Populate THE HUNT FOR TIRA | TSC POPULATE OF EUFORNIS MAJOR

[Emissary of Strife]

THE HUNT FOR TIRA​

The search for the legendary world begins on Jedha, Lehon, and Chandaar; three seemingly unrelated planets linked only by possible evidence of Tira's true location.

Meliant Tamsin Starfall Ra'Shayne Vorr Caelis Venn Mellia Raine Nilira Vornix Acier Moonbound Mercy Quinn Varanin Eurydice Varin Mortifer Madrona A’Mia Vector Monk Efret Farr Delvin jeth Krasskorr the Maw Ziso Kus Kaelyr Lirka Ka Seris Velmora Lysander von Ascania

The Kyber Heart, Jedha, has long been considered a holy world by numerous Force religions. Long ago, a sect of Jedi astronavigators built and maintained a monastery located deep within the desiccated tablelands. There, they constructed a grand observatory and studied the movement of the cosmos and the mysteries of the Force. It is said that their gifts for premonition allowed them to even perceive the future arrangement of stars, allowing them to ascertain the location of objects and worlds that otherwise eluded explorers of their time.

Though now a ruin, the monastery is a site strong in the Light. Even a Sith Lord must be wary of the powers that work against them here.

Brave the ruins, plunder the archives, and overcome the Light!

Spoiler: OOC Notes

Consider this objective to be the inverse of Luke's confrontation in the Cave of Evil, or Ezra Bridger's Jedi trial at the Lothal Temple. Your goal is to overcome the Light and its attempts to dissuade you from the dark path.

Commonly known as Rakata Prime, Lehon was the seat of the vaunted Infinite Empire and the homeworld of the Rakata species. Do not let this seeming tropical paradise fool your perceptions, for Lehon is a planet long tainted in Darkness and contains many secrets yet unraveled. Within an impossibly pristine but abandoned ancient city, there is a prison contained within a massive stone monolith, where the minds of more than a dozen great scholars and scientists are held as punishment for betrayals long forgotten in the madness that now consumes them.

Enter the mind prison, confront the prisoners, and extract the knowledge they hold. Or, barring that, survive and find a way out before you join them in their eternal purgatory.

Spoiler: OOC Notes

This objective is great if you want your character to get lost and have to battle their way through the machinations of an insane prisoner's mind. Ideal if you want to get weird or whimsy with it.

On the Jewel of Tion, one of Xim's legendary vaults has been uncovered and reactivated after millennia of inactivity. Among the treasure hoard within is a sizable data archive of GenoHaradan secrets. However, reaching these spoils will be no easy task. There are traps, war droids, and force-sensitive assassins to contend with, and their sole purpose is to kill graverobbers and ensure that no one touches the works of their mighty Despot.

Delve into the vault, overcome the defenses of a paranoid tyrant, and claim a piece of wealth incomparable... and the data, too, if it pleases you.

Spoiler: OOC Notes

This objective is for those who want to fight or sneak their way past deadly traps and hostile forces.

​

 

[Madrona A’Mia]

​

Tags: Ra'Shayne Vorr & Delvin jeth
​

It was surprising really, how easy it was for A'Mia to infiltrate places she didn't belong and hadn't been invited. She was a shapeshifter after all, so really it was her prerogative. Not only that, but few things in the galaxy could stand between the neti scientist and that which intrigued her.

A unique opportunity had presented itself and she'd taken it without hesitation. That was how the arboreal woman had found herself on Lehon, secreting herself in to a Rakatan mind prison. The odd fleshy species wasn't ideal to mimic but she'd found a green-brown guard on their way to work, helping herself to his uniform and badge. The unfortunate rakata had been stuffed unceremoniously into a trash chute.

Humming merrily, affected eyestalks swiveling to take in the entrance, the disguised neti easily made her way deeper into the facility. The trick was that she hadn't copied the real guard too closely and so she looked like she fit in but wouldn't be accidentally recognized.

Upon reaching a somewhat less populated area, the arboreal woman dropped the act and soon gave into her intense curiosity. The aura of this place was palpable, and though she'd seen examples of more basic mind prisons on Korriban, she was impressed by the scale of this operation.

Careful not to touch anything physically, A'Mia reached out long, red-brown fingers to brush against the air surrounding one particularly impressive specimen. As if she was seeking for the strings of an instrument or threads of a tapestry. Her gaze became distant as she slowly began to bolster her mind with the Force, preparing for a metaphysical journey of sorts.

 

[Caelis Venn]

THE HUNT FOR TIRA



OBJECTIVE 1


​

Tag: //OPEN//

The moment Caelis Venn set foot within the ruins of the Kyber Heart, he knew this would not be a simple trial.
The air itself resisted him.

Not violently—not like an enemy blade or a blaster bolt—but persistently. Like a hand pressed against his chest, urging him to stop. To breathe. To remember.
It disgusted him.

The desiccated tablelands stretched endlessly behind him, but ahead stood the fractured remains of the ancient observatory—its spires broken, its purpose buried beneath time. And yet, the Force here was not diminished.

It was focused.
Waiting.
Caelis pulled his hood lower as he stepped inside, boots echoing against stone worn smooth by centuries of Jedi who believed they could read fate itself in the stars.
“Then let me show you how wrong you were,” he muttered.
The deeper he walked, the quieter the world became—until even his own footsteps seemed swallowed by something unseen.

Then—
“Caelis.”
He froze.
No shift in the air. No dramatic pull into illusion.
Just a voice.
Behind him.
Familiar.
He turned slowly.
And there he was.
His twin.
Standing whole within the ruin as though it had never fallen. Robes untouched by dust. Eyes clear. Calm. Unbroken.
“You’re not real,” Caelis said immediately, though the words lacked the bite they should have carried.

“I’m as real as the part of you that brought me here.”
That answer lingered too long.
Caelis ignited his crimson blade—not in rage, but in defiance. The snap-hiss cut through the silence, painting the ancient walls in violent red.

“I didn’t come here for ghosts.”
His brother didn’t move. Didn’t flinch.
“You came here for answers,” he said. “The same as they did.”
A subtle gesture upward—
The ceiling above them repaired itself.
Stone reformed. The great observatory dome returned, revealing a sky filled with shifting constellations. Stars moved unnaturally, aligning into patterns that felt… deliberate.
Watching.
Judging.

“You think this place will make you stronger,” his brother continued. “But it doesn’t work like that.”
Caelis stepped forward, blade low at his side.
“No,” he said coldly. “It shows the future.”
“Then look.” His brother Kael, said, pointing ahead.

The stars shifted.
And the visions began.
Not distant. Not symbolic.
Immediate.
Violent.
Caelis saw himself—cloaked in black, power radiating from him like a storm. Enemies fell before him. Worlds burned. His strength undeniable.

But behind it—
Nothing.
No one.
Alone.
The vision twisted.
Now—
He stood across from his brother, sabers locked. Not as shadows. Not as echoes.
Real.
Desperate.
Neither able to strike the final blow.

“I won’t become that,” Caelis growled, though whether he meant the solitude… or the hesitation, even he didn’t know.
“You already are becoming it,” his brother replied.
Their surroundings flickered—ruin, observatory, battlefield—never settling, as if the Force itself refused to choose which truth to show him.

Caelis attacked.
Fast. Precise. Fueled by the need to end this.
Their blades met—
And stayed.
Locked.
Neither giving ground.
That was the worst part.
Not that his brother could fight him.
But that he could match him.

“You feel it,” his brother said quietly, their sabers trembling between them. “This place isn’t weakening you… it’s forcing you to face what you’re trying to bury.”
Caelis pushed harder, teeth clenched.

“I buried it already.”
“No,” his brother said. “You ran from it.”
For a split second—
A crack.
Not in the blade.
Not in the Force.
In Caelis.
Rage surged to fill it.
With a roar, he broke the lock and lashed out—
The vision shattered.

He stood alone once more in the ruins.
Breathing hard.
Saber still ignited.
But the silence was different now.
He wasn’t alone.
Not anymore.
The presence lingered—not as a figure he could strike, but as something woven into the very fabric of the Force around him.
A constant pressure.
A constant voice.
A constant pull.

"Caelis…"
His grip tightened.
“Good,” he said under his breath, though his voice carried something darker than confidence—something bordering on obsession.
“You want to follow me?”
He turned, heading deeper into the buried archives beneath the observatory—where ancient star maps and forbidden knowledge waited.
“Then watch.”
His eyes hardened, crimson reflecting faintly in the darkness.
“Because this isn’t over.”
The wind whispered again through the broken halls.
Not fading.
Not ending.
Just coexisting as he continued further and further into the hall, trying to get to him.

​

​

 

[Anet Raine]

Mellia Raine
BELAZURA | PRELUDE​

"Senator--ma'am!"

An aide ran down the hall after Anet.

She turned towards him, "I'll be away for at least the week. I'll check in if I'm delayed."

The blast door slammed shut before she could make sense of now muffled protests. The half-pantoran smirked, turned afoot, and strolled down the quiet corridors of her yacht. Well, technically, it was her father's ship, the Starwind Epiphany. But she had 'borrowed' and made it her home.

Display consoles lit up as she entered the bridge, hailed by the ship's computer.

"Greetings, Miss Raine. Where are we headed today?"

She sank into the comfortable command chair, surrounded by empty stations. Wholly unnecessarily, thanks to expensive and sophisticated automation.

Lazily slouched to one side, hand pressed into her cheek, Anet cleared her throat and exhaled.

"Set course for Lehon by way of Belasco."

A tedious and inefficient detour, but necessary to obfuscate her travels, just in case someone decided to stalk this senator's whereabouts.

"At once."

The starship lifted off, broke atmosphere, and jumped to lightspeed--leaving nothing but a blip and a trajectory in its wake. With nothing but dull hyperspace blue to entertain her, Anet rose from the chair and made for her room... At least that was her plan until she heard a peculiar squeak, like someone's shoe turned too quickly on the smooth floor.

Tsk.

The acolyte left her mask at her desk. Without it, she had no Force to call upon. No perceptions but those ordinary. Worse, she never felt compelled to carry a weapon, though her hand instinctively reached down for a lightsaber that wasn't there.

Anet cautiously turned the corner, hoping to spy whatever or (hopefully not) whoever it was. Yet lately, paranoia had the better of her. A spy? An assassin? Her nosy, pedantic aide?!

 

[Ra'Shayne Vorr]

LAHONA | MIND PRISON
TAG: Madrona A’Mia Delvin jeth
​

This place was so seeped in darkness that Ra'Shayne could scent it from orbit and the feeling only intensified as she entered. Her eyes glowed from the glitterstim but her mind was razor sharp. She knew how she was getting in, the Ratakan's for their formidable reputation were only strong because they were first. And first is obsolete.

She walked along behind a uniformed guard who led her in like an old friend. His mind was shattered and rivers of her force flowed through ever part of his mind. He was her slave and he would do exactly what she wanted. This included leading her straight into the mind prison along routes that he knew would be unguarded at those specific moments due to moving patrols. At this time they were one mind, they even smelled the same after she had sprayed him with a little something to encourage his mind to open to hers.

She walked into the prison next to her escort and felt the alarm in her slave at the other unexpected intruder. The alarm went nowhere though and was immediately quelled by Darth Equinox as she looked over at the strange arboreal form across the room. It didn't move her that there was another Sith here, what moved her was there was another Sith here first.

"Have you picked your poison yet?" she asked Madrona A’Mia as her slave went about the business of accessing the logs for her. Ra'Shayne was curious what each of them was imprisoned for perhaps to gain an advantage, or perhaps to predict the most fun mind prison to enter. From the dead look in the eyes of the guard it should likely be obvious to Madrona that he was under the influence of Qâzoi Kyantuska, and as such, not someone she should immediately murder. Unless that was her mood.

"One each, or do we go in together?" she asked with curiosity.

 

[Vector Monk]

Lysander von Ascania Seris Velmora

"Remarkable!"

Vector Monk, galaxy renowned archaeologist and infamous Jedi killer, paused in front of an ancient rakatan statue to mop the perspiration from his brow with a monogrammed shimmersilk handkerchief. Rakata Prime's humid jungle climate extracted a heavy toll on the ancient Sith historian's fair complexion. If he could endure tomb excavations deep in the frigid deserts of Korriban then there were no lengths Monk would not go in the pursuit of forbidden knowledge.

"My lord von Ascania," he knelt before the pair of Sith, "I believe this extraordinary example of pre-Dynasty sculpture means we are on the right track. There are bound to be more elaborate rakatan ruins close at hand!"

When Monk placed the pith helmet back on his bald pate, he bore a striking resemblance to some kind of ridiculous Core Worlds big game hunter. Tan safari clothes that were darkened by more pits of sweat. Unusual jewelry on one hand seemed anachronistic for such an expedition and the protective talisman around his neck hummed with dormant power even as it turned the veins black where it touched his bare skin like some kind of poison or infection.

He was enthusiastic for a Sith cultist. Evidently earning some favor beyond the Blackwall, Monk boasted a recommendation from Darth Carnifex himself. Eager to ingratiate himself with Lysander that much was obvious but careful not to offend the acolyte who accompanied him. Shrewd instincts kept Vector alive when so many others suffered ignoble fates serving dark masters. Most essential was protecting his reputation for always delivering results.

 

[Mellia Raine]

BELAZURA
Anet Raine​

Not a spy, not an investigator from the Republic, not a Jedi Shadow here to root her out and expose her villainy or a rival sith here to eliminate her before she grew too powerful. No, what faced Anet here today, what strolled onto the bridge of the Starwind Epiphany without a care in the Galaxy, was something much worse.

Family.

"You know,"

Mellia Raine cut something of an imposing figure - tall, lean, with eyes that burned like sulfur and skin the color of the long dead - and she had the air about her of someone who simply understood that she was better than you, specifically.

"That the security on this thing is terrible, right, sister?" The wayward Raine sister smiled oh-so-sweetly, though the expression didn't reach her eyes until she'd strolled past Anet and sat herself down in the captain's chair, legs crossed and lounging like she was in a nightclub and not trespassing upon a senator's property. There, she allowed a bit of genuine mirth to bleed through.

"Congratulations on the appointment; I'm sure you're embezzling with the best of them."

Was that a hint of genuine affection? Maybe, or maybe there was a fume leak somewhere aboard.

 

[Krasskorr the Maw]

FOOD: Open....

​

Kraskorr occupied the shadowy, red-lit confines of the Imperial Stealth Shuttle, his imposing figure wedged between the bulkhead and the cargo ramp. He traced a clawed finger over the jagged, silver-white scar that split his snout, a lasting testament to Mercy's blow and the destruction of the Imperial Palace that had occurred months earlier.

Having confronted the Sith Empress and emerged alive, a surge of confidence began to rise within him. Despite this newfound bravado, he had been compelled to retreat into the vastness of the Outer Rim, nursing a broken jaw and a bruised ego after failing to protect the Emperor's territory from invaders.

The galaxy had moved on without him, and for the Saruton, that was perfectly acceptable as the Jewel of Tion revealed itself.

"Descent in thirty seconds," the pilot's voice crackled.

Krasskorr stood, the weight of his armor creaking under the strain. Gone was the gleaming ceremonial plate of the Dark Side Elite; now it was a dull black, scarred by acid and blaster fire, devoid of any markings that might reveal his allegiance. He grasped the hilt of his Lightclub, securely fastened to his belt, its familiar heft grounding him in a universe that felt increasingly unstable.

As the shuttle's repulsors buzzed to life, it descended onto the ancient landing platform.

Through the viewport, the imposing structure of Xim the Despot rose, a relic of twisted geometry and paranoid architecture. After centuries of dormancy, its awakening sent a tremor through the Force, a sensation that Krasskorr could almost taste, sharp and metallic like blood in the air.

"The archives," Krasskorr hissed, his voice still raspy from the injuries of Coruscant. "The GenoHaradan secrets will belong to the true Galactic Emperor." The ramp hissed open, revealing the stagnant air of the former Capital, thick with the scent of incense and ozone.

Krasskorr emerged, his split tongue darting out to detect the presence of defenses. Instead of human scents, he was met with the cold, sterile aroma of war droids and the sharp, metallic essence of ancient Force-sensitive assassins, sentinels who had survived the fall of their master's empire, yet continued to embody his lingering paranoia.

 

[Meliant]

​

In some remote wild sector of Chandaar, Meliant and a randomly assembled subgroup of his retinue trekked aimlessly until they arrived at a peculiar, rocky outcropping - covered thickly with vines and trees and all the other usual jungle shit. Richly colored birds roosted within, squawking and fucking as jungle creatures were so often wont to do. ​

​

This was not what brought him here, of course.​

​

Meliant held up a hand, then gestured for someone to hand him his sword - which a cloaked retainer did. He drew the long and awful blade out of its scabbard and tossed the sheathe away, holding it aloft so that the sun could catch it. It glimmered beautifully in the sunlight, as if it were a work of art and not a hideous weapon of war. The view mystified and innerved his procession of rubes anyway. Meliant was very pleased with himself for having snatched this piece from the vaults below his palace. Sorry - the academy.​

​

Without warning he slashed at the air, downward, and a terrible unseen force tore the earth in two: trees, then undergrowth, then soil, then rock, and finally the durasteel shell at the base all split with a terrible crash. A strong gust of wind ripped through the valley from the power of the motion, ruffling cloaks and throwing small debris every which-way. All the richly colored birds either fled or fell to the ruptured earth in lifeless chunks.​

​

But if all their guts were exposed, so too were the guts of the GenoHaradan's secret vault. At the bottom of this new crevasse, a metal tunnel with flickering consoles and guide lights was now exposed. Or at least it would be when most of the dust settled. ​

​

"Hurray," said Meliant. "Now all of you go home, and tell everyone how great I am at this."​

​

His retainers looked uncertainly at one another, but when Meliant spoke no further they began a general exodus back to the waiting cruiser, muttering to themselves. ​

​

Meliant pointed the tip of his sword at Eurydice. "Except you. Come here."​

​

He had the conversational tone of a vaguely impatient person - which was to say he was as in good a mood as he was capable of getting. When the luckless neophyte joined him, he indicated the bottom of the crevasse with the point of his sword.​

​

"It's a four-way. Just my luck." If Eurydice peered closely she would see that was indeed the case. Meliant now had his sword-point stuck carelessly in the dirt, with his hands resting on the hilt. "You're a seer, aren't you? Which way do I go?"​

​

Eurydice ​

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Vector Monk Seris Velmora​

The jungle's heat was an unwelcome embrace, humidity that would have left lesser beings wilted and complaining. Weakness displayed was weakness multiplied. His father's words. It was noticed, of course. How could he not? But he refused to grant it power by acknowledging any discomfort.

When the figure sank to a single knee before him, Lysander's shadow spilled over the man like ink across parchment. Something ancestral whispered in the young Sith. Not quite memory, but the ghost of one, of being deferred to. Servants bowing their heads. That familiarity brought no pride per se but the primitive display affected him all the same. Power, especially when offered freely, was its own kind of intoxicant.

A loose tunic, damp with perspiration, clung to his lithe frame as he studied the weathered sculpture. "Vector," rolled the name slowly, dry at the edges, "if you prostrate yourself before every statue, we'll never reach the ruins before nightfall." The corner of his mouth quirked upward. He wasn't truly concerned about pace; time was abundant. But the performance felt better suited to a throne room.

Lysander extended his palm up, fingers beckoning toward the foliage rather than offering aid. "What else can you tell me of this place? Any significance beyond what the archives mention." Sometimes, it was better to hear perspective from a sentient being than to scroll through one's datapad.

What mattered most was this.. a devotee of the Order, and a Kainite, walking the same path today, each a different flame of the same sacred fire. Here, beyond Coruscant's political theater, they might continue forging something extraordinary.

He glanced sideways at Seris. "And you? What does your intuition tell you that our scholarly friend might miss?"

 

[Blade Ice]

Theme: Unforgiven
Tags: OPEN

---

Combat boots thudded lightly against the stone floor of the old ruins. Had he been here before? The thought crossed his mind, but he couldn't remember for sure, after awhile of being just about everywhere in the Galaxy it was hard to discern one ruin from another. Maybe he had but nothing came to mind in that moment that triggered a distinct memory. That and nothing in this place seemed to be distinctive enough to tell ancient sith ruins apart from these jedi ones.

The writings on the wall and various objects that weren't worth looting were the only thing that gave it away as truly Jedi. That and that funny feeling like you were being watched and judged as you moved forth into the complex. Yet the old Darth in his old, battered duster coat that was a patch work of leather scraps moved forward.

The Rebel Sith looked more like homeless vagabond then a Dark Lord of the sith. From his long duster that had seen so many battles not a single stitch of it was of the original coat it had once been, his floral print button up shirt under his jacket, and his unkempt look. Other then the confidence and fearlessness he walked with no one would see this man as much.

Not even the acolytes and other covenant children that had come here paid him much of a second glance. Probably just thought him some crazy that wandered in from the Jedha wilderness. In truth he was here to keep an eye on them, a chaperone meant to keep the younglings mostly from falling to the ghosts that haunted this place.

As he continued on listening and watching over the others from a distance he came to a stop. From he reached into his jacket and pulled out a pack of death sticks. With the flick of his wrist a single stick floated to the top and he placed it between his lips. Yet before he could return the pack back into, he folds of the Jacket and retrieve his matches. He heard a voice speaking up behind him.

"Those are bad for your health."

He knew the voice instinctively. The voice of a man he had hated for a good part of his life, granted he hated a lot of people over the years. Yet this one had held it the longest. He returned the pack from the jacket and pulled out a book of matches. He flipped it open and struck the match as he seemingly ignored the ghost behind.

"Just like you, never listening to good advice when its given. How many wars did you start just because you couldn't shut your mouth?"

Blade just lit the death stick and took a few quick puffs.

"How many of your teachers, could you have avoided making enemies of if you had only been obedient and listened?"

Blade's orange eyes looked off at a nearby wall with some writing on it like he was trying to decipher it as he took another drag of his death stick.

"That need to fight and argue in you has always been your biggest fault. Your need to rebel against every authority you ever met, is what got most of your family killed!"

The Ghost was trying to goad him and he knew it. As he took another drag, he turned to see that familiar face. "Hmm." He let out a little sigh as he looked at the man that was about inch or to shorter than him.

"You could have saved them, but you chose to fight a war. So, you lost them."

Blade glared at the ghost, just wanting it to go away. He knew it wouldn't, that it would continue to poke at him. That is what this place did it wanted you to confront those horrible truths. It wanted you to dwell on your wickedness and sin. It wanted you to break and repent but for the first face it should him there was no regret, because the man before him may have been a jedi but that was not how his life started. Blade pulled the death stick from his lips holding it between the middle and index finger of his left hand.

"I was hoping it would be Vega for the first mind trick, not you brother. At least for as big of an arse as he was…" He realized then he wasn't even sure if Vega was dead but it didn't really matter. "I sometimes enjoyed his company." Blade smirked slightly.

"You were always a worm little brother. Self-righteous to a fault, you dying as a jedi was enviable, Sethrom. We both know it was you who killed the only thing I loved in this world, that you slit her throat. Then you took my daughter and sold her to the very people I was fighting, as a peace offering. That you twisted our older brother Abel's mind to attempt to slay me. Even if in the end you found the light and repented, you are just as responsible for everything I did and will do, as me."

He lifted the death stick back up to lips as glared at the ghost of his little brother. Then took a puff and blew the smoke in the direction of the ghost.

"Try harder next time, show me someone who didn't start me on this path."

With that Blade turned and walked away leaving the ghost to vanish.