Space

[Darth Nyrys]

The Scarab was immense, a bigger, blacker expression of the Dark Lord’s power than even the spire on Onderon. As much a status symbol as a machine of war, the Scarab offered far more logistical support to the Sith aboard it than most capital ships. For the first time in what seemed like too long, Nyrys had access to a forge again. Forging arms and armor were in their own way snapshots of Nyrys’s life. Whatever she made reflected the trials she was facing at the time, a moment of conflict cast into permanence Sith steel and sorcery. She bid her apprentice observe her as she worked, for his own edification.

 

She was proficient enough with the Force to shape the metals through will alone, but she was fond of the traditional methods of hammer and anvil. The heat, exertion, and rhythm allowed her mind to wander to other places, to rummage through deeper ambitions and desires. The fleet was rallying in totality so she had time to work in depth on her new weapon. Gwn Marwolaeth was an excellent all around blade, but Nyrys wanted something more specialized towards thrusting in the advent of combat in tight spaces.The blade was forty inches long from guard to point at full extension, with a two handed grip and guard. A combination of technology and sorcery allowed the blade to secure or slide through the hilt and out the pommel, creating a blade that could shorten or even reverse direction at will. She called it a slipblade, and she was rather pleased with how it turned out.

 

The next stage of the work was new territory for Nyrys, a process of cursing the blade so heavily that it was essentially poisonous. The maleficence of the curses would cause necrosis upon a successful stabbing, filling the body with lethal toxins. The curses were tattooed onto captives, who were then flayed, and the flesh was wrapped around the blade and burned until it transubstantiated into maladictive runes. Nyrys wrote curses of vengeance for Kuat, and for her loved ones that had died there. The steel blackened and radiated an ethereal glow of sickly green.

 

“I will call you Brathiad Gwynt.”

 

She spent a great deal of time familiarizing herself with her new weapon and sparring with Drago, who was getting to be solidly average with the lightsaber. She still took a sample for cloning purposes anyway. Sorcerers were… vulnerable during their early periods of training.

 

With her new weapon she headed to the bridge of the Scarab to stand with the Dark Lord in his crusade.   

[Darth Nyrys]

The galaxy may have been holding its breath, but the well greased inner workings of the Sith Security Bureau continued to move with relentless efficiency. The department’s minister was already requesting a meeting with her before she had even arrived at the rendezvous location, and Darth Nyrys was inclined to honor that request in order to gain a better understanding of the situation at large.

 

“-And we are currently pushing a media blitz regarding Naboo being used as a vital part of the refinement of biological weapons cultivated on Felucia. While the conflicts leading up to Naboo were mostly big stick diplomacy skirmishes, this is the first time that the campaign has launched, for lack of a better term, a sacking, and that gives us room to shape the narrative.” explained the minister, currently mid briefing.

 

“One would think by now our history would make such actions unnecessary. Our nature has always been one of brutal honesty, when it came to diplomatic negotiation.” Nyrys said, almost wistfully.

 

“Those who remember history are nearly always drowned out by those that are consumed by their anchorless and immediate perspectives. Individuals may at times be unpredictable, but groups of people are drearily banal. Take the rebels for example, always promising a better galaxy but never managing to deliver one that can survive beyond at most a decade or two. I can see how it might have been inspiring and hopeful the first time, but at this point they’re just stacking bodies for a jingoistic scam. This is not the last rebellion that we will have to put down, as softer hearted fools will inevitably delude themselves into thinking that they are heroes that will really actually bring a better era to the galaxy.” The minister waxed philosophically.

 

“They have only the scars of the past and empty silences to account for those times. I’m not surprised that such abscesses fester and spoil into infection. Pain carries little context or wisdom, only the incessant call for action. When Darth Mavanger exhausts this new bloodlust or directs it elsewhere, we will rebuild amidst the ashes so that maybe the survivors might understand the why of our violence. Without the rebels, without disorder, there would be no need for such displays of barbarity. I want dossiers on worlds for after Naboo that would join willingly without a show of force so that we can show the galaxy that only the worlds that resist will suffer consequences.” She knew that it would be next to impossible to fully rein in the Sith now that blood was in the proverbial water, but the damage could be directed and limited with a careful hand.

[Darth Nyrys]

“Of course we have caf, I used to live on it and delivery food in uni. I’m ninety eight percent sure that our caf machines aren’t alchemically altered evil caf machines, but I can double check to be sure, Krath gonna Krath. Can we get some not evil caf for our guest?”

 

The Fair Lady of Iziz was making multiple jumps, both to prevent pursuit and to keep an eye on the galactic comm chatter. Governments that ruled by strength tended to collapse quickly when that strength was challenged and found wanting, so the implosion of the Sith Empire would be upon them rapidly. It was for the best, the supremacy of the Sith had become a numbing poison, slowing their hearts and miring their ambitions in complacency and entitlement. The Fair Lady would not be joining the other Sith at Ziost, those that had become dependent on the Empire’s succor would see her as a traitor, and killing every uppity motherpfasker on Ziost sounded tiresome. Not to mention the crew that served on the ship, who might be considered guilty by association, she had grown close to them through times of battle and the silent pauses in between. Even though she knew that they would lay down their lives for her, it was not something that she would ask of them idly, or dismiss as an expected outcome.

 

“My Lady, we’re getting liquidation orders for a number of sites, including Kamino. Should we maintain heading?” the comms officer queried. Nyrys sighed in frustration. Sometimes the Sith were like puppies, except instead of just chewing and pissing on everything, there was also constant self destructive behavior and painting everything black and red.

 

“No, tight beam them a message that I am coming and that they are to cease liquidation. And if they argue, tell them that it’s not an order, but a prophecy that I will fulfill with violent wrath if they go against my will.”

 

 Darth Nyrys turned to the Grandmaster, “My father, the Dark Lord Dagon, kept what notes that he didn’t trust putting on the Sith archives in a hidden lab on Kamino, including his notes on Nhagathul. The Dark City has been expanding rapidly beyond what we used to think its boundaries were, and is showing no sign of slowing down. Dad was tracking it but gave up any kind of combined effort after some sort of betrayal during the battle of the grand death star. I don’t know the details, for me he was just another dorky dad like anyone else’s parents, I didn’t even know that he was a Dark Lord until halfway through my own training. Did you ever meet him?”