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.