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

[Ketra Tepesh]

Objective tag: Objective 3
Tag: Darth Carach

"Ketra Tepesh, My Lord", she replied with a practiced curtsy.

"Unfortunately, my instructors haven't yet seen fit to teach me the Old Tongue", as a frown briefly passed over her face.

"If this door requires blood, then so be it." Focusing the Force into her right palm, she began to coax the largest shard of cracked datapad screen out of its socket before running it deliberately over an uncovered patch of her upper left arm. The shallow gash left by the improvised transparisteel blade felt only like a dull chill at first, but it soon became searingly hot as the wetness of Ketra's blood started to slowly ebb forward.

A smile flitted over Ketra's lips while she began to coalesce the blood from her arm into a small crimson ball, mouthing the tenets of the Sith Code to herself as she went.

With a flick of her wrist, the sanguine orb flew from her shoulder to what appeared to be the keyhole, meeting no resistance on its short journey. Steeling herself, Ketra dropped to one knee in an unhesitating act of genuflection and bowed her head. Soon, the blood began to move of its own accord, ascending the door's inwrought channels before disappearing behind the Sith message, illuminating the words with an eerie crimson-reddish glow.

The door began to slide open, dust falling in thick plumes from the ceiling as it went. What awaited the pair was nothing more than an inky black darkness, with no sign of what lay beyond the threshold.

 

[Rorie]

//: Lyssara Talis //: Aistrella //:
//: Attire //:

​

Rorie was afraid of the dark.

As much as she could see through it, this darkness was different. A looming dread clawed at her spine with each cautious step. She could feel something eerie about this place, something that even with the education she was force-fed, she knew nothing about. Over and over, she mulled her thoughts, searching for anything familiar in her mind that would tell her everything would be okay.

None of that relief came, even if the two companions she had decided to follow felt at ease.

Her eyes darted between them; one looked like a blind mouse, while the other was far more dangerous than her stature suggested. They moved further, creatures now making their presence known, but thankfully not attacking just yet. Rorie could smell it, every scent of death lingering on her nose. She hated it. Different levels of decay, distinctive, and it made her stomach twist into knots.

Rorie wondered again why she was here, why she thought this was a good idea.

Credits, and the possibility of finding something that would let her bring home and raise her status. It had been almost a year now since the Covenant descended upon Coruscant. Almost a year of her freedom, but there wasn't much to show for it. She was still considered the bottom of the barrel, barely scraping by. But she was doing it to the best of her ability.

Her thoughts allowed Rorie to dissociate enough that she didn't remember she was in the mouth of the Netherworld. She focused on her life on Coruscant. Her blissful thoughts were quickly shattered as suddenly something she didn't know attacked them.

A few yelps and a scramble, she avoided the dive attacks or whatever happened. Thankfully, the smaller elven woman had stepped in without hesitation and struck each and every one down. Rorie stood, with her vibroknife doing nothing but shaking. Once the attack was over and the woman spoke, Rorie acted as if she was cleaning the knife and shaking off ichor from it.

"Yeah, we should rest, that was… uh…" She couldn't find the words as her eyes looked at the creatures. They were nothing like she had seen before, bodies and flesh that seemed as if crafted by something out of the ordinary.

She looked to the others, then back towards the creatures…

"What are those things?"

 

[Leontis Antalis]

LEONTIS ANTALIS

"Functional asset." Leontis repeated Lysander's choice of words with an amused little huff, as though deciding whether he had just been complimented or condemned to a lifetime of meetings and datapads. "I've been called worse things," he conceded. "Usually by people who were considerably less pleasant about it."

The humor faded somewhat when Lysander asked what he actually wanted to build on Abregado-rae. That was a considerably more interesting question than what House Antalis intended to do there. The latter had answers prepared for councils and reports. Reconstruction schedules. Shipping projections. Security requirements. Corporate partnerships. All the mundane pieces necessary to turn conquered territory into functioning territory.

What he wanted was different. "The spaceport," Leontis answered after a moment. "I'd make it larger." His eyes flicked briefly toward Astra. They had taken that facility together—or at least Leontis had brought his platoon into the storm while Astra demonstrated rather emphatically how differently Sith experienced warfare. He remembered what the port had looked like then. Barricades. Fighting. Ships desperately trying to escape while Covenant forces tightened their grip.

"I don't mean simply rebuilding what was there. Abregado-rae sits in an interesting position, and we're already going to spend the credits and resources required to restore its infrastructure. It seems remarkably wasteful to stop at restoration." Leontis gestured lightly with the armored fingers of the Hand of the Expanse. "Expand the port. Increase its freight capacity. Give Covenant shipping a reliable interchange and offer commercial traffic enough incentive to use it. Warehousing, repair facilities, bonded cargo storage, customs infrastructure, corporate facilities—the boring things no one sings songs about." A small smile returned. "House Antalis understands boring things."

He looked back to Lysander. "I'd like to see ships coming to Abregado-rae because there is profit in going there, rather than avoiding it because they're afraid of what happened there. Let the battle be remembered, certainly. Fear has its uses. But if we're going to hold the world, I'd rather its spaceport eventually become a trading hub for the Covenant." That was perhaps more candid than the answer he would have given before arriving aboard the Tyranny. "A conquered port demonstrates that we won once. A prosperous one helps us win whatever comes next." Leontis allowed the thought to rest there.

Astra's subsequent observation about builders only reinforced it. Destroyers possessed their moment. Builders inherited what remained and shaped it into something enduring. There was something deeply appealing about that proposition to a young man raised within a House that measured its existence in generations. Perhaps there were worse things than being a functional asset. When Mercy presented them to Srina Talon, however, Leontis' emerging comfort with the gathering rapidly found its limits. He knew the name. Of course he knew the name.

Whatever satisfaction he might have taken in being the heir to House Antalis, a participant in the conquest of Abregado-rae, or the recipient of the Hand of the Expanse suddenly seemed considerably less impressive. Leontis offered the Empress of the Blackwall a measured bow, respectful without becoming theatrical. "Your Majesty. Leontis Antalis. It's an honor." And then, remarkably, he stopped talking.

There were occasions when demonstrating one's intelligence meant saying something clever. There were apparently also occasions when it meant recognizing that Mercy had just personally introduced you to Srina Talon and not immediately attempting to convince her how important you were. Leontis was becoming distressingly good at this restraint business.

Eventually the little gathering began to separate, and Astra gave him something he hadn't expected. Permission to leave. Leontis regarded her for a beat after she made it clear he was free to socialize as he pleased. Not long ago she had warned him to stay close. Now the leash—figurative though it had always been—was gone. His gaze wandered across the gathering. And inevitably found Eira Dyn .

There was an opportunity. He could simply walk over. Nothing improper about that. They were acquainted, after all. He could ask how she had been since the Queen Mother's coronation. Perhaps inquire whether she'd heard about Abregado-rae. If she hadn't, Leontis would graciously fill in the missing details. His gaze dipped toward the Hand of the Expanse again.

Naturally, the glove might require an explanation. As might Astra's invitation. And Mercy's introduction. And—Leontis caught himself. He had wanted Eira to see that the young Chandrilan noble she'd been so dismissive of on Hapes had become something more consequential since their last meeting. There was a certain satisfaction in imagining the change in her assessment. Yet chasing her across the room to ensure she noticed suddenly seemed rather less satisfying. Besides, Astra was moving toward something considerably more interesting.

Leontis turned away from Eira. Astra had told him he was free to go wherever he wished. So he followed her. This time, it was entirely his choice. He approached the developing conversation between Sith and Mandalorians without attempting to force himself into its center. The discussion was already well beyond pleasantries. Trust. Cooperation. What happened when shared enemies ceased being shared. Whether Sith and Mandalorians could build something that survived longer than the immediate usefulness of pointing their weapons in the same direction.

Leontis settled near Astra, though no longer so close that he appeared afraid to leave her shadow. For once, he had nothing immediately clever to contribute. So he listened. There was an interesting symmetry to what was being discussed. Taking Abregado-rae had been relatively straightforward in principle: identify what mattered, seize it, prevent the enemy from using it. Holding it was already proving more complicated. Trade routes, corporations, local interests, reconstruction, security. Every success created relationships that needed maintaining. And relationships, Leontis understood.

House Antalis could move cargo almost anywhere someone was willing to pay for it, but the routes that endured were never those where only one party profited. Those required threats, subsidies or soldiers to maintain. The profitable ones maintained themselves because everyone involved had something to lose by allowing them to fail. Perhaps alliances between governments were not so different.

The Mandalorians wanted to know what the Sith expected from them. More importantly, they seemed to want assurance that whatever was being built would leave them something worth preserving once the immediate enemies were gone. That was a question Leontis understood considerably better than battlefield strategy.

But these were Mandalorians and Sith discussing the future of powers considerably larger than House Antalis. Leontis wasn't foolish enough to mistake an invitation into the room for authority over it. Not yet. His hands settled comfortably behind his back, the armored Hand of the Expanse clasping the other as he watched the faces around the discussion. For now, the heir of House Antalis would listen.

Mercy | Astra Sadow | Lysander von Ascania | Srina Talon | Veyla Krinn | Siv Kryze | Dral-Kar'ta Saandyr | Varin Mortifer | Helix | Open