Public LOTS │ Epoch [Open to All Sith]

[Skajin var Imret]

Srina Talon Darth Empyrean Ailana Venetia

Skajin accepted the plate of braised arthropoid with a polite buzz of thanks. They proved delicious enough to take his mind off the giant holo of the Assembler, who was apparently a spymaster.

"I szee szuch diverrszity herre tonight, Darrth Maliphant, that I confesz have no idea what a Szith is szuposzed to look like. Az for me, I learned the Forcze and itsz Darrk Szide by eating orrbaliszksz."

He'd taken teachers since then, none of them Sith.

"I follow the legacy of Clat the Shamerr. I hunt the Drraelvaszierr."

 

[Dresta]

For some moments, Dresta could feel all eyes in the room shift to her. She had not organized for any fanfare for her entry. It is not just that she was late. It is that, to an extent, such a thing was crass and did not fit this kind of event. This was not Sorenno, after all. There was a different crowd here, different powers at work, different motives at play. She did not much care what other people thought of her display as long as they stopped being boring fethers claiming to be one with the dark side when their hesitancy, their cowardice to enjoy themselves, to be passionate in the moment for the life of the party said otherwise. How bland some of these Sith were. That, in itself, was not very Sith like of them. Could they call themselves Sith if they used every excuse possible to avoid enjoying themselves? To avoid acting like they had a soul, and weren’t some banal old fool that the Worm Emperor found having fallen off the back of a transport somewhere? Some, she imagined, could feel a hint of judgment from her looming in their direction - just for a moment, however, and so slight that one could easily dismiss it as a mistake given her boisterous and jovial nature at present.

”Prison slop?” Her telepathy was more focused now, on the creature before her - a cybernetic beastie with an arm forged in fires, an arm she was certain had a story attached to it. Metal limbs often did. She nodded an affirmative. Of course it was better than prison slop. Especially if it was a Sith, or Imperial prison. They often found a way for prisoners to find their way into experiments, rituals, and… well the incinerator after they poisoned them. What kind of prison, she imagined, and why?

”Get captured fighting for the Sith?” She asked, more or less wondering why he was here, as she did not know who this man before her was or why he would be at a convention of Sith if he was something else.

”Or are you of the underworld persuasion?” She asked. She did not use the word criminal. Dresta had, in fact, technically committed many crimes - not that she was one to judge. Sometimes people got away with things. Other times they ended up in a prison.

After he answered she’d ask another question.

”I am Lord Dresta… and you? Her voice would echo through his mind.

Xun of Throne

 

[Merridius Black]

​

The desiccated breath of the desert burst through the blast doors as they slide aside with a haggard, grinding effort. Sand and heat flurried forth soon after, ushered inside by the gasping howls of Korriban's unforgiving wind. A worn cloak followed the desert inside, replacing the endless sea of barren wastes with the visage of a tattered weave paled so by the sun that it bore the green, ashen pigmentation of a sick child. The hood was carried inside by a set of simple Nerf-Leather boots, their brown hides parched and crusted in white sand. The figure paused just inside the doorway, shaded eyes staring down the ominous black banners draping the corridor as they were whipped about by the wind one last time before the blast doors shuttered behind him with a sharp clank.

Merridius Black's ragged brown and amber hair fell free as he pulled the hood of his cloak aside, allowing the sickly-green cloak to fall further down his broad shoulders. The Nihil breathed heavy as he leaned into the partition of the hallway, running a his dry tongue over cracked lips and finding no relief for the burden. Damn bathtimers, Merridius thought to himself as he looked to the Sith symbols emblazoned on the hallway banners, how can you conquer a damn thing with all this and up your arse?

When his new employers had told him he was more than welcome to stay with them, he had turned it down out of the simple rule that you don't sleep in the bed of someone who might not want to pay you later. Now, after only having traversed the minuscule distance between the landing zone and the compound, he couldn't have been happy to say no. It was bad enough he was told to be here now. Someone, somewhere, was going to make this bloody ordeal worth his time. Carefully the pirate-lord lifted himself away from the partition, wincing as a bolt of pain struck him in the ribs before riding up his side.

The prison had left its mark on him and, even after two rounds of bacta treatment, it felt like his ribs had been shattered just yesterday.

Merridius bit his tongue and buried the pain deep before rising to his full stature with a snappy click from his abdomen. He hissed, allowed his battered cloak to fall to the ground and forced himself to march towards the Dark Council's Chambers. When the doors to the feasting grounds split aside, Merridius found himself at the head of a clustercrowd - a ramshackle of baboons as far as he was concerned. Making matters worse still was the addition of even more bathrobe wearing krongites (Darth Sephi , Lunafreya Solidor ). His face curled into a brief sneer as he looked over the two first, making no secret of his distaste. After whatever staring contest may have ensued, Black would rest a tattered glove on the helmet hanging from his belt.

Unlike some of the others who had made their attendance an occasion, Merridius was the black maw that swallowed the very notion of care. He wore not but the oil splattered metal plates of his armor, which itself was only accented by the blood stained and sand crusted armor weave fabric worn beneath it. Even if he had been so inclined to not present himself as the menace he saw himself to be - something he would rarely do among his own let alone outsiders - he'd hardly have dressed any better. And so he stood silent for a moment in his grubby clothing, seafoam eyes scanning the storm of bodies he was, for some reason, asked to brave.

He was worried for a moment that his luck had waned further, spotting nobody worth his time as he saw it. That was until he spotted Darth Empyrean - or rather the one person in the room that drew his attention. Srina Talon might as well have been the chancellor of The Republic to him, he'd never laid eyes on her until this moment. Still, there was a familiar beauty in the waves of platinum that flowed from her head and the pools of liquid silver that rested in her eyes. She may have been a simple human, but Echani were no stranger to him - at least not entirely. He had witnessed a raid or two in which the silver-haired warriors were present and, notably, they were usually first to draw blades in defense.

More than likely this shimmering jewel of a woman was capable of murdering him where he stood - if she was so inclined to try. He grinned wide as his decision was made. Hooking thumbs into the bandoleers of his armor, Merridius Black swaggered through the middle of the feast hall as he were the honored guest of the evening. He turned briefly to The Worm Emperor ( Aspect of Passion ) and did little more than nod,

"Lord Robes. Enjoy your bath this evening?" he called out to the twisted, five-faced creature. The thing was horrific, whatever it was, but without The Force to guide Merridius it was little more than freakish alien to him and - employer or not - it would earn his respect. Buying true warriors to fight your battles was not a proper step on that road - not for Merridius.

Passing by The Worm nonchalantly, Merridius continued onward towards his intended target, disregarding all those nearby as he threw his left boot up and slammed the heel into the table to steady himself. A musk rotten with coolant and the stinging reek of a starship's underbelly wafted about the table as he made himself known.

"Well, we-" he croaked mid-sentence, voice caught in the cracks forming in his throat. He signaled for a moment before grabbing a hold of the cup set for Maliphant by the worm's servants, draining its contents before slamming it back on the table and returning his gaze to Srina. "apologies, you seem to have taken my voice. Not everyday I meet an Echani without her blade. Always fancied a people who can hold their own"

A smile, not one so perfect as hers - but rather a board of checkers where teeth had once been before being knocked free one way or the other. He then glanced at Darth Empyrean for a brief second before returning to the pools of silver, "What's a pretty girl like you doing here with a such a pretty boy like this? Figured an Echani would prefer a little fight in her lovers."

Deciding, upon his closer inspection, that he preferred to spend this evening star gazing - Merridius pushed himself back to a stand and grabbed an empty chair from beyond the proper side of the table and lifted it up and over to his side. Throwing it down the pirate soon collapsed into it, becoming the sole occupant on his side of the table. Promptly he threw his boots up onto the eating area, knocking the heels into Skajin var Imret 's plate of insects as he leaned back - straddling the blaster at his hip with a rested hand.

"Maybe while he ogles the robe bitters, we can discuss combat. You know, something more real. More physical."

 

[Aspect of Passion]

The Worm sat quiet, daunting even in his silence. When Merridius glanced to him and without fear offered him the quip; "Lord Robes" a turned of gold turned in his direction - stuttering and seizing. Paired with that singular mask came the quiet groan of metal, barely heard over the ambient roar of the crowds and their blanket murmuring. Despite the mask being unable to offer any emotion, or even smile, Merridius could swear he heard something whisper in his ear - Quick, and then it was gone;

"Your confidence is intoxicating.", a woman's voice said, then fell into the crowd.

Nothing was there if he were to look, but the mask would not stop following him as he moved.

Merridius Black

 

[Njal The Black]

Njal had already downed a few mugs by this point - his crew either trying to talk up the skirt of a nearby crimson twi'lek, or already passed out. A few, he imagined, had managed to pick a fight in their drunken stupor and probably lay in a few pieces buried in the whipping sands of Korriban. A shame, those men were good - or at least, he thought they were.

To be frank, he hardly knew them. The Confederate job he had was a bust, and most were new; but Njal still stood, as much a Nihil as he ever was, rich on the fat of the land. Rather, other people's land, but who could keep track anymore - he was a modern business man, looking to make his way in the world.

He stifled a burp with a grunt, mixing the two in an amalgamation that sounded exactly how it was described.

"Balagoth be damned, I wish you sithspits had something worth its bottle.", he groaned as he stood up - towering over the Sith near him. He began to wander into the crowd, annoyed that the one Sith girl who seemed interested in him all night had actually just turned out to be a cleverly disguised ewok with mange.

Merridius Black

 

[Skajin var Imret]

Did Skajin want to fight this filthy reaver? Not especially. If he was any judge of humans, the owner of the boots in his food was a good deal younger, and had the edge for bulk as well. He probably knew his weapons intimately.

But knuckle under to an obvious provocation like this, and Skajin's chances of finding respect or allies here went from whimsical to zero. Show that kind of weakness and he might not even make it out of the room.

Putting his helmet back on, he got up with the table between them. Apart from the unpowered armor's compressed-gas dart guns, and a disruptor pistol under his shell-spider silk poncho, he wasn't armed.

"And you arrre?"

Merridius Black

 

[Grundark]

Entering into the room just as the speech ended the Cragmoloid sensitive nose twitched at the variety of food and drink as a great hunger awoke in him. It seemed this was his type of people, and yet as much he desired to simply feast he felt something drawing him. Even across the room it was obvious standing nearly as tall as he was and the sweet taste of darkness in the air around it. The struggle with that one would be sweet indeed, but he supposed that was not why he was here.

In that case then he'd feast, and what better place then there? Moving with purpose towards the table he was more then pleased to note the chairs would accommodate him. How often they didn't. Taking a hunk of meat the grey beast ate a chunk before nodding to the rest of the table. "Oh now this alone was worth the miserable trip. The day the bleeding galaxy makes adequate sized transports may one day come, but it's not here yet. Bah, where are my manners. I am Grundark of, of well nowhere now I suppose."

Sniffing at the scent of darkness again he trumpeted quietly, "Delicious, just delicious."

Dresta Xun of Throne

 

[Melydia Gold]

If Melydia's eyes were wide before, they were giant now, staring up at the giant hologram now maybe inches from her nose. The expression on her countenance was not one of fear or awe but somewhere in between and leaning slightly in favoring awe. It wasn't unlike the looks she might cast upon a fascinating specimen she encountered in the wild. A potential new friend, needing to be repaired.

She had a feeling the arachnid before her wouldn't take well to either notion.

"We come from many places, lady weaver," the multitudinous voice like rusted bells answered. She barely suppressed a shudder as the spectral pedipalp passed through her cheek, instincts firmly suggesting that distance from the creature was necessary. That was a prey's mentality, though. Something Melydia was determined not to become. "Created more so than hatched, something we wish to learn to do ourselves."

She cast a quick glance toward the unmoving Worm Emperor, almost reminding herself again of her purpose. "The Lord of Worms we speak to you. And of the Frumentarii."

Aspect of Victory ​

 

[Quintus Varro]

In a room full of the powerful Quintus felt less at ease then he ever had before among the Sith. They didn't know him as the slave, the soldier or even the beaten apprentice who was considered so useless he'd been frozen. No they had assumed he belonged with the masses they'd freed and brought here to bath in the glory of a Sith reinvigorated. Here he was not simply a servant but an imposter sitting at the table. There was only choice in the here and now, he had to fake it until he was really one of them, or pay the price for his weakness.

Even simply sitting and eating it wasn't simple as he looked over Sith that might have well as been monsters from stories and shows of wealth and power he couldn't imagine. In the middle of all the noise and revelry though his mind worked through the words of the their host. The controller of his own destiny? It was something he'd never had before, and yet here in this room he could take it if he could keep the lie up long enough. So he sat there with a cold stare as he observed his surroundings and slowly ate as though time was on his side.

That would be no simple task though. He was largely untrained although he did understand the how of it all, he was like a mewing kitten in a room of lions. He didn't have wealth to back him, and in truth he had no idea how to accrue it nor what to do with it if he had it. Sith blood if he even knew how to talk to talk of the elite. No, he stood on the edge of a chasm that he dared not fall into so there was no other option then to survive and adapt. To learn to take the only power he had.

Taking another sip of a wine who's name he didn't even know the fake among the might watched impassively as another servant or slave was pushed aside with a laugh. He would not be that again, could not. Just shortly down the table a fight seemed to be brewing, but he forced his eyes to remain unfixed on it. He didn't need to get drawn into something that would reveal him. The thought boiled up the fear in him, but the anger ate at it and himself. He couldn't afford to be the fool for anyone, much less his own insecurity. For now he would eat, and watch patiently. There was no knowing how long they'd provide a roof and food for the Sith they'd taken in from the prisons. Many were already on their feet or back to old holdings, but nothing had been said about those who had nothing left. Of course he understood now, it would end soon. Soon they would have to take for themselves.

The pretender must fill the role or lose control of his destiny once more.

 

[Kal]

A feast? That was a first, to the Shadow; he had eaten mortal food before, of course, but not at a grand event staged for that purpose.

Eying the innumerable dishes with no small amount of curiosity, Kal had to remind himself why he was here. Business, not satisfying his endless appetite for new experiences, though that did not mean the two could not both be met. It was traditional to avail oneself of what was on offer while engaged in discussion during such events, he was sure. If not, what purpose would this panoply of foodstuff serve?

Taking a moment to ensure that the Ersansyr body he had procured for event - a lean, blueish-green-haired young man with luminous blue eyes and the kind of looks most often seen in a holofilm or on a runway - was up to par, he smiled. He had even secured a proper outfit, for once!

Gaze falling on a very particular Chiss, he moved closer, noting along the way a presence that surprised but intrigued him. He had not figured her for this crowd, making her presence a pleasant surprise - assuming she wasn't in trouble. <It is my pleasure to meet again, Melydia-friend.>

Hardly imperceptive enough not to notice her involvement with a conversation of her own, he desisted from further comments, for now, instead sliding up to the Chiss. "Greetings, Darth Bourous. I am Kal of Greystone, here to liaison about a... potential Agreement."

<Should you be willing to converse but prefer to keep eating, I am, of course, only too happy to continue telepathically.>

Aspect of Victory | Melydia Gold​

 

[Darth Empyrean]

"Draelvisar?", Maliphant said questioning, at times forgetting they are known for more than just being 'Bryn'adul'.

He mouthed acknowledgement before nodding his head -

"Then it seems you've come to the right place. More than a few here have something to gain from attacking the Br-", but he was cut off.

The annoying prattle of a poorly done up Nihil covered in dust seemed to cut him off, forcing his lip to curl itself into a look of digust and annoyance. Taking Maliphant's drink, even one he had not touched, seemed a pointed way to disrespect him - and an obvious attempt at flirting with Srina Talon did nothing to calm his tempers. It wasn't something he would take lightly - nor should he have.

Maliphant's hand lifted into the air - and Merridius Black would suddenly find an unknown force squeezing him in his most private areas. Not gently like a whore might have, but painfully - quick and intense to a point of pain. For a brief moment, it would seem as though Maliphant was simply going to castrate the man with the Force until he spoke;

"Combat is a... fun topic. Tell me, how does a Nihil fight if he doesn't have the balls to back up an assault?", he mused.

But as soon as he had attempted his finale - the Force would disappate. A pressure relieved, and Maliphant confused as he could feel the Force failing to abide by his control. Then he could feel it, the Eyes of the Emperor watching him - twisting his head back to see that the Emperor was staring directly at him. He didn't have to speak for Maliphant to get the message.

He snarled as he glanced back to Merridius, forced to cease his torment by the hands of another. What good did the doctrine of strength serve if Maliphant couldn't harm those who disrespected him? He grit his teeth as another wandered close to where they stood. Yet another Nihil.

Merridius Black │ Srina Talon │ Skajin var Imret

 

[Njal The Black]

Tension's had run high at the table the alabaster twins were seated at. For a moment, Njal couldn't tell them apart - might've bedded them both if he had half the mind to; yet something else drew his attention, and not of the buggy variety. Instead, the matted and gnarled face of a man he once knew - who seemed to be in a bit of pain even as Njal approached.

Though it became more obvious what he had done the moment he got close. Chose to insult the alabaster male by hitting on his alabaster female - not a good trend among Sith. He grimaced as he made his way behind Merridius - likely grabbing his shoulder and forcing him to stay sitting down, even as he very likely wanted to go for his blaster.

"Merridius Fucking Black!", he called out with a forced smile. His free hand carefully kept a hold on the back of the chair.

"Never thought I'd see you here. Weren't you prison? Yeah, you were in prison.", Njal said mindlessly.

"Apologies for my friend here.", he grunted before he dragged both Merridius and the chair off with him to somewhere slightly safer for the both of them.

"You trying to get killed or something, you idiot?", Njal said as he could feel a touch of sweat form on his brow.

"Its one thing to insult someone when you got a ysalamiri to back up your noise, but here? You're asking for one of their cat-kicks or whatever they call 'em."

Merridius Black │ Srina Talon │ Skajin var Imret

 

[Arlis Cerran]

Arlis sighed as she finished shutting down her ship’s systems, enjoying the peace after having to ferry her brother around half the galaxy since his daring escape from prison. It wasn’t that she regretted saving him, per se, but it certainly wasn’t everything she’d imagined. Probably nothing like he’d imagined, given that before this the two siblings had never met. Their parents’ standoffish relationship seemed to have been passed down a generation, but it wasn’t quite as personal on her end. Not that it mattered, he wasn’t about to warm up to her anytime soon.

She shook her head and pushed herself to her feet. No matter. There was time to dwell on it all later.

In the wake of her brother’s entrance she stepped inside the hall unnoticed, shaking the sand from the brim of her hat before she entered the feast proper, removing it and carrying it in a hand. A long coat intentionally obscured her figure from any onlookers, held close with a belt around her waist as tall boots rose up to meet its hem. She dressed for practicality and little else, and wasn’t about to dress up for an event she was the glorified chauffeur for.

It only took a few minutes of meandering to locate her brother, and a few seconds more of observation to see a giant of a man drag him away, chair and all, to a quieter corner. Well, it was as good an opening as any. Hopefully this was someone he knew, and not the second time she’d be saving his skin.

But it was apparent that by the way she heard the stranger speaking to him on approach that they were familiar, making her the odd one out by contrast. That didn’t stop her from pulling over her own chair to sit and quite literally hanging her hat on it. Offering a nod to the man she didn’t recognize, she looked to her brother. “Already making friends?”

Njal The Black | Merridius Black

 

[Srina Talon]

K O R R I B A N
Direct Tag: Darth Empyrean | Skajin var Imret | Merridius Black | Ailana Venetia
In Vicinity: Njal The Black | Arlis Cerran
_________________________________________________________
​

Maliphant saw him too.

She felt the grimace that marred the flawless features of her companion without looking. He hadn’t missed the entrance of the dark-haired, horned, and overly confident Sith anymore than she had. The only difference was that Srina did not know him, while Maliphant, obviously did. Later. She would ask later. When the prying eyes of a debaucherously disingenuous court were focused on their own malevolent designs—and she would be free to do as she pleased.

“All nations seek the end of the Draelvasier.”, her tone was soft, wintry, and barely there. The Kubaz ( Skajin var Imret ) that sat to her left was far more interesting than dwelling on that which she could not currently change. Silver eyes flickered at the notion of eating orbalisks. He seemed to enjoy the dish that she had summed well enough, but briefly, she wondered what they might taste like. An image of crushed beetle wings set in gelatin caused her to dismiss it entirely. As to what the Sith looked like? Could be? “As the stars above seem endless—So are the forms of Sith.”

Any shape, any size. It was better not to have any expectations at all.

She might have commented further on his mission to destroy the Bryn’adûl but the sudden slam of a boot definitively interrupted. Mercurial orbs slipped excruciatingly slowly from the extended appendage toward the center mass of a man that seemed ignorant of his audience. Srina did not recoil from the odor, nor, from the intrusion. The pristine way she held herself, with the natural carriage of nobility, a little queen, was misleading. One would think she might shy away from grunge, grime.

Hardly. The best battles she had ever participated in had been among the sands of Tatooine. Fighting was never made to be fair, though, it could be considered an art. Srina believed that she never truly knew her enemy until she saw how they moved. At least, once. Body language was her preferred mode of communication, though, his ability to spot a woman who looked exactly the same as a million others did not elicit a response.

Srina let him speak with an empty countenance. Lovely as the dawn, it was neither angered nor bothered. In fact—She watched the unhurried free-fall of limbs when the seemingly unsavory mercenary helped himself to a seat. Masculine, confident, with a measured gait. Keen silver eyes missed nothing. She was curious, though. Curious, perhaps, in the same way that a scholar became inquisitive when discovering a new species of insect. Find it. Capture it. Put it in a jar—whether it wishes to be caged or not. After all, it was merely an insect.

Something the Kubaz might quite like to eat.

The wintry woman could feel Maliphant begin responding to the easy-going impudence and the kiss of primrose lips took on a ghostly smirk. He could not abide by such disrespect. Not, here. It seemed that Skajin var Imret , for better or worse, also took issue. She could feel the darkness rising in Maliphant like an all-encompassing wave. Some, might shy away from it. The Dread Queen would be hard-pressed not to lean into what she considered a familiar friend. His power had never harmed her.

Yet—It had also never failed in her presence. Not, until now.

“It seems that you may be mistaken. I have not taken your voice…But I could, if it pleases. Our host has requested that we not fight amongst ourselves, though, I never turn down an opportunity. Perhaps I shall do you the favor of liberating your larynx before the evening is through…”, she breathed coldly, with a quietly deafening self-assurance. Her tone was enticing. It was also frightening. The way she spoke of tearing his voice-box from his throat made it seem as if she had asked him of little more than the weather. “That is, if your assets have not been irreparably damaged.”

It seemed that she would not be given the duel that was offered.

Disappointing.

Another mercenary dragged the cocky one away. In turn, she was left with a snarling lover who had just experienced another limitation of his deal. Suppression. “Leithio nin (Release me)…”, she spoke in her native tongue, turning slowly, to face Darth Empyrean . The notion that he didn’t have any fight in him was laughable at best. “And I will do what must be done.”

The life of an ill-kept marauder was nothing to her, despite, her curiosity. Slender fingers reached toward Maliphant to twine in lengths of ivory hair to gain his attention. It was a small gesture but it would pull him back from the Worm Emperor. For a moment the silver of her eyes seemed to bleed into a burnished gold. Just for a moment. Then, the older voice of a matronly female ( Ailana Venetia ) she knew not broke the tension.

The alabaster Sith ignored half of the prattle, but, wasn’t so out of touch that she misunderstood the intent. Was she all right?

“Perfect. Though, the stench of your herbs is nearly as pungent as the Nihil.”

The Worm Emperor wished that Maliphant, or perhaps all of them, stow their gifts. No bloodshed, no killing, not by the Force. Srina didn’t mind, in truth. She had never needed it to beat a man thrice her size bloody. Surely, she wouldn’t require it now.

 

[Tom Abelswork]

- K O R R I B A N -​

A large hiss filled the knight's ears as his helmet's servo locks disengaged and smoke billowed forth through the disengaged piece of armor, filling the space of the dark corridor he found himself in, clashing with the vile wind that still rushed in and whipped at the man's worn down and tired bones, the door seemed to have been designed to close incredibly slow, as to cause whoever might enter as much discomfort as possible. The dust slowly dissipated as the door continued to close as the creaky old door continued to crawl shut.

Finally, the door shut with a great banging sound and the dust became only particles, floating slowly in the hallway. Tom breathlessly began to briskly walk down the hallway towards the door at the opposite end of the corridor. His cape draped behind him, dragging on the ground slightly as this door, mercifully, opened far more swiftly than the last. The amount of dark-side energy that emanated from the room hit him like a brick. Dozens and dozens of Sith stood in the hall, conversing.

And at the head of the table stood the Worm Emperor. [ Aspect of Passion ] He had grown accustomed to the dark-side, even reveling in it during his fall from the Light and now. But this was different. The amount of power and hatred he felt.. It was not the gaggle of Sith that exuded all these emotions, it was one being: The Worm Emperor. He cautiously stepped towards the table, and bowed in the direction of the Worm Emperor.

"I have heard your call through the Force, my liege. And I have answered. Apologies for my lack of punctuality, me and my men had to deal with a... 'problem.'" Tom quickly took a seat at the table, not waiting for a response, and began to pour himself a drink. He turned towards Njal The Black, who was seated next to him, and spoke in a far more casual and less regal tone. "Hey there." Tom shifted his gaze to Njal's drink, and chuckled. "Ale, ay? I like your style." Tom turned back to his own drink, and took a large swig.

 

[Aspect of Victory]

Qual'al-Selim canted her head to the side, and she blinked precisely once. Frumentarii? Her Frumentarii? Of course. It all made sense now. The Worm had brought her here so she could receive this delightful gift. It all made sense now. She was almost sorry for doubting him, but a good spymaster never admitted to doubts. Poisonous things.

"I see, I see, yes," she cooed. This one contained multitudes. Would she require more than one paycheck each week? "You think you would be of some use to them? To find the hidden things the Worm Emperor desires, and root out his most cunning foes?"

Her mandibles twitched with anticipation.

Melydia Gold​

Darth Bourous had just finished picking a rib clean when he felt a shadow fall over him. He glanced up to notice that this was an unexpectedly literal description. And much worse, it was yammering away inside of his own mind, as if it owned the place as naturally as its own. The Will's eyes furrowed, and he chewed slowly with considerable consternation - mentally drafting a long list of insults, pejoratives, and racial slurs by which to refer to this latest interruption.

Something else crossed his mind, however. Like a damp fog. Fine. New orders from on high, as usual. He swallowed, reclined in his chair, and unceremoniously began to pick his teeth clean.

"You got three minutes. Out loud. And it better be good."

Kal​

 

[Melydia Gold]

Upon hearing her name, Melydia's head swiveled to address the voice, utterly distracted in the moment. Her brow furrowed - now that was a face she was almost assuredly unfamiliar with. The voice, however...and the way he spoke... "Kal-friend?" she questioned, face lighting up as the metaphorical lightbulb did as well. "Kal-friend! Hi! You look different!" More like super-duper different but that was beside the point. Something to ask him about later, when neither were preoccupied with far more important meetings.

Just as quickly as she'd turned away, she turned back to the arachnid. At Qual'al-Selim's questions, her eyes narrowed mouth opening and closing a couple times before words found themselves. "We were told to ask of them - and to speak to alchemists, if you know any. We were not told just what they were." Her hands picked at each other in a nervous fidget, almost preemptively accepting whatever consequences there were for being ill-informed.

"We are very good at finding things, though."

Aspect of Victory | Kal ​

 

[Inanna Harth]

“He said the F-word.”

The sentence, uttered by a boy in the throes of early adolescence, was spoken in a whisper, likely inaudible to most everyone in the chamber. Vaslav Florescu looked to Messala for a justification of the Chiss' crude breach of etiquette.

The old satyr was very subdued at this feast, failing to live up to the behavioral expectations set by his mythological ancestors. For one, he had brought one of his Children along as a companion; for the other, he had not touched any of the food or drinks available, instead sharing snacks he had smuggled in with Vaslav. “It’s usually, uh… one F-bomb per PG-13 movie, right? You’re thirteen now, you get to hear one a day. But no more than that until you're eighteen.”

Vaslav looked bemused at this explanation, but was quickly distracted by the arachnid appearance of Qual’al’s hologram. “It’s a big spider.”

“That is correct.”

“It can talk.” The boy’s expression brightened in childlike delight. “May I go talk to it?”

“Well, since it’s only a hologram, I suppose it’s safe.” The prospect of losing Vaslav to a giant spider didn’t appeal to the Half-Bothan in the slightest. “Go on ahead.”

He watched the kid as he made his way over to where the hologram and the cantankerous Chiss sat, only to demur as a spiky butterfly girl ( Melydia Gold ) fluttered over and got to them first. Messala was struck by a pang of melancholy that prompted him to reach into his pocket, produce a half-wilted daisy, and munch on it thoughtfully. His “little magi” wasn’t so little anymore. So why did he still worry this much?

That was when the sentence “I fight the Draelvasier” met his ears. He immediately turned toward the speaker, Skajin var Imret , finding him in conversation with Darth Empyrean , Srina Talon , and Ailana Venetia , who were sitting to his right. “I’ll eat just for that,” he remarked, taking one of the reddened bugs from the basket and popping it in his mouth. Hey, they actually had a good flavor, especially combined with the earthiness of the daisy…

Meanwhile, Vaslav was still standing awkwardly off to the side. An Ersansyr ( Kal ) had a brief staring contest with the butterfly girl, as though they were communicating telepathically, but he of course couldn’t understand what they were saying to each other. The merman then went to speak to the Chiss who had cussed earlier.

Speaking of which, Njal The Black proceeded to launch another F-bomb like a flaming catapult across the room at Merridius Black . Vaslav flinched—Messala had been wrong about the one-a-day rule—and tried to block out all the noise in the rest of the hall. He focused squarely on Qual’al-Selim and the words she said, speaking in spider-silk tones as though she were spinning her web around the butterfly girl. How different from the Chiss beside her, whose voice was like a snake spitting venom.

He couldn’t interrupt either conversation. So he just stood there and listened.

Aspect of Victory

 

[Kal]

Like many of its kind (i.e., organics), the Chiss was uncomfortable with strangers suddenly speaking into his mind. Kal had thought Sith and other Force Users to be the exception to the rule, but perhaps not. A shame, but his current form was well-suited for spoken language.

"Fair enough." Pausing briefly to telepathically relay his pleasure at seeing her to his friend, he also took a moment to mentally cut down his pitch to the bare necessities. Verbosity would not win over the impatient. "My organisation recently provided some constructs to yours, I believe you call them the Silent Knights, following an ad hoc agreement with emissaries of the Worm Emperor. I was sent to test the waters for further cooperation."

It was not that they liked the Lords of the Sith, not truly, but a friendly relationship was far preferable to a hostile one.

Especially since the great void they named Emperor was walking anathema to their kind in their true forms.

"A foundational Agreement to smooth out further transactions, if you will. We can provide information, artefacts, and more, at a price." Just business, in other words. Far removed from the chains of ideology, Greystone remained dedicated primarily to its own nebulous goals.

Aspect of Victory | Melydia Gold​

 

[Darth Empyrean]

Maliphant offered no betrayal of emotion on his face as the mercenary was dragged away - leaving the Emperor to his games, and the Merc to find new drinking partners. It seemed in the unbound Worm Legions, harassing ones betters was all the rage; likely poor attempts at asserting dominance without outright calling someone out to fight. Maliphant would not play their games - for every word said unto him would be a bone broken, a drop of bled dropped, until he was free of the Worm and his rule.

And if that meant Maliphant would lead the Sith, then it would mean exactly that; he thought to himself, a writhing in his hand a sign of his inner turmoil, anger broiling in on itself. The other paused in Srina's grasp, though it did not clench harder than a gentle firmness - carefully minding his wraith in all means.

"It isn't so important as to shed blood openly.", he offered the Dread Queen.

"They will learn respect in time, or they will die. Korriban is a tomb world, I'm sure it wouldn't mind a few more graves.", he said as he watched Merridius Black from a distance, his molten orbs burning like the lava fields of mustafar.

Srina Talon