Dominion Sport of Blood | SO Dominion of Empty Hex

[Darth Strosius]

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

The interloper was quick even with Varin and Darth Strosius both bearing down on him, maneuvering out of the blade lock and away from His own slash in order to press forward with another cut at Him. Stepping back would have been the most optimal course of action, albeit it would continue to rob Him of the initiative that He would need to end this bout quickly and move on to His real target. Thankfully it seemed like His grandapprentice had a solution to their flight footed foe.

Entrapment. A strike that would force the interloper forward in order to avoid it whilst sending forth more scalding emanations towards his limbs, with these seeming far more physical at a glance. The heat alone was but another pull for Darth Strosius to step back and gain some distance but He ignored His own instincts in regards to both threats. Varin had the right idea, keeping their foe trapped between the pair of them would be the simplest and most effective solution.

So rather than moving away, the masked Sith Lord moved in. His sword flashed up to meet His opponent's orange blade and bat it away whilst His own crimson one was thrust forward directly at the center of the younger foe as though to skewer him right through. Ideally either His or Varin's stabs would land and then this could be wrapped up in short order, then He could rip Lirka's head off of her shoulders as He had intended to do before He'd been so rudely interrupted.

 

[Lirka Ka]

LEADERS OF THE PACK

TAGS: Kaelen Voss Sybil ragnos

The Councillor was pleased. Very pleased. They would arrive at the borders of the republic as a veritable host of the battered and bloodied. But they would be sharpened. A knife’s edge honed and ready for pandemonium.

But perhaps she was getting ahead of herself.

Feeling Sybil ragnos yanked from her hand, Lirka had that modicum of disappointment that she didn’t get to test and see how well the red woman faired against a saber. It abided quickly - these two would be worth a visit when all was said and done. Pieces on the board not yet established in Lirka’s calculus, and Lirka had all intent to see where they’d stand after.

She was a duelist foremost - a savage and ravenous duelist, but a duelist nonetheless. Now squared off against Kaelen Voss she could feel the ripple of anticipation that came with a good fight. This was not the wonton butchery of a beast on the charge, this would be a Battle of Wills. And a chance to see how well the new blood faired.

Yet for a moment though, his taunt was met with silence. Just the crackling of the electro-plasma filament across the edge of her machete, and the whirr of her mechanisms as the sizzling hole in body globbed and mounded with seeping black foulness in response to the wound.

And then she spoke, it was a bestial glee, barely contained behind her vocalizer.

“Yes, let us see.”

A golden hilt upon her belt clasped into her now freed hand. Snap-hiss. A blade of gleaming yellow, a Jedi’s weapon: plundered from the halls of New Cov and ever-so-gracefully provided by Lorn Reingard after their spout. Lirka had never much fought with sabers before - but there was no time to learn like the present.

She exploded out in a burst of barely restrained violent speed - the saber’s blade stabbing out towards Kaelen Voss while the machete in her other hand sizzled through the air in a hacking strike aim low for the man’s leg

​

​

 

[Aerik Lechner]

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

Smoke rolled across the sand while Varin's forearm blade darted toward Aerik's thigh. At the same moment, Darth Strosius closed the distance instead of yielding it, sword and lightsaber moving together as he drove into the space the pair had created between them. Neither attack needed to land by itself. Together they denied ground, narrowed every avenue of movement, and steadily compressed the battlefield until every obvious response played into their hands.

Aerik saw it for what it was.

Every instinct urged him to continue pressing Strosius. The older Sith remained within reach, and the opening Aerik had created still lingered just beyond the trap they were trying to close around him. For a fleeting moment he wanted to force it anyway. Gerwald was watching. Quinn was too.

The thought lingered longer than it should have.

He had not spoken to Quinn since their last conversation, and he still did not know how he was supposed to. She had been honest with him, kinder than she needed to be, and he had accepted the truth she had given him. Accepting it had been easier than deciding what came afterward. Since then, distance had become simpler than conversation, but none of it had quieted the part of him that still wanted her to see him at his best. Not because he believed it would change anything between them. It wouldn't. He simply wanted her to see that he had listened, that he had learned, and that the young man standing in the arena was no longer the one who had lost control on Brosi.

That single thought settled the impulse to force another attack.

Aerik refused the engagement altogether.

His orange blade moved only enough to keep steel from finding flesh while his feet carried him sharply off the line the two Sith had built around him. Sand scattered beneath his boots as he slipped toward open ground, changing the angle of the fight before the pocket could fully close. He neither retreated nor disengaged. Instead, he abandoned the battlefield Strosius and Varin had prepared for him, forcing them to follow or surrender the advantage they had worked together to create.

Only once he had broken free did Aerik allow the pace to slow. His breathing remained even as his gaze moved between the two Sith, studying them with the same patience they had shown him. Strosius had abandoned Lirka to remove him from the field. Varin had abandoned his own ambitions to protect his master. Neither decision had come without cost.

Aerik settled lightly upon the balls of his feet, the point of his lightsaber unwavering as he waited to see which of them would make the next commitment.

 

[Varin Mortifer]

VARIN MORTIFER

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

Aerik had moved and abandoned position altogether, drawing his own line within the sand. Varin could see what he was doing, he was dragging the fight on his own terms. Pacing the two of them at his will. Varin did not hesitate when Aerik gained his own momentum within the skirmish, slowing the fight to a more advantageous standard.

He drew the Black Blade, the hissing of its metallic compound was like a promise of death itself. Many had witnessed the Blade, and many had fallen victim to it.

Varin moved, looking to close the gap, only he routed around. He would force him to either pay attention to him or Darth Strosius, regardless of Aerik's decision, Varin attacked. The blade swung forth though he did not move close enough to strike flesh. Instead sharpened telekinetic waves erupted from the Blade, rocketing towards Aerik, what seemed reckless still had a note of tactical mind. Each telekinetic strike angled in such a way they would avoid Darth Strosius and hopefully give him an opening.

The assault would not relent, all the while he would watch Aerik to see how he would react and file it away in his mind. He was studying and testing him.

Aerik Lechner | Darth Strosius​

 

[CT-312]

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

Something unfamiliar tugged at CT-312’s senses. A subtle pull from behind. The Scout knew that it was not Quinn and it did not carry one of the recognizable impressions she had encountered during her time among the Sith Order. CT-312’s eyes snapped upward behind the visor. Her helmet never moved from its position overlooking the arena. BARCA responded to the subtle movements of her eyes. A small window pulled up in the HUD, displaying the viewing box behind her through the suit’s external feeds.

A new figure had entered. At a distance, the silhouette resembled any number of Sith Lords CT-312 had encountered: tall, armored, masked with robes. Immediately several nearby Officers and Troopers straightened up upon the arrival. The once loud conversations faltered into quiet whispers around the room. Some of the off-duty Troopers hastily lowered their drink in hand, while the others attempted to make their own posture appear more in regulation than it had been moments before.

CT-312 dismissed the room’s reaction. The figure had not entered with weapons drawn, nor did they address anyone. She minimized the rear camera feed and returned her full attention to the arena. Below, the combatants continued circling one another amid the scattered fires and broken ground. The occasional swelling roar of the audience bled into the spectator box. Before CT-312’s thoughts could drift, the lingering sensation of the new presence behind her grew slightly as it moved closer.

BARCA, pinged, sounding a muted proximity alert inside her helmet. CT-312 remained where she was, unmoving. The Scout’s attention was split between the arena and her surroundings. Eyes still focused below—

An unnaturally deep distorted masked voice spoke out next to her. Their voice modulator carried each word harsh with anger reverberating beneath the distortion.

She continued looking over the arena. Underneath the helmet, CT-312 blinked once. Of all the people occupying the viewing box, she had not expected this newcomer Sith Lord to be asking for her assessment. The officers nearby carried ranks that invited those types of discussions and the off-duty Troopers had spent the better part of the match loudly declaring which combatants would prevail. CT-312 had offered nothing. She remained apart from their wagers with her arms still folded across her chest plate.

A brief silence followed before she answered.

“Predictable.”
Some of the combatants rushed in at the start of the contest. There were a few that advanced with caution, waiting for an opening before committing themselves. Others charged directly into confrontation, trusting their own raw strength and aggression to overwhelm anything placed before them.

CT-312’s visor began to slowly sweep across the arena.

“Typical.”
Near the arena’s outer wall, several fighters kept their distance from the larger clashes. Arrows flew loose, Force generated elements surged outward, and any other attacks were flung at an exposed target whenever it presented itself. It seems the ones at a distance were content on letting the more aggressive contenders exhaust one another before attempting to claim an advantage.

The Scout’s gaze moved toward the center of the fighting.

“Chaotic.”
Several Sith had converged upon an older, more experienced combatant. A silent understanding and momentarily cooperating with each other to weaken the greater threat first. Their alliance lasted only as long as necessity demanded. The instant an opportunity appeared, they turned upon one another. Blades and ambition breaking whatever temporary arrangement had existed between them.

Her eyes behind the visor continued to follow the shifting of the engagements below.

“Obvious.”
Every fighter down there was waiting for someone else to make a mistake. To capitalize upon it and deliver a decisive strike. To obtain glory. There would be champions by the end of this spectacle. Names would be shouted by the crowd and reputations would be elevated by whoever remained standing.

CT-312’s visor trailed to stands and viewing boxes seated above as the spectators cheered. The Scout fell quiet again for a second. It all felt...

“Boring.” to her.

The longer she observed each combatants, the more she began to notice something else beyond the spectacle of the fighting. CT-312’s jaw tightened as her brow began to furrow. One gloved hand closed around the plating of her crossed arms, her fingers pressing harder against the armor with each passing moment. Irritation gathered slowly beneath.

Ripping her attention away from below, CT-312’s helmet finally turned towards the stranger. At first glance, the stranger had appeared to be another Sith Lord. Up close the distinction was less certain. Her eyes traveled across their armor. There clearly was Imperial design from the armor he wore, yet there was Sith influence layered over that foundation. Was he a Sith Lord or Imperial?

Her brow rose behind the visor. Curious. CT-312’s tone came through without inflection from her helmet’s voice modulator. “And what do you make of the fighting so far?” Turning around enough to regard him directly without unfolding her arms.

CT-312’s helmet shifted slightly to see past him to the rest of the view box. The Officers and Troopers nearby were nervously not trying to pay attention and made an effort to avoid looking in their direction. The visor settled back on the masked stranger. “If you happen to be looking for the viewing box reserved for those higher in rank, it is not far from this one.”

 

[Darth Strosius]

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

Rather than standing his ground the interloper was clever enough to maneuver out of what little space was left between Himself and Varin, forcing Him to halt His stride lest He collide with the apprentice. The masked Sith Lord's gaze snapped to follow the trail of the orange blade and narrowed in frustration. "Flighty little brat isn't he?" He muttered under His breath as Varin drew forth a new weapon, quirking a brow beneath His mask at the sight of it.

He hadn't known that the younger Sith was fond of more physical weaponry such as Himself until now. Revna had taught him well. Darth Strosius allowed Varin to move first however He wasn't very far behind at all, surging forwards with both of His blades bared and ready to carve into their opponent. Whilst he went for the flank of the interloper, the Sith Lord took the more direct route albeit with a drop to a slide in order to surely avoid the waves echoing from the blade of His grandapprentice.

Sand kicked up as He slid forwards and lashed both blades to either cleave through the interloper's legs or cut into his lower body. With Varin moving around ideally they would be able to encircle and end their shared nuisance without any further delay, assuming that he didn't just stand there and try to weather the attacks at least.

 

[Aerik Lechner]

Wearing: This | Weapons: Lightsaber | Knife
TAG: Darth Strosius | Varin Mortifer​

Aerik did not have to wait long for an answer.

Both men came for him.

There was satisfaction in that, though Aerik allowed little of it to reach his expression. Breaking away had given Strosius every opportunity to return his attention to Lirka, while Varin could have sought another opponent and pursued his own claim to the prize waiting at the end of the melee. Instead, both had followed. Whatever else happened from this point forward, Aerik had succeeded in pulling Strosius away from the fight he had entered the arena wanting.

Varin was the more complicated problem. Aerik knew him well enough to recognize the way he watched, and their previous spar ensured the familiarity worked in both directions. Varin had seen how Aerik moved and was already adapting to it. The Black Blade only added another variable as its edge swept through empty air and something unseen tore toward him.

Aerik felt the first telekinetic strike through the Force before it reached him. His free hand rose as the Force gathered around him, hardening into a barrier between himself and the approaching assault. The first impact struck hard enough to send a tremor through the invisible defense, followed almost immediately by another from a different angle. Aerik adjusted rather than trying to hold a single wall against everything Varin sent his way, shaping the barrier around his advance while his feet continued to carry him forward. Each collision demanded something from him, and the sustained pressure made concentration increasingly expensive, but stopping would have given Varin exactly what he wanted.

Aerik had already given him one answer today. He had no intention of giving him the same one twice.

Quinn Varanin was still somewhere above him, and Aerik wondered if she was having as much trouble figuring out what came next as he was. They had both kept their distance since their last conversation, neither quite willing to test what remained once everything they had left unsaid was finally understood. Aerik still loved her, and he suspected some part of him always would, but that did not mean those feelings had to become another burden for Quinn to carry.

He wanted to impress her today, there was no sense pretending otherwise, but more than that he wanted her to see that he could stand beside her without needing anything in return. She did not have to protect him from disappointment, and she did not have to protect him from herself. Whatever dangers Quinn believed came with being close to her, Aerik wanted her to understand that he could make that choice for himself. He was not asking her to feel differently. He only wanted her to stop believing that caring about him meant keeping him at a distance.

Another telekinetic strike crashed against the barrier as Strosius came directly through the storm Varin had created, dropping into a slide with both weapons sweeping toward Aerik's lower body. The older Sith had committed to the attack, and this time Aerik refused to surrender ground simply because the two had coordinated against him.

Aerik let the barrier fall and redirected his concentration into movement, planting a foot and calling upon the Force to propel himself upward. Rather than retreat from the blades sweeping toward his legs, he attempted to vault over the sliding Sith, keeping his orange lightsaber close enough to answer either weapon should Strosius alter the course of his attack while Aerik passed overhead.

There was no strike as Aerik sought to clear him. Attacking from the air would have committed him before he knew where his feet would land, and Varin remained beyond the engagement with the Black Blade in hand. Their previous spar had taught Aerik enough to know Varin would remember every answer he gave him, which meant predictability would become increasingly dangerous the longer the fight continued.

If the maneuver carried him clear, Aerik would land beyond Strosius and immediately turn to face both men again, keeping the older Sith close enough that Varin would have to continue accounting for his position when choosing the angle of his next attack.

For now, Aerik wanted to see how they solved that problem.

 

[Sybil ragnos]

Lirka Ka Kaelen Voss

Sybil layed there still disoriented from the headbutt as she tried to get up but failed to do so. As blood trickled from her forehead her vision wouldn't stop shaking as she tried to get up repeatedly to no evail.

 

[Quinn Varanin]

//: Mercy //: Gerwald Lechner //: Helix //: Revna Marr //: Eira Dyn //:

Quinn mused over the reaction she received from her bet. She had faith in Aerik, but a part of her hoped he lost. The boy was strong; it was rather obvious from how he fought. But some lessons could only be taught by experience, guided by a hand that would not yield. Still she watched, wondering how much of his strength was from his training with her uncle and how much of it was from his lineage. Like Quinn, he was a legacy, born from power that poured over the edge. He understood what it meant to be the child of legends.

As similar as they were, distance was still the better choice.

Even now she could feel how much he wanted to prove himself. His focus was finding a way to reach out to her, to include her and make her a driving force. Did his strength come from that? Did her presence influence him that much? He was a fool, and his heart was even more foolish.

"True, but I'm sure I won the last bet, Mercy. I hope your wallet is ready to pay up; I've had my eye on a few of the newer restaurants opening up on Coruscant."

The young royal gave her childhood friend a mischievous smirk. She was fully aware that Mercy often won their competitions, but maybe today would be different. Her eyes settled in on Gerwald, who sat next to Revna, Strosius' daughter.

Quinn listened to her fellow councilor as he made his bets, adding on to the wager she had placed on his boy. A father's pride, she felt it, but they both knew Aerik had so much more to learn. She didn't respond as she continued to watch the fight. It wasn't easy to just stand by and watch; she wanted to cheer for him, to show that she supported him, but she couldn't.

Especially after their last meeting. Quinn knew her place and needed to keep him far from her. This was the only way.

Her thoughts were interrupted as she felt her guard ( CT-312 ) wander away from her. Quinn's gaze followed the trooper, trying to understand the woman's need to leave. Her heart sank slightly, feeling the emptiness of the space beside her, but it wasn't for long. Her apprentice seemingly filled it, and her attention was drawn from the fight and towards the girl.

Eira had seemed different after Humbarine. Quinn hadn't wanted to speculate or dive into it before the girl was ready. Eira had always been the type to need time to collect her thoughts, even more so now. She had grown tremendously. It was apparent in her urge control, and her temperament not being the leader in her actions. Quinn didn't smile, but Eira would know that her Master was pleased to see her.

The request made the Echani's brow raise slightly for a moment. But she would nod her head as an answer.

"Of course." Her voice was tender for just the words as she stood. "This fight seems to be drawing to its end anyway."

She stood and allowed Eira to lead the way to a spot she felt secluded enough to speak. But before the Echani left, she looked to Gerwald, their thoughts hopefully on the same topic.

His son.

She would lean down, her lips to the edge of his ear.

"He's shown well, but there are lessons that cannot be taught by a Master… only through experience and defeat."

The woman had made her declaration, and upon further conversation between her and the Wolf — she would make her move. A hand carefully brushed back her blonde hair as she leaned away from him, letting whatever else he said pass. She knew the thoughts that formed in his mind as she smiled.

In a way to answer him.

"As much as I think Alisteri is an old fool, he showed well. Every dog deserves a bone on a good day."

Maybe today she hated Lirka Ka more than Darth Strosius .

With another smile to Mercy, she left and followed her apprentice. When they were far from prying ears and eyes, her face softened; the dreadful aura she was letting bleed into the force dissipated, being drawn back into the Echani.

"What is troubling you?"

 

[Varin Mortifer]

VARIN MORTIFER

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

Aerik kept his defense up from the blasts as Darth Strosius drew close with his blade, aiming to sweep him from below. Varin watched closely as Aerik chose his next maneuver. The leap came quick as he blocks the blades from Darth Strosius. It was then that Varin had done something he had not done in a long time. Something he would not have done unless he knew he could control what happened afterward. His arm hurled his Saber towards Aerik as he leapt.

The blade soared through the air towards its intended target. Varin waited watching for when he was ready to recall the attack.

But he also moved too, aiming to keep up the pressure.

He charged in with his Black Blade, furious swipes moving with fluidity as Aerik would regain footing. His blade came in high first, then would sweep low, forcing him to alter his guard to extremes.

Aerik was giving him a challenge. One Varin answered gladly. That was the purpose of such events as these. To be pushed, cornered and made desperate. To see what your body and mind would do under extremes.

Varin had faced many battles where he was caught in the thick of the fight. It was his first ever battle when this had happened to him. And he had paid for his mistakes dearly. Something he had to learn from. Since then he had gained more control.

This would put him to such a test.

Though he wouldn’t admit it, he was glad it was Aerik that would be testing him.

Perhaps he would thank him for that if either of them survived today.

Aerik Lechner | Darth Strosius​

 

[Eira Dyn]

​

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

Eira waited patiently, giving Quinn the opportunity to continue the discussion of bets and the subtle moments that seemed like Quinn was playing a game of dejarik more than holding a conversation with people. Eira was curious about the way that Quinn was holding the conversations but also could not shake the thoughts that were lingering deep in her mind. Questions upon questions and she only seemed to desire to ask more questions when standing closer to Quinn. Was this truly the way that a first apprentice of the heir apparent conducts herself? No, it couldn't be, Eira should be more competent, more assured of herself, surely?

This was the greatest weakness that Eira was facing, doubt. It was shattering the previous walls of confidence, the ambition she once held, the drive to become the best. Now everything felt anxious or Eira second guessed every decision. All because one Mandalorian wouldn't die. Because he ran instead of standing his ground and fighting her like she wanted him to. Like she expected him to.

Finding a spot hidden, secluded from the eyes and ears of others. Eira paced, she felt her fingers tap with nerves against her thigh. Waiting for Quinn to conclude her conversations and finally confront what Eira needed to confront right now. Breathing in deeply, she felt the difference in Quinn, shifting the full presence, or what Eira had assumed was the full presence, of the Sith princess and now was holding herself in the way that Eira had always known Quinn to be around her. Except when at war.

"I have failed you. I continue to fail you. You deserve a better apprentice, one far more powerful than me." Eira burst out instantly, "I am not the Sith that you deserve to have by your side as you grow in power. I am not the Sith worthy to be by your side now. I cannot do half the things you can, nor can I even dream of ever doing them. I am just a farmer's daughter who dreamt too big." Eira ranted, hating herself more than she had ever hated herself or anyone else in that moment.

Eira's red eyes furious at no one but herself, "I could not fight as well as Aerik, you would be basically asking people to take your money if you attempted to call me your champion in that arena. CT-312 would be a far more competent candidate than I would be!" Eira did not make the comparison to dismiss her friend's abilities but to highlight Eira's failings even more. "I could not kill a singular Mandalorian on Humbarine. He fled, I did not maim him, did not kill him, did not even make him feel like he was going to die. I wearing my armour, I was fighting the best that I could and in the end it didn't even matter. I made no impact, I helped no one and I couldn't even thin their numbers."

Then Eira gestured to Quinn, "and then you were there creating storms, bringing down ships, causing disasters and being a walking apocalypse basically. How can I live up to the reputation of that when I can't even claim I did anything to help the Sith Covenant. I am not even a small potato, I am a nothing potato." Eira leaned against a wall, holding back the tears best that she could.

"You are better off without me, I mean, that's basically the case now. I barely see you, we haven't trained in ages and I have no clue what is going on in your life even though we should be close. You deserve an apprentice more attentive and stronger. One that can actually live up to the reputation of being your student."

"Anyways... That's it... That's all I had to say... Sorry for failing you..."

 

[Gerwald Lechner]

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

A low chuckle escaped the Dread Wolf at Revna's description of the councils she had abandoned on Korriban. Gerwald knew the sort well enough. Every gathering of Sith eventually produced someone convinced the volume of their voice was directly proportional to the importance of their opinion.

"Only so much? Your patience may be greater than mine."

The temptation to solve particularly tedious meetings with violence was certainly understandable, even if Gerwald had learned long ago that executing every irritating Sith Lord tended to create considerably more work than simply tolerating them. When Revna abandoned whatever remained of royal decorum and propped her feet against the railing, Gerwald glanced toward her boots before looking back at the Queen of Korriban.

"Careful. Someone might mistake you for enjoying yourself."

His attention returned to the arena as the fight shifted once more. Strosius had disengaged from Lirka and turned his attention toward Aerik alongside Varin. Two against one was hardly fair, which only caused Gerwald's smile to widen. Fair fights taught very little, and there was no lesson in rescuing Aerik from circumstances the boy had willingly placed himself within.

The Dread Wolf leaned back in his chair and watched his son contend with the problem before him. There was pride there. Gerwald had never bothered pretending otherwise, though pride did not make him blind to Aerik's shortcomings. The boy had grown considerably since leaving Jutrand for Dromund Kaas, and Prazutis had done exactly what Gerwald expected of him. Aerik was becoming stronger, more capable, and increasingly comfortable trusting his instincts when plans inevitably collapsed around him.

He was also eighteen, and there remained an entire galaxy prepared to remind him exactly how much he did not know.

Gerwald sensed Quinn before she approached, though his gaze remained upon the arena until the Princess leaned close enough for her words to remain between them.

"He's shown well, but there are lessons that cannot be taught by a Master… only through experience and defeat."

<<"I know," Gerwald answered quietly. "If he loses, he'll learn. If he wins, he'll learn something else.">>

He turned enough to meet Quinn's gaze. There was no disappointment in the possibility of Aerik losing, nor any need to defend his son against her assessment. Gerwald understood what she meant. Some lessons could not be given by a father or beaten into someone by a master. They had to be earned through experience, and Aerik would be poorer for it if those closest to him tried to spare him from every failure.

Quinn's smile told him she understood before she straightened. Her concession that Strosius had shown well earned a quiet laugh from Gerwald, particularly considering its source.

<<"That may be the kindest thing I've ever heard you say about him, Princess.">>

With that, Quinn departed alongside Eira, leaving Gerwald's attention to settle once more upon the arena.

The Dread Wolf took another drink as he watched Strosius and Varin continue to press Aerik. He had backed the Princess's wager, but Gerwald found himself increasingly unconcerned with whether it paid out. Aerik had already shown enough to make his father proud. Whatever came next was simply part of the lesson.

Gerwald glanced toward Revna again, finding her still comfortably situated with her feet upon the railing.

"You may have had the right idea coming here. The wars will still be waiting for us tomorrow, along with every Lord convinced their particular problem should become ours."

His glass lifted slightly toward the arena as another clash echoed through the viewing box.

"For tonight, wine and violence will do just fine."

Gerwald settled back into his chair beside her, content to leave tomorrow's burdens for tomorrow. There would be time enough for councils, campaigns, and all the responsibilities that came with the titles they carried. For the moment, the Dread Wolf intended to enjoy the rare luxury of having absolutely nothing expected of him beyond watching the spectacle below.

 

[Darth Wallgof]

​

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

Leaning against the ledge, Wallgof observed the fighting. Watching as some fought to survive, some fought to achieve glory and others fought for the chaos, the blood and the hunger. The Sith Lord studied everything, the way they moved and the weapons they used. The Mandalorian training kicked in and he observed the movements, the combat methods and the training. He chuckled deeply, "predictable, typical, chaotic, obvious..." He repeated as he mulled over the words in his mind.

"A cold analyse of the fighting, I can tell you thinking pragmatically. One could say with the cold efficiency that would be expected from a combat droid." Wallgof stated, "while it looks chaotic, but also predictable. You miss the soul of each fighter. The desires that burn in the way that they fight. Some are glory hunters, seeking a title in belief that it will validate what they feel is lacking in life. Others seek to just demonstrate that there is a reason to watch them, that they are worthy of being observed. Some fight for the chaos that the fight brings. Understanding their reasoning for fighting, it brings insight in who they are."

Tapping his helmet, "but no droid or artificial intelligence can show you that, experience. Experience and learning from being involved, that is what teaches you how to see others." Wallgof turned his attention back to the soldier, "but I think you also hold back some thoughts you have to. Perhaps you think you can do better than those in the ring?" He asked curious if she assumed she was a better fighter than the others. Wallgof gave no indication whether he would mock that suggestion or celebrate it. His body was relaxed, calm and open, as if he was merely talking with a friend. It was a composure that misled others into thinking the Sith Lord was anything close to sane, he could snap at any moment.

"I see that the Sith have grown too laxed, I do not see some of the more prominent Sith Lords, ones that are known to be the most dangerous out there fighting. It is less a competition of who is most worthy for the title and merely a faux demonstration." He had seen power that someone like Srina Talon could wield and nothing observed in the arena was close to what she had shown. "Either the Sith wish to hold back in order to avoid spies seeing their full power, or they have grown so arrogant to allow lesser beings fight for scraps." He waved his hand in contempt.

He laughed when suggested to view the fight from another area, "no child. No. This is here I am meant to be, here and with you. The Sith in those other boxes are not ones that would enjoy my presence nor do I believe I would enjoy theirs. Since I would condemn them for not being down there fighting. If this is to see who is the strongest amongst us, then none should be sitting in some box, placing bets and watching. Every Sith needs to demonstrate they are worthy of that title."

 

[Revna Marr]

Direct Tag: Gerwald Lechner
Others: Mercy // Quinn Varanin // Helix ​

Revna huffed softly hearing Gerwald’s comments about her patience being greater than his. “Patience is something I would like to think I excel in, Gerwald.” she said in response. “Especially when I have to deal with or otherwise interact with my Master…” Darth Strosius certainly had a way of testing her patience, that was for sure. Just like she no doubt tested His.

Her act of kicking up her feet to lounge pulled a humorous comment from the Dark Councilor, and she gave him a small grin, and no small amount of mischievousness in her gaze. “Oh, like what’s-his-face with that Tabloid?” She snorted at the thought of her being on the front page of some Tabloid because she decided to relax and actually enjoy herself for once. “Oh Force forbid someone in any seat or position of power have a life outside their duties…the audacity…” she murmured, her voice dripping with sarcasm and mockery.

Like Gerwald, Revna’s attention returned to the fighters in the ring, namely the fight between Darth Strosius, Varin, and Gerwald’s son. Both her Father and her Apprentice were pressuring Aerik, playing into whatever game he was trying to lead them into, and meeting him blow for blow. Varin especially kept his focus on Aerik, and the way he engaged the other young Sith told Revna that these two had interacted - and fought one another - before. There was a familiarity in the way both Varin and Gerwald’s son interacted with one another.

Another presence made itself known, and Revna’s ember eyes flickered to catch sight of Quinn Varanin, who had approached and leaned close to whisper something to Lord Lechner. She recalled, briefly, her first interaction with the Queen of Eshan on Brosi. The silvery haired woman had approached Revna because she had been talking to yet another beautiful young lady at the time, a family member. A young woman who Revna discovered was actually Srina’s daughter - a secret she still kept buried deeply, along with other secrets she kept from others.

Whatever was being whispered between Gerwald and Quinn was none of Revna’s business, so she returned her gaze to the ring and did her best to ignore them. What she couldn’t ignore, however, was Quinn’s passing comment about Revna’s former Master as the white-haired woman began to walk away from Gerwald, along with another young woman who was at her side. Revna cast her eyes towards Quinn’s back as a subtle shadow seemed to flash across her eyes and face, before she turned to watch the fight again.

She knew that many in the wider Order did not like the Lord of Wonosa, but that did not mean she was a fan of hearing others ridicule Him or otherwise demean Him. He was her Father, afterall.

Several more moments passed, before she noticed Gerwald glance her way. “You may have had the right idea coming here. The wars will still be waiting for us tomorrow, along with every Lord convinced their particular problem should become ours." He said as he tilted his glass towards the arena. "For tonight, wine and violence will do just fine."

“Of course I had the right idea to come here.” the little Marr said with another small half smirk before she downed the rest of her emerald green wine, showing a hint of confidence that she normally kept hidden away from others. She flagged down a nearby server with a tray of drinks and plucked another glass, this time filled with a dark amber liquid that certainly smelled stronger than wine, more akin to fine whiskey. She gave it a brief inhale, before tipping the crystal glass back to let the liquid slip down her throat with a pleasant, albeit fiery, burn that filled her chest and face with heat.

“Yes indeed, a fine drink and prime time violence is just what was needed.” She raised her glass slightly, a faint hint of pink dusting her normally pale cheeks. “Cheers. May the best fighter win.” ​