Populate The Great Hunt || SO Populate of Seswenna

[Aspect of Defiance]

The forests of Stewjon rested beneath a silver sky, the twin moons hanging low over a landscape wrapped in mist and moonlight. The air carried the scent of pine and rain-soaked soil, cool and clean beneath the wide canopy. In the heart of the forest, torches marked a broad clearing where flames burned with steady warmth. Their light glinted across armor worn by warriors who had returned from Erinar’s shadowed caverns and Firefist’s burning front. Some stood in silence. Others spoke in low tones as the night settled around them. All had come at the invitation of Gerwald Lechner to witness a tradition that belonged to his people.

The Great Hunt was older than the Order. It was older than the wars that had shaped recent years. It belonged to Stewjon alone. Each season the Hunt called those who wished to test their senses against the rhythm of the wild. It asked for patience, for stillness, and for the will to face a quarry without the support of ranks or fleets. Tonight the chosen prey was the Cerynth, a creature known for its grace and strength. Its bronze hide reflected the moonlight like weathered metal. Its crest of iridescent feathers moved with quiet light. Its antlers carried a soft glow that shifted between green and blue. To the people of Stewjon, the Cerynth represented harmony with the land. To the visiting Sith, it offered a challenge far removed from the battlefields that had shaped them.

The forest gave the moment its full attention. The wind softened until the branches rested without movement. The fire narrowed to thin tongues of light. Far beyond the torches, something passed between the trees with calm purpose. Those gathered felt the stillness grow. The Hunt was never meant for spectacle. It was a measure of instinct. It stripped away titles and rank and left only the hunter, the quiet breath of the forest, and the choices made within it.

For many who had fought beside one another on Erinar or survived the storms of Firefist, this night carried a different weight. It was not a continuation of war. It was a return to clarity. It allowed them to step into a place where victory was not taken by siege or flame, but by patience and focus. Gerwald understood this. Stewjon had shaped him before any empire or campaign. Tonight he shared a part of that world with those who walked with him now.

Banners hung above the clearing, still against the cool night air. The forest stretched outward in every direction, filled with quiet life and the promise of motion beneath the leaves. When the horn sounded, it would echo through the trees with the voice of an older age. It would call each hunter forward and guide them away from the firelight into the deeper wild.

And when the Hunt began, Stewjon would watch. The forest would stir as men and women stepped past the line of torches and into the dark, carrying the memories of Erinar’s depths and Firefist’s harsh skies, and meeting a challenge that belonged to the land that once shaped the Dread Wolf himself.

Spoiler: OBJECTIVES

Track and bring down the elusive Cerynth within the moonlit forests of Stewjon. The creature is swift and intelligent, its luminous antlers weaving between the shadows as it moves with silent grace. It knows the forest better than any hunter, sensing danger long before it strikes. To pursue it is to match patience against instinct and skill against cunning. Participants may choose to hunt alone or form fragile alliances, but in the end only one will claim the final trophy. The deeper the chase leads into the wild, the more the forest seems to come alive around them, blurring the line between predator and prey. Those who endure its trials may find glory, or something far older watching from within the trees.

When the Hunt ends and the cry of the Cerynth fades into memory, the clearing beneath Stewjon’s twin moons stirs once more. Fires blaze high, filling the forest with light and song as the Sith gather to celebrate the chase and those who triumphed within it. The scent of roasted game mingles with the smoke, horns overflow with strong drink, and voices rise in laughter and story. Warriors recall their victories, nobles speak of legacy and honor, and strangers find common ground in shared glory.

As the night deepens and the flames begin to dim, the celebration shifts toward contest. Circles are marked in the dirt, blades are drawn, and challenges of strength and endurance ignite around the fading embers. Wrestling, sparring, and trials of will turn festivity into rivalry as pride and ambition burn bright. Though no death is meant to come of it, the night stands as a reminder that power must always be proven. The Feast of Flames is more than a revel, it is a reflection of the Sith spirit, where laughter and struggle mingle beneath the silver light of the moons.

Not all who walk the forests of Stewjon do so for sport. Beyond the glow of the fires, the woods are said to hide shrines and carvings left by those who came long before the Sith. The locals speak of the Cerynth as more than a creature of beauty, claiming it guards something ancient buried deep beneath the soil. Whether truth or myth, the forest stirs with quiet energy, and its silence feels almost aware.

Some Sith may choose to follow that call, turning from the hunt to seek what lies hidden among the roots and stones. What begins as pursuit may lead to discovery, revelation, or danger, for the woods remember those who walk too far beneath their shadow. Those who enter the Whispering Woods may find more than prey waiting for them.

Spoiler: TAG LIST

@Aerik Lehner
Gerwald Lechner
Srina Talon
Naedira Darcrath
Darth Prazutis
Darth Carnifex
Darth Strosius
Madrona A’Mia
Naamino Zuukamano
Skadi Lightbane
Lysander von Ascania
Varin Mortifer
Warpriest Prime
Naniti
Korran Dorn
Markus Evremonde
Lina Ovmar
Irina Jesart
Selene Valeheart
Darth Valar
CT-312
Quinn Varanin
Darth Caedes
Lirka Ka
Helix
Darth Nefaron
Taeli Raaf

 

[Gerwald Lechner]

WEARING: This
WEAPONS: Ferrum Solus | Blodmåne | Strømafbryder
SHIP: Vigfjall
TAG: @Open

Gerwald stepped into the clearing once the murmurs near the fire faded. Days of councils pressed behind him. Erinar had demanded control. Firefist had demanded structure. Neither world offered quiet or truth.

Stewjon did.

The forest met him with clean air and the steady scent of pine. It rolled through him with a weight he had known since childhood. It reminded him of mornings when he learned to track without giving himself away, and the nights when he earned his first place among the hunters. Those memories lived beneath his skin and were shaped long before any throne or war.

Another memory pressed close as he crossed the clearing.

Naedira Darcrath .

He had felt her absence during every negotiation and every forced pause on Erinar. Firefist had been worse. Too much talking in too many rooms, and each new council made him wish he could feel her presence rather than the cold patience of politics. The Dread Wolf had already sent word ahead to Jutrand that she should meet him on Stewjon. He wanted her to see this Hunt for herself. Gerwald wanted her to know this part of the people that had shaped him.

He nodded once to the caretakers who had tended the grounds in his absence. Their faces showed approval at his return. The torches burned with calm intensity. The forest watched with quiet discipline, and hunters waited without a word.

Gerwald turned toward them, and the weight of the many councils fell from his mind.

“Your patience is appreciated,” he said. His tone carried the gravel of long days and the relief of returning to ground that did not lie. “I have spent far too much time in meetings as of late. This place is exactly what I need. The forest is ready. The Cerynth have already begun their path. We will start at first light.”

He looked over the hunters. Some had fought beside him. Some were new to Stewjon. All had come to be tested by land that respected skill above title.

“I grew up in these woods. My first hunt was here. The air was colder then, and I thought I had the path. I did not. The Cerynth shifted its trail without warning. I learned to stop and listen before taking another step. That lesson stayed with me through every campaign. You will learn your own lessons tonight.”

He took the horn from the stone. The weight grounded him as it always had. He remembered carrying something similar on the night he first hunted as a young man. He remembered returning home with torn gloves and a shaking breath and finding his sister and mother waiting for him. The memory tightened his grip on the horn. Alwine was gone now, and their mother, dead. She had lied about them, what they were, and she had paid the price for it.

“You enter alone. The forest does not care about your titles or accomplishments. Leave the noise of war behind. The Cerynth knows this land better than any of us. If you force the trail, it will sense it. If you forget your surroundings, you will lose it. Watch the soil. Watch the branches. The forest will show you the truth if you pay attention.”

He raised the horn, though he held it a moment longer. The hunters watched him. The flames pulled inward. The trees stood without movement.

"This place speaks with more honesty than any council. Let it judge you. Meet it with a clear mind.”

Gerwald brought the horn to his lips and prepared to sound the beginning of the Hunt.

 

[Warpriest Prime]

​

O B J E C T I V E | The Great Hunt
L O C A T I O N | Stewjon
G E A R | Gjallerhorn | Celestial Crown | Warpriest Armor

Gerwald Lechner

O P E N​

The forests of Stewjon had a way of swallowing sound, of softening even the weight of footsteps beneath their ancient canopy. That suited Dima Prime perfectly. Her arrival was not a spectacle, no crack of thunder, no war-chant tearing through the night. She preferred it this way tonight: quiet, composed, respectful of the world Gerwald had invited her into. And yet, even without ceremony, her presence rippled outward like heat off a forge.

She moved at the perimeter of the clearing, dark scales gleaming by moonlight, her four arms occupied with the slow, deliberate work of preparing for the hunt. Armaments, each with love and faith hammered into their cores, rested across an obsidian rack she'd assembled from collapsible plates of her war-armor. She examined each blade as though greeting an old friend. The weight. The edge. The memory. The song each one sang when she dragged a thumb across the flat.

Hunts like this were...pleasant. A reprieve, almost. Little here could truly threaten her, she had slain gods, titans, wyrms that could swallow starships whole. The Cerynth, beautiful though it was, would be little more than exercise. Practice for her aim. A chance to stretch her divine weapons against the flesh of something noble.

But that wasn't why she had come. Tonight was about observation. About opportunity. About strengthening the fragile bridge between the Sith and the Mandalorian Empire. She watched the dark siders from the corner of her eye as they prepared, some with discipline, some with barely concealed nerves. And Dima found herself mildly amused that so many of them avoided her gaze entirely, scattering like startled birds whenever she so much as tilted her head in their direction.

She couldn't truly blame them. Approachable was not a word that had ever been used for Prime.

Still...a shame. She'd hoped more of them would have the spine to speak to her.

Her attention, however, kept drifting toward the center of the clearing, toward the man who had called them all here. Gerwald Lechner , draped in the wilderness as if born from the bark of the planet itself, stood beneath the banners with the quiet authority of a storm waiting to break. The firelight caught the edges of his silhouette, half-shadow, half-flame. A predator who carried nobility the way she carried faith: instinctively.

Dima's eyes lingered. Longer than she'd intended.

A man after her own heart, if she had ever seen one.

As he lifted the hunting horn to his lips, she felt a flicker of recognition, her own Gjallerhorn answered in the back of her mind, a mythic pulse. A call of the hunt echoed in both of them, though shaped by different gods, different worlds.

The horn's cry split the forest with primal resonance.

Around her, the Sith straightened. Warriors readied themselves. The Cerynth stirred beyond the treeline.

Dima exhaled, slow and steady, her breath curling in the cold air like smoke from a sacred brazier. She slid one of her blades into its brace clasp across her back and rolled her shoulders beneath the layered mantle of ceremonial fur. Her body eased into a familiar readiness, predatory grace settling into her bones.

She did not step forward yet. This was not her stage.

But she wondered, quietly, privately, whether Gerwald knew that among the many hunters answering his call...another predator had fixed her gaze on him as well as she lifted a clawed hand off to his side and waved girlishly towards the many sith before her. "Game on lovelies, try to keep your wits about you~"

 

[Varin Mortifer]

A slow inhale followed by a slower exhale filled then left his lungs. The heavy scent of pine filled his nostrils as again he breathed, the wind gave off its soft whistle, the breath of the planet itself, whispering, calling. His eyes remained closed as he sat by the fire, the murmurs of strangers around him. He blotted them out, focused on the trails around them. It felt like he was hunting in his backyard again. Though this wasn’t just for survival, this was a proving. A rite of passage for most cultures, he would not shame that.

The fire crackled quietly as it bathed him and his crew in warmth, along with the scent of burning wood. He didn’t know if the others had ever been on a hunt quite like this, of course he wanted them to come with him. His battle brothers Lysander and Naamino, and the newest arrival a possible soon to be battle sister Naniti. She had proven herself a couple of times in his eyes. Light on her feet with Lysander’s quick wits and Naamino’s charismatic leadership, this hunt would truly test them all.

How exciting…

His eyes opened as Ignati spoke, splitting the silence in his head like a maul to a log.

How long has it been, boy? Years for you but not even a blink of an eye for me. Let's hope it’s still like muscle memory for you.

Varin looked down at his lap at what rested across his knees. An ornate dagger, ripped from the antler and bone of a hunt he had completed years prior on his home world. A blackened antler forked towards the pommel and the blade of bone set into the guard, runes carved on its side along with a detailed picture of an antlered creature he had hunted before. A gift from the creature that had presented itself to him, a weapon he coveted the most from his armory. Not for the memories, but for the significance of the creature's sacrifice so that he could eat for the coming nights.

His gaze tore from the blade to Gerwald as he spoke of the forest's trials and tribulations. And of the cunning prey that eludes them all, for now. Varin knew one thing about hunting that was vital, it was based on luck and if the creature deems you worthy enough to offer itself. Hunting skills will make it easier but it is not always the final judgement. Varin had come a good ways when it came to controlling himself since he sparred with Lord Lechner. But the forest always finds new lessons.

He looked at the crew that would be joining him as the horn raised. A smirk of excitement came to his lips.

“Who all here has experience with hunting?”

He spoke softly as he watched over his brethren and guest.

“We are in for a wild night, I can feel it in my bones. The scent of prey in the air, it calls to us.”

Slowly he sheathed his hunting dagger and hooked it to his belt, he then reached beside him grabbing an axe and holstering it to his back.

“I’m all ears for any kind of plan.”

Lysander von Ascania | Naamino Zuukamano | Naniti | Gerwald Lechner​

 

[Skadi Lightbane]

Location: Stewjon
Tags: Open!
Outfit/Gear: This

​

Skadi had caught wind that there was to be a Hunt taking place on a planet known as Stewjon, and of course the young Valkyri woman couldn’t help her desire to be a part of it. Hunting was something she took immense pride and pleasure in, and her more traditionally styled clothes were fashioned from the bones and hides of creatures she had slain herself over the years. So she made her journey across the galaxy until she came upon Stewjon, joining the other warriors and those who wished to try their hand at hunting.

The young woman took stock of those who had arrived, seeing a few familiar faces while others she didn’t know at all. Attached to her back was a traditional bow that she had made herself, along with a quiver of arrows. While others may have brought their blasters or glow swords, she preferred to carry more physical and traditional weapons - those that she had been trained on since childhood.

Skadi recognized members of the Second Legion - those whom she knew to be led by the great warrior, Gerwald Lechner . His son, Aerik, had caught her eye and she hoped to see him on Stewjon, participating in the Hunt too. Part of her secretly hoped to revel in the Hunt with him, though she made no indication of such to anyone else. Something about the young Sith warrior drew her in, though she wasn’t entirely certain on what that something was yet. All she knew was that she felt a sense of kinship whenever she saw him. Perhaps it was because they both shared a love for good mead? Or perhaps the age-old tradition of sitting around a fire and telling sagas or playing games?

Maybe she could show off her skills and prowess by participating in this Great Hunt and if she made a kill, then who better to share it with?

Maybe then his face would stop haunting her dreams at night…or maybe those dreams would just increase tenfold? Not that she truly minded, of course. He was rather pleasant to look at, if she did say so herself.

The young shieldmaiden blinked rapidly to clear her thoughts and refocus her attention on the one known as Gerwald as he took up a horn and addressed those gathered.

“You enter alone. The forest does not care about your titles or accomplishments. Leave the noise of war behind. The Cerynth knows this land better than any of us. If you force the trail, it will sense it. If you forget your surroundings, you will lose it. Watch the soil. Watch the branches. The forest will show you the truth if you pay attention. This place speaks with more honesty than any council. Let it judge you. Meet it with a clear mind.”

Skadi felt her heart beat a little faster as excitement flooded her veins, something she always felt before going out on a hunt. The last one she’d been on had been with her Father and youngest brother, and together they had gone out to hunt a wild stag caraboose, and ended up having to kill a dangerous snow demon that had stalked them through the frozen vales of their homeworld. Skadi reached up to lightly thumb the fang that hung just below her throat, her trophy for helping kill the creature.

On this Hunt, however, she wouldn’t be stalking after the fluffy big nosed stags or the lethal, purple tongued snow demons - but a creature known as a Cerynth. Along with everyone else too, it would seem. At least there was the possibility of some competition, she rather liked the idea of that.

Her anticipation and excitement only grew as the horn was lifted, and just before the signal was given to begin the hunt, Skadi offered up a prayer to Éar, the Valkryi goddess of the hunt, asking her patron for guidance and good fortune, for she had a feeling she was going to need every bit of it - and maybe just a smidge of luck, too. ​

 

[Aerik Lechner]

WEARING: xxx | TAG: Skadi Lightbane | Open​

Stewjon smelled exactly how he remembered it. The scent of pine and rain soaked earth filled his nostrils. This was the first time his feet had touched the ground of the planet where Aerik had learned to hunt. While he had not been raised among the people like his father had been, the world and the forest that surrounded him felt more like home than any place he had lived. Jutrand was too urban, and the politics of living there were never ending. The Academy had not been better. It had been more concentrated. Dromund Kaas was different, though it was the same in other ways. It always rained.

A LOT!

Aerik did not mind the rain on Stewjon. It brought life to the woods. His ears could hear it all. Large game came out of their hiding to enjoy the soak. Smaller animals took advantage of the bugs, insects, and worms, which came to the surface on days and nights like this. Everything was alive, and he could feel it. His training had made him sensitive to the various life forms around him. Beast Language and Beast Control were skills that had come natural to him.

Perhaps that was an unfair advantage for this hunt.

He had been a much younger pup the last time Gerwlad had taken him on this hunt. Aerik, Kole, and Vera, all of them took to the woods naturally. It had been that particular hunt where their father had told them about what they were, or might be. That had also been the night he had told them they would be enrolled in the Jutrand Academy when they returned. The triplets had made the most of their time in the forests near their family home. They had even discovered the cabin which Gerwald had shared with his siblings. Palm-Imer had met them on one of those days.

Aerik could still feel the bond which had been formed between them. She had said a similar bond had existed between her and his father. Now that he was older, Aerik was confident he had deduced what the difference between those bonds had been.

That felt like ages ago, even though it had only been six short years. Now with his feet in the soil of the forest he called his own…

…everything was right.

Darth Prazutis did not even argue with the young pup when he mentioned he wanted to go. For all the bad blood his father had with the man, Aerik found the Zambrano to be reasonable at times. Was the man violent, there was no questioning that. The young Lechner knew full well what the Shadow Hand had done to his mother and father. He knew why Gerwald hated the man and wanted him dead. It was an ironic twist of fate or the force which had seen the day a son of the Dread Wolf apprenticed to Prazutis.

The pup took in a deep breath one more time. He wanted to remember the woods. Aerik wanted to memorize the scent. Burning wood gave off the smell of smoky pine. Rain hitting the earth dampened the sharpness of it. Wet trees were their canopy, but gave off a lifegiving aroma. All of it came together to make the forest a sanctuary, and the clearing, their temple.

His fire colored eyes regarded each of the hunters. A smile pulled at his lips when they landed on Skadi Lightbane . It was only natural she would have accepted his father’s open invitation. She still did not know why Gerwald was called the Dread Wolf, though by now she had likely heard all of the rumors. Aerik had still kept his nature hidden from her as well. While he could use it to exploit her family’s loyalty, he did not want to, not yet anyway.

He moved her direction while his father spoke. The rain was reminiscent of the day she came to Dromund Kaas. Both of them had been thoroughly soaked by the time he led her to the palace which his master occupied. The Valkyri wanted to know what it was to be Sith. Aerik was convinced she wanted to be one. Whether she committed to their way or returned to take the place her father expected of her was yet to be seen.

“I could have guessed this would be an invitation you could not resist,” he whispered as father finished his speech.

Aerik was impressed. For a man who said he was not good with words, Gerwald always seemed to find them when he needed to. His shoulder nudged the girl as he moved off to join the hunters from Stewjon.

“C’mon, even with the force to help the others, the locals know this forest better than anyone here save my father.”

He continued to make his way all the while looking to see if the Dread Wolf had brought his apprentices with him, and if his mother would be among them as well.

 

[Skadi Lightbane]

Location: Stewjon
Tags: Aerik Lechner - Open!
Outfit/Gear: This​

​

The Valkyri woman breathed in deeply, savoring the scent the damp forest had to offer those who had come to stalk through its pines, meadows and underbrush. The sight of it was both new and familiar to Skadi; it was new in the way that it looked nothing like her homeworld of Toola, but familiar in the way the anticipation of a coming hunt built within her, and familiar in its offered wildness. Where her world was a place of frigid ice and snow, Stewjon was green and verdant and full of life.

Something about it settled deep in her heart, her soul, and it was something she was pondering on when she felt a familiar presence approach from behind her. Skadi turned her head to look over her shoulder, and felt her heart skip a beat within her chest as she beheld Aerik Lechner step up beside her. She wasn’t like most women who tried to hide their shocked expressions behind polite veils or gossipy whispers; no, she openly stared at the young Sith man, bare chested as he was.

“I could have guessed this would be an invitation you could not resist,” Aerik whispered as his sire finished his speech. Skadi gave the young man a half smirk, her eyes glimmering with both agreement as well as appreciation for what she was seeing.

“Hmm is that so?” she replied as the horn sounded, signaling the beginning of the Great Hunt. “Seems you are getting to know me better, Aerik.” It was clear that she’d been practicing the more commonly spoken Basic tongue, and though her accent was thick, her words were clear enough to understand. His shoulder brushed her own as he bid her to come along with him, explaining that the locals knew the forest better than anyone else who had gathered thus far, even if others were aided by the Force, and it was something she took note of as she stepped up to walk stride for stride with the Sith warrior, her head lifted in her usual confident manner.

“I was hoping to see you here, you know. I wanted to go hunting with you.” Skadi admitted openly, glancing at him to see how her statement was received, letting her eyes flicker over him once more. On Toola, she would have never seen one of her clan’s warriors dressed in so little; the cold weather was simply too harsh for such things.

Though cold dips were a way for the men of her Clan to bond and have some form of competition. It wasn’t something she understood, though it was certainly entertaining to watch grown men jump into frigid waters and go running to their mates, or a roaring hearth, afterwards for warmth.

“Have you been hunting before, Aerik? I assume so, but I am curious all the same for the answer.” ​

 

[Naamino Zuukamano]

Deep Core
Stewjon
Tags: Varin Mortifer Lysander von Ascania Naniti
Wearing
Wielding: Zhaboka, Vibroblade, Length of Fibrocord
​

The environment here was quite a bit different than what he’d grown accustomed to on Korriban or what he’d grown up with on Wistril, but Naamino felt a sense of belonging all the same. Never one for massive city planets or too much time spent cooped up on a ship for long interstellar travel, the zabrak much preferred somewhat more rural or natural surroundings.

Instead of his usual dark apprentice attire, or the more traditional Iridonian robes he often wore, Naami was sporting layered garments dyed in more natural forest shades. He held a fine looking Zhaboka in one hand, had a blade tucked into his belt and wore a bundle of looped fibrocord on his hip. The Sith soldier was otherwise unadorned, as he'd come here to hunt and take brief reprieve from his mounting responsibilities to the Order.

Listening to their host explain the rich tradition of the hunt, Naamino cast a glance toward those he'd come with, wondering how ready each of them felt. Lysander was always confident even without expertise to back him up, Varin almost certainly had some experience hunting considering his background, but Nanati was the wildcard of their little group. At least as far as Naami was concerned.

"I've got more experience hunting in grasslands, but my uncle took me to do some tracking in the rainforest west of where I grew up."

He answered simply, readying himself for the first step into the woods.

 

[Darth Prazutis]

​

The twin moons of Stewjon hung low over the pines, their light pooling in the mist that clung to the forest floor. The air smelled of wet bark, cold soil, and old rain. In a clearing cut from the trees, the Kainate had drawn a circle. Torches stood in a precise ring, flames steady, spaced like sentry posts. A few darkened sensor pylons and unopened crates marked that this had begun as a military landing zone, and then, by order, been stripped down. There were no searchlights, no hum of generators, just simple fire and breath.

The hunters waited.

Closest to the center stood a tight formation of Hands of the Dyarchy, cloaks hanging still in the chill air. Their armor was lean and quiet, matte plates over shadow-cloth, marked not with rank tabs but with small, precise sigils only the Dyarchy used. These were not field officers or common assassins. Every Hand here had ended campaigns with a single corpse, broken cabals with a single whisper. They watched the dark beyond the torches with the relaxed stillness of people who had killed in stranger places than this.

Opposite them, half in the mist, stood a Shikkari Cell. Their vestments were more ritual than uniform, layered in dark hides and threadworked scripture, faces hidden behind masked helms. Thin cords of talismans and bone hung from belts and wrists, whispering against one another when they moved. The Force lay around them like a coiled chant, sharp, occult, and patient. Their old names, taken at induction, were never spoken here, but their reputations moved through the Kainate in low, careful tones. They were reborn in sacred fire and ash.

Threaded between Hands and Shikkari were the Sith Hunters of the Kainate proper, those of the Sith Kabal. Two Lords and a small number of seasoned knights, the kind whose service records were mostly black ink. They wore pared-down war-gear instead of full plate, but the Force that wrapped them was heavy as storm weather, restless and ready. Near the tree line, slimmer figures in sensor-webbed harnesses watched everything with analytic calm, Shadow Mind xenologists and field observers, their pauldrons marked with cog-and-serpent sigils. Holoslates and dart rifles hung beside restraint tags and stasis clamps. There were no junior analysts here; each had been chosen because they had already dissected a dozen wars and a hundred species in service to the Shadow Mind.

Out on the far flank, a Graug war-tracker and two handpicked scouts of the Dark Legion loomed like boulders at the edge of the light. The chieftain's hide armor was layered over scarred gray flesh, tusks and teeth catching stray fireglow. His nostrils flared as he tasted the scents in the mist. The rest of his pack had been left offworld. Tonight was not about numbers. It was about the nose that always found blood and the hands that always brought it back.

Positioned right at the axis of it all stood the Shadow Hand. This day black plate didn't shroud his form. Instead? The Zâvrai Kôzkar, the Veil of the Shadow Reign, wrapped him in living darkness. The Shikkari Death-Weave clung and flowed in the torchlight, folds shifting with a will of their own. Shikkari Shadow-Silk drank the fire, so that His outline blurred and sharpened with each slow breath. Blood-forged aurodium runes smoldered along the hems and mantle like banked coals, each sigil a bound curse. Where the fabric brushed the air, the light seemed to thin and fray. The night didn't swallow Him so much as bend around Him, pushed aside by the abyss He carried.

He let the silence hold until even the Graug stilled. "Look at it." Prazutis said at last. He faced the trees, not the hunters then his eyes gazing outwards to the darkened woodland. "The wild." The Dark Lord went on, voice low and carried easily. "Older than banners. Older than war. It endures empires and forgets names." He turned back to the circle. "This world keeps a creature it calls Cerynth." He said. "Bronze hide. Iridescent plumage. Antlers that carry light. It hears danger in the bend of a leaf and feels intent on the wind. The locals revere it as harmony."

A beat. "I see refined instinct." He said. "And prey that does not make itself easy." A weapon rack had been set between two torches: Hunting rifles stripped of ornament, bows, spears, machetes, knives. Not the arsenal sleeping in the dropships. Tools from before orbital bombardment and laser weaponry. Each delicately forged in the darkest foundries to serve the Sith. Prazutis laid one hand lightly on the rack. The Death-Weave tightened along His arm as if tasting the metal. "You were brought here." He said "Because you are among the sharpest edges I own. Hand. Shikkari. Sith. Tracker. You have ended dynasties without battles and silenced rebellions before they had names. Out there." He angled His shrouded head toward the trees, "None of that matters. The Cerynth will not care what rank you hold, or what world you broke."

The Dark Lords gaze passed over each group in turn. "Hands of the Dyarchy. You are the knives that slip between ribs and treaties. You have hunted men through palaces and void stations. The forest will not follow your schedules, and the Cerynth will not behave like a courtier. Adjust. Shikkari Blades. You have killed under a hundred suns in a hundred tongues. You know poisons, shadows, and holy death. Tonight, let your rites serve the hunt itself. Listen to the land as keenly as you listen to scripture." The Dark Lord paused, His gaze sweeping over the Adherents of the Eternal Rule, those New Sith of the Sith Kabal. "Sith. You bend the Force until worlds buckle. You can end a life with a gesture. If you stand at the edge of these trees and crush the Cerynth unseen, you will have proven nothing. You will hunt. You will stalk. You will earn the moment you decide to kill, or not." He tipped His head toward the Graug trackers.

"Graug. You remember what the Hunt is better than most. Use your strength. Use your nose. Use your patience. Tear up the forest for sport, and you will drive the Cerynth away. Bring me something living, and you will eat well." His attention flicked at last to the xenologists. "Shadow Mind. You observe. Record behavior, patterns, how our own adapt when stripped of machines. You do not lead the hunt. You do not call the shots. You watch, and you remember." He stepped back from the rack. The runes along His sleeves pulsed once, throwing brief, ugly highlights across the nearest faces before dimming. "Rules." He said, letting the word fall like an order stamped into metal.

"No powered exoskeletons. No walkers. No speeders. No aerial reconnaissance. No seeker droids. The perimeter we landed with remains dormant until the Hunt is finished. You may take one primary weapon from this stand, a rifle, bow, spear, or blade. You may keep your sidearm. Cloak, pack, basic gear. Nothing more." The shadows around His mantle seemed to curl closer as He added, "The Force is not forbidden. Use it as a hunter's tool. Heighten your senses. Hasten your step. Cloak your presence. Reduce this to a demonstration of brute power, and you will learn nothing worth the blood." He let the forest speak. Far beyond the torches, a branch snapped. A thin, chiming call threaded through the pines, not a roar, but something bright and strange. A few heads turned toward it without thinking. "There." Prazutis murmured. "The forest is already moving its pieces."

He straightened. The whispers in the Death-Weave seemed to hush with Him. "The objective is simple. You will locate a Cerynth. You will out think it, outlast it, and take it alive. A breeding pair, or specimens of different age and sex, are worth more. A dead Cerynth is pelt and bone. A living one is knowledge. I did not cross half the galaxy for trophies." The twin moons hung cold above His shrouded head. "I have not come to impress farmers." He said. "I have come to sharpen my hunters. To acquire specimens worthy of study. I will remember the names of those who return with something more than excuses." Near the edge of the clearing, a horn of black metal and bone was raised. Its first note rolled out over the woods, dark and deep, startling birds from distant branches and making the torches tremble. Shadows thickened around Zâvrai Kôzkar as Prazutis stepped aside from the rack.

"When the horn sounds." He said, as its call faded, "You will come forward, take your weapon, and break from the circle. Hunt alone. In pairs. In packs. I will not dictate the shape of your instincts. Simply hunt them down and bring them before me." The last echo died among the trees. "The Hunt begins." The first of the Kainate's finest stepped up to claim their tools and vanished, one by one and then in silent clusters, into the silver-dark forest. The clearing emptied, the torches hissed in the damp, and Stewjon's wild watched silently to see what walked beneath its moons tonight.

​

 

[Darth Valar]

Stewjon was not a planet that Valar could claim to have stepped upon before. It was a strange sight under the pale glow of its orbiting moons, with lush forests stretched across the horizon, their still forms serene under the soft trill of woodland creatures that fluttered through the gaps between towering trees, their leaves covered in a gleam of mildew. Located far from the frequent fighting that had ravaged the Galaxy, there was a peaceful calm that defied the presence of multiple Sith, gathered here by the presence of the one that many called The Dread Wolf. A native of this world, if what she'd heard was true, looking around, she could imagine it as she gazed between the approaching form of Gerwald Lechner and the border of the clearing.

There was a weight to his eyes, a reverence she was unable to grasp, as he stared across the sprouts of grass and the elderly trees that stretched towards the sky, impressive in stature, if nothing out of the ordinary for a Galaxy, which had many sights to see. The people he greeted with recognition, a look shared and received in turn. Valar was sure she'd heard stories of Sith that had killed for less. Amused with the thought, she wondered how many of those snakes would hiss in anger to find how easily such gestures were shared; more importantly, she wondered how many of them would fail to understand the reason why.

Even fewer would believe the wisdom he shared.

A mistake, and not one she intended to make as she stared past the Stewjoni native, and towards the forest that had carved a young man into the shape she found before her. An ancient teacher, with more students than the mind could fathom. What lessons it could possess for one such as herself, she did not know. The uncertainty enticed her, a leap into the unknown.

She closed her eyes to the world around her, welcoming the other senses. Valar inhaled the crisp scent of fresh pine and the deep textures of mulched earth, freshly moistened by recent rainfall, that danced beneath her nose. Not unlike the whisper-quiet footsteps of land-bound animals, their footsteps, a gentle pitter-patter against the soft ground. She exhaled into the gentle press of cold mist, refreshing against the curve of her jaw and sneaking through the flowing layers of her inner robes, hastened to her body with the dull metal plates that clinched to her torso and arms, the gaps covered by a thin layer of synthweave.

Golden eyes flickered open to the roar of the horn, and Darth Valar launched forward.

Tags: OPEN​

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Varin Mortifer Naniti Naamino Zuukamano​

Lysander’s connection to hunting ran deeper than sport. The practice had been woven into his upbringing. Back on Ukatis, among the highborn, the pursuit of stag and boar was a ritual. He too, had witnessed the same of those less privileged, where smaller game often sufficed. Somehow, even then, it bound everyone together in a shared tradition. Hunting taught him lessons beyond the chase. Perhaps, the most important of these, was an appreciation for those quiet moments between movement.. a feeling he was already beginning to taste here in the camp. And maybe that was why, as dawn crept ever closer, his gaze, sweeping over to the violet Togruta, carried more meaning.

In this untamed region of Stewjon, there was only respect for the challenge ahead. Here, the brutal struggles of Desevro were distant. Among friends rather than academy rivals, there was a very rare sense of unity.. a space to inhale freedom.

His attire mirrored the terrain. A long sleeve shirt extended to his forearms, snug at but still offered room for movement. Cargo pants matched the same tones, and worn boots rose to his calves.

Words which fell from Gerwald Lechner moved through him, conjuring both memory and loss. For a small stretch, he reflected on the paths he traveled alone in the Outer Rim, wisdom gained from mistakes, and those he lost along the way. Whatever lesson awaited him now, he vowed to face it with a tempered heart. At least.. as much as a Sith could, that was.

Once the horn's cry split the air, his attention was drawn to the others. Lysander’s lips pressed together to conceal a smile when he glanced at Varin with a lift of the brow. A low chuckle escaped seconds later. “When have we ever had an outing that didn’t turn into a wild one?” Somewhere in the weave of their many adventures lay trust. They’d yet to find a challenge that could break them.

“We could spread lightly,” Lysander offered. “Not too far, of course, just enough to cover ground and catch signs without alarming them. It would make sense to move at angles instead of a straight line. Make us less predictable. The wedges will let us see far more, respond faster, and keep the Cerynth guessing.”

Without thinking, fingertips traced the curve of his bow. A gentle lift in the teen's cheeks softened his expression once more as he met the Zabrak. “Naamino, this is Naniti. We’ve covered more ground than you might guess.. she can hold her own, and has a good eye.”

His boots pressed forward. “There’s a couple ways we could approach this, but I’d prefer we settle on one as a group.”

 

[Naniti]

Naniti had just popped an almond in her mouth when Lysander's gaze fell upon her with a strange sort of look. A man in deep thought. She froze before she even started to chew on the nut for a moment as though he'd captured a snapshot in time, or the Togruta questioned whether she should be eating a nut at that moment. Then the slow first chew to test the waters. What? She they were about to go hunting. Why shouldn't she have a little protein? As a carnivore (or predominantly so) a thick steak would have been better, but there'd be enough meat later.

After she swallowed, the violet woman extended a small bag in Lysander's direction with raised brows. All that thinking might make him hungry too.

Shortly afterward, his attention turned to Gerwald. Naniti stowed the small bag away in a pouch and listened to what the man had to say. Unlike Lysander, however, she didn't find what was said particularly striking. It wasn't that he was spouting nonsense, but the young Acolyte simply didn't gain any new insight to what was to come. Perhaps it'd been her upbringing. Maybe it was arrogance. Whatever it was, she stood patiently still and waited for the hunt to begin.

Varin started off wanting to know if any of them had experience hunting in the forest. A sensible inquiry. Then Naamino replied they had. Lysander Varin already knew, so he didn't bother answering directly, but instead suggested a tactic; and made an introduction between the two of the group that had no met previously.

Naniti looked over at Naamino to whom she gave a nod. "Good to meet you. I have hunting experience, but not as a group. But I'll carry my weight." Also her hunting had involved a different sort of prey than the sort they were after, but hunting was hunting. What mattered was learning what this particular prey's habits were and exploiting them. Just like any other.

Her blue eyes fell back to Lysander after a moment. As she'd expected his strategy as a group was similar to flushing out a different sort of quarry. Not that her instruction had involved a lot of coordinated efforts like that. It didn't sound too difficult long as they got their pacing right.

"If we spot it, do we surround it so it can't escape, or try to take it whether anyone else is positioned to support?" If Lysander preferred group play then it sounded like the former, but Naniti wanted to know. Again, group hunting -- especially with a few members she barely knew -- wasn't he specialty. There'd probably be a few new things she'd learn during this trip.

Lysander von Ascania | Varin Mortifer | Naamino Zuukamano

 

[Varin Mortifer]

Varin began getting his attire together, a very minimalistic approach. Blackened combat pants and boots. The rest was just camo from the planet, using its scent to cover his. He started using the mud to coat himself for his main portion of camo. Everything else he would collect on the way.

“The angles will definitely work, keeping us all in sight of each other and our prey. I also recommend some of us get high ground, most prey tend to not look up.”

He finished getting himself together as Naniti finished her question.

“I recommend that if you see the creature before the group catches up, do not fully engage. Try to flush it towards us. If that is not possible, then taking it yourself is the only option. If need be, I can also try to flush it out with smoke.”

Varin ran his thumb over the hilt of his hunting knife. The memories were flooding back to him. Small techniques and know-hows. His people always used the land as their camouflage. Creatures were always used to the scent of nature.

“Remember, this is not our territory anymore. Keep your eyes open for any dangerous flora or fauna.”

The horn’s cry had split the air, breaking the silence as it echoed off the trees, only to be swallowed by that silence once more. Varin began to make his way into the forest. He did not rush, he was an intruder, and an intruder studies and observes their prey before running in. At least, if they’re smart.

Lysander von Ascania | Naamino Zuukamano | Naniti​

 

[Selene Valeheart]

HUNT OF THE CERYNTH

Wearing: Link
Tags: Irina Jesart


This was Selene’s first proper visit to Stewjon, after having heard about it from her Master. Her training had been solely on Jutrand so far, in part because of Gerwald’s responsibilities having him travel a lot. But now here she was, on her Master’s homeworld to take part in what was probably one of the planet’s most important events.

The Great Hunt.

She had done her due diligence, reading up on the past seasons that had taken place. For while Vale had the more innate talent with their Lupine abilities, Selene was much more studious.

Their target was to be the Cerynth, a creature famous for its dexterity and heightened senses. Able to manoeuvre through the dense forest with ease, and pick up any potentially predators before even laying eyes on them. It would prove to be a truly challenging task to track and take down.

Most especially with how many people had joined this season.

Selene glanced around, taking in the faces that were present. While the intent was to enter alone, it seemed some were already pairing, or even grouping together. Not that Selene wasn’t already doing the same thing. After all, she was here to hunt alongside Irina, her fellow apprentice.

This wasn’t just an individual test for them, but to also see if the Dread Wolf’s apprentices could work together.

As Gerwald began to speak, the raven-haired Sith stood to attention. She could feel an energy; an excitement, thrumming within her, resonating with what awaited deep within the forest. Selene knew it was her Lupo blood talking, at least from what her Master had explained at least. That, and her rather ‘unique situation’ with her other-half.

Valeheart might have the reins, but they weren’t completely out of Selene’s reach.

Glancing to her side, Selene looked over at Irina. Her focus was on their Master as he spoke, but she caught the occasional, subtle looks sent Aerik’s way. It seemed he was conversing with someone, another dark-haired young woman who seemed at least somewhat familiar with the young Lechner.

Ah, so that’s it.

Selene mused to herself, tempted to tease her fellow apprentice, but thought better of it. Their minds needed to be focused, especially as Gerwald reached for the horn.

“You ready?” She asked quietly, while double-checking she had all her gear ready to go. A bow, sword, two shorter blades and an assortment of tools on her belt. It might’ve been smarter to bring some actual tech to this hunt, but something about keeping it simple for this hunt spoke to Selene.

 

[Ghruna]

"This place speaks with more honesty than any council. Let it judge you. Meet it with a clear mind.”

Ghruna was a Maldrani. A world run by three kings. She was the daughter of one of those kings. By itself, the bloodline bestowed no power upon her Jhyrack had many, many children.

Despite being minotaurs of great stature, their home planet was a hell of great predators roamining stark mountains. Proving oneself against beasts was ingrained in their culture.

Ghruna felt that Gerwald's comments spoke of a personal frustration with councils - she could understand that, not being a great fan of conversation - but she felt her blood rise at his speech.

The clearing buzzed with low voices. Many had gathering beneath the pale shimmer of Stewjon’s moon. Ghruna stood a little apart from them, arms folded, watching the treeline as if the forest itself were a rival she intended to stare down.

She glanced around at the others.

“Who all here has experience with hunting?”

He spoke softly as he watched over his brethren and guest.

He held a fine looking Zhaboka in one hand, had a blade tucked into his belt and wore a bundle of looped fibrocord on his hip.

She had seen Varin in combat. Ferocious. But could he track? The zabrak he was with looked prepared for the hunt. Ghruna briefly narrowed her eyes at the competition.

Skadi offered up a prayer to Éar, the Valkryi goddess of the hunt,

She glanced at another who looked ready for the hunt. Ghruna quickly turned away, not wanting to intrude on another's faith.

Heavy footsteps approached behind her.

Jhyrack clapped an enormous hand onto her shoulder. The Maldraani king’s silhouette eclipsed the torchlight, broad as a war-gate and twice as solid. He carried something wrapped in hide cloth.

“Daughter,” he said. “A hunt deserves a proper weapon.”

He unwrapped the cloth.

The spear that emerged was old by Maldraani standards, which meant it had only been drenched in blood a few dozen times. Its haft was blackened bonewood; the blade was a wide flat arc of steel.

“This," Jhyrack proudly announced," is my third favourite spear."

Ghruna accepted the weapon with both hands. It was heavy. Jhyrack watched her test its balance, his grin widening when she adjusted her stance without complaint.

“A Cerynth sounds an interesting hunt,” he rumbled. “Track well, do me proud.”

Ghruna snorted softly. “If it runs, I catch it.”

“If it fights?” he asked.

She glanced up at him, the corner of her mouth twitching toward a smile.
“Then it dies.”

Jhyrack laughed, deep and approving.

“Good! I shall be drinking and fighting."

She wondered why he even announced that. It was effectively his regular state of being. Jhyrack turned away from her and took two strides before glancing back over his huge shoulders.

"Do well! Remember third favourite spear. Do not break it."

Ghruna turned back toward the forest, spear settling comfortably across her shoulder. She was surprised that he hadn't announced that she was his fifth favourite daughter.

 

[Naamino Zuukamano]

Deep Core
Stewjon
Tags: Lysander von Ascania | Varin Mortifer | Naniti
Wearing
Wielding: Zhaboka, Vibroblade, Length of Fibrocord
​

Appreciative to Lys for the smooth introduction, Naami’s rather icy exterior softened just slightly as existing bonds between the young men served to ease whatever doubts Naamino might’ve had about a stranger in their hunting party. He merely grunted his affirmation with a faint nod of that horned head when she insisted that she’d carry her weight.

“Well met.”

At the horn’s call, Naamino casually spun the zhaboka in his hand as if testing the heft of it, before he strode into the forest a bit behind and spread out some as several of their pack had put forward. His low voice rumbled toward his companions as they began their quest.

”Boys, you remember your hand signing from Academy?” With his free hand he indicated ‘forward’ and ‘quiet’ as if the question was rhetorical.

”Dunno if you’ve read up on these things, Naniti, but the greatest risk of direct engagement is the cerynth fleeing. I say we track, isolate a member of the herd or surround an individual, and attack as one if possible. If you have the killing blow, its yours to take.”

He lowered his voice further and crouched a bit as he continued their momentum forward, eyes beginning to scan for tracks and game trails.

”Lys is probably best suited for the high ground since he’s got reliable range.”

 

[Aerik Lechner]

WEARING: xxx | TAG: Skadi Lightbane | Quinn Varanin | Darth Prazutis​

The pup chuckled at the Valkyri’s reply. It was not that he was getting to know her any better, but rather she had simply revealed enough about her people to tell the apprentice their upbringings had been similar to a certain point. The culture of Stewjon and the culture of her world were too similar. This made Aerik feel alive for many reasons.

The primary reason was the predator which clawed within to be let loose. This hunt pulled at him in a way that the last one did not. Aerik had not experienced his first change then. This hunt the wolf was fully awakened within. Unfortunately for the beast, it would not be set free in the way it wanted. That part of his nature had to remain a secret. There were still too many eyes, and while there were those of the hunters on Stewjon which had accepted what Gerwald was, Aerik was something more. They would not be as understanding.

Skadi may not be understanding.

Her family revered the wolf. Aerik did not want to be seen as some kind of deity in her eyes. It would give him an influence he was not ready to wield. Even as she followed him, Aerik was weighing out how best to use the leverage he would naturally gain.

A light mist continued to water their surroundings. It was lighter than the storms which constantly fell on Dromund Kaas. His primary forefinger circled upward as he pointed out the clouds above them.

“Not as heavy.”

He was avoiding her question for the moment, and the fact she had been happy to see him among the hunters. Aerik was still learning to navigate his new life on Dromund Kaas. He had recruited Skadi. It had been easy. The Valkyri was hungry for what the dark side could give her, and she seemed to want to prove that she was more than what her family saw, what her father saw. It was the kind of craving which Prazutis could easily shape and mold, but had it been right?

The pup could have told her to seek out his father.

Why hadn’t he?

Aerik had convinced himself that it was because he wanted to improve his standing with his master. The pup certainly knew he needed to endear himself to the Mountain anyway he could. At least that was what he was telling himself.

He caught her looking, but he let it go. The pup did note it was a similar kind of look that Irina seemed to have in her eyes, though Skadi’s seemed a bit more… carnal. It was probably better to answer her question than try to figure out the nuances of women. If he really wanted to know, he could always just talk to Quinn Varanin . She was always straight forward with him about such things.

“I have been on this hunt, once. It was before I went to the academy on Jutrand. I have not been back on Stewjon since.”

A small sort of sadness settled in his eyes at the statement. It was though he understood his time on the world would be limited going forward. He sighed to himself as the pair moved into the group of hunters he had pointed out. A few seemed to remember him, which made the pup smile. A couple of the men nudged him and gave him a few “atta boys” as they nodded their heads toward Skadi. Aerik punched them in the shoulder.

“Nevermind them,” he said to his raven haired partner.

Where was Kole and Vyra… this would have been a great time for them to come tell the hunters to, as Kole would put it, “shove it.”

 

[Skadi Lightbane]

Location: Stewjon
Tag: Aerik Lechner | Open!
Wearing: This​

Skadi noticed that Aerik did not respond to her comment about being happy to see him amongst the other hunters. Instead, he seemed to try and divert the attention elsewhere. He pointed up with a finger to the darkened skies above their heads, mentioning how the rain ‘wasn’t as heavy’ here. And indeed, it wasn’t. Not like how it was on Dromund Kaas. This was a pleasant day compared to what she beheld on the so-called Sith Holy World.

Of course, Skadi was curious as to why he would ignore or avoid her comment, though she didn’t press him about it. She was honest and open about how she felt and she felt no shame for that. If he couldn’t accept it or handle it, then that was on him.

Occasionally, the Valkyri woman would cast her gaze around at the others who had gathered. A couple were looking her way, or at least in the general direction of her and Aerik, and she fearlessly met the eyes of those who did before moving onward. She overheard a smaller group ask who had hunting experience and who didn’t and she smiled faintly. She remembered the first time she ever went hunting; her and her Father and some kinsmen had gone out, though they had come home empty handed. Still, that experience stuck with her. She learned early on that hunting wasn’t all about making the kill - it was the entire experience, even when you struck out on luck.

After several moments of silence between Skadi and Aerik, he finally decided to answer her question. He admitted that he had been on this hunt before, but it had been some time ago - before he had ever gone to the Academy. She noted the hint of sorrow that seemed to cast a shadow in his eyes, sighing as the two of them stepped into the circle of hunters he had pointed out to her moments prior, preventing her from making any further comments or asking any more questions for the time being. Part of her wondered if that was done on purpose.

Some in the group acknowledged Aerik when the two of them approached, and she watched as the young man smiled at their greetings. A few glanced between her and him, then nudged him with comments of “Atta boy!”. She recognized the reactions; it was often similar to when a man in her clan finally bound himself to a mate, and often the other men of the Clan would say roughly the same thing. She smirked as the young warrior punched one man in the shoulder for the comment, not bothering to speak up and purge the assumptions, as it was rather amusing for her.

“Nevermind them.” Aerik rumbled at her, and her smirk widened into a smile as mirth danced in her eyes.

"Their comments do not bother me. It is rather amusing." Skadi replied back to Aerik, keeping her attention on him for a moment longer before glancing at the rest of the hunting party. She thumped her fist to her chest in a sign of greeting and dipped her chin in respect to them, before falling silent, her golden eyes trained on the environment around them. The thrill that came with embarking on a hunt was already flowing through her veins, and the light of it shone in her bright eyes. She was ready to be on her way, eager to test herself against her prey.

 

[Warpriest Prime]

​

O B J E C T I V E | The Great Hunt
L O C A T I O N | Stewjon
G E A R | Gjallerhorn | Celestial Crown | Warpriest Armor

Gerwald Lechner | Skadi Lightbane | Aerik Lechner

O P E N​

Dima stood off to the side with all the enthusiasm of a cat in a thunderstorm as Darth Prazutis delivered his rousing speech to the little Sithlings. She listened...well, mostly listened. Enough to catch the gist. Enough to nod when everyone else nodded. Enough to register that the goal wasn't trophies but knowledge... alive specimens...preferably a breeding pair. Simple instructions. Simple expectations.

But the rest of his grand monologue flowed right over the xeno like riverwater over polished stone.

She wasn't here to hunt. She wasn't here to earn glory or points or whatever Sithlings collected these days. She was here to judge. To inspect. To observe the metal these creatures were forged from. If the divine armaments she had poured faith, sweat, and blood into were ever to find their destined wielders, she needed to see firsthand what the new Sith generation looked like when unleashed. The elders and veterans? Oh, they avoided her like plague-rats fleeing a torch. And fair enough, self-preservation was wise.

But also extremely lame.

Super lame.

Her tail flicked in irritation just thinking about it.

While the acolytes scrambled to form little clusters of "teams" and talk strategy, Dima had already detached herself from the speeches and drama, drifting toward the central weapons rack like a hungry spirit to a shrine. She approached it reverently, claws flexing in the air, and then began plucking weapons out one by one with the professionalism of a jeweler evaluating diamonds.

First a spear; good weight, good balance. She dragged a claw along its bladed edge, sparks spitting out like briefly protesting embers. Dima hummed approvingly and nodded. "Not too shabby~"

Next, a knife. She spun it lazily between her fingers before her face tightened in a faint, offended grimace. "Mmn, too heavy on the blade," she muttered, deeply disappointed. She tried to balance it on the tip of her claw to confirm her suspicion. It wobbled once... twice... and toppled.

Only to be snatched midair by one of her other arms.

She didn't return it to the rack.

No. She turned toward a nearby tree, stabbed the knife so deep into its trunk that it sank halfway to the hilt, and then delivered a sharp palm strike to drive the pommel and handle in flush.

Like hammering a coffin nail.

Once that offense to smithing was handled, she returned to the rack and continued removing subpar pieces like a high priestess purging a desecrated temple. The good weapons she left; the flawed ones she exorcised completely. No permission asked. None needed. Her god demanded no less.

Only when her sacred duty was complete did she finally look up and notice two young acolytes. One a shield-maiden type, the other something demonic in posture and aura, speaking quietly and planning their hunt. Dima's senses perked. Her interest sharpened.

Without invitation, she drifted into their orbit, folding all four arms behind her back with an air of casual command.

"Think I'll tag along with you two," she announced to Aerik Lechner & Skadi Lightbane , voice a purr and a warning all at once. "Can't quite tell why yet, but you seem like my kind of people..." Her five eyes narrowed in good humor. "I hope you prove me right~"

She cast a glance toward the dark forest where dozens of Sithlings were now marching off to make legends, or corpses of themselves.

"Don't fret. I'm not here to steal your glory. The hunt and its rewards are all yours." She stepped forward, tail curling behind her like an eager predator. "I just want to see if you're good enough to claim them for yourselves."

Her smile flashed like a blade in torchlight. "Also, whose the hunk over there and which of you two will introduce me when this is all over?" She mused casually, blurting it out with a high tone whistle leaving her lips while gesturing towards Gerwald Lechner . "Now THAT'S a whole lotta man..."

 

[Irina Jesart]

Wearing: XXX
Direct tag: Selene Valeheart
Mentions: Skadi Lightbane Aerik Lechner​

In all the years she had been with Gerwals, this was the first time he'd seen fit to bring her to Stewjon. She had remembered the way Aerik had spoken about it back at the academy and she had always hoped that her first trip here would have been with him, much like she had wanted to show him her own home before her father had died. Fate had twisted their paths apart, an instead she came here as his father's apprentice. There was a touch of jealousy within her as she glanced sidewards at her partner. That Gerwald saw fit to bring her here so soon when she had had to wait for so long...

She shunted the thought aside. It didn't matter when, it only mattered that she was here. She shifted the weight on her feet, itching to begin but became perfectly still when Gerwald began to speak, her attention solely on him. That was until she caught sight of Aerik Lechner , bare chested and more relaxed than anytime she'd seen him since Erinar, she blinked tearing her eyes away, forcing herself to focus, yet her gaze kept flicking back to him...to him and the woman he chose to approach. Her feet shifted again, her eyes flicked towards Selene. Had she noticed her staring?

She really needed to get a grip.

Irina took a breath and pushed all thoughts of Aerik from her mind. The hunt was important, it was a chance for her and Selene to understand how the other worked she couldn't afford the distraction. Her gaze flicked his way one final time as he playfully nudged the dark haired woman. Irina instantly decided there and then she hated her.

"You ready?"

Her gaze snapped to Selene, then to Gerwald as he lifted the horn, a smile creeping across her face. Like Selene, Irina had left technology behind, feeling the need to face this hunt with skill alone. Knives were set in her boots, a sword at her hip and a spear across her back for the final kill, should they be fortunate enough to catch the beast.

"Absolutely."