Junction The Divide | TSC & TSO & ME Junction of Carratos, Ank Kit'aar, Sarka | IC

[Mercy]

OBJECTIVE 1: THE WAR COUNCIL
IMMEDIATE TAG: Lysander von Ascania Cassilde Vortayn Aria Talorien Srina Talon Astra Sadow Leontis Antalis
LOCATION: On board the Tyranny

OBJECTIVE TAG: Srina Talon Arris Windrun Quinn Varanin Aether Verd Ivalyn Yvarro Nagual Aria Talorien Lysander von Ascania Cassilde Vortayn Varin Mortifer Helix Adonis Angelis IV Taeli Raaf Gerwald Lechner Amelia von Sorenn Astra Sadow Leontis Antalis Zeptepi Zambrano CT-312 Darth Carnifex Darth Prazutis Siv Kryze Darth Reign Veyla Krinn Dral-Kar'ta Saandyr Lirka Ka Adelle Bastiel Mia Monroe Lily Rhodes Nephthys Nardithi-Verd I am so sorry if I missed anyone needed, tag list BIG CHONK.

"So…I'm afraid your standards are suspiciously low, sestra.", the deadpan quip was met with a phantom curve of the kiss of her mouth

A head tilt there and Mercy leaned in to kiss Srina's cheek. "You sell yourself short, darling. As you always do." And unlike others making compliments, Srina knew that Mercy wasn't simply trying to make her happy. Whilst others might not see the difference between one Echani and the next. The same could not be said for the Empress of the Core.

Her heartbeat, the way her blood ran through her veins, her scent, her breath... all of it was unique.

"You will take my compliment and you will like it. Otherwise I might decide you need to go get some more rest after all." Was this vengeance for the time that Srina had become Mercy's caretaker after Humbarine? No, certainly not. Mercy was not that petty. Except for that evil gleam in her eye... that looked at least a little petty.

"Empress of the Throneworld, Ruler Victorious of Abregado-rae," Astra paused to give the woman a polite bow and flourish of her jacket without letting her eyes fall from the other woman. "Everything is to your specification, I trust? No need met unsatiated?"

Astra had a way with words that pleased the gigantic ego gathered within Mercy's massive frame.

She smiled, predatory teeth exposed, as she inclined her head towards Sadow.

"Chairwoman, as gregarious as always, your executive board must be positively pleased with you. And yes, you did very well stocking things up, thank you, Astra." Then she squeezed Srina's hand and gestured towards Astra and Leontis Antalis when he joined them. "Astra Sadow and Leontis of House Antalis, darling." Murmured in her ear. "They were instrumental in capturing the spaceport being used to evacuate the civilians."

Her attention returned to the duo in front of them.

"Just as your executive board, I have been very pleased with the both of you. Seek me out after the War Council... you will find that I always reward those that serve me well. Until then... enjoy the gathering and do try to stay out of trouble. Don't do anything I wouldn't do." Her eyes gleaming at that. Everyone here knew that if anyone caused trouble for fun it was Mercy.

Her attention shifted briefly to Cassilde Vortayn strolling away to merge into the crowd. Then to Aria Talorien . "Keep an eye on my cupbearer, Aria. Any hints of sedition... I expect you to be truthful with me."

"I think…We did well, sestra."

Mercy nodded and smiled. "We did, didn't we? Let's greet our people before we retire for the war council."

___​

They cleaved through the crowd of gathered warriors, Sith and Mandalorians alike, until they reached center from which they'd be seen and heard by all in the room.

"We have not seen a gathering like this in a long time." Mercy called out once the crowd quieted down before the two Sith Empresses. "Sith, Mandalorians, rulers and lords, warriors and destroyers. Our way is war. Our hunger for blood unmatched." Amber eyes ran along the crowd, taking it all in, soaking in the attention.

Once upon a time she had been nothing more than brawler in the fighting pits of Nar Shaddaa. Fighting for glory, for cash and for vanity. The Mercy of then would never have imagined herself here, now, next to her sestra... gathering the strongest and most powerful of the Galaxy together... to try and forge an alliance that would make the Galaxy tremble.

No wonder her ego was the size of the Tyranny itself.

"But we have division. There is uncertainty between the Sith of the Order and the Sith of the Covenant." Her eyes met Aether Verd through the crowd and rested there.

"And the genocide of Mandalore, five decades ago, casts a shadow over Sith and Mandalorian relations ever since. But even with everything that divides us, we have more that unites us. We have the same enemies. Imperial blight. Renegade scum. Jedi heresy. Even the Mandalorian Empire has had to root out the Lighbringers in Hapes... and they will not stop, not unless we stop them ourselves."

Mercy plucked one of the flutes of drinks, comical in her large hand, and raised it to the crowd.

"Celebrate today, mingle, make plans for the future. And if I have my way, by the end of the day, there will be an agreement that will make the Galaxy quake in their fucking boots."

She swallowed the alcohol and gave Srina Talon a moment to add anything she'd want.

Only then breaking away to join the Sith Order and the Mandalorian respresentatives in the private room.

__​

SO representatives: Srina Talon Quinn Varanin Lirka Ka Gerwald Lechner Taeli Raaf
ME representatives: Aether Verd Mia Monroe Adelle Bastiel
SC representatives: Arris Windrun Mercy

On the way there, she noticed Arris Windrun , Lily Rhodes and Quinn Varanin - it made her happy that her friends were all getting along. Mercy would have to ask about how that was going later.

Her presence entered the room before she stepped foot inside. It was like the pulse of her heartbeat, each time a tide rolling off of her, the Dark Side flooding out from her.

Before sitting down in her chair, Mercy pulled the one next to her out for Srina, only once her sestra was seated... would the Covenant Lord sit down herself.

"Apologies for the wait. Duties of the host... but welcome, to all of you. Some I know, some I hope to get to know soon enough."

.

 

[Brool Koon]

Brool didn't need an explanation to feel the Force echoing from deeper in the tombs. What he did need an explanation for was the darkness that rode along with that echo. He nervously looked down toward the beast that stood guard over the young woman. It didn't look like any of the dogs they had back on Dorin, or even the creatures he had encountered while attending the various Jedi academies across Republic and Alliance space. It was something darker, darker like the pull of the tomb before them. Brool wasn't sure if the two were connected, but something told him he was better off not finding out the hard way.

It started as a ghostly sound, almost like someone saying his name but from much further away. Far enough away that he could ignore it at first, but it kept getting closer. As he made his way through the tombs, and especially once he found the Dark Sider and the Mandalorian, it had grown impossible to ignore. It now felt like someone was whispering directly into his ear, whispering things that only Brool should have known. His name was one thing, but then came places he remembered, pieces of conversations, and finally a voice whose cadence he knew well enough that he refused to acknowledge it.

The Padawan wasn't sure what kind of trick of the Dark Side this was, but he was positive it had its roots in something malevolent. Whatever was speaking to him wanted his attention, and for now Brool was determined not to give it any more than it had already taken. Nysa broke Brool from his spiral when she produced the crystals. After the time he had spent being abused by the Sith, he was not quick to trust something handed to him by one. Though his energy was too low to properly examine the item with the Force, the Kel Dor could at least rely on the Mandalorian's intuition. If he accepted, then Brool would as well.

He watched Sylor for a moment before reaching out to take one for himself.

There was no sense in working against himself. If he wanted to live, he would have to accept help from things much darker than Nysa.

TAG: Nysa Veilwalker Sylor

​

 

[Adonis Angelis IV]

The chaos and noise of the main hall drowned out anything over Adonis's comms. It felt like floodgates opened and everyone entered the fray. Some of the Sith faces were familiar, some of them were not, and a lot of them were hidden by masks. It was almost comforting for Adonis, he didn't feel out of place wearing his buy'ce like he did when he went to most non-Mandalorian events. Not that he would consider anything about this evening 'comfortable'.

When he realized the other Mandalorians were tied up in their social responsibilities, the Warden decided he would just people-watch. Even if there was promise of peace, a Mandalorian wasn't truly content unless he had a headcount of everyone in the room. So he started counting. There were enough bounties in this room for someone to retire their grandkids' kids if they collected. He figured no one in this room, or likely the entire galaxy, was stupid enough to attempt that bounty, however.

The size of some of the Sith Lords was impressive, enough that even seven feet of armored Adonis felt a little below average standing among them. They would never be able to read that from his body language, however. Even through his beskar'gam you could see his back was straight and his shoulders relaxed. He had the posture of someone who had been raised to do this kind of thing.

Turns out, underneath that wardog's collar was a pedigree coat.

Shortly after the rest of the leadership arrived, their hostess called everyone's attention. Mercy and Srina Talon stood together at the center of the hall. Combined, they held a gravitational pull akin to standing inside a sun. Ironically, what radiated from them could be called anything but sunshine. There was a power that choked the air in the room. It pulled eyes away from conversations and drowned every other voice into silence. Calling their presence dark would be a disservice to what they truly were- wrecking balls.

Through all the flash and boasting, Mercy spoke to something Adonis hadn't heard anyone say outside of his own people.

the genocide of Mandalore

The words that followed that didn't register to the Warden. He was still trying to process that he had heard those words come out of the Empress of the Core- let alone while standing next to the Empress of the Sith Empire. Quickly, Adonis scanned the room for Aether Verd , wanting to see the Mand'alor's reaction.

If there was any hope for an agreement between the three powers, this was a hell of a way to introduce it.

__________________
​

Soon the speaking picked back up, with a new topic to gossip about, and Adonis was interested in what he could hear. So he decided to make his way through the crowd and see if he could tell what people were saying about it.

TAG: OPEN

​

 

[Kurayami Bloodborn]

Mercy | Srina Talon | Quinn Varanin | Aether Verd | Ivalyn Yvarro | Nagual | Aria Talorien | Lysander von Ascania | @Cassilde Vortayn| Varin Mortifer | Helix | Adonis Angelis IV | Taeli Raaf | Gerwald Lechner | Amelia von Sorenn | Astra Sadow | Leontis Antalis | Zeptepi Zambrano | CT-312 | Darth Carnifex | Darth Prazutis | Siv Kryze | Darth Reign | Veyla Krinn | Dral-Kar'ta Saandyr | Lirka Ka | Adelle Bastiel | Apologies to any i may have missed this is the tag list I knew of

ABOARD THE TYRANNY

The decloaked 'Huxian' was a sleek, ship that was clearly of a TIE interceptor lineage. As Kurayami set it down in the designated landing bay, he listened carefully as the engine arrays spooled down and the hum of the other systems slowly retreated. Sure, the displays could tell him all he needed to know so far as the status of everything, but there was also a sense he had after having handbuilt and maintained the thing over many years. Each tick of the power couplings as the power came online or went offline told him whether or not the ship was ready or needed work still. Today it was the former. She was still ready after Thyferra's bloodbath. a slow smile played over his face as the ramp lowered finally. As he exited he leaned down and zoomed in with his cybernetic eye on a small area of the hull. "Those bastards scratched the paint! Damnit!" Because clearly that was worth the upset [[::R6, place an order wiwth Auaraxis for touch up paint to be sent to the Tyrrany so we can get this sorted.::]] A negative beep followed by the Astro mech bumping his leg from the side a reminder of 'hey down here.' A rapid fire string of whistles later. [[::Fine, if you have some to do the job then do it, and make sure it is perfect. I have a meeting to get to.::]]

The man inside the armor was not anyone overly impressive, and caried only a single lightsaber and two modified SE-44C heavy pistols, not like many of the titans in this room. Yet the presence in the Force was one that was undeniable. The eye of a storm, tinged with the feel of the Netherworld, and yet no one side dominated. As he stood in the middle of the gathering he scanned the crowd, picking out those whom he recognized amongst the crowd gathered. It seemed there were many, some of whom he had not expected to see here. Aether Verd, Mand'alor the Iron, his nephew. Ivalynn Yvarro, Grand Vizier of the Imperial Commonwealth of Dosuun and more family of his, part of him wanted to say niece but he always got confused if it was that or grand-niece officially. He shrugged it off and continued scanning the crowd, Srian Talon. Epress of the Eleventh Sith order now, and one of his oldest and most beloved freinds, closer than many whom he had considered family before. That was all the family or at least closest to family he recognized off the cuff. There may be more that he wasn't picking up right away, but there were still many others he recognized from previous gatherings and he now realized an interesting truth.

This was no mere social gathering. This was to figure out a path forward. He had deep ties in two of these three factions represented. That made him wonder, would he be forced to represent a single interest in the discussions? If so which side would he represent in the end?

 

[Ives]

Corpo Datahive, Corpo City, on Planet Corpo (Abregado Rae)

The Rodian's blood dripped with a steady tap, tap from Ives' wrench. A green pool of it had accumulated on the floor. More had painted Ives' face and uniform. The first thing he really noticed about it was how cold it was. He'd worked on Rodians before, the cold blood wasn't anything new. This Rodian--no visible breathing, apparent heavy blood-loss, critical condition--wouldn't be making it.

Ives scanned the hallway. No one else was present, nor did he hear any footsteps. The walls were intact, no immediately obvious sources of danger he could identify anywhere. The dimly lit greys appeared more vibrant than they had earlier. He knelt to take the Rodian's pulse.

The wrench clinked as it touched the floor, and Ives grimaced. He noted he was still breathing heavily. He did his best to steady himself, to not misread the pulse, but even through a strong tremble, when he touched the Rodian's wrist there was nothing. Not even a faint pulse, just nothing at all.

"RNI," he whispered.

He hadn't fallen back on med-tech terminology in a while. There was no reason to go through the procedures with the Rodian, not really. He knew that.

Ives let the wrench clatter to the floor. His mouth was dry. He had more trouble standing up again than he should have. His feet carried him down the corridor, around the corner, and back into the alley. He'd fished out a cigarette and lit it. The first drag tasted like acrid dust. He coughed as he exhaled, then puked.

// cue the interlude

 

[Tobias Dib]

Objective: 3
Tags: Seren Gwyn

One giant hand moved to his belt and retrieved the hilt of his great saber. While the enlarged blade would typically be more difficult to handle for an average-sized person, he was anything but. Nearly seven feet tall without his armored boots, with shoulders the size of a door and a girth of two hundred and fifty pounds, Tobias was anything but average. His hair swayed freely to his shoulder pauldrons as he turned his glowing blue eyes to the woman beside him and listened to her words.

"Titles are irrelevant. They speak to positioning and not the character of the person. You didn't surrender to a Jedi. Nor did you to a Sith. I am neither. The same could be said of yourself." One hand on the lip of the raised sarcophagus, he lightly vaulted into the casket and descended toward a portal writhed with green and red energy.

His words drifted over his shoulder as he paused on the step above the portal. "The galaxy tries to put everything into columns because it is easier to understand something that is labeled. A title is only shackles that try to define and limit you. Break the shackles, Seren. Do not allow others to limit who you are. Then you will be free." First one boot, and then the other, stepped across the plane separating the physical world and the Nether Realm. His body grew cold as he crossed. Icy needles froze and burned his nerves as he walked down the stairs. When his head passed through, his eyes beheld a wasteland of sand and bones.

Long strides carried him to the earth, and he paused to turn, watching Seren appear between two totem poles of obsidian that pulsed with green energy. The stairs were nowhere to be seen. The skies were dark grey, red streaks of energy forked across the cloudless heavens. A low chuckle was allowed to rattle in his chest. Not the heavens. The belly of hell. The dunes to his left were windswept, a hot breeze that felt like the exhale of a demon—putrid stench, moistly hot, and unpleasant. To the right was a forest. Not trees, but upthrust spires that held black growth along their surface. Some form of vegetative lifeform that pulsed as it slithered across unnatural stone composites.

Directly ahead lay two enormous mountains; a dark valley filled with black mist nestled between them. A fortuitous placement in the Nether. He would find what he sought in each biome. The Sith troopers came after Seren, their number enlarged to thirteen. A good number, Nemesis mused silently. He shifted his stance in the soft sand, looking toward the dunes of despair. "Troopers. Stay, defend the gate, and wait for our return." His gaze fell on the woman beside him.

"In this place, the dead do not hide. Here, they are the predators, and we are the prey. But they are unaware that today, the prey wants to be found." His long strides began to consume the distance as he walked with purpose toward the Dunes of Despair.

 

[Lyssara Talis]

The earth had opened.

Lyssara stood near the edge of the rupture, silent beneath a sky still scarred by what had befallen Abregado-rae. Far below, ancient stone emerged from between broken shelves of earth, architecture that by all accounts had no reason to exist here. The shifting of the continent had torn away whatever had concealed it, leaving broad stairs descending toward a structure that had apparently waited beneath the surface for longer than anyone knew.

To most, that would have been the strangest thing about it. It wasn't.

Long raven hair stirred gently behind the Miraluka as she stood before the descent, dressed in black with the familiar velvet covering bound across the empty wells where her eyes would be. Intricate Dathomiri symbols had been worked into the sable cloth, nearly invisible until the light caught them just so. She made no effort to remove it as her attention remained fixed upon the darkness below.

The Force painted the world differently for Lyssara. Stone and earth were merely shapes within something infinitely larger, while the people preparing for the expedition behind her burned brightly with the unmistakable presence of life. Beyond them stretched the wounded landscape of Abregado-rae and the scars left upon the Force by its destruction.

Ahead was something else, and Lyssara tilted her head slightly. The Netherworld had a presence she knew intimately. She had walked beneath its strange skies, listened to the whispers of its dead, and learned at the feet of a woman who had belonged among them. Even after returning to the realm of the living, some small part of that place had never entirely released its hold upon her.

What she felt below wasn't unfamiliar. That was precisely what intrigued her. She descended the first few steps, the soft sound of her boots against ancient stone disappearing into the opening. One hand drifted along the wall beside her, fingertips brushing dust from markings exposed for the first time in untold years. She lingered over them briefly before withdrawing her hand.

No Sith presence should have existed here, yet someone had built this place; perhaps more importantly, something had revealed it now. A faint emerald flame appeared above Lyssara's palm. It burned without heat, casting sickly green illumination across the stone as she continued several steps farther before stopping at the threshold. Beyond it waited a passage swallowed almost completely by darkness.

The flame bent toward it.

Not with the movement of air.

Toward it.

Lyssara watched the reaction quietly before closing her fingers around the flame and extinguishing it.

"Interesting."

The word was spoken softly, and to herself she. Without concern, she stepped into the darkness; she was shaped by the nether; only those who couldn't see needed to fear the dark.

Tag: Rorie | OPEN