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Samurai Drac. (Open to Confederacy)

The Mother of All Psy-Pires

It was just after sunset. Just when it was relatively safe to come out. Sleeping during the day was a game of guesswork, finding a place isolated, but not too isolated. Safe but not so safe as to draw suspicion as to her habits. Always guesswork.

The woman's green shaded, flower printed robes, covering a six and a half foot frame glided just above the sands of a night desert. They figure they covered was athletic, but somewhat curvy as well. She had always been able to attract men, even before this wretched disease dominated her days.

Her arms hung to the side, never moving as she walked, though the ceremonial robes hid that motion, making her movement across the desert far more unnatural looking than it actually was. Her two main weapons hung by her left, her ivory hilted katana with a dragonhead pommel, known as Hundred Handed Giant, its edge facing upward as it rested in its scabbard, its length coincidentally accomodating the height of the woman who used it. Hundred Handed Giant was a Murderer's Blade. She had known when she first found it in Shojo's Necropolis it had tasted innocent blood. Not the blade of a noble warrior. But it was all a parasite such as her deserved to wield, despite its stainless, silvery quality, which glittered with even the faintest light, and the strange pattern on a razor sharp edge, which resembled wood rings. Her back up sword, one she had owned as a tool of harming vampires due to the heavy trace amounts of silver in its chemical composition, rested underneath it. It was a straight, double edged blade with a golden and black lattice pattern on its cortosis-weave metal resting in a sheath with a similar iridescent lattice pattern as the blade it protected. It was shorter than the Katana, and had a one handed grip. Her fingers flexed, curling and uncurling unconsciously as she moved forward to the training facility on this desert world. A relatively large one.

She was not sure why she was out tonight. She usually stayed hidden after feeding on a months worth of thought and memory as she had done. But she was restless. And she had heard of this confederacy. Though she was very apprehensive about working for a Sith Lord, she also realized that she was in an inferior position. Beggars cannot be choosers. The Confederacy sheltered many types. And the type she was was outcast. Exiled. No longer worthy. And that was what hurt most of all. The filth, the unworthiness of what she was, a glorified tick.

But this training facility was no pushover she thought as her tall figure glided across adjacent facilities to reach its entrance. Many swordsman came here to train. Her weak Force Sense let her know some here were already strong in the Force as she was allowed past after quietly stating her intentions...

To fight. They say many Confederacy warriors passed through here. She wished to test the mettle of any who would duel her. Not to the death of course. That would have just been rude. But as the tall woman glided across to a dueling ring that was not occupied, waiting to see who would fight. She spotted members of the knights obsidian sparring with others.

She kept her hood on, let it obscure her eyes, which were a semitranslucent obsidian color, emitting a faint glow of purple from the center. No sense in spooking them. None of them knew what she was...not yet any way.

Nine Lives waited for a challenger in the vast dueling chamber, hand on hilt, prepared to draw it.

[member="Srina Talon"]

Tobias Dib

The Bad Twin
He walked through the barracks of the Knights Obsidian. The light wind rustled his unkempt brown hair. He was ordinarily sized, neither height nor build was imposing. But there was something in the way he moved, a lithe grace, that belied the tale of his body. He moved gracefully, seemingly carefree gaze flickering over the Knights as he traversed the compound. The young man nodded cordially to larger, more imposing armored figures who gave him only looks of disdain. A man who wore no armor, no visible scars, no haunted look in his gaze. He was judged as a rookie and hopeful. He would accept the facade created by the Knights and wear it as his own armor.

Crossing the pathways he made his way past the mess hall where raucous laughter echoed out between compatriots. He chose to continue on and have a look at the training yards. Aye, he wasn't one of them and the man he had been searching here wasn't present either. But to pass up the chance to see a part of history which was living in front of his eyes, how could he pass it up.

He may not have been armored this evening, yet he wore his weapons. The katana hanging from his kama swayed slightly with his gait, the curved edge faxing his feet. On his opposite side the wakizashi rested in it's scabbard, tucked into the Kama, curved blade pointing to the heavens. The curved hunting knife of his father's resided just behind his left hip. The Warhammer hung loosely from his left hand. No, he was not without weapons nor did only those visible count as his only ones.

In a clearing he moved to one of the marked off buildings where weapons training we're reportedly taking place. Getting passage within was not difficult and he entered to slowly watch the different matches occurring within. A light smile touched his lips at the realization that this wasn't the past, but a new and exciting present he found himself in. One where the mistakes of the past could be overwritten and a new destiny forged.

Moving to one of the walls he lightly crouched, allowing his Warhammer to lean alongside him. Several were going through training drills, but a solitary woman entered and headed for an empty training ring. She was tall, no doubt, and had a peculiar gait. Arching a brow he nodded slightly as he appraised her choice of weaponry. And so he waited, a silent shadow to merely observe for now.

[member="Srina Talon"] I [member="Nine Lives"]
Location: Golbah City - Training Facility
Wearing: This


Golbah City in the evening hours always had a little bit of an orange glow. Srina wasn’t sure what it was, exactly, but there was always a fine layer of sand or dust covering everything by the end of the day. Not for the first time, or the last, she found herself walking toward the training facility that [member="Rex Taff"] had set up before taking his departure. It was suited for all sorts of martial arts and could even contain the hardiest of her Force related attacks.

So far, at least.

She hadn’t truly put it to the test when her temper got the better of her, but, she generally used it to train others. Not herself. There were only a few that even bothered trying to put up a decent fight until they resorted to using the Force to win. Srina was an Echani first, a Sith Apprentice second, and always fell back to her roots in a friendly spar before she resorted to cheating. Now, in a real battle, against a real foe, she would use every card in her arsenal. She had many. [member="Darth Metus"] had spared her very little when it came to training. Save, for alchemy.

His blood magic did not appeal to her. She never minded giving of herself, when required, but she believed in putting the soul of the enemy to rest when she was through with them. She feared the possibility of binding them to an object for her own gain and thus stayed away from the craft entirely. It some respects, she weakened him, by forcing a promise that he would not use death in the Forge beneath their home on Ryloth.

Srina was not overly superstitious but there was something terrifying about the thought of souls being trapped beneath her bed.

The white-haired woman had taken to guiding some of the young duelists that turned up in the twilight hours, walking the area, guiding them through simple techniques. Some of them were excellent. Others…She was a little afraid they might skewer themselves. With a blunt practice weapon. She called for the fighters to switch out when they seemed to have overtaxed themselves and kept moving through the rings. “Keep your back straight. Your grip should be firm but not so tight that it feels like a burden.”

The Knights that were sparring seemed to take her words to heart and doubled their efforts. She nodded her head and kept making her rounds. It reminded the slender woman of Eshan. Combat was a way of life. It told stories of life, death, love, and everything else in-between. While some might have found it stressful, she found it the opposite, and her soul felt at peace.

When she came across a woman in clothing that was far from the standard, flowing robes, with a printed floral pattern she paused. The white-haired Echani herself wore little more than a pair of training pants and a protective brassiere. Srina did not know the names of all of the Knights that came to train but she could recognize most of them on sight. She did not recognize this woman. “Are you looking for someone to duel with? Or just practicing form?”

It was a valid question. There were many occasions when that turned out to be the case.

Silver eyes flickered, briefly, when she felt a barely familiar presence. It was the boy from Orcus. Srina could not see him but she most definitely recognized him. It would be hard not to, after the inferno they’d collectively created, burning their way through enemies, who thought they had a chance. Her senses quieted as she focused. Was he a new Knight? Or did he belong to the Mandragora?

Something about him reminded her of someone she knew. Like déjà vu. She couldn’t say what.

[member="Tobias Dib"] | [member="Nine Lives"]
The Mother of All Psy-Pires
The First Psy-Pire stared at the approaching woman with the snowy skin and hair. She suddenly felt chilly for some reason, though she could not explain why. But she could feel the power. Oh yes. This was no adept that had been dragged off the street and given a lightsaber. This one had the look of someone being groomed to assume more responsibility someday, seeing how she was giving pointers to much older and larger men on their technique. Her father Shimada had done much the same in his Five Rings School. Such a delicate looking creature...not that this would fool anyone who knew what to look for. That air of casual power was something most Sith were good at. The girl was no Jedi, certainly, Not with that gaze.

"I am here to train...and learn about this Confederacy of yours. And your Knights." Nine answered under the hood, the purple-dot glow of her eyes the only thing that could be seen. The hood had always obscured her face well.

"I seek purpose. The Imperials and this First Order do not appeal to me. Others...I am unsuited to joining any longer. And so I come to your confederates to see if we have anything in common at all. And the best way to do that...for to battle one of you. Perhaps you can help me understand what you fight for here, if you are willing to humor a..."

She paused. How best to describe herself? She couldn't just say she was a parasite.

"...woman who was too lucky for her own good..." she finished cryptically, but honestly.

She needed to feel battle. Adrenaline. Anything but how screwed she and everyone else she had infected was. She noticed one other challenger close by, a man armed with quite the selection, including Katanas. What school had he trained under? She made a note to challenge him later. It was a habit with her: Everytime she saw someone with a Katana she was always tempted to fight just to see what else she could learn.

"My name is Nine Lives. Will you accept a friendly bout between us?" she asked of [member="Srina Talon"].

[member="Tobias Dib"].

Tobias Dib

The Bad Twin
He felt a cold shill run up his spine as his eyes lit upon the Empress. No, not Empress yet. As she moved gracefully through the Knights, giving soft instruction in form or grip of weaponry he felt the momentary respect for a fellow artist. Her skill was obvious and the weight of authority she carried was seen as veterans both young and old adhered to her words. It was an impressive display, yet he knew what she would become. And that charisma and power would aid her as Empress. His lips pressed together as she entered the arena with [member="Nine Lives"] .

The silver eyes of the Echani, [member="Srina Talon"], flickered toward his direction in which he pulled his presence in, closing off his mind. Cooly he eased any expression from his face. Easing through the press of bodies between himself and the women he again felt eyes upon him. The tall one was eyeing his own weaponry, much as he had appraised her own choice. A light nod of recognition was given as he tried to decipher the words she had spoken. There was no clarity in her description.

Near the arena he paused to watch the duel that was about to occur. His curiosity of both their form and ability caught his attention, waiting for the crossing of blade and the seductive and dangerous dance that was to ensue.

Don't feel the need to wait for me. I'm merely an observer at this point in time.

Kainan Wolfe

Shadow of War
Attn: [member="Tobias Dib"] | [member="Nine Lives"] | [member="Srina Talon"]
  • Knights Obsidian Barracks
    Geonosis, Confederacy of Independent Systems

A cloaked figure watched from the shadows, his back resting against a wall and a taloned hand resting casually on the hilt of the longsword hanging from his belt, as it often did. It was not that he wished to keep his presence here concealed, the sword's dark stain in the Force would give him away to any Force sensitive within a thirty meters radius. Rather, he was simply a very private person, who preferred to keep to himself. And for good reason.

Although not being one of their order, the beast-like Sith Lord had numerous dealings with several prominent members of the Knights Obsidian, which meant that his presence within their training yard would not be rejected, especially since he was an accomplished warrior who's unorthodox techniques might be seen as an object of interest for several of them.

He had mostly recovered from the ordeal of having his soul bound to the Netherworld and his body twisted by Sith sorcery during the ritual which brought him back from the dead, but he had not yet grown fully accustomed to all the changes. The sharp talons at the end of his fingers, although certainly useful in a fight, were certainly the most difficult of the physical changes, to adapt to, especially due to their tendency to snag onto things, though his sharper eyesight and the perception of new colors for which he didn't even have names, could sometimes cause him bouts of nausea and dizziness.

It wasn't these changes that he struggled with the most, though. The ritual had stripped away a part of his humanity and replaced it with something more primordial and animalistic. Constant pain and the unnatural cold were accompanied by a primal, fierce rage that gave him the impulse to hurt and kill, a rage which he had subdued only with great difficulty.

He needed to clear his mind and get back into shape. And there was nothing quite like intense physical activity and combat training, to do that. So, the Sith Lord stood there in the shadows, waiting for a potential sparring partner to enter the compound.
Location: Golbah City - Training Facility
Wearing: This


The typically quiet Sith Apprentice took a moment to re-evaluate the dark-haired woman that stood before her. Something about her resonated differently. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it but there was something about her that she did not quite understand, however, it felt familiar. It was similar to a few others that she had crossed paths with recently. The words that followed from the olive-skinned beauty were direct and to the point. Srina was someone that didn’t believe in beating around the bush so she appreciated the candid tone and her swan-like neck inclined as she nodded her head.

“If you are looking to train—this is definitely the place to be. The Knights train here at all hours. If you’re looking for more information about the Confederacy I can also aid in that endeavor.”

She explained a little further and the Echani born woman listened to the rest of her dialogue in silence. There were several points of interest, but, more than anything she wondered what the female meant by being ‘unsuited any longer’ for other nations. It seemed to point in the areas of the Silvers or the New Jedi Order. This begged the question: What had she done? What had she done, or, what did she blame herself for that made her believe she was unworthy to walk in the light?

Nevertheless, the Confederacy tended not to judge. They were a land made for misfit toys. For those that had purpose, and desires, but could not find a place among the more popular nations. It was safe for the most part, for those with weary bones, or weary circuits as it were. Even droids, who were sentient enough to ask for respite, were welcomed. “I see nothing wrong with humoring a lucky woman…Perhaps that good luck will rub off.”

A pale smile slid over her features. It was both joyless and aristocratic—but she tried to express humor when and where she could. She had been getting better at is lately, however, her military training had been stringent. Blinking in the face of battle was too easy a way to die. She felt a chill run down her neck, familiar as the winter, and she knew that someone familiar had arrived. [member="Darth Tacitus"]. She had known him as Kainan Wolfe long before he had become the man that stood before her today.

Silently, she nodded her head toward the dark-lit man in a soft notion of respect. He was different than the man she had come to know, but nonetheless, she trusted him to uphold the person she had trusted in her memories. Uncertain if he would want to be paired with someone looking for a duel, or, if there really was anyone else waiting in the wings she, in turn, nodded her head to Nine Lives.

“I am Srina Talon. I would accept. When we finish, if you like, I can answer any questions about the Confederacy.”

The white-haired woman eyed her weaponry. Most of the Knights in the room were using training swords, or, had sabers that were flipped to a practice setting. The Force User let her fingertips roll through the air and a similar weapon to that which Nine Lives wore leaped from one of the many racks to her hand. Her telekinesis had been instinctual. Once upon a time, it had overwhelmed her, tearing through things when anger or pain got the best of her on the inside. That happened no longer.

Srina moved within the confines of the dueling ring and fell fluidly into a defensive stance. Echani eyes swept over her opponent in a wintry assessment. Training with a flesh and blood foe was far different than actually fighting to the death. He strikes would be concise, forceful, but less aimed at a requirement of actual damage. The blade she had chosen was not without sharpness, however, it would not be as honed as that which Nine Lives held. There were very, very few weapons that she could not handle. Such was the life of a woman born from the Echani Military. The fighting styles they held were unique in that a singular stance was often thought to be inferior. They flowed from one to the next, adapting to their opponents as needed.

“We remain in the ring if only to keep from crossing other Knights during their training. Otherwise, I have no stipulations. By your leave, when you are ready, feel free to begin.”

[member="Tobias Dib"] | [member="Nine Lives"]
The Mother of All Psy-Pires
Snow-Hair gave her name. That of [member="Srina Talon"]. Aristocrat. Nine had once been something approaching that. But it was the type of aristocracy that wasn't based so much on matters of royalty as it was on being able to kill people in great numbers that other, more powerful people did not like. With blood and spilt viscera came titles and finery. Paid for in sword slices and severed parts.

Her family's livelihood, built on corpses. On blood. It was as vampiric as it sounded, and yet not a one of them until her, ninth and last of Shimada Li-Ves children, had actually sprouted fangs and stalked people from behind.

Wonder what her birthdays taste like she thought, and instantly loathed herself for it. She could never shut it off. That hunger. That sizing people up for a quick snack. It never. Ever. Stopped.

There was no noise that came from the woman as she accepted Srina's challenge. Just a nod. She glided, her sword held low, one handed. A fools guard. Beginning to cicle Srina, her purple dot glow at the center of the obsidian spheres that served as her eyes, she nodded silently as she was told to start whenever. Other pings of life, dark pings, were notes to examine for later. There was just her in that dueling cicle, and Talon.

Swiftly, and without any noise save her Katana whooshing through air, Nine targeted Talons arm, the angle of her sword coming down in a shallow arc even as her own body shifted as best it could out of a return strike. The unsettlingly smooth movement of her motion helped by the way her robes had been designed, meant to hopefully confuse and possibly psychologically unsettle potential made any sort of walking or strafing look utterly unnatural. She never figured out out how her..."children" had managed that.

The slice itself was meant to try and trick Srina into blocking or parrying. If she did so, Nine would spin in the direction of the parry. If she blocked, Nine would press closer, use her natural height advantage to try and force Talon to one knee and disarm her. It was the strategy of a soldier. Her fathers strategy, taken from surviving packed battle fields at close range against other sword fighters. Practical.

Srina looked more agile though. She could easily evade either, possibly even retaliate once doing so. If that happened, Nine was half expecting a retaliation attack. But it all depended if Talon went for the trick.