Kitaara Shiri

"To strength and power, then," Angelia said with a purr, as she wrapped her long fingers around the vial. "I accept with gratitude, Sister of the Night." The premise of what the Lady Qaela promised her was fascinating. This was a dark alchemy the likes of which she had no understanding or experience. Her strengths were in stealth and guile, in illusion and deception. Venturing into the spirit realm like the Krath sorcerers of old exceeded her record of experience. Truly, she would also be remiss if she did not consult her teacher on the sincerity of this woman. No fool was she, nor was she a stranger to the exhaustive annals of bloody Sith history, in which every form of betrayal was expected. While this Dathomiri darkwitch spoke sincerely, and they had no prior history which would indicate a motive, she was too practiced in paranoia from leading a meticulous double life to accept such a gift without thorough vetting. "Is there aught that you would have me do for the Empire, my lady, or simply continue with my work?" she asked, slipping the small vial into the pouch at her belt. She planned to spend an extended amount of time at the Academy such that she could carry a full report to Haphaestus as to the complexion of Sith recruits. In the meantime, if she could make herself useful, she would do so.

Politics. Pure and simple, that was what the Lady Qaela had called her here for. The questions excited her; the careful exposition of the information the Headmistress held revealed much about her connectedness within the Sith. None but the Master Sheog or the Dark Lord himself, save those who had come across her path here on Korriban, knew anything of her identity as the Lady Angelia. This Qaela's knowledge inferred her connection to one or the other, and if she had to guess, from the words that fell from the human's lips like silk, all her bets would be on the Dark Lord Exodus. "I am subject to none," she began carefully. Deference filled her posture, but on this one point she would be firm. "I serve the Lord Exodus, the Sith Empire, for our mutual strength and benefit. My teacher, Haphaestus, has never claimed masterhood over me. He is, as you say, not accepted universally by those among the Sith. This is pleasing to him, and to me as well. To pursue universal approval is to be weak, without a spine. To stay silent, and appear to have universal approval, however: this can be a great asset." She maintained a stately countenance, even as the one to whom she was speaking turned her attention outwards. Nothing happening in this room would be done carelessly, but the Lady Angelia was not so easily goaded. "My teacher trained me to be the perfect specimen of a Sith. Well-educated and well-conditioned, forced to work for access to all that I have acquired and now lacking in nothing, hidden in plain sight and able to draw all attention to myself at a whim. These things he did for me so that I may continue such a legacy, of brotherhood--" she stopped, and cocked her head to one side with a Cheshire grin "--and sisterhood among such as you and I, for our mutual benefit and the strengthening of our Empire. We gain nothing by petty rivalries or gratuitous behaviors, and even a pawn may clinch the win of a game of Dejarik, no?" Tossing her lekku over her shoulder, Angelia stood poised, the perfect image of a predatory feline at her leisure. Truthfully, it was no small source of pride to reflect on the upbringing that Haphaestus had given her. They were a deadly team when working together, as evidenced by the untimely demise of the Wookiee Grandmaster at her hand. The depravity of the Lothja Mines seemed like but a distant memory, even if the resilient survivalist grit of the child who had bought and paid for her escape in blood still remained. She had been molded by his hand, shaped into a weapon and a tool that had the power to sway the galaxy. Perhaps more importantly, she had acquired the skill to shape such weapons herself. After all, why else had the Academy's Headmistress sent for her?

Headmistress. That explained the cascade of ichorous venom she felt oozing from the commanding presence in the center of the academy. It was like an inverse beacon: a central gravitational pull of energy, not emitting light but absorbing it. Lifting a hand to halt the Cathar at her side as the Sith Trooper departed, she hissed a delighted exhale through her teeth. Narrowed eyes focused on something invisible in the distance, and her grin was that of a smug nexu. Spontaneously, she took the Cathar's furred hand in hers and pressed a small metal object into it. "I will return for you. In the meantime, this should allow you access to all that you have need of while you remain here." Upon inspection, Ailbasí would find a traditional Sith medallion, emblazoned with the brilliant dark star of the Sith Empire and inscribed with the Sith Code, a coveted trophy won by those endeavoring to seek acceptance into the new order. Catlike footsteps carried the Twi'lek into the heart of the Academy. Though the building was itself a new construct, and mazelike in the construction of its hallways, she was swept along by the tide of darkness, following the summons like she would follow the trail of gutkurrs to find water in the Lothian jungles. The higher she climbed within the desert pyramid, the warmer the air became. Astride the nearby valley of tombs, it seemed to Angelia that the academy itself curled its mighty fist in retaliation against the Korriban sun. A complement of troops stood at the door to the chamber that rested at the top, the capstone of the construct, Lady Angelia's destination, and she gave them cool nods as they escorted her within. With her feet planted shoulder-width apart, her hands clasped behind her back, and her lekku tossed over her shoulders, Kitaara studied she who must be the Lady Darksong. Her features were startlingly young--she had expected the Headmistress of the Sith Academy to be a woman of much more distinguished age and stature--but an unmistakable aura of grit and steel indicated that she carried the wisdom of experience. Other than that, and being somewhat appealing by human standards, there was nothing particularly remarkable about her. Which, Kitaara acknowledged with the hint of a smirk, probably meant that she was not to be trifled with. "You sent for me, I believe," she announced quietly. "I am Kitaara Shiri of Lemnos Industries, but known to few as the Lady Angelia."

The edges of pain closed in on her mind, spiking for the shred of a moment before Angelia's own defenses kicked in and she pulled away from the Cathar's consciousness. A Cheshire grin stole across her face at the resourcefulness of the young Ailbasí. There was a haunt about her, a shred of lingering darkness that collected among the essence of those who had removed others' souls from their bodies. And she had weaponized it. Not only did that speak well of her ability to know where she ended and others began, but it proved a useful application of a past experience that others at her level of training might shy away from. The most distasteful aspects of Sheog, from her experience, had already been decried by this apprentice of his. Perhaps forging an order like the one she and Haphaestus had dreamed of was not outside of the realm of possibility just yet after all. No sooner had she reestablished her mental defenses than the blur of fur came flying at her in a head-on assault. The Twi'lek met the ill-fated attempt with the force of two solid years of rigorous physical training under Haphaestus: she wouldn't be able to dodge contact with her opponent in entirety, instead choosing to lower her center of gravity and throw her shoulder forward. Ailbasí's momentum would carry her solidly into the blow, and the Twi'lek shifted her weight forward and up, with the intent to flip the Cathar over her shoulder and lay her on her back on the sparring mat. As she did so, however, a creeping coldness exerted its existence on her awareness; a call to arms. It bore urgency and necessity of investigation. The demonstration of the young Cathar in the registration office, and now, here on the sparring grounds, confirmed to Kitaara what she already knew. "Your will is strong, but your body is weak," she hissed, though a pleased glint remained in her eyes. "If you desire to learn such things, to master yourself as you master control of the Force, I am willing to teach you what I know. But it will not come without cost to you, and you must not give your answer lightly. The Sith Order will no longer suffer fools, or those who dominate their brothers, who revel in needless destruction. And now," she added, as the murmur of voices grew larger and the arena began to empty, moving toward the commanding presence that located itself in the heart of the academy, "our attention is required elsewhere. Tomorrow you may choose to begin, and ease will be forgotten."

The scent of anxiety rolled thick off the mind of the female Cathar, this Zirtani seeming to almost tremble in anticipation as Kitaara led the way into the central training arena. The sounds of battle and the fragrance of sweat from easily a dozen species who gathered here under the banner of Exodus' empire assailed the senses immediately, and there was something primal that the concoction elicited from within the Lady of the Sith. A low-level rumble from the instinctual center within her bespoke a gathering storm cloud from within the feline, a premeditated plan of attack that she could see clearly through the open window in the other's mind. There was something admirable about the intensity of her strike, but her unpracticed footsteps gave her away. Angelia rolled away from the chemical cloud, wrapping the heavy velvet of her cloak around the extended claws and with a dancer's grace dropping an elbow into the small of Ailbasí's back. The mace dispersed harmlessly with a summoned gust of air from within the Temple, carrying it towards another pair of duelists, soon to become their issue instead. Side-stepping the clumsy and insecure footwork of the Cathar, she backed out of reach of the long and lethal-looking claws, unclasping the cloak from around her shoulders and letting it flutter to the ground, exposing the reinforced combat suit underneath. "Full marks for spirit, but yet unskilled. Tell me," she purred in her Lothian accent as she made ready should another strike be attempted, "since your footwork tells me all I need to know, was it purely his alchemical skill that inspired you to learn from the Lord Sheog? What did you learn at his side?" Curiously, she reached for Ailbasí's mind, testing to see if she would meet resistance.

Folding her arms across her chest, Angelia shifted her weight and settled in against the wall once more. "He deserved it, then." Her lekku shivered, a barely noticeable tic, but one she knew outed her feelings where this Cathar's instructor was concerned. The cool and aloof demeanor refused to waver, but a glimmer of fire was visible in her dark eyes. The comportment of the mad Hutt was forefront in her memory as she spoke, the thought of his manic hunger creeping along her bones. Her brief brush with his following did not sit well with her. There was a truth of his species concealed maliciously under the strength of his entourage: the greed that draws all things--material wealth, possessions, even beings themselves--that Kitaara had seen present in every Hutt slaver she had ever had the misfortune to cross. The Dark Lord trusted Sheog, and that was enough for her at this juncture, but she had seen nothing of his actions to demonstrate an identity as a liberator. Perhaps this girl could speak to that. In any case, she was curious to see what he had managed to teach her if much of her study had focused on the trance state. Crossing to the desk where the clerk once more cowered, she glanced at the Cathar's file, still open on the terminal before him. She was registered as one Ailbasí Zirtani, and the lewd sketches that replaced her progress reports were as real as the man's sarcastic dismissal. Her cerulean skin purpled in the apples of her cheeks. Never had she met a single male of any species that could resist such objectification, and usually, it was less about sating their internal lusts and much more about the removal of power from a female they considered a potential threat to their ego. Haphaestus was the one exception to her experience, and she attributed this to his mysterious hybrid nature. If this young Ailbasí had earned such targeted disdain, it was likely that the males of Sheog's entourage had perceived her as a threat because of her superiority. The clerk, who was struggling to bring up an electronic version of the paperwork to which he had so smugly diverted Ailbasí, suddenly found himself struggling against an invisible hand that inexorably tightened around his windpipe, drawing his face down to press into the cold surface of his desk. Clinically, dispassionately, Kitaara cocked her head to one side as she studied him. "Let this be a lesson to you," she announced coldly, and as his eyes rolled back in his head, giving up consciousness, her icy grip released. HIs chair spun recklessly away from him as he slumped sideways out of it unceremoniously into a heap on the floor. Straightening once more to her full height, Angelia returned her attention to Ailbasí. Extending a hand, she indicated the hallway that led into the belly of the academy, the central training atrium where outcries and snarls and clashes of sabers could be heard. "You need not prove yourself on paper. Come, show me what you have learned, and I shall determine your worthiness," she said with a sly and challenging grin.

The Helios, its sleek Nubian hide reflecting the burnished bronze of Korriban's surface, appeared alongside a Grakk Megahauler registered to Lemnos Industries, Nubia. Without delay, the ships were granted clearance, and in short order proceeded to the surface. The stark dry heat of the Korriban desert contrasted sharply with the temperate climate of Nubia, and even the jungle heat of Ryloth was not a direct comparison. The moisture in the air deep in the dark jungles of Ryloth bore all the same heat, but the humidity at least made the temperature slightly bearable. Here, the scalding sands lapped at her ankles, warming her feet through her boots, the harsh wind like a vast ocean that sapped all the vibrancy of her silken skin. Wrapping the velvet cloak about herself more firmly, she crossed the dusty ground of the spaceport. The journey to Korriban had seen her grappling with how much to present her true self: was she simply Director Kitaara Shiri, executive representative of Lemnos Industries? Was she Darth Angelia of the SIth Empire, confirmed by the hand of Haphaestus and blessed with the welcome of Lord Exodus? Dare she be both? Once her feet crossed the threshold into the Academy proper, however, she knew the answer. Tossing her cloak back, she shook her head-tails free and smiled wickedly at the current of power running through her, that which had been cultivated on this planet for countless millennia. The darkness was palpable, delicious; while the atmosphere itself was arid, swimming in the undercurrents of the dark side was like biting into a ripe jura fruit and letting the juices run unchecked down her chin. She was afforded all the courtesy of a visiting dignitary, especially having revealed the gift she had traveled thus far to bring. Her personal droids shouldered the bulk of the task of unloading the shipment of Enyo-class droids into the Academy's belly, taken to be reprogrammed and assigned according to need. They would serve as worthy adversaries for training, extra soldiers for the Empire's conquests, and guardians of its halls. Kitaara had been waiting only a few minutes for her staff to return, in a small office off of the main intake lobby, when a commotion just outside kicked up dust in her impression of the Force. Slipping through the door quietly, she watched as a young entrant, a female Cathar by the look of her, asserted her dominance over a clerical peon who had presumably denied her entrance in some unfavorable way. Leaning casually against the side wall, she grinned at the young Cathar, the muscles in her jaw tightening against the ornate harness she wore over her lekku. "What did it do to offend you?"

"All is prepared, then?" Lady Angelia murmured, wrapped in her cloak of midnight velvet. In her hands, she clutched a datapad with the readout of the large contingent of Enyo-class droids which had been packed aboard one of the cargo ships operated by Lemnos Industries. In the months since the Lord Exodus had paid them a covert visit, Lemnos had redoubled their efforts and exponentially increased production numbers. Though the bulk of their business was now conducted from their factory and showroom on Talus, Nubia still kept a special place in Kitaara's heart as the foundation of their great success and the place where she had left her shackles behind her. From their profits, they had assembled a large order of droids to be delivered to the Academy on Korriban as a show of Lemnos' immediate contribution to the strength and might of the Sith Empire. Owing to the size of the order, Darth Angelia was to oversee the delivery personally--not least because it afforded her the opportunity to view the trappings of Exodus' Empire first-hand. "Affirmative-Director-Shiri," the droid captain droned in reply. "Very well," she replied dismissively, tossing the datapad back his direction. "Inform Designer Vulkas that I will make contact once successful delivery has been made." With a rustle of velvet, she disappeared up the ramp of the Helios and shortly after, the Nubian craft slipped in among its brethren and blasted outsystem as effortlessly as a lightsaber might cut through nerf butter.

Lady Angelia, standing from her place at the table, proceeded to walk to stand beside the Shadow Spinner. A gentle bow of respect preceded her extended arm, leading the way forward. "If we can do nothing else for you at present, my lord, we will not keep you." A coy tug of a smile inched its way onto her face. "Should you need anything from us, you now know how to ask. In the meantime, we will continue serving the Order in the way we have been."

"Our line of droids, some of which you have doubtless encountered, have been the bedrock upon which we have built what amounts to a small economic empire here. A step short of monopoly, so as to avoid attracting unwanted government attention, we have done everything done by the rules, on the level." Well, almost everything. Barely noticeable, her eyes flicked upward in momentary self-satisfaction, the dying squeals of a handful of CEOs imbedded in her memory along with the crushing weight of self-inflicted agony when a competitor had been ruined by his scandalous misdeeds where she--wearing a dozen different faces--was concerned. Haphaestus may have forged the weapon of their might, but Angelia had sharpened the blade. "This has put us in a position of great influence here on Nubia, and elsewhere around the Core. At every opportunity, we have fed the tensions fattening between governments until now, and they are ripe for slaughter." Their NYX prototype, along with a half dozen other experiments, rose from the center of the long table in holographic relief. "We have also been developing several prototypes for use by those of like mind alone. This one," she gestured to NYX, "has an ability to detect large concentrations of Force energy, but especially the Dark Side. We expect to use it to determine the locations of sites of residual power that might feed the strength of those that wield darkness." The blue-white facsimiles disappeared as quickly as they had coagulated. "All of these things, and perhaps even a portion of our profits, we are prepared to contribute in the greatest quantities in which they might still go unseen." A shuddering alert from the small comm unit on Kitaara's wrist kneaded her skin, an annoyance to which she would not have paid any mind had the momentum accumulating between their interactions with the Dark Lord not been suddenly released from the room by the entrance of the great worm. A lingering, longsuffering distaste for the entire slimy race of inbred cretins eked into her throat like bile. She glanced at her wristlet and a flash of panic was followed quickly by smoldering rage. The fools. The fops. Strutting about twirling sabers like mating plumage on an open-air platform in the busiest city on Nubia? They'd bring the might of the planet's Imperial garrison crashing down upon Lemnos Industries like an ancient warhammer. "It appears your associates have not learned the meaning of subtlety, my Lord," she said with a quizzical glance at the Lord Exodus. He had brought the Hutt Lord, for whom her teacher carried no great regard, and as such would be held responsible for his retinue. It made little sense to her why the worm might permit his underlings to so reveal their presence to the authorities that would doubtless perceive them, and indeed, only increased her mistrust. WIth a pair of taps on her wrist unit, she activated Lemnos' security systems, summoning their home contingent of battle droids to the ready. Should the fools outside be detected by governmental authorities, they would have made an obvious attempt to repel an invasion by an aggressive Sith element. Lemnos was well-equipped to play innocent in such matters, Haphaestus and Angelia having discussed between them what might occur should the Imperials ever trace the Wookiee's death to their doorstep. The Twi'lek was fully prepared to zip her self-presentation into the neat little package of the diminutive Kitaara Shiri once more should the situation require it.

The shadow of an impish grin bloomed on Kitaara's cerulean features. Haphaestus did not entirely pull back the veil, but the words of the Dark Lord in her direction were akin to a challenge and an invitation, one that she would capitalize upon. Releasing the diminutive forward fold of her shoulders, she stood up to her full height, dangling the datapad at her side. The transformation was absolute, and no element of the cutesy, bookish secretary remained. Kitaara Shiri fell away like a discarded garment, and Lady Angelia stood in her place. Though touched by no hand, one of the intricately crafted chairs, approximately halfway down the lengthy table, slid several inches from its resting place as if welcoming her. Silent, catlike steps led her to her seat as the Dark Lord's words painted upon the canvas of her thoughts a ruling class for the galaxy in which she wished to take a prominent part. The effervescent tone of voice she had used with him on the landing pad was no longer in employ, the smoky subtlety of her true timbre billowing into the room. "I do not reveal my true name except to those worthy of its knowledge, and while I will seek continual learning from the Lord Haphaestus for the fullness of my days, I am no apprentice. I am Darth Angelia, and I am invisible." Her self-proclamation bore no trace of haughtiness, rather, she delivered such secrecy as an additional gift to the Dark Lord. Her effectiveness would be minimized should she be revealed to the galaxy, and her strength was in remaining hidden in plain sight. She had learned long ago: if in the galaxy's mind she would be a slave always, let them wallow in their ignorance. Eventually, she would master them all. "Tell me, my Lord: you say 'our kind', yet is this freedom you plan to enact upon the galaxy simply for those of your choosing, or do you offer it to all who are drawn to such strength and wisdom and demonstrate it?" Her words purred, but the question was wary. Haphaestus she trusted implicitly, but if what Exodus was saying was true, there were many others among his Sith Empire who were unworthy of such trust; ones who held tightly to outdated views that sowed division and sundered brethren. Many surreptitious machinations of the surrounding economic infrastructure, subtle movements by her own hand, had tilled the fallow ground for Lemnos' growth. A vast percentage of them had been possible initially because of the indifference she gathered inherently as a female non-human. Let the galaxy overlook her; she would not clamor for their recognition. No, she would advance to the top of the natural order along with her Sith brothers and sisters, using every advantage Haphaestus had purchased for her, and when they screamed her name in fear and reverence, she would make them pay for their disregard.

So it was as Haphaestus had predicted. The Dark Lord Exodus was known to him, and he to the Dark Lord. This boded well for the future of the conversation since the shadow games could cease and the variables were now exposed much more plainly. At least, most of the variables. Realizing that she herself was the unknown quantity in the room, a creeping sense of glee bubbled up within her, a curling smile splitting her amiable disposition. From the Dark Lord's curious glance, she assumed he had not overlooked her as a mere underling of the powerful Lord with whom he now treated. This did him credit: leaders who paid little attention to servants and underlings would find their headship abbreviated before too long. It would be another game now to examine the level of his discernment where she was concerned. Her graceful entry carried her across the length of the room. In a show of ready support, she stationed herself behind and to the right of Haphaestus' ornate chair. Datapad clutched in her hands, she looked in every way to be the unassuming secretary Kitaara Shiri, her wide and girlish eyes belying the deadly Lady Angelia underneath, by whose hand the great Wookiee fell. For now, however, she would refrain from comment, simply to observe the Dark Lord whose presence itself demanded her respect.

Before she felt him within the Force, she smelled him. What had amounted to a thousand years of torment in the wake of Hutt-slime stench left behind in eternal tunnels below the ground, stagnant air festering and strangling the optimistic glimmer of youth that may have remained, was not easily scrubbed from the slate of Kitaara's memory. The last time the stench had dared trouble her nostrils, she had achieved victory via the exsanguinated carcass of her first slave master, though he was not a Hutt himself, having made his abode on their burnished and worthless "Glorious Jewel". Nevertheless, there was an unmistakable aura of power that surrounded this particular Hutt, though focusing most of her efforts on dampening her own presence through the Force, she was unable to truly discern the nature of the beast that arrived before her. Haphaestus' message through the intercom served to confirm her suspicions: if this Hutt was a member of the Sith retinue, he would be admitted to such an audience as their guest of honor deemed fit. Then he spoke, invoking the title of the Dark Lord, lending additional credence to his arrival. The second pilot that landed, however, was obviously a spare who had no business at this meeting, and had been severely misdirected. Resolving that heads would roll downstairs after the meeting, she flashed a set of teeth brighter than starlight at the Hutt, demurely bowing her head in acquiescence. "Yes, of course. I am Kitaara Shiri, the head of public relations here at Lemnos Industries," she began, in the routinely rehearsed and utterly seamless presentation of her public persona. Owing to the effort she invested in dampening her signature in the Force, deeming it prudent to conceal her abilities for the time being, there was virtually no chance that the Hutt or any of his staffers would discern the truth of her identity as Darth Angelia. Turning to the tousle-headed human, a girl several years her junior, however, there was a wary glint in her eyes present in the most practiced of customer service personnel. A polite firmness entered her voice, and it became apparent that the presence of this extra, no matter how quickly she was adopted into the Hutt's rearguard--a strange turn of events, and awfully trusting for an unknown quantity--would no longer be tolerated. "I'm sorry, you were misled. If you would like, I can have one of the secretaries assist you with a list of referrals for companies better able to meet your needs. I would suggest starting with Nubian Star Drives in Nuba City," she offered, but as a third ship touched down, an exhilarating chill tickled her very bones. Utterly distracting in the form of exquisite darkness, it rendered the child she spoke to irrelevant in her entirety, and despite herself, Angelia gravitated toward its source. The newcomer, he who could have only been the Dark Lord by his gait and his tangible aura of power, did not address the Hutt, and yet seemed unperturbed by his presence. Dripping with lethality, poised like the most elegant of predatory felines, his approaching footsteps induced a phantasmagoria of dreadful ambition. Here, at last, she may have stumbled upon that which would offer her sufficient power to free her brethren from the shackles that bound them, to break the gates of unjust prisons with a fist made of darkmetal, to shatter the imbalances of the galaxy on her words alone. A new dimension, ethereal and enigmatic, taunted her, merely past her proverbial fingertips. The hazy peridot veil of the Dark Lord's eyes promised such knowledge. His words were filled with blackened puissance, a challenge mired in their depths that Kitaara would not dismiss unanswered. He called her by the name of her kindred, a fettered and oppressed people, and tucked within such careful application of language, she found a veiled insult, an insinuation that she, too, must then be fettered and oppressed. However, she would answer it in her own way, with the dignity afforded her by her teacher's instruction, not in some showy and juvenile display that mewled for attention like a Sullustan's hungry whelp. His name, that which had been whispered in holonet broadcasts, sprang immediately to mind, but there was no reason to trifle with formalities of which she already possessed knowledge. Her name would be the only one required here. "My Lord, would you truly have come all this way if our gift was disappointing?" she said enigmatically, with all the crisp professionalism of her carefully erected facade. "I do not wish to keep such an esteemed guest--and his friends--waiting. Please, follow me." Bowing her long-tailed head in respect, she gestured with an open palm toward the door behind her. Lithe footsteps so controlled as to be silent--even though the Twi'lek was wearing a terribly impractical pair of business shoes, the haute couture befitting someone of her position--evaporated in the vaulted ceilings of the ornate atrium. "I am Kitaara Shiri, public relations," she said as she arrived at the opposite end of the hallway and her palm depressed the security panel for the door, which acquiesced to the suggestion of her touch, "and this is our Head Designer, Vulkas. You may know him by a different name." As the panel gave way to the carefully crafted interior, walls etched with the same runes the Lord Exodus would have seen on his metallic Demons, the figure of Haphaestus came plainly into view.

Frowning at the display on her tightly clutched datapad, the Twi'lek, her presence still stifled through the Force, opened the intercom that connected her to Haphaestus. "We have two ships incoming, not only one. What do you make of this?" Alarm seemed as of yet unnecessary, but Angelia had long since learned that anything out of the ordinary was worth attention. Coincidence did not exist. If the Dark Lord saw fit to bring an accompanying retinue, they may yet find themselves needing to be on their guard.

Until word of the Dark Lord's arrival would make its way to the Lemnos Industries headquarters, Kitaara Shiri would pace relentlessly in the waiting. Usually reserved for VIPs arriving to receive demonstrations of their product, the private landing pad and its adjacent lobby were kept pristine, outfitted with every amenity in the most tasteful and elegant application. In this case, all of the usual staff had been given the day off, and the only other bodies in the room beside Kitaara's were the deadly shells of their militant creations. Like a gauntleted hallway adorned with suits of armor absent life, they stood resolute, flanking the path that led to the meeting hall in which Haphaestus lay in wait. While he had not opted to disguise his true nature to this Dark Lord, Kitaara herself had compressed her presence into the diminutive and copacetic Twi'lek brand ambassador, the public face of the company who was expected to be effervescent and sweet, excitable and emphatic. Her business attire was crisp, and she remained unarmed, opting to conceal her lightsaber within the meeting hall through the adjacent door. Her presence in the Force was hushed to a whisper, drawing herself in as small as she possibly could, employing every trick in her arsenal to appear as ordinary as a secretary. No test for the Dark Lord, it was instead simply a matter of protection. Kitaara's identity as Darth Angelia was one of the most precious secrets guarded amidst the halls of Lemnos Industries, and it would not do to reveal it to the wrong parties. Still she paced the length of the gilded lobby, a feral jungle animal electric with anticipation.