Nubia

[Raynuk Montar]

An encoded message arrives, marked for both the Dark Lord Exodus, as well as the gluttonous Krath Master Sheog

 

 

Brothers...

 

I have just departed from a rendevous with my former apprentice, Emily Skywalker. Though she no longer calls herself Sith, I owed it to her to check up on her following her disappearance. What were once suspicions I can now confirm as facts;

the Cult of Morthos struck at her over Coruscant, destroying her ship and information she had gathered against them, and then kidnapped her. I still do not know if their intentions were to draw me out for capture as well, but regardless, the cult chose to make a strike at me anyway. They viciously assaulted Emily, who was indeed carrying a child of my blood. They cut her open like a stuffed pig to get to the child, and for that they must pay with blood of their own.

 

Yet in the midst of my personal vendetta against these cultists and the one who puppets them, I am still obligated to act as my position demands; the Warrior King can not afford to be absent for the resurrection of our Order. If you have need or orders of me, I will bring my wrath to fall where it is needed.

 

Until then, hunt well.

 

[Haphaestus]

"Lord Exodus," Haphaestus greeted him in return as behind Kitaara the meeting doors closed. It seemed indeed that in the sudden chaos and activity on the landing pad, he had not deemed any of his entourage fit to join them, and this stance did him further credit in Haphaestus' sight. "Greatly in power have you grown since last we met. The mantle of Dark Lord is well found with you."

 

He offered Exodus a seat at the long table, which had been crafted of carved wood to match the touch of antiquity that did the great hall reflect. It bore testimony of an exquisite craftsmanship better than any metal table that had by some factory been produced in mass quantities, and so held true to the values of the growing Lemnos Industries. "I must apologize for the anonymity of our gift," he stated. "But I knew not what our messengers might find. The Sith Order has in the past greatly disappointed me and resisted attempts to unify them.

 

"But you perhaps have in recent days succeeded. The fleets above Carida and Onderon have not escaped our notice," he observed.

[Kitaara Shiri]

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.

[ReignOfKarth]

"How rude," Celora grumbled, inspecting the E-11 as she stood next to the man who had given it to her. "I wasn't even talking to her, and she just dismissed me. Stoopa Zabraks. I trieddd over at Star Drives, apparently they don't accept Alderaanian Ale as currency."

[HannibalWasBetrayed]

Almost an hour passed, before Tallin finally arrived to the hangar, joining his squad at the ship. He carried with him a collection of weapons, including a grenade launcher, slugthrower pistol, his blaster rifle and the bone vibro blade. He still wore the stolen medium armor, though it was in better condition then when he had first arrived. Around his belt he had a grouping of thermal detonators and frag grenades, and he carried personal supplies in the pack on his back.

 

With a nod to the Sargent, Tallin stepped onto the ship's ramp. "Ready."

[Exodus]

The voice patterns that drew from the mouth of Haphaestus were more natural than he remembered. The cold texture of it remained, but the secret was riddled within the pronunciations. Exodus understood that his presentation was refined flawlessly over time, and such great lengths had passed since the two had been seen face to face, long enough to catch a measure of perfection in his guise. As the door closed behind him, and Master Haphaestus broke bread, Exodus kept careful notice in how the little blue alien positioned herself adjacent to the other Sith. A telling hint. If Exodus was unfamiliar with the creature that sat across from him, he would say that his kin had become reckless with the involvement of outsiders in the business of Sith. The Dark Lord was more familiar with him than others could guess at however, and the idea of recklessness was not synonymous with one such as Lord Haphaestus, this he knew for certain. Further than this was the fact that Exodus had still maintained his own weaponry without resistance from the secretary or any of the idle droids. Lord Exodus was a monster with or without his tools, but to allow him the option to carry them would only severely increase the chance of fatalities in this room. What this meant was that keeping Kitaari here was strictly intended, and so her veil was slowly coming undone.

 

• “You honor me with your words.” His voice sincere, but dripping with a tone of curiosity.
  

 

He moved a few more steps forward, pressing the heels of his leathered boots hard into every stride to challenge the density of a false floor. He counted his steps methodically; paces from his ship, as well as every direction to the nearest entrance, which was an astounding subconscious routine of his. He moved with supreme grace, and none of his precautions came across stiff or telling. The Spider had mastered these arts before his introduction to Sith culture and these were second nature to him. A hand traced in exquisite metal clicked across the top of the chair, tapping on the wood before pulling the entirety of it to a particular angle. Dragging the seat to the left, and seating himself before the others, all of his blind spots were now covered. He could hear the incessant lecturing of his father, griping about how many men he had killed simply by way of an unmarked doorway, and having his back to the door now would be most unwise.

 

“You are forgiven. Your diligence is understood. Our people have lost sight, and with their eyes so sorely removed, they have become little more than exotic prey. Disappointing, as you say, and I would agree.” A frigid tone bled through the metal mask attached to the lower half of his face. He spoke low, but the modulator embedded in the mask, empowered the strength of his words and threaded a most sinister chill to them. "Carida was a warning, I could not sit idly by as traitors so comfortably announced the decimation of our people. They jeopardized their public standing and I made them pay for it." He could still feel the sorrow of the planet as if it was Nubia that now burned. "Onderon was, a necessity against our extinction. From that fruit, you will see just how unified we have become, old friend."

 

 

• "Haphaestus,
   
  ...Why are you here?"

 

The question held many meanings, and the tone of inquisition by the Dark Lord, beckoned for a justification.

[Haphaestus]

When the Dark Lord denied not the Sith action over the named worlds, Haphaestus deemed that with a measure of honestly he too should proceed. "When from the company of the Order Darth Quietus cast me out, into Dominus' fortress I sequestered myself for some years," he explained. He invoked not the names of Nurgle nor Rivan, lest he reveal concerning their nature something to which Exodus had not before been privy. "In seclusion I dwelt upon the dark side, but lacking industry I found the time ill-spent. When in my ruminations I chanced upon a distant shatterpoint, I took an apprentice to be my partner and founded all of this to which you now bear witness." He did not here implicate Kitaara Shiri directly, knowing she may wish still to maintain some benefit of anonymity, but to Exodus it would require no great leap of intuition to see through the ruse if indeed he had not already.

 

Less than two years had passed since those first steps he had taken, and already Lemnos had into a major player evolved. "When opportunity permitted, we together struck down Grand Master Kirlocca on Carida beneath the very noses of the Empire that has become our hunters," he continued. "I trust my creations delivered the wookiee's weapon to you and so prompted your visit.

 

"Now that all this has by our hard work been founded, we seek a cause that it might in some capacity serve, lest we amass wealth for no greater end than itself," Haphaestus said. His eyes behind his metal mask ornate studied the Dark Lord critically. "Tell me of the Order which you now lead, Exodus, and of its aspirations, that I might judge whether by our support it may better perform some worthy task."

[Exodus]

Exodus listened with dissection, and could hear the rhythm of truth behind each word that Haphaestus spoke. His eyebrow lifted at the mention of exile by the hands of Raynuk Montar, an event that was sure to be filled with climactic detail but unfortunately was polished over too quickly. The Exile continued and loosely affirmed that he did indeed take on an apprentice, playing an important cue for the Dark Lord to turn his attention to the blue sentient, while he chiseled a rather fierce look towards her. "Public Relations."

 

 

• "The Wookie has fallen, you and your apprentice do me a great service, unless the Jedi that follows and fills that role is far less competent."

 

The Jedi, like the Sith, had become lethargic and lost in their ways. Cousins of the Force that allowed the weight of power to obstruct their path to prominence. If Kirlocca and the Dark Lord prior continued to reign, perhaps both Orders would have fallen to utter extinction. This was no understanding built on jealousy or hatred, this was a reality that saw the two mandates of Light and Dark suffer and regress into sterility. The belief was that, if the Wookie died and in his place another rose who possessed even less drive or even less command than the aforementioned, then the Jedi would become obsolete and the Sith would have an easy path to triumph. Exodus did not long for the plague of the easy road, it was the strife that produced excellence. Haphaestus would understand all of this, and his meaning, in those very few words.

 

"What you ask of is no simple thing to articulate, Lord Haphaestus. You must understand that under the Order of old that produced such barbaric creatures in the vein of you and I, was a thing that became our undoing. That Order was weak and divided, yet we were revered. What I seek now is greater than that, what I build is an Empire, one structured of hard iron and wildfire. We will be feared, and we will be respected. The pieces move even now brother, and I have seen them come together in the clearest of dreams. The Masters of our Dark Arts will come to know discipline and structure, and become true students of the Sith that can properly wield their savagery, and we will be as One. The recklessness that had once plagued us will be sharpened into the most immortal of blades and cut into the galaxy so that we can stand on a grander stage and instill the promises of the Code." As the Dark Lord spoke, the venom in his eyes churned brighter and brighter, slamming his fist into the table with a fuel of passion dancing through his body. His voice softened now, staring into the creature that sat behind the metal mask, a creature he knew well.

 

"We are a necessary evil, you see. But we are freedom in the form of anarchy. Lords of the Darkness that are destined to temper the chaos, wield it as our own, exercising it as we alone see fit. We must grow, we must be unified in our evolution. One voice, and one fist empowered by a deeper perception than we have ever been privy too. I will see us to the top of the food chain, worlds will chant our names as we unshackle them from their meek complacency, our governing body will be like a beacon for the strong and wise, and those that have declared war on our kind will bleed dry without a drop of mercy." Exodus folded his hands as he balanced his forearms across the table, uninterested in approval, yet craving the realization of these dreams as the words manifested inside of his mind. He would let the words sink, for now.

[Kitaara Shiri]

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.

[Haphaestus]

Exodus' designs for the Order were not unlike those that once Haphaestus had conceived. Considering that Exodus too had once learned from Dominus, though to what extent he knew not, this was no great surprise. Of discipline, structure, and brotherhood the Dark Lord spoke. Chiefly different from Haphaestus' leadership however was any mention of political posturing, but indeed Exodus' Sith had not the opportunity for a clean slate that had been by the Galactic Peace Accords afforded to Haphaestus'. He had enemies apparent, and upon them he would wisely focus the Order's rage, lest they grew restless.

 

When Angelia chose at last to reveal herself, Haphaestus maintained his gaze unwavering upon the Dark Lord. Upon her question spoken he added his own. "And what indeed of rogue elements? Have you found our brethren willing to be led in the way you prescribe? How many continue to war among themselves beyond your sight?"

 

Haphaestus was himself faced with a curious choice. Always had he envisioned an Order sculpted into a brotherhood, but even as now he was with one presented, he questioned what place within it he might hold. For though a brotherhood he desired, he wished also to choose his brothers. Toward such men and beings as Quietus and Sheog he felt no kinship, and so apart from them he had sculpted Angelia from a slave into the first of her new kind.

[Exodus]

“The answer to your question is right before you, Darth Angelia. It is for those that embrace it, just as you have under that very same title you so eloquently introduced yourself with.” Exodus’ smile was veiled by his mask as he spoke, passively intrigued by the founding of another Sith. “There will be a great many that ascribe themselves to the decree that we as Sith rule by, just as you have without my sanction. They will inherit the honor of titles liken to Darth, they will sing of freedom, and they will fasten themselves to the ideas of a brute strengthening and superiority. It will be for all but the weak, which we will shed from our bodies like petrified skin.”

 

 

• Exodus monitored the variations in the demeanor that the Twi'lek held, it was easier for him to anatomize her every movement and find the imperfections, but she played it well. Perhaps she would find a place inside his ranks at the political front, the recapturing of galactic-level administrations under such guises, but word of this was known to no one besides the Dark Lord himself. The pieces moved quickly, and with fresh faces and talent, the possibilities were endless and perilous all the same. In spite of that, all those that were not of the Sith, were simply in the way. He returned his sovereign scrutiny towards Haphaestus once more..

 

"Without hesitation, Lord Haphaestus. From the Warrior King that you've come to know well, to the Great Sheog whom now roams these walls. There are those that would surprise even yourself, Blacksmith. The question of allegiances have never concerned me when the most powerful of names surrender themselves to my own. The petty dissidence will dissolve, not because I wish it so, but because they will inherit a much larger dominion in their new roles. Their hunger, their rivalries, and their emancipation will live forever. It is the direction that will focus them, it is the discipline that will sieve their hatred into a much more fulfilling purpose. Of this Sith Empire, all our Kings and Queens shall flourish, for my will is an unbreakable one." Conviction drenched each and every letter of his words, a steep avowal that cared not for the opinion of others, but carried itself with the rare sensation of infallibility.

 

 

• An encrypted broadcast from Raynuk Montar hissed into his ear, convincingly low. Exodus raised his hand to depress the metal at the hinge of his jawline, and whispered a few words to the beast that secured the area just outside, he would address Quietus when the meeting had adjourned. "..Come see who I've found." The short range message would bounce to the Hutt, and Master Sheog would without a doubt love to see who it was that had interested the Dark Lord in discovery. Exodus relaxed his arm, and rested it where it once was, returning an unwavering look towards his inquiring host.

 

"...Now, what do you have for me?"

[Sheog the Mad]

The Hutt eyed his apprentices with great interest. The former beast had regained its humanity in part, a gift taken with its death on Hoth, and given again upon Onderon. The overlarge Hutt nodded to the twins and pushed himself further into the interior of the facility, leaving behind his retinue. Vindalo placed a hand on the shoulder of the young woman whom he had equipped with a weapon and nodded to the Master of the Krath. He beckoned for Uriel and his associate to join him with a smile and a wave of finely manicured fingers. His other hand brushed fine strands of darkened hair from his corrupted eyes.

 

The man considered himself a dandy, and as a Sith Lord of the Order of Assassins he took every opportunity to blend into the lavish surroundings he often found himself in as he followed the Master of Gluttony. Karema was no different in his taste of men and the finer things that Avarice had bound him to. They were fraternal twins but held a bond forged through the Force that even their opposed orders could not break. The Vermandois brothers were the last of their family, having lost everything under the savage Jedi attack on the innocents of Kuat. Lords of Assassin and Warrior, bound to Sheog through friendship more than pure force of will. Vindalo spoke to both Uriel and the girl who still held her E-11 like a mocking soldier

 

“While our master is occupied with the inner workings of the Sith, let us train together…”

 

A small bead of sweat trickled through the back of his long hair, and a nervous laugh filtered through his thin lips. Karema stepped forward, bringing his cape about him in an overdramatic sweep which filled two roles, to distract from his brother’s nervousness, and the bring attention to the beautiful stitching on the crimson and gold robes. They were inlaid with the language of the Sith, which neither of them could read, and so it only served the purpose of a flashy display of wealth and opulence.

 

“Soooo… What emotions do you both feel the most power from?”

 

 

The insane Master of the Krath followed the sound of of The Dark Lord’s desires, winding a trail of slime towards the inner facility where his friend awaited him. He was wary of his surroundings, and gathered his gluttonous hunger about him like the web of an overly chubby arachnid. His staff bit into the tiled flooring with each push of his muscular tail, and through it he could taste the facility about him.

 

<>

 

The Hutt passed slowly through the doorway, disliking the standard-sized doors that were built for humanoids. He breathed in a blubbery breath and observed the scene before him, before slithering up to the Dark Lord with a large smile plastered across his deformed face. His voice showed reverence and respect but no grovelling sucking up that was common for such interactions

 

<>

 

The Great Master of the Krath held out a slimy fist towards the Dark Lord, in a symbol of greeting he had recently scene on a midday holodrama. His heavily lidded eyes blinked as he obsereved the others in the room. A cloaked droid, with eyes of fire and the same rude Twi'lek as before. His mind recalled the lessons of Galactic History as he faced the two of them

 

<

[ReignOfKarth]

Celora, still occupied with the E-11 in her hands, mumbled distractedly, "Training like, with this thing? I already know how to shoot a blaster, I mean, it's really not that hard, every idiot in the galaxy uses one. I've even heard stories that Gungans learned to use them, though I can't really believe that."

 

Celora looked up from the rifle, noticing several conspicous members of the group carrying assorted blaster and looking at her in with expressions that she had learned through trial and error were not happy ones, "Oh sorry, I didn't mean, uh present company excluded of course, I just meant that lots of people, like uh, use them? I wasn't talking about you guys in particular, just that they're common and.... oh nevermind."

 

She turned, finally realizing she had been asked a question, "Sorry, you asked a question? Ummmmmm, oh yah, emotions. Well, I've been a slave pretty much my entire life, so I didn't get alot of emotional options, besides constant fear of being torn to peices or having my head blown off by my collar. And I guess hate as well, I REALLY don't like slavers, and I guess snobby Imperials and annoying Public Relations people as well."

 

A slightly bemused and quizzical expression crossed her face as she watched the man who had last spoken, "I still have no idea who any of you people are, you don't seem like you're with these guys," pointing at the entry way to the large builidng. "Your boss seemed cool though. Nice robes man, they don't seem super practical, but they, uh, bring out your eyes, I guess?"

[Raynuk Montar]

I literally can't believe I have to do this, but here it is.

 

Sheog: A cornerstone of Haphaestus as a character is to be a highly and well concealed cyborg. I've been told, that this is something that was already discussed with you when Sheog arrived on Nubia several days ago, and that you responded with being cool with it, yet you did it again. So I'll paint it clearly. Unless you can show me specifically where Sheog got the information from, cut the IC 'jokes' about Haphaestus being Grevious/a Cyborg.

 

This shouldn't have been a big deal in the first place.

[Sheog the Mad]

Vindalo’s corrupted eyes flashed a sulphuric yellow as he listened to the young girl speak in her ambling tone. There seemed to be a growing propagation of young teenage prodigies that thought themselves to be the absolute topmost in all things. Former slaves made the best Sith, their past traumas were an absolute joy to work with. His lips pressed into a forced and tolerating smile as the girl’s voice continued to grate upon his ears.

 

“Oh yes… Public relations people are such absolute bores. Bureaucratically Philistine in their taste in decoration…”

Karema swept his robes about him in a tight swirl, a tinkle of unmanly laughter spilling from his lips as he mockingly danced a Kuatian Two-step, the air acting as his partner. It was a flash of crimson and gold and bouncing curls.

 

“As for us my dear, we are SITH!”

 

He emphasized the word with the ignition of his double-bladed lightsaber, staining the decks with crimson light. With a flip he landed before her, passing the rotating blade behind his back in a flourish. With the touch of a finely manicured hand upon the decking, the Sith Lord caused Celora to levitate and then drop to the ground in a rush of clothing and the clattering of a blaster rifle. Fire swirled about her in a dance of ethereal scorpions painted in bloodied flame

 

“You'll know what power is when we are done."

 

[Kitaara Shiri]

"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.

[Haphaestus]

Though the details of the NYX line Haphaestus would not himself have disclosed, he found Kitaara's offer suitable. There were all manner of prototypes that out of his forge walked, some later perfected and others discarded due not to any flaw in their design but rather due to market demand and other such variables. Some of these were yet put to work within Lemnos itself, but many were not suitable for any common task within a droid factory's many halls, and so the Sith Order might have some use for them. And indeed upon their request he could drive his designs to provide that which nowhere else yet existed, to serve purposes none had yet conceived.

 

"We must of course weigh carefully the benefits long-term of profits and merchandise donated rather than back into Lemnos invested to sustain its growth," Haphaestus added. "But in service to some greater cause was Lemnos Industries built, not for its own perpetuity, and thus only to maximize its usefulness to the Sith shall its assets be apportioned."

 

He stood, inclining his head to the great Hutt Sheog, but his attention fell upon the commotion through the doors beyond. "I must warn that Lemnos will be of no service whatsoever if the Imperial Remnant discovers this meeting," he said darkly. This bade not well for the Dark Lord, that his invited entourage would so recklessly act that all would be put at risk. Their lives would be forfeit well before the company, but their conduct reflected poorly on their commitment to Exodus' design or else his influence over them.

[Dashel Illioni]

As Uriel trailed Sheog about he carefully observed the rest of the members of the entourate. He wasn’t measuring his power against theirs, that kind of competition actually served little purpose. Besides, he already knew he was stronger than most of them.

 

He was looking for wavering concentration, a shifting of the eyes, any telltales really that hinted at less than complete loyalty. Punishment was up to Lord Sheog, but the threat of being revealed carried enough peril that most would do anything to avoid it. And that kind of power one could never have enough of.

 

Uriel knew he had to stay focused because the hunger and anger that was the Darkside waited to devour his mind, his soul and his sanity. His rebirth had left him stronger than before, more himself than a raw representation of the Darkside’s hunger.

 

That didn’t mean he given up his previous habits. He still enjoyed the taste of Sentient flesh, he still enjoyed keeping the hides as souvenirs. He still enjoyed the screams of the cattle as they were slaughtered at his hands.

 

For a second, he reminisced about his last meal, a young man whose organ’s he’d eaten directly from the twenty something’s abdomen using a type of bread from Kashyyk famous for the amount of fluid it could absorb to sop up the blood.

 

His stomach rumbled at the thought of the young man’s meat that remained sitting in his frig, waiting to be turned into a gourmet meal. He had a number of ideas on how to prepare his next meal but since this meeting might be going on a long time, he might need to settle for quickly frying both sides and and eating a quick steak and potatoes meal.. Something like regret entered his thoughts for a mere second.

 

That moment of self-indulgence meant almost missing a sly glance from a woman in Sheog’s retinue. Uriel caught the end of the glance and winked at her to cover his momentary lapse.

She returned a full smile in his direction and he realized she’d hadn’t been looking for an advantage, but a different type of relationship. Although that relationship might be about ultimately about power, Uriel looked forward to discovering if it was both, one of them, or something else entirely.

 

Besides, she could always grace his table should she not be important to Sheog.

 

After Lord Sheog dismissed them to train with Lord Vandremos, he bent down quietly and obtained a sample of the slime the Hutt always seemed to leave behind. He had no idea why he did it, it was definitely not edible.

 

As he watched Lord Sheog go through the doorway, he reached out to the three sisters that resided in the ring he’d awoken with on his finger. The Khrone replied, saying that with that much Darkness in one place there was no way they could listen in without being detected.

 

He followed Vandremos and listed to his questions when he asked them. Uriel took his time replying, considering the question from several points of view before replying.

 

“Hunger, my Lord, is my emotional foundation in the Darkside. The hunger of a starving man, that brings total clarity to the mind, where one is devoid of any emotion and transcends to a place of pure, focused willpower.”

[ReignOfKarth]

Celora came awake in a kind of groggy daze, one which had gotten her beaten many times before for not awakening quickly enough, looking around at a vaguely familiar site, definitely not where she had last been. “Where am I? What’s going on? This wasn’t where I…”

 

A feeling of panic set in as her body began to move without her permission. “How am I moving? My body doesn't even feel normal. What the Kriff is…”

 

She trailed off as her wayward eyes glanced at a mirror hanging on the wall. For a moment, the image of her younger, 12 year old self glanced back at her. “Why am I young? Is this my old master's ship?”

 

Celora paused as her body ran into the living quarters, and bowed deeply before a older human bent over a battered engine piece. “Is this a memory? Am I… living a memory? Then which memor…”

 

Celora was cut off as she began to speak out loud, again without her permission, “You called me, Master? How may I serve?”

 

The man grunted distractedly for several minutes, before finally responding, “We’ll be taking off soon, clean this place up.”

 

“Wait is it... This memory… Please don’t let it be this memory.”

 

“I heard some pirates are coming after us,” The man grumbled. “Guess they don’t like us running them around. We have some time, they’re not in system yet. Go get the rations from that Twi’lek.”

 

“NO NO! You don’t have time! Run please I can’t go through that again, iI can’t watch him die, be enslaved to those awful pirates. Run Run RUN!” Celora screamed helplessly in her mind, impotent to affect the impending doom.

 

“Yes of course Master, I will do so.” With a bright smile, younger Celora skipped off toward the freighter’s bridge, all the carefree nature of youth in her springing step.

 

An explosion rocked the freighter, a section of the wall blowing in, sending debris flying and knocking Celora to the ground. The master spun around, drawing a blaster pistol from between his legs and firing into the opening. The first pirate in, a large quarren, dropped immediately, but the second, a massive mechanically enhanced pirate, charged through, knocking away the pistol and holding the master aloft by a single robotic hand. Younger Celora stumbled to her feet, while older Celora screamed and cried helplessly in her head.

 

“Wait..” Celora was interrupted by a vicious blow to her stomach, the pain from behind her abdominals beginning to spark a reaction that would end with losing her last meal, before another pirate delivered a massive slap to her cheek, his large hand the size her face. She stumbled back, spitting bright blood from her damaged mouth, as a third pirate stepped forward to deliver a spinning kick to her unprotected chest, hurling her back into a wall, where she dropped limply to the floor.

 

The first pirate delivered a stomp to her helpless midsection, followed by a cruel, “Stay down, dobellia nok.”

 

Celora could feel the pain racing through the body of her younger self, helpless to act. She knew that she would lay there helpless, unable to move or see, and hear the sound of her master dying to the hands of the pirate, and be forced into slavery on board their ship.

 

“Need to do… something, must…” One of her eyes slowly opened, the other swollen shut by the blow from the pirate, and saw the leader still holding her master aloft, the other pirates standing around, laughing and casually looting. “Did I do that? Can I… move?”

 

The pirate leader laughed, “You’ve messed with us long among, oh captain. Now, you die.” The pirate thrust the blade he carried in his other hand into the ship’s captain, then dropped him on the ground. “Now that’s done, we can…”

 

He paused, as a slight ringing sound, like two pieces of metal scraping together, rose up. The pirates turned, to see the battered form of the slave girl standing unsteadily on her feet. A look of hate and fear filled her eyes, and her shaking bloody hands were clenched in firm fists. A voice older than her appearance crept haltingly from her, “I… will not… be your slave again.”

 

“Again?” One of the pirate took a step toward her, only to pause as a utensil floated calmly in front of her. “What the…” A moment later in flew forward faster than the intruders could follow, and impaled itself deep into the arm of a Zabrak pirate. Before any of the pirates could react, the Zabrak was riddled with dozens of utensils, as if he had fallen on a bed of spikes. Chaos erupted as the pirate fell, another pirate having a large metal pipe thrust into, throwing him against the wall much like Celora had been, blood beginning to drip from within the pipe like a water faucet. A jetpack exploded on a female pirates back, blowing herself and two others beside her into pieces that rained down like acid hail. A pistol floated from the holster of yet another pirate, and opened fire on his neighbor, drilling him from space junk to brain, while the gun’s owner was crushed against the wall by a massive Durasteel case.

 

Only the pirate leader remained, and the two last alive turned to face each other, the pirate’s look of rage almost matching the mirrored expression on the slave. He took a step toward her, blade ready to avenge his comrades, and with a feral scream growled out, “You Karking…” HIs exclamation died in a choking grunt, as his robotic arm, with a whirring of gears and a grinding of snapping metal, turned against him and began to clutch his throat with an iron grip. His rage turned to pleading, staring helplessly at the pitiless face of the slave. Celora spoke, her voice almost in a whisper, “You will not own me, I will not suffer that fate again.” With a final grind, the hand clenched, crushing the throat and neck of the pirate. Finally released from her control, the hand unfurled, as the pirate crashed to the ground, appearing almost peaceful amidst the carnage surrounding it.

 

Celora slowly turned, her body and face covered now in the mixed blood of the pirates and herself. She stepped over to the body over her former master, the only living occupant next to the first to die. “Master Syvil…”

 

 

 

Celora returned from her memories, surfacing to the world to find herself laying in an undignified heap on the cold metal plating of the landing bay, the ornate figure of the Sith standing above her, a mocking grin on his face. “That was Kriffing strange. What. Did. You. Do. To. Me?”

[Raven Nasra]

The Imperial Ship Eventuality of Justice and its passengers departed for Carida.

[Exodus]

There was a brooded feel in how the Dark Lord watched over the products as they were revealed. The specifications were pronounced in order to swoon him, but he could not find it in himself to feel impressed. Perhaps the Twi'lek did not understand that what she had explained could be used against the very Sith he had resurrected, or perhaps, she understood that better than anyone. Such a creation could threaten the survival of his Kin, but it could work for them all the same. Lord Exodus spent no visible reaction, and chose to steam the notion inside his mind a bit longer. If Lord Quietus had turned Lord Haphaestus into an enemy of the Sith, the uprooting of this problem would require haste. If Lemnos Industries was what these two confessed it was, only time would tell. The Spider relaxed his strict posture, and allowed his form to ease against the assuring craftsmanship of the chair he was seated on. A loose strand of his dark mane slipped from the pull of his ponytail, and brushed in front of his immaculate veneer. He still studied the two of them furiously, and with an unwavering steadiness in his expression. The motion of the waves in the Force moved in ways only he had mastered, crawling around the room and infecting the ambiance that surrounded them with insidious precision.

 

The door pushed open and from the archway came another, but Exodus kept his focus on the two before him, not needing to confirm who it was that had arrived. Lord Sheog, Devourer of the Many and a merciless plague to the living in every sense. Exodus knew this creature well, a prominent Krath that would only swear it’s loyalty to a chosen few. The monstrous brute slithered by in crude manner, and Exodus extended his arm so that the fold of his metal gauntlet would pound against the gargantuan fist of the Hutt, a rather unique greeting between the two phenoms. “..Worldbreaker.” Exodus replied coolly, and the word left his mouth with an unfamiliar Sith accent. The spew of language was strangely energized in a power that most could not discern, and the name would stick to the Hutt because the Dark Lord carried the weight to make it so.

 

"..Blue skin, you are not mistaken. My wolves are hungry. Your brothers feel a famine that you have been deprived of, hiding behind these walls. I assure you, they will be on their way shortly. I must commend you both on your survival nevertheless, your recent triumph over the Jedi, and the niche you've cut out for yourselves. I must warn you yet, the decree of this mighty Sith Empire is of an entirely different nature, not for the dogmatic views of old. Lord Haphaestus, and Lady Kitaari, it is a fortunate thing that time has not taken you." Exodus stood up from the luxury that was provided to him, brushing down his clothes as he stood next to his brother-in-arms, the difference in size was laughable but the measure of raw power was terrifyingly similar. "..Do you have anything else for me?" The Dark Lord could feel the eyes on him, and the emotions that slipped from subconscious, yet his voice held truly poised.

[Sheog the Mad]

Vindalo turned on the reformed beast, Uriel with eyes that portrayed his questioning. The Sith Master kept his dark robes about him as he placed a hand between the two of them, drawing upon the feelings of the city about him. He could feel the life of everything, the suffering of the downcast, the elation of the greedy, the fear of those dying. Within his palm, lay the glittering surface of a Coruscanti gem.

 

“You starve? A sailor surrounded by undrinkable water, dying of thirst? Focus that hunger into your mind, let it allow you to see the Force about you. See everything I hold, beyond the physical…”

 

Karema’s thin lips twisted into a more of a grin as he extinguished his blade, tossing his head to cause his blonde curls to swirl about his neck in a cascade. His robes continued their dance of gold and crimson as he stood above the girl, and examined his manicured nails, removing a bit of dust with a quick exhalation of breath.

 

“Kriffing, darling? Such language from such a young girl. Such…”

 

His sulphuric eyes stared daggers into hers

 

“Spirit. Spunk. Such quintessential Outer Rim Soul. That was the gorram power of the Dark Side!”

 

He dragged her to her feet with the force, the clutching fingers of a thousand hands righting her, before releasing her from their embrace. From his belt the Sith Master took a small golden flower, a pressed and preserved acrerose from Belsavis. Tightening his lips into a pout he pressed the flower into the girl's forehead with the tip of his thumb, letting the sweat seal it to her alabaster skin

 

“Use that hate, that rage, that teenage angst. Tell me everything about this flower, where it was found, who plucked it… See without seeing. Let those emotions guide your mind.”

 

 

A slobbering breath was his intake as he stopped his wormish pushing at the end of his destination, beside his Dark Lord and friend. The caress of Sith-imbued metal upon his own flabby knuckles was a rainstorm upon a dried field, and an awakening rose from deep within his corrupted mind. The words of The Shadow Spinner were beginning to weave themselves with his own demons.

 

Worldbreaker…

 

A slithering hunger crept across the tasteless tiles, a grasping avarice feasting upon the sterilized and inhumane structure. Far too clean, far too inhuman, far too unlived. With his exhale came his own vision, beyond the emotionless words of bureaucratic industry. Growth, Investments, Production. Tools that were unbound to their will. All paled before the darkness. They must not lose sight of their goals.

 

A tattered corpse of a beaten enemy, a feast for the carrion, flesh rendered by the consuming maws of a thousand maggots, hanging like tattered rags from bleaching bones. Face half-torn, the larval-knit tapestry of musculature still contorted in pain. A swarm of botflies darting like squadrons of fighters on their attack runs about the bloated and oozing body. Her hair hung in rivulets of rot down an emaciated back, entangling exposed ribs in a cascade of ebony. Beneath shriveled toes of the crucified, dripping with the castaway filth of maggot’s excrement, lay a pile lightsabers. Scrawled upon a splintered breastplate in the fading vermillion of dried blood bore the words of victory

 

...The Jedi’s Failure…

 

The Hutt’s crimson visage took in the Sith before him, comparing their own words with the vision of the Sith Empire. His gift was the vision of what it meant to be true Sith. To crush their enemies completely and without mercy. Not to hide in their fear-filled barrows like flitting ghosts. He cared not for their admonishments, it was not the Hutt that had set up a factory on an enemy planet. He cared not to speak, but to share the glory of the enemy's destruction with his brethren, without contempt. The death that was coming, the fear, the terror was a mighty feast for all to partake in. Power beyond the untamed tools of industry.

[Lusef Aryan]

A secret and highly encrypted message comes in for the Dark Lord from Vladimir Faust. It was ten words long, and full of more woe in those ten than most could believe.

 

 

My lord, it is done. The Galactic Alliance is yours.

 

[ReignOfKarth]

Celora's eyes widened as realized the meaning of the Sith's words, the soft flower gently pressing against her forehead, "Wait! Not agai..."

 

Celora blacked out, collapsing under the weight of the Force within the Sith connecting to her own Force nature. A dim, hazy vision, not like the sharp, overwhelmingly real memory she had before experienced, slowly consolidated before her eyes, a golden flower sitting alone in a field, a young child running toward it, stopping, plucking it up from the ground, a small drip of blood falling on the petals from a little cut on the childs hand, disappearing within the stem.

 

The vision shifted, a scream in the night, the child crying, clutching the flower tightly in its little hands, the begging before death, a spray of blood covering the child, a bead of blood, the scream dying in a chocked gurgle, the crying louder, changing to a scream of fear, abruptly silenced, more blood falling on the flower.

 

Another shift, a man kneeling, a large hand enveloping the flower, tears besides two graves unimportant to the world, hate regret and pain in the air, a shaking hand and a crimson knife, a voiceless sound of pain and a dying gurgle, lifeblood split from a sliced neck, the flower resting in a pool of blood.

 

A iron desk, a dark musty room, an old man sitting behind a mountain of files, a broken com resting in the corner, a smell of age and rot of man and material, the gasp of an old pain deep within his chest, easily fixed but for credits, a hacking cough, an accidental spit of dark red blood upon the flower sitting upon his desk.

 

A prisoner crouching in the corner, a layer of bruises covering its body, a blank stare on the small flower resting in the inch wide window, dropped by some careless passerby, a hopeless life, a broken soul, the door behind him opening, a cruel laugh and a casual blow, a pair of drops arching high above to rest on the flower.

 

A soldier in the battle line, a smile on his face despite the bolts, the flower resting within his chestplate, inside a letter to a loved one, this one not to be mailed, for the papers of discharge rested next to them, an explosion, the man flying backward, a creature mauling him, the smell of death in the air, the blood of killed and killer upon the flower.

 

A lover reading the notice of death, another man resting in her bed, a grab of lust, the crashing doors, the man shot down to an incredulous scream, pirates grabbing everything of value, the women holding her lover, his blood on her as she is thrown back against the bed, their blood mixing together to fall on the flower.

 

A women in a factory, in her only prized possession her little flower, risking a glance to see its golden appearance, a man unseen, the crack of the whip and the slick sounds of tearing flesh, the flower ripped from her, the beating continued, the flower falling from the attackers hand to rest upon the unmoving, bloody back of the women.

 

A man, rich in garb and pompous in appearance, his guards disappearing, a dark alley way which his vehicles slides through, an impact on the roof, the driver dies, the fat man grabbed, a scream better suited to a child, a slow, contempous cut, another death cry, the thud off the body, a calling card traded for the flower soaked in the fat mans blood.

 

A package arriving, a dark ship, ornate robes and dark smile, the feeling of death and blood like music to the recipent, the package alone, a fresh drip of blood from a severed hand within the box falling on the flower.

 

 

Celora returned to herself, shaking slightly for a few moments, "I feel pain. I feel death. That is all this flower has known."

[Sheog the Mad]

Karema held the teenager’s unconscious form as it dropped, ensuring she didn’t dash her pretty skull upon the unforgiving durasteel tiles. Girls were such fragile things. Delicate minds so easily overwhelmed by the Force. He breathed in a small breath while he waited, taking in the girl’s fragrance, observing her closely. Her sense of style almost made him wish he had not caught her, and she stunk of slavery. The soured smell of the frightened, the odour of spoiled potential. As she awoke, he kept his arms supporting her, leaving behind the evilness that might compare him to a slavemaster in her mind

 

“Darkness was in the soil in which is was planted. When the rain came, its darkness sprouted with it, gorging in corruption. Darkness waited behind the star that gave it warmth and light. Darkness followed it where it went, as it follows your path. As the days are determined by the night, we are all defined by darkness.”

 

The Sith Master pinched the flower’s pressed form, and a sudden heat began to flow around them. Wind swept back the Sith’s curling locks, and his sulphuric eyes flashed. His delicately manicured hand closed about the flower, and it disappeared into his flesh, leaving only a patterned scar.

 

“The Force is like an Arachnid, forever spinning her web, connecting all life. Ensnaring us all. Beyond the physical, beyond the emotions… What do you see about us? Where does the Force flow? What does it look like?”

[Haphaestus]

"For now I believe our present arrangement will suffice, but it is yet only a foundation for the partnership to come," Haphaestus answered. From his chair he rose, cloak draped over his tall form entirely obscured. When combined with his gauntlets of darkmetal and his silvered mask, it was to none apparent just what he was, knowledge to which even Exodus himself was not privy.

 

"Lemnos shall begin to send droids to Korriban or another world of your choosing," he continued. "If more you desire or wish something particular designed that does not yet exist, simply send word through secure channels. When time and opportunity permit, Angelia and I may journey to see your Empire emergent and your One Sith." For now the Sith Master, consumed as he was by tasks both regarding Lemnos and Angelia's Force visions, did not think the time could yet be spared, but it would not remain so for long.

 

That did not mean that he would not watch and judge the actions of the Order that from outside he could see. Exodus spoke well of his design, but Haphaestus had himself seen the Sith chafe and rebel under any leadership except those that clutched still the views the Dark Lord now labeled dogmatic.

 

"Until then, I am certain your attention is elsewhere required," he concluded.

[ReignOfKarth]

Celora frowned at the Sith, some suspicious aches and pains emanating from her bones that were oddly similar to the many falls and throws she had endured as a slave, “I- again? I mean… fine.”

 

The Sith Master made no move to send her into the mindscape she required to access her limited view of the Force, and Celora realized she would have to do it herself. Celora shook her head, chasing away her normal scattered thoughts of fashion and fear, emotions common to her age, and closed her eyes, attempting to focus herself on the Force. A few minutes passed, before Celora opened her eyes again.

 

“I can’t feel anything, help me get there.” The Sith only replied with a stare, Celora realizing that words like “help me” would probably not gain a positive reaction from the power-driven Force-user. With a deeper frown, Celora closed her eyes again, attempting again to access what she knew of the Force. Furrows of concentration creased her brow, as she attempted again to reach the Force. A wall of nothing confronted her, her mind confining her vision within its temporal bounds. Celora glared at the Sith as she opened her eyes.

 

“I… Require… Assistance.” Irritation built within her as the Sith only watched her. “Kriff you too then.” A third attempt, her mental confines brushing against the divider she had built for herself, her narrow and untrained view of the Force. A groan of painful concentration escaped, long minutes passing before she fell to her knees, exhausted by her attempts.

 

“You are weak.” A voice which seemed to be the medley of everyone who had hurt her whispered in her mind. “You are worthless, too pathetic to even see what is around you. You deserve to be a slave, to be beaten and assaulted, it’s all you will ever be good for. You don’t deserve to be helped, to be trained. Are you so desperate as to trust these people, whose intention are still vague, they probably just want you to be their slave, and that's what you deserve. You are pathetic, you deserve to die…”

 

“NO!!!! I will not be weak.” Celora screamed in her mind, a similar scream escaping her as her eyes flew open, her mind breaching into a viewing of the Force, as her open eyes stared sightlessly at the Sith before her.

 

The Force was everywhere, in every being and passing between them, moving and shifting constantly in waves and patterns. Before her, darkness swirled around the Sith, emotions and colors of the so-called Dark Side, which even the slaves had heard of in far Nar Shaddaa. Not the single emotion of Hate, which she had mostly heard of, but the many vices of the Dark Side appeared in mass around the Sith masters in the area. She gasped as she looked in the direction of Lemnos, a massive dark side gathering surrounding a presence she vaguely thought to be the Hutt. It consumed the Force around it, not letting it escape like the others she had seen, but drawing it in like a ravenous beast. Nearby, a far smaller presence, though no less powerful, emanated, while a cold, twisted form of the Dark Side, completely unrecognizable and unimportant appeared to come from the buildings around, and concentrated in a small spot which seemed utterly miniscule before the power of the black hole of the Hutt.

 

Scattered across the planet, a mix of Light and Dark energies came from the planet and the people, as she felt the power of the Force mixing together and extending away into the galaxy. “I guess it’s pretty cool I can see this, don’t think many people can. Weird.”

 

A sigh escaped her as her vision refocused on the normal world, and she turned to the Sith, “That was strange, the Force is… not what I imagined. You got some weird energies.” A thought struck her, and she continued in a rush, “Wait, this isn’t one of those ‘tell you and I’ll have to kill you’ things right? I can keep secrets, you don’t have to kill me.”

 

A look of horror flashed across her face as she remembered what she had said, “Did I just insult you? Oh Kriff…”

[Keenava Dira]

Comm to Exodus - -

 

Hello mast--zzzt--er

 

I ma--chshhhh--de contact with Dordjooba. Hutt agents are heading to Korriban and might already be there. As for me… I feel I have failed you. I feel I have failed myself. I’ve committed myself to a re-understanding of who or what I am. Please, don’t try to find me. I will find you when or if I am ready to serve again. Thank you for all that you’ve done.

 

For now, fight well, Master.

 

The call cuts off with a lot of static, implying that the call ended due to interference instead of disconnection.

[Maeve]

Thunderous yells and pounding sounds; jeers, cheers, and cries.

 

Feet pounding the dull concrete.

 

The beat of a furious heart.

 

These are things I live for; things I revel in.

 

She took the time to wrap bandages around her wrists, rub powder onto her bluing knuckles and stretch her sore muscles. (I should think twice before clubbing before a match). She rubbed a little of the powder on her callused hands and tightened her fists, feeling the flow of life through the veins of her thin skin. Dried spots of red and brown still lingered on the tips of her knuckles. And they still smelled of victory. Here’s hoping it wasn’t short-lived.

 

She bent her head toward her hands and took a deep breath through her nose. She smiled, dull white and yellow teeth glinting in the fading light of the dressing room.

 

Time to go…

 

_________________________

 

SCRUBS AND SCRUBETTES WELCOME TO NEW HAVEN’S STEELYARD. ARE YOU READY TO SEE TWO FLESHBAGS KICK THE CR#P OUT OF EACH OTHER?!

Fanatic cheering filled the large open yard of sod, followed by rhythmic stomping and eager claps.

ALRIGHT, ON THE ONE SIDE, A NEW HAVEN STEELYARD ORIGINAL, COMING IN AT A MODEST WEIGHT FOR HER HEIGHT AND BUILD, WE HAVE THE CRAVEN UNSHAVEN MAVEN FROM NEW HAVEN!

 

AND, HER CHALLENGER, THE ALDERAANIAN DEVIL!

 

More cheers erupted from the crowd that sat at the edge of the fenced industrial yard as the two fighters entered the circle of light at the center of the yard.

[Kitaara Shiri]

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."