Public The Crimson Concord [Sith Order, Friends, & Frenemies]

[Srina Talon]

OOC Info
(What is this? How do I join?)

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Location: Dromund Kaas (New Kaas City) - Beneath a stormlit sky.
Time: Dusk
Introduction: Citizens of Dromund Kaas know that the storm never sleeps....But visitors will learn soon enough. Above the black towers of New Kaas City, lightning carves glowing scars into the sky. Each flash illuminates crimson banners that drape from wicked spires like blood stretched thin across cold stone. The air hums with intent, as if the city is holding its breath, but rain never dares to fall. The streets ripple with movement—Filled with dark-robed figures, armored silhouettes, merchant caravans, off-worlders, strangers, and ritual processions. Several city blocks of the Dark Core have been entirely shut down in anticipation of the upcoming event, and all seem drawn toward the brightest point of New Kaas: Sovereign Plaza.

Ruby red floodlights bathe the central location with a warm, but ominous glow. Holoprojectors shimmer to life above the skyline, broadcasting the Sigils of the Sith Order across every towering face of traditional architecture. There are no grand speeches announcing that the evening has begun. Just a slow, deliberate hum of power beckoning the unwary forward—measured, intentional, and impossible to ignore. To what end? Unknown.

As nightfall approaches, Sovereign Plaza isn't the only area to take on a new shape. Vendors assemble structures with practiced precision to fill out a pop-up Bazaar, while other corners of the district twist under alchemical guidance into temporary labyrinths. Throughout the city, transport lanes have been redirected. The Trade District's interior has loosened just enough to allow for passage, but not enough for anyone to forget who might be watching. The Citadel looms in the background as a reminder that there are eyes and ears in every surface, that always and forever, the gaze of the Order is upon you.

All are invited, or perhaps summoned, to test their place among the strong. To trade, to duel, scheme, network, and indulge. It is not a traditional festival. It is not peace. It is a gathering of dominion, a reminder that Sith do not vanish into the dark.

You may now arrive, masked or not, defiant or obedient—And step into the fray.
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Attractions:

Spoiler: Sovereign Plaza

Sovereign Plaza

"The central hub of the event, where elegance and danger meet."
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Sovereign Plaza is the ceremonial bleeding black heart of New Kaas City. It features dark stone archways, crimson banners, and the scent of spiced wine and incense is very heavy. Small red crystals are floating here and there to provide some measure of illumination outside of the floodlights. This is the "welcome zone" where characters can congregate, meet and greet, while enjoying freeform social interaction. There is a raised obsidian stage featuring alternating performances, dancers, illusionists manipulating fear into art, and even sound weavers conjuring sonic rituals to fuel a small dance floor not far away. Several food vendors have been brought in, such as Mew Noods and Galactic Griddle.

This would likely be the area where a lot of "intrigue" or "discussion" might take place...But it could also be a place where characters decide to openly start trouble. Apprentices and acolytes could easily start here, or, perhaps, your Master might take the opportunity to show off your prowess. Anything can happen. You might make a friend...Or find a blade in your back. Proceed wisely!​

Spoiler: Arcane Court

Arcane Court

"Where dark power is not hidden, it is glorified."
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The Arcane Court is a place where those interested in alchemical arts might find something of interest. Here in this district turned labyrinth, you'll find obsidian monoliths surrounding ritual circles that are etched into ancient basalt. The Force actively shudders within these walls. There are demonstrations of Sith Alchemy, turning flesh to metal or even the invocation of specters. You may find blood oaths and curses, experience shared visions, or enjoy performances of long-hidden Sith philosophy being read aloud. Things are likely happening very quickly, and often, in unexpected ways. From guests being possessed by a holocron to being chased down as a "rare component" for a ritual...There is rarely a dull moment. Powerful artifacts are displayed, but it is ill-advised for any to try and utilize a five-fingered discount. If tempting fate is your jam? Have an exit plan, a wish, and more than a few prayers.
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Spoiler: The Vault

The Vault

"A gleaming, angular showcase of technological supremacy. Buy and sell objects of mass destruction to your heart's content. All bow before your genius."
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Here can be found inventions and creations from the brightest minds in the galaxy. Entrepreneurs of all kinds can be found showing off their wares, creations, and technological feats, possibly for sale but probably to make the smartypants in the next booth feel like a dummy. There is so much to do and see in this sector that interested parties may spend the majority of their night leafing through weapons catalogs. There are weapon and gear testing areas, new cybernetics, and augments, as well as opportunities for slicers to prove their worth by testing their skill against Sith AI security protocol. There are more than a few "build-your-own" blaster tables and live demos. You may or may not leave with your arms still attached.

The Vault is one of the most popular areas, not only for explosive ordinance, but for the presence of an extremely dangerous Sithspawn Zoo wherein creators can show off their finest work. Do not try and feed what sits behind the force field, especially after the witching hour.
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Spoiler: The Pit

The Pit

"Entertainment for Sith is always edged in blood."
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The Pit will likely be a fan favorite from the sheer amount of booze they offer.

With a name so completely unceremonious on Dromund Kaas, one might think that the Pit is only a den of debauchery. It's mostly true...But it offers premium sabacc tables, holo-dueling simulators, and MAD droid-gladiaor fighting pits. There are mental dominance trials where Force Sensitives may compete in mind duels and illusions, as well as one-on-one dueling rings for those who prefer physical punishment. There are arcade-style games where minituarized Sith-Spawn can be "played" in holographic prediction matches. All things in the Pit can be something to bet on and or fight over. Feel free to bet credits or favors until you're entirely broke; you never know, you might win big.

The atmosphere is fairly rancorous, especially because patrons are often testing themselves in deadly combat...But also because of the particular House Rules:

1.) All wins and losses are OOC decided by a DICE ROLL you must make in your post. Whoever has the highest roll (You choose how many turns) wins that encounter.
2.) There are VOID STONES laced in specific areas, such as the sabacc tables, to level the playing field. (They will not be located where the Force is required.)
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Spoiler: The Concourse

The Concourse

"All things are for sale on Dromund Kaas."
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The Concourse is comprised of several city blocks in the Dark Core and is filled from one end to the other with merchant stalls. Everything can be found at this marketplace, from rare lightsaber crystals to poisons, hexed trinkets, and any type of material or good one might be able to imagine. Several tattoo artists offer alchemically imbued body art that may or may not have unknown effects. You can try smuggling items past the Praetorian or Corrector patrols...If you don't like living. The bazaar itself is full of winding red canopies, incense smoke, and the air is always choked with secrets. The deeper you go...The darker the deals.

At the deepest point of the Concourse, there is a hidden Black Market Area accessible by finding the Night Door. It's hidden behind a falsified vendor's tent, and can only be accessed with the passphrase "Through pain, we find clarity." Everything that can be found after passing through the Night Door is not for the faint of heart. The interior is much larger than it should be and is filled with velvet curtains and whispering statues. From bounties to secret treasure maps of the holy worlds, to bound spirits capable of issuing Force prophecies, and even the secrets of immortality, all can be acquired at a steep cost. There is a significant slave trade that takes place in secret, mostly due to conflicting Sith ideologies. Some factions advocate for it while some are deeply against it. Be mindful of the deals you make, lest the seller come to collect far more than your credits.
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Dividers:

Spoiler

Signature Bling:

Spoiler

...More can be added, at request.

Note: The main goal of this thread is to have fun, brush elbows with characters you may not normally get to meet, and enjoy yourselves. As long as you're doing that...You can't go wrong.

 

[Vagabond]

SOVEREIGN PLAZA
OPEN

Sith really did favour atmosphere above all other considerations. Perhaps that simply came with the territory. Red lightsabers, black eyeliners, and a mono-coloured wardrobe that would put the night to shame had a tendency to attract those with a flair for the dramatic and theatrical. But then those very qualityies always made evenings with the Sith thoroughly entertaining. And, he supposed, as a follower of the Sith's Code he had a certain obligation to consider himself something of an estranged brother to the devoted followers of the Order.

In some ways a family reunion, of sorts, had been overdue.

Garrick walked the ruby-lit streets of Kaas City with an open mind and a broad smile. He wore a simple set of slacks, a dress shirt, and a vest, all bespoke. He might have stuck out like a sore thumb among the extravagantly clothed elites of Sith space, or he might have fit right in. He couldn't entirely tell yet, though blending in hadn't really been his goal.

Being noticed wasn't such a bad thing. It was, in his experience, one of the fastest way to make new acquaintances—for better or for worse—and he intended to truly expand his social circle this evening.

 

[Srina Talon]

Tag: [Open]
Location: Sovereign Plaza [Mew Noods]
____________________________________________________

Her head tilted toward the twilight sky.

The storm overhead hadn't broken in the slightest…But at least it hadn't worsened. Gold-hewn orbs lingered on clouds that seemed almost threatening while light threaded itself through the atmosphere. It wasn't wild weather, not furious, but calculated—Like a rhythmic pulse. Like a breath held. Her footsteps led her toward Sovereign Plaza without thought or purpose…She knew what called to them. She knew what power slept in the catacombs.

It was of little consequence.

Dromund Kaas had been the perfect choice to host this event, even though Jutrand had been a steadfast contender. The quiet woman had spent her time weaving invitations that were slipped subtly into the masses. It had been executed in such a way that it would almost appear as if they had thought of the idea themselves. Go to Dromund Kaas. Meet at New Kaas City.

Few would think her capable of putting something like this together, which she agreed with. Srina was not adept in social settings, but she was very well-versed in tactical warfare. If she thought of the Concord like a small-scale war, it all made sense. Which alliances to make, which to break, when to act, when to remain still…These things were agreeable and logical outcomes. The Sith Order had for too long sullied themselves in the mundane. No, not frivolous gatherings with low-born…But in something far more sinister and twice as annoying.

Pettiness.

The bickering amongst them needed to take a holiday lest her wayward murder moppets keep removing years from her lifespan. They needed to be reminded of the reasons they fought, for the reasons they didn't simply roll over for their enemies and let themselves be broken. Most were not like she was. Most did not live in an emotionless and silent void. Most…Needed people. Human interaction. That was how they grew, learned, and started placing the many before the one. This was…A very small step. Very, small.

But necessary.

The wintry woman arrived at the plaza without any heraldry or an escort. It was…Pointless. She didn't require that anyone bow and scrape before her, and it mattered even less when the crown wasn't the focus of any of this. She wore a floor-length cloak of textured charcoal that was stitched with metallic red thread. It could have been confused with circuitry at a distance, but up close, an intelligent mind would see alchemical runes. It kept her signature clouded, her presence, at bay.

The hood was drawn, though lengths of silver hair braided and beaded in gold, settled on her shoulder. The lining was the same crimson as the thread, fitting, for this so-called crimson concord. The weight of the event pressed in from all sides: voices, laughter too loud to be relaxed, the posture of rivals dressed as allies. The little Queen passed between them like a fault line in motion…She cut a path before they even registered her existence. Beneath the cloak, her attire was structured, monochrome, and without decoration. A high-collared traveling dress and gloves that neatly ended at her wrists. Her lightsaber wasn't visible…. But very few would mistake her for unarmed.

Srina did not look up at the holoprojectors spinning banners into the sky, nor toward the stage at the center of Sovereign Plaza. Instead, her attention flicked to the movement of the crowd. Which threads were fraying, which eyes lingered too long, which greetings were rehearsed, and which weren't offered at all. She catalogued rather than engaging. To her…Presence had never required volume.

And so it was that she found herself taking a seat at one of the culinary vendors, listening to music, while trying to decide what to order from the Mew Noods menu. There were more than a few dishes that caught her eye, considering their names, but it was rare that she chose what to eat for pleasure. Normally…It was caloric intake and convenience. Unless Darth Empyrean was ordering in…She could have subsisted on rations and tea. Her voice was soft, but there wouldn't be any trouble hearing her over the boisterous crowd. "I'll have the Joza Perl…."

Eyes of burnished gold squinted at the menu for a moment, both skeptical and curious.

"And the Big Dapper?"

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Madrona A’Mia

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The polished surface of his datapad served as a mirror right before the shuttle landed. Lysander skeptically looked at his reflection, searching for any visible signs after consuming something he'd jokingly called Dagobah chews. If anything, the gesture may have been a testament to the rapport he'd built with the Neti; after all, they were fermented spores from some alien fungi he couldn't even name.

But surprisingly, his eyes looked normal, absent of the familiar hazy gleam.. or the appearance of someone who hadn’t blinked since the Clone Wars.

As he stepped off the shuttle, excitement bubbled up in his chest. Leaving the sand behind for a short trip was thrilling in its own right, as for the past year Korriban had been most of his life.

The teen's attire had been carefully selected; a midnight black tunic, made from silk, was paired with supple leggings and leather boots. It wasn't armor, nor anything suggesting nobility, as Lysander chose it with the intention of blending in. He didn't care about impressing anyone, but a sense of dignity always lingered.

Ironically, he was only a few paces into this foreign planet when his mouth began to feel dry. Any logic or emotional shield he'd worn began to dissolve. What followed now was clarity, focus.. and even a philosophical itch, true to him being a student of House Derriphan.

He liked it immediately.

A genuine smile stretched from ear to ear as his fingers trailed across the datapad screen. With a couple taps, the chart he'd been working on came to life. The younger Sith thrived on data and statistics. “From the last shipment,” he began, scanning the numbers, “nearly fifty percent was purchased by those in House Rakghoul.” It wasn't much of a surprise. Of course, the warriors who underwent rigorous physical training and suffered the most would consume the most. His hand traced the chart. “My homies in Derriphan make up about thirty-five percent. Always solid.” Then, he angled the chin in a way that suggested doubt “House Tu’Kata? Barely fifteen percent.. I’ve been trying to spread more influence in their halls...” his voice trailed off, and a nonchalant shrug followed. “Generalists, my ass. There’s no consistency with them.”

Without missing a beat, he continued in a lower tone. “So, I’ve been thinking of ways to expand business outside of the academy. Or even beyond Korriban.” Perhaps, he had spoken it aloud on purpose, attempting to will it into existence, as like any true manifestation, it needed belief first.

Then strategy.

Letting out a breath, his head tilted to one side, verdant gaze falling over the more humanoid form of the professor, who was still very much a mystery to him at times. But he wasn't looking at her face; instead, he was studying the top of her head. Did any kind of brain grow up there, or any contemplation in that forest?

A cheshire grin twisted just before he bumped her arm with an elbow, in a manner more befitting of a kid brother than an acolyte. His orbs sparkled with mirth. "Hello? Tree lady? Are you even paying attention? Did the local spore colonies here already claim you as one of their own? I wonder what the Sith Code would have to say about that."

 

[Soah Ty’Jyn]

Location: The Concourse
Interacting with: OPEN

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Soah hated this.

Not the Concourse itself, exactly -- that part was fascinating, in a 'smells-like-hot-metal-and-failed-ambitions' sort of way.

But it was the crowds. The packed streets, the sweaty bodies brushing past, the constant thrum of noise and half barked deals echoing off the tightly coiled awnings like battle cries from a dying animal.

The worst part? She couldn't bite anyone if they bumped into her. Not even a good claw to the gullet. Not here. Kasir Dorran would definitely notice if she brought back bloodstains with her pastry tribute.

Hunched shoulders and narrowed golden eyes gave her the general air of a stalking alleycat with a vendetta. Cloaked in a dark charcoal wrap with the hood drawn low, she tried her best to slink along the edges of the merchant stalls, but even her most predatory stealth couldn't save her from being jostled by an overeager Aqualish with a crate of who-knows-what.

Soah growled low in her throat and flattened herself against a support beam, flashing sharp, pointed fangs as her tail twitched under her cloak with barely restrained irritation.

Her tattoos pulsed in response, the subtle black ripples slinking up her neck and around her collarbone, forming sharpedged glyphs that flared briefly before melting back into her skin. The shadowy being tethered to her dusky had opinions. And apparently, it loved the chaos.

Traitor.

Soah sniffed the air. Spice, ink, hot oil, and -- ugh. Yep. That was definitely piss.

"Disgusting," she muttered, wrinkling her nose in acid distaste before ducking beneath a sagging crimson canopy.

Behind it, a oneeyed vendor hawked crystal laced bone charms and cages of softly moaning shimmersilk moths. The sight made her pause, curiosity flaring just behind her eyes. Her credits shifted in the pouch at her hip, earned through weeks of hunting alongside Kasir and not just for show anymore. She was starting to hold her own. And now, she intended to buy something.

...Maybe a charm to anchor the shadow more cleanly? A better saber crystal? A poisoned dagger? Her nose caught the scent of something sticky sweet. Oh, perhaps tribute, maybe? Sith didn't do gratitude... but a good blood tart cupcake could mean more than words, right?

She slinked forward again, gaze drifting toward a tattoo vendor inscribing a crying Twi'lek with something that hummed against the Force like a halfawake beast. The dark script of the shadowy ink over her dusky skin immediately rippled with subtle excitement.

"Not for you," Soah whispered under her breath.

Still, she didn't stop watching.

This place was a maze of shadows and curious curios. But maybe, just maybe, she could leave it with something useful.

...And maybe only three people would touch her on the way through.

That'd be a record.

 

[Sky Wulicailt]

THE CONCOURSE
Tags: Tavian Vale | Sachi Maren | Kaila Irons

Dromund Kaas was a world Sky could look up on, and so she did--massive cloud cover and kisses of lightning. For once in a rare moment, she didn't feel as if she might fall upward into an endless void. It also meant that she didn't need stimulants to help her through the overwhelming fear, and yet another part of her felt she did need them all the same. Her fingers fidgeted.

She looked back down and over to her companions. "After Sluis Van, I wasn't quite sure what to expect... This is different." Wherever she looked, it was different. More orderly. Almost harmonious were it not for the sinister undertones.

The Citadel in the backdrop served as a stark reminder of the kind of world they were on. The captain wondered if this palace was where their Emperor lived. They knew next to nothing about the Sith Order, other than the basic details, and it was by pure chance they caught wind of this gathering and managed to secure a way inside. Tonight was their best opportunity to gather critical intel, but if they weren't careful, it might also be their last.

Vendors were quick to set up shop around them, and a flood of denizens rolled in to pack the streets with bodies and a kaleidoscope of intentions.

Sky switched over to the private, implanted comms she shared with Tav and Sachi. 'High Command gave us a last-minute priority. We need to secure an informant. Someone with high-level access, as close to the power structure as possible. I know it's a sudden change... a big one at that... but they weren't asking.'

In fact, they were subtle enough to suggest that the three of them would be disavowed should tonight go wrong, but she left that detail to herself. No need to distract the others with what-ifs. They would have to be careful, on the sly. If only they could simply approach with a proposition, and that would be it. Might work in the underworld, might work with the bottom feeders. But with the kind of person they needed to find? Unlikely.

 

[Aether Verd]

Assets: Beskar'gam | Basilisk
Darksaber | Resolute Dawn​

SOVEREIGN PLAZA

The storm didn’t rattle him.

It whispered, but Aether had grown up in a place where the earth cracked open with fire and thunder was made by war drums. And still, this sky unsettled something in him. Not because it was dangerous. But because it welcomed danger. Because this was the kind of world where his parents would have flourished.

His father, who had danced with the Dark Side like it was a lifelong partner. His mother, whose blade had been baptized in shadow long before Aether ever knew the word. Even Jonah, ever the sharper edge between them, had long since stopped pretending he wasn’t carved from that same obsidian. They would have loved this place. They would have felt at home.

He did not.

Aether wasn’t forged in ritual, nor pulled from some whispering tomb. He was iron. Tempered in the fires of war, in the screams of fractured foes, and in the blood of the faithless who thought Mandalore would never rise again. Still, he felt like an outsider here. A black sheep from a family of wolves. Good.

The city felt like a snarl cast in stone. Every jagged tower and venom-lit alley spoke the same unflinching truth: we are strong, and we dare you to test it. It was the same truth that lived in the title Darth. It was not a name. It was a challenge. A scream into the Galaxy’s void that the bearer would not bow. That they were the threat others warned their children about.

His ancestors would have risen to that challenge like it was gospel. They would have turned this world upside down just to see what it hid beneath the foundations. But Aether was not here to start a war. Not yet.

He came for something older. Something quieter.

Before he could walk, she carried him. Before he could speak, she sang in lullabies. When he could walk, her blade corrected his own until his footing matched his fury. The dreadlocks he wore now, pulled back from his brow in short, neat sweeps, were not a Mandalorian tradition. They were Echani...hers A touch she left on him before either of them had titles. Before Mand’alor and Empress ever mattered.

She had been present in his earliest memories. A towering shadow with quiet grace and sharper eyes. Family, even if history and duty had etched space between them. Now, that distance shortened with every step.

He entered without fanfare, helmet clipped to his belt, cloak trailing like low flame behind his boots. His armor was matte charcoal, built for battle but carved with elegance. Crimson lined the folds of his cloak, the same tone that bled from the Sith banners overhead. On one shoulder, the sigil of House Verd. On his back, the skull of the mythosaur.

And when he spotted her, the crowd parted like it had rehearsed the moment. Of course she knew he was coming. She always did.

Aether crossed the distance and took the seat across from her like it belonged to him. And for a moment, he let himself smile. Not the cold grin of politics. Not the tight smirk of warriors locked in strategy. Rather, this was warmth personified.

He leaned forward slightly, voice low but unhurried. “Didn’t think I’d come all this way just to watch you eat, Empress.”

The title lingered on his tongue with the same snarky edge he’d always used. Nothing mocking, mind, but rather nostalgia. His words were wrapped in the sharp wit she’d once fostered in him like a second skin. He let it hang there for a moment, studying her through the dim, red glow of the plaza.

So much time had passed. And with it, no end of questions.

He could have mentioned Quinn and shared that they met during a rather entertaining slave auction. He could have asked after the others too, the ones she called children and he had always considered cousins. He could have asked how the Empire treated her now, whether its weight had shifted from crown to yoke.

But he didn’t. There was no need to inventory their absences. No need to run a tally of all the paths time had forked between them. He was here. She was here. That was enough. Instead, Aether rested an hand on the table, gaze still steady.

“You’ve been missed,” he said simply. “How are you holding up?”

Unlike everything about their surroundings, his words weren't political or a scheme. They were just a man asking after someone who once meant the world.​

​

Srina Talon

 

[Asaiah Celwik]

Location: Arcane Court
Tag: Open

Asaiah practically skipped through the streets towards the Arcane court, a gleeful smile on her face as the storm echoed above her.

"The weather is so much enjoyable here than it is on dreary Dagobah, isn't that right Dag?"

"Yessss..."

She turned her head towards the shambling creature following behind her, as it dragged its feet beneath itself. Asaiah no longer had any actual need for Dag as protection, nor to be her left arm. She had finally decided to do a few experiments to regain the use of her arm, and whilst it was still a burnt and scarred mess, she could use it without the pain that once coursed through her nerves. She still kept it bandaged up for now. Of course she had told the creature that if it had disappointed her by the time she had gotten her arm back...She'd dispose of it. The fact it was still here spoke volumes.

The gleeful grin only continued to spread across her face as the woman started to take in some sights of the Arcane Court. This was Asaiah's first real experience with the powers of the Dark Side. Of course she was self taught in some aspects, considering the experiments she had been pulling, but this was the real thing she was seeing around her. The transmutation of flesh to steel...the summoning of the dead...even the blood pacts. Of them all however, the usage of blood was what interested her the most. It appealed to her theories, her research. Turning flesh to metal or using the dead for her own goals wasn't something that intrigued her. Let the dead stay dead. And keep flesh as flesh. That was her opinion.

"I wonder if I should get you turned into some kind of mechanical golem Dag. Could make you far more suitable for guard work. Though I suppose there is something about your...current appearance that is effective at keeping our guests in line. If I wanted a mechanical golem, I might as well make a droid..."

Droids were cold. Unfeeling. Unalive. It wasn't something Asaiah wished to work. She wanted to feel the warmth of her creation, the pulse of their blood flowing through them. It was satisfying. For now, she'd watch the rituals going on. Try to learn as much as she could visually. There was a part of her that wished she headed to the Concourse. Asaiah needed a new blade, not for her experiments but for the use of battle and self protection. She should have taken that Jedi's lightsaber before she had left his body now that she thought of it...but alas, it was pointless. All she had for now was the remains of her broken blade. It was enough to act as a dagger...but she would need to get a new sword soon.

For now, she continued to make her way through the Arcane Court, the giddy grin not leaving her face, nor the manic glee in her eyes. She felt as if today was going to be fun.
​

 

[Aris Noble]

The Arcane Court

He hated how right his grandfather turned out to be.

After Vera Noble actually died, if only for a moment, after seeing more and more people get hurt around him, Aris couldn't bring himself to keep involving them. If even his own sister could be killed on his quest, then maybe it would be worth taking up his grandfather's offer. If they found the Forge, he could find the answer he was searching for.

Destroy it before it would be abused.

Aris idly fiddled with his hair. The dye within it wasn't anything permanent, but it still felt oddly jarring when he saw the black it now was from the corner of his eyes. Like a shadow, closing in whenever he turned his head. Just another of the many children of House Zambrano was his cover, and one that was at least confirmed for the time being. How long Darth Carnifex was going to let that be was up in the air, but so long as Aris was the key to the Forge, he was at least safe enough.

His gaze drifted further. The Arcane Court had all manner of artifacts on display. None caught his eye, since he couldn't actually feel them. Were they something that stained the Force? Would Zaiya Ceti see it as some evil color he didn't know of? Briefly, he frowned. It was a rare thing for him to display emotion, but the truth was he missed her already.

This had to be worth it going alone. He would make it worth it.

 

[Wrathian Kell]

Sovereign Plaza.
Tag/interaction: Open

Days on end. It had taken the young former prince of Korriban days to find it past the Blackwall that encompassed his space, or well what used to be his. Yet nothing was as it seemed, he'd connected to the Holo-net and realized he'd been displaced, not just by location, but time. That would have been rage enough, yet here he was walking the streets of New Kaas city's Sovereign Plaza.

Dromund Kaas was different. The galaxy was different. His home was not his. His friends and family were gone. His throne? Belonged to someone else. The Sith? It was like looking through a glass of water, he saw the foundations of what he knew, but couldn't recognize the rest.

That was enough to cause a fury beyond what most could withstand, yet Wrathian Kell Pureblooded and all walked the streets in tempered wrath. He didn't disguise himself like some were, he didn't wear a cloak, didn't hide his weapons. He strutted, like he owned the place. Though at one time that was true, he also recognized that was no longer the case. Didn't change his demeanor though.

Wrathian was wearing an off black sleeveless tunic with golden trim. His sabers, one blackened metal with electrum accents and the other it's opposite hung from the front of his waist, black hair tied behind his head, and golden piercings strewn across his face. He wasn't subtle, yet he also didn't stand out like a decorated sovereign.

Passing a young boy who was yelling and running around, before tripping over a set of wires next to a stall. Wrathian flicked his fingers and caught the boy setting him upright. "Watch where you step." Yet as he continued he'd realized that piece of advice could probably be applied to himself. While the Pureblood judged the Sith he was seeing it was all contextless. He truthfully didn't know the state of the Order. So he watched.

The thing that caught his ear immediately was a word. "Empress." His golden eyes turned to the young woman, Platinum hair, clothing with alchemic runes and a certain air. Seated across from her. A Mandalorian, his beskar like skin, the air around him however yelled violence. Not in action, but in experience.

Wrathian took his own advice here. Watch where he steps, there was a time and place, this wasn't it. For now, he'd mingle and ascertain what to do, He didn't care about the order, he just wanted his home world back.

Walking past the tables arms behind his back, shoulders held tall, he eventually came upon a wine vendor. A good place to regain some familiarity, or at least he hoped. He took a glass using credits he'd pulled of a Weequay who'd tried to rob him earlier in the week. One hand still flat against the small of his back, pastured next to a standing table and watched the stage for a moment, then people, back and forth bordering on curiosity and paranoia.

 

[Zara Saga]

The Concourse​

Zara arrived on foot.

The storm above cracked like an angry god with a migraine, but she moved beneath it like it was hers. Shoulders relaxed, head high, as if the sky split itself open simply to light her way. She wore no crest of the Diarchy tonight, no entourage, no preening title to make commoners bow or fan themselves. Just a loose, black hooded cloak over a deep crimson dress that hugged her frame and whispered expensive sins with each step. A single chain glinted at her collarbone, a quiet suggestion that she wasn't entirely unarmed.

If anyone noticed her, they didn't recognize her. That was the trick of it. She wasn't hidden, she was unremarkably visible. One more off-world noble come to gawk at Sith theatrics. She played the part perfectly, eyes wide at the architecture, the unnatural stillness of rainless thunder, the impossible angles of Sovereign Plaza's blackened geometry. Zara smiled as if she hadn't memorized every rumor about the place in a palace bath with a glass of something older than most moons.

She paused at a stall draped in snakeskin and dried bone. The scent of iron and jasmine curled in her lungs. The tattooist was working on a Mirialan woman whose skin twitched under the stylus. Alchemical ink glowed faintly as it sank in.

Zara's eyes narrowed, lips curling with delight. "Does it hurt?" she asked the Mirialan, voice silk and smoke.

The woman shuddered but didn't answer. The artist, a Miralukan, met Zara's gaze instead. "Only if you want it to."

Zara grinned like she was home.

@OPEN!​

 

[The Lord of Hunger]

LOCATION: The Concourse
OBJECTIVE: Observe, feed
IMPORTANT LINKS: Sword | Armor | Jewel | Ring | Necklace | DIII Gluttoneria | The guards | The Enforcer
TAG: Her | Zara Saga | OPEN​

Utilizing the RUIN engine on the Gluttoneria just to outright bypass the Blackwall had a serious cost, as in the endless stream of the Nether, the Lord of Hunger had subsisted on the lives of those mortals who had brought along with him, expending energy to stave off the madness which would inevitably come with traversing time at such a crawling pace. Yet as he managed to slip past the dreaded Blackwall, he could allow himself some reprieve in the form of draining the remainder of the RUIN engine's power into himself, allowing his hunger to be sated... for the the time being. His goal was Dromund Kaas, a world he had not been able to enter prior to his defection from the Sith Order, but one whose boundless mysteries still managed to ensnare the monster and draw him back to it. For even if he hated the dogma of the Sith Order, the fethid restrictions that had been holding him back no longer applied to him and though he was still cautious when it came to those who could pose a threat to him, right here, right now, in a place so filled with the force of millions, the lives of billions... it would be quite dangerous and quite foolish to think one had the upper hand against the Lord of Hunger.

His eyes; gold and crimson, inhumanly vibrant behind the pair of shades he wore, looked down upon the dredges of the Sith; the vile wretches who'd lower themselves just to be granted a boon or a blessing at the hand of those they seemed to venerate either in abjugation or devotion. Paupers and fools, thieves and beggars, Dromund Kaas was rife with them, be they the lowest born or those in the highest echelons of power, the abomination did not care for them nor did he pity them. He was here simply because he felt it was a necessity, he felt that there was a reason to be here, a reason to watch over the events and take notice of what was occuring behind the nigh impenetrable Blackwall which had made it quite hard for those of his house to move freely to their home world.

A deep sigh escaped his lips as he moved through alleys with vendors, each more depraved and more despicable than the other, but finally, his eyes caught something. The smell, the stench was...different, the Force itself was different with 'THIS' one, the Sith were perhaps blinded by their own arrogance, but he wasn't. He knew of his own arrogance, his own faults and he acknowledged them, yet as the Lord of Hunger moved closer to this stranger, his eyes turned towards the Mirialan, a dreaded cold, devoid of any feeling or desire would seep out of him, his lips curling into a soft smirk as he closed in on Zara Saga , leaning over next to her to inspect some of the designs which had been displayed. "Suffering pain to merely poison oneself with some shoddy artwork without any benefits... I have seen better artworks in the fleshpits of Korriban, my dear."

 

[War Marshal Helix]

Location: Sovereign Plaza
Tags: OPEN​

Helix's liquid stride carried him easily through the teeming masses that congregated in the plaza, though he was still forced to occasionally shove aside a particularly stubborn (or drunk) local.

Lacking any desire to show off his technology for the natives to gawk at, he'd instead found himself ducking through the crowds to steal a seat away from the general motion of the masses. A simple metal bench, partly tucked into an alleyway away from the traffic.

In time, he'd make his way through the whole affair, see the sights, be a nuisance, maybe steal something. For now, though, it was enough to take in the atmosphere. His privilege, for making it. Some R&R was more than earned at this point.

He'd joined the Third Legion and snatched a command position in less than a day. Maybe his name would be worth something now, at least as more than a general for hire. It wasn't easy succeeding in a Sith's world as not only one not blessed with the Force, but a droid. He gave a mechanical grumble of amusement. It was debatable how much he could still claim to be a droid any longer. He was a thing of metal and logic only when he wished to be, but that didn't make it any easier to claw his way to prestige.

Still, that state came with some advantages. Many overlooked you, most ignored you entirely. That made it very easy indeed to slink around, whispering into the right ears and making friends with the right people. He had fingers in many corners of the Order now, however small. Some of those had already more than paid off their investment. He doubted that Lirka would have been so quick to promote him, had he not displayed an appreciation for her philosophies.

Simple courtesy and a sympathetic ear were so rare in Sith space that utilizing them was practically cheating. Sith hid it well, but at their core, most were utterly broken people, people who needed attention like a fish needed water. All he'd ever done was be helpful and display a faint flicker of empathy for their problems. Helpful, at least, to the ones he liked. And he did like his little circle of misfits. Lirka, Serina, Alisteri, Malum. These and many more, he had wormed into the confidences of. It was partly self-interest, and partly a genuine fascination with the archetype. Maybe it was the old CIS general in him, but he did so adore watching the despised and underappreciated rise to power. He'd keep an eye out for any of his little friends this evening.

He was different, thought differently, didn't immerse himself in the Sith mindset. That was why he'd made the inroads that he had, he was sure. With luck, he'd make some more tonight.

 

[Darth Carnifex]

The Sepulchral had made it's presence known, a hooded and masked priest occupied virtually every space at the Crimson Concord. Deacons in white, blue, red, and black all floated through the crowds like hooded phantoms, their movements silent and otherworldly; whispers of power and shadow following in their wake. Some were the appointed Whisperers who guided the faith of the Empire in total secrecy, pouring blackened words into the ear of this Lord or that Governor, weaving a terrible pattern that only they were privy to.

Others were of a lesser stock, but nonetheless impressive. Sovereign Protectors in bright crimson robes, their faces obscured by sleek scarlet masks. Beneath, armor and hidden weapons, the tools of an assassin or of an enforcer, each one proficient in the art of killing. They stood as silent sentinels, watching carefully over those who tread upon the sacred city of Kaas. Coiling like wound springs they waited, to descend upon any who would interfere with what had been ordained.

Towering above them all was a giant dressed in black cloak gilded with electrum, His face obscured by a sparkling onyx veil. He exuded power and authority than even eclipsed that which unnaturally exuded from the city itself, a shadow cast by a shadow. Even obscured, His identity could not be concealed. They whispered His name as He stalked past, hushed breathy tones that elicited fear, awe, disgust, and worship all at once.

Butcher King.

Black Iron Tyrant.

Rovagug.

Sozeal.

Eternal Father.

Sith'ari.

Names a plenty, each one soaked in a galaxy's worth of blood. Each one a testament to His enduring legacy, one which spanned Empires; generations. A legacy that had wormed it's way so inexorably through the very fabric of the Sith itself, that many could not even envision an Order bereft of His monumental presence. Darth Empyrean was the Emperor, he sat upon the throne and commanded the loyalty of all the Empire, but it was the Butcher King who loomed large in the shadows; an reminder of His influence over the Eleventh Empire.

No guards strode aside Him this evening, the Dark Lord feared nothing that might be lurking within this crowd. Even if it did come to violence, such a thing was sowed into His very nature. He existed on violence, subsisted on the rending of flesh and the breaking of bones. He would be more than eager to see blood spilled this evening. But, for now, the Dark Lord walked onward, a dark horizon in the Force; drawing all that was wicked and monstrous into Himself.

An apex predator.

 

[Kaila Irons]

Location: The Concourse
Wearing: Dress
Tag: Sky Wulicailt Tavian Vale Sachi Maren

Darth Anathemous looked gloomy as ever.

Though her golden eyes shone fiercely even through the crimson haze, the freckled face around them was pulled into a cold frown. The ring that had been slipped upon her finger by another was noticeably absent for the first time since the battle of Woostri.

And the force bond had since gone quiet.

The lord of Echnos processed such pain as she'd always done; pouring herself into her work.

And so she'd come in search of Kaas' black market, armed with the authority of her station, amazonian form, and the knowledge of this great city acquired during her former service to the Dark Lords who ruled here. She'd made threats, bribed the right people, even drawn on old connections to acquire the passphrase and rough idea of where to look.

She strode into The Concourse dressed in the blackest silks, accented in subtly armored materials and bladed shoulders which rose from within her lion's mane.

None dared question as she moved from stall to stall repeating the passphrase to each vendor, they all knew what she was.

But the answers never satisfied her either.

"Through pain, we find clarity." she repeated, passing Sky Wulicailt to approach a nearby vendor.

The vendor looked frightened, confused, just like the last.

"I- I don't understand, I'm sorry my lord-"

The young Darth rose one clawed finger to stop him before the man could begin his panic attack.

"It's quite alright citizen. Just thinking aloud." she sighed.

"Show me your wares."

​

 

[Lyssara Thrynn]

If someone had told me one day that I would stand in the sovereign's place, I would have definitely laughed. Yet here I am, dressed in a black suit with golden trim, having used the solar scepter to land at the nearest station. I'm really not used to coming here too many people, too many important figures. I have to keep a low profile so I don't attract attention. Here I am, walking through the streets toward my rendezvous point.

How did I end up here? Someone contacted me, interested in forbidden Sith knowledge. From what I understood, she's an acolyte from the academy I used to be part of. So I agreed to meet her. I need to socialize a bit too I haven't really left the diarchy much lately. After the clash with EolT, it's understandable. I've done nothing but train, reinforce my weapons, build my lightsaber… I've also gained a reputation as a serious scientist. That's probably why my contact reached out to me.

I yawn politely as I walk among the crowd, dodging a few people who aren't watching where they're going. I lean against a wall with relaxed arms, pull out my holopad, and start fiddling with it while waiting for my contact to join me.

Ah, places like this I hate them. But I understand the stakes well enough. I suppose this is a way of stepping into politics, indirectly. I left Nyva Shei in command of the ship. If I need her, I can always reach her through comlink. I've muted my notifications since she's been spamming me with messages. I'll have to remind her when I get back not to overdo it.

Objective : Sovereign plaza | Tag : Lucette | Open

 

[Mercy]

Location: Sovereign Plaza
Tag: Vagabond

Mercy had her arms full of food. She had been going store to store, picking up this thing here and that thing there, filling up her pockets and any other container with assorted foodstuffs. The Kaggath was physically taxing, so between breaks and rounds, it was crucial to load up on carbs, protein and the green stuff.

She was turning around from yet another store and accidentally walked into Vagabond.

"Oh." She glanced over her snacks to the scarred lad. "You okay there, champ? Apologies, didn't see ya on accounts of all the foods."

A beat.

"You want some? I got a nuna drumstick, some raykkan nuggets, some other stuff." Rummaging around until she got a box of fries and nuna chips. "Here ya go, my treat, buddy."

 

[Varin Mortifer]

Madrona A’Mia Lysander von Ascania Revna Marr

He didn’t talk much on the way to the festival. The sting of his master Revna leaving was still fresh to him, and lately he had been isolated in his training and meditations in the recent jedi temple he started corrupting. Yet here he was now, meditating as the ship broke into the atmosphere of his second sith holy planet he had visited. The invitation he received to The Crimson Concord caught him by surprise, and he figured it was time he got out once again out of his own stupor to try and distract himself, if only for a little bit, taking this opportunity to crew up with A’mia and his co-apprentice Lysander.

He glanced at the hilt of his newly crafted saber. Very reminiscent of broadsword’s hilt, extra weight was added to make up for the lack of an actual blade, heavy metal crossed above the hand in a cross guard, with a sturdy half sphere as the pommel. The finish was a darkened gunmetal and smooth with no ignition switch or button. A craft that was left to him from his family. He then hooked it back on his belt.

The outfit he chose was more form fitting to help with flexibility and for a less likelihood of his clothes getting caught on any annoyance. His torso had some plate over his chest and abdomen while his back had a more flexible sturdy leather. The chest of the plate had his insignia carved into it representing his home, or what's left of it.

The ship landed as everyone left the ship Varin remained for just a moment longer in the quiet as the thunder rumbled in the distance.

Ignati’s voice bled into his mind once the shuttle turned quiet.

Another holy world, It’s scent is so sweet. So much history, so much knowledge, so much……violence. It almost feels like home.

Varin stood up as he took in the very feel of the area, almost as if he invited it in. Smoke spewed from his back taking the shape of a cloak as he stepped off the ship gazing at the area around them. Already the area was filled with unfamiliar faces and voices.

“It’s nice to not have to shake sand out of my boots for once. But this planet feels familiar.”

He glanced at Lysander as he finished speaking with A’mia.

 

[Kurayami Bloodborn]

Location: Sovereign Plaza

Kurayami found himself wandering the Sovereign Plaza in his XC-86 armor, a modified SE-44c holstered on either hip, granted suppressing the signature was not an option, but, he wasn't overly concerned as he was not here to cause any problems, simply to see the sights. He had been to Dromund Kaas in years past, but the intervening decades had certainly been kind to New Kaas City, at least on the surface. He let his sense reach out and search, along with the sensors on his suit, getting a full picture of his surroundings, and just how lively the city was for this event. Beneath the helmet, the Corellian smirked feeling the rush of life and the adrenaline of those who fought, whether it be in the arcades or in person.

Some signatures were familiar to him, and perhaps he would approach them later, but for now he needed food and had always heard good things about Mew Noods. So he would set off towards that area. He removed his helmet as he neared, sipping from his flask as he found a seat at a table, noticing that there were two people speaking nearby, one of which looked strikingly familiar, and the other he could have sworn was the ghost of Isley Verd himself. Well damn, he knew he drank a lot on the flight over but namana liquor never hit him this hard.

Once he had an idea of what he was going to order he approached the cart. "Hey, yea, let me get an order of the S-Talon, and the Cotan. Thanks." Paying he walked back to his seat, swinging a second chair over to rest his feet on after his long walk while he waited for his food. He glanced over at the other two, still unable to shake the feeling he knew them somehow. He shook his head and focused on his food when it was finally delivered.

Srina Talon | Aether Verd | Open

 

[Kasir Dorran]

Soah Ty’Jyn ​

For one such as the Darkseeker, shadows clung stubbornly to his movements. The current pursuit was born not out of obsession or a desire to track; no, it was driven on a whim, like a subconscious pull that defied his true nature.

Threads of skepticism about lingering too long on any of the Holy Worlds besides Korriban were contained; yet here he stood, amidst the bustle of New Kaas' Dark Core. It was also his home once upon a time, a child living on the streets, until discovered by the Inquisitors. But now, decades later, the place felt alien.

His unnatural senses, those of a Sangnir, were sharp, as now everything here threatened to be overwhelming, distasteful even. He caught every scene, every voice, logging every detail without allowing any sentient disturbances.. something that could not be said for the Felacatian nearby.

Kasir's lips twitched ever so slightly as he spotted a silhouette among the stalls; to the trained eye, it might have passed as the faintest smile. But the expression vanished just as quickly as it came. Perhaps, some part of him allowed a touch of amusement, watching her internal battle unfold. She was so different from his own cold precision. For all of Soah's flaws, far from elegant and clumsy in her own lane, she did possess rawness that was real. And beneath all the brooding, he too had glimpsed both hunger and potential

Drawing closer, he was a vision of the night itself; pale, almost ethereal skin, dark orbs absorbing the festival's lights as if drinking from the void he so wished to sleep in now. Raven black hair, tied back with care, framed the planes of his face. Black robes cloaked his lithe frame. Fashion was irrelevant to Kasir; function was king, as it should be for a killer by choice.

By now, he knew better than to step too close at once. Purposely so, he waited just outside of her awareness. If there was one that understood the balance of space and emotion, treading a tightrope, it was Kasir. Pressing too close, too soon, would be a mistake. The same could be said for himself. And unlike most Sith, the assassin was always attuned to her emotional state; though, it was often masked beneath an air of indifference.

Only once he knew his presence was felt, did he step silently alongside her. “You haven't killed any of the vendors. Progress. I’m almost convinced you’re learning how to think,” he murmured, voice low. “I don't believe there is a cure here for what curses you, for you are chaos wrapped in skin and fur. But if such a trinket existed, I would have already given it to you.”

He paused, a moment of silence stretching between them, a gaze so cold it could have cracked bone, studying her. His concept of caring was never uttered, but always in action. If she were in danger, he would step in. The harshness of his training was never meant to be cruel, but out of necessity for survival. And while he tracked her moods, it was never to manipulate, but to understand any fragility that continued residing in Soah.

Glancing around at nearby attractions, he followed all signs that pointed in the appropriate direction. Eventually, his attention returned to her. “Dancing requires rhythm and balance.. both of which you lack. A waltz, I'm afraid, would require too much control. Though I hardly remember it, much like laughter.. I could teach you before that window closes forever.” A single exhale followed. “Or perhaps the Arcane courts. Anywhere of your liking will suffice for me.”