Faction Revelry in the Holy Worlds

[Aerik Lechner]

TAG: Skadi Lightbane​

Aerik turned at the sound of her voice, the words unfamiliar on his ear. They carried a rhythm that reminded him of the old Lupo tongue, though he could not place it. For a heartbeat he only watched her, mug lifted in gesture, golden eyes set on him. When she tried again in Basic, the question was clear enough. He raised his own cup a little and gave a small nod.

"Mead," he confirmed.

His voice was low, carrying easily over the noise of the pits below. He tipped the rim toward her in a quiet toast, then drank. Her curiosity was plain, and Aerik found himself grinning.

"There is more," he said, setting his mug on the railing and motioning for her to follow.

He pushed away from his perch and led her toward a table near the back wall, where a pair of Legionnaires had already claimed space around a barrel tapped with dark froth. The smell of it filled the air, sweet and heavy, distinct even among the haze of spice and smoke. Aerik filled a fresh cup and held it out for her.

”Better than most of what they serve here," he said. "Strong, though."

There was amusement in his eyes as he watched her take it. Mead was not common at a Sith celebration, but the Second Legion had made certain it was present. Tradition mattered, even here.

Around them, the differences were plain. Most Sith feasts reeked of decadence, filled with the endless posturing of aristocrats and the sharp edges of schemes dressed as conversation. In the Second Legion, things were louder, simpler, and more honest. Victors drank deep, sang songs that shook the rafters, and tested their strength in contests that spilled across the floors and into the streets. Some feasted, others wrestled, and a few shouted themselves hoarse in the telling of tales. It was not about proving who held the sharper tongue, but about proving one's endurance, one's bravery, one's appetite for life after battle. To Aerik, it felt like home.

He leaned one shoulder against the stone column, lifting his own drink again.

"I am Aerik," he offered, curious if she would give her name in return.

His voice was relaxed now, steadied by the familiar taste of mead and the grounding weight of his people's presence.

The crowd roared on around them, but for Aerik the noise had shifted into something distant. For the first time all evening, he did not feel the weight of expectation pressing in from every side. Instead, he found himself caught in a quieter moment at the edge of chaos, a shared drink between strangers who seemed less strange with each passing heartbeat.

His gaze lingered on her cup for a moment longer. He wondered if she would find the mead as comforting as he did, or if it would be foreign on her tongue. That thought brought a small smile to his lips, and he watched her closely, waiting to see how she would react to her first taste.

 

[Skadi Lightbane]

KORRIBAN

Aerik Lechner
​

The young man confirmed her hopes, that the drink he had was, indeed, mead. A pleased smirk tugged at the corner of her mouth as he tipped his mug towards her in a quiet toast, one she responded to in kind - before she drained her mug of its contents in one go.

When she heard that there was more mead, her whole face practically lit up with her barely contained excitement. Skadi was happy to follow along with the young man, letting him guide her towards her favored drink of choice. He led her towards a table against a back wall, and nearby were two men seated around the barrel, having claimed the space as their own apparently. The closer she came, the more she could smell the liquid within, and her grin only widened.

Her guide filled a mug for her and passed it along, saying how it ‘tasted’ better than most of what was being served (to that she could only hope) and that it was strong. Skadi was happy to take the mug, the shine of amusement in her eyes.

“Not…mead…if not strong, eh?” she said in response, her voice rich with her accent, lifting the mug to inhale its rich and sweet aroma, before tipping it back to take her first true taste. Her new companion had been correct: it was strong; sweet and full flavored. It was perfect, and it reminded her of home.

An expression of contentment could be seen passing across her face, her grin returning as the young man leaned against a nearby stone pillar and introduced himself as Aerik.

“I - Skadi Einarsdottir.” she responded in her broken Basic, passing over her name to Aerik. She looked the young man over, truly taking him in for the first time. He carried himself like a warrior and she had to admit - he was quite handsome.

The roaring crowd below and around them pulled Skadi’s attention away from Aerik for the moment, intent to see what the uproar had been about. It appeared the race had begun, and already some of the riders were fighting to control their beasts. Amusement shined in her golden eyes as she drank some more, feeling the heat of the potent drink swirl in her belly.

“Mead…strong! Good. Very good. Remind me of home. Good mead…for cold nights. And games!” the young Valkyri woman said as she looked back at Aerik, her amused grin still on her face. She noted how he seemed more relaxed, his attention rather on her than the outrageous racing scenes unfolding beyond them.

“You fight? In…war?” Skadi inquired after several moments of silence, curious to hear if he was indeed the warrior that she suspected him of being, curious to hear if he had fought with the Sith, like how her Father and kinsmen had.

 

[Aerik Lechner]

TAG: Skadi Lightbane​

Aerik shifted his weight against the column, the mead warming his chest as Skadi’s words settled in. Her accent shaped the Basic in a way that tugged faintly at his memory, like a ghost of something he knew but could not place. The rhythm of it brushed close to the old Lupo tongue, the language of his father’s blood, yet not quite the same. It stirred a strange sense of kinship all the same, as if something familiar was hidden in the syllables.

He raised his mug a little in return, a small acknowledgment of the shared drink.

“Strong, yes,” he agreed.

His mouth pulled into a half-smile as she spoke of cold nights and games, and he nodded toward the pits below where the beasts strained against their handlers.

“It suits nights like this too. Fire, music, and the chance to test yourself.”

Her question lingered, and he turned his eyes back to her.

“I fought,” he admitted. “Brosi.”

The name alone carried weight, and the memory of it flashed in his mind: the trembling of poisoned ground, the thunder of bombardments so close he thought the building around him would bury him alive.

“My part was not in the open charge. I worked inside. Quiet work. Finding places to break the enemy’s lines, places to leave them blind.”

He tapped the rim of his mug against the railing once, as if to punctuate the thought.

“The fighting nearly brought the roof down on me more than once. I am here because it did not.”

His tone was matter-of-fact, but behind it lived the knowledge that it could just as easily have gone another way. Aerik’s gaze drifted across the balcony, down to the chaos of the celebration below, then back to Skadi.

“The Legion celebrates differently than most Sith,” he added, motioning to the table behind them where others laughed and wrestled in the torchlight. “We do not spend the night wrapped in politics or veiled threats. We sing, drink, and fight until dawn. It is not about power plays or whispered schemes. It is about strength, endurance, and the bond of those who fought together.”

He studied her for a moment longer, taking in the way she carried herself. She did not shrink from the noise, nor did she hide her curiosity. Instead, she met it head on, the mead bright in her hand, her grin unguarded. Aerik found himself answering it with one of his own.

“Tell me,” he said, lifting his mug in her direction, “is it to your liking? It is the Second Legion’s own brew. We make certain it is always present at our celebrations. I would not want you to be disappointed after hunting for it so eagerly.”

He took another drink, the sweet burn rolling down his throat, and waited for her answer, the thunder of the crowd below blending into a steady rhythm that left the balcony feeling like its own small world.

 

[Skadi Lightbane]

KORRIBAN

Aerik Lechner
​

The young man, Aerik, commented that the mead was good for nights like this - with fire, music, and the opportunity to test one’s self. Skadi couldn’t help but agree; the cheers, the music, the roars of beasts, and a myriad of other sounds and sights, made her blood stir. Or maybe that was the mead, starting to truly warm her from within. It was relaxing her, making her feel good. She wasn’t under the scrutiny of her Father, or the evil eye of her brother; here, she could just be herself. And she had every intention of doing so, even if surrounded by strangers.

To her question on if he had fought in the war, the young man responded that he had indeed fought on Brosi. Skadi’s eyes glimmered with growing interest, keen to hear his story. He told her how he had fought behind the front lines, working to break the enemy’s line, blind them to what was happening. She knew well enough that working behind the front line was just as important as bloodying one’s blade in the charge - though clearly whatever task he had carried out in the fight had carried its share of dangers.

But war was like that; it didn’t care who or what you were - and a true Sith didn’t hold back when faced with war. At least, that was what her Father taught her.

Skadi took another deep swallow of the mead, enjoying the tang and burn of it down her throat. She made a rumbled hum of contentedness in her chest, following his gaze out to the crowd. A stiff and chilly breeze brushed against her face and stirred her hair, though she hardly felt the prickly chill with the mead’s heat that was now infused into her skin. She felt his eyes return to her, though she kept her eyes on her mug for the moment, eyeing what was left of the mead.

She was going to need another refill soon.

Aerik mentioned how the ‘Legion’ - whatever that was - celebrated differently than other Sith. Her golden eyes flickered towards the table he gestured towards, watching how others nearby laughed boisterously or wrestled in a kind of camaraderieship that she recognized. She pieced together that these men, and others she had seen in the fighting pits below, must be a part of this ‘Legion’.

A smile, one of understanding and knowing, curled on her lips as he told her how they preferred to spend their nights. Singing, dancing, drinking, fighting - testing one’s self - it was how her kinsmen were too. It made her wonder, was this ‘Legion’ another clan akin to hers? There were so many similarities that it rather surprised her. She wasn’t expecting to find or see such a thing, away from the familiarity of Toola.

She returned her gaze back to Aerik as he addressed her once more, indicating with his own mug if the mead in her hand was to her liking, explaining how it was a brew of the ‘Second Legion’ - that the drink was always available in their celebrations. Her grin widened further, the mirth shining in her eyes now.

“It is…good!” she said, though a more mischievous gleam glinted in her eyes a moment later “-though my kin's mead is better.” she smirked further, her voice full of playful challenge as she downed the rest of the mead in her mug, tipping it over to show him that she had finished hers off already. “But good enough for…another! Ja?”

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Objective I: Ascendent Revelries
Ayiaz

​

The teen's jaw tightened as the girl suddenly tore into the fish, the sight grating his nerves like nails dragging across a crate. The music, a blessing now, was perhaps the only thing drowning out the guttural sounds and finger licking that would've made his stomach churn. It was uncivilized, uncultured, and yet.. for some reason, he couldn't help but feel another tug at the corners of his lips. His attention shifted to beneath the Lovalla's hood, noting the colors dancing softly; oddly, it ignited a strange warmth within him.

Surprisingly, she matched him word for word, her energy both amusing and draining. And when he spoke next, there was a wry edge to his tone. "No posters, Zaiya. Just a stack of fan mail and a recent message from Nar Shaddaa demanding credits for a child they claim is mine." He shrugged. "I’m told there’s even a few strands of legendary blonde hair. But I'm just not convinced."

Hopefully, that would be enough to distract her from the Jen'rusalka.

Finally they crossed the threshold. Ahead, crowds throbbed; the citizens of Vardin celebrated. Tilting his head, Lysander mused aloud, “Depends on the lesson, I suppose. The Rule of Two Hearts if you want loyalty. The Last Kiss on Alderaan for sacrifice. Shadows Over Serenno for ambition. They’re all basically just.. case studies in disguise. Think of it as unlimited power on how the game really works.”

The two of them emerged into a small plaza, the smell of food dominating his senses. A small line gathered before one of the vendors, so they would wait. “I don’t know, Zaiya. Some systems ban spice, some ban blasters.. some ban burgers. The galaxy’s priorities are a mess.” Wincing at a reminder of his sore ribs from training earlier, he quickly added with a wry smile, "And mind your poking, or I'll start charging you for it."

Once they got to the front, Lysander's gaze was immediately drawn to the weathered Weequay manning the grill, one with a red bandana tied around his head. He couldn't help but think of his sister Corazona von Ascania , a surge of hope rising within, for he began wondering if she still found time for her signature retinol rituals.

The Weequay flipped patties with Makashi finesse, the spatula a blur. The blonde’s voice was firm but light as he ordered. “Two bantha triple classics.. spiced nerf cheese, a fried nuna egg on top, and a smear of meiloorun relish.”

Glancing sideways at Zaiya, he added, “And two orders of fries.”

Several credit chips slid across the counter with a clink.

While their order sizzled on the grill, he turned back to her. “Yeah, this is the real cultural exchange. Feth politics. Besides, food pretty much tells you everything you need to know about a place. And before you ask.. I’m not sharing my burger.”

Moments later, the plates were placed before them.

 

[Ayiaz]

Objective I:
Ascendent Revelries
Lysander von Ascania
​

Zaiya did a double take, her mouth falling comically open. Fan mail? A child on Nar Shaddaa?

Oh. My. Stars.

Was this what Cora and Iris had warned her about? Padawans… having babies?!

Gah! Sweet, gullible Zaiya couldn't help but whip her head toward Lysander, opal blue eyes wide as saucers at that news.

Did he father a child?!

The Lovalla gaped at him until he so casually changed the subject to holodramas that she lost her footing in the thought, tucking away those strange holo drama titles for later.

By then they were already at the diner, and before she knew it, the burgers were placed before them, and everything else flew out the viewport.

Burgers!

Her eyes went wide, her grin shining out in a beam before she suddenly gave a faint frown then shook her head firmly.

"Don't worry your burger is safe. Lovallas only share food with their bonded mates once they have one," she told him, already reaching for a fry thinking about Aris and how he might be doing.

He was likely already feeling the lack of resonance. She'd have to send him a message so he wouldn't worry.

Either way, a few more fries and her colors brightening almost instantly. She leaned into her meal, voice muffled around the next bite.

"Thank you so-o much for the food. I'll pay you back."

Then she sank her teeth into the burger, eyes rolling with such bliss that her skin shimmered back into a rosy golden glow.

"Mmm. Yup," she added after swallowing, "much better."

It took a second, before Zaiya realized just what this meant. Lysander and she were eating a meal together. Without fighting. No name calling. No hurt feelings because of miscommunication.

It was… nice.

 

[Aerik Lechner]

TAG: Skadi Lightbane​

Aerik laughed under his breath at her playful smirk, shaking his head as he tipped his own mug back for another swallow. The Second Legion brewed their mead strong, and it burned sweet down his throat, warming him against the night breeze that wound across the balcony.


"Better, hm?" he said, setting the empty mug down on the table behind him. "Then perhaps one day I will have to see if your kin's claim can hold against ours. Until then, this will have to do."

He reached across the barrel and filled another cup, foam spilling just a little down the side before he handed it to her.

"The Second Legion's own brew," he explained. "We make sure it finds its way to every gathering, every feast. You can count on it as surely as you can count on the Legion itself. Stronger than most, and not watered down like what passes for drink at some Sith tables."

He leaned again against the column, watching her take the fresh cup. There was a satisfaction in seeing her enjoy it, a reminder of why the Legion kept to its ways. Sith politics had their place, but when the fighting was done, it was fire, song, drink, and the company of those who had bled together that bound them more tightly than schemes ever could. That truth was etched into every battle-scarred veteran around them, into every roar of laughter that shook the rafters, and every chorus of song that drowned out the darker whispers of the Order.

Below, the noise of the pits swelled as the riders urged their beasts into the first turn of the track. The crowd bellowed with each lunge and stumble, a mix of triumph and outrage carried upward like a storm. Aerik's gaze drifted over the chaos, but his focus kept slipping back to her. She stood tall in the glow of torchlight, golden eyes alive with amusement, her grin unguarded. For Aerik, it was the kind of company that fit nights such as this: the sort where strength and spirit mattered more than politics or pedigree.

He took another swallow of his drink, slower this time, and gave a small shrug.

"I think you will find the Legion's mead holds its own well enough. The question is whether it suits you. We keep it strong for nights like this, for cold winds and warm fires, and for games that last until dawn." His mouth tugged in a faint grin as he added, "And for those brave enough to keep pace."

For a moment his thoughts slipped back to earlier in the evening, when his mother's hand had so easily plucked the goblet from his grip and poured it into the soil. Her voice had been quiet, her words final: behave. Even now the reminder lingered, sharp as ever, and Aerik knew she would not hesitate to deliver it again. Still, he could not help the faint pride rising in him that she had seen him not only as her son, but as a soldier among the wolves. To be measured by that standard, to be judged in that light, meant he was no longer just a boy trying to prove himself.

His eyes lingered on Skadi, curious to see if she would take the challenge hidden in his words. Around them the celebration raged on, but for the moment Aerik let it fade to the edges. Here, on the balcony with mugs in hand, the world felt smaller, less burdened by titles and expectations. Just two warriors sharing drink and firelight, standing at the edge of triumph, with the night ahead of them and stories waiting to be written.

 

[Darth Strosius]

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

It seemed as though in an effort to find some advantage in their game of sways, spins, and steps, He had danced right into the Neti's trap. Literally. Lady Madrona proved not only capable of keeping up with the pace He set but also eager to do so and respond in kind, pulling Him into a slight slide as she wasted no time at all in bringing the main topic of conversation to bear. Of course Darth Strosius could keep up without all that much issue, however surprise alone ensured that He was on the backfoot. Sometimes literally.

I'd prefer the term cleaver over cudgel myself. Yet He did allow her to continue without any proper interruption, more a stray thought on His part rather than a real response. That she wanted to see what similarities in views and missions they might share was an interesting prospect if an odd one. Surely He had made His goals and desires for change rather explicit plenty of times before. Had He not been vocal enough? That could be fixed easily enough, perhaps not at this event but the next one mayhaps.

"Temperance" no doubt being the key word there. Darth Strosius let out a physical scoff to match the somewhat sarcastic nature of His response. I can assure you, Lady Madrona, that I will not rest until justice is served to all enemies of the Sith. Whether they be here at this event, hidden away in some palace, or sitting like a vulture in the Core. If not even my premature demise could halt my vengeance for very long, what chance do any of our foes have then?

In spite of His assertion, He did relent. In the conversation at least. In the dance however, the masked man picked up a new tempo to rival her own eager plunge into their dance. Let us see what middle might be found then. I'm sure I don't have to relay my opinions to you verbatim anymore than I already have, so pray tell what it is you wish to see changed from the current status quo. And please don't hesitate to include the grisly details, we should be open and honest with our goals in this exercise should we not?

 

[Allyson Locke]

//: Madelyn Lowe //:

Oh, how Allyson wished she could linger with just the Minister for much longer. The kiss in itself was enough to spark whatever lay dormant within the Corellian. She smiled, enjoying this secret between them. It amused the spy as she watched the wheels turn in her lover's mind. Madelyn had thought about her request to leave, to just spend the evening and whatever time they could spare with just each other.

Finally, as Madelyn explained, it is their sacred duty. Allyson feigned pain as she held her hand over her heart. "You wound me, Mads." She grinned as her hand fell from her chest and cupped the side of the woman's face — gently letting her thumb caress over her smooth cheek.

"While you say we have a sacred duty to celebrate…" She leaned in, smiling instead of indulging. "You're my sacred duty."

Allyson let it hang as she stepped back. She let Madelyn flaunt her beautiful hairstyle — something that the Corellian hoped she'd see more of. The braids adorned her head like a crown, the pins like beaded jewels.

Her chest tightened as the woman moved, stretching the fabric of her dress against her frame. Allyson took it all in without shame, wondering if Madelyn had planned to keep her attention wholly on her. If it was the plan, it was working.

"For as long as I like?" she laughed — then caught the flash of a vial on Madelyn's tongue just before she turned to face her again. Raising a brow, she was a little jealous that the Minister would keep all the fun for herself. Before they would head into the event, the Agent pulled her Handler into another embrace.

The kiss was deep as she searched for a taste of whatever she had just taken. Satisfied, Allyson pulled away and mused.

"You're full of surprises, Minister," she winked and offered her arm to the woman, "Thank you for sharing."

A soft chuckle, and Allyson escorted the Minister of Order into the revelry. Before they drew closer, Allyson leaned into the question that was posed.

"Oh," Allyson remembered the message. A part of her had hoped that Madelyn had figured it out. Still, the other part of her — the one that was scared this romantic rendezvous was doomed to be short-lived if she expressed what she felt for the woman- was happy she didn't figure it out.

Allyson shrugged and played it off. "Oh Maddie, I was having a bit of fun. The message was nothing important." She waved her hand, trying to brush it off.

"I was just asking what you wanted for dinner… when we saw each other again."

 

[Lodd Grimmin]

Naamino Zuukamano Haro Aven Varin Mortifer Maiza Vex Glissara Leshanna Dromar Spirit of Korriban

Lodd was accustomed to uncomfortable environments, such as being in close proximity to Darth Caedes after they had finished consuming Chok Wok Chili from the Atrisian Restaurant located around the corner on 17th Street, next to the Exotic Food Store.

So the Valley of the Dark Lords was not much different save for the statues of snarling Sith Lords looming from the cliffs, their hollowed eyes seemingly tracking him and Moneybags as they hurried through the labyrinth of tombs.

The wind howled through the narrow canyons, echoing with whispers of ancient battles and, more recently, the cries of a Neimoidian accompanied by his very distracted rancor. His prized jewels had been saved from a gruesome fate, but his dignity had not.

A stray gust of wind had whipped his magnificent cape up and over his head, leaving him to navigate the treacherous course by the sound of his rancor's slobbering. Suddenly, a voice echoed in his head, strangely familiar and terribly, terribly loud. "Lodd! My dear, sweet Lodd! Can you hear me?"

Lodd, still draped in his own cape like a disgruntled ghost, stopped. "Father Nematode?" he mumbled, shaking his head.

The voice boomed again, "No, stupid. It is me, Lodd Grimmin. The one with more self-respect than you have at the moment. I've decided to make an appearance to save any semblance of dignity we have left." A miniature, glowing version of Lodd appeared just above his dashboard, wearing a tiny, judging frown.

"Look at you! Dressed like a fool, running down this valley riding on the back of a beast that's more interested in piles of garbage than on obtaining victory. What would your mother say?" Moneybags, apparently sensing the psychic intrusion, let out a deep, rumbling burp that shook Lodd's teeth. The little glowing conscience wobbled precariously.

Lodd, torn between the absurd spectacle and the race, finally tore his cape free from his face just in time to see something even more bizarre. The colossal statues of the Sith Lords weren't just statues anymore.

They were moving. One of them, a statue of Darth Malak, gave Lodd a jaunty wink. Another, a hulking figure of Darth Revan, gestured with a stony hand toward a shortcut through a particularly jagged ravine.

His tiny conscience, now furiously snapping photos, yelped in his ear. "Look! Your ancestors are cheering you on! Go, my son! Run like the wind! Run like you owe the entire Trade Federation a substantial sum of money!" Lodd, thoroughly unhinged by the spectral encouragement and the surprisingly nimble Sith statues, didn't hesitate. He kicked Moneybags into a full sprint, hurtling toward the narrow canyon.

First Post: 6
Second Post: 2
Third Post: 8

 

[Mercy]

Quinn Varanin

She sighed softly.

Ruled because of duty, not desire.

Was there anything more stereotypically noble than that? It was boring to Mercy. She didn't care about duty or honor. She craved that power, she desired that control for its own sake. Because in her hands it would feel better than watching it in someone else's. Quinn knew all of that, though, Mercy had never pretended to be anything other than what she was.

A selfish creature who would break anything to get what she wanted.

Quinn's trace along her jaw brought Mercy's attention back from the revelry and worship that had been claiming her obsession. Exactly how Quinn wanted it, Mercy's focus all on her.

It did mean that she noticed the jealousy in her eyes.

"Mm, everything?" She smirked softly. "That does sound appealing..." Then a shrug as Mercy leaned in and kissed Quinn's cheek gently. "But I already promised to make you Empress." The Sith whispered in her ear, words meant only for the Princess.

"No need to butter me up even more... even if it is appreciated."

 

[Darth Caedes]

K O R R I B A N

V A R D I N
C I T Y

​

"Of course your highness," said Darth Hydra bowing low.​

"You do me great honor."​

"Speak nothing of it," Caedes demurred, smiling.​

Srina stirred, rising to greet Carnifex.

"The war efforts of the Kainate are to be commended and well documented," Srina Talon assured.​

"But we have known each other too long, too well, for such formality."​

Caedes shifted his focus, studying how Kaine and the Lady Talon were with one another from beneath a furrowed brow, reverent and eager to touch.

"I did not fight alone," she continued.​

"Brosi was won by more than one hand, more than one banner. Let these spoils be divided amongst all who bled for them—the Kainites, Korriban, Eternalists, Commonwealth, and every other Order Faction and Legion who defended what is ours."​

Darth Carnifex seemed to acquiesce.

"We acknowledge and accept that which is given, mighty Empress," he said.​

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."​

The King did not flinch beneath the shadow of the Titan. Kaine's words, cold as the void, sought to dig into his marrow—yet Caedes' golden eyes burned on with a steady light. He leaned back in his seat, letting the silence stretch just long enough to make the audience uneasy. Then abruptly, with the ease of a serpent slipping through reeds, he smiled, rising with a fluidity to betray neither hesitation nor haste. His silken garments caught the smoke laden light and shimmered, whispering over tightly muscled skin—all of a dancer's grace bound to the poise of a predator.

"It may surprise you, Lord Carnifex," Caedes said at last, "that I agree, after a fashion."​

He bared his teeth in something which might have been mirth, if not for the dangerous glint of sharp teeth behind it.

"Korriban has, by now, no doubt proven its efficacy in matters of military might," he countered, stalking down from the throne's steps toward Carnifex.​

"That the mongrel's attack was aimed at restricting both Korriban and Dromund Kaas, specifically, speaks to where power is consolidated in the Holy Worlds. However, that these worlds—as a whole—are nonetheless characterized as prey at all, and ready for the taking, bears some examination in a more holistic, systemic sense. One could just as easily argue placing that responsibility instead at the feet of greater systems than Korriban, or any one world, and looking alternatively to those who presume to rule the collective—whose charge it is to defend and uphold these sacred worlds of the Sith." ​

Caedes gestured to the crowds, to the celebrations far flung across the many towers of Vardin, as if to showcase the evidence of success.

"The Confederation came for the Holy Worlds as pests come to the feasting. They were met with the Corpse Fleets of Korriban, spread across these Holy stars, defending Brosi, Ziost, Korriban, Florrum, Makem Te, and more. Wherever the enemy came, they were routed and repelled. Not merely held at bay either, mind you, but thoroughly broken. The vaunted ambitions of this apparent Confederation have yielded them only the despair of total failure against my forces."​

His voice softened, a dagger drawn from its sheath.

"If, once they are finished licking their wounds, they dare again to nip at our Holy Worlds... they will find not only Korriban waiting, but the sum of our allies, and a fleet far stronger than any they have yet faced."​

When he reached the Dark Lord, Caedes extended his hand in the clasp of equals—neither the formal greeting of Korribani Kings, nor in any format applicable to the Sepulchral's Necromancia—rather that of two warriors, triumphant in the wake of battle. His nails pressed deliberately into armored greaves.

"War has brought prosperity to my people," he revealed, gaze steady, golden fire burning against the titan's dark eyes.​

"And Korriban and the Black Gate welcomes your presence here."​

The words tasted like ash to his tongue; yet the mask was flawless, the King's smile poised as though born for this theater of thrones.

"My First Lord speaks with high praise of your conduct on Brosi. It is… not undeserved."​

Then he turned, voice pitched not only for Carnifex but for every ear on the dais.

"Your humility, my Empress, does you credit. The awakening of Psilofyr on Brosi was no small feat. It could not have been achieved without you," he said, inclining his head in reverence.​

"Nor without the Lady Revna Marr," he added, shifting his tone to one of measured defiance, "whose presence was likewise indispensable. I believe the two of you are already... well acquainted."​

Madrona A’Mia Darth Strosius Lunaria Talon Elmindra Xitaar Gerwald Lechner Revna Marr​

 

[Leshanna Dromar]

She was way behind, now. Possibly too far behind to even come remotely close to placing “well” in this race. Though, truthfully, Leshanna no longer cared about winning. What she cared about right now was living to see the end of it. Her arm screamed in pain, her hand tingling from how tight she had made the tourniquet. To her relief, at least for the moment, her Sithspawn mount was content on charging forward, chasing another racer, weaving in between and through the various carcasses of the Ashlan starships. Leshanna hung onto the maelidrae, the reins gripped tightly in her hands as she set her jaw in a scowl of determination.

Ahead loomed the next part of the course: the infamous Valley of the Dark Lords, where rebuilt and towering stone figures of ancient Sith Lords from the past looked down in silent judgment of those who passed beneath their purview.

As Leshanna came closer to the entrance of the valley, she drew closer to a few racers that were lagging behind - no doubt having trouble with their own mounts of choice. She could feel the coil of violence wind within the body of the maelidrae; no doubt it thought that prey was near, but she had no intention of letting it get close enough to make an attack - not yet at least. She wanted to gain some measure of control over the beast before she tried to knock others out of the race…but she was losing ground, losing time, and so far she hadn’t reached a point of understanding with her vicious Sithspawn mount.

Larger and larger the statues loomed, the great canyon beckoning the racers into its depths. The creature beneath her drew closer still towards a shadow rancor, its intent made clear as it almost seemed to lower itself closer to the red sands. She had to try to gain control of it, before it tried to make a meal of the rancor’s rider. Maybe, if she was lucky - she would be able to gain some control…and pull ahead in this Force forsaken race.

Just before her mount could make the leap, she gave a vicious tug on the reins, jerking the creature's sightless head away and towards the center of the canyon itself. The maelidrae shrieked in angry protest and tried, once again, to skewer her from behind. But this time Leshanna was ready for it, and used the pain she was feeling to strengthen her resolve and further impose her will upon the creature.

There was a little bit of a breakthrough between her and her mount of choice - at least it heeded her demands and began to speed into the canyon proper. Wind whistled through her air as the black Sithspawn's strides ate up the ground. Ahead, she could see the two Adars, being ridden by Varin and Naamino respectively, and then another flying beast that Haro was astride. There was another shadow rancor, its rider struggling to keep it on course - slowly but surely Leshanna seemed to be catching up to them all, but she was still no threat to anyone else in the race.

But she could use their lead to her advantage, especially in regards to this predatorial creature she had chosen for the race.

"...if you can catch up to them, I might let you eat them." she whispered to the maelidrae, hoping her words would encourage it to pursue them instead of trying to kill her as the race progressed. She was met with a wicked snarl and a deep growl, but it stayed the course, and she let it rip after the others as they continued to weave and turn through the Valley.


Dice Roll: 9+1(Terrain Modifier) TOTAL: 10
Supporting: Haro Aven

Tags:
Spirit of Korriban // Varin Mortifer // Naamino Zuukamano // Haro Aven // Glissara // Maiza Vex // Lodd Grimmin
​

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Objective I: Ascendent Revelries
Ayiaz

​

In truth, Lysander wasn't quite sure if what had been following them earlier had fallen away, or perhaps even wanted them out of the main hall and into the open. Either way, if there was an answer, it was written in the way Zaiya’s skin shifted through its spectrum, the way the Lovalla’s hues warmed as she ate. Things, for the moment, seemed to be looking back up.

A brow lifted at her offhand mention of a bonded mate, most likely carrying some private cultural weight that he could only guess away. Whatever it meant, he simply filed it away for later.

Drawing his plate in closer, he could feel the heat bleeding through the thin liner. And whatever etiquette he’d been raised with evaporated the very second he sank his teeth into the burger. The spiced nerf cheese hit him first, followed by the rich and savory bantha meat. A smear of relish already clung to the corner of his mouth; he wiped it away with the back of his hand, then licking his knuckles before diving in for another bite.

The haze still clung to him from a trip to the greenhouse earlier, a fog that made every little flavor bloom wider. A fry was plucked from the plate and he bit down. Lysander immediately regretted it; the heat nearly scorched his mouth. But he kept chewing.

Shortly after he realized his mouth was dry, having made the rookie mistake of not ordering a drink.

Glancing over at Zaiya, his voice remained calm. “No need to pay me back. It’s fine.”

Then, because silence had never really been his style, he let the words keep coming, each one a small nudge.

“If I knew this was all it took to keep you from arguing with me back on Naboo, I would’ve bought out the entire stall."

Somewhere from behind, one of the many crowds roared. But in this small circle of heat and grease, that noise felt far away.

“But don’t get used to it. Next time, you’re buying.”

Salt clung to his fingertips from that lone fry earlier, the one that’d nearly scorched his tongue. Without thinking, he brought them to his mouth, the taste sharper than ever. It made him want more. So he reached for another fry. Then another. Sure, the heat bit at him but he didn’t care.

"You don't get moments like this often in the galaxy."

 

[Ayiaz]

Objective I:
Ascendent Revelries
Lysander von Ascania

​

Lysander might have advised against paying him back, but the Lovallas were all about food. And while she might not share freely from her own plate as she had in the past, it didn't mean that Zaiya wasn't keen on offering a meal, either cooked by herself or through the invitation of sharing a meal at another diner, to try more yummy things to eat.

It was his little quip, however, regarding that if he knew all it took was to stuff her face with food to keep her from arguing with him, that prompted Zaiya to pause from taking another bite, her lips twisting in a comical pinching pout and roll of her eyes that was more mock irritation than any real offense.

Although the small threads of magenta in embarrassment over her mottled spots and stripes across her cheeks were telling enough that she still felt flustered and ashamed about all that.

"Yea-ah, well..." she began, looking equally sheepish and apologetic, as she explained, "I know I was wrong for lashing out at you without clarifying things at first. I just... got all flustered and embarrassed, and then I am very overprotective of Lossa because she was one of the first few people who cared about me."

She explained, then added, "And I was trying to apologize... but it never seemed to work out well at all. Anything I said seemed to get twisted, and I just got... even more upset."

Back then, Lysander had a way of finding the chink in her typically happy-go-lucky, optimistic bubble she typically had. He had found the bits of her that made her over-anxious, overthink, and overanalyze like any other teenage girl with growing doubts and concerns would. Only that for Zaiya, that was exponentially aggravated by her immense need to feel as if others liked her and accepted her.

She hadn't wanted to feel alone or hated.

"I can buy next time. Or make you something. I'm actually a great cook and baker!" she relayed, actually beaming with excitement at that. She took another bite, and again, was amazed at how awesome it tasted! Really, it was as if her senses were alit in ways that didn't require the Force.

It was fun. Interesting. Well, as much fun as one could have while feeling as if one's skin still crawled. It was such a bizarre sensation.

"I like making meals for others. Eating together can be fun. I like doing things like this. Trying new foods. New places." her opal blue eyes caught the blonde's expression as he kept eating the fries.

"Are you okay?" She asked in a half-laugh. While the empath wasn't able to truly feel through the Force as much with the constant suppression by the creatures that clung and spied through reflective surfaces, she could still read what that comical twist on Lysander's face meant.

 

[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! ​	9 + 1 = 10! Sabotaged! Glissara​	+1! Supported!​		32!​
Maiza Vex (Rancor)​	19 - 1 = 18! Sabotaged! Naamino Zuukamano ​	4 + 2 - 2 = 4!​	9 + 1 = 10!​			32!​
Glissara (Self)​	13!​	11 - 2 = 9!​	14 + 1 = 15!​	-1! Sabotaged!​		37!​
Naamino Zuukamano (Adar)​	13!​	-1! Sabotaged! 13 - 1 - 2 = 10!​	3 - 3 + 1 = 1! Oof!​			24!​
Varin Mortifer (Adar)​	12!​	8 - 2 = 6!​	5 - 3 + 1 = 3!​			21!​
Lodd Grimmin (Moneybags <3)​	4 + 2 = 6!​	2 - 2 + 2 = 2!​	7 + 1 = 8!​			16!​
Leshanna Dromar (Malidrae)​	2 - 2 = 0! Ooooof!​	2 - 2 - 2 = -2! ... somebody call a doctor!​	9 + 1 = 10! Supported! Haro Aven			8!​

The Nar-Hakel has never looked so dangerous, folks! And just like that, they're through the Valley and off towards the treacherous Nethermaw Tunnels!​

 

[Varin Mortifer]

Objective 2: Nethermaw Tunnels​

With each resounding burst from his palm he could feel a drain from his body. Bit by bit a breakdown began to occur. Slowly he could see he was gaining ground. But it was not fast enough. Varin cursed to himself in the ancient tongue.

Boy, use me. Maybe I can get us further.

A growl rumbled from Varin’s chest. Once again he felt he was incapable of tackling a hardship HIMSELF.

“NO! I CAN DO IT!”

He roared to himself as his fist tightened in the reins, cutting off circulation. With his free hand he pushed himself up so he was standing on the Adar’s back. Placing his dominant foot behind him he adopted a stance he had been practicing for dueling. Planting himself firmly on the back of the Adar.

“I don’t always have to call upon YOU!”

His back began to smolder as his frustration built. Smoke billowed from the ritual runes burned into his back, creating a thick black cloud trail behind him. He leaned forward as his arms stiffed at the elbow to his sides.

“I…can…do it…right?” His voice echoed as his Adar passed into the Nethermaw. The Adar weaving between the stalagmites and stalactites. The darkness inside the Nethermaw was potent. Though the bit of flame licking out of his back provided some soft light.

As the thought ran from his mouth his back erupted violently in a bright flash of flame, propelling him and his beast forward, bursting past Naamino and Zafira with a bellowing roar of pent up aggression, just ahead of him was Haro on his Drexl that Varin had exploded past as well, then his glaring gaze fell upon the rampaging rancor ahead of him. Sharply pulling his reins to the side and turning his body he forced his Adar into a spin cutting the rider off as his back began to billow with more smoke, surrounding the rancor just behind him.

Though he could feel his body getting heavier he shook his head as he continued to focus on the race. Still weaving through the tangled mess of the caverns he noticed a fairly large stalactite in front of him coming up fast. Quickly he hurled his hand forward with a burst of flame that resulted in a massive concussive blast, greatly weakening its structure. If this could slow Maiza and her rampaging sithspawn, then he would take this opportunity.

[Rolled 16, sabotaging Maiza Vex with falling debris]

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