Dominion The Wretched Hive | Black Sun Syndicate Dominion of the Kastolar Sector

[Darth Carnifex]

Eyes shining like molten copper watched with a flicker of amusement as the unknown woman so effortlessly dispatched the guard, unloading one shotgun round into the unconscious man's back. Quite vicious, He had to admit, the faintest shadow of a smile curling at the corners of His lips as the man's blood began to slowly leak into the water. When the woman aimed her weapon at Him, His gaze never shifted or wavered in the slightest, but the distinct glower of danger now flashed across His features.

"You may refer to me as Daeva," rumbled the man's low, velvety voice. The rumbling purr of each syllable reverberated through her bones, each word carried by more than just sound. The word was ancient, carved from the annuls of galactic pre-history. It's origins had been long forgotten, but it's meaning had survived through the ages. From whatever civilization it arose, the daeva were disagreeable and contemptuous spirits of disorder.

He stood, movements precise and measured as the movement of tectonic plates. Water rushed over His bare form like a thousand waterfalls, sloshing back into the pool His body had previously displaced. Even standing in the pool, it was clear that He was over eight feet tall. Dark runic tattoos covered the front of His chest and the width of each arm, many of them evidently of Sith design.

"What do they call you, little hunter?"

CT-312 | Jacen Breska
Eira Dyn | Scherezade deWinter ​

 

[Scherezade deWinter]

Objective: Spa Day! Wait, we had a mission?
Tags: Eira Dyn | Jacen Breska | Darth Carnifex | CT-312 | Open for all
Loadout: Generic big floofy white towel. And fuzzy white slippers.

---

"All systems and security droids are under our command. The rest is free game. Try not to kill all the clients. Hostages are useful. Who knows, finish early and you guys can get back to… whatever you were doing."

"Please do not be alarmed. We are under new management now. Please enjoy your stay."

Sixteen hands. Sixteen hands came to an abrupt stop, causing Scherezade to let out the longest, most dramatic sigh in the galaxy. She sat up, some of the hands still hovering uncertainly mid-air, not sure if they were supposed to resume their work or leave. "Motherkrakkers," the Sithling said as she adjusted her towel.

She slid off the table in one fluid motion, and a single blade flew from her pile of clothes in the corner of the room into her left hand. Bare feet left oily prints on the polished floor as she marched out. The towel slipped loose before she even cleared the door, but she didn't bother with correcting the situation.. Let the droids… And… And… Chit, she should've paid more attention to the brief, and whoever they were fighting deal with one very naked, very angry Sithling.

Of course, there was already a squad of non-droid guards waiting only a few feet away. Heavily armored, weapons levelled, visors gleaming. Scherezade cocked her head, lips quirking in amusement. What could one simple woman with no towel and one knife possibly do in such a situation? Oh, life was so very, very hard. And the children! Think of the children!

She raised her right hand lazily, as if to wave them off. Then came her smile, sharp, cruel, and hungry. Her awareness slithered outward through the Force, brushing against the steady pulse of life inside their armoured shells. External armour might stop a bolt. It didn't stop her. Her will sank into their veins, stirring, grasping, twisting. A few of the men shifted uneasily as her emerald eyes glowed brighter, the air prickling with malevolent intent.

"That's your blood starting to warm up," she crooned, her sing-song voice carrying like a lullaby. "Turn around and run, or stay and cook in your shells. Your choice."

They didn't move.

Scherezade sighed again, almost theatrically, and clenched her outstretched hand. The shift was immediate. Their heartbeats staggered. Blood that once flowed obediently now churned like water over flame. Veins swelled against the confines of flesh and armor alike, heat spreading faster than their panicked minds could comprehend. The guards convulsed, weapons clattering to the floor, muffled cries building into ragged screams. Bubbles rose beneath the thin strips of exposed skin, crimson welts rupturing as boiling vitae sought escape.

It was not a clean death. For onlookers, it would last only moments. For her victims, it stretched into an eternity of agony, with every heartbeat a fresh betrayal from within, every vein a crucible. Their knees buckled, their armored forms collapsing in a discordant heap of steaming bodies.

Scherezade lowered her hand, green eyes gleaming with satisfaction as the last scream guttered into silence. More than enough of the bursted welts had landed blood on her flesh to offer some camouflage as to her nakedness. "See?" she said cheerfully to no one in particular, twirling her knife before striding down the corridor. "All you had to do was let me finish my massage."

She turned around, ready to head back into her room, when this time a droid, equally armored, equally ugly, appeared seemingly out of nowhere and blocking her way. This time, there was no blood for her to play with. That was all right though, she had so many other tricks up her sleeve. With the same flare of melodramatics, she moved into a fighting position, ready to-

Beep! Beep!

Her comm! She blinked, looking at it.

"That's my facial appointment!" she squealed, then looked back at the droid.

She was going to have to work fast if she wanted to make it on time… Assuming the spa staff was still alive to keep her schedule.

 

[CT-312]

//: Eira Dyn Jacen Breska Scherezade deWinter Darth Carnifex | Open //:
//: Lanupa , Kastolar Sector//:
//: Attire //:
//: EQUIPMENT: M.I. 'Halo' jump boots | Contact Lenses | Navi/Barca //:
//: WEAPONS: M.I. Model 7 shotgun| LO-22S| Sunshot Pistol| M.I. Model 6 hybrid pistol //:
//: DROIDS: 1 x LK War-X //:
//: ADDITIONAL EQUIPMENT: Kushute Grenades | Shiva Knife | S.A.N.D. Powder //:
//: 1 x Arrow head of Absence | Taozin amulet | LK Spider Slicer Droid //:
//: Objective II - LANUPA RAID //:​

It was hot. The snow patrol gear snagged on the way in began to feel like lead. Sweat prickled at the base of CT-312’s neck. Steam began clinging along the outer rim of her helmet’s visor again. Annoyance from the inconveniences began to rise. The heat, weight, and now the damn visor. Still, CT-312’s focus never strayed. Icey-blue eyes behind the visor locked with the molten copper across. Something wasn’t right. The figure in front wasn’t shaken from the sound of the gunshot, nor the carnage. If anything, he seemed… entertained. That was until when her weapon was aimed at him. The Scout noticed the figure’s subtle flash of predatory menace across his face. Unsettling.

When he spoke, CT-312 physically felt it. The sound wasn't sound at all. It was the low and resonant vibrations that throbbed through her bones and armor. The spa chamber itself seemed to hum as the water in the pool shivered in rhythm. This was not normal. Whoever this was. They weren't typical civilian. It was something else entirely. ‘Daeva.’ Whatever that meant… CT-312’s instincts screamed Danger. Threat. Eliminate. Maintaining trigger discipline, her training kept her grounded and ready. Brow furrowing beneath the helmet as her grip tightened on the weapon. Dismissing whatever was going on. Names don’t stop slugs.

CT-312 kept steady eyes as the figure rose.

Water spilled from off him in sheets. The man was over eight feet against her five-five self. Tall. Freakishly tall. 'What the—' Her jaw clenched. Breathing steady through the modulator. Instead of stepping back, CT-312 pressed down harder. Squaring her stance. Shotgun braced against her shoulder. Her sights slid lower as the steam parted. Noticing the rune-like tattoos wrapped across His chest and arms were in some Sith design. Half-recognizing from past missions, but still unfamiliar. Foreign. Maybe a tattoo addict. Or maybe just a monster.

As the steam parted more, her eyes and shotgun tracked lower. Assessing the threat. Her visor stilled for a second. Big. Blinking once. ‘Oh.’ Realization. Is that—

Yep. This was definitely the men’s spa.

Snapping the muzzle back up to this Daeva’s center mass of his broad chest. Exhaling once through the modulator. Steady and even. Helmet tilting ever so slightly at the words Little Hunter. Something about it scraped CT-312 wrong. She'd been called all types of names before, but Hunter? Especially little. Was it Mockery? A low growl built in her chest. Trapped behind her filters, only she could hear. Maybe recognition? Either way, not amusing.

“Doesn’t matter what I’m called.” Tone clipped with every syllable carrying a threat. “You’re in my line of fire. Don’t move.” CT-312’s tone dropped, pronouncing his name out slowly and deliberately, “Daeva.”

CT-312 shifted a half step. Sight never wavering. Calculations rolling through her mind. Distance, follow-up shots. A plan and a backup. Most importantly an exit. Always.

Still... something gnawed at the edge of her awareness. Subtle as gravity. Not fear. No. This was different. More like the air leaned towards Daeva. Pulling her in like an orbit. CT-312 shoved the pressure down. Hardening her focus. Her finger now rested against the trigger.

The Scout recalled the mission parameters. Round up the hostages. Eliminate anyone resisting. Secure Skull Ridge. Height meant nothing. Sith influence meant nothing. CT-312 would drop him all the same to complete her duty. Her tone through the helmet’s modulator was bone-dry of a soldier’s finality. No repeat. No second warning.

“Spa time’s over. Get dressed.”

 

[Darth Carnifex]

"Oh, I disagree. There is power in a name."

It was evident that the girl did not recognize the Dark Lord by appearance alone, which is why He'd opted to give her the name Daeva instead of Carnifex. It was so very rare to find Himself in a position of complete anonymity by coincidence. Something resembling amusement flickered across the Dark Lord' features, eyes shining like a jeweled diadem. But no fear, never fear, for the Dark Lord of the Sith had not once nor would He ever fear the instruments of mortal men.

"What will you do now, little hunter?" He approached through the water, the waves parting at His approach. "Armor and cloth hold little meaning to me, I can see through them as readily as one sees through glass. I see your face. Uncertainty wages a harrowing war with conviction, but which will emerge victorious." The Dark Lord's words wormed their way up the girl's spine, His very presence courting the nauseating sensation of delirium and panic.

It was as though fingers had begun to curl around the back of her neck, even from within the gear she'd worn. He was getting closer now, too close. The closer He got, the stronger her primal urge to fight or flee became.

"Pull the trigger, little creature," the Dark Lord crooned, "I want to see the fear etched in your face."

CT-312 | Jacen Breska
Eira Dyn | Scherezade deWinter ​

 

[CT-312]

//: Eira Dyn Scherezade deWinter Jacen Breska Darth Carnifex | Open //:
//: Lanupa , Kastolar Sector//:
//: Attire //:
//: EQUIPMENT: M.I. 'Halo' jump boots | Contact Lenses | Navi/Barca //:
//: WEAPONS: M.I. Model 7 shotgun| LO-22S| Sunshot Pistol| M.I. Model 6 hybrid pistol //:
//: DROIDS: 1 x LK War-X //:
//: ADDITIONAL EQUIPMENT: Kushute Grenades | Shiva Knife | S.A.N.D. Powder //:
//: 1 x Arrow head of Absence | Taozin amulet | LK Spider Slicer Droid //:
//: Objective II - LANUPA RAID //:​

CT-312’s visor hid the eye-roll. A single slow blink of indifference. Unamused. Uncaring. Power in a name. To others? Maybe. She understood the concept. Titles. Legacies. Weight, people liked to wrap themselves in. But to her? A number in the masses. Not even a line in the ledger. Names meant nothing.

This Daeva was an odd one. Confident. Too confident and calm. CT-312 knew better to let her guard down. Civilians and their words. He spoke riddles and layers. Words meant to dig under the skin… ‘My face?’ Was this meant to rattle her?

The chamber vibrated with his words. As he drew closer, she began to feel it. The odd pressure of something trying to press in. Ghosting over her nerves. Sensations she’d never really experienced and couldn’t understand. Was this some kind of force trick? Like the time when she was fighting with the Galactic Alliance? Some kind of attempt to make her feel frail? A sneer pulled at her lips behind the half-mask and helmet. Wrong. Irritation and annoyance grew. CT-312’s chest rumbled as a suppressed low guttural growl escaped past her clenched teeth, carrying faintly through the helmet’s modulator.

Maybe the heat of the spa was finally getting to Daeva. Perhaps he’d been in here too long. “I think you’re confused.” Her tone carried a sharpened edge. “There is no uncertainty.” Her finger toggled the shotgun’s settings. “but there definitely is conviction.” CHK-CHNK. The rounds in the shotgun’s chamber swapped. Disruptor shells humming readily.

The Scout observed that with every syllable and step he took towards her the pressing of invisible hands clawed at her neck. Stirring the primal war between fight and flight. Her body knew the signal. Her whole life training killed it.

First little hunter... Now little creature. Her visor stayed fixed. Reticle locked square on his chest. Shifting her stance, boots grinding against tile as she planted her stance harder. Shotgun braced. CT-312 didn't needed to be told twice to pull the trigger. Beneath the helmet, her mouth tugged in the faintest shadow of a smirk. Her tone came light with amusement “Okay.” Without hesitation, squeezed the trigger.

BOOM. A crack of thunder and a scream of energy filled the spa chamber. A single well placed disruptor shot aimed square at Daeva’s chest. CT-312's arms moved like clockwork. Racking the shotgun again. CHK-CHNK. Next round chambered, while aim never wavered. Ready to fire again if needed.

CT-312 almost laughed. It came out as a flat exhale. "Fear?" The term itself felt alien. A concept never written into her bones. She didn't even know what fear was supposed to feel like. Raised in fire and silence. Born into battles and war. She stood in fire before. Bled out in worse places. Most would break and she hadn't. Wouldn't. Fear was for people who had something to lose. Disposable. That's what she was.

If Daeva wanted fear. He'd come to the wrong trooper.

 

[Eira Dyn]

Objective: 2 - Spa Day
Outfit: Robe
Tag: Jacen Breska | CT-312 | Scherezade deWinter | Darth Carnifex

"Hmmm... perfect day. That is something you will have to figure out. Can't spoon feed you all the ways to my heart." Eira smirked, a teasing giggle that lingered in the back of her throat as she relaxed in the chair. "Just as I will have to wait and figure out if you were lying about those lips of yours. Bold claims." Eira heard the gunshots and screams. The chaos had begun and Eira was excited to finally get involved in the mission orchestrated by the DeathDrop.

Eira rose from her chair and gave Jacen a small forehead kiss, a tease of what was to come post mission. But also giving the man something he was known to enjoy a lot. "Good luck!" Her voice deep and sultry in that moment, with the slight huskiness that almost everyone still believed was still her nature voice.

Rolling her neck, Eira sighed contently, while massages, spa treatments and the hot tubs were all nice and conventional ways for someone to relax and enjoy their time. For Eira, the opportunity to kill, corrupt and lay waste to a place was just as appealing to her as a method of relaxation. However, she didn't jump into the chaos. Instead, Eira figured it would be a good chance to find the uber rich and start holding them as hostages. Extorting for credits seemed like a fun chilled start to Eira.

As she rounded the corner to where she heard some wealthier members of the spa had been spending time, Eira spotted 312 holding a shotgun to a target. "Oh excellent, a hostage?" Eira asked before a blast went off and then Eira got a better look at the intended target for shot. "Nooooo... 312....That's-that's Lord Carnifex...." Eira sighed, fearing this was not going to go well for the soldier, no matter what.

 

[Darth Carnifex]

The disruptor shot hit it's mark, and by all means should have been an instant kill. Instead, the energy fanned out on impact, and then seemed to seep into the Dark Lord's skin and disappear completely. Sparks of electricity danced out across His skin, the water He was standing in beginning to bubble and boil as the excess energy was diverted down into the water. Steam rose in heavier clouds, now obscuring the tall man from visual sight. If she'd fire again, she'd come to find that He was no longer there, her shots now merely parting the cloud of steam that had arisen.

"Yes, fear," came His voice, all around her now, "Even a creature of lower intelligence should know fear. Perhaps I overestimated you."

Suddenly, a hand shot out from the steam gathered at her back. Heavy, powerful fingers rushed down intending to clamp around the soldier's head, and pull her back with enough force to completely lift her off the ground. The Dark Lord intended to throw the girl across the spa, towards the closest pillar in range. His movements were nightmarishly quick, even for someone of His immense height and stature. Corded muscle pressed up from beneath hardened, scarred olive skin.

"Then again, creatures with numbers are akin to animals, are they not? What are the depths of an animal's intelligence?" Was it not strange that this stranger, who the girl didn't recognize, knew that her name consisted of numbers? Perhaps such a realization might not fully be appreciated yet, but while she did not know her assailant; He definitely knew her.

He never forgot a face, even one that had been previously hidden behind the faceless mask of a trooper.

CT-312 | Eira Dyn
Jacen Breska | Scherezade deWinter ​

 

[Jacen Breska]

SPA DATE​

WEARING:: Pictured
EQUIPMENT: NOTHING
LOCATION: :: LANUPA - WELLNESS SPA CENTER ::
TAG: Eira Dyn | CT-312 | Scherezade deWinter | Darth Carnifex

Jacen was a blubbering mess for a second as Eira planted a quick kiss on his forehead as she left. He thought of a million things he wanted to say as he watched her race off towards the ever growing sounds of chaos and battle. It'd have to wait, as she said, and he rose to his feet as well. A disappointed sigh escaped his lips as the other spa-goers began their frantic maneuvering. Jacen, however, casually returned to the men's locker room and swapped out his cozy robe for a black shirt and pants combo. He cursed the fact he didn't bring a weapon with him, but he knew that was an easily remediable situation.

Leaving the Locker, he saw a couple guards begin moving towards the sounds of carnage and he put on his best 'scared rich useless guy' voice,"

"Help! Help!" he cried as he rushed towards them, "They're killing everyone!" He said as he crashed into one of them,

"Sir, get the hell off me!" the guard he crashed into yelled, trying to shake Jacen off as the other guard moved to secure the room. With one of them distracted, Jacen immediately lunged into action, grabbing the guards rifle with both hands and kicking him away before swinging the rifle to bear on the other guard. A quick pull of the trigger sent a red blaster bolt burning into the other guards back. As he crumpled to the ground with a charred hole in his back, Jacen brought the rifle back to the guard he stole it from and said with a smirk, "Oops," before he blasted the guard.

The second guard fell to the ground and Jacen approached, taking the guard's belt. Inside were a few stun grenades and an extra power cell. He wrapped the belt around himself and went to go rejoin Eira and find out what was causing all the ruckus.

He found her, eventually, along with CT-312 and a naked giant man. The giant naked man wore a marking on his forehead. A marking Jacen was terrifyingly familiar with.

The mark of the Kainate. Glowing yellow eyes, long hair, tall, and the mark of the Kainate.

There was only one person this could have been.

"Lord Carnifex..." he said, his skin paling and his breath catching in his throat. She shot at Lord Carnifex? And he intended to return that aggression as the steam around them thickened and moved. In the blink of an eye, as if from a holovid, he was behind her, reaching for her.

Jacen didn't think. His body didn't let him. He just acted. His comrade was in danger and all of a sudden battle instinct and training took over. Muscle memory replaced self-preservation and he raised his newly acquired blaster at Lord Carnifex, squeezing the trigger before he could stop himself. Two twin bolts flew towards the Sith Lord before Jacen knew what he was doing. Immediately afterwards, he shook with fear and his eyes widened. Jacen felt his stomach drop and the air grow cold around him.

What have I done?

Why couldn't those guards just have killed him? It would have made it so much easier. Now he had a blaster and pointed it AND FIRED IT at one of five people in the galaxy he shouldn't have.

​

 

[Scherezade deWinter]

Objective: Spa Day! Wait, we had a mission?
Tags: Eira Dyn | Jacen Breska | Darth Carnifex | CT-312 | Open for all
Loadout: Birthday suit and some blood

---

The last guard's head rolled half a meter before it realized it was no longer attached to a body. Scherezade didn't even watch it finish the fall. She'd already plucked her knife free from another throat, the spray of arterial blood painting her like the galaxy's most enthusiastic artist. The spas' pristine halls would never recover. Glitter had a way of sticking forever, but blood? Blood sang when it stained.

Her bare feet padded almost silently over polished flooring, leaving slick red crescents in her wake. For a moment, the screams, the blaster fire, the droid barked orders… All of it became background music to her own private dance. It wasn't elegant. It wasn't refined. It was hungry.

The Sithling turned a corner, carving through a pair of guards too slow to realize she was already in their blind spot. One giggled scream, one wet gurgle, and they crumpled. She didn't even slow.

She could feel… Something. Something that was different than a few moments before. That presence. That massive, cold ocean of darkness that didn't move, but rather was. The weight of it almost pressed down her bones. In a far away memory that had never belonged to her, she remembered whispers and stories of centuries passed, when the stories were about members of her family. But this wasn't her family. Her family was irrelevant in today's galaxy. Still, she knew the sensation of old perceived bogeymen very well.

The corridor opened up, and there they all were: Eira's eyes flicking with frantic concern toward CT-312, who was a heap against a shattered pillar. Jacen, guns smoking, looking like he'd just poked a rancor and realized what a stupid idea that had been. And towering over all those short people, was the bogeymen she could no longer not-sense. Carnifex, Dark Lord of the Sith, in the flesh. Literally.

She padded in, blood-streaked, naked but for the shadows clinging to her skin and the single blade in her hand. Some might have thought it probably looked pathetic compared to the monolith of a man and his overwhelming presence. But Scherezade? Well, for one, she noted that yes, he was tall, but it was so refreshing to be around people taller than her! The rest of her teammates were short compared to her, and so were most people she'd somehow come across. Gone were the days where every male was 7"0 or taller. For a second thing, she fought predators on the regular, and most of them were bigger than her. The difference in size wasn't threatening to her. It was almost like home.

And still, her grip tightened. Her shoulders rolled. She felt that old, sweet spark inside her chest ignite. No one else here was going to do it. It was plastered all over their faces, or feelings. Eira would hesitate. Jacen would die in half a heartbeat. CT-312 was already down for the count for at least the next second. So it would be up to her.

The only one stupid enough or brave enough to take him on.

She'd faced worse odds before, and had always come out of it alive. Big handsome men didn't scare her. And bringing team mates back alive and more or less in one piece had been more or less her selling point when she'd joined their crew.

They'd all had their chance. Now it was her turn.

But first things first.

Scherezade licked her hand, the blood wetting again against her tongue. Force, she loathed the taste of it. And then her hand flickered towards her team mates, the wet drops expanding until they formed a paper-thin protective wall that separated her and Carnifex from the rest of them. Unfortunately, it wasn't strong enough to keep them safe forever. But if he'd go after them, it would give them a few more moments of a chance.

The Blood Hound focused her glowing green eyes on the Dark Lord of the Sith, where they remained while she rubbed her knife against her thick thighs, coating it with the blood of her victims from a few moments ago until she deemed it read, and then hurled the weapon at Carnifex.

She didn't expect the pointy end to get anywhere near him. That would be boring. Instead, as her blade spun through the air between them, the blood released it, turning into a giant net made of blood, ready to trap him in her blood magic if he did not take control of the situation.