Social/RP thread? Open to all.

[Crosis]

Crosis back from his trip to Ziost once more stalked the grounds of the Sith Academy on Korriban. He made his way into one of the common rooms and took a seat. His large, powerful chest and pectorals heaving with the effort of regulation. He was a tall man, standing at six foot four inches, and heavy with muscle. His eyes were red mixed with the golden hue of Darkside immersion. Decorating his face was a singular scar, though rather it was made from lightsaber or metallic blade; it was nigh impossible to tell. He had no hair and his deep red skinned marked him as a Sith Pureblood. His Lightsaber hung at his waist as he cracked his knuckles and other bones getting comfortable.

Pulling out a flask of water he looked around the common room with his hard gaze and closed his eyes once more to concentrate on cooling down after his workout. The only way after all, to improve ones self is to push yourself to the limit and then go beyond that. After all in the Sith Empire, what doesn't kill you, will make you stronger. Or try to kill you again when they are stronger. Refocusing his thoughts, Crosis concentrated on breathing. In and out, in and out. Slowly the heaving of his barrel like chest become something akin to normal breathing. Crosis ran a hand along his facial appendages, or what for most other species would be a beard and a wicked little smirk crossed his face.

He had dreams and aspirations that were lofty. He wanted to be the greatest Lightsaber dualist of his era. The most powerful Sith in the Imperium. He would sacrifice having a larger Force suite if it meant mastery over all forms of lightsaber combat. After all, he already had a solid grasp of the basics. Telekinesis, Force augmentation, Force Speed, and a very, very, very basic understanding of the rudimentary levels of Force Lightening. In fact the only abilities he believed he needed to compliment his wanting to master lightsaber combat was Lighening, Tutaminis, and being able to strangulate someone through the Force. Not many powers, but the ones he would learn, he would master to prodigious levels or die trying. Crosis let out a deep chuckle as another smile crept across his lips revealing his fangs which glinted in the lighting of the room.

 

[Alphonse Cunningham]

Alphonse walked into the temple as though he'd been there before. He hasn't, nor has he visited any other Sith temple, and had been looking forward to it for a while. The common room was quite empty except for a Sith Pureblood sitting down, trying to look menacing, and some scrawny Acolyte in the corner of the room trying to make an empty cup float using the Force.

A small chuckle escaped his lips as the Acolyte sent the cup flying across the room by accident, and Alphonse used the Force to stop it, then push it back to the youngster.

There weren't many chairs or couches in the room, strangely, and the only empty spot was next to the Pureblood, who kept smiling like an alcoholic in a cantina, or a little kid in a candy shop.

Well, might as well see what's up with him, he thought, and began walking toward the Pureblood.

 

[Crosis]

Crosis watched as the man approached him at his table. His breathing finally getting back to something resembling normal raised his brow at the man. He gestured toward an empty chair at his table and spoke. His deep voice smooth and charming. "If you think that you are worthy human to sit in the company of the pure, then by all means, take a seat. I would have cause to see what brings you to me this evening." Crosis said to the other man, making his views on anyone not of pureblood heritage crystal clear. Crosis made sure not to take his eyes off the approaching person, just in case he decided to attack. One can never and should never completely relax when you are a member of the Imperium.

"I am Crosis, Acolyte of the Sith Impurium, former Warlord of the Nepraptus Tribe of Sith Purebloods. To whom do I speak?" Asked Crosis of the other man. Figuring that his lessors might as well know his name at the very least. Crosis once more ran a hand along the facial appendages that acted as a beard for other races and awaited the other mans introduction to his question. Assuming of course that the other found that he was worthy of being in such close proximity to the Pureblood. Crosis didn't really associate with his fellow acolytes that often as he often viewed most of them as weak and unworthy of his time. And weakness was something that Crosis simply could not abide.

 

[Alphonse Cunningham]

As Crosis called him a human, Alphonse laughed he sat down. He could see reason for this, as he looked a lot like one, although his species was so much better. He waited for the Pureblood to finish his introduction, and spoke up.

"I'm Alphonse Cunningham, Acolyte of the Sith Imperium, Anzat. So, no I'm not a worthy human to sit in the company of the pure. I'm a worthy Anzati," he answered, flashing Crosis a good-natured smile. He hoped the Pureblood didn't know anything about his species, although if he did, Alphonse was ready to answer any questions he might have.

 

[Crosis]

Crosis couldn't help but laugh when he the other man corrected Crosis on his misdiagnosis of his species. So he was an Anzat huh? Interesting. "Worthy indeed. You and I will get on so long as you do not attempt to soup me. I am not for eating." Was all that Crosis said on the matter. "So you are a fellow Acolyte, tell me Alphonse, how are you in lightsaber combat, and what forms do you practice. Lightsaber combat is a special interest of mine." Crosis stated, gesticulating with his hand as he spoke. As if becoming aware of what he was doing Crosis put his hand to rest on the table, while the other rested partially relaxed on his lightsaber. You never knew when one of the instructors was going to give you a surprise lesson on dueling or a student was going to try and eliminate the competition.

Crosis waited for the other man, Alphonse to finish speaking and then spoke once more, His deep voice sounding like thunder from a mountain top mixed with velvet. "I hear that your race is long lived, tell me you, how long have you been troubling the galaxy and filling people with such delicious fear? A century, three perhaps? Are you just a baby by your races standards being no more than that of a young human, twenty five, thirty perhaps? Hmm? You do not have to answer, but it would be gesture of good faith. Just because we are Sith, myself more than most; does not in fact mean we can not be civilized." The Sith Pureblood said once more stroking the crimson appendage hanging from his chin that vaguely resembled a beard.

 

[Alphonse Cunningham]

"No worries. I only eat those that threaten me or I deem a danger to my life. You're a Sith, and so am I, meaning we are both aligned on the same side and you haven't claimed you'll kill me yet," he replied, truth in his words. "Hmm, I do enjoy lightsaber combat, although I haven't yet chosen a form for myself, I do like Form V's Djem So. It compliments my strength and agressive style, thus I'm currently studying it more than other forms."

Alphonse waited for Crosis to finish speaking, then responded. "I was created in a lab and granted more heightened ablities. Sadly, I was frozen in a slab of carbonite by Rebels until about twenty years ago. I was given life about 1000 years ago, meaning that I'm pretty old for my species. What happened to your tribe? You don't have to answer, of course."

 

[Crosis]

Crosis nodded in mostly agreement. "We may both be Sith, but then you should also know that it is because of that reason that we are just as likely to slay one another just as often as our enemies. I do not try to kill potential allies. Even if they are not of the Blood." Crosis stated finally taking a large and long drink from his flask. When the other man mentioned Djem So, Crosis could not help but feel himself smile. "I too practice and study Djem So, since I naturally am incredibly strong, it was the most logical choice, not to mention when I augment my strength with the Force, ha ha ha. I become truly terrifying. I have also practiced Shii-cho, which is the fundamental stepping stone to learning all other forms of Lightsaber combat. Alphonse of Anzat, I would very much like to spar and train with you sometime. You seem like one who would whom would keep me on my toes so to speak." The largely built Pureblood stated. His hand still never leaving his lightsaber.

When Alphonse mentioned he was created in a lab, Crosis reflexively spat upon the floor. "Force of habit. So then you are not truly Anzati then, but an artificial abomination?" Though his words were incredibly indelicate, they were said without scorn or hatred, mostly. It was simply what it was, a question.. When the other man asked Crosis what happened to his Tribe he had to shrug for the most part. "I stepped down as Warlord of my Tribe. Tribe Nepraptor selected a new leader, seeing as how the past five years have been difficult for my Tribe with leadership. You see, the old leaders of my Tribe was my father, and through him my mother. My parents, both Pureblood like myself, were also Sith. Albeit, retired, or close enough to it. Long story short I slew my parents to strengthen my bond and immersion in the Darkside of the Force. Their deaths still gift my with rage to fuel my power even to this day. The Lightsaber I wear was my fathers, a constant, more physical reminder to never forget. So my Tribe lives on, thrives.

My Tribe is strong, always has been. Living in the wilds of Ziost will do that to you. Though we do remain very isolated from the Temple as to not arouse the attention of it. Though should the instructors and the Masters here tell me that I have to much attachment to my Tribe I would not for a moment hesitate to slay them all. Each one of them I knew since I was a child, Each of their deaths fueling my anger, my hatred, my sorrow, my pain. All if it making me stronger, giving my focus..." Crossis said seeming to enjoy the thought as he closed his eyes savoring the metaphorical deaths and darkside energies that would follow such an event. Crosis snapped his eyes open and looked at Alphonse. "But alas I digress, so yes, to answer your question they are well, for the time being." Crosis said allowing a wicked smile to grace his face.

 

[Alphonse Cunningham]

Alphonse could tell the Pureblood was still on guard, since he was constantly clutching his lightsaber. "I agree with you," he said, regarding the statement about Djem So. "I am quite adept at Shii Cho, then decided to practive Djem So. If I were faster, I would probably try its more dexterous counterpart, Shien." The pureblood then suggested training and sparring together."I, too, would very much love to spar and train with you. I accept your offer."

"I was made with Anzati genes. I do consider myself an Anzati. I have never met my "mother", nor "father"," he made quotation marks with his fingers, "although I doubt they were consentive of lending their DNA to a human scientist to aid in bringing the Empire down. The Anzat people are Empire-aligned, after all." He smiled as the Pureblood spoke of his murderous tendencies. "I kill for sport, usually, and feeding is an added bonus. If I have enemies, I eliminate them, but I try not to interact too much with people."

 

[Vecna]

Passing through the commons of a Sith academy very infrequently, especially in his less than favorite temple on Ziost, it was by mere chance that a truly monolithic Kushari named Vecna passed by the two acolytes conversing amongst themselves, about themselves. It was by no concious decision of his own that he overheard the two of them talking, his Kushari ears picked up everything around him constantly unless he made a concerted effort not to. Under normal circumstances Vecna couldn't give less of a kriff about what two no name, and likely no future acolytes were talking about. He couldn't help himself this time though, the Pureblood words especially making his eyebrow raise in unabashed suspicion and judgement.

"Killing someone who poses no challenge doesn't make you strong, it makes you a coward." Vecna said simply, his voice deep, predatory and gravely as it came from his chest. "Clearly, to be cut down by a mere child," Vecna was assuming here, but judging by the apparent age of the Pureblood he wasn't terribly old now, and it seemed unlikely that he was a fresh recruit. "your parent's must have been truly pathetic indeed. If you truly think that those pitiful emotions and wanton slaying of lesser beings is what leads to power in the darkside, you are a fool. If that's the mentality that most of your people possess, it's no wonder you've never progressed past your tribal barbarism." Vecna stared down his nose at both of them, the condescension evident in his tone. These were the kinds of acolytes he detested the most. They knew nothing of the darkside outside of its most basic principles and applications, to him they were no more than beasts with a gift they could never fully understand. "Neither of you would last more than a minute against a real Sith."

 

[Crosis]

Crosis nodded his head at the Anzati "It pleases me that we are in agreement. Perhaps arranging something will be in short order, as I would hate to start here and now in the Common Room. With so many aliens finally catching a break from the whips of their masters. Djem So is a wonderful style. I have the dexterity and nimbleness for Shien, but I would prefer something more along the lines of Seresu or Ataru. Leaning more toward Seresu. I think it would compliment my Djem So wonderfully." The Pureblood said keeping his deep, thundering voice level. He did enjoy fighting, more than most. His physicality was deceptive. Not only was he incredibly strong, and could take large amounts of punishment, but he was also quite fast and nimble. Physically speaking, he was superb.

A voice from elsewhere in the room suddenly drew Crosis' attention. He looked at where the voice was coming from. Found it and his eyes narrowed to slits albeit briefly as the new comer spoke on. Crosis listened of course to this alien filth spout on about how his opinions actually was law, or so was his mentality. Crosis shook his head/ "Silence your tongue you pathetic fool, before I cut it out and allow my Anzat friend to feast on the soup of your brain. I was no mere child when I cut down my loved ones. And truly, unless there is dysfunction in a home does one ever truly expect family to betray and kill you? You speak of rage, anger, hatred being pitiful emotion, and yet these are the fundamental emotions that drive all Sith to power. Your education is clearly as lacking as your ability to recognize your betters, un-pure scum." Crosis took a another drink of his flask of water and then stood up. His hand still on his Lightsaber.

"To slay any being, lesser or greater is to give in to the Darkside, the emanations of a sentient death ripples through the Force. The Darkside being a manifestation of the darker tendencies of the people living in the galaxy would thus be made palpable and able to be harvested so to speak once free of a physical vessel. I would expect any Sith to know this, but let me guess a lesser creature like you didn't learn that because you were to busy trying to insult your betters to feed you own diminished, pathetic ego. Fool." Crosis once more spat, but this time at the feet of the newcomer, right in front of his feet.

"You foolishly state that neither myself nor this other Acolyte here would be able to stand their ground against a true Sith for more than a minute. If that is a measurement against yourself, then don't make me laugh, please. That sad fool of an Acolyte over there levitating his cup is closer to being true Sith than you are. And I am real Sith, as real as they come, by race, blood, and affiliation. Can you say the same scum? No, I did not think that you could." Crosis said with a slight snarl in his voice. The audacity of his lesser. Sometimes it knew no bounds, apparently this was one of those times. But so was life. Crosis refused to let petty insults invoke to much rage within him. He refused to give the other Sith the satisfaction.

 

[Vica Veszk]

As High Executioner of the Sith, Eris had a certain knack for deception. To speak was to lie; to exist on the periphery of the senses was as natural as breathing. There were few who knew the depths of her perfidy - perhaps Veles knew, but he was dead now, felled by her hand as though his life held no meaning. It was possible that Lord Somnus had a clue, though it was more than hubris that convinced her she had even the master illusionist fooled. There were few who could make such a claim, who could so effortlessly pull the wool over the Dark Lord's eyes, and yet the Coterie had taken over Korriban with such ease that Eris could hardly believe the extent of their success. They had an entire temple world to their name - and no one, save for the enlightened inner circle of Sith, realized she had any part in it. The Coterie had been Darth Tarak's baby, but under her constant care, it grew tall and capable and strong. And if Eris had any say in the matter, it would flourish in the months to come.

And then they would take the Empress' head, and restore the Empire to it's former glory.

It was no surprise then, that the Dark Councilor had so thoroughly disguised herself from the Sith in attendance. If she could fool the Council, the Dark Lord, and a crime council of Hutts and their ilk, what difficulty was there in concealing her visage and her presence from those in attendance? She had existed in the common room long before the Pureblood's arrival, wrapped in the protective embrace not only of the Force, but her armor as well. With her aura buried and her form rendered invisible through a mixture of technology and ancient mysticism, she observed the temple's denizens with interest. A revolution didn't built itself after all, and it wasn't as though the Coterie stapled recruitment fliers to HoloNet transmitters in hope of generating interest. And while Ziost was proving to be devoid of suitable candidates, she couldn't help but overhear the conversation between Acolyte and Crusader. Silently, she rolled her eyes; it was a wonder the Sith had come so far when their ranks were comprised so thoroughly of such small-minded imbeciles.

Prepared to tune the pair out entirely, it was the low, predatory rumble of Vecna's voice that piqued her interest, and in silent, her mouth widened into a truly amused grin. The Kushari wasn't one to mince words - and she appreciated that about him. It was a good quality to have in an ally. Releasing control on her Force presence first, Eris exhaled as though the act took more than a slight effort on her part. She did not possess the aura of one who was steeped in the Dark Side - there was no grasping darkness, no thick miasma of suffering that surrounded her. Rather, her presence was cold. Sharp and clean as the snows of Ziost, it was akin to an icy wind passing through, and a moment later, her body shimmered smoothly into view.

"Busy making friends as usual, I see." The Executioner's green-gold eyes focused on the feline, a hint of that grin still evident in her small smile.

 

[Vecna]

"You truly are a complete idiot," Vecna said simply. The Pureblood's sudden increase in anger and hostility was unsurprising and rewarded no outward displays of being impressed or intimidated from the Kushari. Vecna had stared death - the real true kind not understood when you only killed those weaker than you like the pitiful excuse for a Sith that stood before him - and he had done so unafraid, unrelenting and completely willing. His stoicism wasn't the product of a beaten man stuck in a negative spiral of failures like it so often presented itself in others, it was due to Vecna knowing what true danger was and being able to recognize when the potential opponent standing before you was not much more than a feeble insect easily crushed under your heel. "it's amazing you've been able to live this long. A true testament to the weakness and failure that is this temple and the beings that call this planet their home. There's a reason your race is nearly extinct, and it has nothing to do with your women being terrible lays."

Vecna smiled curtly, baring his massive fangs slightly in an unconscious instinctual warning that this Pureblood was treading in territory where he didn't belong. "Your entitlement is unwarranted, undeserved and laughable. You are nothing compared to me, acolyte." He said the last word like it tasted vile as it left his lips, like there could be nothing anyone could be that was in any way worse than owning that title. Vecna was a Crusader on borderline Mastership, and he would tolerate absolutely no disrespect from a pitiful worm who'd plateaued on the lowest rung of the ladder. He watched Crosis' hand hovering near his lightsaber and was unable to stop a low, hearty chuckle like rolling thunder escape his throat. "Reach for that lightsaber and you'll be dead before you ignite the blade. If you were a real Sith you'd know only fools underestimate their adversaries and only pathetic children resort to violence as a first resort." The venom in Vecna's voice was so prevalent it nearly poisoned the air around him. He was making no attempt to hide his disgust with Crosis. The Anzat may have been equally as stupid but he at least knew when to keep his mouth shut.

Vecna had been aware of Eris' presence before she had made herself known. Her scent was one in particular he had memorized and stored away in his head long ago; and even the incredible prowess she had in the force couldn't prevent her body's natural scent from giving her away. The Spymaster was just as likely to slit your throat as share a glass of wine with you and Vecna knew that, not to mention she was probably the only person in the galaxy that spent as much time hidden and invisible as he did. "Just instructing a few helpless acolytes that their views are not only ignorant, but incredibly stupid." Vecna spoke to Eris without turning his head towards her, his crystal blue eyes glinting sharply with murderous intent and locked onto the Pureblood. "But I'm sure they'll make some Jedi a good first kill. Everyone has their purpose to serve, I suppose."

 

[Intratec]

"The reason there are so few of those that think like them are because, they do not think. Just as in our dual, Teacher we thought. about our moves." refusing to call Vecna her Master. "I learned, and adapted to your method of attack, and that is why Master Victus is screeching at the droids to work faster in repair that crater." she hadn't worn perfume, and her vials had been air tight and had not been set to jingle nor her lightsaber. She was moving silently, spending long hours watching the Kushari. Yet unlike the others, she was dressed lightly for this world, because this WAS her world; Ziost had accepted her, and in turn she had accepted Father Ziost.

"Do you know why I so seldom travel there?" She asked, while languidly appeared and leaned against Vecna's side as one comrade might do for another patting a massively muscled arm. Here stood another Sith, hands shrouded by long violet long sleeves the same color as her robes, a sash of black about her waist and no lightsaber to be found.

Yet Vecna knew she was armed to the teeth. The saber hidden, the Lanvarok upon her arm, a Shikkar hidden away and enough alchemical solutions to kill a full battalion. One did not need to display their power over another to show it. "I am the Laughing Girl, the Massassi of Ziost leave their newborns upon an altar for Father Ziost to judge. And for the infants to cry their defiance to a world as cold and cruel as Ziost at night if they do not, they die. I merely giggled, laughed and ran my hands through the wind. I needn't have cried. For I felt Ziost, and it felt me. It knew me as true Sith."

"I am heir to Sadow," Naga Sadow's emblem promptly displayed on the necklace beside the fat Corusca gem which glowed with the same intense inner golden fire her eyes now carried," and to and more besides. I studied my ancestors follies, and allow me to give you a piece of advice. My Teacher may well maim you for further ineptitude or insolence. " That was when she too bared her teeth, dainty, yet all pointed and razor sharp. It was almost like a Father cat and Kitten barring their fangs. "Try to fight my Teacher now, and you may live at his whim, and he is not so whimsical. I on the other had would be happy to call a Kaggath and see the job done properly, in the ancient ways."

Looking up to Vecna then she said, "I threw the Master off your trail for the size and shape of the hole. Unsurprisingly, he believed me."

(Click Pureblood Princess, receive description.)

 

[Alphonse Cunningham]

As the massive beast stopped speaking, Alphonse stood up, a small smile tugging at his lips. "You might think you're above us, you brute, but simply because you've killed a few Jedi does not mean you're a god." As the woman stepped out of the shadows, Alphonse was suddenly aware of the amount of essence floating about the room. He licked his lips, even though he was aware he couldn't make a move and live. He felt that the new woman might be important.

He sat back down and assumed a relaxed stance, a smirk on his face. Alphonse turned to Crosis. "Anyhow, where were we? Ah yes, lightsaber dueling. When was the last time you've had a duel, Crosis?" Another woman decided to join them, but all he graced her with was a wave.

 

[Elijah Brockway]

"Why is it that whenever I do see more of my kind beyond Sin'ryk, something pointless is occurring?" Tsisaar asked himself, although loud enough for Vecna, Eris, and Ayindri to hear him if they paid attention to it, although not so for the others in the room. He had quietly entered, and had it not been for the curiosity of a potential fight to watch, he would have quietly left due to the number of people in the room.

He was, however, somewhat surprised to see two more of the actual Sith species beyond himself in the space. Even if one of them was being a pointlessly speciesist brute. He turned to the three who would most likely have heard him, nodding respectfully at each in turn. "Hello." Then he turned to Crosis.

"Please, do try to remember that if it weren't for other species coming around, ours would never have left Korriban, and would probably have died there. Or, later on, this order you're a part of now would never have been founded. Or do you not remember that it was a human who was the first true Dark Lord of the Sith, after having subjugated our people?"

 

[Vica Veszk]

It was a testament to her effectiveness that most of the beings assembled didn't recognize her on sight. Then again, she wasn't draped in mysterious (but tell-tale) illusions, nor was she a Red Sith or a massive Wookiee; perhaps she was too normal-looking to sit on the Dark Council, but being able to belong anywhere was a vital skill for a spy, and Eris had such subtlety to spare. It was almost funny, the atrocities one could get away with if they were pretty enough - but then again, the Sith had built an empire upon the backs of the fallen, and being a terrible excuse for a human being was practically in their doctrine. Save for Vecna's, none of the faces were familiar. But it was a simple thing to discern that the majority of them were Acolytes - the desperation practically emanated from the lot of them like some awful cologne - far from ever becoming true Sith.

It was when Alphonse spoke that she politely cleared her throat, fingertips gently obscuring her mouth for the length of the brief gesture. Her attention on the essence thief, she watched him with an unfaltering stare and bright, unblinking eyes. "Might I remind you that Vecna is one of this Order's finest Crusaders. You'd do well to show your superior the respect he deserves." The way she smiled was joyless and sharp - more of a threat than an expression of mirth or welcome. "You will apologize, Acolyte. And for your sake, I hope he finds your contrition to be both sufficient and sincere."

To Crosis, the Red Sith who seemed to have a strange view of the galaxy - to say the least - she offered the same withering glare. "And as for you, I recommend watching your tongue. Lest you'd like to hasten your bloodline's inevitable advancement toward extinction." For their part, Tsisaar and Ayindri seemed harmless - certainly not worth her time.

 

[Alphonse Cunningham]

As Alphonse was suggested, no ordered to apologize, he stifled a giggle, succesfully. "And who might you be to order me around, Miss.?" he asked, an air of genuine curiosity begging to escape. Alphonse did not take orders from strangers, yet he felt that doing so might save his neck for now. He turned to the furry little massive-hunter-beast-thing "Anyhow, my apologies." he said, hoping not to offend in any way, something probably inevitable with these damn Crusaders. Although Alphonse knew when to fight and when to back down.

Thus, he decided to pay attention to the other people present. "I feel as though we're all getting too stingy. Would anyone object to blowing off some steam by discussing a less touchy subject? Perhaps podracing?" he spoke up. The Acolyte that had been there before, trying to lift a cup was long gone, and had ran off as soon as Vecna popped his furry head in.

 

[Logan]

No set of words uttered from the Anzat abomination's mouth would be enough for Vecna to abstain from the course of action he'd already decided to undertake. The fact that the acolyte had dared question Eris' authority before tossing out a lackluster apology all but sealed the deal for the great Kushari. Without so much as a twitch of his muscles Vecna focused intently on Alphonse's throat, using his master level ability with telekinesis to form a ball of energy right above the man's wind pipe. It would explode with a violence that betrayed its diminutive size, having more than enough energy and influence to not only possibly tear the man's throat clean open but to at the very least send him flying backwards with gusto.

The single bladed lightsaber Vecna had taken to carrying with him removed itself from his hip, it too manipulated with telekinesis, its blade igniting before the weapon was jettisoned straight forward. It's trajectory was obvious, the blade set to follow up Vecna's first attack and drive Alphonse straight through the middle of his chest. Should the Anzat find a way to not perish in these few seconds, Vecna would simply rip the man limb from limb instead. The how part of his death was irrelevant, it was the why that was important. Insolence and indignation would not be tolerated in any form, and any of the other acolytes in the commons watching would surely learn this lesson vicariously through Alphonse' untimely death.

Turning his eye towards Crosis, Vecna smiled curtly; an almost eerie resemblance between his smile and Eris'. "I can do the Sith a favor and end your existence too, if you'd like." It was the thing he had to say.

 

[Vica Veszk]

For a moment, Eris' expression softened. Her smile seemed more genuine, barely disguising a laugh, and she looked upon Alphonse with what might best be described as pity. Lolling her head to one side, more out of curiosity than anything else, she took a good look at him - as if committing his soon-to-be-dead visage to memory - before letting loose a small, patient sigh. "My name is Eris." Her gaze flickered to the Kushari, briefly - as if she didn't want to miss whatever he was going to do. "But you will refer to me by my title, Darth Umbra." Her lips continued to curl upward, smile becoming an almost predatory grin, "Assuming you live that long."

She knew the Kushari well, though - short of getting on his knees and begging for his life through broken sobs, it seemed unlikely that Vecna would let his miserable existence continue. Leaning back against the sofa, the sudden appearance of Vecna's weapon came as no surprise. He was a killer, through and through, and had the Acolyte simply treated him with an iota of respect, perhaps things could've been different. Then again, sitting around listening to them bicker about death and destruction and who had a more troubled upbringing was far less interesting than watching the feline rip the assembled children to pieces.

 

[Alphonse Cunningham]

Alphonse was not amused by this display of hostility. Sadly, however, entertainment had nothing to do with such things yet, he flinched. The Force push hit him in the left shoulder. Alphonse flew into the trash shaft, and slid down, several nails pulling at the fabric of his coat, and ripping through, then scratching his skin halfway to the bone. Alphonse landed in a trash dumpster, yet the bags did not cover much of his fall, and he landed with an audible crack. Those were his ribs, he supposed. He tried to move his left arm, yet couldn't, as it was broken. Through his ragged breaths, he cursed, and hope flowed into him as a ship flew in and began loading garbage. Sweet salvation, he thought, as he slowly blacked out.