Populate Oath and Iron | SO Populate of Kiffu

[Irina Jesart]

Tags: Revna Marr Varin Mortifer Lysander von Ascania Darth Prazutis Naedira Darcrath Gerwald Lechner Aerik Lechner Hasuras Na-Gerra Taeli Raaf
Wearing: XX

Irina followed Gerwald’s gaze, his words washing over her as she watched the Legionnaires their laughter echoing as they exchanged stories, indulging in the feat that was for them. Yes, the Sith would descend and use this as an opportunity to aggravate rivalries or build new alliances but without the warriors of the Legions, they would not be here.

When Gerwald’s attention moved to her she met his golden gaze, listening intently before her gaze swept over them once more, a smile curving her lips.

"Let them see your scars."

The scar Aerik had given her on Brosi when he had lost control of the wolf was on display for all to see, the dress did nothing to hide it and Irina did not care. Aerik might when he saw her, but for her it was a mark of something they had survived, something that had made them stronger.

Irina bowed as Gerwald introduced them to the Lady Revna. “My Lady.” she greeted her attention shifting to Varin, giving him a small smile. “Muri an ziji j'us Varin, j'us kiara muru.” she greeted softly, the last she had seen him, he had been recovering from his ordeal at the hands of Allan Allhune, one she had not yet been able to trace, despite offering her help to do so.

Lysander joined them, and Irina graced him with a small nod.

Something pulled at her attention, Aerik’s voice threading along their bond, pulling her attention away as she looked around hoping to spot him when a voice behind them pulled her attention.

"Naedira."

<< “I will soon, but your Master is here.” >>

The words sent back to Aerik were clipped, uncertain at what might unfold. Her hands unfolded from the small of her back, her gaze flicked once to Gerwald before Irina’s feet shifted, subtle enough to be nothing more than a lady adjust the weight of her feet in heels, but for a warrior, it was the setting of her stance, readiness for trouble.

Despite everything Prazutis represented, Irina had to admire the arrogance that granted him the audacity to address the woman he had killed.

But not half as much as she admired Nae’s response.

Cool, calm and collected, she spoke to him like he was just another guest, someone not entirely worth her time but that duty demanded she speak to. Irina smiled. She was wonderful.

 

[Darth Empyrean]

Tag | Srina Talon

"Come now, my moon and stars. When have I ever mastered over you?", he grinned between skillful and all too close dodges. There was a poor dance that involved dodging your partners feet as they stomped, and there was great dances that carried a touch too much hostility. This was clearly in the latter.​

​

Luckily for his sake, he had fallen into the rememberance of his body well. As the Dead God, Empyrean was not dexterous, and his speed was more a consequence of sufficient application of the Force. As the Emperor Reborn, his carefully constructed body could close the gap with remarkable ease. It was not physicality that he lacked compared to his prior form, and the dance benefitted from exactly that.​

​

"Then I think it is only fair to let them decide."​

​

Where the Dread Empress sought to harm him, and as close as she came, Empyrean's own responses were half and less. A hand carefully placed through her defenses to cradle her cheek, a twist that dragged her into a hold from both of his arms, a twist and dip that left her off balance. The Echani respected martial prowess, but Empyrean was not Echani - he only mirrored it out of respect and love for his wife. All he really cared to do was hold her close, no matter how hard she tried to push him away.​

​

"Let us hope they come to a decision sooner than later - I'd love to show them, and you, how much of Empyrean still remains."​

 

[Horus Rhyne]

Sophia of House Marr | Darth Sycophantia

Oh, yeah, there were things going over his head, alright.

But that was a common occurrence when he slid his hand into a Sith viper nest. And yet, Horus did it over and over and over again. With no hesitation, because it meant being close to Sophia. Every viper bite and scratch was worth it, as long as it meant being together.

When Sycophantia called Sophia a 'girl', his eyebrows went up.

When she mentioned being in the process of a backhand, his own grip around Sophia tightened a fraction.

The only thing that kept Horus in check was that Sophia seemed to have it well in hand. Clearly she knew exactly where his feelings (and then actions) would be leading, because right as he was about to say something... or worse do something-

Sophia reached up with that same perfectly manicured hand and tapped his cheek. Her nails flexed for a moment but she refrained from pressing it further…Even though, she suspected a little blood spilled would make the Twi'lek feel a lot better.

"Bad Horus."

The light slap to his face mollified him slightly.

"Woof, woof." Horus said dead-pan, his eyes still on the Twi'lek, but then leaning in to kiss Sophia on the cheek.

Then a slow stretch as he allowed himself to relax again.

"Shall we go and grab something to drink, Sophia? Or do you want to show her a few more corners of the room?" He was already looking past it all towards the buffet.

 

[Varin Mortifer]

VARIN MORTIFER

Equipment: Durum Mantle | Black Blade of Chandrila | Eye of The Dragon | Heavy Sith Mace | Cross Guard Broadsaber

Varin had just finished what he had sensed, what he had felt, when a voice had pulled his attention, a woman of what seemed to be of high influence within the Sith. Varin could easily see the command for respect and authority she held. When she greeted the both of them Varin said nothing but dipped his head towards her. Most of her words directed to Revna and not him, he had learned at a young age most of the time it was best to speak when directed to, under most circumstances.

Lady Raaf, he heard Revna call her. Varin took a mental note and remembered what she wore, more importantly he noted the signature, or lack thereof she had about her. Memorized it and tucked it away for now.

That was when Lysander came by, a small smile lifting Varin's lips.

“Brother, it is good to see you here. A welcome familiar face really.”

His hand gently placed over his shoulder with a slight squeeze. One of the few people he would truly call an ally and a true friend, someone who had stared death in the face with Varin and spat back in its eye.

When Lady Raaf spoke of Varin, his attention pulled back to her with a small nod. Truth be told he did not know how to take the compliment, more than anything it seemed to slightly confuse him. But he stuffed the feeling within himself.

Varin felt the presence of Lord Lechner approaching with a woman at his side, he could see the connection between the two and his head dipped low and slow before the both of them.

“A pleasure to meet you, Lady Darcath.”

When Lady Revna spoke of Lord Lechner's apprentice Varin's gaze turned to Irina.

“It is good to see you again, Irina, I hope your studies have shown you much.”

When she spoke High Sith to him a smirk appeared on his face.

"Oi tuti muri an tiri winwi kair tashi atoki, diâ an tuti tsatus an ana ant ki sawas datar."

Everything seemed to be welcoming and well going for now, until that presence. Like a shift in the currents of the force itself, a whisper that graced the ears of the entire room yet spoke to a single person. Varin felt the tension in the air, his gaze sharpening ever so slightly, his hand gently tightening on his glass. He could tell this guest was not entirely welcomed, there was a history. Something he would not pry about right now.

The exchange between Naedira and this mountainous man had its own edge compared to the rest of the blade in the room.

Then a booming voice tore his gaze away before a slap to his back thundered through the room, Na Gerra had come and made himself known to everyone.

Varin's body settled into the impact, standing like a stone wall. Another smirk upon his face.

“Hasuras Na Gerra”

His voice was deep and quiet before his hand slapped the pauldron upon his shoulder with a thunderous clap.

“How fares the Vahlan Warlord?”

Revna Marr | Lysander von Ascania | Gerwald Lechner | Naedira Darcrath | Taeli Raaf | Irina Jesart | Hasuras Na-Gerra | Darth Prazutis​

 

[Gerwald Lechner]

WEARING: This
WEAPONS: Ferrum Solus | Blodmåne | Strømafbryder
SHIP: Vigfjall
TAG: Naedira Darcrath | Revna Marr | Varin Mortifer | Irina Jesart | Lysander von Ascania | Hasuras Na-Gerra | Darth Prazutis | OPEN

Life was made for the living, and those who celebrated the breath which still filled their lungs had been given cause to cling to it. Even as scenes of war and victory played out across towering holoprojectors suspended above the feast hall, those gathered beneath them drew deep of the one lesson every warrior eventually learned.

Living was everything.

Legionnaires packed long banquet tables overflowing with roasted meats, black bread, and spiced drink while veterans shouted old war songs across the hall. Younger soldiers tried and failed to match them drink for drink as servants moved between the gathered warriors carrying fresh platters from the kitchens deeper within the Spire. Sith nobility mixed freely with officers still carrying fresh scars from recent campaigns while the distant storm over Jutrand rolled against the tower around them.

Survival was not the goal. That was a minimal standard, a lazy approach to the spoils of war, success, and domination. Those gathered embraced the wonder of living each moment. Every second they walked among the plane of the living was a gift. They all knew the harsh truth that death would claim them one day. They would fall in battle, succumb to disease, or old age would slowly suffocate them.

Gerwald smiled when Naedira took his hand. His fingers closed around hers immediately while his thumb brushed once across the back of her hand as though reassuring himself she truly stood beside him. His wolf stirred as she neared once more. It clawed at the guilt the warrior felt with every departure and every extended absence.

“For now.”

The words drew a faint exhale from him. Gerwald lowered his head briefly until his brow rested against her temple for the space of a single breath before his eyes closed.

He felt the sting, but even he could not deny the truth. It was a sword that cut far too often. Duty would make its demands, and he would answer. The Dread Wolf had it drilled into him that duty was the most important thing. The voice reminding him had always been hers.

She had demanded he end his pursuit many times because the Confederacy was greater.

Each time he found a veil in the nether to bring her back, she pushed him away. The Devourer had her then. Finding a way for her to cross back over had never been the issue, not as long as the ring her soul had been bound to was around his neck. It anchored her to his world. He was that anchor now. The Jewel around the neck which carried his essence kept her wolf from tearing her apart from the inside.

“Fyrirgef mér.”

The apology was quiet. Honest.

His fingers tightened slightly around hers before he finally released a slow breath.

Srina Talon would call, and Gerwald would answer. It had been that way since she ensured he recovered from the damage done to him at the hand of Darth Prazutis the Mountain. His presence was not wanted in this abode, and yet he was present. He was close.

Death was present.

The circle around them continued to shift beneath the noise of the feast. Revna stood poised beside her apprentice while Irina settled subtly into readiness near Gerwald’s flank, the adjustment in her stance slight enough to pass as elegance to most eyes. Nearby legionnaires pretended not to watch while watching all the same. Veterans of the Dreadborne tracked the Mountain carefully over raised cups and half finished conversations while younger wolves fell quiet beneath the tension settling into the space around him.

Yet the celebration stubbornly endured around them.

Music still rolled through the Spire beneath the storm dark skyline beyond the glass walls. Servants crossed between banquet tables carrying fresh platters and bottles while laughter burst from one of the lower halls where another drinking contest had apparently gone poorly for someone involved. The city of Jutrand burned endlessly beyond the towering windows while old ghosts circled one another beneath the feast of the living.

The Dread Wolf acknowledged the way his mate interacted with each and gave her the space to do so. She was not a jewel to adorn his side. Naedira was a warrior in her own right. The Endless Knight graced the room and amplified her mate. She could have his seat if she wished it, and none would protest.

Gerwald was happy for her to meet Revna, however the introductions were cut short. As he turned to introduce Irina Jesart properly, the Shadow of the Mountain moved within their orbit.

Naedira became tense. Her grip tightened subtly against Gerwald’s arm. The reaction pulled the wolf to the surface instantly. One of his hands closed over hers where it rested against him while the other settled firmly against the small of her back as the Mountain approached. A low growl escaped Gerwald’s throat before he could fully suppress it.

He could feel the memories rush forward. Regret settled heavily inside him once more. He had not been at Naedira’s side on Eshan, though she insisted she was glad he had been spared from witnessing it. There had been no excuse for his absence aboard the Fortessa beyond the one word he had come to despise most.

Duty.

Naedira was right that he would always answer, and he hated himself for it.

She diffused the situation with her words. Gerwald glanced toward her briefly as she spoke, some mixture of admiration and restrained violence settling behind his golden gaze. Naedira always had been better with words than he was. Her talent for politics reached farther than his ever would. Where Gerwald had struggled to learn diplomacy, it came naturally to her. That did not diminish the ferocity behind her stare or the violence lurking beneath her skin.

Prazutis was bold, but Naedira had made Gerwald promise he would not go near the man. This meeting could not be helped. War forced them into the same circles, but as far as he could control, the Dread Wolf had kept his oath.

For the sake of their son, he would restrain himself further still. He could not control what Aerik chose to do, nor the path his son intended to walk, but Gerwald would watch carefully. The Dread Wolf swallowed his hatred and buried the anger threatening to rise within him.

Instead something else settled into its place.

Pride.

For all his power and boasting, Naedira lived, Gerwald had survived, and the Mountain had failed.

His gaze turned briefly back toward Revna Marr .

“This is indeed my apprentice, Irina Jesart .”

His hand remained steady at Naedira’s back as golden eyes settled once more upon the Mountain.

“You always did know how to make an impression.”

The corner of Gerwald’s mouth turned upward faintly, though no warmth ever reached his eyes. Around them the feast slowly reclaimed its rhythm. Music rose once more beneath the vaulted ceilings while conversations returned cautiously to nearby tables. Somewhere deeper in the hall laughter erupted again as though death itself had not briefly stepped into their orbit.

 

[Torvald]

TORVALD

His head was already spinning, a few drinks before the arrival a bit of a preparty before he made his way to the celebration, the remembrance of Woostri and its great battles.

He remembered it like it was…well truth be told it was all fuzzy. But he remembered bits and pieces of it. Like the blaster fire, the explosions the delectable meat from the screaming armies that saw him clawing his way to them.

…or was that Brosi? Or was it somewhere else?

Ah what the hell, it was a celebration and he would not waste it, especially if Gerwald Lechner was funding the booze.

Never say no to free booze.

The thought swirled in his head driving a chuckle as he bumped into some lady.

“Pardon me lass, I am looking for the Iron Court, you see, I am of high establishment and I am sure they are all just itching to meet me.”

That was when his blurry double vision started to clear, the pale mask, the heavy robes, the look of someone about to burst.

“Why, Lord Strosius! Why are you wearing that dress?!”

He belched, the scent of mead and cooked meats hovering in the air as he spoke.

Then his gaze fell upon the larger armored…fellow?

“Excuse me uh…sir? Madam?-”

He squinted as he looked closer, uncomfortably close. His icy blue eyes eyeing the woman's armor with his…eyes of course.

“Such interesting armor you got there.”

He looked at his teeth within its reflection.

“No food stuck in there, thats good.”

He bellowed a hearty laugh that echoed across the room causing glances to stir his way.

Direct Tags: Darth Strosius | Lirka Ka

(Really the tags are fully open since everyone can hear him though.)​

 

[Delvin jeth]

Attire: x weapon: lightsaber
Tag: Safir

Delvin sat there as safir walked up "thats because i prefer to remain off the Galactic stage" the arkanian geneticist said sitting there looking at him. "But also because most of those names you know are in positions of power and have either done horrible things or made powerful enemies" delvin said as he sipped his drink. "My name is delvin by the way" he said sitting there with no need to prove anything.

He was to see what the fuss was with all the big wigs of the sith empire they wherent as bad as he thought But that was a surface level diagnosis they where sith after all. Most here had committed atrocities of some kind or another the arkanian wouldn't deny that as he sat there in his dark clothing as he looked over the crowd. Of sith who where rubbing elbows with eachother and giving greetings.

 

[Darth Prazutis]

Everything fell away.

The revelry of the Obsidian Spire's celebration surrounding them, the melodious music humming gently in the air, the clinking of crystal and the hum of voices celebrating the glory of the Sith Empire. Everything fell away the moment the conversation ended, and Naedira spun around and faced Him. The very moment their eyes met it was as if time had stopped then. The Dark Lord of the Sith could feel their eyes on His form, feel how the looks washed over Him, feel the burning hatred that poured off several in the assembled group. It ignited something deep within the giants form that was as deep as the very genes that comprised Him. The hunger, the suppressed desire for violence, for the spilling of blood, craving for battle. Every ounce of Him was born for war, bred for the ultra-violence that annihilation war brought forth. The very moment the She-Wolfs eyes revealed her defiance, unveiled what she kept hidden away. It combined with the storm of hatred pouring off the Dread Wolf and the Queen of Korriban, the uncertainty of Varin Mortifer, the calm of Irina was barely felt.​

​

All that existed was hate.​

​

The deepest depths of His form craved for her to let it all out, to come for vengeance against her butcher. It craved for all of them all at once, every single one of them. The whole of the Dreadborne legion let them come, let them detonate the spire trying to kill the Elysian Grandeval Mortarch, let them glass the city trying to erase Him. Let them do it right with the Sith Empress Srina Talon so very close, let hatred boil over. Because then? When they'd failed to bring down the Dark Titan, when all their efforts failed, that was when He could unleash a monster of His own, while the Empress consigned their lives to oblivion, she would know such action would demand a response. The gleaming topaz of her eyes met the blazing molten fury of His own, a darkness so deep it bloomed like suns in His eyes, as if it threatened to explode.​

​

Fury remained contained beneath the polished veneer of the Lord of Lies, banked behind practiced smiles and courtly charm. Yet beneath that surface, beneath the cultured warmth and measured civility, the abyss strained hungrily against its chains. Hatred poured from them in waves and Prazutis drank deeply of it, savoring every ounce of bitterness they carried for Him. It was intoxicating. Familiar. Honest. The She Wolf's words lingered between them like the edge of a knife dressed in silk, and the Dark Lord answered her innuendo with a soft laugh that never once reached the molten fury in His eyes. "Only the best kind, Naedira." The giant mused smoothly. "Though I've always believed some things are best enjoyed slowly…left to simmer and burn before the final carving." His gaze drifted then toward Gerwald Lechner, studying the Dread Wolf with quiet amusement. Even now the beast restrained itself behind clenched restraint and brittle control. Admirable, perhaps. Necessary certainly. Prazutis knew intimately what hid beneath that restraint. After all, years ago He had peeled the wolf apart layer by layer and listened to what remained howl beneath His hands.​

​

"Impressions matter, my friend." The Shadow Hand continued calmly. "One must always understand the room before rushing headlong into ruin." Another subtle prod. Another reminder, before His focus returned to Naedira. "Your hospitality truly is remarkable." He said softly. "It has been far too long since we last shared a floor together." Then, at last, the giant extended a gloved hand toward her. "Come." Prazutis offered warmly, almost gently. "Dance with me." The words themselves were polite. The meaning beneath them was not. "Surely death hasn't made you forget the steps." His burning gaze slid once more toward Gerwald then, the faintest ghost of a smile touching His lips. "Do not concern yourself, Gerwald." The Dark Lord said smoothly. "I'll return her to you." A pause. "In better condition than the last time."​

​

Gerwald Lechner | Naedira Darcrath | Irina Jesart | Revna Marr | Varin Mortifer | Hasuras Na-Gerra | Lysander von Ascania ​

 

[Allan Alhune]

WOLF'S REVEL​

How unfortunate one of the guests would not be making it tonight, fortunately for them their presence was not wasted. Serving enough to feed the man who would now enter the ballroom, dressed in fine black robes.

He moved like a shadow through the crowd like a sharpened blade through flesh, opening a fresh wound on the floor.

Allan had arrived, and he did not come for the pleasures of the spire. It was to keep an eye on a certain someone. To see how they were holding up after their small experience within The Box.

Allan remembered it like it was yesterday, the chilling cold that weakened the boy, the sound of popping as he pulled his arms out of their sockets, but most importantly of all…the slow faint silencing of a heart beat he would not let end.

The boy was a feast when it came to suffering, everything had gone according to plan…almost everything.

His Master was displeased with the outcome of Varin's escape and his rescue and has deemed that the boy needed more…supervision.

A servant passed near him with a tray of drinks that he so delicately partook from. The bubbling liquids aroma touching his senses bringing forth a feeling of…and it was gone.

The feeling of something sweet had nothing compared to the feeling of the hunt. Of feeling the warm crimson water of life to spill within his mouth.

The guest he had partaken from was merely something to tide him over. Afterall…who would miss a lowly second legion member who had not even seen a true battle yet. The young pup certainly had a new flavor to him.

Oh well.

Allan continued to walk past the various tables of food and drink, past the wailings of warriors too drunk to know what he was here for. He paid them no heed. He kept his stride.

He could sense Varin within the celebration, could sense the beings around him. There was a time and a place to strike and now would not be the time. Instead he would just watch and see how everything played out.

A young man accompanied by a woman with dark hair. He could sense the wolf within him, fiery and wild. The thought brought a dark smile to his face. He slowly approached like a silent ghost, the temperature around him dropping if only a few degrees, but it was noticeable.

“A lovely home your father has, young Lechner. To whatever is the occasion for to you? What do you see it as?”

A cold smile appeared on his face revealing fangs upon his canines. The fingers of his metallic prosthetic arm gently tapped the rim of his glass. As he spoke the scent of blood could be noticeable to Aerik from his breath.

Aerik Lechner | Skadi Lightbane​

 

[Quinn Varanin]

//: Mercy //:

It wasn’t instinct that told her that the flick was coming, it was a common exchange between the two. Quinn could avoid it, but she allowed the flick to make contact with her forehead. Her eyes fluttered back towards Mercy with an annoyed, but amused smirk. The mention of the graspborn made the woman’s smirk widen. She was aware of them, even understood their gusto about their Lord.

But she didn’t worry about their rage or their zealous worship. She mentally evaluated most of them, and found none extraordinary. While it was obvious that Mercy perhaps included the young Echani Queen in her list of followers; Quinn’s affections were for Mercy. Not what she represented, and not for that forsaken ‘Star-Arm’.

The small little red patch where Mercy’s finger had made contact with Quinn’s forehead soon began to fade. Quinn’s attention, as Mercy had intended, was back on her. Empyrean and Srina’s dance began, and while Quinn wanted to watch, her attention remained focused on the Empress of the Core.

“Well you have my full attention,” she leaned in, taking the space next to her paramour. “Its been some time since I’ve seen you, so I’m looking forward to being entertained by your conquests.” Her smile from earlier softened as she looked up.

As much as she at times found frustration with the half-Firrerrio, there was no denying that she’d always have a bit of the Sith Princess’ heart.

“Are you planning on staying on the Spire or Jutrand?” Quinn questioned, she did her best not to hint at the inkling of hope that the woman was sticking around.

“If your feet are burning for the stars… Perhaps I can tempt you to Eshan for a vacation?”

 

[Revna Marr]

Wearing: Dress

Direct Tags: Naedira Darcrath // Gerwald Lechner // Varin Mortifer // Irina Jesart
// Hasuras Na-Gerra // Darth Prazutis ​

Lady Darcrath greeted Revna more formally, a bow of the head that lasted a touch longer than was necessary, as well as the young woman Gerwald called Irina. This was the part of being royalty, of being in the high court, that Revna despised. If she was sitting on her own seat of power, she would accept such formalities, albeit begrudgingly. But here, in their house? It felt wrong.

She should have been the one holding a bow longer than necessary. This was their domain, after all. Revna was simply a guest.

“I hope they were good things -” Revna replied to the Lady’s first comment, a somewhat playful smile tugging her kohl dabbed lips to one side. She made sure to exhibit none of the courtly aloofness that plagued Sith nobles. She was content to be herself, though still respectful to the Lord and Lady of the Spire.

"Both you and your apprentice are most welcome. Please, let me know if there is anything you need."

“You have done everything and more that could possibly be needed, my Lady, by simply allowing us into your home.” Revna replied in kind, as Lady Darcrath turned to address others who were around Revna, and the Vahla woman caught Irina and Varin speaking in High Sith to one another. She flickered her gaze towards them both, a faint smile of knowing passing across her face.

Clearly, they knew each other better than being mere acquaintances. Revna was not too surprised; she did not police who her Apprentice engaged with, choosing to let him forge his own alliances without her guidance or direction. He learned best by doing things on his own, learning lessons from first hand experience - exactly how she did.

Her musings on this were cut short by the arrival of the Shadow Hand, however. And within a blink of an eye, all attention turned towards the giant Sith Lord as he focused solely upon Gerwald’s mate. Revna felt the collective tension ripple through those around her, in those stationed around the chamber. Gerwald’s Legionnaires paused to watch, waiting for the command to engage should their Lord ask it of them.

No one moved, however. This was a moment between Prazutis and Lady Darcrath, and their history ran deep. To Revna’s pleasant surprise, the Lady of the Spire handled the Mountain with all the respect that a Hostess could provide, smooth though edged with distaste.

The tension seemed to ebb away slightly, though it still lingered on the edges, just in case action would be needed. As if to declare that Prazutis’s presence was little more than an interruption to the gathered circle, Gerwald turned his attention briefly to Revna to respond to her question, stating that Irina was indeed his Apprentice, before greeting the Mountain in turn.

A loud booming voice, somewhat recognizable, fell across the small gathering and Revna partially turned to see another giant of a man clap Varin on the shoulder. She recognized the newcomer instantly, who seemed oblivious to the tension that was currently threading through those gathered.

Either that, or Gerra didn’t care. Probably the latter.

“Gerra, a pleasure to see you again, kin.” Revna said to the Vahlan warlord. The last time she had seen him was on Darth Nefaron’s fortress world of Anoat. The pirate warlord had joined her in poking Nefaron a bit, a move which had established a rivalry between her and the other Sith Lord. “I see you and your warriors made it out of Nefaron’s fortress world. He turned a beast loose on me at the very end, but the fool couldn’t control it. You should have seen it…he threw him around like a ragdoll…was quite amusing.” She said, before her attention turned towards yet another loud booming voice.

She watched, with more than a little mirth, as some drunken man who seemed to be a part of Gerwald’s warriors, stumbled right into the path of her Father, who had since become engaged with none other than Lirka Ka - another one of their hated foes. She observed that interaction for a little bit, tipping her glass back for a deeper drink this time, as she turned her fiery orbs back towards Prazutis, Lady Darcrath, and Gerwald. She listened to their conversation, tracking the seemingly friendly words, but could tell that there were barbs hidden beneath respectful words and smiles.

-Your mate has a spine of steel, Gerwald. I am impressed with how…gracious she is being with the Dog- Revna passed the telepathic message towards Lord Lechner. She continued to observe their interactions, and her eyebrows fairly disappeared inside her hairline when she heard Prazutis bid Lady Darcrath to join him on a dance, promising Gerwald that he would return her to him in better condition than the last time.

- ...quite bold, isn’t he? This is what unchecked power gives to one such as he, the thought that one can go anywhere they please without consequence, because they believe themselves superior to all others… - The observation drifted from Revna’s thoughts and into Gerwald’s, a silent conversation hidden behind observant eyes. Revna watched the interaction for a moment longer, before she turned her attention elsewhere.

Her gaze drifted and then settled upon the dancing figures of Srina and the white haired man who had become her dance partner. She watched them, and noticed how…aggressive…their dancing had become. More like a battle, than a dance - movements that were mirrored and matched, where a blade would have belonged in their grip instead of each other’s hands. They knew each other… Revna observed to herself quietly. Her sharp mind began to place pieces of the puzzle together, but she didn’t presume to know who the Empress’s dance partner was. She had a suspicion, but that is all it would remain to be, for the time being. ​

 

[Hasuras Na-Gerra]

Where I have passed, grass will never grow again.

​

“How fares the Vahlan Warlord?”

"Fat and gluted on the Core's wealth," Gerra replied, slapping his own stomach with a chuckle.

After they took the treasure fleet containing the vast riches of the Galactic Empire in the Rift, Gerra's fleets had been filled to brimming with aurodium bars bearing imperial markings.

Varin looked as though he'd put on even more muscle, moving from strength to strength with every passing month no doubt.

“Gerra, a pleasure to see you again, kin.” Revna said to the Vahlan warlord. The last time she had seen him was on Darth Nefaron’s fortress world of Anoat. The pirate warlord had joined her in poking Nefaron a bit, a move which had established a rivalry between her and the other Sith Lord. “I see you and your warriors made it out of Nefaron’s fortress world. He turned a beast loose on me at the very end, but the fool couldn’t control it. You should have seen it…he threw him around like a ragdoll…was quite amusing.” She said, before her attention turned towards yet another loud booming voice.

Gerra looked down, eyes flashing with intensity, "I've no doubt you did. Nefaron was a worthy foe. His fortress the only one so far to have withstood the Ember of Vahl. It is well you made it out in the fighting."

The hulking warlord felt the simmering tension all around the gathering. He suspected if he reached into the Force and used his powers of shatterpoint that he might see all the various tenuous fracture lines that might splinter the affair into open violence. Some, however, needed no power in the Force to see - chief among them Naedira Darcrath 's animosity toward Darth Prazutis .

Gerra cocked his head, locks of his fiery mane swaying.

So many rivalries gathered under one roof...

He sighed.

If only Meliant were here...

 

[Darth Sycophantia]

​

[]

Comfortable Liar - by Chevelle

Tag: Sophia of House Marr - Horus Rhyne

I took a measured step backward, crimson eyes narrowing beneath the dim glow of the chamber as the black-haired girl rambles on about corners, whispers, and the possibility of me speaking to shadows only I can see. For a fleeting moment, genuine confusion coils through my expression, the sort that rarely dares show itself upon a Sith visage.

Yet her words quickly dissolve into meaningless noise as I abruptly lean sideways, reaching out with complete casualness to pinch the cheek of the male Sith politician standing beside me, my black-clawed fingers pressing against his face with the same detached curiosity one might use to test the texture of silk. I stare at him for a long second before a crooked grin slowly creeps across my lips.

"Ah, good," I murmured in amused, theatrical tones, releasing his cheek with a soft pat. "You are real. My mind is not betraying me quite yet." My attention then lazily drifts back toward him while gesturing vaguely toward the girl and her obedient little pet toy. "Now then, friend, let us return to the true matter at hand, you being the first perpetrator foolish enough to interrupt my conversation..."

I catch only the final remnants of the annoying pet toy's words just as he leaned close to the black-haired girl, pressing a soft peck against her cheek with the sort of tenderness so alien to my sensibilities that it nearly startles me more than a lightsaber drawn in darkness. One of my brows slowly arches upward while I stand beneath the cold glow of flickering lights, the shadows of ancient stone and durasteel stretching around my silhouette like grasping claws.

Ah, so this is what the girl meant earlier about listening and learning. Curious. Affection displayed so openly, so casually, without manipulation hidden beneath every gesture. The notion hangs before me like some forbidden relic excavated from a forgotten tomb world, and for a brief moment I simply observe in silence, crimson eyes narrowing not with anger, but intrigue.

I cocked my head slightly toward the girl, black lips curling into the faintest amused smile as the atmosphere hums with dark side tension around me. "Just a friend?" I ask in near-curious tones, the words rolling from my tongue with theatrical skepticism. "Mm, then we differ greatly on what qualifies as friendship."

My gaze sardonically drifts toward the eager little pet beside her before I wave a dismissive hand through the air, the long sleeves of my black, leather robes flowing like funeral shrouds. "Still, go have that drink with your pet…" I pause deliberately, allowing the corner of my mouth to twitch upward in a near smile posture before correcting myself with mock grace. "I mean, friend."

 

[Skadi Lightbane]

Tags:
Aerik Lechner // Irina Jesart // Allan Alhune ​

“As it tends to do.” Skadi said lightly in response to Aerik’s comment about the drinking being the reason behind the start of the fighting, usually. She knew very well what people were capable of, once the influence of hard drink removed their barriers that typically kept them mostly civil.

Skadi continued to move alongside Aerik, happy to go wherever he went; this was his home, after all. He was her guide, and she was more than content to look pretty on his arm. She held herself with quiet confidence that came when a woman was proud to be beside a man she respected and trusted. She noticed some of the stares they both received, but she ignored them for the most part. Let them stare, let them whisper, she thought.

Laughter from a nearby group of warriors drew Skadi’s attention; she watched how the Legionnaires interacted with one another, the camaraderie between them. Their banter and bickering back and forth was the heart of the feasting hall - it had been in her Father’s hall, and clearly it was the same here too. It made her smile.
​

“She is probably with my father. He tends to keep her close during gatherings like this.” Aerik said in response to her question about where Irina might be. "Which means she is either surviving the politics better than I would or pretending she is.”

“Hmm…then we should save her, shouldn’t we?” she said with an upturn of her lips, glancing around herself once more to take in the sights, the sounds, the smells. Her belly rumbled beneath the fine dress she wore, the stirrings of hunger. She was always so hungry these days.

“Do you enjoy being home, Aerik?” Skadi asked after several moments of silence, returning her gaze back to him with a curious expression on her face. Though, she had to admit, a part of her was a little sad that she would not be able to bring him to her home, to have him experience her culture, her people - their way of life. The fires and feasting of her Father’s Hall. But she pushed that somber musing aside for the time being. She was here to enjoy his company and Irina’s, if she was able to join them.

“Also, I would like to find something to eat. I am very hungry…” Skadi admitted to Aerik, hopeful that he might guide her towards the tables laden with food or treats, but before any such thing could happen, she noticed the temperature drop around them - subtly, but noticeably enough to be felt. Arriving with that chill was a man - tall, white haired, dark skinned with violet eyes - and a presence about him that immediately made a warning sign go off in her mind. She couldn't quite explain why she was unsettled by the arrival of this new presence, but her grip around Aerik's arm tightened ever so slightly as the stranger addressed Aerik, his smile cold and predatory, all but ignoring her presence there.

That was fine by her - it gave her time to study the newcomer, and assess him the way her Mother had taught her how to read a Hall, and those within it, without giving herself away.
​

 

[Darth Strosius]

Tags: Lirka Ka / Torvald / Open!
--------------------------------------------

Darth Strosius surveyed the room with a scowl that somehow managed to seep through His mask and into the rest of His posture. He was simply unable to resist throwing a glare at whomever fell into His hidden gaze that proved to be too loud, gaudy, or familiar at any given moment. It wasn't until He spotted not only His daughter Revna but her apprentice Varin across the way that His expression melted from scorn into surprise. What in the world was she doing here? And with the poor boy in tow?!

Neither of them should be at any 'civil' gatherings, it was a tedious and dreadful task that He alone undertook to spare them the threat. He was going to have pull the both of them out of there before someone-and someone had already noticed them. "Raaf." A shatter reached His ears before the pain in His hand did, idly glancing down to see what had once been a wine glass in His grasp was now little more than a few large shards dug into His palm and coating the glove in whatever alcohol had been within.

The gall of her to just prance around His apprentice and threaten not only her but Varin as well, thinking that she was so safe in this mire of societal convention. Darth Strosius took a step forward, all too prepared to prove her wrong by making her head roll across the floor, but the sound of an even heavier footfall than His own forced Him to pause. A glance confirmed what His senses suspected and His hidden scowl turned into a full on sneer. "Well if they allow pets such as yourself in then clearly they don't have any standards at all."

He supposed that every Dark Councilor was to malign Him today. At least the mongrel Ka had the sense to dress properly for the occasion He supposed. "'Playing' implies that the court hasn't already been won. There are no moves to be made, only winners to be begged at for a slice of their attention and consideration. An art that you are of course infinitely more skilled at than I, wretch." As He all but spat a response back, He idly dug one of the shards out of His hand and halfheartedly flicked it towards the councilor's drink with His thumb.

Before Darth Strosius could lash out properly though a distinctly inebriated all turned His fuming breath into a frustrated sigh. "Robes, Lord Torvald. They are robes. The ones that I always wear." An eyebrow quirked beneath His mask at the...meeting of Torvald and Lirka Ka, soon blooming into a slight smirk. "Oh you haven't seen the Zambrano's favorite minion before? Yes this is her, they even set her up a spot on the Dark Council you know. Couldn't be bothered to hold the position themselves so they got one of their little underlings to do it and Councilor Ka was the lucky one."

 

[Aerik Lechner]

Wearing: This | Weapons: Lightsaber | Knife
TAG: Skadi Lightbane | Irina Jesart | Allan Alhune​

Hunger was a sensation Aerik understood better than most emotions.

The feast laid out across the obsidian tables tempted him constantly despite the crowded room around them. Spiced meats still hissed faintly from heated platters while darker sauces, roasted roots, fresh breads, and rich wines filled the air with enough aroma to make his stomach tighten every time he breathed in. His mother had always ensured guests left the Spire fed whether they were nobles, Sith, or legionnaires fresh from war.

The scent alone nearly overpowered the conversation around him.

When Skadi admitted she was hungry, the corner of Aerik’s mouth lifted faintly.

“I could probably eat half the table myself.”

The answer came easier than most things had that evening.

There was comfort in this part of the gathering. Firelight rolled across polished black stone while warriors laughed too loudly after too much liquor. Beneath the elegance his parents had built around the evening, the rougher nature of the Dreadborne still lived openly.

Aerik nodded when Skadi agreed they should find Irina.

The familiar warmth of their bond stirred almost immediately afterward.

<< “Prazutis is with my mother and father?” >>

The question reached across the connection before he fully realized he had sent it.

Irina’s answer hit harder than expected.

Color faded subtly from Aerik’s face while tension pulled sharply through his shoulders. Bright eyes shifted toward Skadi instinctively, and there was no hiding the concern there after everything they had already survived together.

Prazutis standing beside Gerwald Lechner was unsettling enough. Prazutis standing beside both of his parents inside his home felt far worse.

Aerik respected his master and understood the power he carried, but that understanding had never removed the unease beneath it. Darth Prazutis possessed a presence that unsettled instinct itself. Even now, memories surfaced too easily of standing before the man while feeling picked apart beneath calm eyes that seemed capable of seeing every weakness hidden beneath flesh and bone.

“Our master is with them as well,” Aerik said quietly. “Irina says hello.”

There was little time to recover from the news before the temperature around them shifted.

Warmth from the fire pits weakened beneath a sudden chill that crawled sharply across his skin. Most in attendance would barely notice it, but the cold struck Aerik with immediate force. A sharp breath pulled into his lungs while pain tightened through his body fast enough to draw a wince from him before he could suppress it.

The cold always found him.

His jaw tightened while fingers curled briefly at his side as though trying to force heat back into flesh that suddenly felt brittle and thin. The sensation never failed to remind him that despite his strength, despite the wolf, despite the blood running through him, there were still weaknesses capable of dragging him down in moments.

Irina would feel it too through their bond.

<< “I need you. Rin. Cold.” >>

The presence approaching them felt wrong before Aerik properly looked toward the man.

There was something deeply unsettling about him that went beyond cruelty or violence. The stranger carried himself with aristocratic refinement polished smooth over something unnatural enough that Aerik immediately understood why his instincts reacted so strongly. His voice rolled easily through the conversation with cultured ease while dark clothing and measured posture gave the appearance of nobility rather than threat.

That only made the sensation worse.

Questions followed politely enough, though the nature of them immediately revealed the stranger did not understand the purpose of the gathering itself.

Or perhaps he simply did not understand the Dreadborne.

“Do the living need a reason to celebrate? If you know who my father is, then certainly you know the reputation of the Dreadborne as well.”

The answer was not intended as an insult even if the edge within it remained impossible to miss.

“We have not had the pleasure of meeting,” he continued after a moment while studying the man more carefully now. “Though you seem to know me.”