Achieveing your goals through compulsion, coercion, and torture with notes on ethical flexibility (open RP)

Megan Blackadder stands at a table in the front of the room with her back to the class.  She is dressed as usual in a floor length skirt, boots, bandeau top, detached sleeves and gauntlets, all in shades of dark red and black.  Her long wavy red hair tumbles down past her bare shoulders and her flesh is white and dead with the marks of corruption vivid and stark.  On the table is a cage with some sort of small and furry mammal confined within it.

Without turning, she speaks in a soft voice, "so, who has come to learn from me?"

She turns, her unnatural red eyes glowing, and offers a smile as her hand comes up to show that she is tightly grasping the stem of a black and brittle rose that apparently has had the life-force sucked from it.

Valaria sat at the back of the class. She was an instructor herself rather than a student but she was certainly not the type not to take advantage of being in one of the better academies in the Empire. She would at the very least listen to what the other instructors taught when her own duties allowed for it. After all there was always more to learn. In contrast to the woman at the front of the class, Val seemed utterly untouched by corruption. Her skin was tan, healthy and unblemished and her eyes a lovely green. She smiled softly as she took it all in, curious as always.

Hurme too sat at the back of the class, as usual. What was unusual was her posture. Instead of her usual slouching, the mohawk haired woman was sitting up straight and paying close attention to the Sith in front of the class, as the presence of current instructor made her slightly nervous. She glances at the other people gathered to in the class room, some of them she already knew and some she've never seen before. She saw Valaria sitting not far from her, also in the back of the class, and seeing that soft smile, even though not directed to Hurme herself, gave her the courage to raise her hand and open her mouth to answer the question of the instructor. "Jira Sanguen, or Hurme as many call me. I came here to learn."

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Louhi was sitting on the seat nearest to the exit. This red haired woman was a rare sight in the classes of the Coil, since she was not the student herself. After noticing the subject of the class she went to ask for a permission to participate. And now here she was, sitting in her practical green field uniform, observing -everything- and paying close attention to the instructor in the front of the class. With confident and yet soft voice she spoke, "Agent Louhetar, my lady. Imperial Intelligence. With your permission I would like to attend this class."

Pelagie had decided to attend this class because she as unfamiliar with the instructor and because the title of the course had proved too attractive to pass up. It almost seemed like the laying down of a gauntlet, but such would not be uncommon at all within the Sith. She had strode into the classroom in her usual attire, most of the promise of her curvy, pale flesh on display to any who might care to look. Her stylized purple hair and orange eyes seemed perhaps even more striking than the half-naked form of her body, and those orange eyes quickly scanned the room.

She was a bit surprised to see Louhi here, and she gave the Agent a very subtle smirk and slow rise of her eyebrows by way of greeting. She was very familiar with Zirallax's retainer, if that is indeed what she was, and how deadly and cold the woman could be out in the field. She could not help but wonder a bit at why the woman was here. It was certainly not unheard of for non-force users to be admitted as students in the Coil, but despite such being rare, that privilege had not been afforded to Louhi, as far as she knew. A nigh imperceptible shrug of her shoulders was all she belied of her thoughts on this matter.

She then noticed the Lady Valaria, ostensibly here to either observe or perhaps even evaluate the instructor. Pelagie certainly had taken notice of the Lady, for it seemed her rise within the ranks here was proving quite astonishing. The purple-haired student gave a dip of her head and slight bend of her knees as respectful greeting to the woman.

A more open smirk then took her lush lips as she spied Hurme. She sauntered over, slipping into a place near the other student, giving her a more open grin and somewhat slitted eyes. The look suggested much, but all she did then was turn her focus to the teacher, watching, studying.

"Pelagie Foozhair," she announced herself after Louhi had spoken, a light raise of her right hand, palm out, arm bent at the elbow, added as though some instinctive signal to her speaking.

Valaria returned nod of the head to Pelagie with a slight smirk on her lips as the other three ladies spoke up. She only let her gaze linger on the purple haired Sith's exposed flesh for a little bit before she turned back to the front of the room, looking once again at the instructor.

"Valaria" she said giving her own name without title or surname. If the instructor knew her that was fine, and if she were taken for a student, very well to that as well. She could observe the instructor without her acting different than she usually did. Besides it was a compliment if she was assumed to be young enough to be a student.

Nods to each person as they speak their name while she opens her hand and pulls the thorns from her flesh where they have penetrated the soft leather over her palm, then drops the dead rose to the floor. "I am Megan Blackadder of the Sith.  Among the things I have to teach you are concepts that may well be regarded as heretical among the dark adepts of the Empire."

Her hand brushes over the metal cage and sparks fly, making the little animal jump and twitch, she watches this for a moment with a smile on her purple lips before looking back at the class.

"First, I wish to speak of ethical flexibility.  Too often we Sith seem to be wedded to a course of unthinking violence and cruelty even when it runs counter to the aims of the Empire.  While indiscriminate killing and carnage are undeniably entertaining and emotionally satisfying they often produce results that are unforeseen and unwanted."

She pauses to take a drink of some green liquid from a delicate crystal goblet before continuing.

"Some among us would call it soft or weak when you leave someone alive instead of killing them, when you spare someone so that they will come to your banner against the Republic, but by these actions you can create a ripple that spreads into a community and turns them away from resistance or even towards our side.  Dead bodies are martyrs, are symbols to rally to, are inspirations to resistance."

She takes another sip from her goblet and then looks at each person in the room.

"Do not mistake me, I do not speak of mercy or compassion in any way, I speak of calculation.  You must know when to kill and when to spare in order to bring the greatest benefit to the Empire.  Docile sheep do not need as many guards and aliens suborned into serving the empire conserve the lives of our soldiers."

Her hand touches the cage again, perhaps without her even realizing it, and more shocks torment the little creature inside.

"Do not concern yourself with those who might call you weak or foolish, other than to plot against them of course and punish them for doubting you.  Do what you have to in order to accomplish your mission with the least effort and expenditure of Imperial resources and entertain yourself with the screams of the innocent on your own time.  Are there any questions thus far?"

Valaria listened with a light smile on her lips to Megan's lecture. She could not say she disapproved of the woman's words. They were harsher perhaps than her own general feeling but the end result was similar. She totally agreed that a good Sith did what was best given the situation rather than giving into baser urges all the time. Still she had no questions and remained silent as she observed the instructor.

Pelagie watches and listens with a seeming calm attention. She finds the teacher amusing, interesting, but this lesson is nothing new to her. Still, there may often be much more to learn in these classes than the seemingly obvious curriculum leaving the instructor's lips. In fact, she has quite regularly found the more important lesson to be in what is not explicitly addressed.

She raises her right hand, again palm out, just lifting her arm a bit from where she holds them crossed, elbows bent, leaning a bit forward in her seat. This action still seems her own physical idiosyncrasy when in class, as though a subconscious announcement of her intent to speak. And she does so.

"I am usually not inclined to grant enough attention to each and everyone who doubts me that I would actively plot to harm or kill them. Doesn't it give them too much power to allow every ignorant simpleton that much control? A yawn might be the best they get out of me, if even that much.'

"And this ... efficiency of which you speak," she continues, moving her lush lips in thought, "Wouldn't just killing everyone in the way be more efficient?" she concludes, raising her eyebrows a bit, orange eyes widening as though a punctuation to the inquiry.