Log:Sith Empire: Beneath a Demon Moon

The Imperials are welcomed with a feast.

OOC Date: January 3, 2025
Location: Iziz, Onderonian Royal Palace
Participants: Alys Zapal, Klaes Roosken, Roan, Aryn Cortess

The Siege of Iziz was intended to be the start of a large campaign, but when the rebel commanders found Sith Lords stepping between them and the Mandalorian despots, well the tone of the battle had changed. Enemy units retreated as the main force collapsed, scattering to the winds.

A day had passed since then, and the Despot of Onderon sought to welcome the Imperials with open arms and in proper tribute within the palace. A social event was organized where soldiers from the Imperial armed services showed up in uniform. Cocktails, entertainment, and a small feast from a fresh hunt decorated much of the outer terrace beneath the start of evening. The sky, still painted in gold and purple clouds from a setting sun had the emerald look 'Demon' moon of Dxun to contend, as it occupied much of the night view glaring down upon Onderon and offering a once in a lifetime view.

Music played, and dancers both male and female, danced in skimpy outfits jingling little bells and rattling beads.

Near the center of it all, a gathering was forming around a large 'council fire', with seats that were stationed in a large circle and far enough away to avoid the annoying trail of smoke and the overbearing touch of heat.

The Despot of Onderon, a Mandalorian, stood near one side of the circle. His Princess bride stood separate of the gathering, glaring from the high up terrace toward the distant lakes where light from the moon glimmered upon the water's wave tops.

Darth Kalus had only just arrived, her vessel an Upsilon craft with large wings that folded upward in order to land. She came down the ramp wearing an elegant yet black ensemble with a cape to cover her shoulders. She made her way to the party escorted (or joined) by an entourage of other Imperials looking to make merry, enjoy the evening, and find drinks. Kalus' hope was to speak with Talion Kast (the despot) about the Empire's mission.

Alys, not quite a Darth yet (she's working on it), arrives with Kalus. Unlike her superior in the order, the Acolyte is not dressed fancy. She's wearing what could be considered her usual style with her black hooded robe over it.

At least she was talked out of keeping her hood up.

A small, intense, but quiet woman, she shadows Kalus, being incredibly unobtrusive. As unobtrusive as she can be without calling on certain Force powers that she has been swiftly learning.

The captain of the Dark Pearl Fleet, Lorraine Roan, is in Imperial Dress with a cape over one shoulder. Her hair is tightly styled up for a change, with her Imperial peaked cap shined to perfection. Tall black boots, long black gloves, and more red trim than a Life Day celebration.

Her ship has been darkening the sky for a while now, but, sadly, has fired no salvos down upon the rebel positions. Having a stark and bleak reputation, she's remarkably young and doesn't seem that stand-offish. Just...stiff. Formal. Young Old Money from the Core.

Striding a couple of paces behind Darth Kalus would be General Klaes Roosken, an infantry grunt who rose through the ranks of one military before doing the same again with the Sith's own. His own attire is also black and high-collared, which in turn compliments the black facial tattoos that adorn the green skin of the Mirialan. Hands clasped behind his back, he seems genial at least as he nods to a few of those who were already present, head lightly bowed by way of polite recognition. His blue eyes regard those he arrives with for an instant, though a glance is soon offered to the Despot, ready to issue his own greeting in accordance with rank, position, and so forth. "Quite the reception..." Approving? The warm thrum of his tone seems to make it seem so as he utters the words quietly enough to be heard by those close by.

As the group made their way into the party, the atmosphere felt lighter. Entertainers performed all sorts of tricks, even one blew fire from their mouth as the group passed, briefly illuminating their approach. Walking beside Kalus is a larger, crimson armored Mandalorian wearing the fur of a blood-wolf, its skinned head transformed into a hood that envelops the beskar helmet. Tal-Ulik, or Red Wolf, was a Mandalorian brought on to assist the Empire in navigating Mando'ade customs. When the Red Wolf was spotted by some of Kast's warriors, she was greeted with a loud, <"Su Cuy'gar, Tal Ulik!"> And thus, she left Kalus' side to embrace fellow warriors and speak in their Mando'a language.

The Imperials were greeted by Talion Kast a moment later, where he addresses them in a boisterous voice, a mix of jovial tones and hoarseness, likely from the battle the day before. "WELCOME.. MY LORDS!"

Stepping closer, but not beyond the glow of the council fire, he posed with hands on his hips. "Come, find drinks, and let us speak. I am Alor'Kast, the Despot as they have come to call me. My wife is.. where is she?-- WIFE!"

His wife arrived beside Kast opposite of where he was looking. "I am the Princess Thea." She did not bow or tilt her head. She held no respect for the Empire, or Darth Kalus. "Welcome to what is left of my home, and my people--"

"YES, well, she can really set a mood. --" Kast says, cutting off the Princess. Thea crosses her arms and looks away. Kast continues, "Who do we have the honor of addressing?"

Darth Kalus stepped closer. Close enough she could be a threat to Kast and Thea. Thea stepped back as the dark lord approached, but Kast remained where he was. Offering a gloved hand, Kalus spoke, "I am Queen Aryn from the House Cortess, Alderaan." Kast accepts her hand and bows, placing his lips briefly upon the knuckles of her gloved hand. "A pleasure, your grace."

"Charmed," replied Aryn, who took back her hand once it was released. Turning briefly, she motioned the others to introduce themselves, and Kast waited patiently, a stern but friendly expression on his face. Thea continued to stare away, orienting herself so her back was to the guests.

Klaes stepped forward and bowed respectfully, heels coming together with a gentle click, and with quite the dash of formality. Though with that brief moment of formality offered, he stepped forward again and reached out to clasp the warrior's forearm, a good and firm grip no doubt from both sides. "General Klaes Roosken at your service." A firm squeeze, a nod and the Mirialan steps to the side and regardless of the direction that the Princess is facing, he still offers a formal bow by way of respect, not moving to dominate her field of vision and politely offering it so at the very least it is heard and seen to be offered. "Your Highness, regardless of the outcome and ones thoughts. My respects are offered all the same." The gentle baritone rumbling offered with no malice or spite, merely formality and some measure of martial respect.

Stepping forward with firm military poise, Roan still can't quite capture the gravitas of elder officers. So it is that she offers a formal curtsey to the loud Mando--looking a little too young, a little too curvy, and a little too close to be the fearsome captain that has been mauling the Rebel forces lately.

Head down, peaked cap polished and gleaming, she says in a light Coruscanti accent, "Captain Lorraine Roan, of the Dark Pearl Fleet, your eminence." A hand isn't offered, but one is kept near enough to be taken without offense, should the Despot so choose.

Purple eyes flicker between the crowd, the General, and the other Sith Lord. She is seemingly always wary, ready to react to impending violence whether or not it's actually coming. She shrugs a little in her robe, clearly at least a -little- uncomfortable with the crowd full of unknowns and potential threats.

When they're greeted by the Despot and his reluctant wife, her head tilts. She watches the other two introduce themselves to the Despot, and can't help but feel a little ... disgusted by the glad-handing. Sure, these are Mandalorians, but they now owe the Empire a favor. "Acolyte Alys Zapal," she says quietly. Her eyes, though, slide past the despot to the wife. She can -feel- her anger and resentment without even trying. It's ... fascinating.

"General," Kast says, returning the firm shake with an approving nod. "Welcome to Onderon."

Briefly, Captain Roan /stole/ Talion's gaze, he had to double-take to ensure he saw whatever it was he saw. An approving nod, but no hand to show affection, he kept a respectful distance, but the curvy Captain received a long stare from Kast. "Welcome, Captain. If you need anything, do let me know." He nodded, and moved toward Alys, stepping between her view of Thea. "Acolyte," he echoed. "I am told the siege fell due to your leadership. We Mando'ade take the merit of deeds seriously." Drawing an item from his belt, he offered it to her. It appeared to be the rebel rank insignias taken from the commanders who fell to Zapal's assault. "Trophies, should you place value in such trinkets. Let it serve as proof that should the day come that I can provide you a service, you need but call and I will answer."

Kast offered a parting nod and motioned for the staff to begin setting out the food. "COME.. eat, let us enjoy this cool evening!"

Aryn turns slightly to accept a glass of brandy from a tray, and watches Thea, who dismissed herself to return to her perch by the terrace's edge and stare out at the distant lake.

Kast is near by collecting food from the fresh hunt on a plate.

For a brief moment, Aryn bids the Imperials quietly, "Go.. discover what you can about these people. Speak with whoever you think may provide insight into our mission.."

It is not long before Aryn is taken to one side by a group of nobles and cut off from talking to Kast.

Taciturn and cautious, Roan doesn't seem eager to engage with the guests. She nods, she answers questions, and politely disengages. Each step away draws her closer to Talion Kast, and she seems to get boxed in constantly by well-meaning socializers.

Wide-eyed, serious, and diplomatically reserved, she crosses one knee in front of the other, with her back to Kast. Then she's bending down to fix a kicked-up boot cuff. Then she's leaning over the food table next to him to pick a precarious portion.

And then someone *else* is coming to talk to her, and Roan finds herself with nowhere else to go, blocked in by beskar, blustering, and boasting.

Alys's head tilts the other direction as she looks at the Princess Bride of the Despot. The Force moves in her and, for an instant, connects their minds. She learns things, though it's more like confirms them. A flicker of something crosses her face for an instant. Sympathy? It's hard to say, it's gone as quickly as it arrives.

Which is a good thing, since the Despot himself offers trophies. The petite woman accepts them, looking up at the 'ruler' of this planet. "I did what I must to ensure our mission is successful," she says. No honorifics, no gladhanding. Just quietly spoken and straightforward.

When Kalus bids them to spread out and socialize, she hides a grimace as she slips the rank insignias in a pouch on her belt under her robe. Her eyes flicker across the assembled, and she attempts to slip away to go speak with Thea undetected.

A glass of brandy is claimed and held within his light green grasp, Klaes focus isn't exactly on drinking. More so the appearance of it. A nod is offered but once to Darth Kalus as he steps away. That pristine black uniform of his certainly cutting the usual martial dash that such uniforms do, even as he approaches the Tal Ulik, indeed taking a somewhat circuitous route to ensure that they aren't blindsided by his approach. "Quite the fellow, the Despot." Though his face remains somewhat stoic, offering no true hint one way or another as to what his actual thoughts are. Of course, being something of a career soldier. "How do you think it would have gone had we not intervened? Sieges are quite something aren't they?"

It is not long before Kast cuts into the conversation with Roan. The well-meaning beast rider takes the hint, offering a charming departing, "Fight well, Captain."-- "So," Kast says. "Finding what you need, Captain Roan?" He looks over the table she is at, particularly to see if her hands are occupied. Had she not any success in finding drinks? Food? Surely there was plenty about. He finds her gaze and holds it, a charming expression forming.

Tal-Ulik is just pulling her helm off when the General approaches. She stands, easily, at 6'1, crimson armor, and adorned in a small armory of weapons. Despite it all, her body language is welcoming. Blonde hair falls in place to shape her fair face, and blue eyes settle upon the General holding the brandy. She hooks one arm over her helm for the time being, and when prompted to speak about Alor'Kast, her eyes spy the tall Alor from a distance. "He is interesting." She confirms with a nod. "I believe Kast would have won, regardless. His Mandalorians are professional warriors, and for once, they had battlements and terrain that favored their defensive strategy."

"Do you know of the ongoing conflict here, sir?"

Blink. Roan finds herself staring up at Kast like deer encountering a bear. Arms together just so, the captain's chest hovers a bit over her guarded plate, which has a few fancy little treats on it. When the expression shifts from helpful to charming, Roan's eyebrows rise a little higher in surprise, and a red blush starts to spread across her cheeks. "Um, yes. Sir. Your eminence." Clearing her throat with a lightning-fast glance to the side, she looks back up at him, "All of the...cauldrons seemed busy, so..." She slowly turns her gaze toward one of the pseudo-mead kettles, which is, to be fair, swarming with mandos.

Up close, Roan can see that Kast is an older man, maybe early 50s. One might argue he is still within his prime, though salt and pepper have taken over the shade of his once proud black head of hair. A well-trimmed mustache accentuates the lines of wisdom in his face, and hard staring yet charming blue eyes take in the act, not quite seeing it for what it was, and accepting the Captain at face value. In fact, he seemed surprised, though he did not comment.

At the mention of mead being unavailable, he turned his gaze and motioned toward the gaggle of Mandos. A moment later, a tankard arrives, and he passes it to her. "Just Kast, or Talion is fine," he amends, not entirely in love with the honorifics that came from being the Despot of a Kingdom. Unable to discern much about the Captain, Kast asks in a lower, graveled tone, "What is it you seek, Captain?"

One moment, Alys was there in the crowd of feasters and revelers. The next, she had backed into the shadow of a nearby column or decorative plant and simply was not there anymore. Indeed, unless there were Jedi or other practitioners present, the only one with even a chance of finding her is Kalus. She's real busy, though.

The Acolyte slips through, bypassing any guards. Any watchers. Unhurriedly, she makes her way up through the palace, finding a path to where Thea is brooding and watching the unwanted festivities below. She esconses herself in a shadow and watches the woman for a long moment before she lets the shroud of the Force go.

"Your Highness," she says quietly. "I know you hate him. Maybe you even hate it here. If you help ensure that we get what we want on your planet, -I- can ensure that you get what you want. Though there may be more ... paperwork than you would like."

"..what I want?" Thea echoes back to the Acolyte after turning slightly to regard the Sith. There is a moment of internal thought as the Princess processes this, and her gaze settles on the distant blonde royal, Queen Aryn. "Would you kill her for me?"

"She.. ruined my life. She.. orchestrated all of this with her /damned/ Knight of Tears..."

I am aware of what has filtered through the various reports, though there is certainly an underlying tension between Her Highness and the Despot and why indeed did the rebels take up arms?" Klaes asks curiously, head tilted lightly to the side as if listening in on other conversations and remaining aware of his surroundings, though his focus is certainly upon the Advisor. "What exactly did we stumble into? In your own words as opposed to the filtered bureaucracy one tends to receive in reports." He almost looks as if he is to take a sip, no doubt a pretence. But the glass pauses a scant few inches from his lips, and is once again lowered to before him.

Accepting the tankard in both hands, Roan takes a long drink while keeping her eyes on Kast. At his question, the captain answers earnestly, "I'm here to assist the Empire and its allies in any way needed." Taking another drink of the mead--it *is* quite good after all!--Roan shrugs, her hips shifting from one side to the other. "The Acolyte and her fighter squadrons made short work of the Rebel defenders, however, so the Dark Pearl is currently standing idle."

A third drink, but shorter than the other two, and Roan is already half-way through the small barrel in her hands. "I am sorry I was not able to offer additional support in securing your throne, y--Kast."

As she listens to what Thea wants, it's like a holo-recording goes distorted for a second, screeching everything to a blazing halt. "Dar--Cor-- *She* made you marry him?" This is honestly the first real emotion that Alys has felt that wasn't contempt, hatred, or frustration in a long while. Confusion and befuddlement just tastes strange. She looks down at Darth Queen and shakes her head. "This makes no sense. If she arranged this, why would we need permission to search?"

The Sith shakes her head. "I cannot kill her for you," she says plainly. "I am not powerful enough to contest her." She looks down at the party, staying as hidden as she can so as to not draw attention. "I could absolutely kill your husband, though. I even -would-. I wonder if he's actually powerful, or just savvy..."

"Before you, General, is a forced peace. For thousands of years, the Mandalorians have occupied the Demon Moon, Dxun. For thousands of years, they have endured the beasts, and relentless abuse of Onderon. Killing Mando'ade, displaying their armor as trophies within the halls of this very palace, enslaving Mandalorian children and poisoning them against their own kin."

"Kast was no different. His son was enslaved by the King, her Highness' father, and made a mockery. I liberated his son, with the help of an Alderaanian Knight, and returned him to Kast. He launched an assault during the season of the Demon Moon, when the atmospheres joined. Mando'ade left the moon by jetpack, and fell to Iziz, conquering the palace. Kast executed the King and forced the Princess into a union. He would not allow her to become Queen, much like he is not King. But, their children would be. Sharing the blood of Mandalorian and Onderon. Kast sought to put an end to a feud through blood, and settle wrongs done to his family. The tension you sense, well.." Sana (the Red Wolf) breathes in, pausing.. "..is to be expected in their kind of.. arrangement."

Kast chuckles, "The throne is not mine. I see no need to sit upon such a thing. To command, and lead, it should be from the front. Not from a seat." Kast says, gesturing with a free hand. Cutting to the chase, he adds, "We were told the Empire seeks something of value in our lands. What is it?"

To be expected." A grey brow arches lightly in agreement with that sentiment. "Intrigue. Bloodshed. Settled wrongs. More grievances. At least things are never dull." The faintest twitch upon his lips is offered as Klaes casts his gaze from the Advisor, to Kast and Roan and then to the Princess and Alys. "A savvy fellow then given his life is no doubt in constant peril." The glass of brandy makes its usual migration northwards before being swirled and held to his side by way of a gesture, only then to be lowered once more. "Honoured has been restored in these halls then." He nods.

Roan shrugs lazily, the mead seeming to loosen up her rigid stance by inches. "I assumed you already knew. We have been scanning the planet, but not for anything in particular." Roan starts to wander off, still talking to Kast over her shoulder while her hips sway lazily. "Though I was very surprised we didn't receive orders to soften the Rebel positions further following their withdrawal.

Leading the way like a pendulum through the crowd, Roan cuts the way before her, doing her best to keep Talion on a leash. "Are you...*sure* you have no idea what the Queen is after?" Her Coruscanti accent grows a bit thicker as she gets to three-fourths down into the tankard. Then she stops and looks up at him, eyebrows furrowed and voice quiet, "And let me turn your question back on you! What is it *you* are looking for, if not a throne to fill?"

Thea smiles when her request unsettles the Acolyte. It is not a charming smile, but predatory. She enjoys causing others to be off balanced, and it gives her some sense of power. "A shame." Said with an accompanying sigh.

"No, she is not the architect behind the marriage. That was all /his/ doing. She simply set things in motion. Her Knight.. and that one.." She blatantly points toward the Red Wolf, "..stole something that belonged to me. Something that put him on the path he is on today. To think I am to mother.. -savages-." The last word is whispered.

"You want to kill him? Do it. He is there.. now. Guard down. What do you stand to gain from him anyway, hmm? I could grant you everything you wanted. Everything.."

"Yes," Sana answers the General. "Honor has been restored. Vengeance made. It is all an ugly thing. -- The rebels you asked about. They are loyalists to the Princess. Vassals who had a path to the throne, most likely. Each believes if they can kill Kast, they will take his place at her side, and Onderon will return to its former self."

"Their purpose is weakened by the fact each rebel outfit competes with the others. They are not united in cause."

"There are Sith ruins on this planet," she replies to the captive Princess. "We merely wish to study them. We came to seek permission and walked into a raid. I made a decision to cut the rebels down." She shrugs indifferently. "They were closest."

Alys goes quiet, studying this woman. The corner of her mouth twitches upwards slightly. "A pity you are not Force Sensitive. You would make an -excellent- Sith," she says by way of compliment. "And if I was to kill him, it would not be here in front of so many who may not need to die today. I would do it as he sleeps. If I wish it, none can find me. He would be dead, a knife in his eye, and I would be gone before anyone knew."

"I have some idea of what you seek, yes. I wanted it confirmed. -- The truth is, I am happy to grant the Empire what it wants. The crux of the issue is something you already mentioned. I am hesitant to turn the Empire loose because it would seem like I am setting you upon my enemies. The rebels occupy the lands you seek to study." Kast follows. 5R"It would seem dishonest of me to send you all out there to fight /my/ fight."

"I have some idea of what you seek, yes. I wanted it confirmed. -- The truth is, I am happy to grant the Empire what it wants. The crux of the issue is something you already mentioned. I am hesitant to turn the Empire loose because it would seem like I am setting you upon my enemies. The rebels occupy the lands you seek to study." Kast follows Captain Roan.

"It would seem dishonest of me to send you all out there to fight /my/ fight."

"So easily turned against one another given the right incentives... perhaps if you would be ameniable and have the information, I would very much love a run down of each of the rebel contingents, whenever is convenient. It would allow us to better assist the Despot." Klaes asks of the Red Wolf. A passing servant finally ends up with Klaes' unsipped and unsullied brandy. The amber liquid slowly bouncing its way off upon a tray. "I know that those who fought alongside the Despot's soldiers will have been thrilled to fight alongside such able warriors, it will be a memory that each soldier delights in and likely each telling of the story of that battle shall surely be slightly different to the last." A respectful nod follows with regard to the prowess of the Mando'a.

Maintaining her innocence of what the Empire wants from the Despot, Roan's eyebrows lift high, "Lands?" she asks, allowing it to roll rhetorically as if she had just uncovered some deep secret from the Mandalorian usurper.

But then Roan's cup is finally empty, and the flush at her cheeks isn't an act. She's *warm*. Used to crisp, cold hallways and air conditioned quarters, the star captain unclasps her throat clasp. And gives it a yank. Then a hidden button pops. Juuuuust shy of revealing cleavage. She fans herself idly, as if unaware.

"Her Grace has commanded that I assist your mission, General. I am at your command." Turning to face Klaes, the Red Wolf offers her hand in greeting. "I am Sana Ryder." When her hand is returned, the century old soldier glances up toward the night sky. "I am happy to accompany you to whatever vessel within the fleet, provided I have been granted the clearance to do so."

"I know of the ruins you seek. Our beast riders have avoided it for many years believing the grounds to have.. 'negative energies'. I was told a cult even took up residence there. Sorcerers.. like you and your Queen." Thea sneered. "They curried favor with my father, killed some of his enemies, and even cured some of our people using their magic. All they sought in return was isolation, and permission to do as they please on the land."

Thea grows quiet as Alys speaks of murdering her Mandalorian husband. How it would transpire. Thea simply shakes her head. "No. If he is die, I would prefer I be the one to deliver the blow. He has taken many things from me; I would take them back."

Thea looks back out toward the lake and places her hands upon the railing, drawing in a deep breath from the breeze that rustled the skirt of her dress.

One moment, Alys offers to straight murder the Despot, the next, she does a double take. Her eyes blink before they widen, her head tilting as she leans forward a little. She tries to speak, but her mouth has gone dry. She takes a deep breath as she tries to work moisture back into her mouth to speak.

"Forgive me, Your Highness, but I am, apparently, a liar who makes bad jokes."

She takes a step closer. "Or I am much more powerful than I thought. You -are- strong in the Force. Close your eyes. Stretch your feelings out. You should be able to feel my presence."

It's hard to try and have someone do their first contact with the Force. Calm is not the Sith way, and yet, it's the best way to get the untrained to discover their power.

No, that doesn't mean that's the true nature of the Force. Shut up.

Kast takes to leaning, failing to hide his observance of Roan's circumstance. He even laughs as she tries to cool herself. "Perhaps you should find comfort in the fountain plaza below, the spring water pools are chilled and an excellent escape from the heat here on Onderon.."

The suggestion does not overshadow the ask of land, but it takes the front seat for now since Roan is content to distract him.

The offered hand is taken and shaken firmly, with Klaes' gaze following Sana's to the night sky. "Klaes Roosken at your service." His own introduction offered easily enough. "Excellent, I am sure there is much to discuss. Weaknesses to ponder and exploit. A good many fights ahead one imagines, it'll be my privilege to work and fight alongside you." Again his head is gently bowed in a light sideways tilt by way of a respectful gesture. "I'll see that any permissions that are required are granted upon my return, it will be valuable information to have. Thank you."

The young captain looks up at the mention of a chilled pool and her eyebrows shoot up. "That is...fairly tempting, actually." She admits it grudgingly, but then she chuckles, seeming to come back to herself. "But, ah, no." She laughs, the first time she's smiled since she landed on the humid planet. "I do not think the Dark Lady would approve if I stripped down to skivvies with the warlord whose world we are guests on."

But she doesn't know that. Too bad *she* can't just adjust the mystical wi-fi router and ask Queen Aryn. But for now, she'll play hard to get and avoid accidentally ending up in a *real* diplomatic incident.

Thea is surprised by this development, and unsure how to react. She had been present when Lady Panteer used the Force before, and even recalled feeling the act more than just seeing it. She recalled her run in with Ser Ban Iskender, Alderaan's Knight of Tears, when he gripped her throat with nothing but a gesture made in the air, and she began to levitate and choke as if rope squeezed the life from her neck.

She released her feelings all at once. Fear, doubt, hate, anguish, despair.. it all followed like a harboring storm cloud. By focusing on these, Thea could feel in a way she had always felt before. Being sensitive to the Force was not something that just awakened, it was a sense like seeing, feeling, smelling, and tasting. It was always there, it just took a trained mind to discern its properties.

Even though she could feel Alys there, she could also feel a larger presence nearby, too. One that robbed the air from her lungs and turned her stomach. In Thea's mind's eye, she sensed eyes opening and peering upon her. When they narrowed on /her/, she opened her eyes and gasped.

"I.. I think... I.." She stammered, and she looked from Alys and saw that Darth Kalus was watching from afar, her gaze peering over the brim of her brandy glass. "I.. I should probably go." Thea said. Fear manifested in a very primal way.

This may be the most difficult thing Alys has ever done. She has survived in the undercity of Coruscant as a child, she survived brutal, almost cruel training as an Acolyte until she was released to learn on her own. Now, she has to dig deep, somewhere she hasn't touched in more than a decade. A part of her that, if you asked her, she would claim it dead.

She has to find a shred of compassion for this woman.

"She knows, Your Highness," she says quietly. "As sure as I do, she knows now." That's the bad news. Well, 'bad'. "This can be good for you. You can have everything you want," Alys says. "Someday, even her life. All you must do is serve the Empress."

The petite Acolyte steps closer to Thea, reaching a hand out with shocking gentleness. "Become my apprentice. I will teach you how to use the Force. I will show you how to grasp the power within you. I will teach you how to destroy your enemies. One day you -will- be strong enough to take your revenge, and I will help you. All you need to do is accept. Accept. Join the Sith, and you no longer have to worry about your husband or the rebels."

"The pools will not be leaving. When you have permission from your Queen, you may join me there. Until then, Captain.. enjoy your evening." Kast pushed off from his lean and smiled. When he stepped away, the sound of his heavy beskar made distinct bootfalls against the stone, and a protective pair of guards followed, their helmets on and scanning, hands upon their rifles always at the ready. "WIFE.." Kast called out.

"I believe it is time we retire. Bid our guests good evening, Princess." Kast awaited the Princess of Onderon quietly, setting aside his empty drink and donning his helmet.

Unable to form words out of fear. She practically jumped from her own skin when Talion called out to her, and for a moment, her feelings betrayed a sense of relief. He was the devil she knew. "I..I do not know that I can.." She said in a hushed whisper. "I.." and it trailed off when her husband commanded she follow. Though she bid no one good eve, the Princess came when called, and left with the Despot of Onderon.

Darth Kalus watched quietly, ignoring the prattles of the nobles around her.

Finally! Freed of all obligations, Roan can finally dig into that yummy, yummy plate of food she stacked up earlier. Mmm!

Alys did her best. She shakes her head when the Princess says that she can't. She locks eyes with her, intense and focused. "You can. You should. I only offer you freedom."

When the Despot calls and Thea jumps in terror, Aly's eyes shift, sliding from their gemlike purple to the vile red and yellow as the Dark Side floods her. Memories come with it. She's seen that look before so many times. From before she was who she was. From before she was forged into a weapon. Into silent death.

Her hand reaches under her robe and grips the hilt of her lightsaber so hard that it quivers in her palm, the fury nearly overriding sense.

Instead she forces her hand away, lifts her hood and steps back into a shadow, vanishing.