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

[Quinn Varanin]

//: Objective 1 //:

Everyone had something to say; they laid everything out on the table and demanded what they wanted. Quinn remained silent on the matter. She sat with her hands in her lap, and she listened. Her mother, the Empress of the Sith Order, brought forward the dark history of the nations in the room. At one point, everyone had burned the other; there had been war, but today there was a chance for change.

Quinn glanced quietly towards Arris, wondering how much of this history the woman knew. All of this had been lessons for her, some even a reason she was not allowed to touch the ground she was born on for years. Her eyes flickered between the three leaders; she realized she landed somewhere between. As a Councilor, she shouldered the weight of the Tenth Empire's destruction; as the Queen of Eshan, she carried the pain of the Mandalorians' destruction of her home.

While Eshan burned, so did Mandalore.

A part of her wanted to empathize with the fellow warrior culture, but she couldn't. The empathy she should have felt wasn't there.

While Eshan prospered, they were still under the thumb of the Mandalorian Empire. They still had to answer to a people that had chosen to rain fire upon their world. She had to quietly remind herself that these Mandalorians were not the ones who had destroyed her home, who had forced choices on her parents, who had kept her away from Eshan. Aether had given Eshan back to her, and the people had accepted these choices.

Quinn exhaled quietly the breath she didn't realize she had been holding. A hand rose, seeking another, but she stopped and placed it back in her lap.

Here was not the time, nor would it ever be the place for her to unravel.

As much as she wanted a free Eshan, her hands were tied not only by her duty as Queen and Warden representative, but also by her role as a Dark Councilor.

Though what came first?

Even with those two titles, she had her connections within the Sith Covenant, now with both of their Triumvirs. Quinn now understood her role in everything; she understood why she was who she was within the Dark Council. But questions remained about her place within the Mandalorian Empire, as much as they did with Eshan.

She swallowed her pride and her desires as the Eshan Queen and smiled softly at the group. What most may forget, but Eshan never would, was that now wasn't the first time that Eshan was within a Mandalorian Empire space. There had been a time, a dark time, but the liberators were not the Jedi.

It was the Dark Side; it was the Confederacy.

When Spencer invited the Infernal to the table to break peace between the nations, the woman was nothing but deception. She claimed to be a caretaker from the Eshan worlds, using that as her claim to the people. Pathetic.

Quinn wrinkled her nose, her lips parting to add to the disaster that was the Infernal and her catastrophes, but she paused. Srina had said enough, had given the war council the painted image of a woman who knew nothing of leading — only wanting the benefits of it.

She leaned back and remembered a story she had heard from the former Queen of Eshan. Years after the fight, the destruction that laid waste to Eshan. The woman who had orchestrated it returned. She sought to see the memorial, to pay respects.

Quinn's mind was muddled by the conversation. Still, the fallout was that the Infernal was banished and her beloved caretaker stricken from Eshan records.

No kin with a connection to the Infernal was allowed on Eshan.

Spoiler: Tags

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 Mia Monroe Lily Rhodes Nephthys Nardithi-Verd

 

[Vess Sadragen]

Vess made it around the corner. Then another. She didn't know where she was going; normally, that would have bothered her. Vess always knew where she was going, even if the destination was only the next door, the next terminal, the next place she could disappear for a while. Right now she just needed somewhere Lily couldn't see her.

She found it in the narrow space between two buildings, far enough from the street that nobody passing would have much reason to look. Vess stopped there and leaned back against the wall, staring blankly at the opposite side of the alley. For a few seconds nothing happened. She drew in a breath. Held it. Let it out. Another. That was usually enough to slow everything down, find the problem, and work it one piece at a time.

Her face crumpled. "Fuck." The word came out broken. Vess clapped her good hand over her mouth as the first sob tore through her anyway. Her shoulders folded inward, and she slid down the wall, boots scraping against duracrete until she was sitting on the ground. She tried to stop. That somehow made it worse. Another sob came, then another, until she couldn't keep them quiet anymore. Tears spilled freely down her cheeks as Vess bent forward, pressing her hand against her eyes as she could physically force them back in.

It hurt. Lily loved her, but Lily chose Arris. Vess squeezed her eyes shut, but that only made it worse. Commenor. An abandoned dinner neither of them had ever gotten around to eating. Waking up beside her. Lily wrapped around her from behind. Stupid arguments. Kisses stolen between sentences. All those quiet little moments Vess hadn't realized she'd been collecting until suddenly they were all she had left. A strangled sound escaped behind her hand.

"I would've gone anywhere with you."

No one was there to hear it; whatever little control she'd managed to regain vanished with it. She folded in on herself, her good arm wrapped around her middle as another sob tore through her, harder than the last, leaving her struggling for breath. She pressed her forehead against her knees and cried.

She wanted Lily. That was the stupid part. Even now, sitting on the ground with tears running down her face because Lily had chosen someone else, Vess wanted her. Wanted those arms around her. Wanted to bury her face against Lily and hear that everything was going to be okay. The thought made another broken sound catch in her throat.

"Fuck you."

It wasn't angry. That somehow made it worse. Vess dragged her sleeve across her face, but there was no point. The tears kept coming, hot and relentless, her breathing hitching every time she almost managed to get it under control. "Fuck you, Lily." Her voice cracked completely on the name. She didn't mean that either. "I love you."

That was the problem.

Vess stayed there on the ground, crying until her chest hurt and her head was pounding again. Eventually there wasn't enough left in her to keep sobbing. She just sat there, eyes swollen, nose running, cheeks wet, absolutely miserable. Vess stared at the wall opposite her for a long time before wiping her face again. It didn't help much.

She needed to find Allyson. The thought came reluctantly, because she didn't know what else to do. For once, being alone sounded worse. She remained there another minute anyway, gathering what scraps of dignity she could find before finally pushing herself back onto her feet.

Thread and faction exit for Vess.

​

TAG: Allyson Locke Lily Rhodes

 

[Allyson Locke]

//: Vess Sadragen //:

Vess moved, and Allyson followed. She kept her distance from the girl, watching her take every turn that came her way. The Corellian knew this feeling; it had become so common for her that it felt constant — like her life was going to be this wallowing despair. Unlike Vess, Allyson had done that to herself — she understood more of what Lily would be going through than what Vess was.

What broke her heart… was that she felt like she was following Taiia; she could only see the woman's copper hair moving as Vess stumbled down the path she was wandering. Allyson kept her feelings in check, buried them deep somewhere that Vess couldn't feel and wouldn't feel. This wasn't about Allyson; it was about Vess — someone whose life had been uprooted, whose feelings destroyed by the unforgiving galaxy.

Stopping at the edge of the alley, Allyson let the force cloak fade; she watched as Vess fell apart, thinking she was alone.

Every ounce of emotion the Corellian felt, she felt guilty. She shouldn't be the one to see this; it wasn't right, but it was all she had left.

Allyson waited until Vess seemed done. She didn't say anything, but walked up behind the girl, put her arm over her shoulder, and pulled her in close — this was the first time Allyson had shown any affection beyond a pat on the back.

The hug was rough, but the pressure was sometimes what was needed when falling apart. She remembered tightening her jacket as hard as she could on nights when the only thing she wanted was Taiia. The warmth, the constant weight of another person, that sickening need for human contact — it drove Allyson insane some nights. She knew that kind of insanity was waiting for Vess in the cold, on a mission somewhere that felt like the end of time.

Allyson knew she couldn't shield her padawan from that; Vess would have to navigate it herself.

But at least, unlike Allyson — she would have someone. Someone who understood this feeling and could help explain things.

"Hey," Allyson said as she dragged Vess along the dark alleyway. "I know whatever you're feeling sucks… but I'm not going to leave you."

She pulled her into another hard hug, something Allyson didn't know how to do with anyone but her wife. She kept that gentleness hidden from the galaxy. But maybe that's why Vess had come into her life — to teach her how to mentor again, to show her gentleness, and to foster someone better than her.

"Yeah, I ain't gonna leave you." She stopped at the end of the alley and sighed.

"I don't take students; my only Padawan fell to the dark side, but if you want a place, somewhere to bury your head and work..." She sighed again, doing her best not to look at Vess. If she did, she'd instantly regret everything she was saying.

Fear bubbled to the surface, wondering if this was the right thing to do right now. But it was her only way to give the girl an ounce of security, some ground to stand on after everything was ripped from her.

"We can do that, Master, Padawan crap. Just… Don't call me Master — shit's weird." Allyson patted Vess on the back as she let go of the hug.

"Let's go look at some tiddies or something and drink… to get your mind off shit…" Allyson paused and then finally looked at the girl who was seemingly now stuck with her.

"Just don't tell my wife when we head home, to Odessen."

- Thread Exit -​

 

[Anet Raine]

Madrona A’Mia
Robes | Mask | Lightsaber​

The Neti's backhand struck Anet, sending the knight-to-be backwards. She nearly stumbled down the ruined steps, but fell to one knee instead and held onto the stone with one hand. The mask was not easy to budge... if anything, it seemed almost possessive of their connection.

At first, Anet seethed between gritted teeth. Then, she cackled.

"I see."

She locked onto her Master alone. The Dark Side was not a force made to obey; it took. It ripped into Anet's throat and drank greedily - every slight, the sum of her fears, her passions, her devotion.

Her left hand unclasped the lightsaber and ignited it - the crimson blade hissed and wavered viciously, spitting stray flares of plasma from the faulty containment field. It was violent, unstable, and liable to harm anything and everything, just as Anet herself was.

But it was her right hand that struck first. It stretched out, drawing pieces of building debris into the clutches of her invisible grip. She tugged her hand towards her, pulling the pieces from every direction towards A'Mia at the center.

 

[Kyla Deth]

Acier Moonbound​

It was true that Kyla didn't know where Ace was coming from. He was a stranger to her. His past unknowable. It wasn't her place to commit assumptions as fact, but that was precisely her point.

She looked back down at the revelry. It was true... it did seem as if they hadn't a care in the galaxy. That they could drink, brawl, gamble, and mingle as if the surrounding devastation meant nothing... or maybe because of it.

The Soikan's eyes narrowed; she crossed her arms and exhaled slowly.

"I don't know." She didn't have an answer. "But there's only one way to find one."

Without another word, Kyla expertly hopped down the other side without a sound. Her movement was graceful, like a cat in the trees. She crept down behind a pile of rubble at the bottom, then swiftly crossed the street with a series of long strides that minimized how many times she needed to touch the ground.

Finally, she disappeared into another alley. Whether Ace decided to follow was up to him.

 

[Seren Gwyn]

Seren remained still as the first hounds approached. Tobias had told her to offer the connection, and she had no intention of disrupting it now merely because uncertainty had become considerably more uncomfortable at close range. The first touch of a spectral snout against her head sent blue energy flickering between them, and Seren drew a slow breath as the connection reached deeper. Memories were not something she surrendered casually, but she didn't try to hide them either. If these creatures intended to judge her by what she had done rather than what she called herself, then concealing the inconvenient portions would defeat the entire purpose of choosing them.

They had plenty to find. The Jedi she had once been, carrying a violet blade and believing that identity considerably simpler than she now knew it to be. The choices that had eventually driven her away from them. Malachor and the darkness she had willingly embraced afterward. Voidstar burning crimson in her hands. Violence committed deliberately rather than excused as necessity, but also the boundaries she had refused to abandon simply because darkness made crossing them easier. She had protected people, spared enemies, helped free captives, and walked away from battles when continuing would have meant killing for little more than allegiance. Thyferra remained painfully recent among those memories. She fought Aiden because Jedi and Sith had placed themselves on opposite sides, then chose surrender rather than let that distinction decide how far she was willing to go. There was love as well, family and Varin, and the future she had chosen to build rather than spend her life defined entirely by conflict. None of it formed a particularly tidy answer to what Seren was.

Perhaps that was appropriate.

Tobias's warning about the approaching pack reached her, but Seren resisted the instinctive urge to turn toward the threat. Her barrier remained wrapped closely around her to protect against the rising sand, yet he had been clear that she could do nothing about the hounds without breaking what was happening. Trusting someone else to deal with a danger she knew was approaching wasn't especially comfortable, but neither was destroying the connection she had willingly offered just because it suddenly required vulnerability. "Then I suppose I'm trusting you with that problem." Her voice stayed quiet, her attention fixed on the sentinels as the monstrous hounds closed around them.

A lightsaber ignited behind her, followed by violence Seren could hear without turning to watch. She kept herself still through it, even when every survival instinct encouraged her to look toward the threat, and let Tobias fulfill the trust she had placed in him. The sounds ended almost as abruptly as they had begun. Whatever happened afterward remained beyond the small world formed by Seren and the sentinel hounds surrounding her.

She concentrated instead upon what passed between them. Tobias had said they were following her memories, but Seren found herself wondering whether memory alone adequately described what they encountered. Actions were easy to isolate after the fact. Motives were considerably messier. She had protected people out of compassion and harmed others in anger. She had known fear, pride, love, resentment, mercy, and moments when she failed to live by the principles she claimed mattered. If the sentinels wanted something perfectly balanced between darkness and light, she doubted any living person could honestly offer it. What Seren could offer was herself without the convenient editing that titles allowed.

Jedi. Sith. Darth. Countess. Seren. The last remained the only one she needed here.

She kept the connection open and waited beneath the touch of the spectral hounds, making no attempt to persuade them toward the answer she wanted. Tobias believed she had chosen well, but his judgment didn't matter now. The sentinels had been offered everything they required to make their choice.

Seren would accept whatever they decided.

Tobias Dib

 

[Revna Marr]

Wearing:
Ring || Lightsaber || Necklace​

“If shit didn’t get wild with the Netherworld appearing, then I’d be worried.”

Revna chuckled grimly along with Eleanor at that statement, agreeing with it wholeheartedly. Of the few times that Revna had been either inside the Nether, or at least in close proximity to it, wild situations had occurred - enough to leave a lasting impression upon Revna’s mind and soul.

It also didn’t help that her own Void Hunger seemed almost energized by the closer proximity of the Nether to Abregado-rae.

The outburst across the way drew the other young woman’s attention away, and both she and Revna watched for a moment, before Eleanor turned back around with an eyeroll and an amused huff. “Guess that’s why it’s one of the primary vices in the galaxy. Sitting in the last remnant of civilization on the planet…” She remarked as the bartender returned and she accepted the drink, tipping it back for a hearty drink that made Revna smirk a little.

What Eleanor had to say next in response to Revna’s inquiry, certainly perked the little Marr’s interest, and it no doubt reflected in her eyes and upon her face - especially the Core Empress mention.

“Said downtime consisted of watching pairs of individuals beating the absolute shit out of one another.”

The girl across from Revna took another sip of her drink.

“I was one of those individuals.”

Revna chuckled again and mildly shook her head. “That doesn’t surprise me in the slightest. My Apprentice has told me…stories, of his time amongst the Covenant, especially where Mercy is involved. She is…something else, isn’t she?” She murmured, though there was a hint of affection laced into her voice. She and Mercy knew each other well enough, and the little Vahla harbored some lingering…affection, for the Core Empress.

“Who did you end up fighting against?” Revna inquired further after a moment as she finished off the last of the spirits in her glass and flagged the bartender for another drink as a fresh influx of patrons stepped inside the cantina. She watched them from the corner of her eye for a moment, already sensing a chaotic swirl of heightened emotion around the newcomers that spread throughout the establishment. Something told her that they were looking for trouble, but only time would prove if that was true or not.
​

Eleanor
​

 

[Leontis Antalis]

LEONTIS ANTALIS

The more Leontis listened, the more he suspected Astra's proposed solution was irritatingly sensible. A trial run. No sweeping declarations. No grand promises between governments that had accumulated enough historical grievances to fill several archives. Simply find something both parties wanted, establish terms, fulfill them, and see whether everyone involved remained satisfied enough to do it again. Leontis understood that language.

House Antalis could negotiate freight contracts considerably more easily than it could negotiate trust. Fortunately, the former had a curious tendency to encourage the latter. A merchant did not need to like the person transporting his cargo if the shipment consistently arrived intact and on schedule. After enough successful deliveries, reliability became expectation. Expectation became dependence. Eventually disrupting the arrangement became more expensive than preserving it. Perhaps governments were not so different.

His thoughts briefly returned to Abregado-rae and the spaceport he and Astra had helped secure. Leontis had just explained to Lysander what he wanted that place to become: not merely reconstructed, but expanded into a trading hub capable of feeding commerce deeper into Covenant territory. Astra's proposal provided another possibility. Mandalorian cargo moving through Covenant facilities under a limited commercial agreement would accomplish more than another dozen speeches about cooperation ever could.

The first shipment would be regarded suspiciously. The tenth would be routine. Routine was terribly underrated. Astra's golden eyes found him. Leontis caught the smile and answered with a small one of his own before lifting his glass slightly in acknowledgment. Yes. He was still listening. More importantly, he was beginning to understand why he'd chosen to follow her.

Abregado-rae had provided an impressive demonstration of what Astra could accomplish when violence became necessary. It would have been easy to reduce her to that image: overwhelming power wrapped in an attractive package and accompanied by enough confidence to make the whole affair seem perfectly reasonable. Yet here she was offering patience where she could have demanded trust and proposing commerce where others might have preferred treaties backed by fleets. Leontis filed that lesson away with the others.

He suspected there would be considerably more to discuss later. For the moment, the informal conversations began giving way to the purpose that had brought all of them aboard the Tyranny in the first place. The War Council. Leontis moved with Astra when the gathering transitioned, finding his place without any attempt to improve upon whatever arrangement had been made for him. He took a moment after settling to regard those assembled.

That proved to be a mistake. When he had first arrived, the reception had made it easier to pretend this was simply another gathering of important people. Chandrila had provided plenty of those. Nobles cultivated an extraordinary talent for convincing themselves that a room became historically significant merely because enough expensive clothing occupied it simultaneously.

This was different. Empresses. Sith Lords. Mandalorian leaders. Representatives of powers capable of moving fleets and armies across the galaxy. Individuals whose decisions could determine whether worlds traded with one another or burned. And, somehow, Leontis Antalis.

His armored fingers shifted slightly against his other hand, the Hand of the Expanse an increasingly familiar weight. For the briefest moment, Leontis wondered exactly what Astra had been thinking when she'd decided he belonged here. Then the thought passed. Whatever her reasoning, he was here. That meant the sensible thing was to learn everything he could before anyone reconsidered.

So Leontis listened. The history being laid upon the table was ugly. Old wars. Old occupations. Old betrayals. Reasons for Mandalorians to distrust Sith and Sith to question Mandalorians. Even those theoretically standing upon the same side could not be assumed to want precisely the same things. That last realization caught Leontis' attention.

Astra had mentioned it already. Imperials. Republic. Even their own people who might reject whatever emerged from this gathering. Winning a battle suddenly seemed almost refreshingly simple. Abregado-rae had taught him that much. Identify the objective. Take it. Hold it. Destroy anyone attempting to prevent either. This was different.

There was no spaceport at the center of the room waiting to be captured. The prize was an arrangement everyone considered more valuable than abandoning it. Leontis leaned back slightly in his seat, remaining silent as the larger powers spoke. For perhaps the first time in his life, he felt absolutely no compulsion to demonstrate that he possessed the cleverest opinion in the room. He didn't. Not yet.

Instead he watched who spoke and, perhaps more importantly, who listened. He paid attention when someone invoked history and when another deliberately looked beyond it. He considered what each party appeared to fear losing, what they hoped to gain, and what concessions seemed to produce discomfort. Logistics had taught House Antalis that moving something from one world to another was rarely the difficult part. The difficult part was ensuring that everyone involved had sufficient reason to keep the route open.

Leontis' gaze occasionally drifted toward Astra. He could already imagine the conversation afterward. There would be questions. Several of them, probably. For once, he intended to have thoughtful answers before giving them.

Somewhere elsewhere among the gathering was Eira Dyn . Leontis remained aware of that fact despite himself. Earlier, the prospect of finding her and casually displaying just how much had changed since Hapes had been almost irresistible. Now? He was sitting in a War Council because Astra Sadow had invited him there, wearing the Hand of the Expanse earned following a successful campaign, listening while some of the most consequential figures among the assembled powers debated their future. Leontis suppressed a smile. Perhaps he didn't need to find Eira after all.

If she happened to notice him, that would be considerably more satisfying. His attention returned to the discussion. House Antalis had spent generations learning how to move cargo. Leontis was beginning to suspect that understanding how to move people might prove considerably more valuable.

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

 

[Madrona A’Mia]

​

Tag: Anet Raine

​

But it was her right hand that struck first. It stretched out, drawing pieces of building debris into the clutches of her invisible grip. She tugged her hand towards her, pulling the pieces from every direction towards A'Mia at the center.

Whirling like a dervish, A'Mia danced amidst the flying shards. Some were deflected by her blades whilst others were warded off by bursts of her own telekinesis. A rare few though struck home and battered against woody flesh, tearing a bit of flowing fabric, and one jagged stone chip even cut a line across A'Mia's high cheek. A dark green line of sap trailing down.

Still, she smiled. Maddeningly, she laughed.

"The darkness flows fierce through you — what happens if the connection is cut?"

A'Mia mused high and bright, hurling one of her daggers at the would be knight's head and somersaulting backward, down into the rubble of ruined library so she could unleash a few of her pets into chunks of duracrete where they could slink, hide, prepare for ambush. All while their master goaded her young charge.

"My necklace, or your mask — Whoever claims the other's belonging first, wins," A'Mia sang out her terms as she popped up from the evasion to hurl a second dagger even as a third appeared in one of her hands.

 

[Dral-Kar'ta Saandyr]

THE DIVIDE
​

Objective I, THE WAR COUNCIL
Location: ABOARD THE TYRANNY

Ship: The Bes'hurok (Iron Rock) Armed Adviso

Armor: Protector-type Beskar'gam

Primary Weapon: A-180 Modular Blaster

Secondary Weapons: Briletto PPK, Stun Baton,

Blade: Tal'Alor Beskad
Sidekick: Ta-2P0 (Tappo)

Interacting With : Siv Dragr , Veyla Krinn , Helix , Varin Mortifer Astra Sadow

---

​

The three Mandalorians, Siv, Veyla and he, did not coordinate their replies but the three of them were nonetheless advancing the same points and concerns. What was happening in the closed meeting was unknown but out in the gallery the gathering was going unexpectedly well. No shouts or insults had been yelled, no blaster shots rang out and as far as he could tell no one had been quietly knifed in the back. A low bar for a diplomatic meeting to be sure but when so many persons who are comfortable with violence are in the same room, one could never be sure.

The trio of Mando's became a foursome as @Adonis joined them. He had not quite fought by Adonis' side during the skirmish at Socorro's Belt but he had fought in the same vicinity and shared the same battlefield. He also appeared to be in agreement with the gist of their position and stated his opinion for the outcome of the negotiations.

Helix surmised the situation succinctly. "If we here are a representation of our respective factions, it does appear that a workable détente can be reached. The key to the agreement lasting, As the General pointed out, is our response when the inevitable disagreement or friction takes place. We must also be willing to accept there likely be provocations given but commit to not letting them derail the agreement and commit to working out any differences that may arise. That will be the true test of today's work. Mandalorians and Sith are both strong-willed people. It will be up to our leaders to lead that will and channel it towards the benefit of all."

When Astra Sadow Shadow spoke, she brought another dynamic to the conversation. Neither Sith or Mandalorian she was a businesswoman and although it was often said that there is profit in war a shrewd business person would not discount the profits peace, or at least stability, could bring. Dral-Kar'ta was a Mandalorian first but he was also an administrator and a businessman. Maridun had a quickly growing economy that could benefit from increased trade, especially with the core, and his family had property and did business throughout the Galaxy. With over a million of locations on thousands of planets the Kar'ta company MFP was by design intergalactic and removed from parochial faction concerns.

"Maridun Mining, Minerals and Manufacturing and MFP, which I hold executive positions in, would be interested in such an offer… provided everything is in order." He added echoing Astra's qualifier. "Commercial ties and shared business interests can be a more powerful motivator than ideology. I would like to see any agreement be both beneficial and profitable for every party for trade could be the glue that binds any political arrangement agreed to today."

The Sith were indeed a chaotic people as Helix noted but the could be assured to act in their own self-interest so one needed to make it in their own self-interest to keep the promises they made and credits were a good way of doing so.

He followed Veyla Krinn and Helix's example and reached for a drink.

 

[Casimir Thorne]

WEARING: xxx | WEAPON: x | x | TAG: Efret Farr​

Casimir watched the mask come away. The reaction it pulled from Anet made it impossible to mistake the act for theater. Pain moved through her before it ever reached Efret, sharp enough that Casimir felt the disturbance in the Force even without understanding the strange relationship the woman seemed to have with the thing she held against her chest.

Then Anet vanished from the Force. Not physically, but the absence was stranger for that. One moment she occupied space within it, surrounded by that persistent unease Casimir had already noticed, and the next there was nothing where something should have been. His eyes narrowed slightly as he listened.

There was conviction in everything Anet said. Casimir could grant her that much. She was not merely offering Efret some convenient justification for cruelty. She believed every word. The destruction of Abregado-rae, the dead, the living, predator and prey, creation and annihilation were all reduced into expressions of the same vast whole.

Casimir understood the argument, though that did not mean he accepted where she took it.

His attention shifted toward Efret, and he found her trying to understand it too. Of course she was. Even after Anet had pressed into something raw enough to turn Efret's borrowed voice into that terrible sound, Efret still listened rather than dismissing her. She still searched for whatever distinction Anet believed existed between experiencing suffering and celebrating the expression that created it.

"I fail to understand the difference."

Casimir's gaze lingered on her. Neither did he.

Perhaps there was one buried somewhere inside Anet's philosophy. Perhaps an afternoon spent dissecting every premise would eventually uncover it. Efret did not need an afternoon of philosophy.

"I judge myself for participating in it."

That struck closer.

Casimir's expression softened as he considered the words. He knew better than to answer too quickly. Telling her she should not judge herself would be easy, and it might even sound kind, but it would also replace her judgment with his.

Efret offered that small, closed smile.

"I need sleep, not sermons."

That almost earned a smile from Casimir in return, but the exhaustion behind the words stopped it before it fully formed. She had given herself every reason to leave, yet something still kept her there.

His hand lifted where Efret could see it, and there was no command in the movement this time. He simply extended it toward her, palm open between them.

Come with me.

The offer remained there while Casimir looked toward Anet.

"Then I think the universe can survive without being understood for one night."

There was no hostility in the words. Some of the earlier edge had even disappeared from his voice. Anet had answered Efret's accusation by exposing something vulnerable, however strange the philosophy built around it might seem to him. Casimir could respect the honesty without sharing the conclusion.

His eyes moved briefly toward the mask now restored to her face.

"I understand what you're saying. I don't think suffering becomes precious simply because it belongs to something larger than us."

He left it there. Anet did not need a competing sermon any more than Efret did.

Casimir turned back toward Efret, his hand still waiting between them. He would not tell her that she had done enough, insist that she leave, or make the decision she seemed reluctant to make herself.

His thumb moved once against his palm, changing the sign slightly.

If you want.

She had spent enough of the conversation being told what her conflict meant. Casimir would let her decide what happened next.

 

[Brool Koon]

Reluctantly, the Kel Dor took the stone. He figured the Dark Sider gained nothing from tricking him, however he had been painfully wrong about that before. Being in the custody of the Sith had lead him to many torture methods he hadn't considered possible before. Still, he pocketed the stone beneath his robe. They expected him to be weak, so he would show them how strong he was.

Eyes that reflected the darkness that had been thrust upon him drifted from the Mandalorian to the Dark Sider. They each had their own futures ahead of them, and this trial was the first step toward that future.

"I want to find answers." Brool said calmly, his hand balled into a four fingered fist. He was going to show the Sith that he was not powerless, and he would find a way to escape. He would do whatever he needed to escape the Sith.

"What do you seek, Mandalorian?" He asked before stepping further into the unknown himself.

TAG: Nysa Veilwalker Sylor

​

 

[Siv Kryze]

.​

​

Siv listened as Veyla Krinn spoke, his helmet turning toward her as she admitted that some of her suspicion had eased since they had first stepped aboard the Tyranny. A quiet nod followed. He understood the sentiment. He wasn't ready to forget the history between their peoples either, but there was a difference between remaining cautious and looking for reasons to distrust every person in the room.

His gaze drifted briefly across the gathering, taking in the Sith and Mandalorians standing together without the tension that had been present earlier. It was a small thing, perhaps, but considering the history between them, Siv found himself appreciating it more than he expected.

When Astra Sadow spoke of a limited arrangement, Siv's attention returned to her. He listened carefully, weighing the offer rather than immediately responding. A limited commitment made more sense than trying to force some grand agreement into existence after a single meeting. Something tangible could be measured. If it worked, there would be something to build upon. If it didn't, neither side would have to pretend otherwise.

He gave Astra a small nod.

"I'd be more comfortable starting there."

His attention moved toward Dral-Kar'ta Saandyr as he expanded on the commercial side of the idea. Siv's arms folded loosely across his chest as he considered it. Trade had always been easier to understand than political promises. A functioning route, a shipment that arrived on time, a settlement that had something to gain from remaining connected — those were things people could actually point to.

Dral wasn't wrong. Mutual interests could sometimes accomplish what diplomacy alone could not.

Siv's helmet shifted toward Helix as the mechanical warlord spoke again about factionalism. He listened without interrupting, occasionally giving a slight nod. There was something useful in Helix's willingness to admit that he couldn't speak for every Sith. Mandalore had its own divisions. Pretending otherwise would only make the comparison dishonest.

"That's fair," Siv said after a moment. "Mandalore has never been a people that agrees on everything either."

He let the thought hang there rather than turning it into a larger argument. His attention briefly passed toward Veyla and Dral.

"What matters is what we do when we don't agree."

That seemed to be the part worth remembering.

Siv's gaze eventually returned to Astra. This time, he regarded her offer with a little more curiosity than caution. The willingness to personally put resources behind a limited arrangement was more meaningful to him than another declaration about friendship or prosperity.

He uncrossed his arms, one hand resting briefly against his belt as he considered his words.

"And your offer is a little different from the rest of this conversation."

His visor remained on Astra.

"You're not asking Mandalore to make a decision here. You're offering something you can actually commit to yourself, and leaving anything larger to the proper channels."

A faint nod followed.

"That's something I'd be interested in hearing more about. What exactly would you have in mind for that arrangement?"

Siv glanced toward the doorway where the closed deliberations were still taking place, then back to Astra.

"If there's something practical there, I'd rather understand it properly before making assumptions about where it could lead."

Tag: Dral-Kar'ta Saandyr Helix Varin Mortifer Veyla Krinn Astra Sadow​

 

[Eleanor]

A BUTCHER'S PEACE

Tags: Revna Marr

The raven-haired Sith raised an eyebrow as Revna answered, revealing not only that she had an Apprentice, making her either a Knight or Lord, but that she also had some familiarity with Mercy. Eleanor caught that slight hint of affection in her tone, and mentally filed it away.

It didn’t exactly surprise her though. Even from their initial interaction, Eleanor could tell Mercy was the type of person that just magnetised people to her, likely even before becoming the Core Empress.

“That she is. And I think referring to her as a ‘force to be reckoned with’, would be heavily understating things.” She replied, chuckling lightly before taking another sip of her drink.

Eleanor grimaced slightly at Revna’s question about her opponent. It had been weeks since that fight, and she could still sometimes feel that large hand wrapped around her throat.

“A Gen’Dai of all things.” Eleanor began, taking a sizeable swig of her drink. “Had struck a deal with the bookie who was overseeing the bets. He had an item I wanted, and they needed a fighter. Cue him stringing me along, moving the goalposts, until he realised I wasn’t ever going to lose.” She looked away for a moment, eyes narrowing as she recalled the fight. “Apparently he had the ear of the one setting the fights, as my intended opponent was swapped out for a Gen’Dai instead.”

Eleanor glanced back at Revna.

“Don’t know if you’ve ever fought one, but they're a royal pain in the ass to kill. And…”

Whatever she was going to say, died on her lips as she caught Revna’s eyes flickering just off to the side of where they were sitting. There was something about her expression in that moment, that told Eleanor whatever she just saw wasn’t good news.

Subtly turning her head to look, Eleanor watched the group of newcomers as they filtered into the cantina. Most of them were of little interest…until she noticed each one of them was keeping a hand close to their side, as if ready to draw a weapon at any time. For a moment Eleanor was just going to brush it off as paranoia, but something was telling her otherwise.

Her eyes lingered for a bit longer, watching as two men muttered to one another, split apart, and one headed over to the bar to converse with a patron that had already been seated there before Eleanor’s arrival.

And his place at the bar had a perfect view of the entire cantina.

Could he have been a lookout?

“They’re trying to act casual, but you can see the tension in their bodies.” Eleanor muttered quietly, returning her gaze to Revna. “And something tells me they’re not fellow Sith.”

 

[Acier Moonbound]

Location: Abregado-rae

Equipment:
Jedi Robes | Beskar Chainmail | Shoto | Tic

Ace blinked. He'd expected an argument. Some Jedi answer about hope or redemption that would circle them straight back to where they'd started. Instead, Kyla admitted she didn't know.

Ace looked away, wondering if he'd been a little quick to dismiss her. Truth was, this was still raw. He'd believed people in the Covenant could be reached because he'd needed to believe it. Then Varin made his choice. Arris made hers. He'd even heard rumors that Lysander had gone back. One by one, they'd chosen the Covenant anyway.

Ace watched Kyla hop from the building and disappear into the alley below. "...Fuck."

Tic chirped against his back.

"I know."

He stepped toward the edge. Kyla wanted an answer and, instead of pretending she had one, she'd gone looking for it. Ace respected that. He dropped from the ruined floor, landing in a crouch behind the rubble. He straightened with a slight wince before crossing the street after her. Ace slipped into the alley and caught up a few moments later.

"Alright." His voice remained low. "May as well find take a look."

The noise from the gathering was clearer this close. Ace slowed near the opposite end of the alley, keeping himself behind the corner as he looked toward the activity beyond.

Getting closer was easy enough. Figuring out how two barely disguised Force-users were supposed to walk among them unnoticed was probably the harder part.

Kyla Deth​

 

[Kyla Deth]

Acier Moonbound​

Kyla looked back at Ace and smiled when he arrived. She hadn't expected him to follow, but was glad to be wrong.

She looked back to the perimeter. Like Ace, she was considering how to approach. It seemed like a bad idea to rely on sneaking about and not getting caught with that many people around. She kept her eyes peeled, scanning for anything at--

Oh...

Kyla blushed.

She looked down at a pile of clothes beside a few crates, just a foot or two away from the unmistakable sounds happening behind them.

It was their lucky day, she reckoned.

Kyla snuck forward and snatched the clothes. A pair of Sith officers' uniforms. Suitable. She snuck back to where Ace was and sifted through the uniforms. "These will fit you better." She offered.

Then, Kyla went to work - she unfastened her robes and quickly got dressed in her uniform. It was a bit of a tight fit. Whoever they belonged to must've been slightly smaller than she was. Kyla neatly folded her robes and tucked them under a bench. Lightsaber, too.

She drew the sidearm that came with the belt. "Feels wrong just having one of these," she grumbled.

 

[Arris Windrun]

Varin Mortifer​

Arris liked what she heard from Varin.

He was proactive. That he already had a vision told her that he was absolutely the right man for the job. Though she considered what he was saying... The people of Abregado-rae? Weaponizing their grief and wounds, then turning it against the Covenant's enemies... Yeah. That was real fucking Sith of them, wasn't it?

"You can requisition anything you need through me." She said.

It felt weird to say it, but she had the resources necessary to build armies and fleets.

"Armor. Weapons. Vehicles. A fleet. Whatever. I want you ready, Varin."

She had nothing left to say, so Arris turned and walked back down the steps. She waved back to him.

"I'm going to loiter. Or maybe leave. I don't think I want to set foot on this planet again..."

With that, Arris was gone.

[Scene Exit]

 

[Acier Moonbound]

Location: Abregado-rae

Equipment:
Jedi Robes | Beskar Chainmail | Shoto | Tic

Ace heard the noises before he noticed the clothes. His eyes shifted toward the crates, then slowly down to the abandoned uniforms beside them. Quiet disgust settled across his face as the situation clicked into place. Tic gave a low, confused chirp from his back.

Then Kyla started sneaking toward them No. There was no fucking way she was doing what he thought she was doing.

She was.

By the time Kyla returned carrying both uniforms, Ace's expression had fallen completely flat. He accepted the clothes awkwardly against his remaining arm and looked down at them.

"This is so disgusting." He said quietly, tone perfectly even.

Still, disgusting worked. Ace sighed and started changing. Getting out of his own clothes and into different ones one handed was certifiably a pain in the ass. He fumbled more than once trying to pull fabric into place with only his right hand, eventually resorting to his teeth for one particularly stubborn fastening.

By the time he finished, Ace felt ridiculous. Wearing Covenant colors again didn't help. He gathered his clothes and moved them beneath the bench alongside Kyla's, carefully setting his shoto with them.

Ace took the accompanying sidearm instead and clipped it into the holster at his thigh. Kyla's complaint earned no response as his fingers lingered briefly against the weapon. There had been a time when carrying one of these felt considerably more natural than carrying a lightsaber, when five months of training hadn't magically made him competent with one and a blaster had still been the safer option. Felt like another lifetime now.

Ace withdrew his hand. "Alright."

He glanced over Kyla once, then down at himself. Hopefully nobody looked too closely. Ace slipped from the alley first this time, no longer keeping to the walls. Sneaking would only make them look suspicious now. Instead, he stepped onto the street with the pace of someone expected to be there.

Tic remained hidden behind him beneath the back of the uniform. The noise of the gathering grew louder as they approached the perimeter. Ace kept his head forward, resisting the instinct to check every soldier they passed.

He continued toward the encampment, waiting until they were comfortably out of earshot before speaking quietly to Kyla.

His eyes tracked the activity ahead. "We should find somebody talkative."

Kyla Deth​

 

[Lyssara Talis]

Lyssara stopped.

She had heard the request behind her, though much of her attention remained upon the strange pull deeper within the tomb. For several moments she stood motionless at the edge of the darkness, sensing the ancient stone around them and the three living presences within it. Beyond those familiar shapes was something less easily defined, pressing against the edges of her perception.

"Of course."

There was no impatience in the Miraluka's voice. If anything, it was surprisingly soft.

She lifted one hand and an emerald flame returned above her palm. Lyssara herself had little use for the illumination, but her companions did. With a slight movement of her fingers, the flame separated into several smaller wisps and drifted away from her, settling at intervals along the walls. Muted green light spread through the passage.

Rorie's question drew her attention toward the remains scattered behind them.

"Varzig."

Lyssara did not approach the corpses. She didn't need to. The creatures were dead, their presence in the Force reduced to fading impressions beneath the much stronger stain of the Netherworld that clung to them.

"They belong to the Netherworld." A slight pause followed. "Or they did." Her covered gaze remained oriented toward Rorie for another moment, an old social habit more than a necessity, before her attention returned to the depths below.

"Things from the Nether are not meant to exist here so easily. Crossing the veil usually requires a path, an invitation, or considerable power." Her voice remained quiet. "Here, they wander through as though there is no veil at all."

Another emerald wisp appeared above her fingers. Immediately, the flame stretched toward the passage ahead. Lyssara felt the distortion through the Force and allowed the little flame to linger there, pulled toward something none of them had yet encountered.

"The creatures outside don't concern me."

Her head canted faintly.

"This does."

Only then did Lyssara turn toward Aistrella, orienting herself toward the smaller woman in the familiar manner expected by those who possessed eyes. "You wanted to look." She moved aside, leaving both the passage and whatever secrets it held open to Aistrella's examination. "Take your time."

Tag: Rorie Aistrella

 

[Kyla Deth]

Acier Moonbound​

Kyla walked forward with a rigid spine. She figured posture was everything. That and looking kind of mean. So she maintained this tight-jawed, furrowed-brow glare the whole time.

She was really starting to notice how tight the uniform was, though. She couldn't help but tug at and adjust it every thirty seconds or so.

Find somebody talkative...

She gave Ace a firm, serious nod. "Right."

Somebody talk--

"Perfect!" She exclaimed quietly.

There he was - a drunk Sith. It looked like he was chatting up someone entirely uninterested in what he had to say. "I bet if we rescue them from the conversation, we can--"

"You two!" Came a stern voice from behind them.

Kyla snapped upright (somehow able to stand even straighter) and turned around. An older woman. Her uniform was similar, but she carried herself with jaded confidence. Kyla knew immediately that this woman outranked them.

"M-Ma'am!" She gave an awkward and very incorrect salute.

The woman narrowed her eyes. She approached and sniffed the air. "Well, you aren't drunk. Good." She pointed down the street. "Go relieve checkpoint Cresh. We can't all be celebrating."

Kyla glanced at Ace, raising her brow. She figured they were lucky to pass for help. For a second, she expected them to be interrogated for having their uniforms out of regulation. Or not standing at attention correctly. Or somehow finding out that their uniforms belonged to different units.