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Imperial Knights Falcons Nuance is a necessary aspect of rule, the flexibility of the blade is what prevents it from shattering upon impact. A falcon understands the need for give, that authority channeled, not controlled, can achieve results beyond expectation. In conversation, the subversion of authority and protocol garners respect from those that flaunt such things. In battle, the refusal to meet strength with strength allows the Falcon to flow around the defenses of their opponents. In matters of courtly decorum, the expectation of flaunting tradition allows for measured impropriety without consequence. Where the Paladin and Warden are loved for the offices that they are sworn to, the Falcon applies charisma on a personal level, cultivating an image of self akin to bravos and rogues. There remains a level of aloofness that distances the Falcon from attachment, but displays of humanity make them easier to approach and speak freely to in the minds of underlings and villeins. This casual demeanor allows them to better emulate the behaviors of their lessers and move undetected amongst the populace. Falcons are almost exclusively second born or further, with families heavily discouraging any first born heir from pursuing this path, as their duties and obligations demand the kinds of propriety and decorum that Falcons eschew. In some ways, the Falcon’s path is considered an outlet for the frustrations that manifest in scions that will not inherit crown or throne, consoling them with freedom in exchange for their acceptance that they will not inherit the height of the family’s power. Every Falcon must take a vow upon reaching the age of majority that will give at least some measure of focus and direction to their lives. Families often have preferred vows tied to the needs of their political and financial position, but rarely are such things absolutes. These are Falcons that we are talking about, after all. Falcons also must adhere to the Codes Gallant and the Articles of Nobility, as both combatants and members of the nobility. Vows Vow of Reclamation: The Falcon has been tasked with recovering heirlooms and objects of antiquity tied to their family’s history, or the acquisition of newly sought after pieces of art and prestige. While these Falcons are always encouraged to move through legal channels, in certain cases involving uncooperative collectors or the criminal elements, discreet action in the shadows does occur. Reclaimers can also be found working with archaeologists and treasure hunters to locate cultural relics. Vow of Obligation: When a noble family needs to represent itself on the battlefield, but the theater is deemed too risky or the more prominent members are needed elsewhere, Falcons under the Vow of Obligation are dispatched. These Imperial Knights undergo heavy martial training, and are expected to be current in their knowledge of battlefield tactics and technology, within reason. Functioning more as highly skilled and disciplined specialists than figureheads, many military commanders and units prefer an embedded Falcon over the trouble that comes with a major symbolic leader visiting. Vow of Binding: When a house or family wants to bring in members from outside of the aristocracy, they call upon Falcons who have undertaken this vow. These scions are trained to act as intermediaries between courtly life and how everyone else in the galaxy behaves, integrating outsiders and acting as an approachable guide to the sometimes incomprehensible expectations of aristocratic society. Most Falcons under this vow are dispatched to court individuals of particular interest, but they can also act in a supporting role if a proper heir has fallen for an outsider and cannot be swayed towards a more appropriate match. Vow of Consequence: When insults to the honor and nobility of the family are made, or challenges issued, it is the Falcons of the Vow of Consequence that respond with no quarter. Trained extensively in the use of fencing weapons so that they may duel aristocrats that lack the ability to use lightsabers, these Falcons are trained to be consummate duelists who bear the responsibility of defending the image of their families. These Imperial Knights have the least leeway in breaching etiquette, but are most likely to be considered as next in line should the original heir face an untimely demise. Furthermore, these dueling specialists are often tasked with hunting down and killing disgraced and villainous rogue Imperial Knights, given their specialization in facing elite opponents. Vow of Bravado: The concept of nobility is rooted in the belief that the most qualified and exceptional individuals who have received the best education and training that can be found. This notion must be reinforced from time to time with acts of daring and risk, and it is the thrill seeking Falcons of this vow that perform them. Big game hunting, high speed races, extreme competitive sports, and other dangerous pursuits are the meat and wine of these Imperial Knights, demonstrating the capability of their houses while not risking a chosen heir. Vow of Defiance: In times of uncertainty and potential revolt, a family may resort to the Vow of Defiance to assuage the fears and concerns of the populace. A Falcon who undertakes this vow acts as an advocate of the people as a means to co-opt insurrection rather than the nobility attempting to crush it with tyranny. Families are wary of Falcons who seek out this vow, instead preferring that scions who must be incentivized into taking it with promises of additional lands and titles at the close of the performance. Should order be restored, Falcons that took this vow are permitted to accept a declaration of duty fulfilled, and undertake a new vow. Vow of Vanquishment: The nobility is acutely aware of how important logistics and resources are to the pursuit of victory, and Falcons that undertake the Vow of Vanquishment are tasked with the recruiting and command of naval crews for the specific purpose of privateering actions against the enemy. These Imperial Knights carry letters of dispensation that allow them to conduct corsair operations against enemies of the state and any who would aid or harbor them. While considered indispensable assets, Vanquishers are the most likely vow to go rogue, and so houses go out of their way to ensure their loyalty as much as possible. Implements of Conflict Lightsaber: For many, the lightsaber is inseparable from the identity of Force users, and the Falcons are no exception. Notably, Falcons tend to employ crossguards, finger guard rings, extended emitters that serve as a ricasso, and ornamentation that befits their noble status. Families and houses often have blade colors associated with them on account of their crystals coming from specific mines on their lands. Using a lightsaber in an honor duel against an opponent with a blade that cannot withstand a lightsaber is considered disgraceful. Fencing blade: Forged to the highest standards by family artisans and often augmented through specialized alloys and augmentations like vibrating blades, fencing blades are the means by which Falcons are often called upon to defend the honor of their family or house. For the purpose of honor duels, Falcons train with these blades either alone or paired with a defensive implement such as a parrying blade or dueling glove. Parrying blade: A shorter blade meant to deflect melee attacks while leaving the main blade to attack independently. Generally made of lightsaber resistant material, but not particularly augmented to inflict damage on its own. Dueling glove: A glove or gauntlet made of lightsaber and cut resistant material used to bat away attacks while also allowing the hand to remain relatively free. Falcons are taught to not use a dueling glove to grab a blade for an extended period, as many opponents have a strength advantage over them, especially in regards to Sith Warriors, or sparring with Jedi Guardians. Dueling gloves work best against weightless blades like lightsabers or fencing blades, melee weapons that capitalize on mass are harder to redirect and more likely to smash through the glove’s protection. Quarterstaff/cane: Falcons often go to places where weapons are frowned upon or may escalate hostilities, and so they are often trained in the use of staves and canes. Many young falcons scoff at the use of a staff until their instructors put them in a medbay for a week with an elegantly savage beatdown. Unless a Falcon is going for low profile, staves and canes that they use are constructed with the same quality and artisanry as the rest of their gear. There are plenty of ways to enhance these weapons, but Falcons should be wary that with advanced weapon scanning this may defeat the purpose in some places. Falcons that favor masquerading as custodial staff are known for concealing staves as mop handles. Precision blaster: Falcons are under no limitations by ancient religious orders to not carry ranged weapons, and so they readily employ blasters, albeit in a limited and codified way. Falcons are expected to employ the same precision and control with a blaster as they do with a blade, and so their shots are always aimed and directed at a target. Using a blaster against a target without ranged ability is considered dishonorable. Slugthrowers are largely considered primitive and brutish, and disruptors are viewed as the tools of terrorists and sociopaths. Indiscriminate or wide dispersion weapons are equally frowned upon. Rifles and carbines are the means of line soldiers and not suitable for people of an Imperial Knight’s status. Heavy hunting blaster: Falcons of the Vow of Bravado often carry personalized blasters meant for taking down large game. These weapons are often wired into independent power units and pack a considerable amount of armor penetrating punch in exchange for a slower rate of fire. Otherwise, they are treated the same as precision blasters. Dueling armor: High quality armorweave with light plating on the chest and arms, along with a hardened helmet. Mobility is considered the first line of defense, but these suits make an adequate second line. Parrying shield: A smart energy shield that activates upon detecting imminent explosive or fragmentation impacts. The shield overloads quickly if kept on longer than a few seconds, and is meant to be deployed in short bursts against attacks that otherwise couldn’t be evaded or deflected, such as grenades or rockets. Anti-gravity rig/armor assisted movement system: Some Falcons integrate anti-gravity rigging into their armor to enhance their mobility and lend an air of etherealness to their movements. Or because anti-gravity is fun. Extremely experienced Falcons have the funds and capability to own and operate armor that uses microjets to take that mobility to the next level. Gambits, Obligations, and Principles Without the religious cult approach to Force powers, Falcons instead engage the Force with the philosophy of exceptionalism and noble obligation. They have these powers that elevate them above others, but they are obligated to use those powers to protect the people that they rule over. Falcons refer to instant and fleeting techniques as gambits, and passive applications of the Force as obligations, in reference to the constancy of their duty to the citizenry. Principles are powers that aren’t “always on”, but persist until the Imperial Knight ends them or use a different principle. Principles are too complex and draining to use more than one at a time. Principles of Grace: A suite of powers that focus on using telekinesis on the self to enhance advances, retreats, balance, and sidesteps. Falcons are taught to use these moves in short, controlled bursts, the purpose is to be unpredictable while also not overextending or exhausting oneself. Principles of Counteraction: A suite of powers that focus on using telekinesis on the self to empower defensive strikes meant to deflect attacks, guiding enemy strikes into thin air and pushing aside weapons to create openings. The powers do have their limits, especially against bulkier weapons being used by strength focused combatants. Principles of Precision: A suite of powers that focus on using telekinesis on the self to guide strikes towards joints and gaps in armor. Imperial Knights are honorbound to give opponents the chance to yield before delivering a killing blow, so this principle is always used to wound before being used to kill, and going straight for the kill is seen as a massive red flag for Dark Side corruption. Principles of Liberty: A suite of powers that focus on using telekinesis on the self in conjunction with Force Sense to read both body language and the flow of spiritual currents to dodge the sorcerous attacks of particularly mystical Sith. The Principles of Liberty are considerably more draining than the Principles of Grace, and practitioners must be careful to not exhaust themselves into a loss. Principles of Focus: The Falcon uses the Force to enhance their reflexes, reaction time, and combat awareness to a level that greatly increases their capabilities as a pilot or driver. Often used by Falcons under the vows of vanquishment or bravado. Cloak of Ignominy: Falcons often need to move unnoticed or into places where their kind are unwelcome. This obligation allows the Falcon to blend into crowds and appear like just another citizen. Adopting the guise of custodial staff or maintenance crews are common go tos. Crown of Virtue: The opposite use of Cloak of Ignominy, this obligation represents the Falcon broadcasting their majesty and sense of duty to both enhance their charisma and draw people to approach them about problems. This power is considered vital to fulfilling the noble obligation. Bravo’s Challenge: The Falcon ignites the Light around their form so that all eyes are drawn to them, drawing the focus of thugs and villains away from the defenseless and innocent. The Falcon needs to actually be in the area, no using this power through a video call, etc. Discernment: An obligation that Falcons use to enhance awareness, primarily in detecting threats, although Reclaimers and Binders use it to enhance their ability to appraise objects and read social cues, respectively. Falcons with this obligation have enhanced resistance to Sith illusionry. Authority: Essentially a Jedi mind trick, but more effective on people that are under the Falcon’s family’s rule, and less effective on those who are not. Outclassed: The Falcon attempts to flood the mind of their opponent with false tells and phantom movement in the periphery of their eyes. For Force users and opponents familiar with the speed and unpredictability of Falcons, the power inflames the imagination even deeper. Vigilance: The Falcon is considered to have 360 degree awareness within their immediate zone of control with the Force. Scrutinize: As long as the Falcon has line of sight, they can look at a location as if they have macrobinoculars. Deflecting Slash: A gambit that turns a slashing motion with blade or hand into a concussive wave meant to turn aside weapons and stagger opponents. Works more effectively on grunts than elite combatants. Chimeric Dance: The Falcon co-opts and channels push and pull attacks through the Force into their own momentum. Considered Response: The perception of time (but not time itself) is altered to give the Falcon more time to respond to sudden and unexpected events. Principles of Discipline: The Falcon uses the Force to act unfettered by fear or pain, relying on their years of training and muscle memory. This power does not remove fear or pain, it just allows the Falcon to act in spite of these things. Adaptive Momentum: The Falcon can use the Force to navigate treacherous paths and crowded streets with ease, getting to people in need or away from people that are trying to kill them. In layman's terms this power functions like Force assisted parkour. Principles of Daring: The Falcon uses the Force to overtly and powerfully enhance their movement, whether that’s expressed in Force Speed, Force Jump, or other expressions of Force enhanced movement. Often one of the first sets of principles that Falcons in training learn, it is an early go to for avoiding responsibilities and escaping courtly affairs. Principles of Mischief: The Falcon uses the Force to conceal their presence, commit acts of legerdemain, and open locked doors. These Principles are not taught by any court approved instructor, instead being passed on from Falcon to Falcon, often during family gatherings. Principles of Charm: The Falcon uses the Force to navigate even the most treacherous political waters. Embodying charisma, perfectly recalling names and details of acquaintances and associates, and moving with dreamlike poise, the Falcon excels at putting on a winning public face to balance any prior chaos that they may have caused. Rulers of a Thousand Tongues: This obligation allows the Imperial Knight to communicate with people using unknown languages using the Force, and Falcons often teach this power to Paladins and Wardens, but they pick it up far quicker. Disengaging Strike: The Falcon uses the Force in conjunction with a weapon attack or unarmed strike to fling themself back with great speed and momentum. Humble: When a situation calls for a loud and clear statement, the Falcon can quickly make an example that can’t be missed. The Falcon makes a definitive action, often a violent one, that everyone in the area is forced to notice and subconsciously reflect on. Falcons often use this power to make it clear to violent criminals and malcontents that their behavior will not be tolerated. Different: The Force allows the Falcon to plant the idea that despite being nobility, they are different from the arrogant and rules obsessed aristocracy. How true that is may vary, but this power will open doors with people that have a general distaste for hierarchies. Triumph of Virtue: The Falcon can imbue a weapon or object with the benevolence of the Force, allowing it to withstand attacks and strain that would otherwise destroy it. This can be done ritually for long term protection, or impromptu to create an improvised weapon, although the latter is more draining. Blossom of Aargau: Used most prominently by the more rakish or vampish of Falcons, this gambit was supposedly invented by a Falcon that fell in with a group of Falleen con artists who used their species’ pheromones to defraud the financially rich but morally bankrupt, the nouveau riche in particular. It’s as close to a Force powered “Come hither” as one can get without crossing moral lines, but some Falcons use it mid duel to cloud the minds of their opponents. Ghost Stories: A form of childhood mischief turned useful tool, Falcons often learn or are taught this gambit at a young age, after having it inflicted upon them by older siblings or cousins. This gambit manipulates EMF and infrasound to trick the mind into the sensation of being haunted, and combined with simple stimuli like a sudden loud noise or object moving through telekinesis, it can spook and distract an unwitting target. Sometimes the power is used to haze family members or to test the mettle of a young Falcon, but generally speaking extended use of the power outside of nights around the campfire telling stories is considered a traversal into the Dark Side. Avert Your Eyes: The Falcon conjures a burst of blinding light to daze, overwhelm, and divert the attacks of enemies. Style and Grace The following are sample dueling and combat styles, but should not be taken as the only forms of combat style that Falcons use, nor should their traits be taken as givens in a duel, players are still expected to validate outcomes with solid writing, and opponents still have final say on outcomes of attacks. Furthermore, this is not a best of list, and some of these options are included more for worldbuilding and character development rather than any kind of god tier dueling tactics. Core Regulations Competitive Fencing: The standard competitive sports version of fencing that nobles learn to compete in galactic tournaments. An approximation of a martial art, but it introduces solid fundamentals, is excellent for friendly sparring matches, and knowing its movements is key to predicting the patterns of most courtly opponents that don’t use traditional house styles. The style focuses on footwork, ripostes, and presenting as small of a target as possible to your opponent. Competitive fencing is performed in lanes, so practitioners of this style are less likely to think of strafing movements, but have exceptional close in skills against other fencers. This is a starting point for nearly all young Falcons, but one that they generally quickly move past. Mischief Unto Misfortune: A philosophy of combat shared amongst Falcons, this style, more casually referred to as simply “Mischief”, has the duelist using the environment to leverage mistakes out of opponents for them to capitalize on. The Falcon repeatedly draws their opponent into situations where excellent footwork and coordination are required, or where they must re-engage in less than favorable circumstances. This style is often also used to mitigate the advantages of a group of attackers by disrupting their ability to attack cohesively and allowing the Falcon to isolate individuals and pick them off. It is often referred to as holovid style for its flashy theatrics and similarities to stunt work. Clever Falcons will use this style to equalize duels against opponents with superior mastery of the blade. The Bastillietra Manual: A fencing manual that teaches a martial art focused on quickly and efficiently killing opponents while minimizing risk to the self. The style is observed to have an ebb and flow of momentum, combining measured retreats and lethal presses. It is not a style for use against a single skilled opponent, rather being a guide on how to self defense a large group of attackers unskilled in melee fighting to death. Carefully controlled thrusts are key to this style, and great importance is given to not getting your blade stuck in an opponent while other threats remain on the field. The Cor’Phalos Manual: Not only was the Marquis Cor’Phalos an exceptional fencer who took great pains to transcribe and codify his style, he was also a remorseless troll who took impish glee in the murder and shaming of rivals. Practitioners of this form of combat aren’t just fighting to secure martial victory, they are weaving in psychological attacks and social barbs to embarrass and emotionally ruin their opponents. They are, in short, styling on their opponents. Duels pursued in this manner are as much theatrical displays as they are measures of martial skill, and often involve non lethal attacks meant to taunt opponents into making mistakes and biting commentary meant to goad and rile up the opponent, preferably in front of an audience. These duels do not always end in death, and Cor’Phalos was known to intentionally leave opponents alive to force them to live with their shame. In one particularly well documented incident, the Marquis used a dinner fork to feed a particularly rotund noble who had commented on the figure of the Marquis’s companion his own eyes. The Marquis garnered a reputation as an oddly moralistic sociopath who readily visited violence on anyone who insulted his companions, his sensibilities, or his taste in theater. It was mostly other nobles who suffered the brunt of his wrath, as he dismissed most missteps of the lower classes as a symptom of not knowing better, and only drew his blade for the most egregious behavior on their behalf. Despite making hundreds of powerful enemies, the Marquis died of old age surrounded by the people he had so fiercely protected, despite many, many attempts to prematurely end his life. Falcons of the vows of consequence and defiance regularly make use of this style to make examples of their opponents. Jedi who observe the style have voiced concerns that it very closely resembles the use of Dun Möch, but never within earshot of its practitioners. Even so, Falcons who become too enamored with the style are watched carefully for corruption. The Vastira Manual: Written by one of the most esteemed and sought after fencing instructors to have ever lived, the Vastira manual is not as much focused on the pursuit of victory as it is in training other duelists through nuanced observation and probing strikes. While many Falcons that do study the manual use it for its intended purpose, there has been a growing number of them that have started using the teachings to instead push a dialogue with fallen nobles and Sith with the aim of redemption. When used in this manner the duelist focuses on defensive movements meant to frame aggression as ineffective, while attempting to reach whatever humanity remains in the opponent. If the opponent reveals themself as truly damned, the Falcon generally has at that point gained enough insight into their style to deliver a quick mercy kill. The Ghendrivhar Treatise: An extensive look at the application of fencing principles to lightsaber combat. Given that its intended audience has access to less lethal means to settle disputes and matters of honor, the text is concerned solely with pursuit of lethal triumph over threats. It also heavily interweaves the use of Force powers to achieve its techniques, based off of the assumption that anyone using a lightsaber based style has access to the Force. The primary points of leverage that the treatise focuses on are the weightlessness of the lightsaber blade, the independence of its cutting power from strength or momentum, and the divorce of its ability to cut from the physics of a physical blade’s edge. The treatise focuses on efficient movements and drawing out overcompensated strikes from opponents to create openings that the duelist can exploit. There are no sweeping blows or grand overhead slashes in this martial art, only refined pointwork and calculated strikes. The economy of movement means that practitioners of the style will often outlast their opponents, both in individual duels and in terms of extended battlefield engagements. In fact, exhausting the opponent is a heavily encouraged tactic for responding to highly aggressive strength based fighters. The Nixtalla Codices: A collection of martial arts manuals that were falsely claimed to be ancient texts of a long lost warrior order, however in spite of the attempted con, the books are popular among Falcons who enjoy indulging in theatricality but lack the sadism needed to follow in the footsteps of the Marquis. There are multiple theories of who the true author of the books is, and each theory carries with it a variation of the style. At this point, making cases for who wrote the texts is a common pastime for historians, university students, fencing enthusiasts, and holonet programs alike. The first theory is that the codices are the work of the court jester Vellinia Forkes, in what was meant to be an elaborate but good natured joke on her Duke who was rather fond of collecting various works on fencing without necessarily scrutinizing their provenance. Proponents claim that knowledge of the text spread farther than intended, and the realization that several prominent families had been misled and would likely be out for blood convinced Forkes that denying any connection to the scheme might be her only chance for survival. Forkesian interpretations of the texts focus on the use of the style as a de-escalating tactic, as the style is notably playful and bombastic in a way that might be considered critical of the practice of lethal duels in general. In application, the Forkesian method is used by Falcons in challenges that have arisen out of fleeting passion or the necessities of politics that Falcon is disinclined to resolve with murder. Forkes was known for her ability to talk her way out of situations, and this style can very easily be interpreted as the fencing equivalent of “Bro, chill!”. The second theory is that the codices were actually secret love letters between two master fencers of rival families, who hid their flirtations in the elegance and grace of a dance of blades. The circumstantial evidence for this comes from the reading of the texts as being penned by multiple authors, and the sometimes rather sensually charged phrasing of the text. A holovid based on this theory was released to great critical acclaim, but its distribution is currently in legal limbo on account of both of the families named in the script suing for slander and defamation. The “Lovers theory” reads the text as a sensualist take on fencing, celebrating the joy and artistry of it all and channeling passion into an artform often associated with discipline and control. The perceived “sloppiness” of this variation makes it harder for practiced opponents to read, and the joyful expression is claimed to offer a measure of protection against negative mental attacks. If this theory is true, then the identity of who distributed the texts remains unknown. The third theory ties the books to a notorious ring of falleen rakes and coquettes who were infamous for their scamming of the ultra rich, particularly people of wealth who came from outside of the circles of nobility and refused to conform to those cultural expectations. They were already known for their scandalous endeavors when the codices were “found”, they had a history of using sex as a weapon and means of subversion, and there are accounts of various members of the group claiming authorship. Libertine theory interpretations focus on the use of passion as a tool to undermine an opponent, and to dissuade attacks through seduction. The fourth theory is that the codices are in actuality guides for theatrical stage fighting, written in the form of actual fencing manuals as a lark. The practically winking at the audience approach to killing blows would be detrimental to a degree that contradicts the understanding displayed by the rest of the text, and makes more sense for death scenes than actual duels. This theory doesn’t particularly have a useful application for the read, Falcons think that Mischief does it better, and if someone wants to flip around all over the place then they can do Ataru like a Jedi. The fifth theory is a more sinister twist on the Forkesian theory, suggesting that the Duke had a rival that was both a competing collector and sleeping with the Duchess, and that the codices were bait for an assassination attempt. In this version, the Duke’s copy of the codices is stolen, only for his rival to die of mysterious causes, and gossip of the codices being the work of Forkes conveniently precedes an attempted assassination on the jester that instead claims the life of the Duchess. It’s indisputable that the Duke and Forkes became romantically involved after the death of the Duchess, but whether their relationship was born from a double homicide remains unknown. This interpretation, commonly referred to as the murder theory, is treated more as a reminder of the darker underside of court life, and the power of misdirection. A student of this lesson most likely poisoned their opponent before the duel even began, or ensured their deployment to a distant and ruthless battlefield. Observations of Warfare in the Ysarvian Reach: Dame Ursinia Cawell was never a particularly charismatic or roguish Falcon, but she was born behind several older siblings, and the likelihood of inheritance was miniscule for her, so instead she was “encouraged” to become a Falcon and undertake the Vow of Obligation. Shortly thereafter she was shipped off to a distant battlefield to either find her fortunes in glory or to fill an unmarked grave. Cawell kept a journal during her time at war, and while it is by all accounts a dry and at times overly meticulous account of warfare, it is also a frank and unfiltered look at warfare and how to survive it as a noble. It emphasizes the need to discard courtly expectations and to routinely drill with the implements of total war, such as the blaster, rather than expecting the enemy to conform to your expectations. Observations is considered required reading for any Falcon undertaking the Vow of Obligation, and at this point is the Cawell family’s greatest claim to fame, a fact that irks them to no end. Followers of the book’s accounts put considerable work into pistol marksmanship, tone down the flamboyance of their outfits to avoid the notice of snipers, and develop something resembling a passable rapport with the line officers and soldiers. The finer points of socializing eluded Cawell, but her trial and error attempts at fitting in and obsessive focus on detail in regards to her tasks makes the knowledge in Observations comprehensible for anyone, even if they want to bang their head against a wall while reading it. The Nature of Predators, Memoirs of Master Hunter Castra Sinchler: Despite the accusations of heavy embellishment of Sinchler’s exploits outside of the hunt, The Nature of Predators presents a detailed look at big game hunting, emphasizing the importance of understanding all aspects of what you are hunting, knowledge of the terrain, the importance of staying calm and collected while in mortal danger, and how to beat a hangover while tracking a Kiltik beetle to the nest while also explaining to your Cathar guide that there’s no way that you could be the father. While Sinchler’s fieldcraft is exceptional, and his hunting exploits are both impressive and thrillingly told, the most popular part of the book is a confrontation between the hunter and a near feral Sith Lord driven to madness in the outer rim. Sinchler strongly believed in looking a beast in the eyes before killing it, and like most Falcons eschewed the use of a hunting rifle for a heavy blaster pistol. Charitable Stranger: A style of stave fighting discreetly passed between Falcons, who publicly present themselves above staff weapons, but often make use of them when acting covertly or slumming it with the lower class. Despite the simplicity of staves, Falcons imbue the use of such weapons with a stunning grace and flow that allows them to truly elevate the weapons through the artistry with which they use them. Charitable Stranger foregoes courtly restraint in exchange for extensive flourishes and broad, twirling swings, and is excellent at “dissuading” large groups of ruffians. Privileges and Accouterments Despite the distance that many families hold Falcons at, they are still in the end, nobility. As such they still have access to the trappings of wealth and status, and perhaps can indulge in them more freely due to the roguish personas that they cultivate. Palaces, Mansions, and Penthouses: While the Paladins and Wardens may emphasize leading more austere lives, Falcons are in many ways encouraged to live loudly. And they certainly stand out in stark contrast to the Jedi, who often forego material trappings. While the truly massive residences are often shared amongst the family, Falcons often own private mansions, space yachts, penthouses, and other estates secreted away from the public eye. Valets, Staff, and Courtiers: Falcons, like most nobles, tend to have assistants and servants on hand to handle mundane details, and to insulate them from people. Even Falcons have their exposure to people outside of the nobility carefully limited and manipulated, to prevent dilution of aristocratic culture and the fomentation of the philosophies of the masses. Falcons tend to be… particular about handpicking their staff, their ability to read people allowing them to see virtues and failings that others can’t. As such, those that pass muster are generally treated well and trusted as confidantes. Fame: Falcons carry with them an aura of celebrity that opens doors that are closed tightly with others. People go out of their way to please them, any place that has a VIP list either has their name on it or will in short order, and dinner with A-list celebrities are just a comm call away. Connections: On the other hand, Falcons also maintain black books of courtesans, high stake gamblers, errant socialites, black market dealers, and disgraced nobles that serve as sources of information, power brokers, and the providers of introductions. Or sometimes just as fun diversions. Top of the Line: Whether it’s weapons, armor, or conveyances, Falcons have the credits to obtain the very best on, or oftentimes even off, the market. Generally Falcons focus primarily on the implements associated with their interests and vow, but even tertiary gear is of above average quality. Diplomatic Immunity: Obviously Falcons can’t commit crime without restraint, and they certainly don’t want to draw the attention of the Paladins, but their status does buy them a degree of protection from the law. Errata and Esoterica Harlequins: Sometimes Falcons will find Force sensitives in their travels that possess exceptional character in spite of their ignoble origins, and will offer to train them. Referred to as Harlequins, they occupy an even more grey area than the Falcons in regards to noble propriety, but they come by their place honestly, and smaller noble houses will often seek them out to try and secure future Force sensitive heirs. Purifiers: It’s no secret that many human noble families and houses ascended into prominence thanks to the crusades of the Pius Dea, and some of them continue to secretly follow the cult’s teachings to this day. Purifiers are sanctified zealots that are tasked with culling and opposing the presence of alien influences, particularly in regards to species considered to be immoral like the Hutts. Purifiers claim that their duty exposes them to the taint of unclean creatures that causes them to eventually be overwhelmed and fall, but to any outsider it’s clear that their dogma is an express lane to the Dark Side. Purifiers pursue their genocidal and xenophobic agendas in secret, not wanting to draw the ire of the more liberal elements of the Remnant or Alliance. Provost Tutors: Falcons that tire of the political games of their position or develop an overwhelming passion for the art of fencing can renounce their noble claims and become a Provost Tutor, an instructor dedicated to passing along their knowledge of fencing to the next generation. Provost Tutors are held in high regard despite their reduced status, and are some of the only house staff that can discipline tantruming heirs without fear of consequence. Provost Tutors don’t seek out conflict, that’s not their path in life anymore, but should a threat come to them or their charges, death will follow shortly after. Eyes of Judgment: A secret society that acts as an unofficial inquisition within the Imperial Remnant, tirelessly hunting down both Dark Side apostates and nobles with sympathies for the Sith. They prefer to carry out their assassinations under the guise of accidents or consequences of the lethal churn of court politics, and a great deal of thought is given to spacing out attacks so that their secrecy is maintained. First and foremost though, the Eyes are an intelligence gathering operation, as great care is taken to ascertain the loyalties and innocence of potential targets before action is taken. Mist Sirens: In the Hapes cluster, a number of women introduced to the teachings and philosophies of the Falcons banded together to form a privateering fleet to escape the ruthless politics of their people. Mist Sirens value personal freedom above all else, and tend to raid oppressive governments to fund their operations. Tyrants of Korgotu: A conspiracy of nobles that have embraced the Dark Side but reject the teachings of the Sith, instead focusing on material power and wealth. Their practitioners maintain many of the trappings of court life, making them in many ways a dark reflection of the Falcons, although the Tyrants have a deep love for illusionry and mind control. The relationship between the nobles of the Imperial Remnant and the Tyrants of Korgotu is complicated, and not necessarily a kill on sight affair. Many nobles see the Tyrants as just another collection of noble houses, or argue that their bloodlines can be redeemed with proper guidance. Others consider them a trashy hot mess, but in the fun kind of way. And no noble can say that in their heart of hearts they haven’t wondered what it would be like to rule with absolute power. The Tyrants often swoop in to recruit fallen Imperial Knights, and many times the response is a shrug and something about “Better than them becoming a Sith”. It’s an uncomfortably toxic relationship that often leads Imperial Knights astray, but also occasionally pulls someone back into the light.

The 10,000 souls unleashed by the necromancer screamed through the corridors, dragging the echoes that had haunted Inmortos along with them in their inexorable current. They sought life and bodies to inhabit, but found none. Slowly, like a comet caught in the gravity well of a black hole, they drew closer and closer to the epicenter of the nexus with each pass, where Cthon gathered to defend their profane sanctum. The touch of the eldritch entity that manifested through Solus fed its own foulness into the current, an otherwordly parasite that writhed with an essence all its own. And the sweetest and oldest meat of all was given by Akheron. Battle. Slaughter. Wrath. The weak perished before the strong, and the Dark Side swelled with power. The lightning dancing along the encased figure's fingertips exploded. The entire vaguely humanoid protrusion became a silhouette of crackling, pure light and power. Blue-white bolts of destructive energy shot out and carved long, smoking burn marks along the walls of the ancient warehouse. The Cthon too slow or unlucky were caught in their path and charred in an instant to blackened meat, their shrieks of agony only lasting an instant, but feeding the tumultuous, growing tempest. And yet, it wasn't enough. The air rippled, and the ground quavered, but the tiny, flickering spark of life inside the makeshift statue did not catch fire. Centuries upon centuries of cold, starving isolation had left it weak. Though it had held its grip, it could not bring itself back even with this torrent of power surrounding it. It was a miracle it held out at all. The souls unleashed from the dagger howled as they entered the chamber, drawn by the pull and gravity of the reaction taking place in the Cthon's crude temple. Bones left from thousands of victims, piled up around the center "statue" and outside the warehouse, jerked and leapt as the souls sought in vain for a viable host. Then they found one. With a single will and desperate need, the souls rushed into the mass of carbonite at the figure's feet. A moment of silence passed. Then the carbonite on the floor shattered, and a single figure stood up as if held aloft by puppet strings. It wore the simple brown robes of a Jedi. Its flesh was pale but preserved, both by the carbonite and as a side effect of the foul power that had been concentrated here. The souls had found a host. They had found the Jedi that had sacrificed his life to trap the darkness he had fought here so long ago. No single soul was in control. Only their overwhelming fear, anger, and hate made it to the surface, and the corpse revenant leapt at the cowering, utterly confused Cthon. Terrible, supernatural strength tore them limb from limb even as they scrambled to fight back or flee. Inside the corpse, 10,000 souls screamed and tore at one another for control. It was a brutal, mindless conflict, and it swelled the tempest of the Dark Side to an armageddon. The shaking became a true quake. Miles away, half-reconstructed skyscrapers quivered, dust cascading off their sides, followed by windows shattering all along their heights, raining shards down on the lower levels. Children cried as the adults panicked. And the Cthon tunnels collapsed. All throughout, the floors, ceilings, and walls gave way. Cthon cried out as they were crushed or sent tumbling into sudden widening chasms. Chambers, pipes, and girders that had held for millennia crumbled and buckled as the inexorable force of the Dark Side destroyed everything. Even as everything tumbled down on top of everything else, the crater itself deepened, and widened. Slowly, it changed from a crater to a sinkhole. And yet, the tomb that was the epicenter remained intact. Debris shifted mid fall to avoid crushing the shrine. Metal, cables, and permacrete compacted themselves against the sides of the massive sinkhole. Soon, where the crater had been , a massive hole stood in its place. And at the bottom, facing the sky for the first time in thousand years, the warehouse stood completely uncovered. And there, in the still aftermath of the collapse, a single, pale blue dot fell through the air. The dagger containing Inmortos' soul dropped towards the warehouse, drawn like a compass's needle to north. The roof of the warehouse crumbled away as if to admit it, and the dagger fell through. With a resounding TING, it struck the lightning wrapped figure at the center of the chamber. For the briefest instant, the two souls touched. And the spark caught fire. A hairline crack ran down the figure's form. Then more split off. Then more. A piece of carbonite fell away. Then another, and another. Then the carbonite exploded outward. In its place, a single, feminine figure stood tall. She was human, with only her pointed ears hinting at some alien heritage somewhere far back in her bloodline. Her skin was pale, and served to make the dark, Sith tattoos running down the sides of her face more prominent. Her hair was bone white. Her body was neither young nor old, but something in between and timeless. The long black silk of a dress, perfectly preserved by the carbonite, hung off her slender frame. For a moment, there was only silence. Then, the figure took a long, shaky breath. Her eyes opened. They shone catlike yellow with the stark evidence of Dark Side corruption. Her hibernation had left her temporarily blind to the mundane, but that didn't impede her in the slightest. She saw through the Force. She saw the Cthon, their squirming, half-animalistic souls cowering in the face of greater power. She saw the corpse of her Jedi enemy, somehow reanimated with the souls of 10,000 screaming victims fighting for control. And then she saw the dagger. It glowed pale blue to her Force Sight. She recognized instantly what she was looking at. It was a Sith. A true Sith. This soul bore the ambition and pride to stretch its hands towards the universe and demand it fall in line. Passion. It had the will and tenacity to hold itself together even in its imprisoned form. Strength. It radiated a cold, sapping energy that threatened death to any who touched it. Power. This was not one of Kaan's syncophants. In truth, the woman had doubted she'd ever find a kindred soul while that fool had called himself and his followers Sith. The woman walked towards the dagger. Bones skittered away from her, muck slid out from under her feet instead of touching her shoes, and a durasteel girder that had been lodged in the floor for centuries squealed in protest as it bent in half to remove itself from her path. She did not gesture or even glance at these small, telekinetic gestures. She was barely conscious of them, having become so attuned to her strength in the Force that it responded to her whims as she allowed it to. She stopped in front of the dagger, and it lifted into the air at her command. "You are Sith," she said in a smooth voice. Her eyes flicked to the corpse of the Jedi, the 10,000 souls inside still struggling even as the body stood stunned. "...Prove it." She made a tiny gesture with her right index finger, and the dagger shot like a slug from a rifle into the Jedi corpse's chest, knocking it to the ground. The soul of Inmortos was pushed into the fray of 10,000 souls fighting for dominance. If he was Sith, he would have Victory.

Wait, did he just call that droid BoomBox? That was the only thought I had time for before the sound of clanking metal accompanied me flying through the air to smash against the rear wall. As it turns out, the combat predictive algorithms of ocular cybernetics are a bit stumped when it comes to FREAKING GONK DROIDS laying out a surprise arsenal. Go figure. While the repulsors kept me pinned against the wall, a past job surprisingly popped into my head. It had been a simple job to arrest a devaronian weasel who'd managed to con over 500 people out of their life savings with a ridiculous cruise opportunity, and had had the misfortune of his latest victim being the son of a muun banking administrator. It should have been a simple grab and go, but the little imp had somehow gotten his hands on two actual B2 super battle droids. Me, unaware of this fact, had found myself pinned down by automatic blaster fire on a hotel balcony while my payday scurried towards the turbolift. This gonk droid thing's boxy waddle and overkill arsenal reminded my so much of that sticky situation, that an idea immediately occurred to me. You see, big and nasty droids like this often have the same weakness. A blind spot if you will. Using the force of the repulsor and my strong, cybernetic limbs, I crabwalked up the wall and leapt away as soon as I was out of the repulsor field's area of effect, landing feet first on top of this "BoomBox". You see, overbuilt, boxy droids like these often have a very hard time looking up. Guess there are some disadvantages to not having a neck. I almost...almost...punched through the things metal plated top, but thought twice about it when I remembered I was literally standing on a power generator. Well, this thing didn't have arms, so... I jumped off, kicking with my feet to knock the thing off balance and onto its side. As I landed, I turned and looked at the jawa. "YOU!" I shouted, both in frustration and exhilaration. "I NEED TO TALK TO YOU!"

Akheron continued to press forwards, cutting through the remaining Cthon with ease. Those who acted in a futile effort to try and impede the path of the Sith Warrior who stood before them, Cthon who did not fully understand the magnitude of the threat they faced or simply acted on some primal instinct. Each was made a sacrifice to the Darkness and the Fanged God, souls claimed as Akheron sliced and impaled his way onwards. Determined to reach his goal, no matter the cost. As he finished the last of the current threat, he marched forwards even further before stopping just short of the tunnel up ahead, his senses ringing out signalling danger was imminent. Sensing out in the Force, he felt several in wait up ahead lying in wait...those who thought they could hide from his gaze, the threat warned of, waiting for him he assumed, but he was not so easily fooled. Deciding to spring the trap, he switched techniques, focusing upon the very cables that suspended the plate and telekinetically forcing the plate to drop prematurely, along with several of the Cthon. Gripping them he swung the electrified cables into the Cthon, hoping to eletrify them instead of him as he quickly advanced after. Any that were not fried outright, he would cut down with his lightsaber. Moving towards the Cthon, he gestured, taunting the foolish towards a early grave as he would end their lives, more victims who's souls would be claimed. It was then he felt the Darkness shift, as Inmortos presence seemed to disappear. And yet he was not worried, for he had seen the necromancer's abilities at work. His power was not to be underestimated, despite his disappearance. And yet despite not being too worried, he was angered that he had been taken. The Cthon would pay for it with many lives. As his Rage, Anger and Wrath increased exponentially as a result, Akheron struck any too close or nearby with a ruthless determination, unrelenting and and seeking Vengeance. All would pay for the transgression, for as a Sith retribution was demanded. Soon and he came across a crossroads, a interconnecting path. It was here he felt a familiar presence, and saw him. Solus. Although he was surprised by how he looked, his presence could not be hidden from Akheron. He knew his apprentice in the Darkness. Akheron surmised perhaps this was how he was perceived in the Force, at least how his aura looked to others given physical form as a result of where they were. It was interesting and something to discuss after. For now he ran to his apprentice and spoke, even as those not dead tried following behind him. Cthon's that were soon to meet their fate. "Ah there you are my apprentice. It appears this nexus of Darkness is stronger than any we have encountered thus far, so much so that it seems we may have lost Krath Inmortos...at least for now and done this..whatever illusion it is to you. As such stay on your guard, any of these critters get too close, add their souls to the Darkness and feed the Fanged God. We shall make them pay for what they have done and avenge our fallen ally. Let's show these useless scum what happens when they dare to test the Sith. I sense we are getting close to our objective."

Inmortos’ bones shook as he was lambasted by the unfettered power of the apparitions made real. He felt the heat of the hellfire as it erupted all around him replacing the tomb within which they were confronted. The chill that had come to inhabit the necromancer’s bones was replaced as heat and fire licked at his form, igniting his robes into a blistering inferno all about him. His rotting flesh crackled and sparked as globules of fat burst and boiled over. His flesh began to cook and sizzle beneath the assault. In it all, through the pain and flame, the dark magician recoiled in fear. The apparitions swarmed him with the echoes of a thousand of his own memories and a million memories of those condemned to this place. He could not resist as the dark power sought to overwhelm him. He saw the faces of all who had fallen by his hand and deed, faces he did not even know or had forgotten, the countless worshipers of Aaris III, those who had stood against him in futility; they were all there and the echoes of their lives and deaths clawed at the flaming Lich’s very soul seeking to drag it into the depths. And then the voices came. From every direction they came. Their voices assaulted what remained of his devastated ears, their messages reverberating not just within his ears to hear but within his heart, his mind, his soul. They screamed and tormented him beyond the touch of the flames and visages of destruction. They tapped his very core in a different way playing off his deepest fears. He would be forgotten. He would be destroyed. He would die, an eternal death consumed by flames. He was too weak. He would not survive. The voices declared it and in the darkest most twisted aspects of evil, they spoke the truth, a cruelty far worse than any lie. Destroy the dagger, the voices commanded it. Inmortos saw the blade in his hand, felt it clutched within his heat-seared bones. The dagger. The force. One was before him. The other all around him burning in chaotic despair. His body was rapidly failing him, an undead husk unable to heal, baked to a crisp in this illusionary field of wickedness. Inmortos felt the pain, the suffering, as his own demise crested the horizon. The dagger. He felt it, cool in his hand. A vestigial connection to beyond the all consuming destruction that was overtaking him. Aaris III. The Baptism of Blood. The souls of @Karys Narat iv-Adas and @Solus . He felt them all, bound in some form to the dagger. The dagger the voices screeched to destroy. The 10,000 souls of sacrificial innocents lying within craving release, hopeless in their imprisonment. It was enough. Inmortos knew he would die, his mortal form already being consumed by the dark side energies that manifested about him. The cool abyss of Aaris III, the still darkness of the force torn asunder by the trio of dark practitioners, absolute in it’s destruction, absolute in it’s deathly calm. It was enough. The dagger. Inmortos screamed in pain. His voice was drowned out by the roar of the flames and screams of the shadows of the damned. In agony, he clasped the hilt of the blade in both hands before his melting face wreathed in flame. Summoning his last stores of strength, the strength of the undead, untapped by mortal hands, Inmortos plunged the dagger into his own chest. Ribs snapped and baked flesh parted as the piercing accursed weapon pierced his heart, his very soul. Blood and ichor poured forth freely, ignited by the dark fired. It was a final act of defiance as the souls within the blade found a conduit of escape. Like a charging horde they were loosed unto the mortal world, the illusionary bindings of the force broken by their charge. Thundering forth they pierced the flames and entered the darkness beyond seeking out 10,000 crushed bodies of Coruscant’s damned to overcome, to possess, to bring back unto a pained half-life unbridled by the shackles of life and unhindered by the barrier of death; for they had transcended it. In the vacuum that these souls left, Inmortos stood in the gap, his very soul the siphon which they shred upon their escape. The howling ethereal winds of the blade allowed for no escape. A soul must be contained, a life for a life, a soul for a soul. Inmortos tattered form vanished in an instant; his body erupting into a final burst of flames before he dissipated entirely into the dark. In that moment, the illusions were gone, the ravaged assault of the force ceased on the now vacant form lf the necromancer. The scorched cloak fell to the floor amidst the clatter of Inmortos’ fire seared possessions. The smoke that wafted upwards from the heat all that remained to the testament of destruction. Stabbed through the robe, into the stoney walkway beneath it, the dagger that had once contained the souls of 10,000 innocents stood straight, quivering as an icy chill exuded from it, daring anyone to touch it’s cold-welding hilt. Elsewhere, throughout the catacombs of destruction, the horde of souls raced, ravaging whatever might be in their path, seeking suitable bodies which to inhabit. They found none. So their anger grew, becoming more and more palpable as they sought the living, to destroy them, to take their bodies as their own.

The battle, if you could call it that, turned sour faster than milk under Tattooine’s hot suns. The furious blows of Shard turned into frantic deflections and blockings. There was no style in the Shard’s form. No etiquette. No technique. Just instinct and emotion, and hardly anything of substance. Solus’ own emotions were palpable under the woman’s words. As strange as she was, her presence carried power over the Shard. He did not know her, but he knew of her. He did not recognise her, nor understand her being. But he knew her, in the only way that an abhorrent descendant knew their twisted ancestor. Finally, the woman’s words struck at the Shard’s inner fear. Failure. He had failed too many times to be anything more than what he was. He had failed over and over in his time since his ascension. He didn’t kill Tear. He tamed the demented hound, dooming it to a life of servitude. He had not navigated the Naboo Abyss properly. He had been swallowed by it’s passageways of darkness and danger. He had not killed a single Jedi on Nar Shaddaa, nor even a single foe. He had been slain by the enemy of his fearless deity. This life, he had so proudly declared, was nothing more than failure, and this being knew it, even as she drove her blade in for the killing strike. It was this moment, in cold realization and terror as the woman’s blade stabbed the robotic heart that held the chassis, that Immortos’ power from the Baptism of Blood touched the Shard once more. The moment of the Aaris III returned in full force. In that time on Aaris, Solus had become something else briefly. A beacon for something incomprehensible and foreign by all senses known to mortals and deities alike. For things that In the vast stretches of space dwelled. Things that were aeonian and exotic. It was these unnameable things and horrors, in this moment of madness and terror, that rushed into the Shard’s moment of weakness. The lightsaber that plunged into the Shard was shot back. Following it, an eruption of flesh blasted outwards. Fat, veiny, pulsating flesh of unknown monsters, churning with gristle and bone flooded at the apparition of the woman, and everything around the Shard. It mattered not where it came from. The Force, and all of its dark intricacies, did not care for the laws of physics or conservation in this world of the esoteric and the arcane. What mattered was the willpower of those who, as Lord Roshan had said, ‘were conduits of the Force’. This flood of meat and gristle, did not slow as it consumed the dark apparition. It flooded the entire area. The entire area, nothing more then the dark side trying to consume something alive, was subjective to the devouring nature of this meaty storm. The dark side would feed on the dark side, like a hunting parasite would feed on a dying predator. Even if only in turn the nameless horror that consumed Solus’ soul would feed the darkness that dwelled in this place. It was fueled by the Shard’s rush of emotions, and its envy was still its strongest one yet. Envy desired what others had. It desired what it could not have, and would destroy it. This thing used a mask of flesh. And so, a flesh mask for the Shard would be fitting. In the flood, the meat returned to its source, coating and forming over the Shard’s chassis. Though nothing more than illusionary, it sought to give Solus something it lacked. Skin flayed itself, revealing blood and tissue, which in turn boiled and burned itself to a hardened, thin layer of scab-like skin. It was nothing more then an illusion at its crudest. It provided nothing more then a cosmetic change in appearance But even the appearance of fat occasionally bubbling with invisible heat, and tendons throbbing with black blood, spoke levels of terror to those who saw it. Solus, back in his original form, but now with that illusionary covering of false meat, looked around in shock. The nameless horror he had just witnessed refused to cling to his soul completely. Much like a waking nightmare, it seemed to escape his memory. Only the feeling, and the knowledge that it had existed, still remained. Having defeated the apparition, Solus moved forward through the dark tunnels. The sounds of battle were ringing out somewhere. Blade still in hand, Solus rushed forward.