Killing Time (Open)

[Necro Stormborn]

Music for accompaniment: Here

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The capital city of Soldon was, at its best, reminiscent of west end Dromund Kaas with a quaint bit of Cato Neimoidia baked in. During his reign while the war raged on around him, worlds like this often found themselves in the crossfire, and could only be enjoyed for a terribly insufficient amount of time before fighting erupted above in orbit or somewhere out of sight planetside. As such the Ex-Warlord had grown accustom to taking advantage of the thin gaps of time one often found between an arrival and a clash. The verdict was not going to come for several days, the peace this world offered with its neutrality, for the time being, could be enjoyed just a little while longer. Having arrived only the day before, the previous dark lord of the Sith was aware he'd been purposely careless with his process and entry into the system. He'd not hid himself, and the individual he'd come to see would know he'd arrived, likely she'd even be aware up to two days prior...deliberate public space lane usage and old Sith Imperial drive signatures would have tagged him to most imperial security chiefs and it would have trickled down, as word circulated and found its way up into the Empress's security briefings. By chance, any Republic listening stations or security section chiefs would likely pick him up as well. The more public it was, the riskier, however this specific gambit ensured he'd get the audience he required... and audience he would demand, take if necessary.

The night sky folded neatly over Soldon as the sun streaked weakly past the horizon and out of view, leaving pale shades of purple blue that smoothly transitioned to drab violet pocked by city lights of yellow and gold. Ramseye stepped into the turbolift and descended to ground level, thinking quietly about who he might encounter this evening. As the metallic doors wooshed into their slots along the wall, sterile white light soaked the furniture and walls of the lobby, leaving a certain dizziness. Brisk steps moved the man outward through the lobby doors and onto the streets. Eyes slid back and forth over pedestrians and security aircars passing by as slow methodical steps brought Eurachis to street light after street light, purposeful strides guiding him to what would be the capital city's premier night club.

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((Club Vibes - Music for writing:Club Praxica Ambient))

However, unlike typical nightclubs that littered urban collectives all over the galaxy, this club catered, like a select few in some distant systems to a clientele that often demanded a certain bit of clout for entry. Club Praxica, known by the locals as Prax was one such upscale hangout. Seedy, reputable, and very prominent people knew of the scene and when able made themselves seen, and so the ex-darth would do the same. Thanks to his associate Janus Solari, Eurachis had copped a Hunters pass given sparingly to those whom the owner deemed responsible and quiet enough to handle guild business without harmful interference in the mood and atmosphere of the club as a whole.

The cadre of people massing in lines outside the club held true to its premier status, Prax was busy this evening as it likely would be the next few nights. The jovial feeling would float through the club until a veritable storm of words exploded out of the coutroom case when a judgment was eventually reached in the coming days. Until then this, like several other spots the man had designated, would suffice as a distraction and hopefully present opportunities in the forms of information and new acquaintances. Eurachis slid his pass out from his inner vest pocket and ran it under the scanner at the door, skipping past several now complaining party-goers who'd still seen no movement in the line. With a curt nod from security, the outcries from those behind him who he'd cut infront of quietly faded as the heavy atmospheric trills of bass and laughter within boomed over them. minutes later, the previous Darth, a man who stood at the helm of the sith imperial fleet, founding inner sanctum member of the order on Korriban, and who's battle tactics and personal vendetta had brought the death of many jedi blades, leaned back into the plush cushion of the clubs many sofas. Reaching to his right, raising a smooth round glass with a green and blue semi-viscous substance, Eurachis smirked.

"Ok Prax, show me what there is..," he chided softly before sliding the smooth rim of the glass past his lips and sipping the heavy alchoholic mixture.

[Rugs]

Karn lay across his bed, staring at the datapad in his hands. He reread the brief message for what felt like the thousandth time. It was short, to the point and with the heaviest encryption he could put on it. It said everything he wanted it to say, as far as openings went. There was more to say when he got a response.

If I get a response. Karn’s stomach tied itself into knots.

He lifted a slender finger, to press ‘send,’ but hesitated again. What if he doesn’t respond? There went that thought, for the thirtieth time in the last ten minutes.

What if he’s dead?

By all rights, Karn shouldn’t have cared whether Kath was alive or dead. Kath was a Jedi, and he was a Sith. Mortal enemies, at least on paper. But they’d been anything but, in that citadel on Khar Delba with its Force-awful trials. Karn should have held a grudge against Kath, who’d granted him the thin lightsaber scar that crossed his chest — and a wound that still occasionally ached, despite ongoing bacta treatment — when they fought over Sadow’s holocron.

But Kath had saved him, even after the fought. Even when he’d been on the verge of freezing to death.

In spite of what he knew he should feel, Karn desperately hoped Kath had found a way off of Khar Delba.

Stay calm, he chided himself. For once, he couldn’t let his emotions run wild. Viren was on world with him. Though his Master was busy, he couldn’t risk letting his feelings betray him.

Not for this.

Karn took a deep breath and, before he could talk himself out of it again, hit ‘Send.’ The datapad’s chirp of confirmation did nothing to settle his stomach as he set his head on his folded forearms and watched the sun set over Soldon.

---

Some while later, Karn wandered Soldon’s streets. Another day gone without a verdict in the ongoing arbitration. The Galaxy would have to hold its breath at least one more day. Once the verdict came? Anything could happen.

Karn was dressed neatly, in a stylish outfit of grey and white cut neatly to his slender figure. He wore a small bronze pin on his collar, marking his position as a member of the Sith Order’s Cult of Strife.

Tonight, the ivory Arkanian headed to Club Praxica, Soldon’s premier nightclub. He wasn’t sure what, exactly, drew him on, other than a chance to get out and get some drinks in him. If he were going to, why not in one of the best venues the city had to offer?

The line of people trying to cram into Club Praxica posed no threat to him; his position as the Praetor Magnus’ apprentice came with perks, and soon enough, he was ushered in through a VIP entrance. Near as soon as he set foot in the club, he felt a powerful someone lurking within.

Karn’s brows furrowed as he ordered some glowing green drink from the bar. For a time, he thought to ignore it; there were plenty of Jedi and Sith on Prazhi at the moment. That presence, though — that was no Jedi, and it felt like no Sith’s that he recognized.

And so, despite his intentions to resist, he found himself drawn on, to the tall man seated on a sofa. He had a manner about him that suggested he was important, though Karn couldn’t place his finger on why.

“So,” he said, “ finding a seat for himself opposite the stranger, “didn’t think to feel a presence like that in here.” He looked to the man, white eyes curious. “Who are you?”

[Dire Wolf]

From the moment the Jedi had tried to lay her bones to rest in the Republic Embassy, it stirred within her. A heavy beat that lay just beyond the fringes of her mind, yet it was felt more than heard. Stranger still, she could tell its source was not within her mind. It lay in a direction--the end of which she couldn't say. Long minutes were spent silently protesting and pleading with the inanimate field of energy that urged her into the city rather than sleep, and after slipping into clothing long minutes more were spent cursing the cruking Force for not letting her sleep. In spite of every protest though, the beat remained. Had it not persisted for well over forty five minutes by that point, perhaps she'd have found herself nodding to the beat as she walked.

It was beyond sense, but these things so often were. Rhissai had been attuned to the Force for long enough to know when it wanted her somewhere, whether or not that place made sense or not. Each step in the direction of her feeling had brought with it a growing sense of unease. The Jedi Master's destination, she felt, was not a place but a person. A welcome goal to be sure, and something to chew on other than the existential threat of impending galactic war indeed, yet there was a familiar presence growing with each meter. There was a certain darkness to it, yet it was far less dreadful than the Sith that had fallen to her blades. The woman's feet guided her ever onward, still, until she reached the fascade of a nondescript building. Even from without, she could tell that the pulsating music inside had matched the rhythmic beat that had urged her onward for an hour.

"Are you serious," she muttered to the night.

Silence was her answer.

---

Entering the club had been mercifully easy thanks to a pair of off duty Republic soldiers who had decided to do most of the waiting for her. They'd both served with her in the previous conflict with the Sith, and were eager to help her upon hearing of the little journey. Instead of waiting what she guessed would've been an hour or two to get in, barely fifteen minutes had come and gone before she stepped inside. Another disquiet wave of sensation struck her upon crossing into the building; the presence she felt was indeed familiar. Yet, it was also hidden from her. Veiled, not by the source but by something greater. Enough life and emotion flitted and danced within the building that she was surprised to feel anything at all, and wouldn't have if not for her training. While she might not have been particularly overwhelmed by the sea of emotion that filled the club, attempting to find any one person would be akin to sorting a needle out of a haystack.

Best to approach things the old fashioned way. Master Arckan's brow furrowed with determination as she split from her friends to find the bar, where a few credits were exchanged for her drink of choice. A viscous blue concoction had been poured into a waiting cylindrical glass and passed into her waiting hand, her palm immediately greeted by the warmth of the liquor through the cup. Aphithiri had a keen enjoyment of bittersweet drinks, and she was no different. And yet, just before the tall woman had brought the cup to her lips, she saw it. She saw him.

That heavy beat dulled into an obscure part of her consciousness, as though she'd suddenly fallen into a frigid pool. Green eyes glistened in the multicolored light; the woman dared not rip them away from the tall man she'd not seen in years. Not since Rhen Var had fallen, and his betrayal of her had come to a head. Ramseye -- or Darth Eurachis -- was a Sith. The Sith. They'd once been intimate, before then. Upon seeing him at the head of a Sith Armada, Rhissai had allowed her wrath to get the better of her. Their fight was legendary, and ended with him casting her down the side of a mountain and into the boreal winds. She spun on her heel, back towards the bar, and reached for the cup of blue liquid only to find that it had slipped from her hand. Glass and liquor had slid across the floor to be stepped on by the random patrons.

Fortunately, with a barely a thought, she pulled the stray shards into a pile with the Force and lifted them into a napkin. A self deprecating smile found her lips before ordering a second drink. This one just as blue, and with a napkin on the side to help her not drop it. Rhissai took only a moment to collect herself. Another glance. Rams-eurachis looked the same as he had nearly a decade prior, though that might have been her own long-lived culture adding a skew to her eye. The time for glancing and appraising was over, though; time to act her age.

Graceful steps carried her willowy form deftly through the crowd, her keen senses trained on the man who was once a Darth. At least insofar as Republic intelligence could gather. A slender smile formed at her lips even as another man approached Eurachis. An Arkanian of her height, though he was far more narrow than she. A babe in the woods, no doubt. The pale man's words marked him as one that hadn't known who he spoke to. The pale man's presence marked him as a Sith, or a Dark Sider at the very least. This was Prazhi, though, and tensions were too high to start a fight in a nightclub. Wordlessly, and with a slender smile still on her face, Rhissai Arckan slid into the cluster of seats that the duo found themselves in to sit in one of the plush seats. "This man," she watched the slender man before turning to face Eurachis, "is Ramseye Novok."

[Ash]

Ash had a feeling he was one of the only forces users on this planet who wasn't aligned with either the Sith nor Jedi. He knew he wasn't but he was probably one on the stronger side of things. He was mostly here to observe the trial and everything, which was going immensely slow.

Due to all the anti weapons and violence and crap, Ash left his armor and weapons on his ship, after having his ship checked over and his weapons checked in. He felt somewhat naked outside of his armor, but it was nice. To hide his paler skin, the man chose to wear black clothing accented by reds and purples, same as his armor's color. After today's trial, however, the man didn't feel like hanging around his ship.

Instead, the former Jedi made his way to a fancier looking establishment. Subtly using the force, he made his way in with a group of other people, waltzing in as if he were with them, or officially with the Jedi or Sith. And for over an hour the man sat at a the bar, sipping on his Corellian Ale of choice.

All was quiet until.... A Sith? Sure feels like it. There was the feeling of the darkside nearing and entering the area and Ash pulled himself inwardly, not masking his force presence, as he wasn't very skilled at fully hiding himself, but rather making it seem like he wasn't quite as strong as he truly was, hiding his strength and tucking it away. Sith never worried much about hiding that they were around. Just adding more to the force pool gathering in the area.

Ash didn't want to get involved with the politics of the Sith or Jedi, as glancing over at the Sith, looked like they decided to sit together. Not only that but another walked to them, and they didn't seem much like a Sith. They were... different. Jedi? Probably.

Ash paid his tab and went to leave, walking by the group, before the woman spoke a name. Ramseye Novok. That was the name of a former Sith that Ash had mentally written off his list over the past few years. Force users were constantly being killed off on both sides.

"Novok... formally known as... Eurachis? Thought he vanished when Empress Renata took the throne but seems as if I was mistaken..."

Bright blue eyes, purple rings around them barely visible these days, looked down at the Siths, then flicked to the Jedi and then glanced at the group in its entirety. My my, what today didn't bring in the trial, it certainly brought here.

[Necro Stormborn]

Thick bass filled the doldrums of boring conversation as people wizzed by, some gossiping, others talking of off-world matters, and fewer discussing business. The beat hung in the air like a pounding, thunderous thump....thump...thump. Leaning against the chair, Eurachis enjoyed a second solitary sip from his Nautolan Sunrise as his eyes darted from one side of the room to another. something felt familiar in the air, but it wasn't in the club, and definitely not in this room. There was a sinking feeling in his gut for a moment as the previous Sith warlord tried to place who it could be. As eyes squinted at nothing in the darkened club, and brow furrowed into confusion, the moment was slapped from his thoughts faster than it had been brought on. A voice hearkened his attention back to the hear and now, as a pale Arkanian clad in what passed for Sith regalia pressed into his sightline of the bar and a beautiful yellow-skinned twilek. Blinking, coupled with a deep inhale for a moment to register someone's voice, Eurachis shifted his eyes to the man slowly pushing past the table and into the plush cushioned chair across from him. A sly grin fashioned itself to the Ex-Darth as he raised a brow processing the question he'd been asked. Raising his glass, he nodded showing approval and appreciation for the company, as he prepared to answer the question.

"..Important? Mayhaps I was once... I'd like to think I stil---." Words trailed as the sinking feeling hit hard again, this time his gut fell completely, and deep self loathing and nihilistic urges tightened his grip on the glass he was raising to the Arkanian, as his jaw shifted in silence, biting hard to swallow the moment. Shifting in his chair he eyed the source...It was her alright. Many years had passed since Eurachis had lain eyes on Rhissai, he'd thought her dead-- by his own hand--and yet here she was. Very much alive.

The tall woman strode with confidence across the club and cut past several dancing debutantes, positioning herself across from the aged Caridan prince. Eyes shifting back to the Arkanian while his posture straightened, considering the question again of who he was. The pause ended swiftly as the distraction answered for him. "Hmm.." Eurachis nodded as he heard his birth name, leaning back slightly and eyeing her smile, feeling maybe she wasn't here to try for revenge. A subtle exhale let loose some stress as he considered how he was on this planet to bring back sins of the past and here she was, likely doing the same to him. While Rhissai seated herself across from both him and the Arkanian, Ramseye pushed away his uncomfortable feelings reminding himself that he was still plenty capable at handling her, and likely any other who might try to break the peace if he needed. There was more to it though, he also remembered she'd always been a shrewd jedi, and she'd know better than to come here to pick a fight. That relief allowed him to adjust his posture more loosely as his eyes flowed silently, but noticeably, over her form. She was still beautiful, he couldn't deny that.

Before he could cut through the tension and address both of the unique individuals who'd situated themselves around and across from him, a third voice piped through the thumping rhythms of the club and drew Eurachis's gaze. Head pivoting curiously like a hungry domesticated kath hound, Ramseye stared. This newcomer felt somewhat similar to Rhissai... perhaps a jedi. there wasn't enough anger or emotion filled in this individual that was customary with sith or Naval officers of the empire. The colors of purple and red drew the eye, but the words are what kept that curiosity. This man had been around, or was a student of history. When the third individual, who'd stopped to address the three of them in passing finished with his kurt interjection, an outstretched hand and a nod from Eurachis beckoned the passerby to stay, and sit with them. Clearly he knew of the old, perhaps he could assist with the new as well.


Addressing all three of them Eurachis brought his leg up, resting the right heel of his high brow shoe on his left knee as he let the Blueish-green drink slink quietly down against the end table to his right. licking his lips and taking a protracted silence he finally started in.

"Well... Praxica didn't dissappoint. That is indeed who I am. Formerly Darth Eurachis, Dark Lord of the Sith, Warlord of the Imperial Sith Fleet, and founding Inner Sanctum member. I'm also that same Caridan Prince, Ramseye of house Novok. You..." Hard eyes focused on Rhissai but were softened by a smile, "Rhissai... I'm surprised your alive..that was a terribly long fall was it not? I'm glad. The order's better with you in it...though I imagine you have questions. I most certainly do, I mean look at you, haha, fit as ever. As for you two..", addressing the Arkanian sithling and what appeared to be a jedi in coats of red and purple. "You're both welcome to sit, and drink with me. I've been out of the loop a bit and I think there is much that can be gained when the drinks are flowing."

Eyes shifted from the standing passerby to the vacant sofa festooned with colorful shawls that sparkled in the clubs constantly shifting luminescence. "Please...let us indulge our curiosities, and when you're both ready why don't you tell me exactly who you two are, now that we are all acutely aware of whom i am."

[Rugs]

Karn was not, it seemed, the only person drawn by this man’s presence. No sooner had the question left his lips than some woman arrived, answering it for him. Ramseye Novok. Karn’s brow knit, searching his memory. No, that name didn’t ring any bells.

Then another came — some man who decided that he too would insert himself into the conversation. The name he spoke, however, struck a match in Karn’s memory.

Darth Eurachis. Ah yes. That name, Karn knew. Every Sith who’d called the Order home for any period of time — and it had been his for nearly half his life — knew that name. Even before Eurachis listed off his achievements, his positions, Karn knew them.

A former Warlord, and one of the triumvirate under Iniquitous — in tandem with the former Darth Novus and now Her Radiance, Darth Renata — who prosecuted the war against the Republic. Other Dark Lords had briefly risen, but their stars — like that of the recent Grand Prophet, Darth Keres, faded early — left no legacy behind.

As far as Karn was concerned, a Sith that left no legacy was beneath consideration.

“Yes, I know you,” he said as Eurachis — or was it just Ramseye now? — finished speaking. “Well, know of you.”

Karn was aware of the others, aware of this woman — Rhissai, Eurachis named her — and the stink of the Jedi Order’s light radiating from her presence. But this was neutral ground, and as long as she took no aggressive action toward him, he’d take none toward her.

The other, the man, felt more muddled. Karn did not know who he was, nor did he care. He glanced at them as Eurachis asked after their identities, but his curiosity remained almost wholly on the former Sith as he downed the last of his green drink and set the empty glass on the table.

“I am Karn Albrecht,” he said simply. “Apprentice to Darth Viren.” Perhaps that was the source of his curiosity; Eurachis seemed a precursor, of sorts, to the Praetor Magnus.

“You left the Order, after Her Radiance’s unification.” Karn leaned forward casually, elbows on this thighs and hands clasped together as he studied Eurachis. Even before he spoke the question, his expression — his focus, the subtle narrowing of his milk-white eyes — made it obvious.

“Why?”

[Dire Wolf]

'Okay so that was smooth,' Rhissai smirked even as her weight settled against the back of the plush seat. It wouldn't have required her keen sight to notice the expression shift on his face when he'd caught sight of her; as though the great and powerful Darth Eurachis had seen a ghost. Though she looked cool and collected on the exterior, she swore every pump of her heart might have been audible from beneath her rib cage. Rather than do her best to look cavalier in that very public situation, the woman stole a moment to press the cool glass of liquor to her lips. While it was great to hide behind, the bitter sweet beverage served to both center her and soothe her nerves.

Mercifully, a passerby stopped at the mention of Ramseye's birth name. This stranger was a welcome contrast to the pair who she sat with; one swirling with far more emotion than even his shocked visage could convey, and the other no doubt a misguided soul who fell in with the Sith. It was a sad life to live: too mired in passion and the Dark Side to enjoy anything but humanity at its worst. At least that's what the Jedi had tried to preach to her. Eurachis had taught her differently, years ago. "I think we ought to leave title and rank out of this conversation, no?" Inquisitive eyes looked back to the more Jedi of the bunch, a warm smile pressed to her lips. "We're not Jedi or Sith, here." A graceful hand was first extended to the Arkanian Sith before it found its way over to the Morellian. Destined for intergalactic war the Republic and the Empire may have been, but that wasn't a reason to abandon civility.

"I'm Rhissai," an odd name, one born of an utterly alien language, yet one known to most in the Jedi and the Sith. She and Master Took had been the tip of the spear against the Sith Empire in the earliest days of the war. After Rhen Var, she'd been mysteriously wounded for the better part of the fighting. That was long ago, though; now she was a mere Jedi Master. "And I'd like to know who I'm drinking with." Another sip of the bittersweet liquor brought followed the question. Karn's response had coaxed her brow upwards, "The Praetor Magnus himself. A shame about the previous one. He was surprisingly pleasant." She'd shared a drink with the blue fellow during the deliberations over the Archeri. Keleen had been down to Earth and approachable, not to mention willing to help her stop a barroom blitz.

Ramseye was the next to speak. Memories of that damned ice planet weren't pleasant. A week of agonizing climbing was spent; ascending a mountain on broken limbs is no picnic. "A series of short falls, actually," a throbbing took her arm, as though the arm that suffered a compound fracture had heard his comment. Even so, she couldn't help but chuckle at what continued, "I don't think the Order would agree with you." The smile left behind by her amusement may have lingered, but her voice held a hint of bitterness. Every day saw her discontentment with the Jedi and their antics grow; if they hadn't been the best vector to help people she might have full departed long ago.

"For what it's worth, I tried to contact you after I escaped Rhen Var. The number was," she sighed a little, "not available to my region." Figures that a holonet address would be region locked between two warring states. She brushed locks of jet black hair back behind her ear, eyes not once straying from his. Those eyes had been so sorrowful the last time that they'd met, and her demeanor had been utterly baleful. What pain she must have caused him, knowing that their last moments were so filled with hate and vitriol on her end, while his were those of mourning. A stray tendril of thought slipped through her adamantine psionic fortifications just as her eyes strayed away.

Rhissai's voice would only be a whisper in his own mind, and she'd take care to make it the only telepathic communique of the evening; it was rude to speak minds while others were present, after all.

I'm sorry.

[Ash]

Deciding to play nice, Ash tooked the offered seat, and he sat down. Grabbing the attention of a waitress, he asked for a beer, and it was quickly brought over during the little Sith Brat's questioning. Karn was his name. The apprentice of one of the current Sith Lords. Darth Viren. Ash didn't have the... honor of meeting that particular Sith yet.

Next up it was the Jedi. Rhissai. He knew of her, but he didn't think he met her. He studied her for a moment before brushing her off. During his time as an instructor he could have met up with her before, but right now he didn't really care.

"Ash Valeros. Former Jedi Master and instructor."

Short, sweet, and to the point. He leaned back and took a drink from his beer, a nice long pull that emptied about have the mug, which was of a decent size. One could tell, should they decide to notice, that he was no stranger to drinking.

Rhissai decide to continue talking, mentioning a mission about Rhen Var. That was a conversation better left elsewhere in Ash's opinion. But obviously she and their new former Sith friend had some serious history together. Would she want to reconnect back with him and leave the order? Now there was a thought. Ash turned his eyes back to Eurachis, anticipating his answers to the questioning Sith Brat and the Jedi.