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Mordecai sighed as he stepped forward. He hadn't met this Awenydd, but she spoke wisely. It was time to quash this dissent- they had more pressing matters to attend, and a civil war amongst the Sith was far from the ideal. The Shard's challenge was quiet, not meant for his ears, but it was in a small, quiet room, filled with people who could attune their senses with the Force. Quiet words were words still spoken, and they would be addressed as such. "Mind your words, apprentice. It is one thing to question Darth Nyrys's strategy- She has invited criticism and allowed us to speak openly. I have done so myself in my war room. But to vocally suggest that she should not be worthy of her position is a challenge, one that will be met with violence. Your master knows better- He will not fight your battle. If you openly declare her illegitimate again, then I will strike you down myself... Assuming she does not first." Mordecai turned to the rest of the Sith. Their words were tiresome- they spoke of craving violence, of seeking death. He would show them what that truly looked like. "Your words ring hollow, each of you. You speak of unearned allegiances and and unworthy successor, yet not one of you has the merit to take her place. Not one of you dares challenge her yourself, for you fear her power. You speak of your gods and your past glories, but they mean nothing. The Sith have no gods- We bow to none but the Dark Lord. Our past glories mean nothing in a new era- Let our actions in the present shape who we are and how we are perceived, lest we grow stagnant once more. We are Sith- it is in our nature to battle for power amongst ourselves, with words when we can..." He let the sentence hang as he drew his blades, stepping forward towards the crowd. "... and with blades when we can't." He eyed them all. "I am Darth Mavanger. Any who question my lust for death, for vengeance, for power, need only to look out a window at the city around us. Any who question my battle prowess or my tactics can look at the swathe I've cut through the Outer Rim. I do not claim the throne, and I do not see any peers more worthy of the claim than Darth Nyrys amongst our number here. The Shard speaks of unworthiness, but then labels himself a slave, as though it is something to be proud of. He would turn us all to slaves of this... fanged god. I would rather lose every vestige of power and control over the galaxy before bending the knee to such a thing. The only real god is power- The only requirement is strength. The only ones above us, the ones who have more. How you use that power, that is what defines us. Do we waste the vestiges of this empire fighting a battle that will never be won in our state, or do we withdraw to strengthen ourselves, prepare ourselves for war, while the rebels desperately try to install any number of failing governments and civil laws? You have the freedom to choose, but the wrong choice will have fatal consequences. If you cannot stand amongst the Sith, then you will kneel before us as we climb over your corpses to victory, as we have for a thousand years."

Solus listened to the Empress plans about the destruction. At least these plans made a bit more sense. But still… “I give you leave to speak freely of your thoughts without threat of repercussions or consequence. It's not quite what one imagines I gather." Solus focused his senses on his master and spoke, albeit quietly, to not attract further attention from the Empress, though someone close enough could possibly overhear his words. “Surely master, you can see the errors in these schemes. While my time in this world of worlds has been limited, even I can see errors in the logic. We make plans of fattening and bloating our enemies after we eliminate their leaders? I have existed for an eternity before I was found, but I still remember those who betrayed me. Why would those who we have wounded forget us? Do we let those Gungans who we have beaten down live? Or do we, as those who make sacrifices to the Fanged God, kill them swiftly and be done with it?" Solus remained still, but inwardly he was shaking his head. He continued to speak softly so only his master would hear him, though he did want to call the Empress out on this. “We are of Clan Bragsanu. The Fanged God is our master in the darkness, correct? Do we exist to feed him? Or do we exist to let his enemy, the light side grow? Pardon my words of hypocrisy and heresy, for I had just pledged my allegiance to the Empress, but is she really the avatar of the Fanged God as you believe her to be? She inherited her title and speaks words of letting the enemy grow. She did not kill for her position. She leaves a weakness for future plans, by leaving the Spider alive. If he returns, there could be a schism in the darkness. And no one else is attempting to kill her. I don’t attempt to claim the title because I know my weakness. If I was stronger, then perhaps the story would be different. I would challenge her either here in the open or perhaps behind closed doors. But I am young in this world of worlds, and I know my place as the Golden Slave” “But you master...why don’t you attempt to claim it? You are neither young nor weak. You are more of the Fanged God than anyone I know of. I’ve seen how the Clan sees you, even with my short time with you. You’ve taught me to kill or be killed.” Solus turned his attention to the others in the room. The beings here were powerful in their own right, and let his thoughts continue to be spoken quietly out loud. “I do love the idea of using these people for our own services. To kill on a scale impossible to imagine. I do wish to earn their approval as I have attempted to earn yours. Even Inmortos’ approval I desire, though I feel like I have earned it partially. If politics is how you secure their approval, then I endorse your actions, not that my endorsal means much. But our goals must be aligned, correct? Death is the meat of the Fanged God. Not life. “Until I am no longer just the Golden Slave, I seek your approval and will obey you master. But from what little I know of the Fanged God and his forms, we are not obeying his commands fully. We must not allow life to grow, but eliminate it in its entirety.”

Oni, in his foreboding silence, sat and watched as his resolve and wisdom was largely overlooked. But that mattered little. Time would tell the testament of Lady Nyrys' rise and fall just as it had with those before her. The only question that remained, would be how long it would last. Would it last millennia? Or just a few short years? He was intrigued on how her plan and the details would inevitably fall into place. As the one that stepped out returned with the Lord Mavanger in tow, Oni's gaze turned briefly to him, his power delving into the undead a mimicry of his own, but the potential was strong. A grin encrusted his face as he stepped back into place amongst the younger generation as Lady Nyrys stood before the audience and proclaimed the first of her many intents. Shifting his gaze to her, he listened attentively. And as he did, her formulation began to unravel across the holovid. Her idea was majestic, he would have to admit. To focus the target upon the stronger aspect of the Rebellion was bold. But to use the Mandalorians under this Tros as raiders under the guide of Lord Mavanger, whom had already become the face of the recent invasion was calculative. If it succeeded, there was no hindrance on the head of her Empire and would break the trust of the Rebellion and its allies. But if it failed, it would roll off as the Remnants of the Spider's fallen Empire having joined with the surviving Crusaders. Essentially leaving her overall intentions secluded from public knowledge outside of those present. And with the inclusion of the undead, there was security in the fact that dead men would tell no tales. As he snaked around the others during Nyrys' explanation, Oni made his way toward the one known as @Krath Inmortos. He could feel the coldness of death upon this one, smell the rot of flesh beneath the guide of life. When he approached, his blade beckoned the dead that swirled around both and the veil of souls that dorn his form shifted in its call. Rotted gums revealed themselves as the smirk adorned his face and the rotted form of the Mandalorian he possessed announced his presence. "So you are the Lord of Mon Cal?" He poised, the groan of his voice echoing the underworld. "I am Darth Oni." There was no need for Oni to respond to the new Dark Lord just yet, or at all if she did not beckon him. The others held their own means voicing what would need to be said. So for now, it was time for the Necromancers to discuss their futures within her Order. It was only a shame that @Sheog the Madwasn't present to provide his own input.