Faction Revelry in the Holy Worlds

[Madrona A’Mia]

As that lazy twirl culminated in yet more conversation, A'Mia leaned in with undisguised glee. They were finally getting somewhere. Having danced around the subject for a long while— indirect attempts at laying groundwork for budding alliance having been all but entirely overlooked in favor of the "status quo", they were moving toward something substantial at last.

"It would make the most sense to begin small— actionable steps on both sides to build trust and therefore a true sense of loyalty. Imagine the strength we could show in forming a voting bloc, in training our forces together for ground or fleet tactics. The power we could demonstrate in basic acts of unity. Not to mention all there might be to gain in cultural and resource exchange."

Her eyes had gone almost dreamy. Though A'Mia had never been the type for flights of fancy, nor even political maneuvering, it seemed that discussion of logistics such as these was a sweet spot somewhere in the middle for the odd botanical woman. Having gone distant for a brief time, that eerie gaze soon returned to Darth Strosius

"Might I respond to you more directly though? In favor of full transparency."

She was clearly seeking permission to enter his mind once more.

"You are able to utilize that connection to respond in turn— should you be open to such a thing."

 

[Rowyna Galeway]

Rowyna inclined her head first to Elmindra, the crisp white of her uniform stark against the sea of dark robes and revelry. "Admiral Xitaar," she greeted evenly. "The honor is mine. The Holy Worlds were well defended, and the Commonwealth was proud to stand alongside you in that fight."

Her gaze shifted toward the man with the half-smile and raised glass. Syntharis. His presence was all theater, but Rowyna met it with the steady calm of someone used to reading between gestures and words. She returned his salute with a slight lift of her own hand, not quite mirroring his cheer but giving ground enough for courtesy.

"Master Syntharis," she said, voice smooth, Dosuunian accent sharpening the edges. "The pleasure is mine. As for unconventional tactics…" A faint smirk tugged at the corner of her mouth. "We make do with the tools we have. Improvisation has a way of humbling even the most rigid of enemies."

Her eyes swept the hall for a brief moment, then returned to the pair. "If the Sith see fit to call it inspired innovation, I'll take that as high praise."

She was a little uncomfortable admittedly, but that was held internal. She kept her expression polite, neutral while among the Sith. "Although," she began, thinking if this would be the time and the place to broach the subject. "Perhaps, in the distant future, the Holy Worlds and the Commonwealth might gain to spend more time with one another, if at the very least, be more prepared for any other incursions into Sith space." The proposal she felt would at least begin to solidify relations between the two groups no matter the distance.

Engaging: Ufsa'ynth'aris | Elmindra Xitaar
In the Vicinity: Darth Caedes | Darth Carnifex | Srina Talon | Gerwald Lechner | Mercy | Quinn Varanin | Revna Marr et al

 

[Maiza Vex]

Theme: The Animal
Equipment: Mask | Hide Armor | Home made Leather Boots
Tags: Naamino Zuukamano | Varin Mortifer | Haro Aven | Lodd Grimmin | Glissara | Leshanna Dromar | Spirit of Korriban

---

​

She had been too distracted in her taunting of Naamino Zuukamano to notice at first that Naami's little nerd henchman Haro Aven had blown past her. As a Smirk hung on her face as her head slowly pain back forward the hulking rancor plodding through the streets at a breakneck pace. Her revenge still not sated but she could be patient but then she noticed him out in front of her.

Her smirk quickly turned back to a furious frown as her target now moved to Haro. She was focused she wanted everyone of them to feel her wrath in time. She just leaned forward again whispering to her Rancor. "You see that up." Her eyes darting to Haro. "We hunt them now."

She spoke as her and the shadow rancor sped out of the streets, the crowds roaring there still noticeable but slowly drifting in the distance. She was well aware of what was up ahead though. It was where she had been cut off by the Jedi Ala Quin the last time she had raced here.

The memories of that flooded back at her as the Rancor ran into the Ashlan Crash Site. She could do this she told herself, she wasn't afraid of anything even if she had almost died at that race twice. She could do this…..she could catch Haro and there was no Jedi here to ruin her damn day. This was her day, her time to destroy them all.

She moved cautiously down through the crash site, the rancor slowing its pace as it noticed Quaza's fear. A fear she was telling herself did not exist, but it did, she wasn't here to die herself. The Rancor slowed way down though it did start to gaining on Haro Aven who was seemingly now have trouble with his mount.

She looked behind her though as she saw Naami flying above pass her up again. Maiza growled to herself, as she looked down at her mount. It wasn't their fault she knew it, she was the only one to blame for this, this area was a terrifying experience for her, she was just a kid then who wanted to escape all of this. Just a kid who wanted to be free but was a caged animal.

And a jedi had ruined her chance at freedom and everything after that was a cascading shit storm that had led to this point. She plodded through the crash site, even moving past where she had crashed, seeing the twisted metal of the fighter she had stolen. As she moved past her eyebrow quirked a bit.

There stood a Jawa couldn't have been the same Jawa could it? She looked at them and they looked back at her, the Jawa had a newer shinier speeder bike and a cabbage cart. It saw her and it took them a moment then it started yelling something in there gibberish language. Maiza was pretty sure it was curse words, but then it saw what Maiza was riding and seemed to back off a bit though it did give her the middle finger and pulled out a weapon….

"Chit….Go Faster!" She yelled down at the Rancor. The Jawa lifted its blaster rifle and started taking sight. "Look I don't like this place but if you don't move faster the Jawa is going to kill us and that is worse damn fate then crashing into these hunk of junk ships! FASTER!"


(Rancor's pro +2 on a roll 5 or lower = 6 but -2 from the section of the course = final roll 4)

 

[Darth Strosius]

Tags: Madrona A’Mia / Open!
--------------------------------------------

Despite their continued dance, Darth Strosius was clearly focused on her response given the more relaxed pace and motions that He was leading with. The desired terms that Lady Madrona issued were simple and fairly vague, joint training would be of little issue but He doubted that there would be many resources or any cultural notions which the Order of Wonosa could provide that Korriban would want. Before He could press for further information however, letting the considerations mull over in His mind as the Neti seemed lost in thought, she offered a mental conversation once again.

The masked man let out a small hum, although the mood that it carried was unclear. "I must admit that I don't quite understand your preference for such a thing." He responded with a sigh. "Do you not find it rather intrusive? Too intimate to be used so readily and freely?" Words alone could suffice for the discussion at hand, or any discussion really. There was far too much transparency when it came to more direct mental communication, even when one had fairly solid mental barriers in place to ward off intrusion.

Darth Strosius wasn't one for vulnerability and Lady Madrona had seen far too much of Him vulnerable as it was. Any stray thought or notion that slipped into the forefront of His mind would be easy to detect and in a place such as this where His head had to be on a swivel stray thoughts were all top common. Keeping tabs on Revna, keeping wary eyes upon Carnifex and Lady Srina, trying to discern Lady Madrona in general, there was much to keep in mind indeed.

 

[Madrona A’Mia]

Faint annoyance bloomed as A'Mia was reminded once again how particular Darth Strosius was about such things. She resisted the urge to roll her eyes though, a mannerism she'd undoubtedly picked up from so much time spent in the company of Lysander and the good natured pestering he often engaged in.

The neti gave the botanical equivalent of a sigh, leaf dress and vine hair fluttering as if in a sudden breeze, then she leaned closer to rest her head against the side of his helm. It was pretense for murmured words meant only for him.

"The desire to overthrow the system and powers that be— the open hostility toward present parties you so famously harbor is that which I hoped to address in a more private way."

She answered in the surprisingly politic fashion, unusual for her given how guileless she so often was.

"As to the intimacy of sharing thought space— yes, I can understand how it might feel strange for such an individualistic organism. For me, it is second nature to mingle mind and resource with those in or adjacent to one's own Grove."

 

[Skadi Lightbane]

KORRIBAN

Aerik Lechner ~ Open​

Skadi watched the crowds below and beyond, entertained by all that she saw, as much of it was unfamiliar to the young woman. It certainly was a clash of cultures, and there was a variety on display here. She took a swig of her drink as she kept watching the beast pits, watching how they were taking on riders that were getting ready for some sort of competition. While some of the creatures caught her eye, it was the great flying beasts that really drew her attention.

They were magnificent, and she idly wondered what it would be like to hunt one.

Out of the corner of her eyes, she noticed the young man that was nearby, glance in her direction. She paid him no mind, not immediately anyway - though she observed as he took a drink of his own beverage, and the scent of something familiar struck her.

That was when she truly looked over at him, her curiosity piqued. She could have sworn she smelled mead. If there was mead here at this gathering…then she wanted some of her own.

A rattled voice coming from what appeared to be a severely damaged man in robes and armor, began speaking in a language that she wasn’t too familiar with. She caught bits and pieces of it, knew the language to be ‘Basic’ - though it wasn’t something that was spoken often by her clansmen, as they all preferred to speak in their native tongue. She arched an eyebrow as she observed the competitors lining up, some struggling to control their beast mounts. She took another deep drink from her mug, glancing back over at the man that was leaning against the rails nearby once more.

She really wanted to know if it was mead that he was drinking.

Skadi hesitated for several heartbeats, uncertain about approaching someone that was a complete stranger to her. Normally her kind kept to themselves, or with their own kin…but she was here at this celebration and as far as she was aware, she was the only one here from her clan.

She finally decided to bridge the gap, and gestured with her mug towards his own.

"Er þetta mjöður?" she asked, speaking in her native language without thinking before she paused and drew her lips into a thin line when she realized that he probably didn’t have a clue as to what she had just said.

So she tried again, but in the common language…or at least she tried to. “Hvat…uh…drikke? Mead?”

 

[Tamsin Starfall]

Theme: Wicked Ones
Wearing: Dress
Tag: Darth Anathemous | OPEN!

Tamsin had let her mind wonder off as the crowds had poured into the spire, she watched all the Sith gather and group up into their little social parties. So many faces in the crowds some she knew and others she didn't. The place filled up quickly and those in her own group had split off unknown to her. It wasn't long and she was standing all alone in the crowd.

She looked to her side to see her sister had even wandered off. She let out a deep sigh and her eyes started to scan the room for her wayward sister. Her eyes only catching a glimpse of Darth Anathemous leaving out one of the entrances follow some woman she could only see the back of the head of.

"Typical….." She muttered under her breath; she would have to stop coming to social events with that damn woman she told herself. She knew she wouldn't, she knew she would follow her sister into the deepest pit of hell just to get ditched for a succubus once they arrived.

She let out another heavy sigh and let her shoulders slump a bit as she looked around again, a small fish in a crowd of giants. She started to wander over to a view screen for the races, this one seemed to be a beast race a little less interesting to her than the fighter races of last time. Mostly because fighter crashes were so impactful and dangerous. This made the race seem like they had less stakes and it seemed there hadn't been any extreme excitement on the track, yet.

As she looked at the leader boards, she knew a few of the names on there people she had met in passing at other events when she had been a part time student on Korriban. Her eyes fixated on the screens as waiter passed by her small arm reaching up and grabbing a glass of what she assumed was wine from the tray.

 

[???]

Objective I:
Ascendent Revelries
Lysander von Ascania
​

For a few moments, Zaiya panicked, the sensation in her belly dropping as strains of fear and anxiety bubbled up her throat.

But in the next second, she felt Lysander sweep up alongside her, his firm arms steadying her balance, holding her upright when her knees buckled and threatened to give, giving off white knight vibes like in the holodrama film, the Prince's Groom.

That was so weird, all courtly, but still pretty cool.

"I… I'm okay!" she blurted, but it was really more protest than truth. It didn't help that it was so easy to see how the dark stain of her mottled spots betrayed her, that typically rosy golden skin now a deep pewter as if she'd been dipped in a pool of silver. The Lovalla tried reaching for the Force again, trying to connect the way Iris and Shan had taught her, but it just kept floating away in an oppressive smother.

It was terrifying. Scary. The kind of fear she hadn't felt in years.

Not since Commenor. Not since she was nine years old, buried under rubble, feeling the bonds to her parents fade and sever from her one by one. She remembered the silence that followed, the way her small body shook in the dark, the suffocating emptiness that came, her voice worn raw after a week of being buried alive all alone.

It was that same emptiness pressed in now, threatening to choke her all over again.

She hated feeling alone. She didn't want to feel alone. It hurt to be alone.

“I swear, if this is about the burgers..”

But Lysander's voice cut through it. Dry, mocking, almost absurd in its timing. Something about burgers. Holodramas. The kind of nonsense only he would throw in while she was unraveling.

Zaiya's chest hitched again, but this time it came with a sharp exhale, halfway between a scoff and a laugh. Color flickered back into her skin, lavender streaks of annoyance chasing away the slate grey, lightening the heavy marks across her arms under her cloak.

"Are you… serious? Holodramas?!" Her head snapped toward him, woozy or not, eyes flashing, her voice cracking with disbelief as she blinked hard to clear her vision.

"And I am not dramatic!!" she whispered snapped at him, huffy anew, that flare of irritation steading her pulse ab it. The Force still felt heavy and far away, like it was out of reach, and she had plunged into a deep sea, but that burst of emotion rose up within her like a little stubborn light.

One that latched itself to Lysander and his firm hold, needing that tether. Zaiya clung to it with the clingy desperation of a toddler wanting Rancor pancakes at 2 a.m. It made a difference, her skin catching the faintest shimmer of a huffy Lovalla vexed at an impossible blonde boy, the fragile streaks of lavender cutting through the dull dove grey. It wasn't much, barely there, but it was something.

"You're ridiculous," she muttered, opal blue eyes staring up at him, her breath still a bit shaky, but the panic was ebbing. "But don't stop. It's helping."

The colors around her eyes shimmered faintly, the brightness of everything pricking at her iridescent vision until she winced and raised a hand to shield it.

"It feels like I'm being smothered.... I can barely feel you," she whispered, her throat tight and edged with the faintest tremor. She didn't mean it physically, but through the empathic resonance touch typically gave her. It was scary and terrifying all at once. "Like something wrapped me all up so I can't reach anything through it."

She gave another nauseated shudder. Why was she feeling like this? Maybe she was just that hungry??!

"Geezus Lysander... how do you not feel icky here all the time? It's like walking through sludge."

 

[Darth Carnifex]

Outwardly, the Dark Lord's expression never changed, but she would feel what He truly felt all the same. He was amused at the spectacle, the way in which she was forced to address the crowd with the voice of Empress; not merely Srina Talon. Long had He known of her aversion to the titles and authority foisted upon her by her relationship with the Emperor Empyrean, and for just as long had He made it His endeavor to tease her about it at every opportunity. Others might view it as subservience to the throne, others as a veiled insult, but there were not many in this galaxy who would see it for what it really was.

That truth was theirs alone to share.

Her hand brushed His cheek, and a part of Him considered leaning into the touch; to stoke the fires of rumor and speculation. The smarter parts of Him refrained, and He did not move. Only His eyes did, watching the Empress as she walked about Him, taking care to quietly marvel at every detail of her face, her skin, and the thousand of minute details in the way she walked, how she carried herself, where she rested her weight when not moving. The innumerable micro-peculiarities unique to each person, that which He had been meticulously trained to observe and understand.

"We acknowledge and accept that which is given, mighty Empress." Again, each word laced with an amusing tone. He would undoubtedly get an earful when they were alone again, swaddled in only the company of one another. The Dark Lord inclined His head in respect, His eyes shifting from the withdrawing form of Srina to the King she sat aside. It was not an accident that He'd first addressed the Empress, for she sat above both of them in the formal hierarchy of the Empire; just as He sat above Korriban's king. The omission of a proper welcome for the superior ruler of the Holy Worlds did not go unnoticed.

Moving with a languid gait, the Dark Lord focused on the King of Korriban. "Once more, Darth Caedes. The winds of Korriban cut cold, but colder still is silence. And here, amidst music and revelry, I find it louder than all. Perhaps your halls shine brighter for those of lesser consequence." The rebuke was interwoven between the words for those with the cunning to grasp it. "But these are austere times, of course. With the threat of the mongrel Imperials so near upon your gates." There was a gleam in the Dark Lord's eye, something vicious.

"Perhaps Korriban requires a firmer hand to safeguard against such incursions."

Darth Caedes | Revna Marr | Srina Talon
Beau Talon | Avarice | Lunaria Talon ​

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Objective I: Ascendent Revelries
???

​

His fingertips grazed her forearm, searching for the steady pulse among the probing gazes that surrounded them. His other palm stayed in its place, just below her ribs. As Zaiya's sudden words spilled forth from her lips like blood from a wound, Lysander’s breath caught. He staggered, as if struck by some unseen force. Fortunately, for both of them, the recovery was immediate, and he caught himself, offering a rare, half embarrassed smile, green eyes soft as moss, then widening in surprise.

There was no denying the oddity of the moment, but even so, calmness settled over the teen.

An unexpected soft laugh threaded its way out, not much louder than a sigh. He granted the Lovalla her space to speak, not once interrupting with his own random musings. She may not have been radiating the usual hues of familiarity, but there was still a warm glow in her words that filled the small space between them. So, he listened intently, cataloging her thoughts that would've normally eluded him altogether.

But that wasn't to say there weren’t a handful of moments when his eyes rolled.

Soon, they rounded the hall’s end, and Lysander’s brows furrowed thoughtfully. The fragrance of spice crept heavily into the air once more, and clusters of Sith came back into view. A tug lifted the corner of his mouth as he murmured under his breath. “Holodramas are like the gateway drug to real emotion.”

Sure, the words felt ridiculous on his tongue, but he spoke them anyway. He needed to distract her; perhaps, this was why he sensed himself being on the brink of a monologue.

Continuing at a steady pace, he added softly, “I know it sounds ridiculous, but trust me. A good holodrama is like a Force lesson in feelings. And one day Zaiya, I’m going to put them in Holocrons, so the future Sith will remember me for centuries to come. Maybe that will be my legacy.”

A partial truth, to be sure.

“I only suggest them because I'd like to see you smile.”

The biggest lie he’d ever told, yet it served a greater purpose.

“The Rule of Two Hearts, The Last Kiss on Alderaan.. I can certainly suggest some good ones. I've practically studied them all.”

Glancing over his shoulder as they pressed deeper into the main hall, Lysander’s voice softened further. “We’re safe.”

He couldn't conjure a Force Barrier here, so he gave her something else.

Passing one of the Jen’ari, its tray carrying crystal goblets and different dishes, Lysander’s hand darted out with the preciseness of someone who’d done this before.. probably too many times. Like a thief. What he managed to snag was a small, cooked fish.

Without even the faintest hint of ceremony, he shoved the object into Zaiya's palm, his fingers folding hers around it, but the weight of the thing felt more like passing off a thermal detonator. His voice lowered, laced with mirth in his attempt to reassure. "It's edible.. probably. I mean, it can't be any more toxic than you,” he joked, his expression narrowing with mock seriousness. "Worst case scenario.. if it does bite back, I'll be right here screaming with you."

At last, drawing nearer to the exit, Lysander slowed his pace, gaze sweeping over the street outside. The revelry behind them still reverberated like a war drum, but here, in the threshold, the world felt different.

He glanced over at Zaiya before tipping his head toward a nearby alley. “You know what? I want burgers too.” His lips took on a roguish edge. “They’re totes illegal in a few systems. But I am so down for some artery damage.”

A pause lingered. “Besides, if we're both going to be emotionally compromised, I might as well be chewing on something greasy while it happens. It’s actually.. perfect!”

​

 

[Darth Strosius]

Tags: Madrona A’Mia / Open!
--------------------------------------------

Darth Strosius's graceful stride stuttered, although He was able to catch Himself before the motion disturbed the Neti, when she leaned in far closer than He had been expecting. All of a sudden telepathy seemed far more ideal than the alternative. He cleared His throat in some attempt to save face after she had spoken, leaning back slightly to peer at her woth what must have been as composed of an expression as He could muster. "It is quite open as you say, so why bother concealing it?"

He may have come unarmored but He was still far from unarmed. He had no qualms about painting the dance floor a shade of crimson with His bare hands should any of the aforementioned present parties decide to act upon His words. Before Lady Madrona could rebuke Him on that topic though, He did relent and reach out to speak in her more preffered manner. Albeit not without any safeguards to guise some of His more subtle intent and thoughts of course. By all means then, Lady Madrona, let us address it.

Once more Darth Strosius led their dance into a faster pace, now that they had no need to focus on speaking and could instead devote all physical attention towards moving. I do hope that you're not seeking to engage in the impossible task of tempering and redirecting my wrath from those whom deserve it? He pulled her close as He stepped back and to the side, then back again and to the earlier step, back and forth again and again. Were it not for Revna's wishes I'd have already set about ridding us of such nuisances and tyrants, but she was quite adamant I not ruin this event.

 

[Madrona A’Mia]

Darth Strosius setting a faster pace suited A'Mia well, and she responded in kind. Engaging more of her strength, the woman provided just enough resistance and assertiveness in their dance that the style was soon reminiscent of a rather fierce tango. The artful push and pull of power between them came as a pleasant surprise, particularly after all the fuss Alisteri made at the prospect of dancing in the first place.

A'Mia wasted no time in responding, her mental landscape similarly shoring up and prickling in defense against outside observers. To the one now sharing in that landscape with her, it might feel as if they'd entered a bower. A space contained yet wild, with dark curiosities lurking just beyond the turn of the proverbial bend.

If Lysander von Ascania hadn't already withdrawn from their connection, he'd have been ejected rather abruptly. The neti's mind closed against all others as her attention became truly undivided.

Oh good!​

She practically chirped, her thoughts just as singsong as her physical voice.

Alisteri, your qualms are well known and thoroughly documented. My innermost thoughts and ambitions, as well as those of my compatriots, have been fairly well guarded. Information safe-kept in such ways has merit. Where you favor a cudgel, I tend to favor the scalpel.​

The grip of one of her hands tightened and she turned on her heel to practically drag him, were it not for his own agility and fast footwork, into an aggressive slide of steps. They'd finally come to the meat of the conversation and her dancing reflected the energy such a prospect filled her with.

That is where I hoped we'd begin. In discovering those areas that we align, even if our methods of choice clearly diverge.​

A'Mia smiled at him sidelong, the expression markedly different than the genuine laugh of before. It was the kind of smile a spider wears before catching a fly. Whether it was directed at him or their topic of conversation, it was impossible to know.

There are fates worse than death, Alisteri. If we wish to dismantle the system and take out the powers that be, we must be creative, cunning— ruthless too sometimes, barbarous even. Our enemies deserve it after all.​

She let it hang for a moment, let the words and depth of her earnestness sink in. There was a silent cue, something only really possible in a mental conversation, where A'Mia made it clear she had more to say before ceding to him.

That which our foes deserve will not always be their fate though. So, while I have no interest in "redirecting" your wrath, my proposition for alliance will absolutely necessitate temperance. I seek to find middle ground, Alisteri, from which we might finally march on progress toward shared triumphs.​

 

[Glissara]

Location: Ashlan Crash Site, Nar-Hakel Circuit - Korriban
Notable Equipment and Personal Effects: FAE/M-02 Energized Forearm Vibroblade Mk. II │ Slipstream Zero Exoskin Mk. I
Objective: II - Nar-Hakel Circuit
Racer: Herself

• Hssiss/Drake Ability Set

Tag: Varin Mortifer Lodd Grimmin Naamino Zuukamano Maiza Vex Haro Aven Spirit of Korriban

Stone morphed into hard-packed sand at her feet as the Golg desert opened up before her. Glissara’s lilac-hued gaze swept across the desolate landscape as she ran, eyes tracing the husks of fallen Ashlan battleships that thrust out from the dunes like the sun-bleached bones of forgotten giants. However, even ruined by time and erosion, they remained unmistakably Ashlan, crusader symbols stubbornly clinging to the pitted metal like fading scars.

A moment of anger struck her then. Still, as she pressed deeper into the desert, Glissara quickly realized that she could not afford to sightsee or contemplate the corruption of a Sith holy world.

Her focus snapped back just in time to avoid a jagged section of hull plating jutting from the earth. Glissara sidestepped it with a dancer’s lightness, a soft gasp escaping from her lips as she regained her balance. Then, channeling the surge of adrenaline, she poured her anger into her stride, powerful legs driving her forward across the barren waste.

Ahead, the Jango Jumper caught sight of the wreckage of a ship, a section of it already beginning to collapse. Grunting, she kicked harder, accelerating in a brief sprint before throwing her body into a graceful, feet-first slide that carried her just underneath beneath the falling bulkhead. It crashed down into the ground in her wake in a thunderous plume of sand, forcing the racer immediately behind her to go around the wreckage.

Without breaking her stride, Glissara glanced briefly over her shoulder before pressing on. Already, she was gaining on some of the leaders, a number of who seemed to be having a harder time with the leg than her. Still, her own performance in the leg was far from perfect. The slide beneath the wreckage and nearly tripping over a section of hull plating, had cost her valuable seconds.

And yet, as the stark, imposing cliffs of the Valley of the Dark Lords began to etch themselves into the horizon, Glissara sensed that the next leg would present the opportunity for her to make it up!

 

[Avarice]

Darth Caedes | Revna Marr | Srina Talon | Beau Talon | Avarice | Lunaria Talon | Darth Carnifex
There was a plethora of layers moving in tandem before him... The threads of power were woven between the Empress, the King, and the Butcher King himself. Each word spoken was like stone placed on the scales of power. Avarice drank in the minutiae as he watched with a small tilt of his head.

When Carnifex turned His attention to Darth Caedes, the shift felt deliberately tense. Avarice's ears pricked at the poetic yet merciless rebuke delivered in the full glare of spectacle.

It was a masterfully employed use of a tactical humiliation turned into a performance; the kind of theater that bound onlookers as participants whether they wished it or not. Carnifex had framed the hierarchy so everyone in the 'room' knew who the true apex predator was. The Butcher King seemed to just assert his dominance, even over kings.

Avarice's crimson gaze slid toward the King Darth Caedes , and for the barest moment he allowed himself to wonder at the indignity of such a tongue-lashing administered in public. It was not a station he envied. Thrones, after all, were just pedestals....elevated targets for sharpened words and sharpened blades alike.

Behind the twin half-masks, his lips pressed into a thin line. He noted how the King bore it, how the courtiers reacted, how the Empress did, or did not, intervene. Every gesture was another small cipher, another line in the secret texts of power that only the attentive could read well. And Avarice read greedily, his silence the camouflage of his intent.

Silently, his attention slid from the Butcher King's sharp words to the figure of Revna Marr , the King's supposed paramour. Crimson eyes lingered with the cool curiosity of a dissector studying a specimen.

If Caedes had been so openly dressed down, then what of the woman tethered to him? Would she flinch at the rebuke? Would she bristle with indignation, daring to defend the throne's pride? Or would she, wiser still, veil her reaction in silence and let the storm pass over her untouched?

Avarice watched for the faintest twitch in her jaw, the subtle shift of shoulders, the way her gaze tracked or averted... He suspected that in such courts, love was never only love... it was leverage, a currency as potent as fear or steel.

If Revna faltered, it would expose the King's flank as surely as a wound in battle. If she held firm, it might reveal the depth of her loyalty, or the strength of her own mask. Either way, it was another note to be catalogued, another thread woven into the tapestry Avarice was already mapping in silence.

And so he studied her with the patient intensity of a wolf crouched in tall grass, crimson eyes searching for the telltale signs that would betray whether she was shield… or liability to Darth Caedes .

The silent shadow would have preferred absence. All of this.... the clamor, the gilded words, the endless rituals, was little more than noise to him, useful only insofar as it revealed the hidden currents of power. Beyond that, it was dull pageantry, and he endured it only because endurance was expected.

So he stood, a minor ornament in the Dark Lord's display, his pale frame carved into the shape of obedience. Fortunately, the eyes of courtiers and sycophants were not on him. Their attention flowed instead to Artemis Dreadmoor, ( Lunaria Talon ) the pale wisp of a girl unveiled at Carnifex's side. Let them speculate, let them whisper; their curiosity toward her was a shield that left him mercifully overlooked.

Behind the twin half-masks, Avarice allowed the faintest curl of a smile. Obscurity was freedom. If Artemis bore the burden of notice, then he was free to keep cataloguing the unseen, drinking the room like wine while the others drowned in the spectacle.

And so he remained silent, still, the patient wolf at heel, seemingly content to let another serve as the glittering lure while he remained the shadow none cared to watch.

 

[???]

Objective I:
Ascendent Revelries
Lysander von Ascania

​

Zaiya followed where he led, her steps getting steadier now, though her head still felt wrapped in cotton. The heaviness in the air hadn't lifted, but at least she wasn't drowning in it anymore. Maybe that had something to do with Lysander's nonsense.

Holodramas. Really?

Her skin flickered in muted greys, but soft threads of amber and silver shimmered at her spots, curiosity pulsing faintly through her colors. Because as much as she wanted to roll her eyes and call him ridiculous… she had asked him to keep going. And stars help her, it was actually kind of interesting.

"\Holodramas are like… the gateway drug to feelings?" she muttered, incredulous, tilting her head at him.

"What are you, some kind of holodrama fanatic? Do you have like… holoposters of tragic lovers hidden under your bunk or something?"

When he went on about making them into Holocrons, she stopped in her tracks, blinking at him.

"Wait, wait, wait! so if a good holodrama is a Force lesson in feelings, then which one is the best lesson? Hmmmmm?" She lifted her chin, her opal blue eyes widening in a clear sign to call his bluff, lips trying their best to not perk at their sides. Despite the muffled resonance, it was easy to see from under her hood when the Lovalla looked up at him that her colors were brightening, even if the citrine glints of curiousity were threaded with lavender into her glow.

But truth be told, Zaiya wasn't paying attention to whether Lysander was lying or not. What mattered was the way he was trying so hard to cheer her up. That mattered more than anything. It only proved she had been right all along: there was goodness in him, even here, even now. And until he believed in himself, she would keep believing for him.

Her thoughts scattered when something warm, gooey, and very sticky was shoved into her palm. Zaiya blinked down at it. Fish. Definitely fish.

She wrinkled her nose, but hunger overruled her hesitation, and soon she was digging in, cheeks puffed full like she hadn't eaten in days.

"Oh. My. Stars! This is… actually really good!" she chirped between bites, licking her fingers with zero grace, like a kid finally given her favorite sweet. She even had a smidgen of sauce at the corner of her mouth.

Okay..maaayyybee she'd been more than a little hungry.

"Savory… tangy… mmm."

The sensation of eyes on her never quite went away though, crawling over her skin like a film she couldn't scrub off. She shuddered, shaking her head and muttering, "Ugh… still feels like I got dipped in tar. Or guano. So-o gross."

But the second burgers came up again, her head snapped toward him, irridecent blue eyes wide.

"Wait. What?! Burgers are illegal in some systems?!" The very idea was so outrageous she gasped out loud, mouth still half full.

"No way. They're delicious!"

Her irritation at the thought sparked a brighter flush of color across her spots, lavender bleeding into soft golds as she grinned at him, unable to hide the way his roguish smile softened something in her chest.

"Okay then," Zaiya declared, licking her fingers clean before jabbing him lightly in the ribs, "where does one get semi emotionally compromising burgers around here?"

 

[Spirit of Korriban]

RACER​	Streets of Vardin​	Ashlan Crash Site (-2)​	Valley of the Dark Lords (+1)​	Nethermaw Tunnels (-3)​	Final Stretch! (+2)​	RESULTS
Haro Aven (Drexl)​	20 + 2 = 22!​	Immune to crash! 2 - 2 = 0! ​				22!​
Maiza Vex (Rancor)​	19 - 1 = 18! Sabotaged! Naamino Zuukamano ​	4 + 2 - 2 = 4!​				22!​
Glissara (Self)​	13!​	11 - 2 = 9!​	​			22!​
Naamino Zuukamano (Adar)​	13!​	-1! Sabotaged! 13 - 1 - 2 = 10!​				23!​
Varin Mortifer (Adar)​	12!​	8 - 2 = 6!​				18!​
Lodd Grimmin (Moneybags <3)​	4 + 2 = 6!​	2 - 2 + 2 = 2!​				8!​
Leshanna Dromar (Malidrae)​	2 - 2 = 0! Ooooof!​	2 - 2 - 2 = -2! ... somebody call a doctor!​				-2!​

Audience members cheer and press forward in their seats, turning to holopads and oversized screens as (most) of our racers rush out of sight and into the Valley of the Dark Lords! ​

 

[Varin Mortifer]

A zoom of sound rushed by him as a green blur rushed past the falling debris that held Varin back. Opting to go around he tried to gain some air, hoping the tops of the ships would be a bit more forgiving, but also hoping to remain in the race. Frustration began to bubble in his chest, but more than that, even though he was behind in the race, excitement and drive kept him going. Weaving and threading through the ever reaching hulls of the dead fleet he began to see a massive stretch ahead of him that soon turned into winding curves.

After struggling to get through the Ashlan Crashsite, Varin could see the stretch of cliff, ornate with ancient statues worn by buffeting sands. Some details weathered away leaving the faces somewhat bare. This time the wind whistled louder through the caverns and crevices. He could feel the force of the winds, trying to angle his Adar just right he opted to try and ride the wind.

Kicking his stirrup down while raising his reins up towards the side he attempted to cause his mount to angle with the wind's forceful drafts. The Adar hissed and dug its claws into the wallside of the track to readjust itself as its wings attempted to push with the wind behind them. Tightly he held his reins as the wind threatened to topple him off of his mount. A frustrated roar escaped his throat as he tried to maintain control.

A strong gust of wind knocked a strap loose from Varin's saddle causing him to slip ever so slightly to the side. Trying to think fast, the young apprentice let go of the reins and flung himself over the Adar's shoulders grabbing onto it's horns. Attempting to regain control he jerked the horns back in an attempt to slow the creature.

The Adar let out a loud roar as it dug its claws into the earth causing it to slide to a near stop. The saddle had now fallen off of the Adar leaving Varin with no obvious way to sit atop his mount. Quickly he wrapped one hand in the reins and kept his free hand out to the side in an attempt to retain balance.

"Don't you dare start acting up!"

As the Adar ran through the winding path it thrashed its head attempting to knock the apprentice off, but Varin clung onto it stubbornly. Again he saw the lead racers getting further away. But this fact did not dissuade him from the race, it forced him to challenge himself.

Taking his freehand, he stretched it behind him as he finally began to retake control of the raging sithspawn. Force energy began to build in his palm, bursting out in a violent jet with a massive force blast he propulsed himself and his Adar forward bit by bit, trying his hardest to regain the ground he had lost.

Spirit of Korriban Leshanna Dromar Haro Aven Naamino Zuukamano Glissara Lodd Grimmin Maiza Vex​

 

[Naamino Zuukamano]

More than a little distracted by the chaos of the race and amped up on adrenaline as he was, the zabrak didn't notice Haro's mount stalking them until a deep growl rumbled through Zafira. The war-mount called out to Haro with her telepathic link they'd forged with Naami's careful and intentional exposure of the Adar to his closest friends while he raised her from an egg.

Control that beast, Grease-Rabbit, or I shall unleash my wrath upon it!

Naami tightened his grip upon the reigns, concerned for his friend and readying himself for the war of wills he might need to engage in. Taking a glance back to get a sense for what caused the generally reasonable Zafira to act thusly, the zabrak's eyes went wide when he realized just how close that damned Drexl was.

"Oi!" He hollered into the wind, "LEAVE OFF A BIT— VALLEY OF THE DARK LORDS COMING UP, TIGHT QUARTERS."

Perhaps it was the adrenaline, maybe the fear for his friend, or even the fierce competitiveness he could feel through the bond with Zafira and which colored his own emotions a bit. Wherever it came from, Naami's voice was bolstered by the Force and boomed louder than what might otherwise be possible.

He turned to focus in on the next section of the course. It was less precarious than the Ashlan Crash Site, but it funneled the racers into a more narrow space, requiring focus from rider and mount alike.

Just as Naami was about to sink into a calm state of communion with Zafira, encouraging focus on the race and using speed to leave the Drexl behind, the damned Adar took matters into her own claws. Opening her great leathery wings in a sudden slowing maneuver that dropped their movement to a hovering halt, the Sithspawn seemed intent on body slamming Haro’s mount.

“Oi!” Naami roared again.

Knock that off! This is a race, not a fight.

He managed the stern rebuke as the Drexl and Haro whizzed by. Zafira’s annoying little stunt cost them all their momentum and she roared at the back of the creature that out maneuvered her. Naami whipped the reigns and leaned low on her back, urging her to “GO!” through their bond.

Roll: 3+1 (terrain)-3 (Adar)= 1 total​

 

[Haro Aven]

LOCATION: OUTER RIM > SITH HOLY WORLDS > KORRIBAN > VARDIN CITY​

TIMESTAMP: AFTER THE INVASION OF BROSI​

OBJECTIVE: WIN SURVIVE THE RACE​

TAGS: Spirit of Korriban | Naamino Zuukamano | Varin Mortifer | Leshanna Dromar | Lodd Grimmin | Maiza Vex | Glissara | OPEN​

Weaving through the graveyard of starships with the grace of an apex predator, the Drexl steadily gained on Zafira until it was right up behind her. Though Haro was glad the thing was moving in the right direction again, he was now deeply concerned that it was more interested in hunting the competition than beating them in the race.

First Zafira growled a warning into his mind, which added a new layer of concern about what would happen to him if the Adar decided to "unleash her wrath" upon the creature he was riding. Then, Naami followed up with a command to "leave off," his deep voice carrying like thunder through the whipping winds.

"I'M TRYING!" Haro shrieked as loud as he could, unable to amplify himself like his Force-wielding friend.

The last thing he wanted was for the Drexl to hurt Naami or Zafira, but he wanted to win this damn race, so he decided he better conquer his fears and take control of the situation. He tried to imagine the creature beneath him as a machine, and the reigns he gripped with white knuckles as his flight control system. As the massive cliff rises of the Valley of the Dark Lords fast approached, Haro attempted to yank the reigns to the side while jabbing his heals into the Drexl's sides.

Haro wasn't sure if his efforts had anything to do with it but the Drexl did pull to the side just before Zafira decided to come to a sudden halt. The Drexl tucked its wings in and rolled through the air, weaving around Zafira to pull in front of her just they all dove into the valley. Though impressive, the maneuver would've flung Haro from its back if he wasn't mostly strapped in. By the time the Drexl righted itself, Haro's terrified scream had transformed into exhilarated laughter.

"HAH! MISSED ME!" Haro called back to his buddy and his Adar mount.​

[ROLL: 9 + 1 (terrain) = 10 TOTAL]
[Sabotaging Glissara in the Nethermaw Tunnels]​

​

 

[Maiza Vex]

Theme: The Animal
Equipment: Mask | Hide Armor | Home made Leather Boots
Tags: Naamino Zuukamano | Varin Mortifer | Haro Aven | Lodd Grimmin | Glissara | Leshanna Dromar | Spirit of Korriban

---

​

Bwaaaap…bwaaap….in rapid succession as the little Jawa that clearly recognized the mad zabrak mutt from there last encounter on this track and was out for blood for his stolen speeder bike. Maiza screamed at the Rancor to go faster but it continued to plod on as blaster fire whizzed by her. She was in a mad panic she needed to get the hell out of here, frantically looking back behind her and then forward again.

The Jawa continued firing and now was moving towards his new bike as he did so. "Hey, just let go it was years ago!" She screamed back him, not releasing the pure hypocrisy in that statement.

"Your insurance got you new bike man, leave me the hell alone!" Crap…..the jawa hopped on his new bike and started speeding towards her firing his blaster rifle. "Frak…Frak..!" Where was prince charming when you really could use him. This would be the perfect damn time for Iskendyr Yvarro to show his pretty face and make the save. Granted he would probably have some infuriating but charming quip about this whole damn revenge plot of hers.

"Go Faster!" She screamed at the Rancor again as the Jawa was gaining on them as she looked back at him again. "I will have my Rancor eat you if you come any damn closer!" Another shot buzzed just by her head. "Dammit can't we talk things out!" She screamed but knew there was no talking in this situation as the Rancor plodded for the Valley, maybe if she was lucky the damn Jawa wouldn't follow her down there.

She knew Iskendyr would both scolding her and saying some inspiring words of wisdom to try and get her to stop this madness. Dammit she didn't want to admit he might be right this one time as another shot just grazed her leather riding armor. "Damn you pretty BOY!" See screamed probably confusing both the rancor and the Jawa.

The Rancor sped up as it dipped down into the Valley finally catching Haro Aven as his beast and Naami's seemed to be in quarrel. She looked behind back at the Jawa who was now having to speed up his speeder bike to catch up. She knew she should not say it, pretty boy would definitely not like it, but she could not help herself.

"Oh thank god, you two are around here…." She yelled out to both Haro Aven and Naamino Zuukamano . " I need a couple of meat shields from that mad Jawa back there. "

She let out a laugh as she said but that laugh quickly turned to a frown as a little two legged blue demon Glissara passed them all by……."God damn CHEATER!" She growled as she looked down at her rancor he knew instinctively it was lunchtime again as they went at good pace now down into the Valley of the dead idiots.


(Roll 9 and +1 area bonus = 10 )