under Carnifex. Her lips curved into a slight smile thinking about it whilst now double checking the straps. A whoosh and melodic hum of a door opening drew the woman's attention to the retainer entering.

"Mistress," the girl said walking further into the room. "I've come to inform you your name has been called. You are participating in the first round." Her hands scrunched the fabric of her clothes anxious of the place, but not once did her head drop to look at the floor and shrink.

"Unexpected, but a welcomed one. I hate to wait." Scooping the four lightsabers and hooking them to her belt she moved closer to her retainer. Teresa could feel the stir of emotion, heard it in the girls voice too. Her hand reached out and squeezed the girls shoulder. "Calm yourself down Komi, this is a fight, I may get injuries, I may not. Regardless this is fun for me unknowing what challengers are before me, besides pain feels amazing right." Her golden orange eyes surrounded by black seared into the soft green as Teresa smiled.

Looking up to her mistress and taking a deep breath she began to try her best to find her resolve in the blind faith in the woman who cared for her. She was not just any servent, but her lady's first retainer, her only one currently. Komi knew that, used it as a point of focus. Her eyes closed with a returning smile. "Okay, I will do my best for you." She said in sweet naivety.

Teresa continued taking a left towards what these people called the pit. The sunlight made it hard to see past the archway till she stepped out. "Now entering the field from the opposite side, Darth Pellax hailing from the Kainite." Her brow furrowed at the use of the title over her name, but quickly changed from the noise that came from the stands as it was thunderous. The womans figure certainly drew the eye and more so as her wings unfurled speeding wide to her sides. For Teresa however, her eyes had been reserved by the opponent stood at the other side of the field.

Using the fact her wings was spread her hands did a slight motion and used the force to lift the two sabers hung on the back and hid them amongst the feathers. A similar thing happened to the other two blades but they more noticeably hoverd below the woman's palms. The two old sabers snap hissed alive one with purple the other with red.

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[Darth Fury]

Jutrand
Assembly Hall
Objective I

The Gravus-class shuttle departed after it's occupants had exited. Darth Fury, wearing his more 'civilian' and high fashion attire was accompanied by his sister, Lord Furia, as well as two Legionaries from his forces to serve as honor guard. They were purely for show but were armed nonetheless.

As the newest member of the Assembly, Fury now sat within the Chamber of Nobility which was the section assigned for Governors such as he. Fitting, that he would be exiled from his homeworld and lose his royal inheritance only to rise up and reclaim his nobility elsewhere. All things come full circle eventually.

Either way, he was looking forward to entering Sith politics in full stride and become apart of the future of the Sith. While he was indeed mainly a warrior and conqueror at heart, his upbringing among high class nobility ensured he was always at least keen to political maneuvering. It was only a matter of learning who was who, backed by who and running what. If there was ever a more pyramid scheme truer than Sith society he hadn't found it yet.

Entering the grand hall itself, the Sith Lord stopped to glance around at the artwork and extravagance of it all. He had never seen such splendor before. Perhaps he had become too accustomed to military architecture that he had lost his palate for such displays. But he would soon grow to accept his new visuals. To become accustomed to being a leading Sith within this nation. Or at least, he hoped so. Fury entered his designated pod and took his seat. This was only the beginning. A new battlefield with new players and a different way of fighting.

He had built himself a mountain to claim; now he simply had to spend the rest of his life defending it.

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[Alina Tremiru]

Alina sat calmly near the back of the room. Her red eyes watched. Focused on Darth Strosius as he stepped into the room. This meeting, the choice of his fate after the betrayal against his own Master and the destruction of everything he'd strived to build under her. Well, not everything. In fact, that's what this whole meeting was about, wasn't it? Divvying up the corpse he'd brought to their feet.

She chuckled a little, draped one leg over the other as she leaned more comfortably back in her seat. The only retainer she had was the ever sharply dressed Sangnir that doubled as both her bodyguard and butler. No extravagant dress for her, no fancy medals or armor. Just her, draped in the typical black robe of the Sith. Waiting to see just how much of a portion she might be able to get at this feast.

Darth Fury

 

[Darth Kentarch]

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Objective 1: Door Number Three.
Location: The Slums of Jutrand

In the crepuscular haze of Jutrand's endless cityscape, where the neon lights bleed into the smog like a blaster burn, the slums whispered of darker things than poverty and crime. Here, amidst the labyrinthine alleyways where even the most desperate of souls dared not linger, a tale of old vengeance was about to unfurl.

The third service door of a dimly lit enclave, far removed from the grandiose halls where the Sith Assembly congregated, Darth Kentarch stood face to face with the three Sith Lords of the Tsis'Kaar. The air was thick with tension, the kind that precedes the turning of tides, and the room was saturated with the low hum of energies that only those intimate with the dark side could perceive.

The slums of Jutrand, a stark contrast to the opulence of the Sith palaces, served as the backdrop for their clandestine gathering. Here, amidst the decay and ruin, Kentarch saw opportunity where others saw only despair. The very stones of the meeting place seemed to resonate with the power of the dark side, echoing the downfall of the Tsis'Kaar and whispering of the potential rise of something new.

Kentarch's silhouette was outlined by the scant light that dared penetrate this place of secrecy. "Lords of the fallen Tsis'Kaar," he began, his voice a smooth baritone. "we stand upon the precipice of a new era. The civil war is over, and your fallen order will be divided up along with the spoils."

He paused, allowing his words to infiltrate the minds of his counterparts, gauging their reactions with a predator's focus. "I propose a new covenant," Kentarch continued, his hands spread wide, not in supplication but as a conjurer might before unveiling his craft. "A new powerbase, with roots deep in the dark soil of the Empire and branches that will reach into the very heart of the galaxy."

The game was one of delicate balance, where the wrong word was as deadly as the sharpest blade.

 

[Diodoros]

Location: Jutrand
Objective: 3
Tag: Teresa Zambrano | Darth Pellax | Dresden

It seems like there’s always something to celebrate among the Sith. It sounded like some civil war had ended that he knew nothing about was ending. Some important person was out of the picture. The vacuum left behind needed to be filled in. The only reason Diodoros knew even this much about the current state of Sith politics was because rumor had it that a certain somebody might be used to fill that vacuum. Darth Malum. An individual he encountered briefly who cosigned on his own Letter of Marque. Diodoros would very much enjoy having the endorsement of such a political figure to help legitimize his status as a privateer even more. He didn’t want to be seen as some desperate, run of the mill mercenary.

But there wasn’t really much the golden man could do other than give Darth Malum his thoughts and prayers in support of the new promotion. One thing he could do however, was fight. Diodoros was filled with glee upon learning that blood sports were a thing in Sith space. Which only further bridged them between the Hutts he adored so much. He wanted to fight some Sith. If he ever hoped to be able to best Jedi in combat, than he needed to at least prove himself against the next best thing.

Diodoros was eager to walk out into the arena and when it was his turn he did. Stepping in from another corner. He didn’t put much of any time into his preparations. The golden man didn’t even wear any armor. A bit of a subtle yet arrogant challenge to any foes that he was confident enough in himself not to need any. He could be bisected after getting torched and it wouldn’t kill him. “Coming in from the next corner, a popular champion from Hutt Space, Dio The Brass Beast.” The title made Diodoros scoff at him after hearing the announcer. His title was supposed to be ‘The Golden Giant’ but there was a mistranslation and the other one just stuck.

All that he had with him was a polearm. A humble Vibro-Glaive about as tall as himself made out Ultrachrome. He had a cocky grin plastered over his face as he glanced over at the other two in the arena, both of whom were in gloomy armor and armed with ‘beam-katanas’. The tall winged lady had some nice gold trims on her armor which Diodoros could certainly appreciate. “Lucky me, I might get to kill two birds with one stone.” He said with a humored tone before looking over to the smaller of his opponents. “Well… maybe only one bird, you don’t have wings.” It seemed like his little phrase didn’t quite work as well as he wanted. That was disappointing. ​

 

[Darth Kentarch]

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Objective 1: Door Number Three.
Location: The Slums of Jutrand

Kentarch's silhouette loomed large in the flickering darkness of the room, the meager light glinting off his eyes as he began to speak. His voice, filled with a cold fire, echoed off the walls, a solitary figure casting a vision that was as vast as the galaxy itself.

Yet he faced the question that sliced through the charged air like a vibroblade. The questioner, Darth Voren, stood with the hulking mass and unyielding posture of one who has seen—and delivered—countless deaths. His voice was a rumble of barely restrained power, skepticism etched into every syllable that dared challenge Kentarch's authority.

"Why should we, the remnants of the once-mighty Tsis'Kaar, bend the knee to you, Kentarch?" Voren's words bore the weight of the countless souls sent screaming into the void, "You who laid waste to our brethren, who turned the fortress of Tsis'Kaar on Fiviune into a mausoleum of our ambitions. Why should we follow the hand that dealt us such a grievous blow?"

The question hung between them, a challenge that could not go unanswered, for in the realms of the Sith, to show weakness was to invite death.

Kentarch let the silence linger, his gaze unflinching, understanding that this moment was the crucible in which his future command would be forged or shattered. Finally, he spoke, his voice a controlled blade of precision and conviction.

He took a step forward, the motion deliberate, commanding the space between them. "The Tsis'Kaar fortress fell because it had to, because the Empire demanded it, and because I was the instrument of its will. I did not relish the fall of our fellow Sith, but I did what was necessary. And it is this same resolve that will enable us to rise from the ashes, to forge a new power base within the Empire."

Kentarch's eyes locked onto Voren's, a silent war of wills raging in that brief eternity. "The past cannot be undone. We must look to the future. Alone, we are but whispers in the dark. Together, we can build something much greater."

The words hung heavy, an unspoken covenant of power and ambition, and Kentarch knew that his fate—and that of the three before him—would hinge not just on the strength of his argument, but on the unyielding will to bend the future to his vision.

 

[Darth Carnifex]

The Assembly had been convened, and the condemned were awaiting the verdict of their peers. None had been told of who was to exactly mete out such judgment, but all assumed it would be one of the Emperor's men; someone who had remained steadfast through the grimmest hours of the preceding conflicts. But, for a time, none appeared. The box where the seat of whom would deliver their sentence remained empty, while all the rest of the assembly had been filled. Guards did stand to attention next to the seat, but they were as still as statues and did not seem perplexed by the absence.

Then, a glimmer of light amidst the judge's seat. All seemed to distort like paint in water as space seemed to fold in on itself. From the yawning chasm emerged darkness in the shape of a man, one who towered over so many. Black robes draped down from His muscular form, spilling out around the seat and the adjourning floor. Errant sparks of blood-hued electricity snapped through the air, the entire assembly tense with the power that now billowed out from the rift.

When it closed and reality at last assumed something resembling normality, the judge had arrived. Undoubtedly, their identity would shock and alarm many in the gathering, for they could not believe that this would be the one to preside over this trial. But the Sith Lord merely smiled, like a predator staring down cornered prey, as the guards throughout the chamber began to bang their poled weapons against the ground in staggered waves. The ringing cascade filled the air until it was nigh deafening, and then it ceased all at once.

Darth Carnifex, Dark Lord of the Kainate, rose to His feet and all others were to rise with Him. His voice would ring out, loud and imperious.

"Hearken and witness now the consummation of justice, to be deliberated and meted out against those who have conspired against our holiest Sith Order. In my standing as the Custodian of the Holy Worlds and Conservator of the Ancient Scriptures, I, Darth Carnifex, shall chair this righteous tribunal."

All were bade to resume their seat, as did the Dark Lord. In the time since His arrival, all had been made to accommodate His prodigious size and stature. He leaned forward to look down at the two condemned, who were situated on a lower level than He. "I will hear the testimonies of the accused. I grant them privilege to speak without constraint, so that we may come to understand their transgressions."

Darth Strosius | Darth Malum of House Marr | Alina Tremiru | Darth Fury ​

 

[Alina Tremiru]

"Is it just their testimony we'll be hearing? Or all of the Lords that ruled over the Tsis'kar. There are many not present here, after all." Alisteri and Malum were the apprentices of the Snake, but they were far from the only Lords within the Tsis'kar. If there was anything she'd learned from Alisteri about his master, it was the undying resolve to ensure survival. There would be more. There were more.

But they were suspiciously absent.

Darth Fury | Darth Carnifex | Darth Malum of House Marr | Darth Strosius

 

[Dresden]

Objective: III
Equipment: As seen in bio
Tags: Teresa Zambrano | Darth Pellax | Diodoros

In some ways Dresden found his current predicament somewhat amusing, albeit absurd. What was a mere man to the likes of someone who could fly? Even still, his odds were somehow lessened even more by the added presence of a muscle-bound giant. With whichever way that was direct, he'd be at the mercy of either opponent. He couldn't allow himself to be the primary focus, at least not in the beginning, should Dresden manage to last that long.

"Didn't know statues could talk. How the Force works in mysterious ways." Dresden spoke aloud, his gaze hidden yet his eyes locked onto the golden brute, a soft yellowish glow beginning to consume his eyes, drifting them back over to the woman - a subtle admiration for the beauty of her wings struck, although fleeting as the armored young man spun the hilt of his lightsaber, extending double-sided blades, twirling them with considerable grace.

He walked forward slowly a few paces, a tinge of legitimate fear swimming somewhere in the back of his mind. "For House Marr." He stated plainly.

Shifting into a Juyo stance, Dresden watched once more for what his opposition would attempt. He was not the biggest contender here, yet he understood what it would take to show them his own special grit. A kind of tenacity most wouldn't still have in a situation such as this, though it still doesn't take away the fact of his mortality.

Where they would strike as predators, he would be that of opportunistic vermin.

 

[Teresa Zambrano | Darth Pellax]

Spoiler: Equipment

Outfit: Training Clothes, Dark Valkyrie Armor, Blood infused Liquid Laminanium Bracelets
Weapons: Svikin Hjörtu, Ancient Lightsaber, Old Lightsaber

Tags: Dresden | Diodoros
Objective: 3

Oh how amused she was that there was yet one more contender to fight as his name is called over the speakers. Her eyes had already seized up her competitors at a glance. The new one gested with confidence, this one she and an inkling of respect for. She could not help chuckling at his words while her eyes looked directly over this “Brass Beast”. Before she could utter her own words the smallest of contenders made his own quip. “My, Let's hope your skills do not fall shorter than your words. Though I doubt you have the skills to kill me, little man, I do expect a decent fight. Same for you… tiny guy.”

Teresa’s eyes snapped at Dresden who had already begun to move. There it was, that slight hesitation which made her smile. “Dull choice of words.” Teresa could not help but say it after hearing his word. It was better to fight for one's self than for another's. In heavy stomps the giant began her charge towards the Diodoros. Seeing Dresden was quick to drop into a stance Teresa shot the purple blade at the man as if a dart flew through the air, however at the last moment the blade shifted closest to the floor and slashing up and across.

A similar attack came for the brass beast as the red blade was the one sent for him, though with the twist. As that one blade flew at him, hidden behind was one of the blades hidden in her wings. When the lead blade made its slash, the second pulsed alive with a snap hiss; a black cored blade with a red glow could be seen slashing close to the Firrerreo’s feet.

In her charge it was clear that the woman's intention was to take the rough centre. It was her display of confidence that she was willing to take them at the same time. She was the blackened valkyrie, a warrior moulded by hands that are nothing less than divinity. Standing centre she readied herself to parry the first to attack with the last remaining blade on her, quickly it snapped to her palm snap hissing like the rest. Provided her blades had not been sent reeling off, they would shortly be returning close to her side.

​

 

[Diodoros]

Location: Jutrand
Objective: 3
Tag: Teresa Zambrano | Darth Pellax | Dresden

Listening to the man’s remark, Diodoros couldn’t help but laugh some after being called a statue. After hearing the winged woman call him “little man” he laughed even louder. “It’s not often that I get to be called little, so an amazon like you gets to be the exception.” He replied, clearly humored by their words. However the mention of House Marr piqued his interest.

Because of the woman’s more imposing statue his attention was naturally drawn to her over the armored man. Which worked out for him as she advanced closer to him, tossing a blade at both her opponents respectively. He noted that one of them was purple, which reminded him of a certain Jedi he encountered once before. He wouldn’t mind having a ‘beam-katana’ for himself if he could get his hands on one.

Seeing one of them fly towards him was a bit shocking however, making him grab his polearm in two hands to attempt to defend against it. His movement wasn’t quite fast enough as he barely intercepted it before it could take one of his arms off. It’s plasma blade gazed at some of his broad arm however, causing him to hiss through gritted teeth from the burning pain. For the second weapon he reflexively pulled his foot back to narrowly dodge it. That was an attack he certainly didn’t want to take.

Diodoros was certainly confident in his ability to be “unkillable” but that didn’t mean he was undefeatable. So losing a foot or a leg was a good way for him to lose this fight even if he didn’t die. His eyes narrowed in on the valkyrie, and his shiny golden skin took on a slightly more pale hue. Diodoros chased after the returning lightsabers towards her. Pulling his vibro-glaive back in both hands. His movements were painfully telegraphed, not that he cared. Once in range he performed an over committed swing of his weapon at her like a baseball bat.

Looks alone wouldn’t convey the real strength his body possessed. Should she get hit, intercept or block his attack, the force was more akin like it was coming from a roided out wookie than some typical world-class athlete. The kind of impact that would have a name flying off into the stratosphere. Which is why he did care about how obvious his attack was. Since in his past once his attack was in motion, and they couldn’t avoid it, their fate was sealed. However, his attention was clearly given over entirely to the winged woman right now. Almost as though he’d forgotten entirely of the armored clad man. Leaving him remarkably vulnerable…​

 

[Darth Malum of House Marr]

Objective 1: Serpent or Hydra

"Most know where their loyalties lie," An invisible voice spoke out next to Darth Strosius , before within an instant the masked figure of Darth Malum revealed himself, his face covered by the replica of Darth Marr's visage, coated with dried blood, designed to send an all too brazen message to the Assembly gathered before them, "Those that do not accept the natural and newly established order will have fled to the wind, or shall be hunted down as the traitors they are," It was an open question of whom they were traitors too, after all, they had willingly betrayed their Emperor for their Mistress and then found themselves flat-footed when their Mistress was betrayed by her heirs. Unfortunately for them, there would be little time left for them to make their choice, such was the necessity of all that would come.

Still, as his peripheral vision gazed at the edge of where they were assembled, he had to admit his curiosity that it seemed one person in particular was not here. He was not sure what Darth Tormenta had been personally up to during the Ouroboros Crisis, as their little rebellion was being called, but he knew the woman had been busy. Sometimes in his mind more a mercenary than a member of the Tsis'Kaar Order, it was still a fact that she had served their Mistress, which made her lack of presence here... disconcerting, to say the least.

Was she one to flee? One to be a diehard loyalist?

Or was she perhaps simply late?

The fact he could not say inexplicably contorted his hidden features, though he could admit to himself it was not exclusively that which had bestowed unto him a state of a tizzy, such honour would go to the surprise chair of the Assembly for this meeting, Darth Carnifex . Where in his heart there grew something black and fiery, in his mind, caution was the word of the day, though even he would have to admit calling it caution would be like calling retreat, a tactical withdrawal.

He had thought it would have been the Emperor who had presided over this.

In a manner of speaking, he supposed that was still true.

The question just was, what did this mean? Darth Empyrean held no fondness for him or his, but the fact remained that it had been with him, him and his wife, that the alliance had been orchestrated. Where the plot to bring the Tsis'Kaar to heel, had been... perhaps not engineered, but had been greenlit. Where he and Ali would bring the Tsis'Kaar back into the Sith Order, he would grant them clemency for the doomed rebellion.

A doomed rebellion that should never have happened, but a doomed rebellion nonetheless.

The urge to glare daggers down at the secret orchestrator of that rebellion was instead beaten by the hidden glare sent toward that Twice-Failed Emperor Darth Carnifex. Where Darth Empyrean was no friend of his, he could confidently say that Darth Carnifex was his foe.

Which made what would happen next, incredibly important.

Especially as a fragment in his mind whispered a song which was so sweet that he was tempted, so tempted, to bring it to fruition.

"Success or Death... strike him down from where he stands... make him fall upon his knees... a worthy heir."

His teeth ground down bone, as the melody played, interrupted by the self-righteousness of a man who had not even taken part in the Crisis. But this was the dance that they played, and if they wished to succeed, they would have to dance well.

"I... thank the chair for the time given, though I must confess my confusion at the proceedings. It is by our hand that the Tsis'Kaar were brought back to heel, to return to their loyal and able service to the Sith Empire, and it is by our hand that the... traitor, Darth Ophidia , was felled upon Fiviune. The helmet I bear now even has proof of my claims. So, I must request understanding," His eyes blazed behind the mask, every pause in his speech a moment of fire as he reconciled his emotions which so begged to leak out of his body, "For what crimes are we accused today?"

Alina Tremiru Darth Fury

 

[Darth Strosius]

Objective: Serpent or Hydra
Equipment: Lightsaber, Sword, Dagger, Robes
Tags: Darth Malum of House Marr / Darth Fury / Alina Tremiru / Darth Carnifex

The tense silence before the Assembly meeting began was, oddly enough, almost relaxing. For a moment one could revel in being amongst their peers, taste the power in the room that seeped from the Sith present, if they were not the ones at the center of attention at least. The masked man felt isolated despite the form of Malum suddenly appearing at his side and the eyes that peered at them from the crowd. Some of them were more familiar than others, and those were the ones whose stares he avoided entirely.

Unfortunately, any semblance of calm and control fled his body the moment that the 'judge' revealed himself. 'Kaine' a voice that did not belong to him whispered in the back of his mind and drew forth glimpses of memories that were just as foreign as the voice itself. But his own flash of anger scattered what would have been a distracting hijacking of his internal thoughts, the ghost cast aside as a wave of wrath swept over his form and leaked from his being as his gloved hands clenched into the armrests of the chair. "Carnifex." An almost feral noise somewhere between a growl and a hiss escaped him as he uttered the name, two sounds only audible to Malum given their proximity.

As if the insult of this 'trial' existing at all hadn't been enough, the Twice-Failed Emperor who betrayed the Sith on many more occasions than they had been sent to judge them. What a disgrace. Thankfully Malum was quick to respond and begin his testimony, Darth Strosius some much needed time to try and reign in his emotions before they got the better of him. The keyword being 'try' of course, his fingers still twitched as he internally debated how quickly he could shower the judge in a hail of Force Lightning that would be enough to end him.

Unfortunately, Malum closed his initial statement with a question. A question that his fellow former apprentice was all too happy to answer. "There is nothing to accuse us of!" He rose from his seat in an instant as his voice echoed across the meeting chamber, filled to the brim with a passionate fire much like Malum's had been only a moment before. "Unlike others in this very room," The statement was vague but his masked yet furious gaze that hadn't left Carnifex since the other Sith took the stand made it clear exactly who he meant in particular. ", myself and Malum of House Marr have never once drifted or waned in our service to the Sith. Our participation in the Tsis'Kaar's rebellion was no different."

Finally Darth Strosius seemed to remember that there were indeed others in the room, as his gaze tore away from the judge to instead roam the crowd. "Were we not the ones to end the Pale Assassin and ensure that the majority of the Tsis'Kaar forces stood down? Was it not our efforts and plans that drew the Tsis'Kaar into open battles rather than waging a war in the shade? Had Darth Ophidia been allowed to conduct her rebellion without our input the Tsis'Kaar would still be active and fighting, striking from hidden redoubts whenever they pleased. This very meeting is only possible because of our actions." Bold words and yet ones that did hold truth to them.

"Were it not for our involvement then the Ouroboros Crisis would still be ongoing and would be all the more deadly. Not to mention our great efforts in ensuring the remnants of the Tsis'Kaar that rejected our order to stand down were put to the sword." Months of hunting and skirmishing had seen the last vestiges of the Tsis'Kaar either surrendered or executed, as was promised. "We have no transgressions to speak of." His gaze drifted back to Carnifex and narrowed once more, a silent challenge from a brash and out of his depth new lord.

 

[Dresden]

Objective: III
Equipment: As seen in bio
Tags: Diodoros | Teresa Zambrano | Darth Pellax

The stage was now set, and the actors were in motion. Dresden began a full sprint, darting away from the oncoming streak of purple; however, he was not anticipating the direction of the blade itself. In a moment of mostly intense anxiety and not wishing to be sliced up by a lightsaber, Dresden brought up his own weapon to deflect the lightsaber back towards the woman with considerable force.

Advancing now would only be problematic, though his capability as a fighter has been what kept him alive all this time. Unruly, disrespectful, brash. All qualities not desired of him, all things that allowed him to have a spine outside of his immediate kin. Who were they to determine his path? Because he simply carried the same blood? Dresden's exile was long ago, yet the sting of indifference from the only life he's ever known lingered. Like a child lost to the fog, wandering aimlessly without a hand to guide him.

He twirled the hilt of his weapon once more, falling back into his original stance. It would seem that the larger man was having a bit more of a difficult time with the woman, yet he pressed on with an admirable strength - integrity that Dresden himself lacked in some ways, failing time and time again in his journey through the stars.

Perhaps surviving this ordeal would bring him closer to some sense of understanding himself - if not show him a path and a dead end to die at. Perhaps House Marr was the only path he had left to choose.

 

[Darth Tormenta]

Objective: Serpent or Hydra
Equipment: Saberstaff, Fists, Robes, Armor
Tags: Darth Strosius Darth Fury Alina Tremiru Darth Carnifex Darth Malum of House Marr


______

Khamesi had a reputation for being early, so her absence at the 'tria' thus far was concerning for some among the gathered. She had been quite distant when the call for the trial had came, and as she had taken a chartered shuttle and not one of her own ships for...diplomatic reasons, her return had been slower than she would have liked. She did not barge into the room, nor did she slip in. She simply entered, and made her way to her seat, her large frame giving her enough attention without drawing extra to herself. She had had one of her people, the rarely seen Izirin, the Pantoran in charge of her intelligence network. As such she was handed a quick summary of the events, and words, spoken so far, which she perused quickly before handing them back and telling Izirin to leave. If she should die here, Izirin, Lotte, and Zhardev knew what they must do. She had contengincies in place for an event such as this, but she'd rather avoid it entirely.

"Apologies for being late, I was on the other side of the mid rim on business, and I'd rather go around Alliance territory when I can't cover my tracks as carefully as I'd like."

She paused as she put the papers away that had been handed to her by Izirin, paper was rarely used by much of the Galaxy these days, but Khamesi had a fondness for it, partially because it couldn't be hacked, only stolen. A little bit more secure when computer specialists and droids could crack any system given the time.

"I cannot speak with the confidence of Malum or Darth Strosius when it comes to a lack of transgressions. I was not privy to their plans, nor was I present for the death of Darth Ophidia. I willlingly served in multiple battles, and when I was not fighting, fed intel to the Tsis'kaar from my own network to aide in their cause. However, many among you know me, if not personally then by name and by reputation. When I swear an oath, or give my word, I hold to it, and when oaths conflict, the older oath takes precedent.

In this case, it was Ophidia that helped me to integrate fully into the Order as I was trained outside of it, and it was to her my oath to the Tsis'kaar was made. Upon her death, my oath was released, and my forces immeditely stood down. If we were on of her zealots, we could be wrring even now, as my fleet and it's soldiers are trained and equipped for such hit-and-run tactics. Instead I come before you willingly, and supplied the order with intel, and my fleet once the crisis was over, and Ophdia was dead."

To the point was generally how Khamesi had operated, and none of what she said had been a lie, though she had omitted much. There were Tsis'kaar remnants among her forces that she was shielding from reprisal for instance, with new idenities and roles to serve her and the Ash Dragons instead of Ophidia. Even now, she was dressed in her robes, andw as here not as Khamesi Aivar, but as Darth Tormenta, as it had been during the crisis she had claimed the title of Sith Lady, and was not going to relinquish it simplky because the coup had failed.

"So while I cannot deny crimes, unlike the others here are, I also must stress that my word is my bond, it always has been. I swore my oath to Ophidia before I swore my oath to the Order, but now that she is dead that Oath doesn't matter. Even if she were to be revived, as we all know Sith of her level have many times bfeore, my Oath died with her the first time. My sole loyalty of relevence is now to the Order."

 

[Teresa Zambrano | Darth Pellax]

Spoiler: Equipment

Outfit: Training Clothes, Dark Valkyrie Armor, Blood infused Liquid Laminanium Bracelets
Weapons: Svikin Hjörtu, Ancient Lightsaber, Old Lightsaber

Tags: Dresden | Diodoros
Objective: 3

She felt how her blades performed before even perception could perceive. Teresa did not have to see to feel the resistance of the ancient blade being knocked away by Dresden sending it twirling through the air. The same time she saw how the other blade only grazed and the other was dodged. Already she was gauging her opponents, the small one was certainly faster and the other relied on its brute strength. The ancient lightsaber was the first to return to the woman stopping a good many inches behind the back, soon the other two would join, only that the newer one she threw joined its pair on her hand.

Something about the golden man was somewhat humorous, perhaps it was because it seemed she had indeed earned its attention. Golden orange eyes watched how the opponents body shifted, how he was over extending. Her first thought was to take the oncoming blow and feel how delectable it would feel clashing into her side. However that valkyrie shifted herself as for a moment Teresa's felt the slow of all things as her reflexes sped up and body spun, at the last moment one black wing stretched out. In a scooping motion her wing used the momentum of the smaller giant to fling him closer to Dresden.

She did not stop there as the other wing now stretched back out and in unison both moved back and forth. Both the ancient and old blade swooshes in front, with the trail of sand, dirt, litter and other small particles rushing forwards both blades flew towards both targets again, this time with a nasty spin. For as long as Teresa could, she intended to influence the flow to her advantage.

​

 

[Diodoros]

Location: Jutrand
Objective: 3
Tag: Teresa Zambrano | Darth Pellax | Dresden

Diodoros never seemed to have made contact with his strike. Instead the large winged woman seemed to have spun around and the next thing he knew he was knocked back after being hit with a bunch of feathers. The impact knocked him off his feet and sent him tumbling back. He even dropped his polearm on the ground between himself and the valkyrie. The gladiator wasn’t entirely sure what just happened.

The golden brute quickly got himself back up onto his feet. Noticing he was closer to the armored man now as well. Wondering if perhaps the valkyrie got scared and overwhelmed after putting herself in the middle. However, he was suddenly treated with a ‘beam-katana’ getting flung at him again. Unfortunately this time he didn’t have his weapon and instinctively braced himself for the plasma blade rushing towards him. In a flash other either purple or red, he couldn’t tell at this point, a searing pain ran through him. Radiating from his arm, or at least what used to be his arm. His right appendage was now separated from halfway down his bicep.

“ERRah! Damnit!” Diodoros exclaimed in a mix of pain and frustration. It hurt for sure, but he was more annoyed with the cauterization. It meant the regenerative process to regrow the limb was gonna be a lot more of a hassle. Also need to exercise the muscle memory as well now after it comes back later. Suddenly the golden man was now the platinum man as the anger he felt made his skin a shiny pale hue.


“Ugh… No matter, pulverizing the two of you will just be a greater accomplishment now.” The Gladiator declared, he already handicapped himself by not wearing armor. Now with the loss of a limb he was at an even greater disadvantage. Making the warlocks ‘inevitable’ defeat all the more embarrassing. Diodoros largely still ignored Dresden since his anger was directed more towards the winged amazon.

“Your wings will make an excellent trophy back home.” He threatened before stepping closer, rolling his foot under the shaft of his polearm and kicking up into his remaining hand. Twirling it around some he pulled the weapon back some before putting his whole body into tossing it straight at The Amazon like a javelin. However, even he would be a bit surprised by the velocity of his thrown glaive. Launching from him like it was shot out of a massive harpoon gun for hunting purrgils in deep space. The force of his throw subtly got amped up by the mysterious blue rock he wore as necklace. ​