Korriban

[Kitaara Shiri]

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?"

[Kitaara Shiri]

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.

[Kitaara Shiri]

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.

[Kitaara Shiri]

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."

[Kitaara Shiri]

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."

[Kitaara Shiri]

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?

[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.