Open Judgment

[Feifi Candorus]

"but master, if I may be bold, what's to stop another sith from taking advantage of this and removing them both? and that sith after them? and so on? or is there some code preventing others from taking advantage? say I challenge someone one day, what would stop another sith from attacking me immediately after, or even during, or is that not relevant?"

feifi was absolutely ravenous when it came to wanting to learn, her eyes gliding over to each movement the fighters made, at least feifi had managed to turn her grief into something useful, but it had awakened something in her, and it was hungry to devour every little bit of knowledge it got its teeth in.

"another question master, if you will further entertain this humble apprentice. I do not wish to be the failure my father was, and in that effort, wish to double my training regimen, if that is acceptable with you."

@René @whoeverelse

 

[Nevizkas]

The furiously fervent amulet had done its task well, scorching a horrible tune against the champion's face and body. So, too, did it burn her own flesh, as power given was never free.

The pureblood felt the vicelike grip around her throat loosen in an apparent panic during the flaming onslaught, and alerting her to the imminent danger. While she was fast, she wouldn't be fast enough to dodge his furious fist entirely. A slight movement to the side to avoid taking a full blow to the face, Cyu still felt the weight behind his reckless attack clip her enough to pause her attack. In spite of the horrific burns, the beast of a warrior flung her, as her body crashed into the pit below.

Anger. Contempt. Fury. These were the emotions coursing through her veins as she lay there, staring back at the man above her. Her wrist, her throat was damaged, and the latter would require medical care, but at that moment she seethed in pain. His silhouette against the flaming balcony was so very pretty, the charred figure brutish and well done, calling out to her in lacklustre triumph.

But if there was one thing she was not, it was weak nor alone.

With all his weight against the ledge of the balcony, itself weakening in the flames that surrounded him, nothing could stop her now. Telepathically, she spoke directly to the man alone, knowing the impact it would have and therefore the advantage it would yield.

"Is this too how you shall teach our child? To disrespect me publicly?"

Cyutadakyr lifted her good hand slightly before he could fully respond to her thoughts, gripping Karys by the throat to pull him with force over the balcony to slam into the ground below within the pit.

Raising to her feet as he presumably hit the ground, her face was righteous and without remorse for what was to come as the disrespect was repaid with interest. A malicious stream of force lightning licked at her fingertips but for a blink of an eye, before making its presence known upon the champion. The torrent fueled by pent-up misery, agony and grief all rolled into one, she would not stop until she broke him, until he yielded.

And if Vossari dared to show his face up top the balcony, he would share his master's fate.

@Apollyon @Fine Dining Set

 

[Khlan Gonk]

"Of course, of course. I look forward to it, oh great one" khlan replied as he bowed. He knew better than to press for more attention at the moment. Instead he turned and looked back at the display.

@Trodai Narat-iv-Adas @LouJoVi

 

[Darth Tempest]

Tempest kept her eyes fixed upon Nakoa, watching as the Wrean knelt at the base of her throne. Placing him under the spotlight - allowing him to feel the weight of disdain from dozens of Sith - was deliberate. Perhaps for the first time, the Apostate would feel the consequences of his decision to abandon the Sith in their most desperate hour. There was no choice but complete supplication, unless he wished to face the wrath of the Dark Lord and the entirety of her Order. She had every intention of keeping his blood close at hand. Every intention of contacting Arla to verify whatever promises he made, and extract additional terms however she pleased.

If the Wrean believed this to be a fair and equitable proceeding, he simply hadn’t been paying attention.

“Very well, Singh.” She said coldly, grasping the vial and blade. “You will be escorted to where we might discuss this ‘deal’.” The Dark Lord said. “Do pray you have not wasted my time.” It was the sole warning she offered him. Her gaze, briefly, flicked to Azar and his apprentice. She had felt the girl join the side of her Master, silently approving by saying nothing about it at all. “Good.” She said in simple response to his own statement about keeping Nakoa in line. She wasn’t aware of, and frankly didn’t care what ‘relationship’ had formed between the two of them. The Pureblood would be expected to act without mercy when necessary. To be as ruthless as his rank deserved. “Do keep this safe, won’t you.” The vial of blood was handed over to him, levitated by the Force.

Only then would Nakoa be allowed to rise from the floor. Only then did Tempest allow her golden gaze to travel towards the galleries that had so rapidly been consumed by commotion - echoes rippling through the Force, just as her sensitive hearing managed to capture the bulk of the conversation that had taken place. Whatever neutral expression Tempest wore beneath her mask, it was rapidly replaced by a scowl that settled into place.

The Dark Lord wasn’t inclined to intervene on the petty squabbles of Sith. There were few gatherings in history that had not ended in violence - such was their way. But to interrupt official proceedings in her presence? To disrespect her presence and the halls they occupied by setting them aflame? Was a step beyond what Tempest would tolerate.

Without a word, Tempest rose from her throne - taking a single step down the carved, obsidian steps of the dais. The Force poured from the tips of her fingers, coiling its grasp tightly around the entire body of Cyudatakyr. The Pureblood would feel the very air pulled from her lungs, as oppressing status prevented the Sith Master from yanking Karys completely off the balcony or attacking him with bolts of Lightning within the confined spaces of their temple.

Any flames that lingered on the balcony would not be allowed to spread - careful application of the Force smothering the heat and oxygen that fueled them.

“I grow wary,” She began, her voice booming loudly. “Of continued theatrics,” With a flick of her wrist, Tempest forced Cyu to face the Dark Lord. She would feel the pressure applied to her shoulders and threatening to buckle her knees. Forcing her to knee where Cremek had only just been executed. “Wary,” She continued. “Of interruptions, based on nothing but fragile vanity. Unbecoming of your rank.” The Dark Lord wasn’t a fool. She hadn’t missed the jealousy exhibited by some of her own Sith after gifts were distributed. She hadn’t missed that it was Cyu who had deliberately picked a fight with an Acolyte beneath her, starting a fight witnessed by an outsider to their ranks.

“You forget yourself entirely, Cyudatakyr.”

The Pureblood would feel the Force coil around her throat - applying the same choke she had inflicted upon Vossari, forcing her to gasp and choke loudly for all to witness. The Dark Lord would hear the woman beg and plead for her own life, or she would break the woman without a second thought.

Her gaze - once more - flicked to the balcony. Landing upon Karys. “Champion Sadow,”

Tempest waited for Karys to present himself on the main floor of the temple - her golden gaze following the Pureblood the entire way. She wasn’t privy to the relationship that had developed between Azar, Karys and Cyu. She wasn’t aware of any love lost between the latter two, and frankly didn’t care in the least. Both had been responsible for a fight breaking out within her halls, and there would be answers for it.

“You will be given an opportunity to challenge this embarrassment,” She said. “In the tradition of our Order.” The Dark Lord wouldn’t abide continued squabbles - nor would she allow Cyu’s behavior to go unpunished. Karys would have his opportunity to prove his worth before the entirety of the Sith Order and challenge the woman he’d thrown from the balcony. Or he would declare himself too weak to do so.

Tempest tilted her head towards Cyu - staring at the woman supplicating at her feet. Her gaze lingered, as if staring past the woman and into something else entirely. Into the presence of life that swirled within the Force.

“I care little for the life squirted into her belly,” She declared.

 

[Karys]

Cyu’s words echoed in Karys’ mind. A swirling of conflicting emotion was birthed inside of him. He was a father? His mind turned to his own childhood, the loss and pain he’d suffered at his father’s hands. Was he doomed to repeat those mistakes? He thought of Param and Cyutadakyr, he thought of the the times they had spent together. They were fractured memories now. He was so lost in his own thoughts that Karys didn’t notice the flames die around him, he didn’t feel Tempest’s grip on Cyu. He was oblivious to the world around him.

Until he was summoned.

His eyes flicked to the Dark Lord. A being of malice and cruelty made manifest. Moments ago, he’d been presented with vambraces showing her favor, that favor was likely the only thing that protected him now. Slowly and steadily, Karys pushed himself up from the balcony overlook that he leaned on. His body screamed in agony with each step he took as he made his way down the steps to Darth Tempest. Karys tried his best to hide his suffering but the occasional grimace bled through onto his face. When he came before Tempest, he would take a single knee, his jaw tightening in anguish as he did so.

“What is thy bidding my Lord?” He asked, his voice dry and hoarse.

Karys listened to the Dark Lord, he wanted to vomit at the choice laid before him. What kind of choice was this? His golden eyes flicked from her, to Cyutadakyr, to her belly which housed his unborn child, then over Cyutadakyr’s shoulder to Azar. There was pain and suffering as he gazed at the man he loved, but most of all there was sorrow. And then he closed his eyes.

There was no choice.

Karys knew that. He knew that he couldn’t back down without losing the standing that he’d gained. All would abandon him and he’d be just as alone as Cyutadakyr. Through their mutual connection, through their Force Bond, Azar would feel Karys allowing himself to see the face of a child he’d never meet one time. To enjoy the warmth of being parents alongside him. He’d feel the joy, laughter, and every other emotion associated with a young parent.

And then it would die.

Karys strangled that dream, he killed that part of himself, he murdered his hope. It was a violent and cruel thing that would forever mar him, forever change who Karys was on a fundamental level. Azar would feel every second of it, up to the moment where a piece of Karys gave its final breath and died forever.

When Karys reopened them, there was no conflict. There was no kindness. There was no hope.

Slowly those empty eyes turned back to Cyutadakyr. Karys regarded her and her ruined throat, breathing had to be next to impossible. There was no doubt, she had to be broken. With his breath steadying, his mind now focused to this singular task, Karys spoke with confidence.

“Sith Master Cyutadakyr, you are unworthy of your title.” He began at an even pace. “I will prove to the Order how worthless you are.” He coldly continued as he stood to his feet and drew out the hilt of his lightsaber. “I hereby challenge you to the rite of Kaggath.” He icily stated.

The blade ignited to punctuate his decision.

His words echoed out into the audience around them. There was no turning back now. There never could be. Karys had made the final choice.

He was Sith and he acted like one.

Karys’ eyes focused on the amulet at her neck, he had to get rid of it. He wouldn’t give her a chance to recover once Tempest let her go. He’d snatch at it with the Force, seeking to rip it clean from her neck and toss it into the stands beyond. He didn’t care who claimed it, so long as it wasn’t her who had it. As he did this, he’d raise his saber into a guarded position and begin his advance onto her. He needed to get in close to target her only weakness now, their child.

He would take everything from her. Just like he’d done Param.

@Altaris @Xorism @Sreeya

 

[Feifi Candorus]

Meanwhile, feifi was standing, she already had a holopad out, taking notes on everything that happened, every movement, every graceful action the dark lord deigned to commit. Everything.

Ahh.. it paid to be right.. needless dick measuring contests, in front of the dark lord especially, and especially at this kind of event, was practically a death sentence..

Hold up.. WHAT master cyu was WHAT?.. well this is what you get for not wearing a damn condom.. should have known that getting your rocks off had a price.

For a brief moment, the immature part of feifi quietly snickered to herself, but then she couldn't help but marvel at the dark lord, even after she killed her father, she couldn't help but simply idolize the absolutely perfect rage, hate, and power, that she emanates, the sheer control, it was intoxicating, it was delightful!

It was now feifi truly understood, and thus, truly appreciated what it meant to be serving the dark lord, a being of power.. and now, by her reckoning, the most powerful force user in the galaxy following razes death, and to that end, feifi was simply enamoured.

She now grew determined, she would learn all she can, she would rise the ranks, and if needed, she would consume the dark lord if she ever displays weakness and she was powerful enough.. and become greater, and thus honor them both in doing so..

 

[Nevizkas]

What had Cyutadakyr's life been but a series of choices been stripped away from her? Her family stripped her childhood away, locked within a cage. Was it some cruel twist of fate?, revenge from the grave? Her parents always envisioned marrying off the troublesome sprat with only one goal in mind. And she'd always envisioned on destroying that man to escape the maternal bonds forced upon her.

And yet while Cyutadakyr had thought she pursued her own dreams, her own path with someone of her own choosing. The same choice presented itself to her as it once did, in the fucked up kind of way that only life could deliver.

The fact that Tempest crushed her victory, right on the verge of her taking control of the situation, was not lost upon her. Likewise, the oppressive subjunctive nature of her grip, compelled nothing but compliance as Cyutadakyr spun to face the music. A long silent defiance lasted as long as a lost breath, without the chance to refresh her lungs once more.

With the damage Karys had inflicted earlier and the steadfast grip upon her throat now, the pureblood could barely speak with any legibility as it was. Still, the string of letters formed a word as the Sith Master forced herself to plead, to drag herself through the mud once more for the Dark Lord.

There was no doubt in her mind that Karys would accept her offer to continue the fight, even has his near lifeless corpse barely held itself upon the balcony moments before. Her own wounds were bad, but not severe enough to the point she couldn't yet win.

His only hope was to prevent her from burning him again, and closing the distance he had now given her.

As expected, the brutish champion clambered for the amulet the moment she was released. The Master snapped back, snatching the trinket out of the air before it could disappear as she came to her feet, drawing heavily upon the force to win this fight. From the pit, she watched him approach, saber in hand.

Reaching out with the force, she grappled his saber hand telekinetically to twist it and the blade it held away from its defensive posture for a brief moment, a window of opportunity. With this opportunity, she would shoot a burst of force lightning toward his upper torso and face with all its malicious intent.

@Apollyon @Altaris

 

[Azhi Dahaka]

Unlike the three Sith duking it out in the middle of a Tempest's preceding with the strange bird-perch mammal-fish guest or, in fact, the guest themselves, Azhi was having a great time. The delightful scents of blood and burnt flesh filled the air and his nostrils flared, tail-tip twitching. A long reptilian tongue snaked out to lick curved, two-inch teeth, then again over a cold eye bereft of mammalian warmth or compassion.

Azhi wondered if he was allowed to eat the dead. Probably best not to ask.

The Barabel watched as Cyu was flung and the Dark Lord had enough of their theatrics and responded with her theatrics. Azhi learned today there was a hierarchy to Sith theatrics at these social events. Very educational. And a child in the smaller one? Azhi didn't understand why that should matter, but it seemed to matter to the bigger one. Why not simply lay the egg like a reasonable species?

Having edged around the ground, the large Barabel leaned over the balcony railing- avoiding the fire and burnt areas as needed- to watch as the fight continued on the Dark Lord's orders. One couldn't breath and the other one had severe burns.

Azhi bet on Tempest getting the win today.

 

[Karys]

To snatch the amulet from the air as it was being torn away meant that Cyu had to hurriedly get to her feet. It was an opportunity that the warrior capitalized on. As she snatched the amulet, Karys gripped and ripped at her ankles through the Force towards him, with his lightsaber hand. He would only drop tension on the necklace as he did this. The ground was slick with Cremek’s blood, with Cyu quickly getting up to snatch her hopes of victory back from the air, it was unlikely she would have a firm footing. The result would be Cyu slipping in the blood and landing back on her back.

She wouldn’t have time to grip his lightsaber hand, nor would she be able to summon lighting as she fell backwards. The distance between them hadn’t been that great as the Dark Lord had come alongside Cyutadakyr and Karys had knelt before her in supplication before this had begun. Karys didn’t hold still, he had continued his advance as he did this, his lightsaber ready to intercept any lightning she might throw his way. Cyu on the other hand couldn’t move and she wouldn’t have time to either. His lightsaber blade would lash out horizontally at her exposed legs, seeking to cut through her forelegs below the knees as she fell. It wouldn’t matter if she had her amulet again, she’d be losing her legs as a result.

@Xorism

 

[Nevizkas]

While she had prevented him from stealing the amulet, it had come at a price. The tug at her feet caught the pureblood by surprise as she began falling back, losing her heels in the process before she could properly dispense her justice. Karys in all his crispy vigor, sought to expedite the fight by closing the distance and slicing at her legs with a blade.

But relying on the fall alone, he offered no other resistance against her telekinetic grip of his sword arm. As his swing came in, her pull against his guard twisted the blade to the point it harmless sailed by and letting her fall in peace.

But in approaching her he too had entered the bloody mess thus compromising his own footing. From her ground position she risked being skewered to the floor, but with the way he was positioned, his guard would return before she could significantly hurt him with lightning. He would expect another fire attack of some kind, and thus she would need to surprise him completely.

The solution of course, was Cremek.

Darth Tempest in all her fury and torment had twisted and pulled the traitor to pieces. Bones twisted to breaking point, ligaments and sinew scattered the floor. Without realizing it she had crafted a weapon, and one that Cyutadakyr would wield.

Using telekinesis before he could swing again, Karys would suddenly find himself the target of a skeletal buckshot. Shards of various sizes ranging from a pebble to sharp bones, and attached flesh themselves surged through the air toward him to slice and puncture his torso and arms. The attack potent enough, as she pressed him, that he could be sent reeling backwards, keeping grip against the bloody floor might prove fruitless and create the distance she needed.

@Apollyon

 

[Darth Arcanos]

‘I know many people, my apprentice,’ Azar said calmly, his gazed fixed on Nakoa as he responded to her question, ‘Some are worth knowing better than others.’

He hadn’t expected any kind of fight to break out between Cyutadakyr and Karys. He had looked away to curb his own irrational jealousies about the two and the attachments he expected they had towards one another. When he saw the flames and the violence, his blood ran cold. This was the home of the Dark Lord, and the complete disregard for her halls was not going to go unpunished. Moments later, Cyu was flung from the balcony. He didn’t hear what she expressed, but he felt a sudden surge of agony in Karys that had nothing to do with any physical damage.

The Dark Lord announced it and the visions hit him at once. Azar saw the images of a potential future, the face of a child, of he and Karys as fathers. Externally he was usually excellent at keeping a stoic visage, but there were cracks in it. He felt sick, and he stumbled, his hand reaching out to grasp his apprentice’s (@LadyRen ) shoulder. He felt weak and he needed her to keep himself up on his feet.

Azar gave a shuddered gasp, his gaze flicking over to Cyutadakyr. He thought of the very first time they had met, the semblance of camaraderie they had. He thought of his dying people, the dwindling number of new children because of the constant state of war and death. Azar wanted to vomit, countless things clashing within his mind at once. He exhaled slowly, locking it away as he finally released his apprentice.

He gazed at Karys then, his love and the most cherished person in his life. He watched slivers of what made him Karys tearing away strip by strip. With each tear, it was another step away from the man Azar fell in love with. Azar loved Karys for all his weaknesses, flaws, humanity, all of the things that Azar did not possess.

Things that Azar began to slowly experience as a direct result of loving such a flawed man.

His face remained devoid of expression, and he stepped in closer to Tempest (@Altaris ), his gaze still on the fight.

“In our culture,” He said, using every bit of his Force strength to craft the lie that could very well see him slaughtered if she detected it, “Living with the shame of loss is a far worse fate than death. Death permits one’s chains to be broken. Provides an easy path out,” Azar said as he watched Cyutadakyr fling around Cremek’s limbs, “But to live each passing day with the weight of defeat.. Nothing is a worse punishment for a Pureblood.”

He said nothing more, politely bowing his head before turning to the fight. It didn’t warrant conversation. It was merely a tiny seed. It remained to be seen if it took root or if Tempest saw only fire.

@Apollyon @Xorism

 

[Karys]

Karys’ first attack missed, the swing going wide because of a slight tug on his wrist. However as he went in for the back swing, he’d feel the tug of the Dark Side. Karys wouldn’t have time to raise an initial defense, the first volley of bone and viscera struck home. Pelting his arms, shoulder plates, and chest. Deep scratches and punctures dotted him and only added to the pain he already felt.

But the shards were small and he didn’t stumble backwards.

The next volley wouldn’t be so lucky, Karys slammed his free hand down. Countless shards of bone would be sent hurtling towards the ground, where Cyutadakyr lay. As she was pelted with her own barrage Karys focused in on her ruined throat.

He intended to crush it.

He rose his lightsaber into a more defensive posture and prepared for whatever Cyutadakyr had for him. As he did this an invisible noose slid tight around her neck. It threatened to finish crushing her windpipe. To finish the job he and Tempest had started.

@Xorism

 

[Trodai Narat-iv-Adas]

Trodai continued to observe as the original fight was stopped in it's tracks by none other than the Dark Lord herself. She was not amused, and Trodai could understand why. The level of disrespect shown to the Dark Lord by destroying her house was almost enough to enrage him. But he kept himself reserved. Instead he listened and heard all.

His eyes widened slightly at the mention of a child by way of Karys with Cyutadakr somehow.

This complicated things on Korriban. Such a child could unite the desert tribes and the nobility, but dilute the blood. He knew Azar would never allow it. Trodai although conflicted, a child might die...he understood the reasons why and that there were few choices. Even if he disliked the thought of killing children personally, as a child could still be of use. Moulded and easily converted. Perhaps to help. But he understood not everyone felt the same. Luckily this was not his decision to make.

So he simply stood watch. But he was worried for Azar, he could see his anguish and how he grabbed the shoulder of his apprentice. But knew to help would be his own doom. So he was unable too. He knew now that the Korriban trip was needed now more than ever.

Azar needed a rest and Trodai also needed to think as well.

@LouJoVi @Khlan Gonk @Sreeya @Xorism @Apollyon

 

[Nevizkas]

The disgusting and grotesque splattering against Karys pierced through his thick and charred body, slicing and inflicting further pain as this grudge match continued to escalate.

Suddenly the very same material then found itself hurled back whence it came causing Cyutadakyr to left her arm with the broken wrist to shield her face and torso. Despite her best attempt, the sharp objects still found lodging in various spots along her body, stinging and inflicting pain wherever they landed.

Worse, the follow through attack by the overcooked sirloin clenched at her throat once more but this time with the force. Struggling against his physicality had been a mammoth task earlier due to their comparative disparity, but now he was operating in her realm.

Reacting to the crushing feeling that briefly hushed her wheezed breath, she immediately pressed back against the squeezing telekinetically in order to resume breathing, albeit labored from earlier damage. But his attack would not come free, her eyes returned to his as she rotated back, a thousand yard stare between the would be parents.

As she pushed back against him, Cyutadakyr would take advantage of his singular focus being upon her neck to summon the Phoenix once more. The scorching screeching lamenting its jeweled cage, crying for release into this world, and to it's delight, she would oblige.

A furious jet of flame would burst forth from the amulet with a direct line to his torso once more in the hopes of overwhelming his nervous system in the intense heat and energy. But neither was she immune nor invulnerable, as the damage piled up. Feint dots marked her vision as she held on for dear life, hoping, waiting, that that it would be enough.

@Apollyon

 

[Karys]

Karys saw Cyutadakyr’s hand raise, he knew the amulet was there, he vaguely understood how it worked too. His extended hand jerked to the side. The telekinetic grip, the one that she hadn’t broken, was still around her throat. Through it he would send Cyutadakyr’s body spiraling across the blood slick floor she was laying on. It wouldn’t stop the flames bursting forth from the amulet but it would create space between him and them.

Karys dove as quickly as he could to the side, his body screamed in protest as he did so. He landed on his back but he still howled in pain as the shudder from impact reached through to his burnt abdomen. Her flames had missed him, a trick like that only works once, and the amulet had been played out three times now. His eyes flicked to Cyutadakyr’s prone form and then her belly. Cyutadakyr had been a clever foe and surprised him multiple times but she was still broken and now literally laying at the Dark Lord’s feet.

“It’s over Cyu.” He told her through the telepathic link she’d created. “Think of our child and yield.” He continued through that link. He was sure to utilize the same language she had during her reveal. He weaponized the child the same way she had earlier.

If Cyutadakyr didn’t respond, if she didn’t agree to his demand, if she did anything other than submit then the vice at her throat would tighten. Karys would crush her throat, ending her life and the unborn within her. She’d have only moments to reply before Karys did exactly that anyway. He’d show his former friend no mercy, he expected she’d kill him if the roles were reversed.

@Xorism

 

[Mjan Adas iv Sadow]

Mjan graciously accepted his pardon, but both he and @Caerllion of Cyfnos were alerted to the contested deliberations between Karys and another he had recognized vaguely from the party at Nar Shadaa. His form shifted to meet his shifted gaze and he stood forward as he looked upon the balcony above and to the pit below. Were these beings mad? To start a fight in front of their Sithari? He cautiously let his gaze shift from the two toward @Darth Tempest. It was then that she reacted.

Indeed. It was conditioned and warranted for these two to settle this dispute as any Sith should, but Mjan wondered if either had already taken it too far. Both were already beaten, bruised, and battered. They likely had little left in them for a proper Kaggath. And yet, as he watched on, it seemed the two were almost feral in nature, neither refusing to let up as each devastated the other. For a brief moment, there was a hint of sadness in his eyes.

The mother, pregnant with child, fighting the father. It was an age old retaliation that he knew all too well, if it were true. Sith women had always been dominate in nature, using their cunning to gain the upper hand. For Mjan, he felt the bitterness that likely was left in @Karys's mouth at the notion. He had been there, just as the man before him. Regrets he never spoke of. And yet, if it weren't true, Karys had every right to unleash his feral nature. But Mjan had lingered on the thought of the unborn for far too long for his liking and he turned away from the fight.

"Sia" He mumbled under his breath as he turned, his gaze meeting briefly with his brothers, @Trodai Narat-iv-Adas, as he walked back to his seat where his entourage had remained.

 

[Nevizkas]

The attack she made was perfect, timed to compete with his choke and thus defeat him where he stood. Nothing made sense of his defense, against fire and flame, he was on the fence, of life and death.

An opaque veil courted closure, denied as a cry rang clear and true. The weathered face stirred, broaching the morning's rays upon her face as the familiar pitter patter of feet scurried across the hard wood floor.

"Moooom, it's today!!" Came the joyful pipsqueak confidence that only the youth could sequester. Cyutadakyr tensed, an old wound reopened once more as pronounced as the ritual became, no easier choice to be made.

A mother's embrace, closed tight and snug, a chin nestled softly a top a child's head. Tears concealed, withheld turmoil etching heartbreak, yet steadfast confidence, immaculate perfection projected. The things parents do for their children cost themselves what never can be said.

A day she always knew was coming, a day of dread as their child came of age. To be trained and prepared for the life they would inherit, to live a life she could not share.

"I love you, always." Her voice suffered, what a journey it had been. "I love you too, mom." Came the quiet, muffled reply.

"Always."

@Apollyon

theme

 

[Freyja]

Her master's answer was perfectly vague, and yet the mysterious hints in it made her lips curl into a subtle smirk. She believed every part of it, yet her curiosity was piqued. Down her, next to the dark lord though, she didn't let the thoughts roam around too much and her mind instead focus on the center of the room's attention- until said center quickly changed.

So moments after she had witnessed the tensions grow between Master Cyutadakyr and Karys, an actual fight suddenly broke out. As her gaze had been on the Apex associate, she couldn't tell how it had started, but she wasn't surprised that Vossari, Karys' acolyte was involved in it at first as well.

The acolyte was out of the fight soon, but Karys and Cyutadakyr kept duking it out until Tempest interfered - and basically formerly asked the two to finish this the right way. Freyja had no ties or connections to either of the two, but she knew that Azar was much closer with both and in her periphery, she could already see his body tensing up before he suddenly staggered and reached for her shoulder.

Was that...a potential weakness? Was he too attached to either, or was this simply about valuable assets again? A newly turned Master, just like Azar, but a still rather dispensable Champion? But then, there had been the vambraces were at least a testament to his recent successes...Also, this seemed way more personal.

She focused to avoid having anything about her features change in subtle concern for her master, but she wasn't entirely sure about what Azar was trying to imply as he spoke to Tempest. Her eyes darted back to the fight after she had made sure Azar was stable for the moment, tensely watching, but suddenly, the battle approached its end. Freyja's eyes widened as the Master suddenly dropped to the ground, motionless. Both were heavily beaten up, but it seemed like there was a winner...To what price though remained to be seen...

@Sreeya @Xorism @Apollyon

 

[Darth Tempest]

Tempest had no intention of intervening prematurely in the Kaggath - perched upon her throne as Karys and Cyutadakyr fought viciously. Whatever tension had developed between the two of them would be sorted in that very moment, yet another example to be witnessed by the Sith of her Order. It didn’t matter her personal opinions or who had claimed her favor in recent weeks. Only the strong would emerge victorious. Only the strong deserved to call themselves Sith.

The Dark Lord kept her gaze upon the combatants - only allowing her attention to shift when Azar spoke. The Master had earned a place at her side, a right to provide counsel that was weighed and considered in the choices she made. Her head tilted, pondering the advise that Azar provided - insight into the ‘culture’ of those who battled below. Her gaze narrowed, though it wasn’t visible behind the mask she wore. Azar wouldn’t see the cracks in her expression. He wouldn’t be privy to the thoughts that passed through her mind at once, no matter how much he had hoped for the Dark Lord to remove her helmet in the past.

Whatever his intentions, Azar’s words allowed the Dark Lord a deeper understanding of the man that stood beside her. The traditions he espoused. The people he valued, and would spare from the cold oblivion that waited those who dabbled on the darkest aspects of the Force. Her attention promptly settled back upon Karys, staring through the Massassi warrior with new appreciation for how the man could be useful to her. It was information she filed away into the deepest corners of her mind, to be drawn upon only when necessary.

At last - with the final tightening of the Vice around Cyu’s throat - silence fell over the Hurom Temple. She watched as Karys held the life of the Sith Master in his hands, only to hesitate. Stopping short of finishing the job and disposing of such failure once and for all.

Disappointing - but a decision that was ultimately his own to make. Only then did Tempest rise from her blackened throne, beckoning the Force to her command. It built with the ferocity of a Hurricane, swelling within the temple and crackling through every extremity of her body. The very power of the Thule nexus poured into the Dark Lord, and it would be felt by every Sith who graced her halls. It was intoxicating and terrifying all at once. A darkness that threatened to eclipse the sun that bore down upon them.

And it was directed into Cyu.

Like a shroud, the energies of the Force would bear down upon the Pureblood witch - swallowing her within its embrace. Piercing through every fiber of her being, tainting even the most intimate recesses of her mind. Plunging her into the abyss, until even her connection to the Force was drowned out. Until only the emptiness remained.

It was a ritual as old as the Sith themselves, and only one possible due to the weakened state of the unconscious master. Every single Force Sensitive on Thule would feel its ripples. They would feel a presence within the Force die out completely, even as her chest continued to rise and fall with heavy breaths. They would feel the very Force stripped from the woman that had once stood amongst them as a superior. There was no explanation necessary for the horrifying reality of what had only just occurred.

“Henceforth, this embarrassment will be stripped of the rank and privileges she was too weak to maintain.” She word boomed through the Temple. “She will be known as Nevizkas and nothing more. Lesser than the most novice Acolyte.” The Ur-kittat phrase would be understood by most, the very word for failure branded as a title for the woman to bear. “She is nothing. Worthy of nothing. Those who foolishly choose to aid or lessen her shame will be punished in kind.”

Her attention, only then, flicked to Karys.

“Take both of them to be mended. Throw the Witch to the gutter as soon as she is stabilized.”

Tempest paused just then - allowing her attention to shift away from the galleries and back towards Azar. “Witness the fate of those who fail me, Azar.” She began, visor boring into the side of his skull. Without warning, the Pureblood would feel the Force tighten around his body - pressing down upon his chest to make every breath a challenge. To sap the very strength from his legs, forcing him to brace against the Acolyte at his side or fall to knees.

He had overstepped and revealed things about himself in the process. And perhaps he would quickly realize the Dark Lord was not nearly as malleable to his manipulations. “The fate of those who attempt to deceive me.”

“Heed this lesson.” She said, slowly beginning to descend the dais and make for the exit. The proceedings had come to their conclusion.

 

[Darth Arcanos]

Tempest was difficult to decipher as she heard his ‘counsel’. He knew he was overstepping, and he knew there was a chance he would deeply regret it. The suggestion was to spare Karys’ life ultimately if he took a loss. He watched the fight intently, having to curb his own emotions from rising to the surface. His face was stone, but it was a tumultuous whirlwind inside. He was thankful Nefid (@Volene )wasn’t here as the collective anxiety of everyone around would have collapsed her.

The Pureblood saw the fight come to a close, saw Karys take the upper hand…and then hesitate. Azar’s jaw tightened.

It was because of the child.

As Azar expected, it was a permanent hold Cyutadakyr would have over Karys. One that would always bring him short of finishing the job when it came down to it. Because all the reasons Azar loved Karys were all the reasons being with him was a danger to Azar’s own life.

As if to punctuate that line of thought, Tempest turned his attention on him. He felt that grip with the Force and she would notice he turned towards her with unwavering resolve in his gaze. He felt the grip along his torso, and he felt his chest beginning to cave in. He accepted it without looking away, prepared to accept what would have been a deserved death. Being in love with Karys wasn’t the weakness - being in love with a man that had so many weaknesses of his own was the issue.

Azar dropped to a knee from the assault, keeping a calm demeanor even through it. He was a prince and would accept punishments with dignity. He knew he brushed death just then, but even that wasn’t close to what he just witnessed happen to Cyutadakyr. It didn’t matter - Karys would be her little pet as long as that brat existed. Azar thought back to the Param incident, thought to Troiken, thought about everything that happened here.

“I have learned, my lord,” He said with an icy calm as his gaze fixed on Karys’ burned and fallen form, “I have learned a great deal.”

He slowly rose to stand. He had the overwhelming urge to rush to Karys’ side, to tell him it was okay, to hold him. But he stood in silence. Even as others began to mill about, he stood in silence. Even as others addressed him or asked him questions, he stood in silence. Even as the event began to wrap up, he stood unmoving. His gaze remained on Karys the entire time. His love. His Loth-kitten. His Kare-bear. His reason for wanting to claim the title of Sith'ari and write his own pureblood history. The man that had his heart perhaps forever.

And Azar turned away from that man.

Azar walked in the opposite direction, politely excusing himself. His face was devoid of expression, and his mind slowly began to match how he appeared. He stilled the storm, he quelled the passion, he leaned into what mattered the most - his survival. And he walked away from the things that threatened that. He left behind the shattered pieces of Cremek and his own heart in his wake.

“We leave for Korriban now,” Azar stated curtly to Trodai (@Akheron )as he passed, not sparing the acolyte another glance as he kept walking and out of the chambers.

@Apollyon @Altaris

/Exit Thread