Faction Shadowed Callings - [The Dark Court]

[Darth Virelia]

"Starting the plague."

Tags -


Beneath the endless strata of Coruscant, where sunlight was a myth and the air tasted of metal and secrets, Darth Virelia sat alone.

The chamber she had claimed was carved into the bones of the city's forgotten machinery—its walls a jagged amalgam of durasteel ribs and exposed conduit, glistening faintly in the half-light. The silence here was not empty; it was dense, watchful, and heavy with anticipation. It pressed in on the senses like a held breath.

The table before her was a vast circle of black glass, so smooth and flawless it seemed to swallow the glow above and bleed it back in violet reflections. A single magenta ring of light hung suspended over the center, its radiance sharp enough to carve her silhouette in liquid fire. Dust motes drifted lazily in the beam, vanishing into the dark the moment they slipped beyond its reach.

The rest of the room was swallowed in shadow. Only faint glimmers—jagged slashes of purple from distant neon signs, the cold reflection of an illuminated sigil on the far wall—hinted at the scale of the place. That sigil, sharp and geometric, pulsed like the heartbeat of the room, its glow mirrored in her armor.

She sat at the head of the table, her posture relaxed but absolute, one gauntleted hand draped loosely along the arm of her chair. The other rested on the obsidian surface, fingers tracing idle arcs that left no mark yet suggested precision, calculation, inevitability.

Her armor caught the light like flowing oil, the segmented plates flexing subtly with her every breath. Veins of faint violet energy ran along its ridges, pulsing in time with some private rhythm. Her mask—a void-smooth black mirror broken only by six symmetrical, glowing eyes—gave no hint of expression. Those eyes shifted slowly, methodically, studying the empty chairs that awaited occupants.

The Dark Court would begin here.

They would arrive soon enough, drawn by her summons like predators to a wounded heartbeat. Some would come out of greed, others from desperation. Some would believe they could use her. She would let them think so, just long enough to make their loyalty a reflex, not a choice.

The air was thick with the scent of rain on metal, the ozone tang of old circuitry. In the far corners, shadows seemed almost to move, the illusion born from the interplay of dim light and industrial ruin. Every so often, the faint thrum of repulsorlifts passing far above reverberated through the structure, the city's heartbeat layered over the quieter, more dangerous pulse of her own intent.

Virelia leaned forward slightly, resting her forearms on the table. The movement brought her deeper into the magenta glow, setting the mirrored planes of her mask ablaze with color. In that light, she was no longer a figure seated at the head of a table—she was the axis of the room, the point around which all else would inevitably orbit.

Her voice did not break the silence. Not yet. Anticipation was the sharper blade, so she let the moments stretch, each one feeding the tension that would greet her guests when they stepped through the door.

She imagined their expressions—hidden or not—when they first saw her like this. Alone, yes, but unassailable. The exile who had not vanished into obscurity but instead claimed the deep places of the galaxy's beating heart as her throne. A faint, slow smile curved behind her mask, unseen but present in the way she shifted her posture—a subtle, predatory readiness. She thought of the galaxy above: its governments complacent, its orders fractured, its predators distracted by their own games.

The Dark Court would be the infection that spreads unseen until it was too late.

 

[Her]

---

---

Anomaly: 85185141183, Enarc, Mid Rim systems;
High Republic Space.
Tag: Darth Virelia

---

The Anomaly, an engimatic skyscraper found in the heart of the city on Enarc, glowed a malevolent red hue across the skies surrounded in fog and mystery. Within it's maze sat the Dark Lord of the Sith, and before Her were the obfuscated emitters of their own creation. Encrypted, coded transmissions burst from the tower, and as they travelled across lightyears- bouncing off satellites and relays obscured by her powers in the dark side- she waited to meet the Corruptor themselves.

Serina Calis- no, Darth Virelia- had told the Dark Lord that they would intertwine themselves into societies, organisations and sects in order to show them what they were. The Sith Order had gone onto reveal themselves for all to see. It has been written across the stars themselves for several millennia: only through strength do I gain power. To those who follow the pathology of the dark side know that they must encourage and invite challenge so that only the strong may prevail. Yet their adversaries from Jutrand, Avalonia and Dromund Kaas had used their combined power to stop Virelia in her tracks.

The circumstances surrounding her co-conspirators exile from Sith space only confirmed what Her knew to be true. Indeed, it should be as Bane had designed. The Sith Order must be torn down and diluted into it's purest form. If not then the weak flock together and destroy the strong together for they, as individuals, could not stand by themselves. Wasn't Virelia's exile proof enough of this?

Eckonernherhrrrm...

In the corner of the chamber a holographic transmitter burst into life. It's artificial blued glow overshadow by the obscene and esoteric powers of the Sith Lord sat in the centre. There was no face for the hologram to transmute. No body or silhouette to give Virelia or this Dark Court an idea of who was on the other side. Yet the light cackled in the din, and beneath the veneer of the dark-side, a presence could be felt through the Force itself.

Elusive. Enigmatic.

Watching and listening.

---

 

[Kaila Irons]

Wearing: Armor + Robes
Tag: Darth Virelia Her | TBA

Anathemous took two steps our of the shadows, arms crossing as the meeting began.

She was standing not behind, but beside Virelia now, close enough to touch. There were no distinguishing features by which the other attendants may identify the Lord of Blades, her features were masked, and even that was obscured in the shade of a Zeyd-cloth hood.

No, the only thing they had to go off of was she boasted a strong and imposing figure.

And that whoever she was, she was allowed close to Virelia.

Her visor reflected back the violet haze as though it too was alight, a single slit in the shadow, a perfect match for the Six-eyed mask of the self proclaimed Dark Lady of the Sith who sat beside her.

The same Dark Lady who promised to carve her path to the throne. To make her Empress.

Getting herself exiled didn't sound like part of the plan.

She impatiently tapped her finger against her arm. Things had become more complicated than they already were, unpredictable and Anathemous hated the unpredictable. Already the chairs were filling up with faces she could not recognize nor identify if she tried, and if they were here for the exile, they were surely traitors and foreign opportunists all.

But what did that make her...?

​

 

[Valaine Valentine]

Not much care was given to mask Valaine's own arrival as she trudged into the room with slow strides, slightly leaned forward with her hands concealed within the pockets of her dark robes. The most caution given to concealing her identity was simply with the black hood cast over her head, but her pale face was still very much recognizable. Her presence in the force was exceptionally weak and it would be easy to guess that she was no one of great power. She was in truth just a recently acquired apprentice hungry for power.

She never looked at any of the other attendants as she made her way to her seat, one that was noticeably as far away from Virelia as she could get. She gripped the chair and pulled it back as it screeched against the floor. "Ah-..." she paused suddenly as she noted that she broke the silence with such a sound, and so awkwardly she sat down in the chair only to notice that she had pulled it back too far... There was another brief sound of metal scraping against metal as she managed to slide the chair a little closer towards the table, but of course, it was still too far. Valaine looked rather awkward; she wanted to be closer towards the table but she didn't want to draw any attention. But it couldn't be helped...

A final sound of metal scraping metal as she slid the chair forward one more time. It was now perfectly where she wanted it. She held a hand before her mouth as she coughed lightly and then squirmed a little in her seat in a bid to get comfortable before finally leaning forward to fold both her arms onto the table.

It was only then that her tired gray eyes briefly glanced around the room to silently take note of who was present. When her eyes passed over Kaila she didn't seem to recognize her.


Tags - Darth Virelia , Her , Kaila Irons

 

[Lyssa Cluada]

Darth Virelia Her Kaila Irons Valaine Valentine

The telltale sound of metal meeting metal in the form of footsteps announced the arrival of Lyssa Cluada.

Her mistress had summoned her here, and her call was as undeniable as the pull of a star's orbit. No dog could resist their owner, no acolyte didn't come running when their master called their name.

The cyborg was no different.

With her cowled hood bathing her features in shadow, Lyssa approached the only seat left next to her mistress - the other had been taken by a masked woman who she didn't recognise. Meeting her master's six eyed mask with a glance that sought permission, Lyssa found it and took her place at her mistress's side, her tattooed hands resting patiently on the obsidian table.

If her queen was to start a court, the mirialan would be there to ensure the other knights knew their place - as servants of the dark monarch and no one else.

 

[Darth Virelia]

"Starting the plague."

Tags - Lyssa Cluada Her Kaila Irons Valaine Valentine

The chamber's silence was a living thing—heavy, taut, and tasting faintly of metal and ozone.
The magenta ring-light above painted the black glass table in a lurid halo, turning its surface into a perfect reflection of the violet lines that pulsed faintly along Virelia's armor.

She sat at the head of the circle in Tyrant's Embrace, utterly still, the six slanted eyes of her mirrored mask drifting languidly over each presence in the room. Beside her, Anathemous stood like a shadow sharpened to a blade; on her other side, Lyssa waited in reverent stillness. Across the table, Valaine's awkward scraping of her chair had faded into irrelevance—the moment belonged wholly to the woman at the center.

The blue of the hologram.

Her.

She did not speak immediately. Virelia understood the exquisite art of waiting—of letting the anticipation tighten, coil, and sharpen into hunger. She allowed herself the slow indulgence of leaning forward, the plates of her armor whispering against one another. Her taloned fingers came to rest on the obsidian tabletop, their tips catching the violet light like shards of glass.

When she spoke, her voice was a slow, silken drawl—low enough to force attention, sharp enough to draw blood.

"Let the rest file in," she said, the words languid but edged. "They can catch up, if they dare. We will not wait for the hesitant."

Her gaze turned—six points of violet fire fixing on no one and everyone at once.

"You have heard the whispers. The Emperor has cast me into exile."
She let the statement hang, a serpent tasting the air.
"Not for treason. Not for failure. No… for challenging one of his precious pets—Darth Malum of House Marr—to a Kaggath. A challenge as old as the Order itself. A rite older than most of our palaces, older than the bloodlines that clutch at power like starving dogs. In the days when the Sith were strong, this was our way: conflict without pretense, ambition without permission. And yet—"

Her talon scraped the table's surface with a faint, surgical hiss.

"They called it heresy."

The mask tilted slightly, as if in faint amusement, though her tone was venom and smoke.
"They have violated their own blood-written traditions to protect the weak from the strong. To shield a favored dog from the teeth of the wolf. That is not the way of the Sith. That is not the way of the Dark Side. It is the way of frightened men and women clutching their titles as shields."

Her voice lowered further, curling around each syllable like a caress and a choke in the same breath.

"And so I adapt. We adapt. The old Order rots from within, and I will not waste my blade cutting away its dead flesh. Instead, we will carve our own path through the chaos."

She straightened, the plates of her armor catching the magenta glow as if the light bent to her.

"This galaxy burns. The Galactic Empire has seized the Core from the Alliance, its rebellion still bleeding the old guard. The High Republic held the line against the Black Sun on Sepan Eight. The Diarchy and the Mandalorian Empire gnaw at each other's borders like beasts too stubborn to retreat. And the Confederation and the Sith Order spill blood over Brosi's corpse."

Her talons drummed lightly against the table—slow, deliberate.

"This is a galaxy in chaos. A galaxy at war. And chaos… is opportunity."

She let the words settle, heavy and intoxicating.

"While they bleed each other dry, we will drink from their veins. While they fight for borders, we will claim their hearts, their minds, their chains of command. We will step into their halls as allies, as advisors, as lovers, as saviors—and when they no longer remember life before us… we will close our hands around their throats."

Her mask inclined forward slightly, her voice rich with decadent promise.

"This is the Dark Court's purpose. We will forge Sith worthy of the title 'Lord.' We will hone ambition until it cuts as clean as a monomolecular blade. We will play every side—Galactic, Imperial, Republic, criminal, Mandalorian—and we will play them well. We will corrupt every power we touch, until their own hands serve our will."

The crystalline node in her chest pulsed faintly, like a second heartbeat.

"They will kneel. Not in fear, but in surrender—believing it was their idea to bow."

Her gaze shifted to the holographic shimmer of the distant Dark Lord, then swept across the room with slow precision, like a predator selecting where to bite first.

"You will not squabble for crumbs at the tables of empires. You will sit at this one, and you will feast. And those who cannot match the hunger in this room will not survive it."

Her voice grew almost intimate, every syllable sinking deep.

"I will teach you to take what is denied. The throne you dream of but have never dared to claim. The flesh you ache for but could never reach. The vengeance you bury so deeply you almost believe you've forgotten it. You will take it all, and I will show you how."

The mask turned slightly, the six eyes catching the light in a way that made them flare like embers about to consume dry wood.

"But there is no banquet without a table. We need a place to begin, a throne from which to cast our shadows across the stars. And so, our first objective is set."

Her talon traced a slow circle on the table's surface, and a holographic map flickered to life—an ancient world, blackened and scarred.

"Malachor V. A graveyard of the Old Wars. A place drenched in death, where the Dark Side bleeds through every stone. No government dares claim it. No faction dares linger there long. It will be ours."

The hologram's crimson light painted her armor in shades of blood.

"From there, we will build. Ships, weapons, networks. Cells embedded in every major power. We will be their advisors, their suppliers, their hidden masters. And when the time comes… we will step from shadow to throne, and the galaxy will realize too late that it has already fallen."

She leaned back, letting the image of Malachor hang over the table like a wound in space itself.

"This is your first loyalty. Your first oath. To the Court. To each other. And to me."

For a long moment, there was no sound but the faint hum of the magenta ring above them.

"Now. Tell me. The one true question that matters..."

Then, with great power, she finished:

"What do you desire? What do you want?"

 

[Kaila Irons]

Wearing: Armor + Robes
Tag: Darth Virelia Her Valaine Valentine Lyssa Cluada

"Hmh."

Anathemous inclined her visor towards Valaine's arrival.

To see her face here was a surprise to be sure, but a welcome one. She'd obviously survived the war in the Caldera unscathed, and the Lord of Blades wondered if their training on Korriban had anything to do with it, or she'd simply been fortunate enough to avoid the heaviest fighting.

How she survived didn't matter in the end, so long as the Sangnir learned from it.

Virelia broke the silence then, the sith's helm naturally tilting to better hear her silken voice.

"You have heard the whispers. The Emperor has cast me into exile."

So it was true.

Exo-muscle quietly coiled beneath wide sleeves, her entire body tensing under these dark revelations. Yet to her utter surprise, the venom in Virelia's voice was not vengeful. It just was. She listened quietly, letting the spider's words overtake all opportunity to interject as they always had.

For the first time in what felt like years, Anathemous agreed with her.

Every word.

The cancer of those noble houses who'd been allowed to debase her home with their nepotism and politics. How they must set their sights beyond the Blackwall, to deliver violence and corruption to their neighbors. To rule from the shadows as their ancestors did millennia ago.

This was not the open rebellion Anathemous had feared.

It reminded her more of Leven Jeyd's Sith Brotherhood—Fanged-God rest her soul—and the twisted sense of community and cooperation it brought her in those dark times when she fought to be more than Kaine's shadow.

Never again did she imagine an organization like that shadowed council, and yet here they sat.

"This is your first loyalty. Your first oath. To the Court. To each other. And to me."

And it was everything she had hoped for. Sith standing together, fighting as pack in a world of lone wolves. They would eat the weak among them of course, but so too would they keep each other strong.

Order amidst the chaos. Their order.

"What do you desire? What do you want?"

A beat passed. Then two. Kaila had not even realized she'd been staring Virelia down until the question rang aloud. She tore her eyes away, laid her palms flat on the table.

"Immortality." she declared, voice modulated beyond recognition.

"So that I may live to complete the great work..."

"...and challenge the undying."

​

 

[Darth Kharnaz]

Kharnaz arrived.

He was late. An altercation with an old enemy had delayed him and now the doors of the meeting room were shut. He snarled in frustration. So they thought they could start without him? He would show them.

Kharnaz would not be denied.

With a grunt of rage he summoned the force to him, releasing it on the door. With a terrific crash it was torn off its hinges, flying across the room. He stooped down to enter through the too small doorway.

There they were. Sitting around a holo-table. He did not wait for an introduction or acknowledgement. He marched inside and stood, a short nod to his mistress to acknowledge her. The others got nothing.

He stared at the projection before him. He knew the rumors of Malachor 5. Everyone did. A cold, dead world inhabited by no one but ghosts. A fine base of operations.

"Immortality." she declared, voice modulated beyond recognition.

"So that I may live to complete the great work..."

"...and challenge the undying."

Kharnaz had not heard much of the meeting but he heard this. A standard desire of those too weak to achieve their goals in one lifetime. Kharnaz had no desire for eternal life. Kharnaz's wants were more practical.

"I want knowledge of force powers, mistress. I desire to kill not just with blade and lightning but with every spectrum of hatred."

 

[Her]

---

---

Anomaly: 85185141183, Enarc, Mid Rim systems;
High Republic Space.
Tag: Darth Virelia | Kaila Irons | Valaine Valentine | Lyssa Cluada | Darth Kharnaz

The hologram, situated in the corner of Virelia's sermon- as she consolidated those that had been found from the hallowed halls of the Sith Order into the Dark Court- flickered subtly as the connection between Coruscant and Enarc had been tethered together to bring these Sith onto the fine line of catastrophe, or ruination, for the woman on the other side had been behind the things that were fated to bring their people to one end or the other.

Bastion, the Sartinaynian Crisis.

The fall of the Empire of the Lost.

Brosi, an invasion of the Thandon Star Cluster.

What was next in line for this conspiracy?

"I was told a tale," Her said with a voice warped by the power of the dark side. "It was about showing others who they truly were and about what institutions really are about. Now you see what the Sith Order really is. How can you continue to serve an institution which claims strength leads to power, and yet protects the weak? Enlightenment is yours to be had, Virelia, and for the rest of you as well. Through passion I gain strength..."

The hologram flickered again and revealed the emblem of VesperWorks. As the undercover Dark Lord's words hung in the air she took the focus of the court and moved to bend it to her machinations.

"Eons ago the promise was written by Sorzus Syn detailing the coming of a state which would rule the known cosmos. In the several millennia since the Sith have traversed the galaxy as warriors, conquerors or destroyers which wrought the Star Wars, and the dark side teaches all of us of absolution. From the Legions of Lettow to the mighty legions of today are we any closer to being absolved? Doesn't victory still elude us?"

For centuries the Sith have invaded, conquered, and destroyed many.

But it always ends the same, and it will be that way for those from Jutrand too.

"They call it the Eleventh Sith Empire. Eleven. Basked in histrionics, and tyranny, and... deception."

As the Vesper emblem hung in the air, Her fell silent again to let it sink in. The deception, and lies brought forth by promises of grandeur, and reminders of history, and of lineage, as the Sith remembered, toiled much, and still the Jedi stood. Some would call it failure, but Her knew better. To fail and live was to learn, adapt and change. Those who rule the Sith Empire did not fail, they did not learn, adapt or change.

They were stagnant.

Deceptive, and malicious.

The Sith were new once upon a time, but time has eroded them. Could this Dark Court replace them?

"There is something happening out there in the Outer Rim systems. You cannot exactly put your finger onto it. It is elusive, transcendent, enigmatic. But you know, in your heart, that nothing feels right out there. Cast aside your militaristic ambitions, and strip yourselves down into your most diluted form. Swap your armours for cloaks, and your weapons for the subtler arts of the dark side. Grow Vesper. With my guidance we could accomplish much together..."

---

 

[Viscountess Pandora]

"Perfection Demands Submission"

Tags - Darth Virelia

Pandora had unfortunately arrived late to this meeting. Granted she had good reason for this. Upon hearing her Mistress's banishment, Pandora had went into hiding a bit, to avoid herself being a casualty. But she had been scouting out worlds to continue the work her Mistress wished to do within the Sith Order. That was until she received a message to meet in the underbelly of Coruscant, from Virelia. Pandora now stood outside of the meeting room, before letting herself inside. She didn't say much, but looked to the other Sith present for this meeting. None of them she knew, but presumably all of them were associates of the Mistress.

Her HUD flared to life trying to identify the people in the room. Analyzing everything about them as she could. Only for her to turn to Virelia and the code in her helm, turning purple. Messages being displayed only for her to see.

"Allies, not enemies."

"You're late."

"Take your place, my morsel."

"Feel safe once more."

Pandora then silently walked to Virelia, before then placing herself onto the floor, next to Virelia's seat. Much like if she was meditating, Pandora sat on her knees, tilting her head forward, looking down into the floor. The red hues along her cybernetics, simply began to flash between red and purple, before firmly solidfying into red for the time being. But Pandora was here and ready to serve.

 

[Valaine Valentine]

Tags - Darth Virelia Her Kaila Irons Lyssa Cluada Darth Kharnaz Viscountess Pandora

Valaine's tired gaze shifted towards Kaila who appeared to give her a light nod. The Sangnir's eyes widened slightly, did this stranger know who she was? Was she warning her for the sounds she'd made with her chair? Her gaze returned to the table with concern for her safety, she had no doubt slighted that imposing figure that sat besides Virelia. Even with the voice modulator she couldn't recognize that it was Kaila.

A second glance towards the other end of the table noted the presence of Lyssa, who also had taken a seat besides their Mistress. She had thought that both these people must be exceptional in rank and power if both of them sat besides Virelia, acting as a right and left hand respectively.

Then there was the holographically transmitted figure in the corner. Valaine's gaze narrowed slightly as she tried to focus on Her details, but she couldn't quite make out any features at all on the figure from where she was. They must be a rather busy individual if they couldn't arrive personally so no doubt they too were just as powerful as the others present.

Finally she heard Virelia speak out, asking for the wants and desires of others. The young Sangnir dipped her head in thought, what did she want? Maybe her own ship? That would be a grand prize to be sure-

"Immortality."

She almost choked on her thoughts as her eyes widened slightly. They could ask for things like that? She glanced around awkwardly. If they could ask for things like immortality then there seemed to her that there was no limit at all on what she could wish for... Her thoughts started to spin again, maybe a whole planet? No, an entire system? A sector of the Galaxy?

Valaine lifted her head up, looking towards Virelia as she opened her mouth to speak. "I-"

With a grunt of rage he summoned the force to him, releasing it on the door. With a terrific crash it was torn off its hinges, flying across the room. He stooped down to enter through the too small doorway.

The sudden destruction, and air time, of the door forced something of a shriek of surprise from Valaine as she was half ducked under the table. They had come, whoever were the enemies of this newly founded Dark Court had arrived, and no doubt they would-... She paused to notice the figure standing in the door did not appear to be hostile.

Hesitantly and awkwardly she climbed back into her seat and tried to compose herself, just in time for her to watch Pandora enter and promptly sit on the floor besides Virelia, hiding her from Valaine's view who sat at the opposite end of the table.

She had lost her train of thought...

 

[Delsin Shaw]

Those that gathered were meager in aptitude. Few who where here could actually obtain what Virelia proclaimed. All of their words being spoken. Their voices becoming louder to speak of such things. Defiant against the Emperyn Emperor of the Sith Order. Others hid in robes and masks. Armor that protected them from sight of others. Hiding in the dark like scared children. Of course the person of Her would proclaim to aid them in such things. As it was with all Sith who took the title of Darth in some form. Folded arms across my body. Sighing as the doors to the side of me exploded in a rage. felt before it happened. As the doors flew across the room, they landed. Sliding to a stop.

A heavy roll of the eyes. An Acolyte who thought himself superior. That Anger was the only application in which to use the force. A hand raised. Easily the doors moved and lifted. Slowly filtering their way around those who had gathered to be placed back upon the door frames. Held back into place as if it had not happened to begin with. Even their words of Immortality and power to kill, was wasted. All things others had sought before. Simple minded and aspirations of grandeur.

"Acolytes are all rage now."

Voice soft but deep as I removed myself from the side. Walking forward but not standing with the others. Hands folding behind my back to look at the wrathful apprentice.

"It seems, Darth Virelia, you should teach your pets better manners."

Cat-like irises peering over to the accentuate who in particular needed such a lesson. However, the attention moved back to the group as a whole. Breathing in deeply before sighing.

"Questions of desires and how they are fulfilled are not what this Court of Darkness need. Respectfully, You should be working to use forces of discovery to seek how one small group such as this could ever topple the Order, or Empires that have come before."

I moved closer to the group. Moving around them to study each person. Some I had heard of, but the Acolytes I had not seen before. All moving to their knees it seemed to create some kind of pact to this court. Of which they were young enough, to not truly understand what such consequences would be. They lacked knowledge, and it was not being given to them of how serious this venture would be.

"Empires and Orders fall from their own ambition. Their own lust and craving for power. Consuming everything. Only until they consumed enough where they become bloated. Fat with no further ability to continue. They stagnate then perish."

A shake of the head.

"Immortality, and power are easy. They come with very little of a price. What are you willing to do to topple others to reach what you really, truly want?"

| Valaine Valentine | Viscountess Pandora | Her | Darth Kharnaz | Kaila Irons | Darth Virelia | Lyssa Cluada | ​

 

[Darth Virelia]

"Starting the plague."

Tags - Lyssa Cluada , Her , Kaila Irons , Valaine Valentine , Viscountess Pandora , Delsin Shaw , Darth Kharnaz

The magenta halo above thrummed faintly, like a heart quickening in anticipation. Darth Virelia reclined in her throne-chair, claws flexing against the obsidian glass table with a deliberate grace. She had not moved when Kharnaz tore the doors from their frame; she had not flinched when Valaine squealed and ducked beneath the table like a frightened child; she had not shifted when Pandora slunk to her knees at her side as though she had never left her embrace.

She had not moved—because all of it had unfolded exactly as she desired.

When she finally rose, Tyrant's Embrace sang. The plates whispered together like the sigh of serpents. Her cape, blood-dyed and violet-threaded, cascaded outward in a slow ripple, trailing crimson shadows across the floor. She prowled along the curve of the table, her six eyes burning in rhythmic pulses.

"You see?" she said softly, the silken drawl cutting through the chamber as though it belonged there more than silence ever had. "Already, our Court has teeth. Already it brims with hunger and defiance. Already… I am entertained."

She stopped behind Anathemous, her violet glow draping across the Lord of Blades, a claiming glare. Her taloned fingertips grazed the edge of the woman's pauldron—not a claim, but an intimate acknowledgment.

"Darth Anathemous," she murmured, low enough for only a few to hear. "You wanted order amidst the chaos. And I will give you something greater than order. I will give you a world that bends itself around you until you never again know the word uncertainty, until never again can anything but we decide your fate. You desire immortality? Then stand at my side, and we will be remembered as long as there are stars left to look upon us."

Her touch lingered before she glided on, her cape whispering against Pandora's bowed shoulders. She paused, glancing down at the girl who had thrown herself to her knees, her cybernetics flickering between violet and red.

"Morsel," Virelia cooed, the indulgent licentiousness of her tone unmistakable. "So faithful, even in lateness. You have played your part well." She leaned, insect-eyes burning downward. "I see you, your beauty, your vision. You are an intellect the galaxy has denied for too long." Her talon traced through Pandora's hair like a comb of steel. "Be still at my feet. Watch. Learn. Soon, you will build in my name."

Her six eyes turned next to Lyssa, whose stillness was a vow in itself. She brushed a gauntleted hand across her apprentice's shoulder, a slow, claiming weight.

"And you, my Mirialan star… my blade that never dulls. I know you do not speak your desire, because you think it unworthy of words. But I see it, Lyssa. You want the galaxy to call me Queen. To see my will laid bare, so you may be the hand that enforces my reign. You will have it. In this Court, your silence will speak louder than armies."

She moved on, to Kharnaz—massive, volatile, raw. She did not scold him for the doors, nor belittle his late arrival. Instead, she inclined her mask in a gesture almost resembling respect.

"Kharnaz," she said, voice deeper now, reverent in its darkness. "The blade that tears the battlefield in two. Your desire for knowledge is not weakness—it is hunger, and hunger is holy. You will kill with blade, with lightning, with hatred made flesh. You will feast on powers the Order hoarded for itself. And I will feed you until even death itself trembles when you draw near."

She drifted to where the hologram shimmered—the Dark Lord known only as Her. The presence within the cackling light felt immense, elusive, enigmatic. Virelia faced it without lowering her head, her six eyes blazing bright as violet suns.

"Yes," she said, her voice carrying through the chamber like velvet dragged across steel. "You see the rot as I do. You know what the Eleventh Empire is—bloated, stagnant, poisoned by its own deception. We align in this, you and I. And we will walk this path together, twining shadow into shadow until no one knows where I end and you begin. I will grow Vesper. I will take your guidance, and make it flesh."

She turned slowly, her cape brushing against the floor, her gaze falling upon Valaine.

"And you…" Her voice softened, cruelly kind. "My child. You hide your face, you make noise with your chair, you think yourself unworthy even to speak among wolves. And yet—" she leaned closer, mask reflecting Valaine's wide, tired eyes—"you came. That is enough. I will help you, and remake you, until your weak presence in the Force burns like a sun. I will give you power that terrifies you. And you will thank me for every scar."

Finally, she turned to Delsin—who to the others was the stranger who had dared chastise the Court. To Virelia, it was the genius of a man not to be trifled with.

"You speak truth, Delsin. Empires grow fat, and then they rot. Acolytes rage and flail, and think themselves storms. But storms pass, and rot spreads. We are not storms. We are a plague. We are corruption." She leaned against the table, talons drumming once against the glass. "And corruption is eternal. Corruption adapts. Corruption does not fall when empires burn. It endures. You ask what we are willing to do? I answer: everything."

Her six eyes swept the table once more, burning into each soul gathered.

"You all desire different things—immortality, knowledge, vengeance, safety, order. I promise you all of them. Not as gifts. Not as alms. But as rewards. If you serve this Court—if you serve me—you will have more than you ever dared whisper in your sleep."

She straightened, armor alive with violet light, her voice dropping to a near-whisper that filled every ear.

"Anathemous, Pandora, Lyssa—my loves, my weapons, my hands. Kharnaz, my axe. Delsin, my whetstone. Valaine, my project. Her, my shadow. Together, we are the Dark Court. And soon, the galaxy will not merely kneel—they will kneel thinking it was their choice. They will kneel believing we saved them. They will kneel until their bones break beneath the weight of their surrender."

The magenta halo above pulsed once, washing the room in decadent violet.

"And now," she said, the final note rich with promise, "we go to Malachor."

She leaned forward, talons resting on the table, mask gleaming with all six eyes.

"There, among the bones of the past, we will plant our throne. And from there, my darlings, we will spread our corruption until the galaxy itself is nothing but our grand design."

Her voice curled into a purr.

"Everything… will be ours."

 

[Kaila Irons]

Wearing: Armor + Robes
Tag: Darth Virelia Valaine Valentine Her Viscountess Pandora Delsin Shaw Darth Kharnaz

She saw it before it happened.

Valaine ducking for cover, the doors sent flying. Enhanced precognition told her that no one would be hurt a just as the hinges hinges broke, and so she did nothing to stop it. A sharp turn of her head, fingers flexed, ready to summon her blade, that was all.

"Hrmh..." she'd grunt.

Darth Kharnaz could make an entrance, she'd give him that, but it didn't scream "secret organization material" to her.

"Acolytes are all rage now."

She gave the ashen haired man a glance.

He was right of course, but Anathemous wondered what made him so comfortable speaking this way. He looked no older than she, meaning he was either very arrogant or found a way to become very powerful before his peers.

Like herself.

She was very interested to see which he was.

A shake of the head.

"Immortality, and power are easy. They come with very little of a price. What are you willing to do to topple others to reach what you really, truly want?"

"My ambitions are mine to keep." she replied.

The "Great Work" was hers alone, not even Virelia knew exactly what Anathemous wanted for this galaxy.

"Immortality is but a stepping stone."

"...I plan to start small..."

Her seemed to have similar ideas; offering herself up as the voice of reason. Anathemous may have listened, if she did not whisper promises of yet another organization, present herself like some sort of savior. She'd had enough "saving" for one lifetime.

"Are we joining one court or two?" she muttered.

It was not until Darth Virelia spoke in one of her patented speeches that Anathemous derived some clarity from the conversation. It... made her realize she'd underestimated her for so long. Leading a court of vipers was no easy task, but when she spoke, all listened.

Gloved fingers threaded behind her back as though she were a soldier again, briefing.

Claws were welcomed to her pauldron, acknowledged by the subtlest shift in posture towards her.

"Darth Anathemous,"

And then she froze.

That name voiced in these chambers were enough for the Emperor to declare her a traitor, if word left this hall. She'd hoped the nature of this meeting would be more clandestine, perhaps a bit of faded paranoia bubbling to the surface. But Virelia always had a way of forcing her into the open.

She listened carefully as each voice of the court were laid bare, their intent, their identity.

Virelia forced them all to become familiar, see one another as human behind the mask, as... comrades.

It was clever...

"Anathemous, Pandora, Lyssa—my loves, my weapons, my hands.

Loves? she turned fully towards her now, heat rising beneath that helm.

That was not a word she'd expected to hear.

Ever again.

​