Populate The Second Conclave | TSC Populate of Empty Hex

[Naniti]

The violet Togruta at Lysander's side had an even stride with a pace befitting the importance of current events, but not too hastily for anyone to think they were at a beck and call. Couldn't have just any random Knight or Lord thinking you were a pushover. Her blue eyes slid toward him as he remarked on what was to come in the wake of what had transpired.

"The Core is expansive and will take considerable effort if we intend to hold it. The natural impulse for those hungry for battle will be to press on. Attack the Mandalorians. The Republic. The Sith Order. Demonstrate dominance. The Covenant doesn't have a decade of build-up behind it. We need time to build an army just to hold what we have, or we'll lose it faster than we gain anything else." Unless that was what those in charge wanted, of course. Just an endless battle with no regard for holding anything. No real purpose other than wanton destruction.

Naniti wasn't opposed to wanton destruction, but only when you had ground to stand on. She doubted the Covenant had actually expected to destabilize the Empire enough to move in on their territory. It had been a way to show the galaxy they were there, test their forces, and stir up recruits. They'd done that and then some. Problem was just how exposed they were now.

Even a Sith Lord can be laid low by sufficient numbers.

Her painted brow dipped at Lysander's oath before she turned her attention forward. Apparently someone had taken up position at the door. They weren't actually trying to bar-- Her eyes widened as Lysander started to work off to the side. Despite the surprise skill, Naniti stepped quickly up to join Lysander. Wall-walking was something they'd have to discuss later. Like, when he'd learned it and how. A useful skill.

At Lysander's direction, the Togruta strode around the room until the duo drew near where Mercy sat. Naniti didn't thank Lysander for pulling out the chair for her first. Best not to draw too much attention to it in present company.

As Naniti settled into the chair, her eyes were a brighter blue than before. She scanned those seated at the table slowly as people gathered. A gaze that swung aside toward Mercy before it anticipated her destination. A slow bat of her eyes followed. "Lysander," she whispered with a slight jerk of her chin in Mercy's direction. He was probably already aware of the woman's movements, but it was important that he was. Not for what she was doing in that precise moment, but what followed.

Best not to speak it into being either. A den of powerful people like this could get ideas.

Lysander von Ascania
Mercy | Arris Windrun | Vestra Tane | Srina Talon | Meliant | Eurydice | Tamsin Starfall

 

[Acier Moonbound]

Location: Coruscant

Equipment:
Acolyte Robes | Lightsaber | Cybernetic Arm

Like a wolf on the hunt, padding through ash with every sense tuned forward. The moment before the strike wasn't the charge. It was the scent. The instant something unfamiliar cut through the stale air and told the pack this wasn't just debris or old blood.

He'd caught it now. Not Imperial fear: sharp, frantic, loud in the Force. Not Covenant either, those signatures were cluttered, overworked, layered with ego and borrowed conviction.

This was… different. Unclaimed. Ace let his senses breathe outward a fraction more, tasting rather than prying. What he found didn't resolve into the clean geometries of training or creed. No meditative lattice. No ritual scars. No ideological spine holding it upright. The presence was raw in places, uneven - there was strength there, undeniably, but wielded like a tool pulled from a coat pocket rather than a weapon honed for war.

Unrefined. Self-shaped. Used, not worshipped. It reminded him of scavengers who knew how to fire a blaster but didn't bother learning why it worked. A means to an end.

His dark gaze sharpened as he finally saw her properly: tall, pressed back against the wall, posture tight but not broken. And then her eyes caught the light. Yellow.

For half a second, memory snapped. The taste of smoke and rage. His own reflection in the fractured wall panel during the assault, eyes burning with all of his hate and anger.

Ace shut it down immediately. Clamped the thought flat and buried it where it couldn't get leverage. Whatever that had been, it wasn't this. She wasn't him. She wasn't Covenant.

The hum of his lightsaber filled the corridor as he shifted his grip, blade angled low but ready.

"You don't feel trained." He said at last, voice even, almost conversational. "But you're not clueless either."

He took another slow step. Like a predator closing distance once it knew the prey wasn't armed the way it expected.

"Jedi carry themselves like they're accountable to ghosts." Ace continued. "Sith carry the weight of rules they pretend they're above."

His eyes didn't leave hers.

"Don't smell any of that on you."

The anger pressed forward again, testing its leash. He didn't let it loose, but he didn't push it back down either. He stopped just short of striking range, blade remaining active. The choice still unmade.

"So..." He finished, tilting his head a fraction. "You lost?… or did you just pick the wrong trail to hide on?"

The Dark side coiled tighter around him. Still waiting for an excuse.

Arixa Pazela​

 

[Mercy]

Arris Windrun | Srina Talon | Lysander von Ascania | Naniti | Vestra Tane | Meliant | Eurydice | Tamsin Starfall | Darth Amaymon
​

Mercy saw the large red giant approach and was about to compliment him. She had heard the tale of him smashing through line after line of Imperial fortifications to reach the ISB headquarters. Who knew how long it would have taken the acolytes to get into the building without him breaking those siege lines?

And then he decided to insult her guest and question her presence in the room.

Head tilted there and watched Amaymon, then she reached out and lazily squeezed Srina's shoulder. She didn't think the Empress would react violently, but neither did she need the headache of being proven wrong and turning this whole room into a battlefield right after poor Meliant worked so hard to get all the dents out.

"Everyone is just trying to get a reaction out of me today, give me a moment."

If only she knew how prophetic those words would be so fast.

"Not so fast Vestra. So, whose idea was it to invite this," A large accusing finger wagged in the direction of @Srina Talon ." Soverign imperial hag?"

"The same one who invited you." Her chin lightly leaning on the palm of her hand, looking at the squatting giant for a moment.

Before Mercy glanced over to the other Lords and Knights in attendance.

"The Covenant was forged under a simple truth: Power is all that matters."

Her eyes slowly flitting back to the Red Giant.

"Meaning- I do whatever the fuck I want and I will invite whoever I want. Yesterday, today, tomorrow. There is no one who will tell me otherwise." Then her hand flicked to Vestra. "Go on, Tane. I know you are looking forward to perusing the transcription later."

 

[Eurydice]

OBJ 2 | Varin Mortifer
​

"I-I-I-I'm sorry, I-"

Eurydice clutched the brick to her chest as if it were a shield. The way that this supervisor scolded at her was reminiscent of Father Erasmus' rasping criticism.

A long, sweeping shadow loomed over the security personnel. The singular piercing, molten eye had the brick slipping from her quivering grasp. It clattered to the floor, narrowly avoiding her toes. Oh, this was it - one of the greater Sith had sensed her weakness. Unsated from the battle, they would exercise their Bogan-given right to crush her into…

A familiar voice addressed her. Eurydice's cowering paused, confusion taking its place.

Then, just slightly, a note of tension eased from her shoulders.

"…Varin?"

He'd sent the security lackiesl scattering. Eurydice swallowed, and finally found a version of her voice that didn't squeak over every syllable. "Th-they thought I was one of the slaves. I tried to correct them but they didn't listen…"

She didn't blame them, not really. She should've been stronger. More assertive, like a real Sith.

"I was trying to find the old Jedi archives. I don't know if the Empire did away with them, or…"

Eurydice looked much the same as she had on Ilum. Varin, however…

"…What happened to your eye?"

 

[Arris Windrun]

Mercy Srina Talon Tamsin Starfall Meliant Lysander von Ascania Naniti Darth Amaymon Riffraff Ranat

Arris wanted to roll her eyes. Mercy would delegate responsibilities left and right to her and Vestra. So, of course, she would declare the opposite. Then, the Titan confirmed their secret guest was the Sith Empress - she should have expected that... and sure enough, the woman herself had arrived. What Arris didn't quite get was what afforded Mercy such gracelessness with her, or why she would arrive at Mercy's request.

The cyborg eyed both women with a measure of cynicism. Just in time for Vestra to show up in the wrong damn mood for Arris to deal with. She almost wished the Chandrilan would be inappropriately cheery at this one. Almost. Lifeless cybernetic eyes drifted down to Vestra's droid companion.

"Right. We ready to get this thing going?"

Her gaze flicked over the room. Lysander was here with Naniti... Mercy to her right, then the Empress, and Vestra on the other side. Kaila's former apprentice, whom she hadn't seen in a while. Then, there was the Dark Side Elite traitor playing doorman for some reason - Arris suspected that might have been a sick joke from Mercy.

"Well, I--"

"Not so fast Vestra. So, whose idea was it to invite this," A large accusing finger wagged in the direction of Srina Talon." Soverign imperial hag?"

In came the hulking monster she recalled from Desevro some time ago, and it seemed immediately he intended to cause a fuss. So was this to be the First Conclave all over again?

Mercy stepped in quickly and challenged his tone. Arris straightened her back and glanced between Star-Arm and Amaymon. Her glare settled on the latter.

"Are we here to bicker, or can we get to the fucking point? Also - can our latest addition join the room, or is he on door duty the whole night?"

Her voice picked up so Meliant might hear.

 

[Srina Talon]

OBJECTIVE: 1
LOCATION: Front of Chamber
APPEARANCE: XoXo [The Sovereign Imperial Hag™]
Direct Tag: Mercy | Tamsin Starfall | Meliant | Lysander von Ascania | Naniti | Darth Amaymon | Riffraff Ranat

____________________________________________________

She resisted.

Not violently or in any way that might suggest she was angry, but she did pull back for all the good that did. Unless she wanted to hurt Mercy there was no stopping her once her hand closed around her wrist, unless she wanted to break her own arm. It was against every instinct she had not to anchor herself to the chair she had chosen, and the intrusion caused a soft frown to pull across primrose lips.

Srina had been content to be what she thought was "invisible" among Sith that had no reason to acknowledge her. She was a weapon to their arsenal for the annexation of Coruscant and every pitiful world that lay within that border. She was a weapon to neutralize, kill, and bury the Faithless. Her attempt to blend in had not been accidental. From the back of the room, she could listen, observe, and note who held their ground and who flinched…

"Mercy…", she murmured, a note of warning, but it didn't matter.

The Lord of War was already merrily pulling.

Srina rose a fraction too late, and her chair scraped rather loudly, enough to catch unwanted glances. The Echani did not stumble, but the movement cost her the last precious illusion of being no one. She sighed softly while gold-hewn orbs flickered to the front of the chamber. Taking in the others, wondering if the floor would be kind enough to open so that she could pop inside and avoid a scene. She glanced back toward Mercy, who seemed oblivious, and a ghost of a smile touched the kiss of her mouth. Barely there.

Only Mercy could have gotten away with this. Why?

Srina had no idea.

Vestra Tane greeted her easily enough and the silvery woman let her head incline in the same way that it had when she passed Meliant in the doorway. She didn't say anything because it seemed clear that they had business to tend to, though, it seemed that red-skinned ogre had something to say to about her. Not to her. Mercurial eyes of metallic-gold swept over Darth Amaymon with a dry, almost academic, curiosity.

She didn't bristle, bare her teeth, or rise to what equated to…Exceedingly low hanging fruit.

Mercy had let go of her wrist long enough to squeeze her shoulder and the pale Empress allowed it. Was she worried that the Echani would explode and bring this Conclave to an end before it ever began? Was she supposed to be undone by the crude words of a creature that…She didn't even know? Had never heard of? A soft sigh escaped her.

Then she chuckled.

Soft, brief, and unbothered. Her court on Jutrand would have never believed it and even Mercy might be struck by the sound. It didn't happen often….But this was an enlightening experience. It really was the same everywhere. It always had been. Different thrones, different nations, but there was always a cadre of small-minded men who thought audacity was the play. They took their shots because she was a woman, because, she tended to outlast and surpass them.

Which…Was partially because she wasn't an insecure sad sack that crumbled beneath every luke-warm insult.

He was right in one regard. She was far, far too old for that.

Her eyes tore away from the squatting lump of adipose tissue and she reached up to brush two fingers against Mercy's wrist. It was grounding rather than restraining, a soft gesture, that would lead the red-haired woman back to the throne she had vacated. Arris Windrun and Vestra Tane already had their hands full…She would do her best not to add to their woes. At least not today. Srina settled neatly into the smaller seat to the right of Mercy, unhurried, with white fabric whispering against black stone.

"He is charming…Don't you think?"

Her words had a conspiratorial element, that of a staged whisper, but they weren't exactly hidden. She caught sight of Lysander von Ascania and was curious how things had turned out with Meliant and the "doorman's" confidential foot slip but that would have to wait. Her hands folded neatly in her lap while her form began to still, warmth fleeing her, body turning to stone. Waiting. She had fought with the Covenant, for them, when she could have remained on her laurels…But she didn't expect it to hold much weight as memory could be a fickle thing. That was before, past tense—This was now.

Her only regret was that she'd been blending in so well up until the point…

Or at least, she thought so.

 

[Varin Mortifer]

OBJ:2​

His gaze found hers while she stammered. Obviously she was frightened and confused. He slowly stood up over her again.

“I will personally correct them.”

The security personnel who initiated the fiasco gave Varin a very nervous glance, sweat beading from his forehead. Varin slowly looked over to the commanding officer, his eye flaring a piercing bloody orange.

At her mention of Jedi archives Varin looked back at her with a slight smirk.

“I wouldn't know where those are, but more than likely they are now property of The Covenant, if they are still here and have not been purged.”

The officer slowly started to back away but Varin flicked a finger towards him, locking his body in place. His gaze slowly fell back to him.

“We aren't finished officer.”

His throat started to tighten as Varin's fingers slowly started to flex. Slowly he would draw the air from his lungs. But Eurydice's next question made him stop entirely, dropping the officer to the floor as he coughed and wheezed.

“Pay better attention next time, officer. Someone else is certainly due for a promotion, should your position become…available.”

The officer quickly lowered his eyes to Varin, giving him a slight bow before he quickly walked off, rubbing his throat.

Varin slowly looked back at Eurydice, his fingers slowly running over the scars around his eye socket.

“I…had made a mistake. And it cost me dearly.”

He spoke quietly to her.

“And my healing does not replace missing parts.”

He slowly lowered his hand.

“I can help you look for those archives if you wish, but I would not get my hopes up in finding them.”

Eurydice​

 

[Meliant]

Mercy Vestra Tane Arris Windrun Lysander von Ascania Naniti Tamsin Starfall Darth Amaymon Riffraff Ranat Srina Talon​

Meliant had other guests to attend to whilst Lysander peeled himself from the pavement.​

​

The chamber was already filling up, and her head inclined gently to Meliant , who seemed a little bit overqualified to serve as a mere "doorman".

Meliant's primary habit was to be waspish and mean to his lessers and equals, then curiously silent when anyone of higher stature came by. No surprise, then, that he had nothing to say to the Empress from beyond the Blackwall.​

"Darth Lunaris, good sir." She bowed her head slightly. "Hope you don't mind I took care of that speeder that was double parked over there. It may be a warzone but it doesn't mean you can't have a little respect for traffic laws. Hope to see you inside it is a great new day."

Lunaris flung the rat-person's parked speeder before Meliant could decide what exactly his "taking care of it" would entail. Well. He who hesitates is lost, as the saying goes, so he decided not to impugn the action. "Charmed," was all he said. ​

Momentarily Amaymon considered saying something to the being but all that sounded out was a " Hmph." Something more akin to air expelled than words.

A big red brute came next and sized him up. He did not seem altogether impressed. That incensed him, obviously, but when weighed against the fact that the brute was just shy of two-and-a-half meters tall, Meliant decided to let it go. Literal higher stature in this case.​

"Are we here to bicker, or can we get to the fucking point? Also - can our latest addition join the room, or is he on door duty the whole night?"

Her voice picked up so Meliant might hear.

A scraping sound came from one of the adjoining rooms almost as soon as Arris complained. Metal scraping stone - deeply unpleasant. Something heavy was being dragged across the floor. Closer and closer it inched, until what passed into full view of the assembly were two haggard looking shock troopers conveying the blasted, broken throne of the former Darth Solipsis.​

​

Yes, the very same one he had verbally claimed during the invasion. It seemed Meliant intended to make full use of it. His minions dutifully brought it to the table and departed with the chair originally intended for Meliant. They merely lifted that one and carried it out silently, which made their decision to drag the throne questionable. Almost like...​

​

Meliant swept into the room a moment later with a mean stride, red cape flowing behind him, and dropped himself onto the throne. He relaxed into it so fully he looked like he might melt. Body language conveyed smug delight - like a lizard basking under a heat lamp - where his stony mask could not.​

​

"Here I am."​

​

 

[Milla]

Primarily Riffraff Ranat Adean Castor
Also in the room: Mercy Vestra Tane Arris Windrun Lysander von Ascania Naniti Tamsin Starfall Darth Amaymon Srina Talon Meliant

Milla had absolutely no idea what was going on. Either the larger scale of events or the more specific features. In her past life that had been a bit of a blessing, largely working out in her favor on the rare occasion it mattered. Now? Time would tell. She had a bit of an unerring nose for trouble, which was enough to lead her into the background of plots she wasn't at all a part of, and had no intention of being a part of.

It was with that in mind that she had spent the last few minutes watching the main door after traveling though the war torn landscape, and waiting for an opportunity to slink inside. A dozen other people had already bounced, flounced, floated, stalked, or stomped past the armored sentinel, though she'd missed the earliest arrivals, one of which she recognize soon enough. There was one particular being however that she'd been most interested in, one that had caught her attention, the magpie eye of someone always on the hunt for something that she couldn't truly help. A hardwired intent in her gaze and her steps that meant she needed to know just what, precisely, that little thing with the purple fur had been...

But first, the golden figure. Creature or automaton? Nearly as interesting to Milla, assuming anyway that it was the former and not the later. Milla didn't understand the appeal, or really the point, of droids. He seemed to be monitoring the door and that always gave her pause, waiting for an opening, a moment of distraction. At first it seemed however that he really COULDN'T be distracted. Sure people were just waltzing by them, but the ever paranoid Milla didn't get the impression at any point that they went by unseen. Could she just walk right in? Probably. Would she be perceived doing it? Likely, and wholly unacceptable.

Patience is a virtue however, and while it was not one she possessed in spades, apparently she had enough rattling around in her little beggars cup of a brain that the walking suit of armor left the door. Unattended! Unminded!

And there she slunk into the great room where the gathering (meeting? Milla was unclear and uncaring) was taking place. The fact that she could have just walked in, waved to Mercy, and taken her own seat was rather not the point. Even if she'd known that to be the case, she wouldn't have done anything of the sort. Anemic eyes cast over the gathering as she kept to the outer edges. So many interesting sentients, most of which she was unfamiliar with, muttering to herself under her breath about fascinating phenotypes as her eyes darted around for - ah there.

The purple furred creature.

Trying to look nonchalant, and failing, she started moving around the back of everything towards it.

She had completely forgotten she'd left the door open behind her.

 

[Darth Amaymon]

Tags: Srina Talon Mercy Arris Windrun Vestra Tane Lysander von Ascania Riffraff Ranat Naniti Tamsin Starfall @Mill
​

On a person level the Lord of Hatred had nothing against the Empress. In truth he did not know her, He knew of her through hearsay, his own history with the Sith Order and her husband Empyrean. It did not surprise Amaymon to see the womans reaction to his comment or lack thereof. A prudent reaction. Similar infact to how Empyrean would deal with the situation.

Though Kezeroth did enjoy the occasional spite in the Emperors tone in sparse past dealings. The response from one of the Triumvirs, Mercy was another matter.

"The same one who invited you." Her chin lightly leaning on the palm of her hand, looking at the squatting giant for a moment.

Before Mercy glanced over to the other Lords and Knights in attendance.

"The Covenant was forged under a simple truth: Power is all that matters."

Her eyes slowly flitting back to the Red Giant.

"Meaning- I do whatever the fuck I want and I will invite whoever I want. Yesterday, today, tomorrow. There is no one who will tell me otherwise." Then her hand flicked to Vestra. "Go on, Tane. I know you are looking forward to perusing the transcription later."

Amaymons sulfuric eyes widened, shifting to the monstrous woman. Where once his brow burrowed, it now lifted revealing a sudden interest in what was said. " Power is all that matters." He mouthed the words. Tasting them before he opened his mouth to say another word but felt cut off. Something that instinctually flared brief hostility or at least in his posture.

"Are we here to bicker, or can we get to the fucking point? Also - can our latest addition join the room, or is he on door duty the whole night?"

A scraping sound came from one of the adjoining rooms almost as soon as Arris complained. Metal scraping stone - deeply unpleasant. Something heavy was being dragged across the floor. Closer and closer it inched, until what passed into full view of the assembly were two haggard looking shock troopers conveying the blasted, broken throne of the former Darth Solipsis.Yes, the very same one he had verbally claimed during the invasion. It seemed Meliant intended to make full use of it. His minions dutifully brought it to the table and departed with the chair originally intended for Meliant. They merely lifted that one and carried it out silently, which made their decision to drag the throne questionable. Almost like...Meliant swept into the room a moment later with a mean stride, red cape flowing behind him, and dropped himself onto the throne. He relaxed into it so fully he looked like he might melt. Body language conveyed smug delight - like a lizard basking under a heat lamp - where his stony mask could not."Here I am."

But after the rather obnoxious introduction had been mad and the addition of another comment by Arris, Amaymon, couldn't help but see the golden metal man and Lord in a new light. Even so he continued with his retort to as he began. " Power is all that matters." Chuckling at the rather entertaining exchange thus far. Amaymon was amused which was far better than if he was bored. This council, so far, could bite back and that was all he needed to know.

" Nothing tests power like proximity." He flicked his eyes back to Mercy and the Empress and then around the room. It was a loaded statement but one that was true enough given the standard that was being followed with the Sith Covenant, but most of all it was one Kezeroth could work with.

Finally landing on Meliant he nodded respectfully and blurted out. " Now that is a nice chair."

 

[Tamsin Starfall]

Theme: Pulse of Darkness
Equipment: Twin Omens | Multi-Tool | Stars Enchained | Mind Crown
TAGS: Vestra Tane | Mercy | Arris Windrun | Srina Talon | Meliant | Lysander von Ascania | Darth Amaymon | More

The black robed figure with the hood pulled over her face found her seat quietly. She for once wasn't the smallest figure in the room but still not a giant like so many others. A slight look of surprise crossed her face as she saw the Empress Srina Talon . She had met the woman once on Echnos though the demon had been in control in that moment. She had also seen her a few other times elsewhere in her days in the order.

Unlike the squatting red giant in armor, she did not offer insult instead just nodded her head towards the Empress. Srina had offered her and her sister nothing but kindness in there days in the Order. It was funny that her sister Darth Anathemous had known almost all of the people gathered here on some level and yet barely any of them knew her beyond being Kaila's apprentice.

In truth Tamsin didn't really know them either beyond being Kaila's friends or girlfriends. If her sister ever did come back from wherever the hell she ran off to, they would have words. She watched as various words were shared between those that had gathered here. The demon had slinked to the back of the mind for the moment, but it was at the ready to strike if need be.

It hated everyone here but not out of some sense of perceived malice towards the individual themselves. No, the demon just hated everyone and everything, seeing them as illusions that perpetuated the cycle of this broken reality. Machinations of the will that had long ago broken the universe. It did not see in Jedi, Sith, Empires, or Republics the demon only saw broken cogs in a broken machine that needed to be removed from existence. The Machine needed to be rebuilt from scratch, not continually band-aided just to keep it limping along.

Tamsin's eyes now dark the sulphuric orange dying out looked toward the doorman as he moved into the room. She watched as Meliant stepped up to the throne and took his seat like he belonged there. It was not her place to say the throne should be dismantled and broken, that there were no more Emperors in this sector of the Galaxy, but she wanted too.

Her eyes then went to Vestra Tane the only one in the triumvirate leadership she had actually ever been introduced to too. She seemed to be the one all the others were looking to, to start this meeting of the most broken people in the Galaxy that had ever been gathered since the first conclave. Hopefully this one wouldn't break out in a chest puffing contest and calls for Kaggath. Though Tamsin was thinking that the demon was practically salivating at the thought of all hell breaking loose and this all devolving into total annihilation. A meek mild voice finally spoke up from her chair as she once again panned her sights to those gathered.

"Power is only useful if you know how to use it, making knowledge more beneficial. So, are we going to trade insults all day? Or are we here to talk about the future?"

​

 

[Vestra Tane]

​

Tags: Mercy | Naniti | Lysander von Ascania | Darth Amaymon | Meliant | Arris Windrun | Milla | Srina Talon | Surely More that I have missed

"Not so fast Vestra. So, whose idea was it to invite this," A large accusing finger wagged in the direction of Srina Talon ." Soverign imperial hag?"

A small hiss of frustration escaped the Sith. She leaned in her seat, elbow pressed to her thigh, and pinched the bridge of her nose between two synthetic fingers. The Empress' presence would make no difference, unless someone here was stupid enough to plan a raid on the Order to her face.

"Meaning- I do whatever the fuck I want and I will invite whoever I want. Yesterday, today, tomorrow. There is no one who will tell me otherwise." Then her hand flicked to Vestra. "Go on, Tane. I know you are looking forward to perusing the transcription later."

No one yet.

"Are we here to bicker, or can we get to the fucking point? Also - can our latest addition join the room, or is he on door duty the whole night?"

A scraping sound came from one of the adjoining rooms almost as soon as Arris complained. Metal scraping stone - deeply unpleasant. Something heavy was being dragged across the floor. Closer and closer it inched, until what passed into full view of the assembly were two haggard looking shock troopers conveying the blasted, broken throne of the former Darth Solipsis.

Yes, the very same one he had verbally claimed during the invasion. It seemed Meliant intended to make full use of it. His minions dutifully brought it to the table and departed with the chair originally intended for Meliant. They merely lifted that one and carried it out silently, which made their decision to drag the throne questionable. Almost like...

Meliant swept into the room a moment later with a mean stride, red cape flowing behind him, and dropped himself onto the throne. He relaxed into it so fully he looked like he might melt. Body language conveyed smug delight - like a lizard basking under a heat lamp - where his stony mask could not.

"Here I am."

There was a certain level of petty, ego-stroking nonsense that was so egregious, so obnoxious that one couldn't help but find it charming. Meliant seemed to have gone a level beyond, because whatever enjoyment Vestra derived from his theatrics died on the vine upon the realization that she would need to treat this man as colleague and comrade.

Finally, once the bustle had died down slightly, and a few voices had begun to call for something like order, she rose from her seat, and placed her hands down on the table in front of her. Small arcs of ice-blue lightning flitted across her skin, a telltale sign of her frustration to anyone who knew her. Hints of her true accent bled through when next she spoke, another indicator.

"We've got a Core to carve up and a future to plan. So unless one of you wants to swing at the Star-Arm, or you're going to announce yourself Sith'ari, or some other stupid chit..." A guttural, unpleasant string of syllables escaped her, for just a few words: ur-Kittât, the language of the Sith.

"We begin. The Council is formed."

Some small fraction of tension melted from the Sith. Frustration still ruled the day, but her shoulders lowered ever-so-slightly, and the very beginnings of a smile started to creep up onto her face. Maybe Arris would get her almost-wish tonight, after all.

"Knights and Masters of the Covenant, we have butchered the Empire like an animal, and now we ask ourselves - what are we doing with the bones?"

 

[Kyber]

​

Tag: Mercy Naniti Lysander von Ascania Tamsin Starfall Darth Amaymon Meliant Arris Windrun Milla Srina Talon Vestra Tane Riffraff Ranat
Disguise:

Spoiler

Kyber had come to quite fond of his old man human alter ego Kybon, at first it was simply to hide his true nature from those less understanding and accepting of non organic lifeforms but it had since evolved into his formal look the same as one would wear a suit to important meetings and dinners. This fact was undermined by Kyber's lack of fashion sense. Despite using his Kybon disguise for formal gatherings he still gave it tattered robes and a hard worn face of a hermit.

To join the conclave not as a Sith Lord was a most dangerous risk Kyber would have to take if he were to try and take full advantage of the sudden change in galactic order. If his current endeavor fails to peak the interest of the sith that have arrived he was sure he would be punished but as long as one sith was smart enough to see the value in what he was going to offer everything would be fine.

Trailing behind Kyber was one of his more recent successful attempts of making evolutions of the Rakghoul, being successfully infected with not only the rakghoul plague but also nanogene spores. The beast was a combination of ghoul and machinery with most of its torso and half of its head having seemingly transformed into durasteel and other cybernetic parts protecting its vital organs while a crude wrist blaster piercing out from underneath its skin. Kyber guessed the ghoul had about a week left in its lifespan before the cybernetics or its organs failed, luckily this was just the show model and if he could get at least half of what he wanted then future ghouls would be more refined with a much more functional lifespan.

As Kyber entered the room he realised he had no actual idea who was who in the covenant. One person was sitting on some broken throne which confused Kyber as he didn't think the sith here followed any emperors. One face did stand out to Kyber and if he had stayed up to date on current events for the past 5 decades this shouldn't have surprised him. Srina Talon didn't look a day older than the last time he had saw her when he served the CIS of 851 ABY. Kyber doubted she would remember him and that might be for the best as last time he was involved with rakghouls she was quite the opposite of pleased. At least to Kyber's knowledge she would have never met his alter ego Kybon considering it was only created recently.

"Apologies for the interruption but This One could not help but hear that talks about the future were happening at this place." Kyber would preform an elaborate bow far to agile for a old man to normally preform without his break giving out.

"This One is Kybon and This One offers Those Ones the next step in uncaring and oh so cruel warfare." The Cybernetic Rakghoul would move up to stand next to Kyber.

​

 

[Kirie]

Location: Coruscant Sith Temple
Tag: Anet Raine | OPEN

'What is wrong with you!?' Kirie exclaimed, shrinking back and giving the poor girl Anet had hit some room to get away. That attack hadn’t made sense. The girl was some worker, a stranger to them both. Clearly, Anet was still as unreasonable as she had been during their mission. A vision of herself being tripped and tackled struck her uninvited, and she shuddered. Kirie pressed her back against the wall as Anet's gaze turned to her. Backed into a corner.

The girl jabbed a finger into her collar. Beneath the soft silk scarf, Anet's finger struck against a band of hard metal that gave a warning chirp and buzzed in response. Kirie's own eyes narrowed.

"You," her voice reduced to a whisper, "betrayed me."

'I betrayed… You?' Kirie stepped forward to meet Anet. 'If it weren't for you, I could have got away.' She grimaced, as if the idea physically pained her.

Kirie’s fists clenched, and she winced. She could feel the Force welling around her, so potent it made her feel drunk. Her anger curdled into disgust, and as the Darkness rose beneath her in an invisible tide, she couldn't help but think that Anet looked so very small.

She wanted to reach out with that awful power, and wrap it around Anet, but she didn't, yet.

'What do you want, Anet?'

 

[Mercy]

Arris Windrun | Srina Talon | Lysander von Ascania | Naniti | Vestra Tane | Meliant | Eurydice | Tamsin Starfall | Darth Amaymon | Kyber
​

Her fellow Triumvirs had pressed her on the importance of not taking over the whole meeting. That it was important for those who joined this Sith Council to feel part of the process, to have a stake in the future of the Covenant, and that they'd be cross with her if she made it the Mercy show. So watching Meliant's servants drag the old Emperor's chair into the room and hearing the high-pitched scratch was ironic to say the least.

She didn't believe she would have made a scene like that.

As if Mercy hadn't just stared down a fellow giant and told everyone to get bend if they didn't like her invitation choices. But that was sadly cost of entry to dealing with Mercy.

Irony was lost to her when it worked in her favor.

"This One is Kybon and This One offers Those Ones the next step in uncaring and oh so cruel warfare." The Cybernetic Rakghoul would move up to stand next to Kyber.

"They look positively charming, darling." Mercy murmured as she gestured towards one of the empty chairs. "Sit down, enjoy the ride, this Council is about to decide the future of the Core and the Covenant." Almost on cue, Vestra began the rites and initiated the gathering with a slathering of ur-Kittât.

A guttural, unpleasant string of syllables escaped her, for just a few words: ur-Kittât, the language of the Sith.

"We begin. The Council is formed."

Some small fraction of tension melted from the Sith. Frustration still ruled the day, but her shoulders lowered ever-so-slightly, and the very beginnings of a smile started to creep up onto her face. Maybe Arris would get her almost-wish tonight, after all.

"Knights and Masters of the Covenant, we have butchered the Empire like an animal, and now we ask ourselves - what are we doing with the bones?"

"Indeed..." Mercy watched the gathering with building hunger, those that were closest to her would see the signs. The mountain was getting eager, it was a wonder she hadn't declared another war already. "Chaos is our greatest advantage, my fellow Lords, my Knights. Whatever proposals you have for us today, keep that in mind. Do not let yourself be drawn into the allure of order, of formalized authority, that is my main suggestion for now."

And then Mercy became quiet, allowing herself to listen, rather than immediately declare what her desire was.

Not an easy task for a creature like Mercy.

 

[Anet Raine]

Kirie

"You could have gotten away?" She didn't raise her voice. "And what - left me?"

Anet's fingernail scratched the metal surface wrapped around Kirie's neck. Her eyes glanced down for a second before darting back up. Her anger was tempered by something smug.

But before she could make a point of what she realized, the acolyte sensed Kirie's anger and the intention to hurt her.

"No!" Anet whispered. "Don't slink away from that feeling," she demanded.

Why was it so hard for Kirie to accept? How could their reactions on Coruscant have been so distant? Unrivaled power at their fingertips. All she needed to do was take it; take it as Anet had.

"What I want... What I want is for you to be by my side through this. We're Sith, Kirie! This is who we are meant to be. I saw that future in you when you told death to fuck off and brought me back here."

She could still sense that power in her gut, where Kirie's hands repaired the life-ending damage she received on their adventure in the Red Library. For Anet, that was everything she loved about Kirie. The way they tackled that problem together - it made her feel invincible. Chaos; she wanted it back. Neither of them would succeed in this alone. It wasn't their way of the Sith to be fighters and killers like the rest, but that didn't mean they were resigned to weakness and despair.

The scholar wanted to hook her finger around the control collar, but found it too tight against the woman's throat.

"What do we have here?" She asked as if the answer weren't obvious.

Anet leaned in a little closer to Kirie's ear. "I want us to be friends, Kirie. Do you want us to be friends?"

 

[Kirie]

Location: Coruscant Sith Temple
Tag: Anet Raine | OPEN

"What do we have here?"

Kirie's face contorted into a scowl that sat very unpleasantly on her fine, soft features. Pure, unadulterated loathing had turned her blood to ice.

Anet's fingers scrabbled at the metal around her neck and the sight of her smug expression incensed her. Raising her hand suddenly, she grabbed at Anet's wrist to pull her hand away and hold her in place.

"I want us to be friends, Kirie. Do you want us to be friends?"

Kirie seemed to falter for a moment, then her expression hardened again.

'You're not my friend. You're a delusional girl I know who has managed to ruin my pathetic excuse for a life.' Kirie tightened her grip, unnaturally strong, painful. Her heart was beating so hard in her chest it was painful.

The Force rose from all around her, seeping from the cold stones to hang over their heads like a wave waiting to crash down. With the idlest influence of her will, Kirie sent it curling around her like a smoke, wrapping around her body and settling in her chest, her gut, her hands. Kirie knew Anet could feel it too. She looked for the spark of fear in the half-Pantoran's eyes.

Kirie did not sign her next words, nor did they tumble from her lips, but they would ring in Anet's head as if she could hear them, in the voice Kirie herself had lost more than a year ago.

"Next time, Anet, you won't try to stop me."

What had been healed could be undone. She had read words to that effect a thousand times in her texts on Dark Healing. And yes, when she concentrated, she could see the lattice of cracks and points from when she had saved Anet in the Red Library, that mortal wound from when the Force spirit had sliced her open.

Physically, Kirie released Anet and stepped back, but with the Force she reached out to grasp her completely. Anet would pay for her betrayal, Kirie would teach her a lesson she wouldn't forget and she would never try to control her again. A red glow began to emanate from her hands as she shaped the energy around her, sparks crawling across her skin, tracing the patterns of ancient runes.

And Kirie began to unzip the months-old wound, attempting to reopen it in a crimson smile. At first, she only attempted to cause her pain, perhaps shed a little blood. But the Force, its currents so twisty and powerful in her grip, had other ideas. The moment she started picking at the invisible strings around Anet's wound it rushed through Kirie uncontrollably to unravel the injury completely.

No. Kirie thought wildly. This wasn't what I wanted. But that thought was very quiet compared to the rush running through her body. She was powerful, so incredibly powerful that Anet couldn't stop her if she tried. She had power over the girl's life, and why shouldn't she suffer for what she did? Kirie smiled with grim satisfaction, and allowed the Dark to pull her apart at the seams.

 

[Anet Raine]

Kirie

She offered a mocking expression when Kirie forced back Anet's hand, then settled back into a smug stare, with a little smirk curling at the corner of her mouth.

But when Kirie called her a delusional girl, Anet's brow folded down across icy eyes. The half-pantoran snapped her teeth and tsked.

She couldn't have imagined what would unfold. At first, she sensed the Force as it permeated around them like an ashen fog, and saw that it was Kirie's influence that called it. Yes - she was afraid, but there was also something else.

She felt butterflies.

"Next time, Anet, you won't try to stop me."

Her eyes went wide, and she gasped.

The Force - Kirie - took hold of her. When the brunette let her go, Anet stumbled back. She looked ready to fall backwards completely until something invisible pulled taut and stopped her. It was as if Kirie reached out to undo stitches, a single thread plucked between two vain fingers, and tugged. The runes formed, and all that healing... That grand achievement which saw Kirie upon the pedestal in Anet's heart; undone.

The pain was excruciating - like someone took a knife and started to dig around in there. Then, blood began to spill, but it wasn't fresh; it was old, dark, and tarry. From it erupted the echo of a scream. The latent rage of the dark side entity that Kirie had woven into Anet's injury to save her.

She fell forward. Knees were all that she had left to stand on, as if a courtier submissive to her tyrant. With frightened eyes, she looked up, mouth agape, failing to form words of any kind. But there was something else in the way she stared. It wasn't just fear; behind it, there was something more: a pathetic, unhealthy devotion.

Anet removed a left hand that kept her insides from spilling out any further, damning them to whatever fate Kirie had wrought, and instead grasped the lightsaber at her side. The one she bled in Kirie's defense, and ignited it. With a shaky grip, she turned the tip up and towards her healer... her executioner...

No. Anet's tongue would not flap. But from Kirie, she was reminded how to speak.

In the acolyte's mind, she repeated familiar words. "How... do you want to live?"

'You want to live, right? I am going to help you, but you need to tell me how you want to live.'

 

[Nilira Vornix]

Tag: Anet Raine Kirie

She watched. Within the darkness of the construction, Nilira watched the Traitor interact with the Scholar. Her presence had been utterly dulled, as if she was just a walking corpse. There were many emotions that should have been rushing through her mind. The way Kirie had betrayed Neriah's trust for yet another time. The way she had planned on leaving Neriah behind. The fact that Neriah's "death" was entirely on Kirie's shoulders. Yet she did not have a single care towards it. For Neriah was dead. To Nilira, the Traitor was nothing more than a stranger.

Even she could see the Darkness swirling around Kirie, like a cloak slowly wrapping itself around, getting tighter and tighter with every slight movement. Tightening around the Traitor like a thread slowly wrapping around a trapped rabbit. The more she played into it, the more she used its power, the tighter the snare would wrap around her. Would it devour her completely? Would it destroy her? Nilira did not care either way. Whatever happened, it would make for valuable education.

Only when the Scholar fell down to her knees, did Nilira step out from the darkness. Not to help. Not to mock. But to observe. To study. Most of the time, when she had killed someone herself, she had made it quick. Painless.Well...There had been that time on Nar Shaddaa with the warehouse fire, but that was Neriah. Not Nilira. Rarely did she let them bleed out. It would make for once again excellent educational material as she took out her datapad, as opposed to her journal, and tapped away, noting what she could.

Patient appears to have some kind of unhealthy interest in the Traitor. Is it because of the Dark Side? Is there some kind of alternative reasoning that I have yet to think of? She has allowed herself to bleed far more profusely, in exchange for her lightsaber. Curious.

​

 

[Arris Windrun]

Mercy Vestra Tane Lysander von Ascania Naniti Riffraff Ranat Adean Castor Milla Meliant Srina Talon Darth Amaymon Tamsin Starfall Kyber

Well, it seemed everyone was either present or lurking nearby. While some discussed the philosophy of 'power', Vestra Tane brought the Second Conclave to order. A much smaller, more intentional crowd to be sure, but no less chaotic it seemed.

"Knights and Masters of the Covenant, we have butchered the Empire like an animal, and now we ask ourselves - what are we doing with the bones?"

Arris had - perhaps surprisingly - come prepared this time around. The aftermath of their invasion had done nothing but keep the Triumvir busy, and the data they ransacked from ISB proved exceedingly helpful in establishing broad awareness and detailed information dumps on the happenings within the Deep Core.

"Apologies for the interruption but This One could not help but hear that talks about the future were happening at this place." Kyber would preform an elaborate bow far to agile for a old man to normally preform without his break giving out.

"This One is Kybon and This One offers Those Ones the next step in uncaring and oh so cruel warfare." The Cybernetic Rakghoul would move up to stand next to Kyber.

The cyborg raised a skeptical brow and panned to see Mercy's reaction. So he was added to the table? Okay then. Better for her to decide, honestly. Arris shrugged inside, but to the others, she merely delivered an audible sigh when Mercy deferred decision-making under the guise of wisdom.

Arris took that as her cue. "Well - let's begin with this." She tossed a small holoemitter onto the table. It flickered on, displaying various details regarding 'acquired' imperial assets.

"We have mothballed fleets - starships in retrofits. Entire staryards. A whole damn armada kinda just sitting there."

Then, the technopath waved her hand, changing the display to graphs and datastreams regarding ISB records on ex-Alliance officers.

"Some of us have already put together a plan. ISB kept an extensive record of former Alliance officers. Discharged, retired, imprisoned, deserters... What have you. Apparently, scouted for recruitment to replace the Imperial losses at Atrisia. I recommend picking up where the Empire left off and building ourselves a navy."

She looked at Mercy. "As much as your graspborn and our irregular type shit helped at Coruscant, I think we'll need something more serious, yeah?"

None of this was her strongsuit. Honestly? It felt weird to be in this position.