League's End - TSE Dominion of Munto Codru

[Thyne]

Up above the ongoings of Munto Codru, about as safe in orbit as he would be anywhere else, Thyne was unusually spry on his feet this day. Why exactly he and his adoptive sister of sorts were even in the area to begin with, he wasn't exactly sure. It wasn't his place to know or even understand the details -- that was more Joyce's domain. Thyne fit a role of a passive observer more than anything, just reacting to what was thrown at him as well as he could.

That was before Joyce started talking about headgear.

There was a part of him that suspected it was a ploy on Joyce's part, something to spur him into action. The sword at his side scoffed when such a tactic succeeded. Both of them were far from the woman's sight, as far as they knew, having taken their leave the moment her attention was focused elsewhere. Now the two wandered the halls with little objective beyond avoiding her.

All this for a helmet? The voice creeped into the recesses of his mind, all its usual mysticism lost in a moment of confusion.

"I don't like them," with the telepathic connection going only one way, Thyne was forced to respond aloud, much to the confusion of anyone they passed. "They're uncomfortable, they do no favors for my hair, and-"

Your prattle tarnishes my blade. The cold reception shut the boy up immediately. Now tell me, you do know where we're going, correct?

"Uh..."

[member="Darth Pyrrhus"] | [member="Joycelyn Zambrano"]​

 

[Joycelyn Zambrano]

"I really thought he would like this one."

The sound of her boots striding with haste and authority resounded through the corridors of the ship. An occasional snap heralded the short, black cape draped around her shoulders, fastened with a silver pin at her collar. The long braid of her neck was tied around the short-cropped hair like a bow, giving a distinct silhouette and a presence of commanding authority. She was a Major of the Imperial Legion, after all.

The headpiece in her hand, meant for Thyne, was was open faced and came to a sharpened peak in the front, like a horn meant for goring an opponent.

With a snap of her cape and a squeak of her boot followed as she sharply turned a corner. Her head barely cleared the lowest portions of the ceiling, but she stood proud and refused to bow. After all, these ships had to be made to accommodate one of the Emperor's stature.

Perhaps he seeks pain. Fire on his flesh. Singed hair. Bear the scars proudly.

At her hip, Zaudraka swayed from side to side like a tail, whispering to her mind. It was not common to see one, much less two, sword-wearing Sith on the same day. Those who wielded sithswords were a niche and Joycelyn herself knew that it was not always optimal. It was for this reason she carried the short sabre hilt tucked away at the back of her hip.

"He's not that tough." "And too fond of his hair."

She stopped at a T-intersection, looking left and right before heading down the middle path. Large doors looming ahead, either the bridge or some kind of meeting room. She brushed aside her thoughts on what kind of chaos he could create if he marched into a meeting unannounced. Not wearing head-protection would not do him any favours either.

They were here to meet a figure of legend from the days of the One Sith, her father's apprentice, the founder of the Glee Anselm, and the former Sphere of Law: [member="Darth Pyrrhus"]

[member="Thyne"]

 

[Darth Pyrrhus]

The hollow, metallic sound of air was gnawing at him. In and out, in and out, a constant reminder of what he had become. Even something as simple as breathing was a conscious effort. The air still felt hot in his lungs, despite the efforts of his rebreather mask. Still, it was nothing to the fire he had faced before.

"...I must keep up appearances." Pyrrhus voice sounded distant, detached, like a message recorded. Only the heavy and imposing tone the mask gave his words would let a blind man know he was here in the room, and not a hologram. "You must do nothing" a female voice argued back. Fresh. Free. "You should have refused them. You should never have allowed vermin aboard your-" "Enough." Pyrrhus was quite done with the protests of Soraya. She was of pure blood, but not of pure heart. She did not see the whole picture.

Moreover, she was wrong in her assessment. Soraya's vision was clouded. He did not know whether she would have spoken of all visitors this way, or if it had to do with their family. He had sensed bitterness from the fall of her own empire. Now, however, nothing. Did it hurt her to see his prospering?

"I will not be-" "You will be if I wish it" he interrupted her for a second time. He didn't have to know what word came next to know she wasn't going to let this go. "That will be all." He wished to be alone now. He had silenced her tongue, but her yellow eyes communicated her protest. "Soraya" his tone grew harsher, drained now of patience.

With a flick of her cape, draped atop her black dress trimmed with golden edges, the woman turned. The doors slid open to her. Even her storming out was abruptly interrupted, as she almost walked into someone. Fury flared deep within her eyes. She wanted to kill that person. But it was not them she was upset with. She managed to hold her tongue, and moved past her obstacle, shoulder brushing into them. Not hard, but enough to signal it was best to leave her be.

The doors remained open after she had left. Oh for Force's sake. So much for being alone.

[member="Joycelyn Zambrano"]​

[member="Thyne"]​

 

[Kuzo]

She resisted the urge to reach out and touch his horns as he bowed. That would have been entirely out of character, asking first or no.

One of the benefits of wearing the mask meant that it was difficult for other people to tell just what exactly she was looking at, at any given time. Easy to have the mask tilted one direction while eyes cast to the side. Easy to hide blatant interest- which was a difficulty with her as that latent curiosity was one of the features that she could not easily shuck off or pretend she did not feel. There were certainly plenty of emotions she could feign, with reason to do so (though she preferred honesty, despite current appearances to the contrary). But feigned boredom? Never.

So behind that mask she studied him. Caught the details, the care. The heat.

Oh now wouldn't that have been a useful thing, when dealing with the ravages of the Gideon Virus? Too bad she hadn't known him then. She suspected he would have been a good friend to have if nothing else for that alone.

Though it was clear he had other positive features as well from only a moment with him.

"I see, yes," came the reply. It was difficult to not ask a hundred more questions, but again.

Out of character.

Behind the mask, she smiled at the last.

Oh if only he knew.

"I will keep that in mind," she said, and here she couldn't keep a hint of amusement from her tone. Fortunately, most of it was lost in the buzz tacked on by the mask. The beak tipped slightly to the side as she registered the last fully.

"Do you often have to deal with overblown stories as well? I would think someone like yourself would be welcomed with open arms."

Oh, she knew the stories about Vain. The problem there was that they weren't overblown at all. Dr. Vain really was that unpleasant and cantankerous. It was, ultimately, how she had ended up in Raj's possession.

[member="Vulgrim Blackwell"]

 

[Darth Carnifex]

The gauntlet had been thrown, and there was no going back now.

Seconds ticked on like minutes as the first armed Codru-Ji raised his blade in preparation for an attack, his heart beating in his ears as he took one step forward. Whatever war cry he had been preparing in his throat died before it could even dance across his lips, his body seized by an invisible force and hoisted aloft above the ground. Like a child terrorizing a small insect, the Emperor watched with torturous apathy as he twisted and tore off each of the poor warrior's limbs one after the other. He only allowed the man to embrace the sweet mercy of death after he had been reduced to a limbless mound of flesh, his blood profusely falling upon the sour earth beneath him.

"So many limbs you have, chieftain. There are sixty-four bones in the average humanoid limb, so many brittle pieces of morality to break and shatter... I believe we should start with your dominant hand." The same invisible force took hold of the chieftain, forcing him to his knees and dragging his body across the ground until it was a mere foot away from the Sith Emperor. The chieftain's upper right arm was then made to rise and protrude out towards the Emperor, the fingers of his hand splayed out as far as they could reach before the index finger churned and cracked as each phalange was twisted until it broke with a grotesque pop.

"Four down, sixty more to go in this limb alone. I'll make sure your tribe serves as a captive audience to your punishment." Much like the chieftain himself, the rest of the tribe assembled was frozen in place by the Emperor's monstrous power. Made captive to watch as their revered chieftain was mutilated with agonizing slowness and immense cruelty.

And his screams would never cease.

 

[Jairus Starvald]

[member="Irajah Ven"]

It was difficult to gauge her reaction or her feelings from behind that mask.

Annoying little thing, that mask. Vulgrim did not like it. But. It was not his mask or his face. He was sure that Doctor Vain had a good reason to hide her face from the rest of the Galaxy. Perhaps there was something that shamed her or perhaps this was better for her self-confidence. After all, it was one thing to wear it in a lab. But outside? Constantly? No, no, there had to be a good reason for that. Poor thing, he wished he could press upon her that she was excellent as she was.

And that she had nothing to prove to anyone.

"Ah, Doctor, sadly my visage is a trouble for many a person." He waved away the thought. Nails sharp cutting through air like it was silk. One couldn't help but notice that those same claws could probably rend metal just as easily. This fact could potentially make his neat suit all the more impressive.

How does the Maelibus keep it as tidy?

"I do not blame them, note, I am not exactly the most... appealing of creatures, I know this." The chitin ridges that made up his brows furrowed. Shifted anyway. "I wish it was differently, but alas." He leaned in a bit, as if he was sharing a secret. "You do not need hide yourself from the outside world, Doctor, I know it can be a cruel place. But you mustn't let them win! You are exceptional just the way you are." A serious nod followed, before Vulgrim leaned back again.

His attention snatched up by the viewport again.

They had exited hyperspace during their conversation.

"We are all stars, beautiful, in our own way." Dreamy now.

 

[Evaelyn Zambrano]

The small freighter dropped out of hyperspace in orbit of Munto Codru. It was stolen, and mostly unfamiliar in design to her. But Evaelyn had a tendency to quickly pick up on these things.

Seems like the intel was good, she thought to herself as she could observe a set of Sith ships, neatly positioned around the planet. This place was going on lockdown, and they weren't going to let up until the Codru-Ji tapped.

She still had contacts in the Sith Empire who kept tabs on her while on her various undercover missions. Most of them were classified, so there weren't many. Or, well. So far there had really only been two, but they had both been long term. Until recently she had just been pulled from the Hutt crime syndicate. A neat little story had been put out to the right people that something had gone wrong during her last smuggling operation, and her alias was presumed dead or captured. She hadn't been in the line of work where people came looking for you if you fell behind.

It had been a while since she'd laid eyes upon the Imperial Armada. Naturally she had kept in touch with [member="Joycelyn Zambrano"] over encrypted messages. And there was the pale one. Though she wasn't worried about coming back. Evaelyn felt like she'd never really be out of her comfort zone in these circles. Being the daughter of the Emperor came with its perks, she supposed.

Incoming message. The speaker identified himself and gave a line of her being an unidentified spacecraft before stating "You have entered into a restricted zone. Do not deviate from your course and prepared to be boarded." Suppose they wouldn't want her to turn back and run, and risk warn someone of this attack. But who would she warn, really?

Elyn stayed her course, drifting closer and closer towards the ship that had hailed her. Her scanners picked up a squad of fighters coming to escort her in. It was definitely a terrible idea that crept into her mind, but why not have some fun? "Hey guys, question for you. How fast are your ships?" there was a long silence and pause. "What-" The moment her comm went on again she made a hard turn and pulled into a dive, rapidly picking up pace. The fighters quickly took the bait and went in pursuit.

 

[LT-137]

​

The “Prophetess” was a Nebula II - Class Star Destroyer that found itself in service to the League of Voss before their titular world was put to the proverbial torch. The vessel had endured countless wounds in the ensuing conflict as those disparate souls sought to fight back against the encroaching forces if the Sith Empire. They had to be stopped, and with the Silver Jedi’s subsequent withdrawal from their former bases of operation - it made fighting back against the Sith-Imperial onslaught a laughable affair. Yet, fight they did. It was the only thing they could do in the face of such tyranny, as they hoped to preserve what remained of their ways of life and their culture thereafter.

Hope was such an infectious disease, that no matter how dire the circumstances may appear to be there was a chance that victory could be snatched from the jaws of defeat. As a physical symbol of their defiance of fate; the “Prophetess” was found at the head of a multitude of skirmishes with the Sith Empire - where such aforementioned truth came true. Through the efforts of this warship and her crew, they were able to bloody the nose of the Sith-Imperial Armada before withdrawing from the engagement entirely. A fighting retreat, it was labelled in the various amended reports, but in many ways, it was considered a defeat to those that threw themselves at the battle-scarred starship.

When the “Prophetess” was found above the Last Bastion of the League, the Golden Company was contracted to eliminate their target and extract the Sith Empire’s revenge in whatever manner they saw fit. Sure, the Sith Armada could’ve easily handled this warship by throwing countless, and precious war materiel at their problem - but their Commanding Officers believed that it was better to sacrifice their contracted Mercenaries instead. Why waste your own troops, when someone else’s would do?

Enter Khonsu Amon and his Myrmidons.

Nestled within the embrace of his basalt command throne, the gilded Sun Guard officer began ordering his warships into formation - and to ready themselves to engage a considerably larger foe. They would be forced to adopt pack tactics, as facing the wounded beast would only hasten their demise - since it was designed to take a beating and keep on fighting. They’d be torn to shreds, especially since the largest vessel they had, in turn, was a Frigate that was roughly a fifth of the size of the Pocket Destroyer. Thus, with a measured talon - coated in golden armour - the Twisuns Praetor commanded that his Corvette’s sweep outwards; seeking to take the vessel in orbit.

Once fully engaged, they’d utilize their unique combination of weaponry and speed to keep the Star Destroyer busy, whilst the Solvognen became the spear that would core through the “Prophetess’” central spine.

 

[Keira Cerdulan]

She didn't like this planet much.

That was what Keira decided quite quickly after she had been put on this place along with a good bunch of Legion soldiers. She quite enjoyed the void of space over ground work, but something about wanting the wit of Mastiff squadron or some junk. Or they punishing her...last bit of off-time Keira had been a little, extra rowdy, expectable from Mastiff Squadron but smacking some sense back into their Lieutenant with some dirty ground work was fine.

Even if it wasn't a punishment it sure as all hell felt like one. Trudging along Keira grunted, with sleeves rolled up and her pistol held tightly in one hand: the only reason she was truly here was to provide a set of eyes, oh but they'd see, the little hotshot pilot knew how to swing a blaster around when the going started rolling. They'd see. She scanned across the horizon, she had to admit she liked seeing so much green compared to the disgusting metal that seemed to be literally everywhere on Cademimu V. Fresh air, that was pretty nice too.

Okay so maybe it wasn't that bad, but after stubbing her toe on a rock and letting out some quickly muttered curse words: she decided it was still pretty bad.

 

[Thyne]

"I think we were supposed to end up somewhere around here..." Truth be told, Thyne hadn't the foggiest as to where he was supposed to be, let alone where he was even allowed to be without an escort. Yet wanderers tended to do as their title suggested, Thyne being a prime example of such. If the sword could grumble, it'd be an ever-present soundtrack in the boy's mind, forever vocalizing its distaste.

His very presence didn't exactly inspire any sort of fear in the eyes of those around him. Aside from the massive sword at his side, Thyne looked the part of more civilian than warrior. His garments, crisp, refined, and possibly tailored for one just a bit larger than their current wearer, marked him as one less of rank and one more born, or in his case bred, into his position. His hair was wild, reminiscent of a mop more than a hairdo one would expect from such a specimen. His skin was pale, not necessarily a healthy tone, and accented by silver.

Thyne's eyes widened, his person as a whole freezing as a door slid open adjacent from him. A woman, clad in black, stormed out, nearly running into him in the process. One look at her eyes silenced any sort of apologies that'd normally proceed the encounter, his eyes still wide as she shouldered past him. Quick, kill her. The sword called for bloodshed, as per its usual. Thyne's gaze followed her for a couple moments, his hand sliding to the sword's hilt before eventually turning back to the door she'd just exited.

"Hello?"

[member="Joycelyn Zambrano"] | [member="Darth Pyrrhus"]​

 

[Joycelyn Zambrano]

[member="Thyne"] [member="Darth Pyrrhus"]

When Joycelyn met Soraya, the large Vahlacanthix almost trampled her without a thought, too concerned with avoiding whatever disastrous first impression Thyne would deliver to an esteemed Lord of the Sith. However, the look in Soraya's eye caught Joycelyn's attention; this, it seemed to her, was a person just looking for a reason to explode and tear someone apart. She did not stop, of course, but the knowing did not step on caltrops.

Instead, she gave a knowing look and a nod of pretend courtesy, but she did not make way.

No

Joycelyn Zambrano did not make way for others. The weak would bow to her, and she would not relent; that was the way of the Sith.

She turned the corner and saw a scene practically drawn from her nightmares: An open door, ominous lighting filling a dramatic room, the back of Thyne armed and clueless, and the horned, powerful silhouette of a legendary Lord of the Sith ahead: Darth Pyrrhus - Her father's apprentice.

The triumvir of knowledge.

Everything seemed to shrink around her, encroaching on her space and telling her to bow, but she pushed back with her presence. Swallowing her anxiousness she stepped up toward the wide doors with defiance.

 

[Kuzo]

Oh he was a doll.

"You," she said firmly, "are likewise perfect just the way you are. Never let anyone tell you otherwise."

In other circumstances, she imagined she would have enjoyed this Vulgrim's friendship. Unfortunately this was not other circumstances and she had a persona to maintain. Even here in what seemed like privacy she didn't forget it, or assume safety. That path led to a fair too early unveiling and, she had no doubt, her death.

No, that simply would not do.

"Your concern is noted," she said, trying to keep it a little stiff, when she had other things she'd much prefer to say. "I wear the mask for my privacy, because it pleases me to do so. But your words are kind, and I hope that you are half as kind to yourself as you are being to me in this moment."

Ugh. Vain was terrible and this was one of the moments Raj particularly disliked being her. Usually it was amusing. But in this moment, significantly less so.

[member="Vulgrim Blackwell"]

 

[Darth Ophidia]

"My power."

The young knight clenched a fist as she stared vacantly into the void. Ophidia handed out more supplies and kept the conversation going casually, guiding the Jedi along in the task. Yet, the protege grew ever more distant as conflict brewed within.

"You have the Force, use it. Fight, protect."

The Sith could smell it, the conflict and fear
"-n I'm older, I want to be a Jedi too"

As on cue, the words came from behind as eyes looked at what they believed to be their saviour. Next to her shining presence, the crone was insignificant, a shadow of the surroundings. Just as she wanted. With every second that passed by, she sealed the fate of these refugees. Pride was a venom to those too often seen as heroes. And so the viper in the sand had given its first bite.

And the mouse never even squeaked.

"So what will you do, Jedi Knight?" "How will you protect us?"

 

[Sor-Jan Xantha]

Forbidden Castle​

[ Darth Lolcat Theme (Catnip Orchestra) ]​

Butcher's shavings for the wyrwulves.

Fish for the Cathar.

Yes, he was eating out of a dog bowl on the floor at the moment. This was fine. This was totally fine. He was okay with everything that was happening right now...

Well, at least he was satisfied with the fish. Laid out on the floor, the young Cathar's tail flicked side to side as the boy ravenously ripped apart the fish in his bowl, tiny claws picking through the flesh for the bones.

These Cordu-Ji thought that they could treat him like...

...well, one of their own children not to put too fine of a point on it.

He was going to bring destruction to his enemies. Laugh as the walls of their own ignorance came crashing down around them, and let their suffering be the chorus that would sing of his power and wrath.

But first, he was going to get some water.

Sitting up on his knees, the kitten reared up over the bowl that now had only a fish head, tail, and bones in it. Shuffling over to where a smattering of pups were huddled around the water bowl, the Cathar moved some of the pups away to clear a spot for him to bend down and lap up some water.

This travesty was beneath the dignity of the Sith and would be tolerated no more!

...except he kind of wanted a nap now.

Padding away from the collection of wyrwulf pups, the Cathar identified a on the floor where the sunlight was shining through the window. The boy settled there for a moment, then got up and headed back to the water bowl. Returning a moment later with a squirming, wiggling wyrwulf pup in his arms, the kitten settled back in the sun-lit warmth for a nap.

 

[Darth Carnifex]

Two arms had been permanently mutilated, contorted into such horrific positions that it made the queasy stomach convulse with grotesque revulsion. Whatever screams that had once freely exploded from the chieftain's throat have been reduced to whimpering mewling, shock setting into his being as the Emperor of the Sith demolished the limits of his pain threshold. However, the Emperor grew bored of his victim's silence and eventually levitated him above the crowd, each of his limbs still being twisted and bent at unnatural angles.

"Because of the foolishness of your leader, I have come to realize that your tribe is worth very little to my Empire. I have therefore decided to abandon my quest to seek a worthy proxy to serve in the Empire's stead on your homeworld, and I will be departing your world once I have rendered your tribe unto dust."

With a twist of his wrist, he broke the chieftain's neck. But that was only a brief prelude to the horrors that the Emperor unleashed upon the rest of the tribe. As the chieftain's body plummeted to the earth, a dark morphic energy began to envelop the Emperor in a sphere of necrosis. Completely subservient to his will, he sent it forth into the stunned crowds in all directions. The affliction ripped through each Codru-Ji one at a time, ripping away their vitality to leave behind withered husks as they passed from person to person. By the end of it all, the entire tribe had been massacred and left as brittle shells on the hard sour ground.

All except one.

The Emperor spared the chieftain's daughter, who remained pinned by her feet to the ground by his power. He pulled her towards him as he had done to her father, but he did not move to end her life like his. Instead, he reached out to cup her chin and direct her gaze up towards his. "I spared you because I sense the power of the Force within you, untapped and brimming with potential. Learn from your people's mistakes as I take you under my wing, to serve me as a Sith apprentice." He released his control over her and she stumbled back as she regained hold of her motor skills. For several seconds she said nothing, her tearful eyes taking in the immensity of the atrocity that the towering man had inflicted upon her people.

But then steely resolve washed over her alongside morbid acceptance, and she fell to one knee. "My life is yours, oh King of Kings. I pledge myself to your teachings."

 

[Darth Ophidia]

"I will protect you with everything I have." "Every man, every weapon, every life - My own included."

Ophidia touched the Jedi's arm one more time. She hid the smile on her face, but on the inside she was smirking with self-satisfaction.

"Then arm us. Let us fight for our freedom."

These were not soldiers, they would die quickly if they were made to do battle with the Legion. They both knew that, but the Jedi had given her a verbal weapon before that may sway her opinion.

"You will die." "Everyone dies."

"This is di-" "'Better to die free than live under the yolk of an evil overlord.' Your words, let us live up to them."

A moment of silence, then a nod.

She had conceded to violence, there were no more innocents. All there would die as sacrifices to the end of the League.

 

[Sor-Jan Xantha]

Forbidden Castle​

[ darth lolcat theme ]​

The kitten awoke from his nap.

Rolling up on all fours, the child stretched himself out, tail extended as he arched his back and held the pose for a moment. The wyrwulf pup that he had laid down with earlier was still there, body curled up and its nose sniffing curiously at the Cathar. Collapsing back to the floor, the boy cuddled with the pup and seemed to drift lazily back to sleep.

Then the child's cat ears perked up.

Footsteps. Coming down the hall.

The boy sat up, cradling the pup in his lap. The puppy became a writhing, wiggling mass of fur, as a dark aura seemed to spread outward from the small cat-boy. A low, rumbling purr resonated from his chest, as his claws gently scratched and kneaded the frightened pup.

There was a scraping sound, like a metal key being inserted into a keyhole.

The boy could see the figure through the door. As the lock disengaged with an audible click, the boy held up one hand. Palm facing up. And then he started to close it.

The door had started to swing open when the gagging sounds began. The wyrwulves pushed it open with their heads, eager to flee from out of the room. Slowly, wyrwulf in one arm, and his other holding the menacing grip out, the young Cathar rose up from the floor. As he did, the Cordu-Ji kennel master was dropping to his knees.

The bell around his neck jingled with every step, as though the chimes of a clock. Counting down the last moments of the man's life. Standing in the doorway, the child watched the man struggle and die without so much as batting at eye. It took longer than he'd expected. And the man did not die well.

The collar and bell dropped on top of the body.

His hand now free, the boy gently kneaded the pup that was in his hands. And started walking out of the kennel, toward the upper chambers where the Cordu-Ji who had thought to profit from his abduction were no doubt congratulating themselves for the feat.

Dogs ran wild before him, as the child stalked up toward the manor.

 

[Jairus Starvald]

[member="Irajah Ven"]

"That is sweet of you to say."

Another bow, but this one only a half one.

Otherwise Vulgrim would have been liable to skewer the Good Doctor on his horns. This was something he certainly did not want to accomplish. She was such a nice person! He wasn't sure why everyone complained about her all the time. It made little sense. Polite and concise, weren't those the ideal nominators of good socializing? She hadn't insulted him even once. Which made the previous claims even more dubious. How could this person be the one shouting poor interns out of the laboratories?

He thought on her words there and realized he had committed a faux-pas here.

The assumption that she was hiding her face was simply rude, no? Telling her what he had said? That was basically insinuating that Vain was doing something wrong. Which, obviously, was not the case. If she was doing it for her own desire.

"I apologize, Doctor, I did not mean to suggest anything. If you prefer the mask then you are well within your rights, of course." He leaned in a bit, conspiratorially. "In fact, I believe you look quite dashing in it. The mask certainly inspires a certain nouveau retro atmosphere, yes? I am sure it is very utilitarian as well." His claws carefully reached out, before petting her on the shoulder. Very, very, very careful. Even then the smol doctor might feel like she was being pressed with her heels into the floor.

"How goes your research, Doctor? Anything fascinating or exhilarating in the realm of science?"

Eyes gleamed as he kept leaning in to listen.

His hand warmed her shoulder up too. A pleasant heat slowly seeping into her bones.

 

[Darth Pyrrhus]

Hello? The tall Togruta head tilted in the direction of the sound. He stood slightly hunched over though he straightened out when there was company. His height was complemented by two curved montrals that reached for the elevated roof, something which made him appear all the more towering. His skin was a reddish pink, packed within dark tunics and black robes. He wore no armour today. Yellow eyes peered out towards the source of the voice, framed by a greyish, nearly sickly hue.

“Enter” the robotic voice that came through the black mask upon his face was as much welcoming as it was commanding. So, the time had come to entertain the Zambrano envoy. A little sooner than he had expected, but no matter.

Pyrrhus’ eyes narrowed slightly, and a question was about to be asked when it revealed itself but a moment later in the space where [member="Thyne"] had just stood before. His attention seemed to leave the boy almost completely, to properly examine the daughter of the Butcher King.

“Ah. Darth Vornskr the Second” he tried that mantle on for the first time. Unless her father had had a change of heart, Pyrrhus had not expected to hear himself say Darth Vornskr again, unless giving a history lesson. He did not know [member="Joycelyn Zambrano"] well, but naturally he had been given some reports. He made it a point to know who wandered aboard his ship. Though Carnifex had no shortage of children, it seemed to Pyrrhus that Joycelyn was the most prominent one. Or, at least, the most promising one.

“So many children of Darth Carnifex struggle to step out of his shadow, and make a name for themselves. Yet you have taken his former name. I wonder why?” he questioned, dark eyes examining the tall woman. He was not setting her up for humiliation, however. He had recognised her by the name and title; ‘Darth’. He suspected such a distinction meant little to others, but the significance attached was not lost on him.

It was an interesting choice. Not to carve out a new name of her own, but invoke the name her father had held. It was not just any Sith she claimed to be the second-coming of, but the Emperor of the Sith Empire, the Dark Lord of the Sith. Interesting, subtle, powerful. Once the pause had carried over, he put forth yet another question to her. “Do you mean to say you are his successor, above all others?” Perhaps, he thought to himself while waiting for the answer. The way she entered, fighting her own expectations and the power of the room, the history of his name, yet remaining upright without covering. Yes, the way she entered spoke to him. If only more within the Empire stood like her. He was not conversing with Joycelyn here, but indeed a young Darth.

His neck would tilt slowly towards the unproven one, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly, as if to say ‘And what of this one?’ in a scowl that threatened to deprive the room of its source of heat.

 

[Evaelyn Zambrano]

The fighters on her rear blasted against the shields of her freighter. Well feth, these guys were more accurate than what she had expected. Suppose going up against smugglers and your average criminal, facing actually trained soldiers was something else entirely. She knew this idea was already terrible, but perhaps not quite as terrible as she had first thought.

They had passed her first without landing a single hit, but they were agile, and were quickly on her again. The line of communications had been dropped. No more warnings now, they were shooting to kill. And Elyn was at a disadvantage. Considering this was supposed to be her 'welcome home', she could not exactly fire back and think she'd avoid repercussions.

She feinted another dive, before cutting he left rear thruster while keeping the right going. She pulled hard on the stick, making the ship turn sharply to the right. Power was cut on the right thruster as well. The whole thing lasted for only a moment. Suddenly the freighter had turned and was facing the fighters on her rear, much quicker than they had anticipated. Soon the momentum would carry her past them, but there was enough time, and enough shield left on her, to pose a proper threat to the fighters. They scattered, out of her attack path, deciding it was not worth it to trade blows at this juncture.

The freighter then carried on, all thrusters blasting at full power after she had returned it to the original position. Evaelyn fought the urge to throw up all over her display. Instead, she pushed the ship as fast as she could and turned it away from the two fighters who had escaped to the same side, leaving only one of them moderately close to her. But they were all out of ideal firing range.

Faster than what was recommended, she charged towards the nearest carrier, likely the same that had hailed her.