Korriban

[Exodus]

As a Watcher, Exodus oversaw the friction that now bound two of his most promised weapons and the measures that each of them took. Their instinctive behaviours were similar but differed in execution unmistakably; this kind of information was what he would explore in order to distinguish the type of men and creatures he had use of. The importance of what he intended to create within the superstructure of the Sith would start with an unbreachable foundation, and he was determined to find the weaknesses in the walls of his Empire. Kain had a keen and deceptive touch, but was limited to the confines of industrial sciences, which in itself was a wide world. Keenava was unbound with absolute power between her palms, but her presence and her singularity needed to be carved out, which would come with time. Exodus would continue to furnish them as he saw fit, and mold the Order into a masterful mecca.

 

• “It would seem we have more visitors,” Information spilled in from his communications link, his spiders were in all places now and he would need to be on the move.
  

 

In untimely fashion, the fire suppression system erupted from four separate valves. Lather spewed from the two in the southern portion of the torture chamber, while water gushed heavily from the northern exit. Exodus was nothing short of a hair-triggered reaction in all things, impossibly swift. Fixed beneath one of two valves on the northern end, Exodus jerked his head upwards to catch the fall of the water suppression before it could drench him. The magnitude and direction of the spout veered aggressively to the south, unnaturally bending regardless of preexisting vectors. Even quicker, the Dark Lord backpedaled with a slight leap as water and foam began to swamp the room. He never landed. His arms were stretched out beside him while his palms were turned upright, and that exact posturing seemed to somehow explain how he hovered backwards with lackadaisical grace. “Clever.” Exodus understood what was happening, and when the terminals overloaded and short-circuited, he smiled from ear to ear.

 

The powered doors to the rear of him pushed open when he drew within proximity, and while his mannered levitation carried him from the clutter that unfolded, the doors slammed shut as he discarded the chambers. The words of his apprentice brushed into his mind as his feet docked onto metal once more, words that wreaked of a familiar boldness. He was attentive to this trend in his Nightshade, but she would be reminded to tread careful before confidence became her undoing. The lesson would soon be taught, and another to the machine if he failed moving forward. Exodus offered a hardened stare down the tunnel ahead of him, unnervingly still. Then, he blended into the shadows, disappearing from sight. There were strings that needed pulling.

[AVATAR Kain]

Kain watched her leave, unsure how exactly to process the logic of what happened. Clearly, she did not understand some of the subtleties of his maneuver, but regardless, she had left him unscathed. And, whether he liked to admit it or not, presently, she could have killed him. Or, rather, destroyed his body. His coding, the essence of what Kain was, could never be extinguished without a great deal of effort. Even the fail safe that Exodus had implanted within him would result in a recompilation, albeit a nasty one, but doing so would provide him with the code needed to bypass and delete the kill switch from his operating processes.

 

His nanite skin shifted again, resuming the guise of an ordinary droid, and he deactivated the Force presence lattice inside him. He would leave this place with none the wiser. In a short amount of time, he was at his ship, and after, exiting the system. With a pull of a lever, Kain's ship shot into hyperspace like a vaccine into an antivaxxer's kid.

[Keenava Dira]

The dusty red of Korriban’s canyons glared at the Twi’lek as she left the hall of assassins. Eyes of long dead Sith Masters loomed over her, counting her steps and marking her breaths, judging her mercy and seeming abundance of overconfidence. But Keenava ignored them.

 

The Assassin knew what she’d done. And, despite its outward appearance, there was a method to her ‘madness.’ There were other options available to her at the time. Some of them were even preferable than the one she chose. But, in the end, she felt that a show of force was needed. The term ‘break,’ as Exodus used, was vague enough to ply and manipulate. But she didn’t wish to abuse that versatility. Her method, as it was, was to measure up her prey. The information she gleaned from her interaction with the metal man was far more constructive for future altercations than simply destroying him.

 

• He would do anything he could to succeed. Desperate, like an animal in a cage. Fear, or what seemed like fear, ruled his basic reflexes. Her target, would also not be an easy kill. The flesh of it seemed to break easily, but mend quickly. Total and complete manipulation over the metal man was required to render him inoperable. Maybe a lightsaber would cut his skin, but a more appropriate and subtle method would be to put him in a stasis field and wrench him around with telekinetic force. It could be sudden and sneaky. And the move would cause untold destruction to the exterior of the metal man’s frame.

 

Something about the man’s reaction poked at her though. As Keenava made her way toward Sheog’s praxeum, she felt a small tickle at the base of her spine.

She’s a traitor to the Sith Empire…

 

Am I?

 

Keenava wasn’t exactly trustworthy. Lying was a tool to her. It was a tool for all assassins. Illusionism was second nature. And, at her heart, Keenava was a selfish being; all Sith were. Would she lie to get her way if it meant lying to her Master? Would it be worth it? What would she stand to gain?

 

Keenava stopped a few feet before her designated rendezvous point and studied the large sandstone structure in front of her. Red sky and red stone sang stories of blood and war. Deaths of countless usurpers, allies, enemies, kings, lords, and masters echoed in the air. Treachery played in the air and washed through the billowing cloth of her hood. She’d struggled with her choices before. Keenava had been wrestling with that very same idea mere moments before she met the metal man in combat. Was this her path? Was this what she was meant for?

• A picture of Ryloth, unspoiled by time, flashed before her. Her sister was playing with a ball, beckoning her to join. Keenava smiled, a plume of warmth hugging the edge of her sister’s gesture. But, as Keenava appreciated the illusory kindness, an image of her father interposed that image and beckoned in a very similar fashion. And from that point onward, the image of Ryloth began to melt and lose focus. Keenava’s heart wrenched and everything went dark. Golden Eyes came after and years of tearing from this and that.

 

Golden Eyes.

 

It had been a time since she’d thought about him. And yet, last time they saw each other, she vowed never to leave him. Ironically or conveniently, it ended the same as it always had. He’d left. Keenava even made a point to see him when Exodus gave her a week, but he’d left. His labs were cleared and everything seemed to be as it was before he came.

 

 

 

• • Don't run away again…
     
    These words were familiar. But the way he said them was different. His eyes creased a little and his smile remained. She could feel the intention in his mind and heard the song of his heart as it called out to her.
     
    Never…

 

 

Weeks ago, it seemed. And everything had changed. Lies are a tool for assassins…

 

Truth.

 

But her love wasn’t a lie. She would probably always hold some of that love alive. Even when she realized who she was and came to grips with the mind-bending abuse that had torn her identity asunder, she still harbored something for him. Maybe that was her weakness. Maybe stubborn caring was her weakness. But everyone had something. Everyone had their wants and their needs. Exodus had ambitions; ambitions that were good for the Sith Empire, but ultimately, in the end, good for him.

 

Keenava didn’t think that caring too much was a weakness. She understood, on a basic level, why attachments and care could drag you down and weaken your resolve. But she refused to believe that attachments had to be that frail. If your loved ones would not die for you – and vice versa – did they really love you?

 

That didn’t necessarily mean that either of you had to die. But maybe, if called to make the ultimate sacrifice, both of you wouldn’t bat an eye.

 

She didn’t have anyone like that. Furion was gone. Again. She doubted his feelings were genuine, even if they were. The fire still burned, but the oxygen was gone. It was a dim light that refused to dwindle but had been forced down to mere sparks. And her sister. She loved her sister, but she knew nothing of her. That bond hadn’t been rekindled and she wasn’t sure how she felt about it.

 

Still…

 

As Keenava mulled over her sister and thought of her manse on Talus, her team arrived. Each one of them had procured an outfit much the same as hers. However, their outfits were made of black silk, not leather. Procured from Sheog’s finest tailors, these silk copies of Keenava’s outfit were lightweight and easy to maneuver in. They created the illusion of six Keenava’s. And yet, allowed them a little more freedom of movement. Like illusions and mirror images they would surround their objective and strike when the time was right. It wouldn’t work every time, but the idea was one of many that Keenava had thought of while training.

 

And, like mirror images, they were expendable. They were willing to die at a moment’s notice. Exodus had done a service to prove their loyalty and they did not shake in that regard. Did that make them strong? Or was it the aspect of questioning one’s loyalty that made loyalty stronger? Were these sheep? Was that what Exodus meant when he asked her to ‘groom’ them?

 

When she had time, she ordered them all to get brands on their necks, just below the hairline. The brand was a simple line that ran vertically down their spine. Then, when they’d done as she’d asked, Keenava cut her hand and rubbed a bit of her blood on each scar, letting the color of her blood dry and crust on their healing wound.

 

It was a simple act and one that Keenava wasn’t entirely sure of. She tried to imbue her blood with the force and seal the brands with her word, but she wasn’t sure if it worked. Sith alchemy wasn’t really her forte after all. But, with time, she would establish the kind of mental link she was looking for. Then her team would act as she acted. They would be a cohesive killing machine; trained and tailored to the needs of Keenava and the Sith Empire.

 

______________

 

<< Response to Raynuk and Raia Montar>>

 

I am terribly sorry, Master Sheog is currently entertaining a guest. He is thoroughly bored, but also surrounded by food. So, as you can imagine, his interest is elsewhere at the moment. As I am the current acting majordomo for his illustrious gluttony, because the others were eaten, I will see to guiding you to the appropriate landing pad. From there, you may approach the main dining hall to address his illustriousness yourself, or you can entertain yourself in one of the many attractions that the Praxeum has to offer.

 

Please. Enjoy your stay.

Edited June 19, 2017 by Guest

[Raynuk Montar]

After waiting an extensive period of time, the comm board on the Ravenhammer lit up with an incoming message, but Raynuk found himself frowning slightly as a voice that was not Sheog's responded, but an apparent majordomo instead, acting on behalf of the hutt. Still, it was a response and clearance to land at the newly constructed temple. Eyeing the smaller ships that were a continuing presence, he kicked more power into the engines and began to make his descent to Korriban and approach to the temple, making sure to explain to Raia what he was doing every step of the way.

 

The temple itself came into view almost immediately, its new construction standing out to anyone as well versed with the planet as he was, though he had to give the giant slug credit for making the temple blend in among the valley. Sheog had of course notified Ranyuk of the construction's completion, and described it in great detail, but only now, seeing it with his own eyes did he feel the sense of pride and awe at what the temple meant. The Sith would continue to prosper within the galaxy, despite the continuing threats of extermination from CoreSec, the Imperials, and the Galactic Alliance. As they flew the ship closer, he pointed out several of the key parts of the temple complex; the starport, the praxeum, and the three smaller pyramid temples that served to cater to each of the three orders of Sith.

 

Once the Ravenhammer set down in the starport -- which Raynuk was left grumbling about its name given recent events -- he stepped off the ramp, back onto the surface of Korriban once more and could not surpress a smile as he looked up at the temple complex from the surface. He had once again donned his full Sith armor and weapons, intending to meet with Exodus as a pinicle of the order of Sith Warriors, and felt he needed to look the part. Vex'aedr barely contained his own excitement at being able to get off the ship finally, and had preceded Raynuk to the surface and was now a few feet away, sniffing at a crate near the entrance. He turned and looked back up the ramp just as Raia appeared, flanked herself by Roe'gall.

"Welcome back to Korriban Raia." He said, sounding amused. "Hopefully this time you wont desecrate a sarcophagus eh?"

 

he gave Roe'gall a strong scratch on the head as the black tuk'ata passed him, and then called Vex over as well. he took a moment and placed a hand on each of the two massive tuk'atas, and spoke to them through the Force.

 

You both know this planet well, as you both had paid your dues guarding me. But this time, we are not the only ones on Korriban. There are countless others within the temple now, and it would be foolish to not assume some there wish to steal from you the secrets and methods of your creations. Be wary, and do not stray far. Glabājiet viņai droši pirmkārt.

 

He felt a sense of acceptance and acknowledgement from both of them then, and turned to lead the way into the Praxeum. He got no more than two steps however, when the voice of 2-VSH called out, bringing Raynuk to a stop.

 

<

 

Raynuk spun on his heel, and quickly responded. "Oh no no, of course not. I wouldn't make you stay on the Ravenhammer. You are free to wander and enjoy the temple 2V. Its full of Sith who might want to tear you apart if you say something they dont like, and this is the native home planet of tuk'atas after all. Granted the ones here aren't as big as Roe'gall and Vex'aedr, but there are hundreds of them lurking around. Why, if I remember correctly, Master Sheog is attempting to breed them to be more like mine. So feel free to enjoy the temple 2V, but do keep a comm line open in case I need you."

 

The droid's photoreceptors shifted to the side, looking up at the temple before shifting back to Raynuk.

 

<>

 

Raynuk had already turned back around and began walking towards the Praxeum however. "If you insist."

 

A few minutes of walking later, Raynuk and those that were with him passed under the watchful Bronzium statue of the original Unholy Trinity, and he pushed open the door to the main dining hall, entering into the massive room.

 

"Hope I'm not late to the party."

[Dahar Raikanda]

Dahar watched the little girl enter the room and stand in fear of the Hutt lord. He mulled over Sheog's question. What was it that the Jedi deserved to be punished for? In Dahar's mind it was their failures. As a Jedi he had tried to bring some stability to the galaxy by pushing to eliminate those that would bring chaos. But the Jedi refused to do anything, inaction was their sin. But he had also come to realize his own faults, the main one being an assumption that stability was possible, or even worth striving for.

 

The little girl looked from the Hutt over to the former Grandmaster. "Master Dahar?" His name was all she was able to muster through her tears and fear. Hearing it pierced him as if it were a deep insult. Her recognition of who he used to be was salt on the wound of his past as a slave to the Order. He had commanded the Jedi yet was always their prisoner. Perhaps in time he would find a different name...

 

"I did indeed, although it was in the interest of achieving a goal. That goal being penetrating the very heart of the Order itself. And I can no longer see any reason to let things get in the way of my goals. But this," Dahar motioned at the girl, "I see no point in this."

 

Although he had served the Jedi faithfully there had been a great number of years where Dahar had gone off on his own. In that time he learned from the man whom was both Aryian Darkfire and Darth Ares. The Grey Hermit had shown him a few special tricks about bending the Force in unnatural ways to fulfill a need...

 

Dahar looked into the girl and she suddenly became very cold. Visible goosebumps appeared on her skin and her face turned a slightly paler shade. The molecules around her were slowing down and she became almost stuck in place. In contrast to her body, her mind was beginning to stir. Her thoughts sped up, and enhanced by Dahar, she began to see the Force through the power that the Jedi Master had donated to her. She could see her past in clear detail and could glimpse a small picture of herself in the future. She was taller, stronger, with her very own lightsaber. She was beautiful, the woman she had always wanted to grow into. Her padawan braid was gone and she wore the garb of a Jedi Knight. It was everything she dreamed of being some day.

 

With a blink of his eyes Dahar brought her visions to an end, leaving her with only blackness. For a moment she couldn't even see where she was. Her vision returned and so did reality. She would not grow up, never become a Jedi Knight, she would most likely die in this place. Pure terror overtook her as she stood motionless and chilled.

 

Dahar looked at his Sith friend. Sheog, being a Master of the Dark Side, would surely feel in detail what Dahar had done to her. "The goal of that demonstration was to give you a glimpse of the means I am willing to justify in order to achieve my ends. Killing thousands of them would demonstrate to the Jedi just how weak they are and how powerful of an adversary I will become to them." Dahar released the girl from his mental hold. She fell to her knees and gasped for air. "But killing the young and defenseless purely for the sake of it, well I just don't see the point in it."

 

The girl stood up, relieved to be able to slowly gather her wits back together. But she froze in motion when she heard the ignition and hiss of Dahar's amethyst lightsaber blade holding just inches from her ear.

 

"Unless you can tell me the goal achieved in killing her, in which case..."

[Sheog the Mad]

The overlarge Hutt placed the wooden bit of his tobacco-pipe between his shapeless and be-spittled lips, feeling the hard press of the ornately carved Antakarian Briar as he watched the Jedi Master manipulate the Force. The falling Master seemed to show the young apprentice a hopeful future, one bright with fulfilled dreams, before tearing down the facade, leaving only a bitter fear and hopelessness. The Krath Master breathed a small wisp of tobacco into his maw, letting the smoke mull upon his tongue. He could taste the fire-formed aging of the leaves, with hints of spiced rum and leather. The Ancient Lord of Gluttony spoke, his eyes glowing crimson in violet reflection of the Jedi’s blade.

 

<>

 

Another tendril of dirty smoke curled from his asymmetric nostrils, bearing with it a sweet and spiced smell to overpower the obnoxious odour of his sweaty and grimy body.

 

<>

 

The Hutt smiled broadly behind the glow of the embers in his pipe, as he felt a most familiar presence join them. The last glimmers of daylight streamed into the smoky hall, illuminating them all to their new guests.

 

<>

 

The Hutt’s signature in the force blossomed with a glowing insanity, driven by unending hunger.

 

<>

 

The Hutt leaned on his staff, blowing more puffs of smoke excitedly in a cloud about his mountainous form.

 

<>

[Raia Montar]

The length of time that it took the temple to respond had proved to be just long enough for the nervousness to start creeping back into the pit of Raia’s stomach. The prickly feeling at the back of her neck wasn’t something she particularly enjoyed, but it was a feeling she was beginning to get used to.

 

Welcoming the distraction of Raynuk’s explanation of landing and docking procedures, she was already listening to him raptly as he started to point out elements of the Temple that had been built in the month and a half since she’d last set foot here.

 

The odd prickling at the back of her mind had only intensified as they landed, but she’d chosen to accept it as an effect of the radiating dark energies that seemed to occur here naturally. The sight of Raynuk fully armed and armored chased away all but the most stubbornly persistent flutters in her stomach. Roe’gall nudged her slightly as the two of them began their descent down the Ravenhammer’s ramp before both he and Vex’aedr heeled to Raynuk’s side.

 

She took in a deep breath of the chilly night air and took in the sight of the dancing shadows that seemed to make so many of the temple’s statues and reliefs come to life. It was unsettling and maddeningly beautiful at the same time. “I can’t make any promises other than to do my best, Tētis.” She smiled at him as she continued down the ramp, but it wasn’t one of joy, but an effort to project a calm familiarity with the Sith that felt more like a facade than anything.

 

After Raynuk and 2V’s brief exchange, she pulled her hood up and over her head, obscuring her face in the shadows the low hood afforded. Roe and Vex fell along on either side of her, and she noted that their manner had changed slightly, ever so subtly. The two of them seemed to be sniffing the air more often and their steps more purposeful than before. They’re working, she realized, suddenly and remembered what Raynuk and Emily had told her about them and what their purpose for being was. And I’m glad they're on our side, she thought quietly to herself.

 

No one dared interrupt their passage as she followed dutifully behind Raynuk toward their destination until he threw open the doors to a great banquet hall and made their presence known.

 

From under the shadow of her hood, Raia’s eyes fixed on the scene before her - the young girl on her knees with the lavender bladed lightsaber seconds away from ending her life - and tensed, remembering her induction into the Sith Order and wondered if she might break her promise to avoid desecrating things. Which would be better for the girl? Death or service to the Sith?

 

Part of her wanted to cry out, to try to save the girl, but she feared to cause any embarrassment for Raynuk or to outstep her place among the Order, as much as she was beginning to understand it.

 

A flash in her mind’s eye and she was the girl cowed before another’s lightsaber, as though her imagination felt the need to encourage her to hold her peace further.

 

As the great fleshy mountain of a Sith before them spoke, Raia’s jaw clenched against the subtle and seemingly benign Force intrusion into her mind that had somehow crafted and twisted the nonsensical native language to the lilting flow of her native dialect of Dathomiri. The last time someone had done that to her it had been Furion. The feeling of violation that came with the memory was overpowering, and she closed her eyes pushed back, though as firmly and as gently as she could.

 

From her bag, she withdrew the small data pad that Emily had programmed with a translation program for her. Bowing a silent apology to the Sith that could only be Sheog, she stepped from her father’s shadow to stand a half-step behind him.

 

She wasn’t sure why she suddenly felt as though she were ravenously hungry.

[Keenava Dira]

“Alright. Before you go, I wish to have parting words with all of you.” Keenava said, looking at each of her team as she paced the line. “First, if you have need of Exodus, come to me. If Exodus summons you directly, you may report directly to him, but do not go to him without prior permission. It wastes his time. And his time, like mine, is important. Second, if you betray me, Exodus, or the Sith Order, I will find you and gut you myself. No matter where you go; no matter what you do; no matter the resources you employ, I will find you. And I will kill you. Third, feel free to question my orders if you have a just cause to do so. If your advice proves useful, I will reward you. If your advice puts us all in danger, I will punish you.” The assassin paused at the end of her pace and took a long meaningful look at her team before continuing. “Do I make myself clear?”

 

Keenava’s voice trembled with subtle power, echoing the severity of the proclamation she made to them. Each of the black-clad assassins nodded in turn. Then, when Keenava was satisfied with their response, she gave the word for them to disperse. And, like the night that fled as the sun rose, they ran into the evening darkness and vanished. That left Keenava with nothing to do for the first time in a few days.

 

It was… an odd feeling. She didn’t much enjoy not having anything to do – and wagered that most other creatures didn’t either – because speculation often led to dangerous alternatives. But that didn’t mean that it didn’t happen sometimes.

 

Kava, Kana, and Kara were quiet, which meant they had no idea either. And despite the ample fields of red canyons and sand that surrounded her, she did not possess an equal amount of opportunity. Silent grains washed over the fine leather of her boots and tickled her nose. The evening breeze played at her cloak and billowed ever so slightly in the gaps of her armor. The afternoon uncertainty that weighed heavily on her shoulders was a lingering memory and continued to build against the sturdy lapel of her tunic. The weight was confusing and she considered what implication her questions might have when a thought struck her that she hadn’t considered before.

 

She wrinkled her nose and furrowed her brow, but could not, for the life of her, remember if she’d asked Sheog about it. Even at that dinner party, with plenty of opportunity, she had neglected to ask a simple question. With that in mind, the desperately bored Twi’lek set off to resolve her minor curiosity as if it were a mission of the utmost importance. Which, although not very urgent, was the only thing she had to invest energy in at the moment.

 

Figuring the Hutt was in the same spot he was a little while ago, Keenava rushed to the main dining hall and made to formally interject on behalf of her growing curiosity. However, it appeared that Sheog had more guests. Keenava felt presences earlier, but she couldn’t place them. Only now, as she came close to the main dining hall, could she feel the presences grow and take shape. One was a man; the same man she met on two separate occasions. At least, he felt the same. The name Keenava knew was Darth Quietus and somehow he was connected to Emily. But, aside from that, Keenava knew nothing more about the man. She also supposed that he looked a bit different than when she last got a good look at him. Although she couldn’t place why.

 

Next to him, hidden beneath a hood yet brimming with the same nervous energy she had before, was Raia. Keenava wasn’t completely certain, but the power and emotion fit. Whoever she was, she did a good job of hiding her appearance and blending with the woodwork, but the uncertainty was familiar enough to pick out.

 

Behind both of them were two large dogs that looked very imposing. Keenava remembered seeing them at the Last Call, but framing Quietus and Raia as they were, they looked a bit more imposing; almost as if that were their job.

 

The Twi’lek, taking a more nonchalant route, ambled to the front door, clinging on to the side and staring at the other end of the hall where Sheog sat. She pulled her hood down, revealing her ruby eyes and black lekku, and smiled to Sheog before continuing in a legitimately bashful voice. “Hey Sheog, I forgot to ask... Oh hi! I didn’t know we had more guests.”

 

The Twi’lek took a few cautious steps into the room and acknowledged the large dogs before stopping a few feet away from the main table. The Assassin leaned a little to get a closer look at the duo and grinned a little when she saw the girl hiding under the hood.

 

“Hey, Raia. That is you under there, right?” Keenava said, a small tug pulling at the corner of her smile. She paused, feeling the energy of the room for a moment and her expression hardened. She straightened her posture and bowed a little in Quietus’ direction. “Hello as well Master Quietus; apologies for the intrusion. I simply wished to inquire with Master Sheog as to lodgings for the night. It was getting late and I wasn’t sure if we had some drawn up, if we needed to inquire, or if I should just pull up some sand and sleep outside.”

[Raynuk Montar]

Raynuk nodded as Sheog greeted him, letting the smallest of friendly smiles tug at his lips,which quickly faded as the Hutt introduced Dahar. To say that Raynuk had more than a few misgivings about the hutt hosting the apparent ‘former’ Grandmaster of the Jedi would be an understatement, but if what Sheog claimed was true, he would overlook such things. While Raynuk personally was not itching to tear the Jedi from their worlds, he knew the Sith as a whole would be. And when the time came, he would play his part.

 

“Sorry, I’m afraid I haven’t bothered to follow Jedi politics as of recently. But for a Jedi Grandmaster to be here and offering such things... “ he whistled slightly, “Oh how the mighty can fall.”

 

He turned back to Sheog and spoke again. “As for the suite… I’m afraid I have yet to actually look at it. Business first right my old friend? And in that vein, I have things to discuss with you and Exodus, and any other high ranking Sith who is deemed worthy of the council.”

He looked around the room again, weighing the worth of those his gaze fell on, and ultimately decided to not divulge the information he had quite yet. A pair of subtle growls behind him tipped Raynuk off to another approaching presence within the room, and a few moments later he spotted the dark skinned twi’lek walk into the room, first greeting Sheog before turning to Raia and him. She looked familiar, but it wasn't until she spoke that Raynuk managed to place her as Lallu, though last time he had seen her was clinging to the power of Furion and heavily tattooed. He made no reaction to her greeting Raia, but with the twi’lek turning to speak to him, Raynuk nodded in return to her bow.

“I wouldn’t recommend the sand… Sure it seems soft, but spend more than a few hours lying on it you’ll wake up to find a tomb built around you and everyone thinking you’re dead.” He replied, oddly light-hearted for a Sith Master.

 

He turned back to Sheog again, “Where is our illustrious Dark Lord anyway?"

[Exodus]

The pelt of a beast sat upon his shoulders drenched with the soft varnish of oxblood. The barbaric hide stretched to his waist and was brazenly primitive in appearance, falling like drapes over his powerful physique, exemplifying himself as a God of the Sith with the mercy of his kill strewn across his naked skin. The ancestral trims across his arms were now void of their former warmth, but the black of their illustrious stencil matched the dark brood of his mind. A power that was unparalleled and still left no trace, was far more eerie than one that whored itself to the masses.

 

• “I am here, Quietus.”

 

Even as a whisper, his voice carried such a depth, one could swear that the pronunciation of his words were cleverly threaded with the power of the dark side. The Allfather sat proximate to the small crowd with his back leaned against the chair ungraciously, undiscovered until his voice appeared from the very midst of them. He listened to the pleasantries between them all and played witness to their mannerisms as well as the presence of their collective demeanor. “Cute,” A sarcasm he spit from his mind, heavily disinterested in how coy each of them were. “Unless you wish to take the old Hutt to bed Twi’lek, where you sleep is of no concern to anyone.” He hadn’t the need to call her by what she was in a while, and the sound of it here would bite his apprentice hard, despite the nonchalance he spoke with. “..Since you asked so politely on the where however, I will give you the when. It may be days, it may be weeks, and it may be much longer than that.. But you will not sleep for even a minute until I command it. Understand?” The question was rhetorical, and she would be better off if she understood that. Exodus dismissed the thought, cut his eye to the Jedi in the room, and stood to his full height before his green gaze fell over Raynuk once more. The brothers and sisters of the Sith now swarmed to him, alive and in abundance. The power scales of the galaxy continued to tip, and even the Jedi felt the urgency to shelter beneath the freedom of true face of the Force.

 

AVATAR Kain. Sheog The Mad. Nightshade. Vladimir Faust. Dahar, Grandmaster of the Jedi. All of them bowed and brought gifts for the Dark Lord. And now Raynuk Montar, a beast that Exodus once knew as a Warrior King. Had he changed? Had his company diluted the intensity the man once carried? And what was it that brought him here now, before the surviving phenom of the original unholy Trinity.

 

 

• "..There were others before you that have come paying their respects and bearing gifts. What brings you and your followers before me now, brother."

[Lusef Aryan]

Alliance pilots Cecil and Bartz didn't question their orders, acting more as overseers as their ships went from point A to point B on the circuit of planets and hyperspace routes that marked the limits of the territory of the Galactic Alliance. They didn't question their latest order either when they came in, just letting the ship's computers and droid brains went to work setting them unknowingly beyond the territory of the Alliance itself. A few of their more diligent peers checked their routes more carefully and aborted despite the orders coming from the Alliance's hacked systems.

 

Waking from a long nap by alarms alerting them to their new destination, they meandered into the cockpit of their cargo ship. It was heavily armored, carrying a bountiful haul for pirates and other kinds of trouble from thieves to gangsters to warlords, full of rare and precious medicines and miraculous bacta.

 

Despite Faust's strongly voiced irritation with the Dark Lord, his program sent this ship among others deep into Sith Space, coming out far too close to Korriban, setting off alarms all over the planet, very obviously emerging as an Alliance cargo craft. Whether this was a gift, mischief to make life more interesting and difficult for the Dark Lord or the Alliance, or something else entirely was up to Faust alone to know. He didn't bother sharing his plans with anyone, keeping his own counsel.

 

At that point, Cecil checked the coordinates closer, finally paying attention to his destination. A four letter word vehemently escaped his lips. Panicked, and Bartz tried their best to get the ship turned around and back into hyperspace, praying to the Force they weren't intercepted or worse before that happened, their fumbling hands slowing them down, the two actually colliding into each other at one point and collapsing into a mess of arms and legs. Despite the almost comedic appearance they knew they must have, there was nothing funny about this.

[Raynuk Montar]

Raynuk remained silent for a few ticks as Exodus revealed himself, deciding finally to walk forward and lean with both hands flat on the massive table before him. He locked eyes with the new Dark Lord, and spoke evenly to the Dark Lord, as one would speak to a colleague as opposed to a superior; for though Exodus may be the Dark Lord, they were both Sith Masters. Exodus would be treated with the respect the title afforded him of course, but for the moment at least, Raynuk was not one to grovel before the man simply because of the mantle he wore.

 

"Odd. I thought you knew why I was here... Our gluttonous friend over there lead me to believe that my presence was requested; that a new Trinity had been called, and that I was sought to be a part of it. But you will find that I bear no gifts, no trinkets or baubles to feign loyalty to you. I bring only my presence -- my mere renewed existence even -- here at this new temple of ours, as a sign that I see your claim to the title, and that I do not seek to relieve you of it. That for the moment, I am not your enemy or your rival. You may take that as you will."

 

He turned, momentarily looking at Raia and the tuk'atas before he looked back to Exodus first, then met Sheog's gaze as well.

 

"What I do bring however, is information. You have already learnt first hand that Faust has returned and seeks once again to puppet the galaxy to his whims. But since my rebirth, I have been chasing the very cult that resurrected me, and now seeks to succeed where Faust himself failed; the Cult of Morthos. Until previously... I trusted none outside my closed circle; Darth Alraune, Darth Arcanus, Darth Eris, and my apprentice here." He gestured slightly to Raia behind him, who he noticed had taken another step closer to him, deciding not to go into detail about her. "I thought it conceivable that the Cult was being orchestrated by another Sith such as you two, but the more I chased them, the more it became clear that whoever pulls the strings of the Cult, they are beyond the Sith. They have been stealing secrets, tomes, ancient knowledge, seemingly anything they can get their hands on that might somehow be connected to Faust's failure. The libraries on Serenno and Raxus Prime, as well as a Nightsister clan on Dathomir were all pillaged of information. I found references to similar operations targeting the Massassi, and even several Jedi sites. We even recovered one of Faust's own journals under the rubble on Coruscant."

 

He scanned the two Sith before him, seeing them as his only audience despite the presence of others. "I consider them a threat on par with Faust himself... who knows of the Cult and their pursuits of his experiments as well. I intend to pursue them and remove them from the galaxy... And I see the... wisdom of telling you all as well. They raised an army of undead against us on Dathomir, and just before my arrival here, it appears they may have captured Darth Eris as well, but I know not to what end. "

 

He paused again, and sighed slightly, showing a rare glimpse of concern. "But I am a Sith Master, a former Dark Lord like yourself... And the order must not be ignored in favor of personal vendettas. I will serve and preserve the Sith Order if you deem me of use to you, brother. I will leave that choice up to you."

[Keenava Dira]

Hanging on vague recollection, Raia was about to respond to her before Exodus made his grand reappearance. Instead, feeling Exodus’ aura precede his entrance, Raia nodded quietly and stepped closer to Quietus.

 

Then Quietus offered his vote of cooperation to the Dark Lord and a wealth of interesting information. But the Twi'lek didn't hear it. Instead, she stood eerily still.

 

• Her master’s words continued to echo in her mind...

 

Trembling intensity, begging a visceral response, antagonized the simplicity of what might have been an innocent reunion. But no. Sith don’t get peace. Sith don’t get simple. Sith don’t get innocent. Like a pail of dwang poured over her head, Exodus’ arrogant proclamation was a razor’s edge to the heart of her brain.

 

Kara roared with feral agony. But a guttural, primal scream that surpassed even Kara's ferocity, hushed the beast and silenced its fury.

 

Heat unrelenting began as a subtle note from her side of the dining hall. A bare wisp of hot energy, almost unnoticeable, began to grow and spread throughout the entire Praxeum from where she stood. One degree at a time. Pounding drums of rebellious blood flowed through every inch of her body and rose as bulging veins on the surface of her cloth covered arms. Powerful vestiges of resistance fought against the swelling tide to prevent what seemed like an inevitable break. A veritable sea of fire welled behind the film of her crimson eyes. Embers of bright fiery rage eked out of the corners. But everything was tightly held beneath a veneer of civility. A steady rock of form, built through adversity and neglected insanity, stood atop intensity unimaginable. Even staring deep into her master’s mocking emerald gaze, she resisted the force of hatred that surged beneath.

 

Elitism she could tolerate. She’d known it all her life; echoes of Furion and other Sith that derided her would follow her forever; slavers that saw her as nothing but chattel to be traded were similarly bound to her for the rest of her miserable life. Disrespect she could understand, because he sneered at others beneath him, which was also Furion’s greatest failing; others before him committed worse atrocities to her. And yet, it would always rankle her. But shaming her achievements, treating her like something less than what she’d earned in front of so many was beyond belittling. Impudence begets impudence. Disrespect begets disrespect. The salty aura of his disgraceful words was enough to bleed her resolve. But she stood strong amidst the torrential wave of fury that affixed her seemingly indifferent body language. Her piercing gaze shot back at him, derision masquerading as esteem.

 

“It seems my master has stopped brooding. Come to join us ‘underlings’ on the surface?” Keenava said, scorn heavy in the lilt of her voice. Her body tilted ever so slightly and shifted from the other end of the dining hall to inches from Exodus’ visage. Her body was a head smaller than him, but her presence took up Korriban and the other planetary bodies that bordered it, and it hadn’t stopped growing. The power that fought to the surface threatened to rent her body asunder. But she didn’t care. She was sick of being treated like a child. She was sick of everyone treating her like she couldn’t do as she pleased.

 

FREEDOM… Heh. Don’t make me laugh. You’re in chains ‘til the day you die you rutting slave.

 

The Ethos of Sith philosophy meant little to those that practiced it. Entombed by their own ambition and power, they carried on like they knew what was best for others and moved without a will of their own.

 

“I Understand. Master” Keenava intoned. Her words were clipped and intense, but the volume of her voice didn't change. Keenava’s fire met Exodus’ dark presence as her own intensity encompassed the galactic core and kept moving. Her arms didn’t move. Her face didn’t move. Her body language mirrored obedience perfectly. But the intensity that rested beneath the surface of her face was the picture of resistance.

 

“In the meantime, since it seems I have some time open on my ‘busy’ schedule – what with all my lack of sleeping – I’m going to take Raia on a tour of the praxeum. If she’s okay with that. But regardless, I need some air.” Keenava said. Her gaze didn’t shift to the girl – Raia was uncertain enough already and nervous to those around her. But, Keenava’s words were heavy and hard; all the while refusing to raise her voice above a civil volume. To outside observers that could not touch the Force, the exchange was tense, if a little salty. But to those that were familiar with the force’s embrace, they would see the power of a galaxy, facing a man that fancied himself a god. “And I’m not taking no for an answer.”

 

Keenava didn’t let him resist. She didn’t give him a chance. She didn't even look at Raia as she left, not wanting to direct any of her caustic energy at the girl. Just as she shifted from one end of the room to the other, she shifted back. When she finished her movement, she offered a stiff bow and left the dining hall. Her presence hadn’t shifted however and would take some time to decrease from the immense shadow it cast across the whole of Korriban and the galaxy around it.

 

Coward...

 

The voice of Furion echoed through her ears. She felt the weight of his gaze and so many others weigh deeply on her shoulders.

 

Keenava could see the lesson as it hung in front of her, delivered in the bittersweet form of shame and derision. But she couldn't stand any more of it. It was ice to the fire of her soul.

NO.

 

Keenava turned, the fire blooming in her crimson eyes. A snap-hiss echoed in the hollow hall and Keenava turned to face her master. Her mouth didn't move. Her body didn't move. Her face, and stance said all she needed to say.

Edited June 23, 2017 by Guest

[Sheog the Mad]

The voracious mountain of flesh remained still, and but for the gentle wheezing of his blubbery breaths as they gurgled through his ever-working maw one might mistake him for an overlarge cake decorated by autistic Nemoidian third-graders. One of his servants, a Twi’lek with flesh the colour of rotting flesh, carried a platter of refreshments amongst those assembled. From her whithering skin, and from her ashen and dead eyes could be read the horrors of Sith corruption. To the apprentice Raia she offered several bars of protein, made from simple nuts and fruit, melded with honey; a taste of home out of place amongst the swirling sands. Her voice was hushed and was carried upon the spiced pipesmoke that hung to every breeze.

 

“You come from a world of grey, the mountains old... Your hidden fire is ashen-cold… You walk where all life falls to be devoured, hunger stalks those the Force has empowered…”

 

The Master of Gluttony mulled the taste of fire-aged leaf upon his tongue, the strings of his influence in the Force causing the tastes to turn from natural spice to the semi-dry sting of woldflower honey. The Dark Side was at work. He let the smoke roll from his thin lips, flowing like a curtain down his lumpy and quivering hide. He could see each as insignificant within the flow of The Force as a mynock caught from its roost within the powerful grasp of a solar tempest. The overlarge Hutt dragged the pitted end of his ornamental staff upon the flagstones, sending up a shower of sparks, each of a different colour. The Force had a hold upon his mind, and his voice held a power that began to show as though through a crack in a mirror.

 

<>

 

The Master of Avarice pulled upon the threads sewn into the Temple, causing a distant rumbling across the Valley of the Dark Lords. A heatstorm was gathering upon the mountains, bringing with it lightning and fear. The Hutt's nostrils flattened, as if to block out a horrendous odour.

 

<>

 

The Hutt's staff tapped once more upon the flagstones, sending more sparks into the darkness

 

<

 

A word followed the Sith apprentice, to the ears of Lallu came a voice unbidden, and grotesquely disappointed.

 

...Your anger and madness are unbecoming. They do well for a mask, but oh so little for a personality...

 

The Hutt’s eyes squinted as a crimson blade shone from the darkness of the hall, illuminating the darkened stone with an eerie light. A deep blubbering sigh came from his frothing lips, sending drips of soot-encrusted spittle in bubbling rivers down his flabby throat. A sudden spike avarice and hunger began to fold around him within the Force, like an arachnid spinning a web. The hall itself began to crackle with the pangs of starvation, and the desire for a feast in the Force. A low hum matched the Twi’lek’s, an orange blade emitting from the base of the staff within his flabby hand.

 

<>

 

The pipesmoke about him began to swirl, as if beckoned by an unfaltering wind, to envelope the girl and consume her in darkness. The Hutt reached towards the Dark Lord with an overlarge hand as if awaiting the call to strike. The Hutt's tail curled and his muscles began to wind themselves in serpentine fashion. Within his stomach the call for sustenance was echoed in the Force. From the smoke a chorus of voices began to whisper

 

...You are a fly within a hurricane… Such an unworthy harlot is undeserving of even the clothing of darkness…

[Keenava Dira]

Keenava stood, golden blade glimmering in the low light of the hallway, staring at her Master. A man that had shown more kindness to her than her own father; indecision fraught on the tip of her emotional blaze. The blade hilt she held in her hand, the very shackles she broke to get to where she was now, burned her skin for vengeance. But this was too much. This was unbecoming. This was not her place. Not now. Maybe this is what Furion groomed her for. Maybe this is what all Sith were groomed for. To one day be strong enough or possess the will to challenge the one that crafted you; to one day challenge the being that dared to stand over you even as he chiseled the final pieces from the marble of your form. Yet, hers was an insult that was incomparable to his. A daughter spat at her father amidst an assembly of his peers and mocked his offers of generosity. The armor on her back and weapons at her side felt even heavier than they had before.

 

She felt the tinge of Sheog’s message and presence emanate throughout the hall. The well meaning slug's words were harsh, but only added to the turmoil caused by her impulsivity. The galaxy of power she held within her frame snuffed his power out like a candle’s flame, adding his terrible hunger to the growth of its massive tide. Then, as her power neared its limit, the welling hurricane of youthful rebellion inside her released.

 

<< No. >> Keenava’s voice echoed back to Sheog in a calm reflection of his tone. She would not fight. She would not deepen the show of disrespect by adding to her display. It was a lesson. It was all a lesson. And like the naive fool she'd always been, she answered with anger. Her deeds were caught in the purgatory of political speculation. And instead of trying to comprehend the implications of her foolishness while an audience of her peers contemplated her arrogance, she abandoned questions; for the moment at least. Without audible recognition, the golden blade fizzled out and Keenava vanished into the Korriban wastes. Her rage and fury was too much. It was all too much. She needed time...

 

A whisper, almost subvocally through the force, slipped through the air to where Exodus stood.

...sorry...

 

It wouldn't make up for her foolish mistake, but maybe it would lessen the furious surge that was sure to answer her disrespecftul revolt.

 

Right now, amidst the swimming chaos that stirred within her, her team didn’t matter. Her friendships didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered was where she was; the sand brushing between her lekku, callously rubbing against the smooth obsidian of her face. She sat, quietly musing on a cliff about three miles from the praxeum, looking at the pile of her handiwork that rest at the bottom...

 

What am I? Why do I do this to myself?

 

One of the restful dead seemed to stir, but collapsed into the heap as carrion fed upon its bones.

[Raia Montar]

A nod of acknowledgment and the death of her hope of remaining relatively unnoticed during this trip was all Raia managed before an irrepressible chill ran through her when the Dark Lord revealed his presence among them. From the depths of her hood, she dared to peek out to see what she could of the latest to bear the title.

 

Swathed in the pelt of some unidentifiable beast, he couldn’t possibly have looked any more different than what she remembered of Furion’s mannerism, though there was no real difference in the presence. In fact, it felt a little too familiar to her. Her mouth went dry as she remembered in that primal part of her what Furion’s will and presence had felt like. It wasn’t the same, but the variation was so subtle that the only way she caught it was through her attempts to fight through her initial instincts and response.

 

You’re stronger than this. Raynuk promised he wouldn’t let anything happen to you, she reminded herself as the Dark Lord turned his attentions to the alien woman, she had yet to place. Then she had it.

 

Rose’s friend...La-something, she finally remembered amid the exchange between Raynuk and the Dark Lord, the pseudo-Furion echoes finally shaking the memories loose. The two of them had both been apprentices marked by their former master, and Raia found herself wondering if the other woman’s tattoos had grown as well as the teenage girl returned to her position behind Raynuk.

 

While Master Sheog had given his input on the matter of the cult, the Dark Lord wasn’t given a chance to reply. Before he could make his wishes known, the alien woman verbally lashed back at him then drew her lightsaber, the still-unfamiliar noise causing Raia to turn toward the sound in shock and horror for the woman.

 

Though Raia had little frame of reference for what was about to happen, Vex’aedr and Roe’gall did and each issued low warning growls that ran in concert with the strange language coming from the great Sith as he spoke. In the tense seconds that had followed, Vex bodily placed himself between Raia and the lightsaber bearing woman while his brother poised to snatch the girl back the instant the threat became action.

 

Then, just like that, the woman seemed to have decided what her actions against her master might cost her and dashed off into the night. Instinct and her limited experience warned her that the incident was likely far from ended. Pulling back her hood with gloved hands, she looked up uncertainly at Raynuk as another woman who appeared to be of the same species as the woman who’d just left, only her skin a much more sickly pallor, approached with a tray of what appeared to be food.

 

At Raynuk’s nod at her “is it safe” expression, the tuk’atas allowed her past and Raia took one of the bars with a silent nod of thanks to the servant. She could feel the hunger growing in her stomach again, so she nibbled at the food and watched the others as quietly as possible and did her best to pretend that nothing had happened.

[Dahar Raikanda]

It was becoming obvious to the Jedi Master that Sith-y things were happening that didn't have much to do with him. Sheog had presented him with a task, perhaps a way for him to prove himself to his new... friends. And he was going to have some fun with it. He retracted his blade and the young padawan let out a barely audible sigh of relief. He leaned in close to her ear and whispered, "Come with me, child, I will get you out of here." He said this with the most sincere Jedi-like tone he could muster. He still wore a holocron of light around his neck which aided in giving the illusion of good in him and masking the growing darkness. It singed his skin each time he dipped further away from the light, and he embraced the pain as a sign of positive change.

 

He addressed the Hutt in a tone implying that he was attempting to relieve the burden of his presence and leave the Sith to his Sith business. "Understood, Lord Sheog. If you would be so kind as to allow me access to some of your temple's armaments and science engineers, to whom I would insist report my workings back to you, I would be most gracious. You know how to reach me on comm if you need me."

 

The ever-darkening Jedi bowed to his host, also turning and bowing to the new arrivals whom he didn't know, but assumed that he should. It seemed to him that tradition and respect were important to these people and he had no reason to be of aggravation. He put his hand on the padawan's shoulder, using every bit of his energy to muster up some of the lightness left in him to comfort her. Soon she would think his actions had all been a charade and that he was here in secret to save her.

[The Sith Empire]

• Warchief Dzadûr was a beast of a creature that fascinated over the hunt. The thrill of the chase aroused his blackened heart to a plane of madness he could never recover from. His unwieldy mass rivaled that of even Sheog The Mad, and his brutish aggression had no place in the cockpit of some metal chariot. Yet and still, his heavy and bestial breath pumped through the hollow commline from a station below, allowing the haunting of his presence to motivate the swiftness of the patrol formations intercepting the trespassing vessel. The precious cargo freight vanished impatiently as units of starfighters equipped with lethal force surrounded the two rather imprudent pilots and chaperoned them out of sight. What would become of the inestimable stock was an unpublished truth between the higher ranking posts within the auspicious Sith Empire. Make no mistake, anything caught in the web that Exodus spun would be torn asunder and picked threadbare for all the little seeds that would allow his people to flourish once more.

[Exodus]

• Silence has a sound.

 

Montar spoke with a clever film of words that conveyed the impression that he was of course amicable towards the Dark Lord, but also showed that he would not sacrifice an ounce of his pride for even a second upfront. For what reason? He knew not. He was subtle in how he expressed this, but a clever mind would pick it to pieces, and the manipulator of minds could read between the lines. Exodus remained still, dispassionately so, and with an indomitable and deep stare into the soul of the Sith Master. The Arachnid wondered what he would find if he sank his teeth through the roots of his brother’s mind, deep beneath the mask that Raynuk wore, and spilled the truth of everything here and now. Tempting, but redundant when the information was offered on a silver platter. "..I—" Before the words could escape Exodus' mouth, he felt the encumbrance of his apprentice escalate tenfold. He raised an eyebrow at the Twi'lek in the short distance, looking her over through and through. Her world and her mind splintered as it did before when he had found her in a pile of her own filth, slumped over from a fatal fall months before. Silence has a sound, and the noise was a vibration that he could hear against the belly of his eardrums. A small and knowing smile crawled onto his face just before she allowed her pride to unravel her whole.

 

 

• Deep breath before the plunge

 

And then she dove. She held her outward expression composed while her mind erupted with craze, and as she paced to a safer distance, the crack of her weapon soon echoed for all to hear. He found it amusing how fickle emotions were between common sheep, how predictable the unconscious mind was when prodded with proper munition. An idea came to mind as she stood there unwittingly defiant for the masses to see. Exodus raised his left arm to pull the red-haired hide from his back, pausing as his eyes caught the symbolic markings that ran the length of his thick shoulder. The supernatural scars that were drawn into his skin seemed to have room to depict another illustration centered around a homicidal butchering, and this Twi’lek looked interested in occupying that vacancy. “So be it.” Her wail for attention, her mistrust in his teachings, and her reckless abandon for life would be punished mercilessly. There was no rousing of the Force, there was no unnecessary winds or dramatic displays of power inside of him, he simply watched her. His silence was an imitable roar that would rot her insides and make her sick to her stomach. His tranquil in the face of her threat was of a nature so disturbing, and her emotions clearly blinded her from the slaughter that would come. This was neither time, nor place to act as she did, but the Dark Lord had every intention to brutally reprimand any who held the name of Sith and behaved unjustly.

 

 

The hide unhatched from the unusual chain around his neck and he tossed it to the table beside him. The Hutt, who stood mere feet from where he was himself, riled noticeably with ravenousness unease. In this moment, and this moment alone, Exodus understood there was a loyalty inside of the creature, particularly in the way the maniac restrained his immediate and violent nature in lieu of permittance from the Dark Lord. Silver lining. Exodus took the deepest breath and held his fist beside his head to gesture a hold. The King of the Krath yawned his behemoth size and washed the floors in a thick and sickening glaze as his hindmost ligament came into plain sight, a terrifying spectacle for most.

 

 

"Allow me to remind these people, Brother Sheog." The extrasensory communication of his voice was only heard by the Hutt, and it's temper was as devious as ever as he clenched his fist, not bothering with a weapon at all.

 

 

And then, anti-climatically, his apprentice made a run for it. Exodus furrowed his brows and allowed the latent steam to expire through his nose. The muscles in his jawline twitched with anticipation, then settled. He closed his eyes with a dissatisfied sigh, and dismissed the scenario entirely, for now. Time was wasted, and she would pay the price before she knew it. "..She must love her sleep. Perhaps Furion awaits her there, in her dreams?" Exodus laughed at the thought and rubbed his chin curiously as he spoke out to no particular person. The calmness of his appearance never changed however, and before he returned his attention to the one that was here to pay his visit, he looked upwards to the ceiling. It was not detectable at first, but buried on the beams of the remarkably high ceiling of the hall, there was something that moved. Whatever it was that rested up there was covered in the shadows that accompanied them and released no tactile sense for those here to pick up on. Exodus nodded slightly and a scattering of red eyes flashed synchronously, then disappeared entirely.

 

 

"..Raynuk, we are from the era of the most brutal conquerors this galaxy has ever known. This Cult you speak of, the Sith in this room alone put them to shame, indisputably." Exodus turned to face the Warrior once more, noticing the glimpse of concern on his face. "Do not dismiss our place on the food chain so lightly, these characters are of no threat. We are the threat, brother." Exodus explained convincingly, allowing his hands to reach out and point to the powers that existed in this room alone. "..However. If the beast that is Darth Quietus still lives inside of you, then I will heed the information you have brought me, and you will have my strength when you have need for it." Exodus understood his brother from a time where giants roamed the galaxy and terrorized at will, these two were some of best. The smell of fear surrounded the warrior however, perhaps it was this Cult of Morthos that had him spooked or maybe it was the quiet company that he kept, which of course the Dark Lord kept careful note of. Faust had returned with a trick of his own, a test perhaps, and Exodus did not put it past Raynuk to return with one of his own as well.

 

 

• "The choice is made Warrior King, the Order before all things. You will serve, brother. I have foreseen an immortal future for our kind, and we shall exact the balance."

[Raia Montar]

Raia’s eyes widened as they were drawn to the arachnid-like markings on the Dark Lord’s shoulder. So that’s where the spiders from my dream came from, she realized, the truth of it echoed back in the darkness of the Force around her. It made sense that the spiders had consumed Furion and replaced him and why the shadowy figure had beckoned to Raynuk. Even in her nightmares, elements of her visions fed through the Force still had found her.

 

The calmness that the Dark Lord displayed regarding Lallu’s outburst (for Raia had finally remembered the name of the Twi’lek that had ingratiated herself to Furion’s side) chilled her more than it would have had there been some visible reaction from him aside from another snide comment about Lallu’s sleeping arrangements.

 

Thanks to her discussions with Nurse Smith on Corellia, the undertext of the comments weren’t lost on her. Her lip quivered upward in disgust at the implications and what little she’d remembered of the woman’s behavior toward Rose and her.

 

Raynuk had been right. Exodus was certainly not Furion. There was something to his calculating and methodical approach that deeply unsettled Raia, but in a strange way encouraged her at the same time.

 

She checked herself and returned to a neutral expression lest her sneer be seen as a slight toward someone of higher rank. Instead, she focused on Exodus’s words to her father and wondered if she would ever assume the role of the predator herself or if she would wind up serving the Sith in other ways.

 

It was hard not to think of Jaina’s words about a healer finding a place among the Sith and what might happen to her and Raynuk if she fell short of the Order's demands.

[Delta73]

The Marie exited hyperspace with all the grace of a drunken twilek dancer who had a broken clavicle, the engines flaring majestically, and the shields positioned double front, in semblence of the overlarge tummy a dancer may get from over snacking on corellian white cake. A hard ignition of the sublight drives as the ship hit the stratosphere broke the similarity of a ship to an overweight dancer like the legs of a bunk bed holding up a trifecta of hutt twins in their mid thirties.

 

On board the Corvette, the many cloned clone trooper Delta Seven Three, pulled himself from the cramped quarters of the Kaminoian Cloning Pod. A rebirth. A chance to live a life devoid of crime and terrorism. A boring life. A stupid and unfulfilling life more like. Delta dried off from the clone cylinder and changed into a fresh set of Mandalorian armour salvaged from the Kal-Koran estate and walked to the hangerbay as the ship set down. He opened a comm frequency to Sheog and requested that he could join him. Delta awaited the loving affection of his girlfriend and daughter and when they arrived at the ramp he gave each of them a brisk and loving hug.

 

"Hey you guys ready to hang out with a bunch of friendly Sith? I hear there are no sword fights this time!"

[Keenava Dira]

Keenava’s lekku lifted gently in the open crimson air. Contention woefully spread through the gentle articulation of each tail. Withering impulses beckoned to her waning mind and attempted to push her to her feet. Anger unheated was calling for fury unheeded. Shame ignored was calling for retribution unwanted. Consciousness wandered aimlessly in a sea of indecision and drifted with vague despair toward a feeling that the Twi’lek couldn’t readily grasp. Fingers out, clawing with futility at the drifting sand, Keenava couldn’t see what was right in front of her. Golden clarity sang out from the metal at her hip and pushed inward, impressing upon her mind.

 

Coward…

 

His word was so raw, so visceral, that it drew her blade before she could think. Before she could act rationally, her emotions sang for vengeance as they had before. His power, his faith, and his strength sang through her and carried her on the simple thread of strength that they provided. Like it had before, Furion’s words were the guiding force behind her. Her strength, her impulses, her emotions, her willful disobedience, and her passion were fed from the illusion that she had some life waiting for her; that Furion would appear to take her away from her fate and they’d live happily somewhere ‘til the end of their days. But, as the fairytale bloomed to life once more, the cruel fist of reality came crashing down. What peaceful reality could a killer ever have? Could you ever have? What could he give you that would change anything? And… the coup de grâce… Where is he? If his feelings are so strong, why isn’t he here beside you? Why did he leave, when he told you not to?

 

 

 

Empty promises

 

Feeble oaths

 

Where was he on Ryloth?

Where was he on Nar Shaddaa?

 

Where was he on Talus?

 

Where was he on Umbara?

 

And where was he now?

 

 

 

Every question barreled into her with the weight of a durasteel battering ram. Every pound of force drew a heavy strangled breath from her chest. Her flesh trembled with conflicting emotion and a ballad of hot tears played havoc across her pristine ebony face.

 

Crystal stars fell from the velvet sky. And the red moons, with craters of pitch black, looked down upon her. Regal was their bearing. Disapproval was their intent.

 

She convulsed, short hot breaths taking control of her respiratory system, not knowing what to do and questioning every decision she’d ever made. Panic, fear, revulsion, derision, passion, and misery surged through her until the turmoil of it all caused her to wretch off the edge of the cliff, covering the corpses below in a blanket of fresh bile.

why…

Acid covered her throat and bit back at her fragile attempts to call to the wastes. Frustration was her rebuttal. Her unheeded emotional cries rose to combat the frailty of her plight and Keenava’s eyes sparked plumes of crimson flame once more.

 

With a single cry, aimed away from the Praxeum, Keenava’s passions flared. Her eyes bled cathartic release and her throat exploded with the force of a tornado.

WHHHHHYYYYYYYY!!!!!!!??

 

Soundwaves pulsed violently through the canyons, triggering many landslides and echoing for miles. But, after a few agonizing moments, nothing happened. Silence reigned. No justice came. No heroes appeared. No salvation answered her silly cry. And no absolution rebounded on her expressive fragility. Her evocative display stood the penultimate example of a fruitless exhibition. And, just like that, Keenava understood. Her plea, although emphatically made, was coarse and unrefined. There was no direction. It was chaos that answered feeble triggers and stigmas. There was no art. There was no grace. With Furion, chaos ruled. He was mercurial, unpredictable, and unreliable. He was inauthentic and there was no assurance that his words were real. She couldn’t be sure. And surety was key. The less sure she was, the less concrete her ideas were, and the more she led others to see how indecisive she might be. She revealed her hand and gave everything away.

 

It was the antithesis to the craft she’d been building all these years. And it was against the path she was walking with Exodus. She realized how instrumental he’d been in raising her. But, the caustic unknown of her relationship with him was not helping her. The more she relied on it and the more she put stock in it, the more she found herself drowning in a sea of uncertainty.

 

With careful fingers, Keenava rested her lightsaber at her feet. Her mind centered on the hilt and disassembled it piece by piece until the gold crystal inside of it was revealed. With a small trembling motion, Keenava removed the crystal and stared deep into the facets of the gem. Moments of Furion’s care for her gleamed through the porous structure. Each facet glistened with euphoria as memories of their association passed in the empty space that held it. History held it aloft and kept it spinning in place. Yet, as time boiled on, the bright gold began to sour. The brown that sliced through the center of the gem like a poisoned vein or artery, held uncertainty and pain, revealing the lie hidden underneath.

 

No more…

 

The lie, one of many, broke through the crystal and splintered its structural integrity. Heartrending deceit stabbed through the core of the rock and sang dissonant chords of sorrow. One deception begged another and another, cracking pieces off of the gem's corroding surface. And, before the crystal could break completely, Keenava thrust the pieces into the yawning belly of the chasm to land amidst the betrayers. Silent tears signified the only emotion that remained to honor him; a eulogy that seemed fitting for what had been the longest and most emotional relationship of her life. No words were spared, for he spared no words for her.

 

When her tears were dry and the emotion had passed, Keenava moved her hand over the hilt of her saber, using the kyber crystal she’d found years ago to reassemble and seal the metal cylinder.

 

It flew to her hand with ease and felt wholly different. Absent… yet whole.

 

With a snap-hiss, the blade came to life; as red as her eyes and as fiery as her spirit.

 

Goodbye... Furion...

Edited August 14, 2017 by Guest

[Qaela]

Qaela stood anxiously waiting for Ca'Aran to emerge from the cloning vault. She knew, intrinsically, that he had to have been cloned before after she killed him in a Force rage back on Dathomir, but she had never personally witnessed a reversion like this and wasn't entirely trusting that it worked. When his consciousness successfully merged into the clone and he woke up, she felt a tremendous sigh of relief. Telperiën was doing far better than before, but was still not what Qaela believed to be herself. Still, the girl had been raised as a Nightsister and was far from weak. She would recover, in time, though Qaela was leery about bringing the girl here to Korriban among all the Sith that were not known for being friendly toward her. Perhaps, with Sheog the Hutt here as a potential ally, they would not be molested.

 

She hugged Ca'Aran and humored him with an exaggerated eye roll when he joked. "I would like to find some friendly Sith, we could use all the allies we can get. What are you plans here?" She didn't want to doubt Ca'Aran, but coming to Korriban was dangerous.

[Raynuk Montar]

Raynuk had turned to the gluttonous pile of rancid fat known as Sheog, intending to respond to the bloated worm’s accusation, but then the entire room turned to the distracting temper tantrum of the twi’lek. Raynuk had stood to his full height again, remaining silent except for the slight snarl that managed to sneak out of his throat through his nose as he exhaled heavily. The child was not of his concern, and Raynuk figured it might serve him to get a better feel for the room, and those within.

 

But nearly as quickly as the spoiled brat had cried for attention, she seemed to shrink as she was bathed in the attention of the gluttonous one and the Dark Lord, each of them filling the room with venom and ill intent towards Lallu, before she finally turned and fled the scene, leaving Raynuk with only enough ‘give-a-damn’ to raise an eyebrow before Exodus spoke again, this time towards him.

 

He initially bristled when Exodus used his first name, his real name in this collected company of Sith, but found that staying his tongue and his outburst grew easier as the Dark Lord continued to speak about the legacy that the two of them were a part of. The Dark Lord, as Raynuk remembered him from those days, was not a fool, and was also not one to suffer fools. he believed in earning the respect one commanded, and only then could that respect be molded into trust. And it had been a very long time since those 'glory days' of old, and viewing this situation from the outside, the "Warrior King" could see that he was a currently unknown entity to the Dark Lord. The respect was still present, and now Raynuk, or Quietus, would have to prove through his actions and words that the respect was worthy of the trust.

 

Exodus was confident in his view of the future and the path ahead; he could afford to be nothing less as the Dark Lord of the Sith. But confidence had been the downfall of many Sith before him, and Raynuk worried that Exodus was going to fall prey to the same flaw when it came to the Cult of Morthos. None of them here; not Exodus, or Sheog, or Dahar, or Lallu, had seen and experienced what the cult could do and had done. Only Raia and himself could claim that. But Exodus’ statement about Darth Quietus still living inside him, proved to be a larger point of contention than he thought.

 

For a moment, Raynuk merely eyed the Dark Lord, who then spoke again. "The choice is made Warrior King, the Order before all things. You will serve, brother. I have foreseen an immortal future for our kind, and we shall exact the balance."

 

That, would serve him just fine. “I will forever be Darth Quietus to those that stand in our way brother, no matter what the cost is, and I shall give you no reason to question that fact. The Cult of Morthos is a plague, and like all good plagues, it needs to be cut out and discarded… violently. And while your offer of assistance is appreciated and noted, that was not my intent in telling you; I merely wished you to be aware of the rodent in case it attempts to steal from us again.”

Now he turned back to Sheog, who’s comment had not gone forgotten, calling out to the Hutt with a bit of a smile that would take some of the edge off of his words. “And don’t think I didn’t hear you a moment ago you overgrown butterball blob… Reek of love do I? Are you sure you’re not finally becoming aware of your own stench? We could torture Jedi and have them break within fifteen minutes if we simply locked them in a room full of your body odor!”

He allowed himself a small amount of amusement as he paused, before he turned slightly serious and continued. “But no, I do not think they can be… twisted to be a weapon for us, at least not entirely. From what I know, they have plans for me specifically that would not mesh well with the perseverance of the Sith. As for my ‘reeking of love’... Perhaps you are right dear friend. I do hold affection somewhere beneath this blackened chestpiece.”

He stepped back from the table and turned, effectively moving so that Raia could not hide in his shadow for the moment, and extended his hand towards her as a means of introduction.

 

 

“You have no doubt noticed that I entered this chamber with an extra shadow; this is Raia… For the moment, she is my apprentice, and as the fates have determined, I have also decided to adopt her as my daughter and watch over her as such a connection demands.”

 

He turned back to look the Hutt square in the eyes for a moment, solidifying how crystal clear he wanted to be. But his gaze shifted to the Dark Lord for a brief moment as well before he looked back at Raia.

 

“That is the love you potentially smell Sheog. I do hope you’ll refrain from testing it, lest I remind you of why I've earned your respect as a brother.”

[Sheog the Mad]

The overlarge Hutt sighed, letting his hunger devour itself as he settled back into his own madness, becoming once more a massive mountain of greasy flesh, held by avarice and gluttony. His staff darkened, the blade extinguished, becoming once more the grimy slithering-stick of an insane Hutt. He spoke to his guest, as the former Grandmaster, Dahar dismissed himself.

 

<>

 

The hulking Master of the Krath sipped upon his pipe, letting another wisp of smoke to fill his maw. The tobbaco smoke had lost its spiced taste, and had become overheated ash. The Hutt let out a blubbering sigh and tapped out the burning embers onto the ornate ewok-pelt rug that was laid about him. Two protocol droids scrambled to put out the flames before they consumed the overpriced furniture. He sent out a comlink message to Delta, beckoning him to the feasting hall.

 

<>

 

The Hutt chuckled merrily at Quietus’s chidings, the laughter billowing across his folds like a series of stones tossed into a placidly fleshy lake. He passed his staff over the surroundings, and several more torches ignited, letting in more light for the smoky feasting-hall.

 

<

 

The Hutt nodded kindly, but his voice held a stern warning. He could feel an unfamiliar aura about the girl, as if the Force was swirling in a submerged storm. Eddies and ripples were hidden beneath her surface

 

<>

 

The Krath Lord summoned up the image of an infantile Ewok being tossed from the trees by a stormtrooper, to be dashed upon the sharp rocks below. A burning village, the squeals of the dying.

 

<>

[Exodus]

Exodus paid no heed to the leisure of words traded back and forth between the Sith brood, but was attentive to the child that Lord Quietus had inherited. Exodus looked over the beautiful impressions that scarred his left arm, and then shifted his curious stare towards the one that Keenava had called Raia. The Dark Lord dismissed an idea that crawled to him as he watched her, and moved to collect his pelt instead. He did not have the time, nor the patience to meddle in affairs that did not demand his concern. The reunification of the Order was just the first step, and a powerful measure had drawn to his call. He could tell that the ambitions of each individual that he had met with was so diverse and multifaceted, that he would need to sharpen a blade for the Order and point them to a common front. For now, this would do. The purpose of this visit had been fulfilled, and his next move itched inside of his mind. With the skin of the beast pulled onto his back once more, Exodus hedged his presence as the two exchanged words. “Lord Sheog, Lord Quietus. I must withdraw for now. Keep me informed.” The Dark Lord eyed both creatures of darkness as well as the little one at the Warrior's side, then inclined his head with respect.

 

 

• Exodus tread past the span of the table, disappearing into the Halls, leaving the assembly to carry on among themselves.

[Raia Montar]

Raia's cheek flushed slightly, but she did not flinch as Raynuk stepped aside to allow the others an unobstructed view as he introduced her to them as his daughter. He really does want me then, she realized. It heartened her a little that it wasn't something that he could have hidden from the other Sith. The great slug's laughter and words quickly chased away the warm feelings that had come with the revelation of hearing about her father's genuine love for her.

 

Once more she could feel not just his eyes on her, but those of the Dark Lord as well. The same sickly feeling of violation crept of over her once more as Sheog probed her through the Force, much as Furion had done when she'd first taken her place at his side. Again she allowed him his look before pushing him away again as he spoke.

 

She glanced down at her tablet as his assessment of her scrawled across the screen before her mind's eye shifted to an unknown village high in the trees of some equally unfamiliar world. The memory of the acrid smoke and screams of the dying wrought from her own village intermingled along with the rest of the image of an armored figure throwing what appeared to be a living child's toy away dismissively. The blood and broken bones told her it wasn't a toy, but an actual being that had been discarded like so much garbage.

 

As the Dark Lord rose and excused himself, Raia hoped that no one noticed the pair of tears that had managed to escape as she hastily wiped them away.

"Forgive me, Master Sheog," she began carefully, as something overtook what she thought to be her better judgment. Somewhat shocked, she knew there was no turning back now, so she continued. "But I am not weak. It is not Master Raynuk's fault that I am untrained in your ways. Things have just been happening so fast. And," she took a deep breath not wholly sure of her decision or position to make such a demand but went for it anyway," please...stay out of my head. I am still learning Basic and the Sith lauguage and I learn nothing when words come to me in my birth-tongue."

[Delta73]

He smiled at Qaela as he put his black and red helmet on. “We are here to find due support and offer the assets of the Black Sun to the Sith. As it is currently, our command structure is falling apart all over the galaxy, the Sith have asked to take the Black Sun under their wing, and with our past with them, I see it as a good idea. I do not, however plan to let Telperion be mentored by any of these Sith.” He didn’t mean it as an insult to her, he knew it would be a fight if he sent her to the Jedi, but whatever Qaela thought was best he did not care for. He would not have his adopted child turn out like Qaela or any of the Sith here on Korriban.

 

The three of them walked in unison into the great feasting hall and Delta gave his name to the courtier who duly announced it when there was a break in the conversation.

 

“My Lords and Ladies, may I have the pleasure of introducing Delta Seven Three of the Black Sun, Qaela of the Darksong, and her daughter Telperion of the house of Ar-Pharazon, long may he live.”

 

What a weird way of introducing people. Delta rolled his eyes under his T-visor and bowed to the hall of Sith, all whom he recognized. Including the darling little Raia. She was looking good. He grinned and then he bowed to her as well. He probably still had bits of her mother's scalp embedded in his armoured gloves.“My Lords and lady, I have been summoned, how may I be of assistance in your Sithly ways?”

 

He reached out and grabbed an oversized goblet of Muja-twi wine.

[Keenava Dira]

Unfettered rage continued to linger in the canyon. Echoes of her tantrum bounced between the rock formations with little regard, mocking the lack of intention behind her gesture; mocking her lack of control and giving her more reason to scorn her own ineptitude. Rules unknown and foolishness unbidden hung against her guilty frame where she sat, waiting whatever fate befell her stupidity. A tumor of looming threat started to build just above her shoulder and she couldn’t help but feel pressure building with each passing moment. It was like the waiting strike of an executioner’s ax. Free falling and fast, the ax swung hard toward its target as the victim waited to feel the blade of judgment against the thin flesh of their throat.

 

The Twi’lek extinguished her red blade and sighed deeply, sitting on her knees, looking intently at the red cliffs that cut a lethal visage from an otherwise monochromatic countryside. This scenic diversion was picked due to its apropos juxtaposition to her current predicament. Below, deep in the cliffside, corpses of the unfaithful lay unburied. The very unfaithful that Keenava had killed a few hours before at Exodus’ command. It was… fitting.

 

Silence…

 

The whole of Keenava’s uncertainty assumed the breadth of the canyon. Deep breaths helped to assuage what little hope she had for her future and deep emptying thoughts helped to keep her chaotic musings at bay.

 

Listen!

 

A tingle flicked the edge of Keenava’s spine – a warning – but she brushed it away. It was a tiny little thing and Keenava’s mind was drifting, focused on titans of drama that loomed around her. Small scitters and scuffles of rubble and dust filled the gap of audible noise, but the booming of her passionate heart kept her ear nubs occupied. When a rock fell nearby, however, cracking against the side of her perch, Keenava tilted her head to try and decipher the source, but could not glean where the rock fell from. Her lekku anxiously stirred from their resting place. More rocks fell. Keenava’s concern deepened. The tingle came again. Listen! And although she answered the warning this time, she could not see the last rock fall. Nervously, she took a small step and tried to stand. But trepidation swallowed her precaution, the rock that supported her position on the cliffside slipped from its position, and the Twi’lek came tumbling with it.

 

Very little thought processed in the time it took her to fall. A terrified scream was pressed from her mind and any sounds that the Twi’lek exuded as she fell, were lost in the fall and covered in the caterwauls of descending rubble. With a meaty unpleasant thud, she collided with the corpses of betrayers she’d laid low. And together, all of them fell deeper into the pile and collectively smashed into a cold sandstone floor. It was rough. Heavy and light aliens alike sandwiched against her and pushed more weight onto her frame, but she did not slip into unconsciousness. Tingles of sensation filtered through her body, but her thoughts were clear and her sight was unaffected; as far as she could tell. There was a large alien rear perched atop her face and blocking her windpipe. The bodies had succumbed to rigor mortis - which compromised their flexibility - and ejected their bowels into the deeper recesses of the pile. The smell was enough to confirm every suspicion she had about her current predicament. And, through it all, Keenava swore she could feel her shoulders wail in futile resistance.

 

A few moments of agonizing silence followed, with struggle coloring the Twi’lek’s face and limbs as she tried to dislodge herself. Wind and chunks of phlegm pushed out of her mouth with each wave of exertion made against her meaty prison. The smell of her friends almost intensified her expectoration, but she stifled the urges that beckoned to her from the folds of their gaseous flesh. Dust, sand, and force-only-knew what else surrounded her, picking at her eyes and congesting her throat. Other than that, darkness consumed the area beyond. Vague details could be made out of the portion of light that peaked through the hole she fell through. But, without a closer look, the Twi’lek could only see mysterious shapes. She could barely see two feet in front of her face.

 

Keenava grunted, hefting a sizeable alien from her chest and dumping him to the floor with a soft plup sound. Then, taking a large breath of clean but musty air, she extricated herself from the pile of deceased and took a careful step forward before assessing her damage. Blood and other mysterious substances stained her tunic and dust covered her entire body. It looked disgusting and felt even worse. But the Sith Lord had very little time for vanity. She attempted to pat herself down but only succeeded in spurring a fit of coughs and a sensation of disgust as she felt the goop that hung on her suit of armor. Her brief inspection also revealed many scrapes and bruises, as well as a contusion on the right side of her head. But, when all was said and done, it took her only a few more moments to gather her bearings. It wasn’t hard. There wasn’t much around.

 

The Twi’lek tried to find something that looked familiar; tried to find some hook to draw her attention. But the darkness was too much. She would have to carry on and hope for an exit deeper in. Her entrance was thirty feet up and would be a difficult climb. So, somewhat resigned to her current fate, Keenava stuck her arms out in both directions, trying to gauge the spacious cavern before her. The dark welcomed her, but the structure itself felt oppressive as if there were an aggressive nature to the stone itself; obstinate and stubborn.

 

Columns shifted, tiles broke beneath her feet a time or two and it was clear that, whatever this structure was, it was not made to lie beneath the sands. Yet, it stood the test of time. More columns, beyond the ones that crumpled, kept pushing upward even when years marred its surface. Walls that had no place standing after more than a century beneath the sands, were holding strong. Keenava moved further to examine each piece with what light she had and found illustrations of ancient battles carved into the stone. And a life, almost like a heartbeat, was radiating from their design.

 

A strange warmth followed that sensation and glowed from further in, radiating outward from the belly of the structure. Initially, following her fall and the trap she’d sprung on herself, the Twi'lek was skeptical, but she believed that her powers of perception were adequate to pick out any more traps before they hit. And, the warmth felt almost… familiar.

 

The glaring silence was oppressive. There were idle sounds as cave-life stirred to Keenava’s interference, but the absence of anything substantial was haunting. Each step crashed, each heartbeat thundered and each breath clapped against her ear nubs. Suspicion was her only company. That, and curiosity.

 

_________________________

• 
  The presence hung about the tomb like a dingy cavern bat. It stalked the Twi'lek from the shadows and watched her with predatory eyes.

 

Plotting, scheming, and lying amidst the shadows it slunk behind, waiting for an opportunity.

 

_________________________

 

There was a change in the air; subtle and earthy. Lallu's lekku quivered as if to alert her wandering mind. But the shift was subtle enough that it didn't stick.

 

Apprentice, you're late.

 

The world went cold. His words moved in slow careful motion as Lallu tried to decipher her newfound reality.

[Qaela]

Landing on the Sith planet was a rather intriguing thing. As one who embraced the Darkness, she could feel the very planet humming with its power and comforting coolness. She could appreciate how much time and effort went into making a planet like this and respected the heritage of the Sith who did it. Despite that wondrous feeling, she couldn't help but also be ill at ease considering how many Sith tried to kill her or harmed her. She knew better than to ever let her guard down here, not when so much corrupted Darkness swirled about and so many Sith were present.

 

She could feel them, too: a much more focused concentration of malice and barely controlled passions (mostly of the homicidal kind) that grew stronger as their shuttle got closer to the temple or whatever they were heading to. She was along for the ride and hoped that Ca'Aran's reputation and influence would serve as a sufficient shield for her and her daughter. She wasn't here to start anything, but that didn't mean a single thing around some of these Sith. Of course, their hatred of them wasn't entirely unwarranted. She had antagonized them sufficiently at times to warrant a less than warm response, but not anything she thought deserved violence. But then, these were Sith and that came with the territory.

 

Just in case, she was wearing the Krath imbued armor that Sheog the Hutt had enhanced for Ca'Aran on Coruscant. Its dark power seemed even more potent as they neared the homeworld of the source of its power. She also carried a lightsaber, a nasty little disruptor pistol, and a few of the Force imbued metal knives that could take a direct lightsaber strike without a scratch. Add to that the two last ditch thermal detonators and she felt that she could at least weather a Sith attack long enough for her daughter and Ca'Aran to get to safety.

 

Once they landed, she followed Ca'Aran into the large hall where many Sith were gathered, some whom she even recognized. She even managed to keep her near horror contained to a simple wince at how Ca'Aran broadly had their names announced. He always was one for the dramatic. Keeping her hands free enough not to be threatening but close enough to her weapons just in case, she did little else. There was no point in intentionally antagonizing the Sith gathered here, especially not Raynuk, the one who tried to kill her in the past and who seemed in no good temper.