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 a place Fel wanted to hit, but was deterred with Eriadu being in the sector. It was always a picky imperial-esque militarized stronghold in the outer rim and Sith could get away with disregarding imperials within the Blackwall compared to outside. 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, 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.

 

[Darth Virelia]

"Finding the Route."

Tags - Fel Vinic



Virelia descended the cantina steps like a shadow unfolding, the long sweep of her coat brushing the dust with a whisper of finality. Her violet eyes shimmered as they adjusted to the flickering sodium streetlamps and neon haze of Adriax's low-town district—then landed, sharply, on the man before her.

Not a local. Not imperial, not syndicate. And not a beggar, despite the scuffle that had just ended.

Her gaze moved past the pickpocket still curled on the pavement, lips trembling in faux remorse, and settled on the man with the stolen purse. He looked like a bruiser out of place—too confident for a scoundrel, too untidy for a professional. But his posture was wrong for prey. There was something in his stillness, something… feral. Curious.

And yet, he didn't bow. He didn't run.

That was interesting.

"Violence without appetite," she said aloud, voice like warm obsidian. "Either you're lying to yourself about what you enjoy, or you're wasting a perfectly good set of knuckles."

Her steps closed the distance until they were just barely apart. She passed the thief without a glance, without care. He was already forgotten. The man, however—he got a smile. Crooked. Playful. Measured.

"I've seen your face," she said, tapping a finger against her temple as if retrieving a file. "Once. In passing. Jutrand, perhaps? Or was it Nar Shaddaa's filthier cousin, that casino moon? You strike me as someone who only enjoys civilization when it's about to collapse."

Her voice dipped lower.

"So what's a man like you doing chasing street rats in the dark? This sector's full of bigger prey. And you… you look like someone who's grown tired of solitude but hasn't yet admitted it."

She stepped close—close enough that her presence became temperature, close enough that the air thickened between them with subtle perfume and the iron scent of voltage.

Then, softly, with a tilt of her head: "You've heard the rumors, haven't you? About the Fourth. About me."

A pause. Her smile sharpened.

"I'm real. And I don't mind being watched. But if you keep standing there like a curious child, I'll assume you're too scared to ask what comes next."

She turned her back to him and began walking. Slowly.

Invitingly.

 

[Fel Vinic]

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

If there was one thing Fel didn’t like about Sith was how much they loved to psycho analyze you for whatever reason they can find. He heard the venom in her voice. A sense of stubborn confidence, but that’s the kind of swagger you needed if you wanted to be the next Imperator. Fel had only allowed the woman to entertain herself as he just didn’t expect her to be here as well. But then again, why would either of them be here?

Fel was a Sith Lord, why was he out here fighting with street rats? The Dark Lady knew the answer and Fel for the first time in a while felt naked before one of his peers. As she closed the distance, he could feel sweat drip and his nose wince at the musk of metal and perfume permeating from her. It offended him, although Fel was not one to bite when he had no reason to. He chose to reply with a lukewarm answer. “Kid just snatched the credits I rightfully won. I wouldn’t have messed with him if he didn’t cross me.” That wasn’t the full answer though was it? Fel thought the Darth could shove it but the answers were laid out thanks to the force. The man had nostalgia for a life he left. A true Sith would’ve drawn blood for the sake of it, but when you’re a poor orphan, you only try to survive and scrap as less as possible so you can keep your body intact.

She then started to speak about herself. Prod him for his knowledge of her reputation. He matched pace with her as he prepared an answer. “It shouldn’t surprise you that Darth Virelia is the talk of the town on Jutrand. The lesser lords sing their praises of the runaway turned tempest making moves to claim the Fourth Legion as her own.” His tone was campy as if he were a bard spinning a tale in front of a crowd.

“And you ask why I’m here? Well if you would allow me, my lady. What’s a hot shot like you doing out here? You don’t seem like the touristy type.”

 

[Darth Virelia]

"Finding the Route."

Tags - Fel Vinic



Virelia didn't stop walking. She didn't need to. His footsteps followed, not out of obligation, but curiosity—and that, more than anything, told her all she needed to know.

The streets of Adriax whispered around them: low engines, filtered music from upstairs windows, the low murmur of people trying not to be heard. She moved through it like a specter in silk and armor, the hem of her coat trailing in silent rhythm, her chin lifted just so. Regal. But never performative.

"I don't mind your honesty," she said without looking at him, her voice molten with practiced warmth. "It's rare. And I don't punish survival instincts—" she turned her head slightly, just enough for him to catch her smirk "—unless they bore me."

A brief pause. Her eyes flicked sideways, amused. "Yours don't."

They passed under a flickering archway that led to one of the lower platforms overlooking the speeder lanes. The cantina behind them faded into a pulse of color and static. From this vantage, the undercity's sprawl revealed itself—a jungle of durasteel veins and forgotten corners. Here, even satellites blinked slowly, as if exhausted by watching this place.

At last, she stopped. Turned to him fully. Tilted her head.

"The runaway turned tempest," she repeated with a slow smile. "Careful, Fel. Flattery from your lips sounds oddly suspicious."

She stepped closer again—never threatening, never rushed. Just deliberate. As if every movement she made was choreographed for the eventual seduction of truth. Her presence lingered like static in the skin, a touch without contact. "But I'll answer you. You asked what I'm doing here."

She reached into the folds of her coat and produced a small black cylinder—barely larger than a palm-length stylus. She activated it. A thin beam projected a topographic slice of the Seswenna sector, marked in deep crimson and ultraviolet lines. Susevfi pulsed at the edge like a heart ready to burst.

"I'm carving the path," she said softly. "Through ash, blood, and bureaucracy. Mapping not just the stars, but the egos that choke them. If I'm to claim the Fourth, it won't be with a fleet dropped on their heads—it'll be a whisper that became doctrine before they even realized they were kneeling."

Then, with a breath like silk:

"And if I do it right, Fel… they'll ask you how long you knew me."

She leaned in—closer than necessary.

"And what we talked about, when we were alone."

 

[Fel Vinic]

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

Fel wanted to ask what the Darth meant by being bored by survival instincts unless they bored her. It didn't necessarily matter if it was meant as a compliment if she found Fel's survival instincts interesting. The Sith were always keen to leave passive-aggressive remarks to each other to measure their worth based on some fancy saber tricks or force powers they learned in a book somewhere. That or is he was revealing more of himself to one of the most notorious Sith in the galaxy. Considering who Fel's company was back in Sith space, he was associated with lords who were coasting on their fancy titles.

Fel had to kill for his. Even if no one could implicate him, it's not like his old master's resentment towards him was unknown. Everyone was just surprised that Fel survived past his master's attempts to kill him only so Fel could do it first.

Maybe the Darth had known. Maybe she didn't. But maybe that was the survival instinct she referred to.

He admittedly knew nothing of Darth Virelia except that she chose to take refuge on a rock of all things. There was definitely a reason for it. She could have a skyscraper on Jutrand if she wanted. But she chose a rock. All in all it wasn't Fel's business.

But before he could ponder, Fel stopped once Virelia did as she was about to answer his question. He eyed the piece of topography with arms crossed. Whatever she wanted, it was on Susevfi, and it seemed like Virelia was willing to keep herself entertained with Fel right next to her. At least that's what it seemed like.

It'd be worth more than just cheating at gambling.

Although when she leaned into him for the third time. “Can you not be so close to me when you smell like that?” He winced. It was the perfume that somehow made the unique scent of her armor all the more nauseating. He wished to never smell it again.

"So I'm guessing you have an idea of how to get to the place on your map from here?"

 

[Darth Virelia]

"Finding the Route."

Tags - Fel Vinic



Virelia didn't flinch. Didn't recoil. His comment, blunt as it was, earned only a languid smile and a soft, amused hum in her throat.

"I forget how delicate some of you are," she said, voice laced with dry indulgence. "Though I suppose I should be flattered—if the scent offends, but you haven't left, you must truly be curious."

She let the space between them stretch again, though not out of deference. It was a dance. A measured retreat to keep the tension taut. Like a string between two predators who hadn't yet decided whether they were courting or circling.

"I like what lingers," she added casually, her eyes drifting back to the projection. "Scents. Words. Plans. All of them stay in the air, long after the moment is gone. That's what power is, Fel. Not strength. Not rage. Residue."

With a flick of her fingers, the map adjusted—zooming outward to include Bordal, Sluis Van, and a long curve that cut below the Hydian Way. She stepped beside him, shoulder to shoulder now, professional and deliberate.

"I have several," she replied. "Paths. Contingencies. Weak points to exploit depending on how loudly I want to play. I could take the Sluis Corridor and bribe a few admirals to look the other way. Or stir up chaos on Belgaroth and slide through the gap while everyone's watching the fire."

Her hand hovered over a sector marked in pale blue—neutral, quiet, easily forgotten.

"But this," she said, tapping a finger. "This unremarkable little vein is the path no one's watching. A trade route decommissioned after the last corporate treaty failed. Dead to public charts. Alive to smugglers and people who know how to listen. I won't just arrive at Susevfi, Fel. I'll surface beneath it. Before its defenders even know they've been penetrated."

She turned to face him again, lips curling just slightly.

"Does that offend your sensibilities too?" she teased. "The way I like to slip in… quietly."

Then, lowering her voice:

"Or are you starting to realize that I might smell like hell… but I make a very persuasive kind of sense?"

 

[Fel Vinic]

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

Fel paced as Darth Virelia played a routine. By the stars, she's insane. He said to himself as the Darth pulled away and teased him about scents or lingering or whatever the hell she was going on about. But he was nothing if not a Sith and he knew more than anything that Sith loved to be pedantic and ominous. Everyone had their own way of doing it. But the Darth just happened to be obnoxious about it. If it were someone else and not him, they might be as impressed with Darth Virelia's ability to command and dominate the atmosphere. But Fel believed she was overcompensating.

He let her continue her performance as she zoned in just under the Hydian Way and just before he was about to ask her a question, she invaded his personal space again. She had presented herself as a cold and calculated individual as she went on and on about contingencies and an obsession with the bigger picture. She was obnoxious for sure, but this was something that was important to her as she presented her case for the trade lane that was decommissioned.

She was proud of herself. Not just about her analysis. But about her ambition and how she put in the effort to achieve said ambitions. Something Fel could respect, and something he slightly envied. Behind her cadence, there was a sense of excitement that could be heard passed the sinister and devious schemer that Darth Virelia was. Behind her demeanor was what made Sith stand out from any other being from the galaxy, pride.

"Does that offend your sensibilities too?" she teased. "The way I like to slip in… quietly."

Then, lowering her voice:

"Or are you starting to realize that I might smell like hell… but I make a very persuasive kind of sense?"

Fel snickered. "I'm nothing if not excited to be in the same room as an opportunist." His cadence matched the Darth, as though he was now seeing the dark presence that gave her such fame. "I'm starting to think you're only looking to shape hell in your image. My only question is where do we start carving the door into Susevfi?"

Fel probably found something worth his time that wasn't cheating at gambling.