Dominion Sport of Blood | SO Dominion of Empty Hex

[Gerwald Lechner]

WEARING: This
WEAPONS: Ferrum Solus | Blodmåne | Strømafbryder
SHIP: Vigfjall
TAG: Helix | Quinn Varanin | Mercy | Revna Marr

War had a way of consuming every hour afforded to those tasked with waging it.

For weeks the Dread Wolf had been little more than a shadow moving from one command chamber to the next. Fleet manifests had replaced sleep. Supply reports had become his evening reading. The training yards of Jutrand, the foundries producing weapons for the coming campaign, and the endless meetings of the Dark Council had demanded his attention in equal measure. Every decision carried weight now. Every transport assigned, every commander elevated, every world strengthened or left vulnerable would echo once the Sith Order crossed blades with the High Republic in earnest.

The arena had almost slipped from his thoughts.

Almost.

Gerwald had always believed there was value in watching warriors before entrusting them with war. Battlefields forged legends, but arenas stripped away excuses. There were no armies to hide behind, no logistics to blame, and no subordinate to shoulder failure. Only instinct, discipline, and resolve remained once the gates closed.

Those qualities interested the Dread Wolf far more than spectacle ever could.

The doors to the observatory opened without herald or announcement. Conversation softened of its own accord as the towering Dark Councilor entered, his presence drawing attention without demanding it. Gerwald acknowledged no one immediately. His eyes were already upon the arena below where crimson, orange, and violet blades painted violent arcs across the dust while the crowd answered each exchange with thunderous approval.

He recognized each combatant in only a few heartbeats.

Lirka Ka .

Darth Strosius .

Varin Mortifer

Then his attention settled upon the youngest among them.

Aerik Lechner .

There was no flicker of pride upon Gerwald's face. Whatever existed between father and son remained separate from what unfolded below. The apprentice had earned his place in the arena beneath Darth Prazutis' tutelage, not because of the blood that flowed through his veins. Today would either validate that belief or expose shortcomings that still demanded correction.

Satisfied he had not arrived too late, Gerwald made his way toward the seats overlooking the contest. Only when he reached the empty chair beside Revna did he finally turn his attention from the arena long enough to acknowledge the Queen of Korriban with a respectful inclination of his head before lowering himself into the seat. An attendant silently offered a glass, which Gerwald accepted without ceremony.

"I'll back Quinn's wager."

His voice carried the calm certainty of a man accustomed to making decisions that committed lives rather than credits. There was no flourish, no attempt to sway those gathered. Quinn had placed her confidence in the apprentice. The Dread Wolf merely affirmed it.

His golden eyes returned to the arena.

Aerik slipped into an opening as Strosius committed elsewhere.

A faint nod.

"He committed when your master did," Gerwald observed quietly to Revna. "Good. Hesitation would have squandered the opportunity."

He took a measured sip before resting the glass against the arm of his chair.

"The opening is earned. The victory still has to be."

With that, the Dread Wolf settled comfortably into his seat, content to watch warriors reveal who among them deserved to help shape the war that waited just beyond the horizon.

 

[Eira Dyn]

Objective: 2 - Observing the betting
Outfit: Apprentice Attire
Equipment: Lethal Pursuers
Tag: Quinn Varanin | Helix | Mercy | Revna Marr | Gerwald Lechner

Eira was silent in the observation room. A part of her knew that she should be in the arena fighting, demonstrating her skills. Proving her place as Quinn's apprentice. But after Humbarine, she had not been the same, the fire that burned within Eira had diminished and she was struggling to find her place. Failure had littered Eira's past. All she had succeeded in doing was surviving, she survived longer than some other acolytes that started in the Jutrand academy. There was the luck element of being taken on by Quinn as well, though she had noticed that there were massive changes happening within her Master that Eira had missed. While Quinn always had impeccable fashion and style, the look that she was wearing today, the way that she carried herself and even the presence that she allowed others to feel. It was different to before.

There felt a gap, a feeling of being out of touch with the ongoing things in Quinn's life. Eira felt this even more when discussions were turned on betting and selecting candidates to support.

Looking at the arena, seeing who was there, Eira's assumption had been with Strosius, he was a Sith Lord. He was already versed in combat and while Lirka was certainly formidable, the Force Dead Kainite always had an air of being someone who could be goaded into error if triggered correctly. However, Quinn voiced her support for Aerik, a young Sith. One that Eira recognised as someone who joined the Jutrand academy at the same time she did. Her gaze turned to Quinn, surprised etched on her face. Was there something that Eira missed? Eira was sure that if she was in that arena, her own chances to succeed were practically zero. While she had many skills now, none were refined enough to take on the likes of Lirka and Strosius. And that was only two of the many Sith in the arena, where more were entering.

She swallowed hard, perhaps that was demonstrating something that Eira already felt. Something that she had not truly confided in someone yet. Not even CT-312 who was the closest person to a best friend that Eira had. Hearing someone else support Quinn's bet, Eira took another look at the arena, perhaps this was why she failed. There was no legacy of her power, she was a farmer's daughter from a backwater world. There was not generations of power distilled into Eira, no great Sith names that she carried nor did she have access to training and observing greatness while she was growing up. Eira had already been 18 when she left Dantooine, seeing the Sith around her. The Sith discussing this fight. It just kept reminding Eira of the struggles she endured.

Eira failed to kill that damn Mandalorian. A feat that no Sith should struggle at. A feat that Quinn would never fail at. A feat that she fully believed CT-312 would be able to achieve and that was someone who didn't use the Force in her fighting style. Eira couldn't harness this power that was in her properly and truly felt concerned that she was the biggest liability in Quinn's pursuit for power. If Eira was this big failure of an apprentice, then how could Quinn ever be taken seriously. Perhaps she should disappear, pull away to ensure that her Master achieves the goals that they both wanted Quinn to achieve.

Her thumb traced over the top of the hilt on one of her daggers. Thoughts and self-hatred burning in her mind as she just stood silently in the shadows of the room, observing the fight.

 

[Revna Marr]

Direct Tag: Gerwald Lechner ​

Movement out of the peripheral of Revna’s vision brought her focus briefly from the arena to those who were around her. Someone else had arrived, almost as fashionably late as she had. Gerwald Lechner’s presence was both larger than life, and quiet compared to others. He was a force to be reckoned with, a man who had earned his place and position in power many times over. But he did not flaunt such things; there was no herald with his coming, and he didn’t need one.

To the little Marr’s surprise, however, Lechner chose a seat beside her own, instead of seating himself with other compatriots or in his own space. She did not read too much into it, though a part of her did wonder if Gerwald chose this seat for a reason. He was not a man to squander opportunity if he felt he saw one, but she would wait for him to reveal his hand before making any further assumptions.

Like her, and everyone else, Gerwald turned his gaze to the arena below, and the fighters within. He voiced his backing of Quinn’s wager of Aerik, and Revna held her comments to herself for the time being. She watched as Gerwald’s son moved in on an opening left by her former master, taking advantage of an opportunity presented to him.

Varin was there to interject himself into the chaos, his blade coming to life to deny the attack of the younger Lechner against Darth Strosius. It had been some time since Gerwald had last seen or interacted with her Apprentice; the last time had been when Varin was learning more about himself, and the beast that lived within him. Much had happened since then, and Varin was not the same young man that Gerwald had last seen.

…though Revna did wonder just how much of his control he would maintain over Ignati as the battle in the arena continued.

She continued to watch the fight unfold in silence, her eyes taking in every shift, every flash of the blades below. After a long moment, she took another sip of the emerald hued wine and cast a sideways glance at Gerwald. When she spoke, her voice was low, soft - meant for the Councilor’s ears alone.

“I suppose we shall see what proves out in the end - youthful energy or experience honed by years of combat. Though both have the capacity for mistakes to be made that could cost either side dearly.” There was another small pause, a quiet exhale of breath.

“But if I had to put my wager on anyone…it would be for Varin. Not because he is my Apprentice…but because I know that young man too well. He will stop at nothing to get what he wants, and he wants to prove himself to be a conqueror - a Warlord. And nothing, not even his bonds to allies or family, will get in the way of the power and dominion he seeks after.”

Revna took another, heartier sip, of her wine before she turned her ember gaze directly towards Gerwald and away from the fight in the arena below.

“Does it surprise you, Gerwald, that I am not here to support my own Master's endeavors in this little competition?”
​

 

[Mercy]

MERCY

EMPRESS | WARLORD | STAR-ARM

Location: Observatory | Objective: 2 - Glass Houses | Direct Tags: Helix Quinn Varanin Gerwald Lechner Revna Marr Nerralyn Raaf
Other Tags: Lirka Ka Darth Strosius | Eira Dyn​

.

The tale from Helix was interesting to say the least. All of it new, none of it surprising. She had clocked Darth Strosius for what he was from the moment they had met. The difference between the droid and herself, however, was that Mercy wasn't concerned about the eventual betrayal. There would come a time that the mad dog would try and sink its teeth into her neck again.

That was the way it was between Sith, not something to worry about.

"Interesting." He replied after a few seconds. "And if Strosius should prove the stronger?"

"You tell me, my synthoid friend." Mercy drawled without concern. "What can you offer me in equal value?"

When Quinn pitched in Mercy's head tilted lightly, until their eyes met.

The Black Sun Trade.

Mercy wondered if that was a little prod directed towards her. As if to remind her that before Mercy had crowned herself Empress by virtue of murder and mayhem, she had been a nuke-shaped Vigo of the Black Sun. Nothing that the Sith Lord was ashamed about, she had enjoyed her time with the Black Sun. No honor guard, no palaces. Just dirt under finger nails, burning buildings and territory that changed hands as easily as finger painting done with blood.

A different time, a simpler one, that sometimes Mercy found herself missing.

"You are on, Princess. It's been too long since I won a betting game from you." Mercy agreed with a smirk as their gaze held. Then her attention shifted to the others in the room. Gerward concurred with Quinn, Revna betted on her own apprentice, which earned a chuckle from Mercy. Her apprentice over her own father. Revna would know where the chuckle came from even if nobody else did.

Mercy didn't elaborate, because she wasn't entirely sure how many here in the room knew of their familial relationship.

If she was needed, she would respond, but for now... she was heavily debating if she should take the Domino in her opening pack to start off in White or the Mauve to try and go Blue/Black.

"How about you, Raaf? Any of the fighters catch your fancy?" Mercy asked before drawing her cigarette back between her teeth for a drag. It would be the joy of joys for her, if she turned this glass box into a gambling den before long.

.

ERASE THE PAST

 

[Sybil ragnos]

Tag: Lirka Ka Darth Strosius Aerik Lechner

Wearing/look: xx gear: generic lightsaber and knives

Sybil didnt expect lirka to slam into her knocking the wind out of her but do to dark rage the pain was dulled enough. That she didn't feel the full effect of the metal woman slamming into her sybil barely dodged the machete which cut her red muscular arm which began to bleed but was still useful as she used the force to slam into lirka to try and put some distance between them.

The sith pureblood breathes raggedy through her damaged chest as she drains using drain essence a charging sith of little note to her. As the cut on her arm scabs over as she charges towards lirka dark rage still going. As she makes several stab and thrust attempts toward lirka.

 

[Kaelen Voss]

OBJECTIVE LEADERS OF THE PACK
Tag: Lirka Ka Sybil ragnos
​

The gates of Jutrand's arena groaned open.

Heat rolled through the tunnel, carrying with it the scent of scorched sand, blood, and ozone. Above, tens of thousands of voices crashed together into a deafening roar, celebrating the eve of a war that would soon engulf the Republic.
Kaelen Voss stepped through without hesitation.

Black armor caught the light of the arena polished black plates layered over a lean but athletic frame. Crimson gems were set throughout the chestplate and belt, each glowing faintly as though drawing breath alongside their wearer. A heavy crimson cloak billowed behind him, dragging across the sand before the arena winds caught it,

White hair framed a youthful face that contrasted sharply with the crimson glow of his eyes.
He looked more like a Sith Lord than an apprentice. but it is only the best for the acadamy

His expression betrayed none of the anticipation that churned through the Force around him.
Only quiet confidence.
The battlefield was already descending into anarchy.

A Dark Councillor traded blows with an ancient Pureblood. Darth Strosius found himself beset on multiple fronts while ambitious apprentices circled like starving predators, each hoping to earn glory from another's distraction. Elsewhere, dozens more duels erupted across the arena, crimson blades painting arcs of fire through the dust.
Kaelen watched.

The lessons of Jutrand Academy echoed through his thoughts.
A Sith who fights with emotion becomes a weapon.
A Sith who fights with purpose becomes the hand that wields it.

He had not made his way to Eleventh Rank just to die here.

His crimson gaze drifted over every engagement, Watching as the others fought
The Force pulsed around the arena
Hatred and fear mixed with Ambition.

The arena itself had become a wound in the Force, every emotion feeding the darkness,

His gauntleted hand settled upon the hilt at his side.,

A crimson blade burst into existence.
The red light reflected from the black phrik plates of his armor,

Kaelen intended to leave remembered.

As soon as his saber ignited he moved
Instead of throwing himself into the clash between a Darth and Aerik Lechner , His crimson eyes settled upon Lirka Ka and Sybil ragnos
Watching them as they fought, Sybil the sith pureblood with a cut on her arm as she went and attacked lirka,

Now is his chance, While the Pureblood committed to a series of attacks against Lirka, Kaelen decided to wait and for Lirka to commit to a defense, if she did, he would attack her with a swipe from his lightsaber.

 

[Helix]

Tags: Mercy / Nerralyn Raaf / Quinn Varanin / Gerwald Lechner / Revna Marr ​

Helix noted the quiet presence of the younger Raaf nearby without having to look. While he could extrude light-receptive sensors from any portion of his form, he'd always found sound more useful. Most humanoid life was visually-focused by nature, enough so that being blinded was a serious disability. Not so for Helix, who had a thousand ways to attend his surroundings.

He could hear the scratch of a fingernail on an armrest twelve seats down. Its owner's pulse was quick, panicked. A friend or relative in the pit, perhaps? Or maybe they were simply about to lose a bet. Ten seats back, eight to the left. Its owner's stomach growled like a caged gundark. Perhaps the wine wasn't agreeing with them.

A faint skitter betrayed a millimeter-wide insect scurrying across the reinforced glass of the box. These and other things announced themselves in his consciousness. Logged, categorized, remembered.

He pondered what exactly he could offer that would be of equivalent value. He wasn't one to hold solid assets for long, and was certainly loath to risk much that he had. All he had to offer were weapons, weapons, and more weapons. Little of it was worth a space station in terms of sheer credit weight. What did he have that wasn't acquirable anywhere else?

"Tarnicite crystal." The colony lifted one hand palm-up, projecting a holographic image of an alien-looking mineral. "Found on only one planet, incredibly restricted, incredibly lethal. A single uncontrolled sample can eradicate a city. There are worse fates, but not many. One ship's worth, stacked to the rafters, and no questions asked."

Helix was fond of Lirka, or as fond as a creature like himself could be, but was under no illusions about such concepts as loyalty. Should Alisteri claim the Once-Sephi's head, then the colony-being was next in line for command of the Third Legion. Whether he took control in succession, or the state had a fit of madness and awarded it to Alisteri by right of the kill, the result would be much the same.

The only difference was whether he'd have to make one more, long-overdue kill himself.

A few others drifted in, placing bets of their own. He recognized the princess and the Empress' hound by sight, but only by sight. Still, the princess' wager was also a tempting one. Strengthening his influence with the galaxy's human detritus would be a useful safety net if his plans should fail, and all he had painstakingly built was undone. One could never have too many places to hide in.

Then there was Revna, the only one who brought a tiny atom of concern to his black heart. He could feel the apprentice staring daggers at the back of his head. All the physiological hallmarks of murderous rage registered in his senses. Well, more than the usual, passive amount of murderous rage that was normal for the Sith, at any rate.

A shame, but as he'd explained to Mercy, that was the way of things. Eat first, or be eaten last. That's why he was here in the box, and not down there engaging in a meaningless squabble. His brand of violence, on the rare occasions it manifested, was precise, controlled, and unstoppable, but always and only for his own good.

"Well, seems you've started a regular gambling ring. Hopefully I won't be losing today, but what's life without a little risk. Worst comes to worst, a few new spots for promotion open up. Best of luck to us all."

 

[Lirka Ka]

LEADERS OF THE PACK
TAGS Sybil ragnos Kaelen Voss

Pandemonium was practice. The enemy would not give them grace when war was alight, so they would thrash and flail at each other in the same murderous abandon till such energies could be turned to the Republic dogs.

And as of now, Lirka was pleasantly chuffed with what she saw in the arena.

New faces to brawl, new variables to test. Weapons that would be wielded in the days to come, and a chance to weed the worthy from the weak. All-in-all, it was gearing up to be a good day.

Grinning wide beneath her marred helm as she witnessed the blood spilt from Sybil ragnos - Lirka was a ravenous beast when blood was in the water. Of course, in her narcissism never-ending, it provided a quaint opportunity to remind these people the sort of carefully crafted abomination that was their Councillor.

Contorting and twisting, Lirka embraced the stab from the Ragnos - letting the crimson blade find purchase within one of the gaps within her layered plates. A devastating blow to a normal - but Lirka was anything but. Once the weapon piercing the undersuit beneath, the horrid stench of sizzling chemical rot permeated the air. The faint seeping of viscous abyssal blackness from the wound that rapidly congealed. A clawed hand lashed out to grasp the pureblood’s blade-arm and pull the weapon deeper into her foulness.

A low rumbling laugh coming from her vocalizer. Everything wounded could be mended. Using her own body as a pincushion to keep the Pureblood close. Continuing her brutish savagery as her helm came down in a quick headbutt.

Ears bristling with the approach of Kaelen Voss in the sand - Lirka’s slow rumble evolved to a mad rancor with a laugh almost meant to torment the poor ears of Darth Strosius - ever the disgrace to the natural ways of the Sith. Lirka defended against the sudden blow in the only way she could think to, channeling all of her own mechanized strength and swing the Sith piercing her body to meet the Acolyte’s blade as a meaty shield.

​

​

 

[Kaelen Voss]

OBJECTIVE LEADERS OF THE PACK
Tag: Lirka Ka Sybil ragnos
​

Kaelen's crimson blade never found the opening he had sought.

The instant his strike descended, Lirka moved.
Not with the refined grace of a duelist, but with the monstrous movement of a predator. The armored thing dragged the pureblood into the path of the attack, treating her as little more than just an item to be used

Now that he can respect.

The moment his strike threatened to hit into the pureblood instead of its intended target, Kaelen twisted his wrists, angling the blade away. The crimson blade hissed past Sybil's side close enough for its heat to wash over her, muscles tightening beneath black armor as his gauntlet clamped around Sybil, Kaelen planted his rear foot deep into the sand, twisting his hips and shoulders together as he put the full weight of his body behind the motion.
The Force surged through his body, With a violent yank, he would rip the Pureblood out of Lirka's grasp, seeking to wrench her free from her grip, Sand pushed out beneath his boots as he pulled with every ounce of strength the dark side would grant him, while his crimson eyes locked on Lirka's visor.

"Lets see how good you are when youre not hiding behind someone" he said as his lightsaber flickered along with his eyes.

 

[Sybil ragnos]

Obj:2

Tag: Lirka Ka Kaelen Voss

Wearing/look: xx gear: generic lightsaber and knives

sybil was shocked that her stab through the councilors body did nothing as lirka grabbed her wrist and headbutted her which connected causing blood to leak from the impact point. And put sybil into a daze as she was used as a bludgeon against kaelen who with sybil using the force to blast lirkas hand free from her arm as pain shot through her body. As kaelen threw her out of the way sybil landed on her side and rolled a couple of feet in a daze as she laid there. Not entirely helpless but definitely out of the fight for a few moments.

 

[Darth Strosius]

Equipment: Lightsaber - Sword - Dagger - Robes
Tags: Lirka Ka / Aerik Lechner / Sybil ragnos / Aileni Ifor Xeraic / Varin Mortifer / Kaelen Voss
--------------------------------------------

Even once one of His weapons had been freed from the whip's lashing grasp He wasn't able to pivot back to face the Kainite hound like He had intended, for the interloper seemed incredibly undeterred. Perhaps that was due to the lightning missing its mark and thus giving the younger warrior some sense of safety or perhaps he was simply too bold for his own good, a prospect that was seeming all the more likely given how he continued his assault with an attempt to quite literally disarm Him.

Darth Strosius had just enough time to reorient Himself to meet the incoming slash head on as otherwise He'd have to step back or even duck and thus wind up in a far less than ideal position, however another blade intercepted the orange lightsaber long before either of His met it. A glance to the side was followed by a slight wince at the sight of the young Varin, a simple instinctual reaction to the flame that the Sith Apprentice wielded more so than anything else.

Another glance was cast back over His shoulder at His target only to see, and unfortunately hear the sadistic delight of, Lirka embroiled with two opponents already. As much as He'd have liked to strike and end His foe right then and there while she was occupied, turning His back to the young warrior before Him had already proved to be a dangerous propspect. Besides, the longer that the other two tired her out the easier she would be to end.

If they didn't manage to do so themselves of course. He doubted that He would be that lucky though.

Before He could move against the Dark Councilor again He'd need to ensure that there wouldn't be a blade in His back and thus He cast a glance to His daughter's apprentice. "We kill the armored one next." With that Darth Strosius moved around where their blades were clashed, eager to put as much distance between Himself and the flames as He could, whilst bringing both His lightsaber and His sword to cut down the side and into the leg of the interloper as He passed.

 

[CT-312]

//: Quinn Varanin Eira Dyn Darth Wallgof //:
//: Nearby: Helix Mercy Revna Marr Gerwald Lechner //:
//: Attire //:
//: Arena, Jutrand //:
//: OBJ II - Glass Houses//:

While the Sith and their entourages gathered around, CT-312 stood beside Eira and a step behind the Princess. She was in the same watchful position since entering the viewing box. Her visor was directed towards the arena below. Overlaying on her HUD, BARCA identified the combatants as they entered the pit. Each recognition appeared as a bracket around the distant figure, next to it was an expanded magnified image with an abbreviated profile.

Darth Strosius and Lirka Ka , those were the two names at first that drew the most interest within the spectator box. Then another combatant entered, along with the attention of the room shifted on him.

Puppy

CT-312’s brow rose behind the visor as the word came from Quinn. The Princess had placed her confidence in Aerik Lechner without hesitation, though she did not understand what prompted the sudden choice. CT-312 noticed when the Princess’s hand reached back. Her gloved hand slipped into a secured pouch, retrieving the compact holoprojector, placing it into the waiting palm before returning her attention to the fighting below.

More contestants emerged from the arena’s internal passages, each arrival was greeted by another swell of noise through the stands. Watching the contestants gather and the thunderous cheers reminded CT-312 of another arena. She found herself wondering where the Princess’s confidence had been placed during the time of the Kaggath Tournament.

A succession of electronic chimes sounded inside her helmet. “No.” CT-312 answered quietly within the confines of her helmet. “This is different.” Another questioning tone followed “But if feels the same, doesn’t it?” BARCA offered a softer series of beeps in response. Had it not been for that tournament, BARCA would have never been installed within her armor. Its presence was an adjustment to the secluded Trooper at first, but now it was welcomed. Even though something about BARCA felt differently lately. Changes had entered the system gradually enough that CT-312 could not identify when it had begun.

BARCA wasn’t the only thing that felt different.

From the moment they entered the spectator box, every instinct and awareness was on alert beneath the armor she wore. There was nothing obvious threatening Quinn, yet she could feel the invisible pressure. It wasn’t like the bond, where CT-312 had felt it flare up for a moment ago. No… this was entirely different, the Princess’s presence seemed to exist everywhere around her. And yet, physically she was in front of her. CT-312’s hand flexed slowly at her side.

Then there was Eira, who stood beside her in silence. She too felt “off”. Not her usual demeanor. Since both of their return from the altercation between the Iron and Sith Covenant, something seemed to change.

Her visor reflected the distant volleys of arrows shot towards the edge of the arena and the fire that erupted out of one of the combatants, consuming a part of the arena. CT-312’s trigger finger twitched against the side of thigh. A flash of memory surrounded and englufed by fire, in front of her was one of the previous Dark Councilors that she became pitted against. The glove creaked beneath her tightening grip, shaking ever so slightly from the pressure.

A ghost of static words hissed through her helmet. CT-312 blinked. The arena and surroundings returned, her clenched hand relaxed. BARCA’s notifications stacked across the HUD. “...Yeah.” She murmured to herself. Another chime went off. CT-312 turned her helmet towards Eira, studying the apprentice as her focus was on the arena.

CT-312 went to gently press an armored elbow against Eira’s arm. The contact would have been light and deliberate. When the Scout had the apprentice’s attention, she pointed with the chin of the helmet towards the apprentice before angling her helmet and directing it towards Quinn. No words were necessary. They needed to speak.

The Scout then leaned forward until the vented grill of her helmet rested near Quinn’s ear. Keeping her voice beneath the surrounding conversation, “I’ll be right back.” CT-312 had straightened up before any acknowledgement could be made and stepped away. Her gloved hand rose behind Eira’s back and reached to pat with a gentle push toward the Princess in passing.

Go.

As she continued walking, CT-312 didn’t remain to see whether Eira followed the suggestion. Passing through the doors and entering into the quiet corridors, the noise of the arena and cheers were reduced to muffles and distant vibrations. A breath that she didn’t realize she had been holding was released.

BARCA sounded another sequence of chimes. CT-312 looked up at the display mounts along the corridor, showing the battles from several angles. “Agreed.” Her footsteps echoed through the passage as she roamed. “Funny how that worked out.” BARCA answered with a questioning trill. “Change, huh?” The word remained with her as she eventually found another spectator box.

Entering in, there were only a handful of occupants. Several off-duty guards and Troopers talking amongst themselves. She moved towards an empty space near the transparisteel overlooking the arena. CT-312 folded her arms across the plating of her chest as she continued to watch the fight below.

 

[Aileni Ifor Xeraic]

​

Outfit: Dathomir Wanderer
Equipment: Dathomiri Energy Bow
Tag: Darth Strosius | Lirka Ka | Aerik Lechner | Sybil ragnos | Varin Mortifer | Kaelen Voss

An arrow shot through the air and pierced into the head of a random Sith that was roaring about his victory over a dead body. Aileni couldn't even take the moment to realise that he gave into the primal thoughts of killing, it was necessary. He couldn't come across as someone worthy of taking note if he didn't fight and he needed to kill, otherwise suspicion would be placed on him. Aileni was still remaining on the edges of the fight, seeing more participants funnelling into the fight, he observed the way that they fought.

He held his bow and pulled back the drawstring, spotting another opponent, the arrow shot forward and impacted the shoulder. Not the killing blow that Aileni had been attempting to aim for. He realised that things were very different in the heat of a large arena combat compared to the more singular fights and alleyway brawls that Aileni had been used to over the years. The Sith spotted him, charging forward with a sword of black metal in his hand. Attempting to rapidly fire several more shots, the Sith was more prepared and swinging his blade to block each shot. Aileni cursed, he really needed to figure out a way to ensure that could not happen in the future. Perhaps needing to look into different styles of bows.

Putting the bow away, Aileni used his natural high speed to dodge the first swing at his neck. His appearance gave the notion that he might be a slower, hard hitting brawler but Aileni was fast and nimble with how he fought. It was only in more recent years that he had gained the muscle mass that he currently held. Aileni broke the forearm of the Sith and took the blade from them. His deep emerald eyes glittered with a darkness that showed no mercy. This was not only part of the mission for him, but it was ensuring one more Sith was not out there in the galaxy harming others. Pressing the blade's edge to the throat of the Sith, he beheaded the man.

Twirling the sword in his hand, he could feel the darkness in the blade, it was clearly some style of Sith sword. It was not a comfortable sensation to hold but it was a new weapon and one that he would utilise. Aileni just needed to find a new target, someone else that he could take down. He didn't have to stick to the edges of the arena to fight now but moving closer to where the main fighting was happening was still far too risky. He did not believe his skills in attempting to deceive and hide his abilities would survive that kind of scrutiny.

 

[Nerralyn Raaf]

Mercy Helix Quinn Varanin Revna Marr Gerwald Lechner Eira Dyn CT-312
​

Fully engrossed as she appeared to be in the game running on her datapad, and it was going quite well as she had three match wins already with a deck centered around Domino, she was still keeping half an ear on the conversation flowing in the box. Most of it was about betting on the participants, including commentary on said combatants, so disinterest from the eldest Raaf daughter continued.

Until the question was posed directly to her by the visiting Empress of the Core.

"Hmm?" she said, finally looking up to meet the burning eyes of the Empress with the amethyst eyes she had inherited from her mother. "Oh, no, your Eminence. The wrong Raaf is present in this box for any flutter on the fighters. That's more the territory of my sister and brother, and my other mother. I can say I certainly am not rooting for the man that kidnapped my niece and nephew though. So I suppose Lord Lechner's son or Councilor Ka would be preferable."

She wondered how much the Empress of the Core knew about that whole situation; it had been quite the event among the Sith Order. Her attention started to drift back to her datapad when her ears would perk up at what Helix was offering as his side of the wager. Tarnicite. The word and the crystal behind it had passed across her mother's desk, tangentially from reports, but acquiring a sample of that material hadn't exactly made it high up their priority list yet. That was taken up almost exclusively by their plans with ATC and the Kainate and within the Core.

 

[Gerwald Lechner]

WEARING: This
WEAPONS: Ferrum Solus | Blodmåne | Strømafbryder
SHIP: Vigfjall
TAG: Helix | Quinn Varanin | Mercy | Revna Marr | Nerralyn Raaf

Gerwald did not answer immediately.

His attention remained upon the arena as Varin intercepted Aerik's attack, the clash of crimson blades sending sparks scattering across the stone beneath them. The movement earned only the slightest narrowing of the Dread Wolf's eyes. The young man had grown. That much was evident before another exchange had even been made.

The last time Gerwald had spoken with Varin, the apprentice had still been learning the boundaries between himself and the beast that shared his soul. That uncertainty was gone. Whatever road Revna had set him upon since then had tempered him into something far more disciplined, his movements carrying purpose where once there had been hesitation.

"He's changed," Gerwald observed quietly. "For the better."

Only then did he glance toward Revna.

"No," he answered simply. "It doesn't surprise me."

His gaze drifted back toward the arena before continuing.

"You've never struck me as someone who mistakes loyalty for blindness. If anything, I'd have been surprised had you come here simply to cheer for your master. Strosius doesn't need applause, and I doubt he'd think much of an apprentice who offered it."

A corner of his mouth hinted at the faintest smile before disappearing as quickly as it had come.

"You see the same thing I do. The future is standing in that arena."

Aerik slipped away from another exchange below, refusing to linger where too many blades threatened to converge. Gerwald watched the decision more than the strike itself.

"There are only so many wars left for our generation to fight. The next ones will belong to them."

His fingers rested loosely against the stem of his glass before he let out a quiet breath that almost resembled a laugh.

"Though, truth be told, I've spent enough weeks buried beneath fleet dispositions, logistics, and Dark Council meetings." He took another sip. "If I wanted to spend my evening discussing the coming war, I'd still be sitting around the council table."

Another collision of blades echoed through the arena, drawing another faint smile from the Dread Wolf.

"Tonight, I'd rather watch talented Sith try to separate one another's heads from their shoulders."

His golden eyes followed the fight below.

"They'll all make mistakes before this is over. The trick is making sure someone else pays for them."

He lifted his glass ever so slightly toward Revna.

"So, for now, I'll enjoy the spectacle and hope the Princess collects on her wager."

 

[Darth Wallgof]

Outfit: Armoured Sith
Equipment: Beskar Sith Armour, Single Blade Lightsaber
Tag: CT-312

He had not been able to create his powerful empire, his imperial dreams were hindered, the idea to hide the Sith influence on imperialism and ensure the longevity of the Sith was not a path that was needed nor was it something that he could maintain himself. His mind too broken and lost with the voice of Naga Sadow that he couldn't maintain the rulership he held on Zygerria. His city still survived his insanity but it was not the peak of imperial control that Wallgof had promised the citizens. Instead of fostering trade and developing beyond the imperial walls, Wallgof was lost in his throne room, visions clouding his mind. Death was in the future, his, someone associated to him, someone he needed to kill... He was not sure. All he could do was carve numbers, carve strange symbols and the name of a location. Jutrand.

As the visions became more frequent, Wallgof knew that his time was coming, that there was a path stretching out before him and he could not help but take the step forward to start it.

Once he stepped upon the surface of the Sith Order's capital, he knew the direction he needed to be heading towards. There was an arena of war being played. Title for the strongest who was willing to fight. Wallgof wondered if that would be where he would see the person that he needed to meet. The face that lingered in his mind. However, Wallgof could not know for certain. Visions were fickle and he could not guarantee that he was following the right strands.

He did not seek out the boxes where all the Sith were gathered and watching, it was too crowded and it was filled with people that Wallgof never desired to be close with. The Sith Lord still held the arrogance that he carried from his first attempt in creating his empire. The box he did enter was crowded with more imperial types, soldiers, officers. His gaze did not linger on any of them bar one. One who did not wear armour like the other soldiers. Did not stand like an officer. There was something different and Wallgof found himself all too curious. Could this be the one that needed him?

"What are your thoughts on their fighting then?" His voice marbled with voice changer in the mask, echoing and layered with rage.

 

[Revna Marr]

Tag: Gerwald Lechner
Nearby: Mercy // Helix // Nerralyn Raaf // Quinn Varanin // Eira Dyn // CT-312 // Darth Wallgof ​

Revna’s ears picked up the chatter around the boxes, and she could feel the brief touch of Mercy’s gaze upon her as the Covenant Empress gazed across the room. Revna did not look back at her, but there was a faint upturn to her lips when she heard Mercy’s chuckle.

Others spoke, saying this or that, who they were betting on and who they weren’t. The little Marr heard and filed it away, shifting ember eyes casually across the viewing box one more time to place faces with the many voices and words she heard.

Then her focus was back on the ring, watching the fight unfold.

Gerwald mentioned how Varin had changed, for the better, and hearing that from the older Sith Lord brought a small bit of joy to her. She couldn’t claim all the merit in how Varin had turned out thus far - there were others who had stepped in alongside him to help shape him. One of those individuals was sitting in the viewing box with the others. But it still pleased Revna to hear that the work taken to push the young man towards greatness was working, and was recognized by others.

Gerwald glanced at Revna after her comments, and said that he wasn’t surprised that she wasn’t there to support her own master in the fight - and that Revna didn’t strike him as one who mistook loyalty for blindness. He went on to say how he felt Strosius wouldn’t have thought much of an apprentice who applauded for him, since the scrappy Sith Lord didn’t need applause.

Revna let the Councilor’s words sink into her mind and she chewed on them for a minute. Once upon a time, she was wholly loyal to Alisteri. When she’d been but an acolyte and didn’t quite know the history of her Master. Experience and watching the man go about his galactic affairs with other Sith had made her see more clearly, and though her loyalty was still strong, she was no longer blinded by it. Her Father had taught her many important things that had helped shape her…but unbeknownst to Him, perhaps the most important lessons He passed on to her was what not to do when engaging other Sith.

Or be chained down by events of the past that blinded and alienated one from rising up to a place of influence within the Order.

"You see the same thing I do. The future is standing in that arena. There are only so many wars left for our generation to fight. The next ones will belong to them."

“Indeed. Those that survive will eventually overshadow even us.” Revna murmured softly as her gaze tracked the clash between Varin and Aerik. With Lirka Ka now facing two other adversaries, Darth Strosius disengaged from her to join up with Varin. She tilted her head at that development and wondered how Aerik would fare against the two of them.

"Though, truth be told, I've spent enough weeks buried beneath fleet dispositions, logistics, and Dark Council meetings. If I wanted to spend my evening discussing the coming war, I'd still be sitting around the council table. Tonight, I'd rather watch talented Sith try to separate one another's heads from their shoulders. They'll all make mistakes before this is over. The trick is making sure someone else pays for them. So, for now, I'll enjoy the spectacle and hope the Princess collects on her wager."

A half smirk pulled at one side of Revna’s lips hearing Gerwald’s comments. “I know the truth of it. Why do you think I am here and not on Korriban sitting in a Council chamber, listening to the rants and dronings of the Lords whose heads are too big for their own shoulders?” She rumbled, taking a deep drink of the green wine in her glass. “There is only so much you can hear or tolerate of the same arguments and sword measuring contests before you want to just…execute them all. It is good to get away sometimes, and just take a breather.”

She flickered her amused gaze towards Gerwald for a moment, before sitting back in her chair and kicking up her feet to rest them on the railing directly in front of her. It was decidedly not a very lady-like gesture, but she wanted to be comfortable as she watched the bloodletting continue down below.

“And, as you said, enjoy the spectacle and watch Sith try to relieve others of their heads. The talks of wars and rumors of wars can wait another day.” ​

 

[Eira Dyn]

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Objective: 2 - Observing the betting
Outfit: Apprentice Attire
Equipment: Lethal Pursuers
Tag: Quinn Varanin

CT-312 was seemingly attempting to nudge Eira towards Quinn, the soldier seemed to be acutely aware of Eira. Something clearly due to the fact that they had become friends. As gentle as the attempts were, the armour and strength of 312 made Eira stumble a little, her grounding not as firm as it would be normally. Breathing in deeply, Eira felt like cursing the fact that she had allowed herself a friend, it seemed that meant they knew her too well and knew how to help her. Or what she needed to do. It was frustrating since she was now balancing a feeling of thankfulness as well as resentment for being far too open.

But only CT-312 had noticed her attitude for now. Others seemed far too lost in their discussions or observing the fight as it continued on. Eira was thankful for that, too many eyes on her and seeing through her visage would have been a final nail in the coffin in terms of embarrassment. The Sith apprentice watched as her friend left, wondering where the bodyguard for Quinn was going. She rarely left Quinn's side. Perhaps being surrounded by all these Sith, sensing the power emanating from Quinn. Perhaps 312 understood that Quinn was not needing her presence.

It was sad to see 312 leave and the temptation to cowardly dip out was high, however, Eira knew that her friend would demand an update on how the conversation went and likely would make sure it happened by checking with Quinn. It would be far too shameful and dramatic to wriggle her way out of this conversation. Watching a little more of the duel, Eira inhaled deeply. The scents of death and chaos filling her lungs. She continued to walk towards Quinn.

Speaking in a lowered voice, Eira looked to her Master, "my Master, may we speak in private for a moment?" Eira was never going to air her thoughts and feelings publicly, and she was not sure of a discreet or secretive way to pull Quinn's attention without drawing questions from those around them. This felt clean in her mind.

 

[Aerik Lechner]

Wearing: This | Weapons: Lightsaber | Knife
TAG: Lirka Ka | Darth Strosius Sybil ragnos​

Aerik's second strike never reached Darth Strosius.

A blade wreathed in roaring flame crashed into his own, locking the two sabers together in a spray of sparks. Gold eyes met the crimson glow beyond Varin's visor for only an instant. Recognition settled as quickly as irritation. Of everyone in the arena, it had to be him.

The timing couldn't have been worse.

Aerik had forced Darth Strosius to react, only for Varin to step between them and steal the initiative away.

His expression hardened.

There was no point wasting energy trying to batter through the bind. Instead, Aerik kept his feet moving, circling around the locked blades in a tight arc. If Varin intended to maintain the clash, then the engagement would move on Aerik's terms. He refused to become the fixed point that allowed Darth Strosius an easy strike.

His attention never left the Dark Lord.

Steel and crimson light shifted in his peripheral vision as Darth Strosius moved to capitalize on the interruption, circling with sword and lightsaber in an attempt to carve into Aerik's exposed side. Aerik answered with disciplined footwork rather than haste, continuing his own rotation around the bind and forcing the angle to change before the attack could find the clean line it sought.

He had dragged Darth Strosius away from Lirka Ka once already, and intended to keep him there.

The instant the pressure between the locked blades eased, Aerik let the separation happen naturally instead of wrenching free. He stepped through the opening without hesitation, driving another compact cut toward Darth Strosius' weapon side. The attack was measured, deliberate, and relentless. It was not thrown in expectation of an easy hit, but to force another decision from an opponent whose attention was already divided.

Varin had bought his Grandmaster a moment.

Aerik intended to make it the last one he received.

 

[Varin Mortifer]

VARIN MORTIFER

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

Varin gave Darth Strosius a nod as the clash held, the hissing of the two blades that met spat sparks in a multitude of directions. His eye remained on both Aerik and Darth Strosius as the position moved and shifted. Aerik shifting his position as Darth Strosius moved for a cleaner strike.

When the clash had broken Varin made his next move, his free hand balled into a fist. An action that was programmed into his armor to summon a smaller blade from his forearm, made for tight quarters. He made a quick jab towards Aerik as he struck towards Strosius, aiming for the quad of his leg. The muscle that would hold and solidify his stance.

He would force him to move around further, or at least attempt to.

He had fought Aerik before, even if it were only a spar. Every bit of information he had of that day had been stored inside Varin’s mind.

Aerik liked to move, so Varin saw he had three choices. He could try to hold him, or he could force him to move and tire out.

Or…he could do both.

Without warning, tendrils of pyroclastic smoke writhed out of Varin’s back. What was once just heated smoke now held a more darker truth. They were now corporeal. Not only could he burn his opponent, if they succumbed to heat, but he could attempt to grab at their limbs and hold them.

The tendrils snaked and slithered at quick speeds along the ground, grasping for Aerik’s legs first while another set aimed to grasp for his arms. He knew Aerik would be unphased by heat, so there was no point in wasting more of his energy trying to burn something that seemed immune to the effect. He would instead attempt to leash him.

Darth Strosius | Aerik Lechner​