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

[Her]

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"Every girl has her fixation. You hack people, I hack time..."
-- Her in conversation with Darth Virelia .

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Dromund Kaas, Thandon Star Cluster, Sith Worlds;
THE CRIMSON CONCORD.
Tags: Darth Carnifex | Parvati | The Lord of Hunger | Darth Virelia

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SOVEREIGN PLAZA.

My mind is a Sunless space.

A survivor of the ONE SITH WARS traversed Sovereign Plaza under the veil of a hooded dark robe which concealed her facial features and obscured her presence among a sea of people as they went about their business in this most audacious of spectacles. Strands of dark hair intermixed with blonde were the only revealing features of this enigmatic woman as she walked aimlessly through the plaza like a warrior fortifying themselves upon the eve of battle.

As the Sepulchral made their presence known Her did well to stay out of their reach with her powers in the Force drawn inwards so as to avoid persecution from them and their indomitable, eternal father-- the Butcher King-- DARTH CARNIFEX.

Nearby her associates conducted their business accordingly as seeds of a brand new conspiracy-- borne out of the destruction wrought by the Fifth Wing-- had taken root across the galaxy. No doubt Kakus would have enjoyed these festivities-- not for the spectacle of this abdominal Sith Order-- but for the very power of the dark side of it was so strong here in the Force, Her thought. In time she would gather with the others that they had recruited to discuss avenues of commerce, trade, politics and brokering of information amid the organisations, factions and galactic spanning governments that they had occupied to suit her agenda, but it was not them that occupied Her's mind as she walked in a slow, brooding fashion through the plaza.

It was Him.

The dreaded BLACK PYRAMID had since been deconstructed and it's memory consigned to the history books as the decadent Jedi hoped for it's meritocratic legacy to be forgotten about in the near five decades since the end of the Sith occupation of galactic centre. Yet one of it's prisoners walked the streets of Kaas City with thoughts transfixed upon the man-- neigh, the entity-- who had brought about it's construction in the first place.

Thus it shall not be forgotten. Not while Her lived.

Eight hundred long days consigned to one of the worst places in the entire galaxy had transformed the Knight of the Old Republic into what she was today. THE NOMAD had once told her, as he taught the old Knight in the ways of the dark side, that it was through destruction that they would breed creation. Would Carnifex have agreed with him? Although his face was concealed beneath the onyx veil, and as time itself had been humiliated as he traversed through it all in what felt like eons, there was no doubt it was him-- her fixation, her goal, all that she had seeded and sowed to chase which had seen the fall of the Empire of the Lost and generations of Tionese annihilated in the wake of His symphony of destruction at Tion.

The Eggman had not been able to destroy Him at Felucia and the Empire he had usurped in order for the Kilran Dynasty claim at the turn-of-the-ninth century had been scattered into the solar winds back into the old Tion Hegemony at the Siege of Tion. Her enemy was too strong for them-- His reach far and his scope untethered to any mortal coil. Two years later a new Imperial Confederation stands among the ruined halls in lands scarred by the Ashlan Crusade and fall of His NINTH SITH EMPIRE-- set to begin again under the machinations of a woman he had ruined.

Across the plaza Her caught sight of their adversary as they traversed this CRIMSON CONCORD. She did not stop to stare, or follow the Black Iron Tyrant. It was enough to merely glimpse upon the visage to fortify her soul and eradicate any lingering doubts about her own crimes. Two years of conspiracy had wrought so much destruction, death and pain upon the Outer Rim Territories. Yet it all paled in comparison to what He had achieved.

A Jedi died in that cell, and what came after was awful, monstrous and calculating...

Plotting in the shadows...

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[Niysha]

Where: A slightly secluded part of Sovereign Plaza
Who: Darth Virelia and her inspiring personal growth
What: Loompilled, lurkmaxxing.

It took Serina more than a few minutes to settle down back into something resembling the woman Niysha had met and thrown in her lot with. She was already pretty theatrical at the best of times, and being on Kaas in the midst of the most maudlin performances in the galaxy was clearly not doing her any favors on the "talking like a human person" front. In private it was pretty easy to translate her obtuse babble, but her vibe had turned distinctly hostile since they'd met up downstairs.

Fortunately, when Serina touched her chin and moved closer, Niysha felt like she could relax a little. The actual physical contact had nothing to do with it; Serina was absolutely terrible at tiny affectionate gestures. It was something they'd both have to work on. On the day she managed to ambush Niysha was a hug from behind, they'd mark the calender and celebrate it like an anniversary. Instead, it was the general tonal shift.

Yes, general tonal shift *behind all of the melodramatic babble and absurd purple prose, but still. That was progress enough for Niysha to relax a little.

With a slightly more easy smile, Niysha fixed her hair a bit. "Then I'll be with you all evening. It's as simple as that."

There was no doubt in Niysha's mind that Serina would chalk it up to "loyalty" or some equally useless nonsense. She was a work in progress. Pajamas and holoflicks would have to wait until they weren't a half-hour's walk from multiple blood orgies.

For the moment, she fixed her unruly mess of hair - pulled back in the neatest ponytail she could manage just for this event - and offered a gentlemanly bow for the Sith Lord whose presence she was graced with/in awe of/whatever was appropriate for the thick, heavy script that Serina was working from.

"Though I'd like to know what's on the schedule if at all possible, my Lord. I doubt you'd waste your whole evening standing imperiously in a shadowy corner when there are so many matters that you have to attend to." And, potentially, that Niysha could help with. Serina was a crippling workaholic and taking some of the burden off her shoulders might help her chill the tiniest little bit, please.

 

[Adean Castor]

TAG: Aris Noble

For one who often drifted in the circles of alchemy and scholarship, Adean was only vaguely aware of the power that emanated from the artifacts around her. It was like living with a veil perpetually pulled over her eyes. She could tell that something was there just beyond the surface of each item, could practically hear some of them calling out to be used, but the specifics of each and therefore the very real danger some of them presented went unheard.

She was fortunate, she mused, to have not had this sight before, only for it to be taken away. While her senses were untrained and that itself was a complication that sparked annoyance more than anything, it was better in her mind to not know over being keenly aware of what she was missing.

Therefore, it was a combination of reading what descriptions were available along with the people nearby, that told her more as to what items were what. A look of cool curiosity was safe. A look of panic was a toss-up between something she should absolutely avoid and something worth investigating further. A sly smile, especially from the shop owner, saw her turning her back on an item

She wasn't alone among the items. Another dark haired youtth looked almost as if he would pass as related to her. No, not to her, to the name she pretended to hold.

Well, this could get bad.

 

[Darth Virelia]

"Foreboding."

Tags - Niysha

Virelia's response came slowly.

Not out of hesitation—never that.
But because she enjoyed the moment.

Niysha's bow, her little smile, the stubborn effort she put into tugging her hair back into place despite the chaos of Kaas's atmosphere—it was all so absurdly endearing. Serina Calis, once upon a time, might have laughed gently, offered some wry compliment, pulled her in for a kiss and mumbled something sarcastic about dignity being overrated.

But Virelia?

She admired it. Like art. Like ritual. Like the still-beating heart of something rare and self-contained, vibrating beneath the surface of her dominion.

The storm in her spine quieted. The impulse to perform, to dominate the skyline, to sculpt fear into obedience—receded.

Because Niysha had chosen to stay.

And Virelia, unlike the fools who stalked this city in borrowed power, knew the value of a choice.

She watched the bow without interruption, then stepped forward once more, reaching out with slow, deliberate movement. Her gloved fingers smoothed a single, invisible line along the front of Niysha's collar—as if straightening it, or perhaps claiming it again, gently. Nothing more.

"You look like someone who belongs beside me," she said softly.

Not a compliment.

A statement of fact.

She let her hand fall, resting it briefly at the center of Niysha's chest, just over the uniform's hidden plating. Her touch was light, but the weight of her regard was anything but.

"I won't lie to you," she continued, voice lower now, more personal. "There's nothing important planned for tonight. Not in the way you're thinking. No assassination. No backroom bargain. No secret ritual to tear open time and retrieve the bones of some forgotten god."

A pause.

"Yet."

The faintest flicker of a grin passed her lips. It didn't stay. It never lingered. But it was there—alive and aware.

"I came to be seen," she admitted. "To remind the ambitious that I still breathe. To walk through the center of power and make everyone here ask themselves why they weren't invited to speak with me."

She glanced out toward the edge of the terrace, where Sovereign Plaza churned in crimson haze and ritual sound. Holoprojectors shimmered with sigils. The air tasted of ionized blood and overpriced incense. Somewhere in the distance, a duel erupted beneath a sculpted arch—neither combatant important, but their performance loud enough to demand temporary reverence.

"I find it all amusing," she murmured. "And beneath me."

She turned back, eyes burning softly. "But not you."

She reached up again, this time unfastening the outer edge of her cape. It came loose with a whisper of synthweave and weight, sliding across her shoulder to hang off one arm. Her armor beneath gleamed with that strange fusion of cruelty and beauty—obsidian curves over biostructural symmetry, runes pulsing like restrained lightning.

"You're right. I am a workaholic," she said, tone surprisingly dry. "And if I had any true obligations tonight, I'd already be halfway through them, dragging you behind me like a mobile database."

She stepped closer, hand sliding around Niysha's waist again—an intimate gesture now, slow and familiar, not meant to dominate, but to share.

"But tonight," she whispered, "I've decided to indulge. I've given myself permission to exist."

A soft exhale. A rare confession.

"And it turns out that being seen beside the one person in this city who isn't faking a damn thing might be the most efficient act of power I could display."

She shifted her stance slightly, angling Niysha toward the edge of the balcony with her, their bodies aligned but not locked. The position was casual—but the message was unmistakable.

This is mine. This walks with me. This is not a tool. This is a presence.

"I have no itinerary," Virelia said at last. "Which means the night is yours. Do we wander and let the city tremble when it realizes I'm enjoying myself? Do we slip behind curtains and eavesdrop on ministers plotting irrelevant coups? Do we stand here like statues and let them wonder if I've come to pass judgment?"

Her voice turned lower. Closer.

"Or... do we simply vanish again, you and I? Take a shuttle to the upper garden ring, drink something expensive under artificial stars, and pretend for one hour that I'm not writing a new gospel in the blood of the old world?"

A pause.

Then, with a touch more edge—teasing, but heavy with promise:

"I'll follow your lead for a little while, my officer. Consider it an extremely limited privilege."

She didn't look away from Niysha. Didn't blink.

"You get to decide what kind of evening I have."

A final touch—her knuckles brushing Niysha's jaw again. This time with a kind of…affectionate patience. A small reward. A reminder of restraint, of interest, of the quiet tension that had always lived between them like a shared weapon.

"But I warn you," she murmured, smiling just enough to make it dangerous.

"Don't abuse it."

 

[Veradun Sharr]

Tag: Darth Nefaron // Eurydice
Location: The Sovereign Plaza​

This wasn’t the first time Veradun had been to the Sith holy world of Dromund Kaas - but this was certainly a better visit than the last one. This time, he was walking with his Master with his chin lifted, pale eyes searching the various individuals and sights that were around them all, and practically soaking in the deep, raw power of the darkside that permeated everything here.

Today, he was dressed in far finer clothes than what he was used to; tailored black trousers and tunic and draped from his shoulders was a cloak of black fineweave and icy blue satin along the edges. His black hair was trimmed from its usual mop, shaved on the sides and left a touch long on top, and the faintest scent of cologne drifted from his shadow - enough to catch one’s attention but not overwhelm the senses. He had grown taller and was truly changing appearances as he shifted from boy to man - and though his body maintained its lean appearance, underneath the clothes was a body hardened from rigorous training. Hanging at his side, mostly hidden in shadow, was a lightsaber hilt, the one his Master had given him on their recent excursion into the galaxy. Though Veradun wasn’t a fan of lightsabers, he nonetheless practiced as much as he could with it - as much as with any weapon he wished to master.

On the other side of Darth Nefaron walked the newest addition to their retinue - the Seer girl that Veradun had kidnapped in their attack on Ukatis. The young Nagai had kept his eye on the frightened girl when she had first arrived, and any time they were together with their Master. She would catch him staring at her with his pale and piercing gaze, unnervingly so. Veradun had felt a touch of…suspicion…when he heard that she was to take her place as Nefaron’s other apprentice.

It made her a rival, but one that he did not do anything with yet. She had a purpose to play, at least for the time being.

But there was something else beyond the suspicions. A curiosity, an interest. Though his Master made it very clear his opinions on connections with others, it still did nothing to take away the fact that the boy was becoming a man, and he was still beholden to the hormonal changes that came with such transformations and adjustments. Veradun wanted to get to know her a little better…away from the prying eyes of the Dark Lord.

Veradun hardly paid any attention to Darth Nefaron as he commented about the spectacle around them; he already knew how his Master felt about the Sith enjoying one another’s company, pretending to be social while also planning to stab each other in the backs.That a great game was seemingly being played - one that they all would have to play as well.

The Nagai took the communicator his Master handed to him, before the shrouded corpse of a man sent them both on their way to explore and be away from his direct oversight.

Finally, a break. Came the thought in his mind as he turned his attention to the girl, Eurydice. Both Sith apprentices bowed to the Dark Lord, before Veradun stepped away and - with a smooth motion - slipped his arm around that of the girl’s and guided her away from the Sith Lord. He didn’t speak a single word to her, not until they were well out of earshot of their Master, before he released her and gave them both a bit more room to breathe. He could feel just how nervous she was of him, the fear practically bled from her with each breath she took.

“You know…revealing so much fear in a place like this is dangerous, Eurydice. The weak bleed their fear before their betters, and are devoured by them.” He cast a cold glance at her, briefly taking in the gown that she had chosen to wear to this event. It did suit her, if he did say so himself. But he did not comment on it, instead he continued on with his train of thought, his voice cold and blunt. “You are an apprentice to a Dark Lord now. Behave like one.”

He turned his gaze away from her to look around the Plaza that they found themselves in; banners adorned nearly every surface, announcing the undeniable and arrogant supremacy of the Sith. Music of various kinds flooded in from various directions, as did the scent of different food vendors. The whole scene played homage to the hedonistic pleasures that Sith could divulge in, if they so desired.

Perhaps…it would be a good place for the two to get to know one another a little better, and perhaps scheme and plot against their Master. Pale eyes returned to Eurydice, and a faint half smile crossed his pale and roguishly handsome face.

“Relax - you need not fear me.” Not yet, anyway. “We are in the same place, servants to that creature.” He paused for a moment, before a curious frown creased his brow. “Are you hungry? I don’t know if you are but I certainly am…and besides, it gets us away from that corpse of a man.” Veradun made a show of shuddering in distaste, hoping that such a gesture and his words would be enough to persuade her to join him, and perhaps even get the girl to open up and allow conversation to transpire between them.

 

[Lyssara Thrynn]

The Sovereign Plaza is overflowing with life. It's the kind of evening where the air feels charged not from the sky, which tonight is unusually calm but from the crowd itself. Too many people. Too much movement. Laughter bursts from different corners, glasses clink sharply, and a court ensemble plays dark, elegant chords from a discreet platform. Around me: well-dressed officials, ceremonial-robed apprentices, Sith Lords with rigid posture all blending into a dense current of voices, ambition, and veiled tension. It's a celebration, yes, but an Imperial one elegant, coded, and always simmering.

I hate it.

I stand apart, leaning against a pillar of raw obsidian, arms crossed, straight-backed, trying to be invisible. Conversations slide past me. The laughter grates. Each time someone walks too close, I have to stop myself from pulling away. I agreed to this meeting, yes but I never said it would be easy.

When I see you Lucy, and Viers moving through the crowd, it's like a breath of still air in the noise. You're just as I imagined: composed, ambitious, standing tall, but with a nervous edge you haven't quite hidden. Viers seems quieter, more measured. I push off the wall, my heart beating a little faster for no clear reason. I take two steps forward. No more. My gloves are damp. I speak quickly, before I have time to second-guess myself.

I say, voice steady but reserved:
"Lucy Raaf… Viers. Thank you for coming, so what can i do for you two? You want me here, i am here. "

I nod once. No smile. But I meet your gaze my way of saying: I'm here. I made the effort.
Lucette Viers Connory