First Reply To Map Conquest

[Darth Virelia]

"Finding the Route."

Tags - OPEN



The Seswenna system was warm beneath a crescent moon, shadows stretched long under neon signs that buzzed and flickered in half-life above the low-town district of Adriax, the third largest city clinging to Seswenna's scrubland belt. The air was thick with dry dust, low-grade power emissions, and the distant shimmer of starships breaking atmosphere in the far west. But Virelia was not looking to the sky tonight.

She had long since ceased looking up.

Instead, she sat in the darkest corner of a failing cantina—the kind that didn't pretend to offer dreams, only cheap oblivion and questions asked too late to matter. A woman alone at a cracked booth was rare here. A woman dressed like this—in high-collared charcoal fabric and fine synthweave, sleek and unmarked by travel dust—was rarer still.

But none dared approach. They never did.

Not when her gaze sliced cleanly through every glance.

Not when something in her posture suggested she could, and would, end the world of anyone foolish enough to think her company was theirs to court.

She drank nothing. Ate nothing. Spoke to no one—until she chose to.

A holo-map flickered quietly from the panel before her, muted in light and encrypted by internal cipher. Her gloved hand hovered just above the projection, gliding delicately across the rimward frontier like a maestro conjuring a symphony from invisible strings. Names flared and dimmed beneath her fingers. Far too many steps between Morrigal and her prize.

But she would make it one line. One motion. One breathless gasp across stars.

Susevfi. The final gate before dominion.

And standing between her and the Fourth Legion were dozens of sovereign worlds, factions of interest, and individuals with inconvenient dreams of sovereignty.

She would extinguish them. Softly, at first.

Then absolutely.

But not yet.

Not here.

"You're a long way from Coruscant," came a voice from behind the bar. Gravel-laced and disinterested, like old droids talking in their sleep. She did not look up.

"That's not where I'm from," she replied coolly.

The bartender, a gray-skinned Zabrak with the look of a man who'd long stopped hoping to understand his clientele, raised a brow. "You've got the posture of someone from Coruscant."

"I used to play that role. Briefly. I outgrew it."

He made a vague sound and turned away.

She had no interest in small talk. Not unless it could buy her what she needed.

Virelia turned her attention back to the holo-map, the data shifting with new coordinates as her internal algorithms ran simulations.

The Velgrath campaign was not a war of planets.

It was a sequence. A chain reaction. A poem written in annihilation and exactitude.

Every system she crossed would be left altered. Every delay weaponized. Every ally—chosen for weakness as much as strength. She would find them. She would be them, and when the Fourth Legion rose beneath her command, there would be no more doubt.

Only inevitability.

A small smile returned to her lips as she stood, her silhouette clean and long beneath the fading lights. Her boots made no sound on the floor as she passed through the cantina door, violet eyes scanning the skyline.

Still no stars. Not yet.

But soon.

 

[Fel Vinic]

Tags: Darth Virelia
Gear: Light-up jacket | Two Lightsabers | Spacer Clothes | Shades​

Fel was never known among the more prominent Sith Lords and he liked it that way. No acolytes to train or freaky alchemy sessions to attend. He kept to himself in his manor on Jutrand, touring the galaxy and getting involved in whatever trouble he wanted to keep him occupied before returning home and shutting himself in from the rest of the galaxy.

The Seswanna system was place Fel wanted to hit, but was deterred with Eriadu being in the sector. It was always a picky imperia-esquel militarized stronghold in the outer rim and while Sith could get away with disregarding imperials outside the Blackwall. Hell even common criminal scum would pick on a Sith even if they looked unthreatening as Fel did. That much was true when Fel walked out a gambling ring that was fronting as a hardware store. Sure he used the force to cheat, how else would he win the jackpot? His luck immediately ran out when some street rat picked a purse of credits that Fel won. A good couple hundred were in that purse and while Fel could've used the force to teach the punk a lesson, he decided he wanted to do this the old fashion way.

He wasn't using the force to catch up to the pickpocket. Just pure adrenaline and cardio. He was a Nar Shadda kid through and through, they didn't need to use magic to settle disputes. Just bare knuckles and pure skill. But even without the force, Fel could easily catch up and tackle the punk into the street.

He barreled the thief to the ground, taking control from the back and keeping him held down and mounting with legs on either side of his body while revving up to punch the thief if it came to blows.

But the kid, a decade younger than Fel started to plea for his life and his apparent sick mother. Even without the force, Fel could see through the lies. He used that one before and he wouldn't fall for feigned weakness. He really wanted to fight the kid for the creds, but now he realized that he wasn't even worth a scrap. Fel just snatched the purse back in hand.

Not realizing that as he stood and turned he faced what was unmistakably a Sith emerging from the cantina. No older... maybe even a little younger than the thief. She had a distinct look to her. Fel had heard of her at least in descriptions when he was out for social calls on Jutrand. No doubt she was the one looking to claim the Fourth Legion for herself. But he only stood and pondered why she was here on this backwater.