Faction Nights of Sidonia [ ME ]

[Aether Verd]

Assets: Beskar'gam | Basilisk
Darksaber | Resolute Dawn​

THULE, MANDALORIAN SPACE

Thule was a world scarred and seasoned by centuries beneath the heel of Sith lords. Darkness ran through its bedrock as naturally as water ran through stone, a legacy so entrenched it had become marrow to the people. To claim such a place for the Empire was no simple feat, yet here it stood, bearing Mandalorian colors. To call it conquest would be a misnomer. Thule had never been conquered - only bargained with, only endured.

Aether knew better than to imagine himself some savior who could purge the rot from the world. The Dark Side would live here so long as one of its natives still drew breath. Just as the underworld could never be wholly cleansed from the galaxy, neither could Thule’s shadows be torn away. Evil was a current that could not be dammed. But currents could be guided. They could be made to serve.

Thule’s people, proud and stubborn, wanted little more than to remain free of meddling hands. It was that hunger for autonomy that gave Mandalore its opening. An accord was struck - one that left their sovereignty intact while binding their loyalty in blood and tribute. The Mand’alor had chosen one of their own, Lady Sidonia, to serve as Warden of the world. She would govern, so long as her world paid its tax and contributed soldiers to his banners. In return, Mandalore’s arm would not smother them, so long as Thule’s sins remained Thule’s alone.

The balance was delicate, but it held. Tonight would prove whether it held still. Aether’s arrival had been announced weeks before, giving the Warden ample time to prepare. She had chosen to welcome him with a banquet - a display of civility, of order, perhaps of strength wrapped in refinement.

By early evening the Mand’alor descended, bringing with him an entourage of his finest. Their vessel was guided swiftly from landing site to palace grounds, and there the monumental seat of Lady Sidonia rose before them. Black stone and firelit grandeur, an echo of a thousand years of Sith dominion, now bearing the mark of Mandalore.

What the night would reveal, none yet knew. But Aether entered certain of one thing: balance was never permanent. It was only ever borrowed.​

Sidonia , Domina Prime + Open

 

[Domina Prime]

​

Blinding Faith, Give Me Sight

Aether Verd | Sidonia | Kurayami Bloodborn​

Dima's five eyes burned like coals beneath her mask as the banners of Mandalore unfurled above Thule's black citadel. The air here was heavy. Perfumed smoke to veil the rot, music and laughter to smother the whispers of fear. To Dima, such finery was a fragile veil stretched over a corpse. Thule reeked of darkness, yes, but of a darkness that had gone stagnant, unused, unworthy.

Without conquest, without blood, what was it but hollow?

She did not despise this banquet despite that; she relished it. Conquest could break a people's body, but feasts like this broke their defenses. In these gilded halls, souls could be harvested more cleanly than flesh. Aspirants molded, faith branded, the masses fed to The Faith of a cause. This was war of a holier kind, and she walked among it like a Warpriest preparing the pyre.

She loomed just behind Aether Verd , her presence deliberate, oppressive, like the shadow of an executioner's blade. In her upper claws she clutched a black book bound in gold, the scripture of her cult, while her lower hands folded neatly behind her back in martial poise. Her cloak of pretorian violet trailed in the torchlight, and her mask, carved in runes of blasphemous starlight, stared unflinchingly at the Sith-born courtiers.

"How righteous of us, brother mine," she intoned, voice resonant, heavy with sacred authority. "You have a divine calling. Doing gods work, to drag their marrow into the light of Ha'rangir. His work is never truly finished, is it?"

Her talons clicked against the spine of the book, sharp and patient, like teeth grinding against bone. She swept her gaze across the assembled Thulian lords as though already reading their epitaphs. "This land stinks of snakes. It has been ruled by fear, yes...but fear of the wrong god. This demands correction~"

She leaned nearer to Aether, her words a hiss of reverence and command in his ear. "Tonight, they dine. Tomorrow, they kneel. And in the end, Mandalore will show them something beautiful~"

 

[Kirae Orade]

Location: Thule
Tags: Open


The Dark Side. It was an interesting concept to Kirae. The concept of Light versus Dark. It seemed nonsensical to her but she didn't speak up on it. People were free to have their own beliefs in her eyes. For now, her focus was on the palace. Far too rich for her blood, a small frown hidden beneath her helm. Whilst Thule may have been in the territory of the Mandalorians, Kirae did not consider it home. She did would not relax, even now holding onto her shield, ready to defend herself against a potential unseen danger.

The air tasted rotten. Kirae knew it was because of the Dark Side, but the...oppressive nature of one of her fellow Mandalorians did not help matters. She did her best to ignore it however. The conversation was hard to ignore. Forcing others to kneel. That was not what Kirae stood for. Conquest. Destruction. Tyranny. No. Kirae valued protection. Honour. A Mandalorian should protect their people, be they Mandalorian or Domarian. It was an opinion that she believed to be unpopular. There those who believed the weak should become strong of their own accords. Whereas Kirae believed the weak could not become strong without the aid of the strong.

For now, she stood silent as always. Perhaps she would enjoy herself at the feast. Perhaps not. None of it mattered. She would return back to Mandalore sooner or later. Today was a new experience for her to try and learn. To venture past what she considered to be her Home and see more of the culture of the Galaxy.​

 

[Sidonia]

​

LOCATION: THULE​

​

Sidonia stood, veiled by equal silk and steel. Midnight robes, their hems stitched with faint silver sigils, fell like liquid shadow around her frame, but across her shoulders and arms the gleam of burnished beskar caught the torchlight. Armor and finery blended seamlessly, a deliberate fusion that made her neither wholly noble nor wholly warrior but something more commanding, something inevitable.​

​

Her face, pale and sharpened by the hall's fireglow, was a study in unyielding beauty: crystalline eyes the color of winter skies, lips curved faintly as if every word already belonged to her. An obsidian circlet crowned her brow, set against the fall of her dark hair, and the mantle of House Veyl — black trimmed in crimson; trailed behind her like the shadow of judgment itself.​

​

When her head inclined toward Aether, it was a gesture of welcome without surrender. But her gaze did not remain fixed on him alone, it swept across the gathered lords of Thule, the Mandalorian officers, and finally lingered with measured pause upon Dima. None in the hall were spared the weight of her regard.​

​

"Lord Aether," she began, her voice low, silken, and edged with cold authority, "you arrive among guests and heirs alike. Let it be understood; tonight is not merely a banquet for pleasantries. It is a test. Every gaze upon you, every word spoken in your presence, is a petition and a trial."​

​

Her hands folded lightly behind her back as she continued.​

​

"Thule is my dominion. Its people have known darkness before your banners ever flew above them. They will kneel not out of fear alone, but of necessity that is my promise and my burden. If they will not bend, they will break. If they will not follow, they will be swept aside."​

​

Her cold smile deepened faintly, and her eyes fell upon Dima, her words turning like a knife honed for a single mark.​

​

"As for you, you stand not in the shadows of this hall, but in its light. The eyes of Thule weigh you as much as they weigh me. Will they see strength enough to respect, or only curiosity dressed in iron?"​

​

Her gaze lingered, sharp and challenging, before she let it drift back to encompass the hall once more.​

​

"Tomorrow, the prayers will be louder than the drums of war. Tonight, they dine and I will dine with them. But make no mistake: Mandalore's shadow may loom over this world, I give only as much respect as I am paid, no more no less..." she spoke to no one in particular, though her eyes never peeled away from Dima.​

​

The hall seemed to draw breath in unison, silks whispering against steel as Sidonia's mantle shifted with the subtle motion of her stance. She had spoken not only to rulers and armies, but to each soul present, leaving them to wrestle with the certainty that she would not be moved, nor matched.​

​

 

[Kurayami Bloodborn]

Location: Thule

Kurayami had come to this world to revisit more shards of his past, try to piece together a bit more of the puzzle that ever ate away at his mind. While he was meditating in his newly finished ship while wearing his XC-86 armor. This peaceful moment was interrupted by a ping, an announcement, Thule was having a banquet. A feast to celebrate the rise of a new ruler, one who would abide the will of Mand'alor the Iron. Most interesting indeed. He could feel presences of old friends and ones that he was unfamiliar with, though he made no attempt to hide his own presence here today. Exiting his ship and bearing his modified SE-44C's in their holsters and lightsaber at his hip, he made his way slowly to where he could feel the others gathering.

As he approached the small group he bowed in deference to the hostess. "Lady Sidonia. Forgive my late arrival, I was in meditation nearby, I am Kurayami Bloodborn. I am here not on behalf of any faction, but out of curiosity." The corellian withdrew his flask from its plce in his utility belt and took a sip through the retractable straw in his helmet. His eyes moves to gauge the others gathered. Aether Verd, son of Isley, to be expected as he was the one who held the mantle of Mand'alor and he was likely here to set terms with the new ruler. Dima was here for...well it was hard to tell if Dima even knew why she was here. The other woman he couldn't place. Be interesting to see what her reasons for being here were. Turning to them he nodded in greeting. "Aether, Dima, ma'am. Nice to see y'all here as well."

Aether Verd | Domina Prime | Sidonia | Kirae Orade

 

[Tan'yill Vizsla]

The Thule bred chicken served by lady Sidonia 's staff were simply delicious, juicy and tender, Tan'yill thought as her teeth - four of them fanged - dug into and savoured the taste of one of the banquetes courses. She stood casually in full armor, except for the buy'ce, her helmet, which rested on the table beside her, leaning against one of the tables set for a feast worthy kings.

Reason she was present at this meeting? As Riduur'alor, Tan'yill was simply overlooking the interests mattering to Clan Vizsla, but also because lady Sidonia stroke her as a charismatic leader and person of interest. New contacts were seldomly a bad thing, and business opportunities had to be tended to not to slip through your fingers. What was possibly even more interesting was that the Mand'alor the Iron himself was about to visit Thule and Sidonia's humble castle and keep, from inside which walls order endured. The question was for how long? Their people wasn't exactly known for peaceful negotiations and stable relations. Sometimes though, they shared a warm meal and cold drinks until day became night and night became morning, but chaos were rarely far away. Tan'yill had seen and been thrown through enough of it to pull her into doing spice again, and a good portion of it were probably flowing through her veins right now. Her body had adapted to handle the worst of the side-effects. Most of them, anyway. Some of them she had tamed and used to her advantage, like aggression and pain management. The spice helped to subdue both physical and mental pain, but the latter was always the hardest to control. Few things mattered to her after losing her only daughter and not knowing where her wife were. Anger turned to strenght and fury. If her enemies considered her as cold before, they would turn to ice in the mere presence of her now.

Tan fiddled with a piece of flesh between her teeth before finishing the bone and discarded it into a nearby waste bowl.

Her gaze lingered, sharp and challenging, before she let it drift back to encompass the hall once more."Tomorrow, the prayers will be louder than the drums of war. Tonight, they dine and I will dine with them. But make no mistake: Mandalore's shadow may loom over this world, I give only as much respect as I am paid, no more no less..." she spoke to no one in particular, though her eyes never peeled away from Dima.

She pushed herself from the table and took the helmet with her, tossing and twirling it around casually once as she approached to end up by the side of lady Sidonia, her intense yellow-greenish gaze wandering over their guests. That was a big fething enforcer accompanying Mand'alor the Iron, she thought and spared the lady a heartbeat of a longer glance. She had met some opponents her size in the ring, and even though her teeth and fangs were dripping for some competition, this was a social call and she knew she had to keep things civilized. Only a fool would be the one thrashing a party like this. Tan'yill placed the helmet under her arm, and bow her head towards the honorable guests.

Aether Verd , Domina Prime , Kurayami Bloodborn , Kirae Orade​

 

[Sula Skirata]

Sula was here because she had to be. She'd drawn the short straw for who was going to go with Mand'alor to represent the Analysts of the Star Corps. Given the choice, she would have been anywhere else, preferably in a lab where the subjects were more easily understood and the results expected. Hell, even if the results were unexpected, Sula could find a way to explain it, but people?

Sula did not understand people. Take this big multilimbed one that was spouting some drivel about divination and gods. There were no gods. There were only people, and if people were raised to "gods", it was because people put them there. There was nothing divine about it. But Sula had gotten wise enough to know that if she voiced any of that, she was liable to get into a fist fight with something far bigger and with more teeth than she had. She didn't need to be a scientist to know the outcome of that fight.


Her gaze shifted from the chatting monster to their surroundings. To be beneath so many eyes made her uncomfortable, and while the woman in the throne spoke, Sula heard none of it. She was too busy trying to figure out if the people watching them were going to eat them or not. It certainly looked like it. A voice she did recognise spoke up, and her head snapped round to settle on...what was his name? Kursomething...bloodysomething? They had met...once? She recalled him yelling at her for something...and undead. Yes...The ship she'd gotten her samples from. That was it.

She moved to take her helmet off, remembered she was surrounded by predators and changed her mind, folding her arms instead.


Tan'yill Vizsla Kurayami Bloodborn Sidonia Kirae Orade Domina Prime Aether Verd

 

[Korda Veydran]

Korda's boots made a soft echo against the polished stone floor as he entered the hall, each step measured, deliberate. The torchlight flickered across his armor, highlighting the careful polish that caught faint glimmers even amidst the faint scuffs and streaks of ash from a recent mission. The subtle signs of labor did not diminish the sense of disciplined authority he carried—they spoke instead of someone who maintained order even in the chaos of his work.

"I… overheard mention of this banquet on private comms," he said, his voice calm and precise, reverberating lightly in the vaulted hall. He inclined his head in a respectful bow toward Aether and Lady Sidonia. "It seemed prudent to ensure the safety of your guests and the integrity of the proceedings. I trust my presence is not ill-timed."

His hands rested lightly before him, fingers interlaced, posture straight but relaxed, a careful balance between attentiveness and deference. His eyes swept the room with measured scrutiny, taking in the folds of rich silks, the glint of burnished weapons, the myriad expressions of those assembled—Dima's poised menace, Kirae's silent vigilance, and others moving like shadows across the periphery of his awareness.

"If it is acceptable," he continued, voice threaded with quiet resolve, "I would offer my services in a security capacity. It would be an honor to lend what protection I can during an event of this significance."


Even as he spoke, he remained alert, every subtle motion of the hall noted—shifts in posture, glances exchanged, the faint clatter of utensils over stone. Korda moved not as a guest, but as a sentinel, ready to act when required, attentive to both duty and the intricate ballet of politics unfolding around him.

Tan'yill Vizsla Kurayami Bloodborn Sidonia Kirae Orade Domina Prime Aether Verd

 

[Soliane Desari]

NIGHTS OF SIDONIA​

Location – Thule
Objectives – To be dated . . .
Tags – Aether Verd Domina Prime Kirae Orade Sidonia Kurayami Bloodborn Tan'yill Vizsla Sula Skirata Korda Veydran
Paraphernalia– Blaster, Beskar'gam

The accursed query of why she was here remained on her mind. For with the endless seas of knowledge on Mandalore, one might assume she'd be nose deep into uncovering its histories and tongue. Yet Thule intrigued her, the Ancient Sith had once leashed this planet, building temples and preserving their knowledge and wealth in countless artefacts. So in spite of her newfound allegiance in the Mandalorian Empire, she could not stray from the hold the discovery of force-imbued relics had over her mind and body.

While many of her 'droten' or people, lingered within these halls, chatting about nothing and everything. Soliane remained by the walls, her buy'ce on, as the multitude of sensors scanned the region, the signatures perking up akin to a million stars at night. Most, however, occurred in the soil below, or in its labyrinth of tombs beneath its civilised surface. Undoubtedly not easily reached by friend or foe, but when has she ever been discouraged by a light challenge? It could not end up worse than the time on Raxus Prime--though her bruises on her back had still not vanished, courtesy of Aether Verd 's penchant for demolition...

Nevertheless, Soliane made no attempt to slip away from the banquet, her arms folded over the iron heart etched into her chestplate. The Chandrilan kept careful watch to not graze the countless buttons on her vambrace, mindful of not pressing them, again. The first time she donned the armor, the lightest of brush against a switch had unleashed a whirlwind of whistling birds that nearly dented her freshly forged beskar'gam. No doubt her brethren had ever laughed that hard, while she had never been so red with embarrassment. Still, it could not possibly be the worst blunder an aruetii had ever committed.

When the talks finally began between the Mand'alor and the shifty Warden of the planet, Soliane held her post at a distance, only for her gaze to drift toward a nearby table laden with numerous delicacies. Temptation proved stronger than discipline, as she left her place by the wall. Amid her walk, she took off her buy'ce and tucked it beneath one arm before she reached the spread and began trying the many varieties of cakes. Some were so foul they nearly forced her to spit them out--though she'd rather not face more laughter--while others burned her tongue with its sharp liquor or spices mixed into the syrup. Coughing softly, she seized the nearest set of drinks to wash away the sting, not caring what it contained so long as it extinguished the fire raging on her lips.

Surely, that would not lead to any problems...

​

 

[Korda Veydran]

Korda had been standing sentinel near one of the hall's archways, the burnished edges of his armor catching the glow of the firelight. The faint scarring of recent combat was still visible along the plates, but every line of his stance was deliberate, disciplined—eyes moving from guest to guest, measuring distance, exits, intent.

When Soliane peeled away from her post at the wall, her helmet tucked under her arm, he tracked her movement without intruding. It was only when the faint sound of her coughing reached him—choked back quickly as though she hoped no one had noticed—that he crossed the distance with even, quiet steps.

"Careful," he said, his tone low but carrying a note of formality. His gaze flicked briefly toward the table of cakes and drinks. "Some of these dishes are more treacherous than the halls beneath Thule."

He inclined his head slightly, a gesture of respect. "If you'd prefer not to face them alone, I can keep company while I make my rounds. I am here in a security capacity, after all—though keeping a watchful eye on a fellow vod is never a burden."


Korda remained upright beside her, not imposing but clearly present, eyes still sweeping the room even as he offered the faintest curve of dry amusement at the spread before them.

Soliane Desari Aether Verd Domina Prime Kirae Orade Sidonia Kurayami Bloodborn Tan'yill Vizsla Sula Skirata