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Star Wars: The Crimson Covenant / Re: CC: Circle of Freedom
« Last post by Syren on Yesterday at 08:30:15 PM »
“Faith
Feel it but it fades away
All that I can do is pray
For mercy…”


-Cult of Venus


Chandaar: Republic Capital

Surface: Serinus: The Menagerie

Quentin Swire shifts in the chaise lounge, trying desperately to get comfortable.


His body still aches from the altercation with the RSB agent, which he dulls with a mixture of alcohol and narcotics. The semester is over, so he’s got a little time to regroup. He managed to execute the mission and pass all his finals, but it is the relative quiet that follows that gives him a low-level anxiety. It did make headlines, but was quickly overshadowed by the conflict at Corellia, which has now dominated the Holo for days.

 
So far, they had gotten away with it. Not that he expects Barrett to express any gratitude.


He watches Quinn carefully as she takes an impressive hit and thrusts the joint at him. A cloud of dank, lavender smoke swirls around her head. Somehow, she still manages to make it look sexy. She has mentioned nothing about the mission, not that he really thought she would, but she carries on as if this is all part of the fabulous circus of her life. That nanotech really is impressive.


“Babe, I’m starving. Let’s go out.”


“In a bit,” she murmurs distantly, staring at herself in the mirror. “Kinsa is swinging by to pick something up.”


“What?”


“I dunno, some outfit or whatever she wants to borrow for a thing.”


He attempts to lean back, but the chaise is so awkwardly designed that it makes it impossible. He pouts, but adorably, “Surely the studio would have sprung for an outfit. She has connections.”


“True, but I get to keep all the clothes. It’s in my contract. So, I have a better selection at the ready. She’s my sister, Q. You like her, right?”


“Yeah, sure. She’s just…kinda weird.”


Quinn turns, expression flawless and serene, “We’re all weirdos, babe.”


Can’t argue that. He hits the joint while she absently braids a strand of her silvery white hair. The door chime interrupts his wandering mind, and soon Kinsa is standing in front of them. He smirks, allowing a tendril of smoke to drift from between his full lips as he looks her over. Where Quinn is devastating and unattainable, Kinsa is a more accessible hot, an extremely pampered and expertly styled version of someone you could have grown up with, known all your life. She is historically less aloof than Quinn, but lately, she’s been more frenetic, and it’s wigging him out. Vibes are off, but he can’t place it. Surely, it can’t be residual resentment for what happened to her friend’s sister on Hesperidium. He had nothing to do with that. Besides, Corinthos is dead now, so she can take comfort in their reunion. He wonders if the transitions are affecting her non-active state. Not something that appears to be impacting Quinn, but not entirely out of the question, considering they are routinely generating new personalities and skills for them as the mission requires. Something to monitor, for sure.


“Thanks for letting me raid your closet. I had a few options, but they didn’t feel quite right.”


Quinn laughs, a hollow sound coming from her, and gracefully gestures toward the massive walk-in, “I totally get it. Knock yourself out.”


She nods to Quentin and disappears into the closet. Her heart is pounding, but she steadies herself with a few deep breaths. Focus, focus, focus. While she runs a hand across various designer gowns and intricately arranged separates, her eyes scan the tower of heels at the back of the space, arranged compulsively by color. Yes, she does have a thing, but that is not the real reason she came here. The ride home from the launch party stayed with her, and now she is compelled to do something that could lead somewhere her mind really isn’t ready to go. Kinsa pulls a Viu Viu wrap dress in a bold slate when she spots the silver heels in the tower. Grabbing a gray shawl, she quickly snatches them and folds them into the soft fabric.


“Found something,” she exclaims, sweeping out of the closet dramatically.


 Quinn pauses mid-dab of lip gloss from a small jar and smiles, “That’s cute, and you paired it with-”


“Yes. Better safe than freezing. I’ve gotta run, but thanks again!”


“Anytime,” she calls as Kinsa departs, returning to her reflection. “Okay, mister, let’s eat.”


“Yeah, cool,” Quentin says, eyes narrowed at the door.


*


Surface: Downtown


Kinsa Cavanaugh manages to get everything back to her flat, where she pulls out the heels and inspects them. It seems insane, but she knows what she saw. Sure enough, the bottom of the left heel is stained a deep, rusted brown. She shivers. Pulling on gloves, she smashes the heel against her polished stone countertop repeatedly until it breaks off. Escara Wu would be pissed at Quinn, but she’d get over it. She carefully places the heel in a small container and drops it in her purse.


Satisfied with herself, she changes into the slate Viu Viu wrap dress, slips on a pair of wedges, tosses the shawl over her shoulders, and heads out the door.


Surface: West Ambaril


It is a modest premiere.

 
The influential genre crowd is out in full force. Admittedly, the Holofilm is incredible. A haunting take on the Bothan spies that died bringing the Rebellion, you know, that information. Outside, Kinsa calls Kezlan Roan. She would have asked him to join her, but thought it would make the half-Bothan side of him sad or something.


He’s wrapping up drinks with a client but would be down for another. She agrees and meets him at a small wine bar, where the crowd thinned out after having moved on to dinner elsewhere. She knows people may talk if they are seen together. At a party here or there, no problem, easy enough to explain away, given his connection to the agency and studios. But a more private meeting could signal legal trouble or whispers of a romance – possibly a legally troubled romance. Despite her initial and rather circumstantial thoughts about him, she thinks he’s cool and fun, and Kinsa Cavanaugh is kind of out of gal pals. He wafts the glass under his nose and smiles.


“I was pleasantly surprised to hear from you. I’ll have you know I went out with Oxana the other night, so thanks for the introduction.”


She brightens with a flirty shoulder shimmy, “And how did it go? A fulfilling experience, I hope.”


“Smashing. What a doll. I didn’t see you with your eye on anyone at the party. I asked around. No skeletons of acting leads in your closet. No salacious rumors about torrid affairs with delusionally hip industry types. What gives?”


“It’s complicated.”


“Isn’t it always?”


She touches the edge of her glass against his, “The price we pay for fame.”


“True enough. Are we becoming friends?”


“All my friends are dead, so, yeah, obviously. We’re really exploring the multiple facets of our relationship. Over drinks, of course. This is mostly social, but I need some perspective.”


He leans back, arching a bushy brow, “Something tells me we should have ordered the bottle.”


“Probably. Do you happen to know of anyone who can conduct discreet testing?”


“What kind of test are we talking about?”


“A substance.”


“That’s not-”


“Hence, the testing. I need to know what it is.”


“Why?”


“You’re on my retainer now, not the agency, so this stays between us.”


“I take it this is the professional facet of our relationship?”


“One of the facets, yes! I need clarity, but it could be, like, bad.”


“Not sure I like the sound of that,” he groans, taking a long sip from his glass.


She keeps her voice hushed, “I don’t like the sound of it either, but I have to know!”


“Do you though?”


“Kez!”


“Alright, alright. Let me see what I can do.”


They finish their glasses, then another, and Kinsa slips him the container.


“Off the record,” she warns.


Roan makes a connection with an “independent” lab to test the sample on the heel. Two days later, he urgently summons her to his office, which is closer to that wine bar than she thought. It’s a lovely neighborhood, and she makes a mental note to examine it further. She chose a simple white blouse tucked neatly into a deep burgundy pencil skirt with a matching embroidered cape for some reason. It felt official, befitting of the moment. Safely in his office, he frowns at her from behind his desk.


“Why are you dressed like a reluctant but impossibly chic governess?”


“Don’t do that. Don’t question the outfit.”


He nods, motioning for her to sit. “I asked to meet you here because it’s completely secure. Swept for listening devices twice a day, the last of which was shortly before you arrived. One can never be too careful with the clients I represent.”


“Sounds ominous.”


“That’s because it is, Kinsa. The quote-unquote substance was blood. Human blood. But something tells me you already knew that.”


She pulls her cape together, “I may have…had a hunch.”


“Moonlighting in forensics? How enterprising. It gets worse.”

She gasps, gripping the sides of an insanely expensive chair, “How much worse?”


“So much more. Does the name Pola Vrent mean anything to you?”


“Is that…a person?”


“It is. Agent Pola Vrent. Of the Republic Security Bureau. The one who questioned you about a certain piece of jewelry they suspected your friend Ambassador Janessa Kain used to blow up the Republic President.”


“Oh, right. That. Wait, that’s…her blood?”

“Correct. She’s in the system. It came back as a match.”


Kinsa blinks rapidly, trying desperately to piece together sense out of all this. Why the hell would an RSB agent’s blood, especially that RSB agent's, be on Quinn’s heel? Roan, seizing on the opportunity of her stunned silence, leans forward and taps the console on his desk. Several news stories appear between them, headlines above what looks like a crime scene.


“And what happened to the intrepid Agent Vrent, you may be asking yourself? Well, she died a little over a week ago near the border of Five Points and Serinus. Quote-unquote fell down the lift shaft of a partially constructed residence tower seemingly in the middle of the night. Construction droids discovered the body in the morning. Coincidentally, her partner, Agent Ule Ollo – the other agent who questioned you – was killed around the same time in an apparent home invasion.”


Kinsa marvels at the wrongness of it all, the weight of dread anchoring her to the chair.


“Please tell me it doesn’t get worse than that,” she whispers.


“I wish. Do you know what night they both died?”


She shakes her head, willing him to say anything else. Roan sighs.


“The night of the launch party. Now, is there anything you want to tell me?”







-TBC

2
Star Wars: The Crimson Covenant / Re: CC: The Crimson Covenant
« Last post by Syren on August 16, 2025, 05:58:37 PM »
“Finally, I found my own golden road
Won’t hear another word of your stories told
Just know that your game
Ignited a flame
That burns inside me.”


-My Friend Catie


Dathomir

Surface: Temple of The Voss-Ra

Seif reflexively brushes a few fingers across his broken chest plate as the fragment glows brighter in response.


It is true. This is not something he’d had his whole life. It was bestowed upon him when he first became Inquisitor Involis, mounted in specialized armor constructed deep inside a Prakith volcano. A new identity that replaced his old one, the cursed line of Greyson, the one he now knows posed a threat to the prophecy. Until he was needed in this cycle.


“You never told me Alexia was the one who found it.”


“The origin did not matter when it came to the trust we placed in you. We gave it to you to protect and sent Alexia Winton back to the Imperial capital with a version of the prophecy that would keep Alexander occupied. A version packaged in a primitive holocron that maintained core tenets and key players.”


“How do you know this? Did you follow Alexia to Korriban?”


“We did. Our acolytes were near them much of the time, disguised as others who would not appear out of place, to keep watch on their movements and activities as they had been throughout each cycle. Alexia was quite powerful, but she was also unstable, something your father played on to foster the jealousy and rivalry between your sisters. When she departed for Korriban, she was consumed by darkness, almost in a trance, that led her through those deep valleys, into the tombs of the ancient Sith Lords, to the fragment of the Etheralis. Returning empty-handed would only drive Alexander further into his own madness. It had to align with the things the Queen already told him, things we had divined through her visions, disjointed as they may have been. Something believable.”


“Oh, he believed it. Everyone believed it. Acted on it. I remember what Adubell showed me. The last conversation between Melanie and Karen. My mother tried to warn Melanie, and that is why she took Karen’s life. It was because of the lies you fed them!”


“An…unexpected turn of events. As we have said, we can only influence, not control.”


“That’s reckless endangerment! How is that better than what our fathers did? What Adubell is doing now?”


“Our actions serve the prophecy, not our interests. We are not looking to line our pockets with credits or gain public fame. For the Sith to rise, Winton must emerge the victor. Winton must fulfill it, and we work in service of that goal so that our brothers and sisters in darkness may once again rule the galaxy openly, finally out of the shadows of conspiracy and conjecture.”


Seif takes a pointed tone, “Your influence over the prophecy amounts to selective breeding. Creating a victor through bloodlines.”


“Not all possess the qualities needed to win, so it is not something we could leave entirely to chance.”


“Why Winton? Why not one of the others?”


“Winton was the bloodline chosen to sire The Four. There, in the convergence of a stolen princess and a Winton, everything began.”


“If I were anyone else, I might laugh that off as insanity. But I know what I have seen, and I know who and what I am. Still, your assumptions and inconsistencies leave room for doubt, despite guidance from Greyson Oraculum’s. Alexander may have been a Winton, but he was no daughter. Certainly not the Daughter of Darkness.”


“That he was not. Your father saw many things he wanted to see.”


“No, you told him what to see. You just didn’t expect him to do with it what he did.”


“The Dark, The Light, The Master, The Beast, The High Protectorate, The Unconventional Champion – all roles that manifested themselves in every cycle. We gave them a name, and it gave each of them purpose. However, reference to the Daughter of Darkness was used…more broadly in the context he had, but held the same connection to The Master. There have been only two male Wintons; the first was the son of Persephone, and then Alexander Winton. None survived for us to truly know what would have happened, and both were driven to their deaths through ambition. As with the first, Alexander ruthlessly ruled the game, which led us to believe he may have served more as a precursor for a daughter to come. Someone to chart the course. Now we see the alignment, what the Oraculum had been whispering all along. Third-born daughter of royalty, raised by another. That is who bore The Four, and that is who, blessed with Winton’s bloodline, would be the one to bring about the return of the Sith. It is you, Princess Dahlia. It has always been you.”


Seif and Dahlia exchange a knowing glance, features pulled tight with skepticism. It is what anyone would want to hear: that they are truly the one they were waiting for. That had been promised in the prophecy. Dahlia sees similarities but realizes they could likely attach meaning to anyone in this role. Their hopes are too high, and she wonders what they would do if she prevailed and nothing happened. If the Sith stayed dead and buried. Would they find a way for them to be disposed of before moving on, or would they collapse under the weight of their misguided beliefs and spectacular failures? The Voss-Ra Order extinguished forever. They are grasping, want so desperately to believe it, and they both know there is power in that. 


Power she and Seif have over them.

“Fascinating. Please continue.”


“Each cycle brought us closer, allowed us to learn more with each step. Decipher more of the Oraculum’s visions. There are surely signs we missed or could not interpret fast enough. Influence has limits. Alexander used Alexia as a means to facilitate Karen’s rise to power, as was foreseen, but with it, he saw an opportunity for himself. What he and Medivh Guldon built would continue his legacy so that he could revel in and profit from it. Their creation may have killed Kyri Patten, but his selfish distraction allowed Celeste Masterton and Rutherford Gellar to mount a defense against him. One that kept them alive. That is why the Etheralis could not fall into his hands."


“You do not know his victory would have fulfilled the prophecy, but point taken. It led him astray, as it has led Adubell astray, but there is something I must know. What even is the Etheralis?”


“That is something you will need to open your mind to understand.”


“Try me.”


Elder Bashir’s eyes drift to Seif, who affirms with a curt nod.


“Tell her.”


“Very well. The Etheralis is a Celestial totem, a vessel through which the Force can be filtered, channeled, and stored. It holds immense power, as it is a symbol of their divinity and glory.”


Her head, suddenly swimming, slips slightly to the left, “The…what?”


“Father. Son. Daughter. Mother. Perhaps known in our time as The Ones. The Father was the Keeper of the Balance, with his Daughter representing the light and his Son the dark. They constructed the Etheralis as a gift for the Mother, imbuing it with energy from both sides. This balance was a constant struggle between them and the Mother, wanting to become immortal as a way to unite her family, drank from the Font of Power, and bathed in the Pool of Knowledge. In those waters, she saw the whole of the galaxy’s fate, all the war and suffering and struggle as the two sides of The Force moved in and out of power. Cycles so vicious that it corrupted her. She was seemingly driven insane, but submerged in the pool, she uttered one word. A name.”


The others speak in unison, a chant eerily dulled inside the ward’s boundaries.


“Persephonea.”
“Persephonea.”
“Persephonea.”
“Persephonea.”


“When confronted, she attacked them with the Etheralis, granting her power even they struggled to fight against. The Father, knowing that anyone who wields it in totality could tip the scales, separated it into four pieces to represent each of them. He and his children then imprisoned the Mother and hid the pieces throughout the galaxy.”


Dahlia takes a careful step back, “The Etheralis was forged…by gods?”


“They existed long before the galaxy is what it is now. Some hold that they are deities; others posit they are supreme beings with extraordinary power. We believe they are where the nature of The Force originated. The truth is not something mortals can truly comprehend. They disappeared a long, long time ago. There are legends that say they were trapped within the galactic barrier they created and destroyed, and others alleged they merged into the Force itself. No one knows exactly what happened, but their essence remains throughout the galaxy. We owe so much of what we have, the very structures of some of the known systems and technological advancements, to them.”


Dahlia knew the prophecy was old, but not that it harkened back to The Ones. It paints everything in a more predestined light. Something tainted with a higher purpose. It’s not like the subject of religion is unfamiliar to her. Classes at Valor Prep covered various mysticism, religion, and spirituality, and their influence and impact across galactic history. Neither Celeste nor Rutherford believed or outwardly practiced any faith that they shared with her, Dane, and Gemma. It was not a household cultivated in religion, but more in fortitude and wit. Byproducts of a reality the Voss-Ra helped shape. She has heard of the Celestials but only in the context of the distant past, deities that have long since fallen out of worship to the masses. To the Voss-Ra’s point, power and greed have become the new gods.


“Ok, but what does the Etheralis have to do with us?”


“What do you think the corrupted Jedi Imri used to make Persephone fertile?”


The Elders grow more frantic, speaking excitedly.


“The original Four were conceived in dark side magic through a piece of the Etheralis, the essence of the Son channeled through the totem, and Winton’s seed, a bloodline imbued with the Mother’s essence in one of her many attempts at escape. She no longer cared for balance or unity, and in those she fought, she came across a man named Winton and let him live where all others perished, chosen, leaving in him a sliver of her very essence. Off he went to live his life, and generations later, Persephone Keto fell in love with Darryl Winton. And so, Imri brought the future of the Sith into our world. To create life where none existed.”


Her eyes widen.


“It’s use forever bound them to the artifact and created the Legacy gene Medivh Guldon, and Alexander Winton later discovered and exploited. Now, do you see? A totem forged by immortals buried the key to immortality within the very fabric of their genetic structure, which can only be unlocked through two descendants, each with a recessive gene. It was the case with Kyri Patten and Blair Gellar, as well as Celeste Masterton and Rutherford Gellar. Valerie Gellar once held that key, but it is Dane Gellar who holds it now.”


“Which is why Schrag was so keen for the Empire to gain guardianship of Gemma and Dane. To harvest the Legacy Gene, as our fathers had, and use Gemma as a martyr in the Republic’s fight against Force sensitives. He succeeded on the latter front, but his agents did not have the skill with the genetics, and he clearly lacked understanding of what he was really trying to do.”


“Exactly. He had mechanisms of control, assets now in our possession that have served us well in undermining the Republic, but Gellar is worth so much more than his corporate holdings. You fended that off marvelously, stalling for time while Barrett Trevaithan courted you in full view. A pairing that the public could get behind and be distracted by. Although Schrag did attempt to extend his rule, the two of you ultimately foiled this foolish plan, and Trevaithan slew him on Byss. Compelling victories, to be sure.”


“Then I supposedly died and shattered that illusion.”


“Something we will turn to our advantage. Heartbreak, despite the very real and present horror unfolding around the Republic worlds, generates sympathy, which is why Trevaithan remains an influential figure, albeit one who represents the Empire. Your reunion and subsequent accusations will prove too much for the fragile and significantly weakened Republic. After all, the Etheralis has played such a massive, if not largely unseen, role in all that we have done. All that has happened to you and those before you.”


She stumbles back, thrown by it all. Seif is there to steady her. It was difficult for him to grasp when they told him. A rare bit of context when they presented his armor with the fragment set inside it to highlight the significance of their gesture. In this, they placed their faith in him, and it drove his faith in them moving forward. Few know of its existence, and fewer still of its connection to the prophecy.


Elder A’kram turns cautious, “A piece of the Etheralis makes the wielder stronger, but together, it would make them nearly invincible. But as it could give them power, it could also destroy them. If used against one of The Four, it may end all hopes of fulfilling the prophecy and bury the Sith forever, which is why they remain separated.”


She recovers slightly, taking several breaths before raising her eyes to them.


“Where did they hide them? And how were they even found? The galaxy is massive. They could have hidden them anywhere, yet they have all been located if our assessment of the situation is correct.”


“Millennia upon millennia have passed. More time than we can even fathom. Stories woven through history and legend have sent disciples of the dark in search of them. Aside from Alexia Winton, we know of one other who located it, and only because our former brothers of the Krath showed him the way. Of the four fragments…


One kept at Empress Teta, a tribute to Persephone. It is where we built our shrine. You see, Imri killed Winton and Keto before the Jedi appeared and separated the children. Imri vanished, and the Voss-Ra took the fragment before they could find it. We believe they killed him to further silence anyone who may have had any knowledge of the prophecy or a hand in its origin. As it was with Imri, so too do we believe they did away with Corrin, the Jedi who delivered you and Celeste Masterton to Rutherford Gellar in the Corporate Sector.


One found its way to The Wheel, now at the center of Coruscant. In this, Lady Adubell did exactly as instructed. It was where it needed to be to amplify the combined powers of The Four to rebuild what was lost, what an abomination took away. A new beginning, and a new homeworld.


One hidden within Centerpoint Station. The anomalous nature of the Corellian Sector is a testament to The Ones' will. The Daughter and Son united as the Architects who constructed the station with gravity well radiation, generating enough power to alter spacetime and conceal its presence. They used it to imprison the Mother and shape the Corellian system, but once Karen Winton’s command ship, The Corporeal Quandary, was flown into its heart, the failsafe was brought down, and the call of the Etheralis beckoned. She revealed its power.


And finally, one buried on Korriban, at rest with the old Sith Masters. We do not know which Dark Lord brought it there, but it is the one Alexia Winton led us to, and the one presented to Inquisitor Involis to safeguard. It made him more powerful and allowed him to leverage its power to hunt and strike down the Jedi. Because of this, the believers in the light are practically extinct, which is the opening your victory will use to restore power to the dark.”


It is almost too much to comprehend, and so she settles for stifling a scream. The scope of the prophecy and the depth of their belief dislodges whatever fraction of stability she clawed together over the years.


“Grateful as we are for your trust in us with this information,” Seif interjects grimly. “But Adubell already has two of the fragments.”


They are horrified, whispering in a language neither of them understands. It is Elder A’kram who addresses them again.


“You know this for certain?”


“Inquisitor Feraas confirmed as much when he attempted to take the piece in my armor. If she obtains the others, by your own admission, she would be even more formidable and hold the power to destroy everything we have worked for. Considering we have this piece and Coruscant remains reconstructed for the time being, we can assume she has the pieces from Centerpoint and…Empress Teta.”


Sati hisses, “The replica and her Jedi companion breached our sanctuary. They let her in.”

“She stole it from you? Rude.”


“No. To prevent it from falling into the hands of the Jedi, the Voss-Ra disciples gave it to her to protect. We did not realize what it would do to her or how long it has compelled her to go after them. As far as we know, she is not among the descendants of The Four, but it appears to have reshaped how she views the prophecy and her role in it. It also made its signature familiar, which is why the other called out to her from Centerpoint. The protections around it finally degraded enough after all the Republic’s continued exploration, and she retrieved it while framing the Corellians for the loss of Republic lives.”


“If she is collecting them, she must have some idea what they are and what they can do. She would use these against us.”


“And she knows where the last two are. It was easier to go after the one I have since it would leave only Coruscant, and she turned the Inquisitors against us to do it. Whatever she said swayed them entirely. They would have killed us both and taken it.”


“I don’t understand, how could it have changed her?”


“The Etheralis affects each wielder differently.”


Her mind flashes to the Bolerathon Tower and the Inquisitor attack. One minute, they were engaged in combat in the Winton penthouse, the Etheralis fragment glowing between them, and the next on Coruscant’s newly terraformed landscape.


“What kind of effects?”


“Variable,” Bashir says flatly. “Precognition, healing, time-manipulation, even teleportation. Effects we know you have experienced.”


“Yes. It is how we survived the explosion on Hesperidium, but your colleagues on Byss did not wish to discuss it despite its relevance.”


“They have other objectives. Our acolytes and disciples are not privy to everything the Etheralis can do. Even out of the larger galactic public eye, impersonating the Imperial Emperor takes considerable effort, and so they must focus their energy there. As for Adubell, you may retrieve the two fragments once she comes to the end of her path. You will bring them all to Coruscant, a newly formed world and living conduit for the Force and epicenter for the Sith’s return and rule.”


Princess Dahlia sees the opportunity and capitalizes on it.


“So much could go wrong, which is why we need to know the ways this piece of the Etheralis may assist in our mission. It saved us before, but only by the grace of The Ones. Teach us how to use it against the Republic and, if necessary, against Adubell. We cannot fail again.”


There is hesitation, even as they assess her fiery determination and the state of Seif’s armor. They see her so clearly now, burning like her face in the flames. He watches them deliberate. It is almost second nature to close off any avenue to the truth, but they have come so far. It was more than he expected, but they still held the power to take it away. One step through the ward and they would remember nothing. The sympathy they attempted to stir in conjuring the visions of his dead mother could work both ways.


“Atonement is close, Elders. If Dahlia Winton is truly the one to fulfill the prophecy, you must provide all the tools to succeed in this role she was meant to play. I will do my part, this I swear. For Winton. For the Covenant.”


The five Elders raise their arms and eyes. Outside the ward, flames illuminate the cavern.


“We accept. While your armor is repaired, we will teach you what we know. First, you will need time to contemplate and digest what we have told you.”


“And you will let us keep this knowledge?”


Elder Ni’jad closes a hand together into a tight fist from above on the dais, the air around them flashing once more before bursting into tiny pieces of ash that swirl to the ground. He gestures widely, a motion for them to leave the circle.


“For Winton. For the Covenant.”







-TBC
3
OOC Cantina / Re: Server Outages Possible
« Last post by Syren on August 16, 2025, 05:16:45 PM »
I like it here. Totally understand from a reach perspective, but not a fan of the toxic rage bros that lurk in such places.
4
OOC Cantina / Re: Server Outages Possible
« Last post by SWSF Hoppus on August 15, 2025, 08:39:12 AM »
I'm happy to try anything, including continue to host this site (at the same time, as backup, whatever). I've been very lazy on a very old shared hosting plan, I need to move off it onto a real server. It's a time thing.. maybe this coming week I can make time to at least get that ball rolling and have us moved over by end of the summer.
5
OOC Cantina / Re: Server Outages Possible
« Last post by gallpizi on August 12, 2025, 09:41:54 PM »
The downside might be if we wanted to go back to old school style simming but you probably could do that there as well.
6
OOC Cantina / Re: Server Outages Possible
« Last post by Medivh on August 12, 2025, 12:15:58 PM »
Is there any merit for us to move our forum onto a more popular site, like Discord?

Discord does allow for story posts, as well as for instant-chatting, and it might open doors to recruiting more individuals to our small cult of star wars fandom.
7
OOC Cantina / Re: Server Outages Possible
« Last post by Syren on August 11, 2025, 11:20:11 AM »
Yay, we're back! Thanks, Hop!
8
OOC Cantina / Re: Server Outages Possible
« Last post by SWSF Hoppus on August 04, 2025, 04:50:29 PM »
welp it happened, im going to attempt to get us on to a new server as soon as I can. but very busy so not sure when that will be.
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OOC Cantina / Server Outages Possible
« Last post by SWSF Hoppus on July 30, 2025, 05:33:04 PM »
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Star Wars: The Crimson Covenant / Re: CC: The Crimson Covenant
« Last post by Syren on July 23, 2025, 08:40:44 PM »
“Hey, all
Don’t you give in to the games they play
They bend minds of all
But never change their ways.”


-Common Saints


Dathomir

Surface: Temple of the Voss-Ra

Following Elder A’kram, they descend further and emerge into an inner sanctum.


The room is massive, far walls ensconced in craggy shadows, where others await them. Three Voss-Ra Elders – Bashir, Sati, and Tariq – stand on three points of a large circle carved into the ground. Elder A’kram takes his place on the fourth. In the center, above them, Elder Ni’jad stands on a stone dais and motions for Seif and Dahlia to enter the circle. She takes a defensive stance, flicking both wrists as she levitates off the ground. The darkness mixing with the emerald of her eyes pleases them immensely, a true testament to all they have worked toward.


“You have nothing to fear, Your Highness. No harm will come to you here.”


“Not sure I believe that.”


“Yet it is you who came to us.”


Seif considers this. They had arrived unannounced at their sacred site, demanding an audience, making threats. As angry as he is, they must indulge them in these rituals. He nods to her, and she plants both heeled boots back on the ground. They cross the circle together and stand on either side of the dais where Elder Ni’jad raises his arms and recites an incantation that reverberates into the corners of the cavern. The air around them flashes and shimmers brightly before solidifying into a translucent barrier seemingly sealing them inside.


Elder A’kram waves a thickly robed arm slowly in front of him. “We may speak freely.”


“What the hell was that? What did you do?”


“Erected a ward,” Elder Ni’jad says pointedly. “To keep our words among those meant to hear them.”


“And the catch?”


“Crossing it before we bring it down will remove those words from your memories. Choose them carefully.”


He should have known. They have always been secretive, evasive, but he has never felt they intentionally misled him – or so he thought. Until Dahlia, he had never questioned them. Placing his faith in theirs. Every insidious suspicion she had raised had infected him over the past year, and then his errors were laid bare at Contruum. The Voss-Ra is nothing if not cunning, but he will not let it deter him from extracting what he came for.


“I ask you to do the same.”


Elder Bashir clasps his pale, thin fingers together. “Very well. Tell us why you have returned.”


“For the truth.”


The finality of his tone is not lost on any of them. His earlier admission was a twist she did not see coming, although it explains his behavior since they departed Contruum. So, that is what the Inquisitor told him. Something about his mother. Nothing like a bit of family trauma to bring everyone together. The trick with her father almost threw her, but she recovered quickly enough. She had never seen him outside of photage, carefully selected stills she imagined were meant to curate a certain perception. One that didn’t immediately scream he’d be hijacking the legacy gene, banging his absolutely bonkers sidepiece, and traipsing across the galaxy as immortals. The wonders of branding. She contemplates what the Voss-Ra will do, considering what they stand to lose. Seif appears in no mood to be dazzled by their glamours and guile.


Elder Ni’jad nods from the dais, “You shall have it. It is time.”


“It is time.”
“It is time.”
“It is time.”
“It is time.”


Now?” Dahlia asks skeptically. “You have never been forthcoming in the past with anyone as far as I can tell. Not even with him, the one you kept so close. Do you now offer because you have the power to strip that knowledge from us, or does the prospect of losing him and thereby this chance at fulfilling the prophecy make sharing a more attractive option?”


Elder Sati’s rebuke is sharp: “We have been opaque, and intentionally so. Our history with the prophecy is…complicated. We feel discretion best.”


“Where has it gotten you? In this, the Inquisitors were not wrong to point out your failures. You are dangerously close to losing control, again, and I have played my role well for all of you. As you trained and instructed me. Hidden away at the Citadel Inquisatorious until I took up the mantle of Involis and served our mission. I need you to do better than it’s complicated. That, I have earned, Elders. For Winton. For the Covenant.”


“We agree, but do not discount our methods. We have our reasons. As you well know, not everything is what it seems. Where shall we begin?”


“Let us start with the question you have yet to answer. My mother.”


Tariq’s serpentine lisp is almost wistful. “Yes, your mother. Beautiful, reckless. Traits shared by many associated with the prophecy. You were taken from her, hidden from your parents, all because of elitist hatred fueled by war. Therefore, you could not be used by them or others who served their own needs.”


“Instead, you used me?”


“To be used in service of the prophecy is the greatest honor. A holy purpose. Our end is tied to the rise of the Sith, which means you are missing the point. You were taken, but we did not take you. You were given to us. All we were told was that this was part of a larger plan to keep Elle Greyson from the Federation Viceroy and under the family’s control.”


“But you knew she was alive?”


“Not until much later. While your father’s exploits spilled out into the public, culminating in a conflict on Corellia that threatened to engulf the galaxy, we never knew what became of your mother.”


“With as much knowledge as you have and hoard, forgive me if I find that difficult to fathom. You told me she died.”


“Given the nature of your birth and how your family reacted, we assumed the worst. Even though she survived, she was a prisoner to her family as well as the visions. The things she saw likely began to consume her. It was only calling out through the Force, establishing that connection, that we discovered she was alive. Protecting you from your father was obvious, but we could never be certain Elle Greyson was not being used as a weapon against the prophecy. Another of Alexander Winton’s ploys. We did not attempt to find out, and we never told you.”


He draws in a quick breath, swallowing the wave of dread. “And now?”


“She is gone, her voice silenced in our minds. After the Jedi found her.”


“They killed her.”


“That, we do not know.”


He is crushed but also relieved. They have much less to gain through deceiving them now, and so he takes some comfort in that. There is nothing he can do about it anyway. One more thing he must accept. Despite these answers, the anger does not dissipate entirely.


“If you had no hand in her fate, why not tell me? Why let me believe she was dead all this time?”


“There was a clear and credible threat if anyone discovered who you were, and we would not set you on that path. For your benefit, as well as ours. We told you that you were important, but even that does not begin to explain the depth of it.”


“I know.”


“Yes, but you do not understand. The Greyson name is intertwined with the prophecy itself, and the source of the visions that have been passed down through generations. The seers of the cycles with visions more powerful than those we could ever conjure. The Greyson line holds the true form of the prophecy as the Persephonea Oraculum. Some, Princess Dahlia already knows, as it was shared by her captor and Master, so many years ago.”


All eyes fall on her. Put on the spot. The images surface in her memory, things she had disregarded due to more pressing, selfish matters. Things that were there all along.


“Do you remember what you saw, what the holocron showed you?”


“A corrupted Jedi, creating life where none existed. There was an archivist, or something like that, another Jedi sent to Naboo, afflicted with knowledge of where we came from and what our bloodlines meant. She broke the code and fell in love, and the prophecy entered the chat, so to speak. She introduced the visions into the bloodline so that once our fathers joined with a Greyson, our mothers saw the prophecy too. A prophecy the Jedi tried desperately to hide.”


Stunned, Seif turns to her, “You…never told me you knew this.”


“You were never much interested in the things I had to say on Byss. Something tells me you hear me now.”


She looks among the Voss-Ra with narrow eyes, emboldened.


“These bits and pieces do us no justice. Your lack of transparency has cost us all dearly. A whisper here, a suggestion there. Conspiring in the shadows won’t get us what we all want. For this to be finished. Fulfilled. If we are taking a different approach in this cycle, then might I suggest you commit to that. Confessing may well be the key to unlocking what has so long eluded your grasp. What have you kept hidden from us?”


“You think you want these answers, but the burden is great. This is why there are five Elders chosen among us to share it with – four to oversee and one to validate. Our rituals guide us, but a scope this vast can only be influenced, not controlled. Not entirely. That is the mistake so many who come to know these words make. The Jedi wanted to keep this buried and those descendants as far from one another as the galaxy is wide without realizing that by attempting to conceal it set it all in motion.”


Seif steps back from the dais and sighs, “A clandestine plot guised as faithful stewardship.”


“Destiny is not a plot. Perhaps we have been more judicious than was necessary, but one can never be too careful with such things. What you decry as secrecy and manipulation is merely a failsafe against creating more who would twist it as others have. In these ways, we are the keepers of it. The Crimson Covenant. An Oraculum may see deeply into the prophecy, but they could not decipher it alone. It seldom made any kind of sense to them or anyone else. No one to connect it to the things happening around them. That is its power.”


“No one to connect these things…without the Voss-Ra. A symbiosis of your own. If you have this knowledge, why not intervene?”


“Direct intervention is not our purpose. Our connection with the Oraculum allows us to interpret what they see through our own magics, bringing order to the chaos of their mind. It is not always precise or perfect, and so we must choose the paths to take with the information we channel from the conduits. The Voss-Ra also cannot directly kill one of The Four. We can only facilitate interactions or create circumstances where death becomes more probable in service of it. Influence, not control. This was not feasible or sustainable in the early cycles, but it became our focus. We swore this as part of the Covenant because in our past, the Voss-Ra did not operate in the interest of the prophecy.”


Seif shudders at the thought, “What do you mean?”


“Before our time, the Voss-Ra tried to stop it. Our Order ferried Persephone away, cursed her sterile, to maintain the rule of the Keto dynasty on Empress Teta, but it only began the first cycle. The corrupted Jedi called upon the darkest aspects of the Force to spark life in the third-born daughter of the Empress, stolen from her the way Seif was stolen from his mother. Thus, the Royal Four of the Force were brought into these worlds.”


“Really? What changed?”


“The Voss-Ra disciple who advised the Empress and the Guild did so to keep them in power and our Order in favor. Through these actions, we realized our part in this was never to stop it but to bring it to pass. And so, as atonement, we began to seek out the descendants, following the bloodlines across sectors and star systems.”


“And brought them together.”


Elder Ni’jad nods, “After Centerpoint, we thought it was over. Our best chance imploded with that station. We communed with the dark spirits, performed our rituals, and beseeched the Oraculum to reveal what came next. In the blood magic, we saw a new Four. Left separated, they each held potential to bring galactic peace that would allow the light to flourish.”


“An abomination of the abomination.”


“We intended to hunt and kill you all before that ever happened, but as you grew, a new future began to take shape. Patterns that confirmed a new cycle and with it the promise of the Sith rising once more in Winton’s triumph, if only you could be brought together. We took more drastic measures this time. Guided by the Oraculum’s visions, Elle’s visions, influencing pieces that led to ruin so many times before. She outlined the course of this cycle, showed us the way. She is the reason you both stand before us now, as allies, united in this journey.”


A sympathetic ploy, one he does not take. Instead, he pushes them further.


“And again, you have allowed another the opportunity to bring it down around us.”


“Do not be so easily fooled by what you see on the surface,” Tariq counters gravely. “Lady Adubell, like Winton, allowed the prophecy to corrupt them. Believing they play roles they are not meant to play. It led Winton to his end. Adubell will follow and take others with her. We have seen it.”


“I’m still stuck on the part where you were going to kill us,” Dahlia scoffs with a shake of her head. “When you revealed yourselves to the four of us on The Wheel as kids, you could have done it. You meant to do it.”


“Yes,” Sati replies without a trace of remorse. “But we saw your power and the potential it held.”


“Lucky for us.”


“Your interpretations have been wrong before, and you gambled with their lives long after that. Striking down Masterton and Patten would have served these goals, but if I had triumphed over Winton, this would all be over!”


“We would never have known the two of you could unite unless there was a confrontation. That came with risks, but our faith remains, and here you both are.”


“Removing myself as a threat to her does not diminish the threat Adubell poses to us all.”


“Adubell’s thirst for revenge and need for control, untethered by the bounds of morality and mortality, has left her with a singular focus. Much like Alexander Winton, she will pursue it to that conclusion, which leaves an opening for you to then seize upon it. As we have said, it is the mistake they so often make. It is the nature of power and always ends the same.”


“Wow. What a convenient way for you to avoid any accountability.”


“No one is denying we have used others to help us achieve our goals, or in doing so, some have gone too far. Their involvement held potential to influence the prophecy in our favor, and therefore, it is a risk we took. We may not have collaborated with Adubell and her…operation, but all outcomes provide opportunities to drive things forward and set up the elimination of the remainder of The Four. Affection for them, waning or not, is of no consequence to their fates. Not this time.”


“Still, a dangerous gambit. One that has not yet paid off. Faith can be misplaced.”


“That it can, but we have learned much throughout our history. They are not the first. Others, before them, also tried to capitalize on what the prophecy appeared to offer them. It self-corrected in ways we never could have imagined and took several cycles before we were able to track patterns and map associations as they related to the outcomes. That is where Alexander Winton’s work with Medivh Guldon took us by surprise. A gateway to isolating The Four through their very genes. If he had only stayed the course. He bent this marvel, this gift, so thoroughly it was nearly impossible to untangle from within his cycle.”


His cycle? That would mean his overlapped with Karen and Alexia’s.”


“By design, my dear.”


“If the Winton was my father, who were the others?”


“The Four in that cycle were Alexander Winton, Celeste Masterton, Kyri Patten, and Rutherford Gellar.”


“That doesn’t track,” Dahlia objects sternly. “Neither Celeste nor Rutherford died during that time. And Celeste wasn’t even a Masterton by birth.”


“Actually, she was. One who married another with the Masterton name.”


“You…you did that. Were you behind the death of my parents as well?”


“They were not your parents, Princess Dahlia. But no, you have the Empire to thank for that. They want Gellar for his connections and resources while using the rest of you as valuable commodities to be leveraged where necessary. Put simply, greed and power. Not terribly original, but not unexpected either. Emperor Schrag was wise to diversify his approach to fortifying the faction, even if he could not quite execute on it in the end and lost his life at Trevaithan’s hand. A course corrected. You see, Alexander Winton, in his quest for immortality, had to die to achieve it. And die he did, before Celeste Masterton and Rutherford Gellar. His ambition may have ended his cycle, but his first life ended at the direction of none other than Kimber Patten.”


Dahlia gasps. Seif’s mouth is fixed into a frown.


Sati snorts, “They thought they were so clever trying to hide her in the Hapes Cluster. Rescuing her from the clutches of the Empire only for her to turn around and use that tor
ment to order his death. He may have overstepped his authority with an egregious audacity, but it was she who began the new cycle.”

“As Melanie began ours. That’s…insane. I thought they were both, like, light. Or good.”

“Those are only words. Kimber Patten may have been born with a face for the fools to believe, but she did unspeakably cruel things while in service to the Empire. We all hold capacity for evil, but not all evil serves these ends. Your father broke her because he could. Given his…inclinations, Alexander’s resourcefulness allowed us to use him to gather the successors long before his execution. We knew we needed to act quickly if the cycle failed due to his hubris, and so, Karen Winton, Melanie Masterton, Kimber Patten, and Valerie Gellar were already in place with established connections exactly when they needed to be. Things already in motion and significantly farther along.”


“Quite the setup,” Seif tuts darkly. “Ruthlessly efficient, as usual.”


“Yes, well, we saw him giving in to the same temptations we had seen before and leveraged that lust for power to unleash The Beast in Alexia to test Karen, who prevailed and seemed poised to bring us victory and fulfill the prophecy once their cycle began. We miscalculated Alexander Winton’s moral abandonment and subsequent betrayal of Medivh, Karen Winton’s surprising pragmatism, and Melanie Masterton’s cold resolve. It was as close as we ever came.”


Miscalculation? That must have been quite disappointing after so much effort and planning. Tell me, how exactly did my father abandon his morals? I was under the impression he never had those to begin with. You clearly anticipated this, so why the surprise?”


The Elders exchange furtive glances. It is Elder Bashir who continues.


“Your mother, as it turns out. Queen Monica Greyson received the visions as well, but these were less debilitating than her sisters. She named those in the next cycle, which gave us time to plan accordingly but also provided your father with leverage of his own. As an Oraculum, she would whisper the words of the texts, speaking of great power for Winton, and their connection to the Sith. It was fragmented, full of non-sequiturs, and he decided he needed to get his hands on something more tangible than the ramblings of his wife. He used his position within the Imperial Security Bureau to track the location of Sith artifacts throughout galactic history. It is in this search that he found Korriban, or Moraband, as it is now called. Convinced the prophecy was hidden there, he sent Alexia to find her destiny, a destiny he promised her…but the text is not what she discovered.”


“What did Alexia find?”


Elder A’kram motions to the center of Seif’s battered armor.


“That very piece of the Etheralis.”







-TBC
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