Private Uneasy Allies

[Kasir Dorran]

Elmindra Xitaar​

It had only been a few days since his return to Korriban, and from afar, Kasir already found himself tethered to the intricate web of politics— a game he simply didn’t care to play. When duty waned, Kasir often gravitated toward refining his skillset; the nearby academy offered the perfect space. The dark energy here felt ripe, much like the hidden enclave on Mustafar— a place where he felt truly connected to himself.

Amid a budding alliance, his role as a blade was deemed necessary; he was already informed that his presence would soon be required for other matters here. Any form of collaboration had always been a struggle, even within his own doctrine, and now he was being thrown into unfamiliar waters. For someone who thrived in solitude, he was now grappling with the demands that diplomacy might bring, though he did understand the potential for both sides, along with aid in retrieving the Disciple of Faith.

Hours upon hours, he honed his lightsaber skills, navigating through complex sequences of raw motion; for Juyo, it demanded nothing less than total surrender.

Going through the motions, there was something else, something unnerving at his consciousness; it was as if the air whispered of observation.

Furthermore, the Darkseekers instincts told him he was not alone. As beads of sweat trickled down the side of his face, he scanned the pillars and other surroundings, senses extending to their full capacity, searching for the source.

Try as he might, he was met with only emptiness.

Upon completion of his training session, the temple's alluring pull became almost irresistible. Rather than retreating from the academy's grounds, he opted for meditation in his current position, to seek clarity. With elegance he lowered himself to his knees. Here, upon a planet where many Sith legends were buried, he allowed the tendrils of the Force to envelop him, delving into calmness amidst the chaotic energies. Feeling the power begin coursing through him, he started to murmur the lines of the Sith Code.

The Sangnir's mind revolved around recent success: the battle at Woostri, a mission to Naos III, and the breaking of a Jedi's mind on Enarc. With everything combined, it placed him back on the path to mastery. Having endured trials that only left him battered before then, the taste of victory was more satisfying than ever. The failures had become like fuel, mixing with frustration and fear to create a fire that kept driving him forward.

Descending further, the darkness enveloped him, its icy grip both comforting and unforgiving. Kasir's breaths became measured, matching the void he now traversed; clearly, it was a place where compassion and peace had not once ever dwelled, not even in his youth on Dromund Kaas.

Seconds bled into minutes, and after a period of being lost in time, the Force soon began to stir once more, a ripple jolting through his being, pulling him from the depths of meditation, and into the present.

More than a simple disturbance, it carried the presence of someone approaching. Yet, it didn’t resonate as a threat, a sensation that felt almost foreign to one so often surrounded by danger. Moreover, it didn't seem like a friend, nor a foe, but something entirely different.

Silence stretched for several beats until a figure now standing before him finally spoke; the was voice smooth yet carried an air of authority. “Kasir Dorran, you have been summoned by the First Lord of Korriban.”

He lingered on his knees a moment longer before finally beginning to rise; and as he stood, his gaze, sharp and focused, absorbed every detail of the messenger. His mind, like a machine, began to process the knowledge gathered since Wonosa's arrival, along with what was bestowed upon him by the High Priest.

Even in silence, there were notes of defiance, but he would allow himself to be led to the Palace of Vardin.

 

[Elmindra Xitaar]

Korriban | Kor'ethyr Academy

​

The presence of Kasir Dorran on Kor'ethyr's academy grounds did not go unnoticed, despite his efforts to seek out solitude for his training. As he made his way to one of the many training grounds within, Kasir would find the ever-changing campus to be teeming with vibrant and capable beings — the future of the Sith Order, their minds and bodies being cultivated and shaped with militant efficiency. He drew the attention of more than a few onlookers, students and staff alike, his presence alone enough to command a space to train, but theirs were not the only eyes upon him. From where she skulked beneath the reflective surfaces he passed, a gaze far more sinister followed the Sangnir, like an icy breath on the back of his neck, like a rasping whisper in his ear, never seen but ever present.

For hours, she watched him. Though she rankled at being commanded to do so by the one who called herself First Lord, she soon became enthralled by the way he moved to the rhythms of the Dark side.

Eventually, like a creature emerging from a pool, she pulled herself out of the shadows from which she watched. Her contorted body, a slinking mess of limbs and hair, took the shape of something far more palatable to the eyes of mortal men—a feminine form, shrouded in a cloak dark as night so that only the illusion of pale supple lips and a soft jawline could be seen from beneath her hood. She approached, taking on the role of messenger, but to a keen gaze, her presence eluded to something more.

"Kasir Dorran, you have been summoned by the First Lord of Korriban," she said.

She waited for him to rise before she turned, expecting him to follow.​

Korriban | Vardin | Palatial Capital | Spires of Kor'ethyr

​

Built into the great Spires of Kor'ethyr, the Palatial Capital of Vardin was a breathtaking convergence of timeworn grandeur and extraordinary architecture. Its vast and echoing hallways and chambers were not ostentatious. Rather, the place commanded a certain reverence for the ancient and powerful entities of Darkness that had constructed it, for the rulers who had claimed and lost its throne, and for the souls that still haunted its halls. Many of those souls now served again beneath Darth Caedes , their new King, their various reanimated forms ever-present throughout Korriban as a constant reminder of their King's vigilance and power.

The messenger led Kasir to the Council's central meeting chamber within the palace, but as she turned to step through the open stone doors, he would find that she was gone as he rounded that same corner. Vanished, as if she'd never been there.

In the middle of the room was a massive stone table with twelve stone chairs and one pointedly larger seat, a throne, at the head. Behind the throne was a massive viewport that took up most of the wall on the far side of the room and looked out upon the Valley of Golg and the vast dune seas beyond. Still as statues, two Jen'koshû dreadlordes stood guard at either end of the chamber, near the only entrance and exit. There, standing before the viewport, Elmindra Xitaar turned to face the new arrival. The tall Falleen woman's militant stance, with hands clasped behind her back, accentuated her rigid posture as she peered down her nose at the young man before her with a scrutinizing gaze.

“Kasir Dorran,” she pronounced in greeting. “Welcome to the Palace of Vardin.” Her voice did not require volume to cut through the silence and it carried with it an air of command and cordial formality that belied a lifetime of political intrigue among Sith.

“I am Elmindra Xitaar, First Lord to the King of Korriban and Admiral of His Majesty’s fleet." She unclasped her hands from behind her back to show she was unarmed, perhaps in a show of good faith or perhaps out of arrogance, and she slowly approached.

“It is my understanding that you work closely with Darth Strosius ," she paused, her large reptilian eyes peering into his as if attempting to dissect his thoughts.

“Which means we are to be allies. For now...”​

 

[Kasir Dorran]

Elmindra Xitaar
​

When summoned, there was no hesitation, nor was there any trace of doubt; still, it was rare for him to answer to any other than the High Priest. Kasir was anything but a mindless servant. His passive detachment embraced all, drinking in the corridors, every detail etched into his mind. Whatever was to unfold today, he vowed to remain in control.

There was an oppressive weight that settled over him upon entering the Palace of Vardin; far from feeling like home, it was merely another testament to Sith prowess, steeped in ambition. The grandeur presented offered nothing to one so easily content in the solitude of shadows, easily recognizing this to be a place of power plays and dangerous games.

It was true he knew of the King, but his Council were missing pieces of a puzzle, yet still more than names lingering on the edge of his memory. He had arrived on Korriban only days after Darth Strosius, an assignment keeping him away longer than he would have liked, only to be called forth by the Sith Order to Woostri. But soon he would have the answers desired.

When the messenger vanished around the corner, her presence fading away like smoke, the Darkseeker’s cold gaze lifted for only a beat; he betrayed not the faintest hint of intrigue.

Just after, his steps came to a sudden halt.

The throne, the viewport, the guards, the Falleen woman– nothing would escape the Sangnir. When their stares locked, he felt hers press against him; it was as sharp as the ceremonial dagger concealed under the black cloak.

Under different circumstances, he might have even deemed it a challenge. She wasn’t the first to size him up, nor would she be the last.

Kasir’s lips parted with a deathly cold exhale. “First Lord Elmindra Xitaar,” he murmured, acknowledging her importance.

The chances were rather high that she already knew every detail of his role within Wonosa, which made her words insulting.

Next, he smoothly shifted into another shared tongue. “Nu sua jiso kovoti.”

It was not an olive branch; it was a warning.

Orbs that carried no emotion shifted to each of the guards, mainly out of habit, before returning to the other Sith. Fleeing was never in his thoughts; he only understood conquest. With both arms hanging loosely at his sides, his wrists slowly began to rotate, revealing pale hands that were also unarmed. Returning the gesture was effortless.

“For now. That suggests uncertainty. I much prefer clarity.”

A pause.

"I've never been the type to linger where I am not needed,” he continued, his tone steady. He was clearly well aware of his role, a path far removed from the realm of politics; instead, it was one of destruction. "I am of use in only one way, First Lord. If that is what you require, then lay it out to me– without any fancy words."

​

 

[Elmindra Xitaar]

Though it was far from perfect, Elmindra was already pleasantly surprised by his display of self control and respect, especially in contrast to the reckless abandon of Strosius. Revna Marr had already proven to the Falleen that there was in fact some sensibility and competence to be found among the Wonosa, perhaps this Kasir Dorran could further persuade her.

"Only one?" She asked, clearly doubtful of his claim, one dark brow lifting along with the corner of her mouth as she slowly drew nearer at a casual pace.

"I will offer you the benefit of my assumption that you are neither humble nor foolish enough to believe that to be true, Champion of Wonosa." In contrast to the icy indifference of his steady tone, the implication behind her words and the way she spoke his title was akin to how one might speak of an artifact of great potential—one she intended to pull secrets from. "So I will instead respect your desire to conceal the extent of your usefulness from me, just as I have chosen to conceal the extent of my knowledge of you."

She brushed long sharp fingers over a control panel built into the meeting table as she passed and a hologram of the desert surrounding Vardin sprang to life with a specific location marked on the display.

“I wish for you to accompany me into the desert to investigate a recently rediscovered location of great interest to the kingdom. There are likely to be ancient secrets within, secrets with which even the King’s Council are yet unfamiliar.” She paused in her pursuit no more than a few feet from him.

“Should you accept and prove that you are more well-behaved than your High Priest, it will go far in earning my certainty of our alliance."​

 

[Kasir Dorran]

Elmindra Xitaar
​

His gaze stayed fixated on the First Lord as she drew near, noting the skepticism that may have very well mirrored his own; however, it was masked just beneath a more composed facade. The shadows that lingered just below high cheekbones sharpened his ethereal like features, making the primal hunger of his kind evident. While controlled, it was never completely absent.

Both hands drifted before him, the prosthetic one coming to rest over the organic, fingers overlapping. And just as a strand of raven black hair fell across his cheek, a tilt of the head was given, allowing it to fall back in place. “You may find seeking my usefulness is much like a double-edged blade; many wish to wield it, but instead, they die upon it."

At Elmindra's mention of the High Priest, the desert surrounding Vardin suddenly shifted in his mind's eye, transforming into a graveyard— no doubt, it could be the final resting place for one who spoke carelessly of the one he served.

“A lesser Sith would have sufficed for such a task,” he remarked, voice steady. The suspicion in his words would be easy to recognize. “Why me?”

Hearing the answer from her lips would allow him to further gauge the truth behind everything presented. Still, a flicker of intrigue whispered at the edges of Kasir’s consciousness. Personally, he cared little for this alliance, wondering if it was merely another step toward finding the Disciple of Faith, a figure dear to the High Priest, and undoubtedly a bond that eluded him entirely.

Much like when stepping into this room moments ago, clarity was the top priority. “What exactly are we searching for? And when do you expect us to begin?”

Once more, he observed the Falleen, as if waiting for something else to make itself known. The Darkseeker knew true prowess lay not in physical strength, but in dominance of the mind. “If I am to prove myself ‘well-behaved,’ tell me, what standards do you hold? It is not my intent to disregard your title, but how would I know you are even worth mine?”