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Mordecai didn't like long, grandiose speeches like the one the Sorcerer had made, and for good reason. The message that the Sith had wanted to preach could have been conveyed in much less words, in much less time, something that was surprisingly relevant as Krath Inmortos left the meeting without a word. That the other Sorcerer had done so had shocked Mordecai- Even he, with no love for Sith politics, had learned that if you did not pledge loyalty to the Dark Lord, you became an enemy. His dealings with the Spider has shown him that. He waited for Darth Oni to finish his words, not wanting to make a similar scene, before glancing at the Dark Lord. "Stay" he muttered quietly to his apprentice. "And if the opportunity arises, mingle. I have business to attend." He followed Inmortos' path. The train of dead souls and lizardmen of Aaris III were not so easily hid, nor did there seem to be any effort to hide his path. He was heading for the hangar. He opened his communicator, sending a message to his forces in orbit. Krath Inmortos is not to leave this system yet. He moved briskly- not a run, for the old Krath was hobbled it seemed by the use of his cane, but thanks to Oni's speech he had a head start. Mordecai caught up to his as his ship's engines blared to life. Above, the Sith capital ship Raven's Bane, Mordecai's personal flagship, hailed the craft with one simple message. No craft is authorized for takeoff. Disengage your engines. Mordecai crossed his arms, standing in the hanger in clear view of the Sith's cockpit. He didn't speak, as his words would not be heard from here, but he motioned for the Krath to join him outside of the craft. There would be words shared between them here, the veteran Sith hoped, before the Dark Lord saw fit to act on what had happened.

Oni, who sat in shadowed corner for more than he had liked, oversaw the oath of fealty pledged this day and watched in eagerness as many came. As always, they came, they bent the knee, and they left. It was a menial matter, but one of great outcome and consequence for the new era that approached, whether it be for the betterment or the worst for the Imperium. For Oni though, over the years, it had became an affliction. Dark Lords had came and gone, too numerous for him to count, since he had tasked himself a servant of the Empire he chose to protect, including two of his brethren. It made him pause and wonder her resolve briefly, but felt things were unavoidable in the Grand Scheme. Either she would reign Supreme, or would falter and fizzle. Still, he heard her words thoroughly. After the others had concluded, Oni stepped to the forefront from behind them, his decrepit form that laid beneath revealed in the rays of sunshine that draped the war-torn planet of Naboo as the dead echoed his call, the spirits entangled and feasted upon by his power. Like a Wraith, he glided into place, the frenzy of bound souls draping across his form lower the gift of Coronation as he took footing before the New Dark Lady of the Sith. It was the known Forlorn Talisman, a creation of emotions hung in suspension, eternally contained for amusement or candor. A Wraith's last moment forever lasting. With a bow, he presented it Lady Nyrys. "Mi'lady... Fellow Sith." He began, his voice groaning with the souls of the past like nails on chalkboards. "I have watched the Rise and Fall of many Dark Lords since the time of Lady Dominique and my birth as Lord of the Sith, a few I avoided intentionally. And in that time, none had succeeded, including Lord Exodus. I stand behind your decision and encourage it. If any oppose, I offer these words:" Oni let the room silence for listening attentions to be grabbed. "The Way of the Sith is mundane. It is unbounded freedom. Unbound Freedom to fight, to kill, to learn, to test ourselves above and beyond what we believe to be our limits. No chains, no shackles. Just our bodies, our wits, and our souls, untethered. Mundane, but definitive. And yet millenia upon millenia, we have been wiped into near extinction, mostly by our own devices or egos. That is the reason and need behind a leader. For without one, we are already doomed to die." "The Great Dark Lords have known and understood this. A heavy pill to swallow, but one that must be forced down each individual throat is our flaws and our fallibility. As great as we may be individually, others are far greater. Warriors test themselves in battle, but true Warriors know when to fall back and when to attack. Assassins test themselves with feats of improbability, but True Assassins know that the easiest feat is from the Shadows. And Sorcerers test themselves against the very fabric of reality, but a True Sorcerer understands the fabric first. I have drank from all three cups during my time as a Sith, and each has brought me a better understanding, especially in myself as a Sith and where my place stands. Something every Sith should do. You all would do best to heed my words." "This Rebellion is our own doing. We may have held leverage after Onderon, but we lost it all with Corellia, Mon Cal, and Felucia. We became the aggressors the moment we stopped the propaganda. And now, with each day, planets and troops join their cause, just as survivors of Naboo will. It's best that my brother's Empire dies in his departure and we return to storyholos that parents scare their children to sleep with, a figment of imagination.... For a time at least. For in the shadows, we can hone our Order and rebuild. We will cut away the weak in unity, and foster the strong in kinship. And when our Dark Lady feels it's time to test her Empire against the Galaxy and define her reign, our blades will illuminate the truths of it." Oni's gaze shift across the room. "As Sith, we are Free. But as citizens and members of her Imperial Rule, we are bound to her laws. Our duty is to the betterment of it. Hinder it, and you become a liability, and liabilities are lost causes. I repurpose lost causes rather well."

She could feel the ambition in the room, the hunger of the Sith around her. A consequence of the Spider’s unorthodox choice to hand her the title instead of having a successor claim it by force. It would have been easy to return that doubt with bitter venom and vitriol, but there was no need. Any worthy Sith would either challenge her or fall in line, otherwise it was all just bravado masking cowardice and envy. She did not recognize most of the assembled Sith here, many of the old masters had faded away, although even from all this distance she could sense the presence of her old master, Sheog. That eldritch horror operated on a different level, more Dark Side than individual at this point. Reports of Qaela vanishing at Lehon were coming in, but that did not surprise or sadden her, that woman’s ineptitude had already cost the Sith plenty. Perhaps she had been struck down by a final command of the Spider, or maybe she was faced by an opponent that wasn’t an apprentice or an asthmatic toddler. Akheron, on the other hand, was a veteran Sith warrior, an accomplished line officer who had returned to the fold after a period of absence. SSB had informed her that he had fallen in with some new cult, but as long as he performed his duties such things were of no concern to her, besides, an interest in cults and secret knowledge came naturally to the Sith. She herself had started a cult on Onderon. Akheron’s access to forces specializing in reaving would be of great use in the next phase of the war. Not to mention her plans would be of particular interest to him. Darth Mavanger was another veteran Sith, on the verge of achieving mastery over the Dark Side. He followed the warrior’s path, had led his forces on a largely successful campaign, and had defeated worthy adversaries in single combat. Of everyone assembled, he had the most viable claim to challenge, his accomplishments fresh in the minds of the assembled Sith, but she had read him as more interested in martial command than control of the order. The position of Dark Lord required much from the Sith that held the title, and would have inevitably taken him away from his beloved battlefields. Darth Oni was something of a mystery beyond his rank of master, his presence inconsistent throughout the years. He seemed to be following a similar path to Darth Sheog in becoming an avatar of the Dark Side over pursuing personal interests. The entity had reached out to her while she had been indisposed, but she would speak with him at the meeting to see what he offered the order. Darth Inmortos was a relatively fresh face, which was amusing given the state of decay that his body was in. He had played a part in the defense of Dac, was a known practitioner of necromancy, and had enough reputation that she had sent him to assist with the retrieval of plasma from the core. His story was just beginning, but it seemed to have potential. Telperien, another legacy like herself, had done well in keeping herself out of her mother’s shadow. Although she was trained in the occult truths of the Night Sisters, she had always been a presence in the Sith Order that Darksong had always tried to claim but ultimately failed to deliver on. Perhaps one day she would make the leap and join the order, so that she might surpass her mother in every way. Ca’aran was there of course, despite not being a Sith. His presence amidst this dark pantheon of divinities was telling of his worth and value to both her and the Order. He was an exemplar of mortal ways and means, an unrivaled soldier that had survived an endless procession of brutal wars. His counsel prevented the blunders of Sith getting tunnel vision and overly focusing on matters of the Force. Awenydd was there as well, though little was known of her and many of the reports were conflicting. She had served at Coruscant though and had since largely devoted herself to training, particularly an apprentice named Shiro. Akheron and Mordecai had both brought apprentices with them, and this made Darth Nyrys smile. Apprentices were the future of the order and only fools neglected them. The ones before her were an odd pair, one looked to be a tribal warrior descended from the nearly extinct bloodlines of the Sith race, the other… at first it seemed to be a construct of some sort, but after some scrutiny she realized that the machinery was just a shell for an alien mind inhabiting a crystal. How peculiar. Soon there would be plenty of chances for them to prove their worth to the order. The leader of their Mandalorian allies had been permitted to join the meeting as a sign of respect and trust. The rumor mill was suggesting that Tros Ardell had felled the Jedi that had brought low Darth Mavanger, and if true, that made him an exceptionally worthy ally. Darkwatch soldiers, whose loyalty she was certain of, approached and set up a localized jamming along with sonic and visual dampening fields. Rebel spies were always a concern, and her plans demanded discretion. “I know that this is a time of rumor and speculation, unknowns and theories. Allow me to lay them all to rest. Exodus is gone. If this is a play for some greater game, he left no indication amidst his advisors and generals. He did pass his saber on to me, but this is not the way of the Sith, so after I make my speech I will be opening the floor to challenges of single combat, should any of you doubt my ability and possess the courage to act on those convictions.” She had no interest in the theatrics that the Spider had often used amongst his own. It was the way of warriors to speak directly and bluntly, and with her brothers and sisters she would be true and clear. It was the capability of a ruler that was the true measure among an inner circle, not spectacle and illusion. Such things should be reserved for the enemy and the populace at large. “That being said, we live in interesting times. The cloak of benevolence and statecraft that Exodus shrouded us in for so long has burned along with Theed and the rest of the planet, and the people are once again vulnerable to the hopemongers and grifters of democracy. If we were to try and maintain direct control over the galaxy through the Spider’s corpse empire we would face thousands of unknown enemies, without the benefit of whatever schemes he was weaving. To charge ahead on this course is to invite disaster, to trudge through a mire when another, clearer path presents itself to us. We have glutted ourselves on the bountiful rewards that Exodus’s empire has given us, grown fat off of plenty and easy conquest over lesser beings. Now is the perfect time to hone our inner strength and cut away the accumulated fat. We will allow our enemies their republic so that we may expose it as a weak and corrupt institution, led by the self interest of politicians rather than ideals. We will bloat their creation until it festers with stagnation and blight, pumping poison through the veins of their government until the people beg us to return as liberators from the liars and the charlatans. We will exalt their politicians and quietly strike down any who show true leadership qualities. We will distract them from vigilance with pursuits of culture, benevolence, and charity. Meanwhile in the dark we will become as razors. We will scrape away weakness on the whetstones of training, focus, and discipline. We will perfect our crafts of death, war, and darkness. We will not only be worthy of the galactic throne, but have the means and abilities to seize it. A clean cut that severs the head of our enemies, rather than a thousand blind swings at potential threats. In order to facilitate the creation of a hidden Sith temple and to stabilize morale in response to this path, we have been securing the means and power to resurrect the lost world of Ziost. Once the capital of the Sith Empire, it was used in a ritual to contain the rebel fleet while our forces moved to disable the Grand Death Star’s super weapon. The rebels and their treacherous Jedi allies turned the weapon on Ziost, destroying five sixths of their own fleet in the process. While the sacrifice of Ziost was necessary, now its doom can be undone and our ancient capital restored. This is why I dispatched some of you to the hollow core of Naboo to retrieve plasma at the start of the invasion weeks ago, and why our forces are securing ancient Dark Side relics on Lehon. We are at the threshold of a new beginning for the Sith, and it will usher in a new golden age for our order as we decisively defeat our enemies.” She unsheathed her blade in a single, smooth motion, and surveyed the assembled Sith. “Now, as I said before, the floor is now open to challenges. If you think you have the strength to oust me and claim the throne, approach. Know this well, however, challenges will not be met with mercy or hesitation, regardless of rank and experience. This is our path to glory.”

Inmortos stood in silence, his cold gaze radiating out from beneath his cowl. He took in the spoken words and waves of feelings in the room. He had no desire to claim such a mortal throne, one that by admittance was weaker than the Spider himself had portrayed, held together by the assassin overlord’s strength of will. This vacuum saw the machinations of the Sith begin to crumble. He did not know this Nyrys, nor did she earn his fealty by right of inheritance. He did not either desire to challenge her or assume the mantle she bore. He had served his own ends within the Sith Imperial war machine, his goals being served by the eternal trudge of Imperial might. The carnal desires of these others were not his own. Power and territory, slaves and authority were of little value to his master plan. But to give up such a prize like the galaxy seemed a waste of such resources and might; one that Inmortos was surprised to see the likes of warlords give up without resistance. Still, they were not his battles or his losses and he cared little for them. He would do as he had always done, lurk in the shadows and construct his eternal memorial. When empires and rulers were forgotten, when bodies decayed and souls dissolved, the memory of Inmortos would remain etched amongst the eternal fonts of true dark side power, a black spot of never ending torment on the fabrics of reality itself. He would but adjust his ways accordingly and continue as he did allowing this new plan to follow it’s course. Inmortos stared at Nyrys for a minute more while the others spoke before turning his gaze upon Akheron and his mechanized apprentice. He hoped that they could feel the iciness of his vision, the sheer deathliness of his deadened emotional lack of response. He willed that the warrior and his pet, and the dog too, to know they had a place to welcome them should they so desire it. Even as their ideals differed, Inmortos had a use for these dark worshipers. And then, without a word, Inmortos turned. Shuffling he made his way from the room, the heavy tap tapping of his cane all that acknowledged his departure, his retinue of diminutive undead and worshipful necromancic lizards flowing silently behind him. He would return to his ship. This world had little left for him. The dead here could be harvested by the lesser necromancers, by those who craved the spirits and not material. If this was to be the beginning of the end of the Empire, he knew it best to fade now before others began. From there he would protect himself and his eternal plan. He would not be the Sith to die for the cause of others’ power. This Imperial fade would not be his doing. He would use it for his own end. Once aboard, Inmortos reclined himself within his chambers, reaching out to take control of one of his undead servants. Then, with scaled reptilian hands, he started his ship. Keying the comms, he related a message to his associate, Zylus. “Doctor, gather your wares. We depart immediately. The fall of the Empire is at hand.” The message was brief and to the point, but Inmortos knew even in his servant’s body, the maddened scientist would understand who it was and what would follow.