Exodus

THE SUM OF MY ENEMIES Serpentine were the eyes of the unruly King of the Dark. Searching, sweeping the battlefield that opened up from all around his naval forces, seeing much more than what the sense of vision alone could offer. What he saw was vastly unremarkable. He studied the commanders that barked their orders to fruition, surveying how the enemies behaved themselves in response, and how the impression of thousands of lives burning out in a single moment truly felt once more. There was a fury hidden inside of his features as such things crossed his mind, one that burned through his eyes in the color of bloodstone as he remained witness to the quaint conviction of his enemies. These were their ideals they chose to die behind, herding an alarming levy of sheep to perish for a single uninteresting woman. “Disappointing how the competence of my enemies has fallen so drastically low. Truly, times have changed.” The Emperor stood tall and moved to the center platform, his podium unnecessarily raised despite his already imposing stature. Upon his body he wore an umbrageous black cloak, hauntingly woven with a material that seemed polished with the shadows that followed his steps. The mantled robe was seamed brilliantly with an inner skin of aureated silk, swallowing the reflections of the flames that danced from the open braziers. Lord Exodus moved with the distinction of a tempered warrior-king, hardened and beaten by the savage realities of his homeworlds, yet never missing the grace of a single step in his stride. A breastplate, and shells of blackened Sith Metal sheathed particular areas of his torso, decisively fastened to his unruly vestment. From where he stood, he watched the workforce from beneath. On the vast holoprojectors, he too watched the many brave Onderonians who had once put their lives at great risk to ensure that their Empire would not be brought down by those who sought its destruction. He watched them all in contemplation, the masses gathered back home to see what would come of this battle. They waited on his word as if the sound of them were prophetic in nature, for his voice was rarely heard, but his brooding presence was always felt. "Today, we are gathered here as witnesses.." The tranquilizing voice of the Spider carried across an incredible expanse, magnified throughout Iziz through amplifiers built into the streets, and echoing within the very comms of the entire Sith-Imperial fleet. “To recognize the reckless abandon of the Jedi and their Galactic Alliance first-hand. They have sung the song of peace, hoping that their poisonous words ease us soundly to a sleep. Yet we find them in masses, razing the fields of Carida, wrangling unprovoked war to our homes on Onderon and now here, with incredible odds against our allies to save the skin of a single woman. Commendable I would say, if only the same conviction was shared when millions of lives were readily butchered on Coruscant and many more on Chandrila for good measure. They were nowhere to be found, while those gnawing Crusaders ate their innocents on the footsteps of their very own homes.” A brief pause, to allow the last parallels of his masterfully intoxicating voice to dissolve from the echoing walls. "I implore you to understand the vast military achievements of the men and women here, and around you, who have willingly laid down their lives to bring security and stability to our territories. For without them, this Empire would be nothing. It was they who contested the desecration at the scholarly temples of Carida, protected our sovereignty in Iziz City from the same war criminal that demolished Coruscant, and crushed those that would invade our homes above Onderonian space, bringing the Galactic Alliance and known Jedi to their knees. Without our brothers and sisters, those that stand readily at our side, this Empire does not exist." "We now know the true nature of our enemies, and yet we are the ones that possess the strength to keep them at bay, deservedly proven to rule the galaxy. It is the Empire, not the dominion of any failed Galactic Alliance, that brought back the rule of law to civilization. When you all came to the edge of all of the light you've ever known, and decided to step off into the darkness of the unknown with me; you believed that one of two things would happen. You would have something solid to stand on, or you would be urgently taught how to fly. For that is what it means to be Imperial, that is what it means to be Sith, to have the strength to do what must be done even if it exacts a heavy toll upon us. Because we are a strong people, we will bear this burden as we have all others, and eradicate those that stand in our way." The Sith Emperor raised his fist high, and was imitated by the hundreds of thousands in attendance from the fleet and Iziz City. A collective roar echoed throughout the masses, armies and audience altogether, mimicking a victorious battle cry that drowned out the rumblings of war. Adrenaline shock-waved through the swarm intelligence of the Sith armies, and excitement through triumph riveted the connectivity of home-world and the shared fleets. Exodus spoke with passion, but the darkness that seethed in his bones disallowed him the thrill of emotion. The Anzati inside of him flared with predatory instinct, appraising the immediacy of any threat within the distractions of celebration. The revelry increased regardless, and the power of the Sith-Imperial Fleets roared with brilliance. Exodus stepped from the podium, rounding a pass of stairs that would exit him from the grand stage. An escort of highly-decorated Heavy Sith Troopers shadows his steps in a protective formation, as leery as hounds in the wake of the Dark King. Grand doors opened quickly, decompressing loudly, and revealing a blood-drenched prodigy of the Sith. "..Lady Nyrys," Exodus cracked a sinister smile.

/ / A R M I S T I C E "Like rodents, they scatter.." Strands of hair colored deeply in a stain of rosewood red retreated down the fullness of his shoulders and puddled loosely into his armored lap, unfailingly illustrating the bleeding of innocent lives that the Galactic Alliance enforced. Exodus brushed aside the locks that itched his inexpressive features, sparing no form of compassion for the lives lost by the second. “These people, all of these people can see the wickedness of the Jedi and the Galactic Alliance. Their acts of hostilities to preserve one life over the lives of hundreds of thousands, the willingness to sacrifice the greater many over the selfishness of one. They are no longer bound by honor, they have become what they are mortally sworn to fight against.” An advisor to the Dark Lord spoke freely, with a voice that sounded like it had been chiseled from stone. “You have foreseen this, my Lord. And now they all see it too.” The atmosphere above Iziz City had warmed since the days of their departure, a restorative downpour of rainfall and the rumble of storms in the distance. Nevertheless, the streets of the Sith-Imperial capital city was crowded beyond measure with an attraction that summoned all, governed tightly by the forces of an unprecedented Imperial militia. Black and crimson banners displaying the conjoined crests of the Axis Fleet gestured restlessly from the highest of towers, heaving powerfully in the winds that swept them. Tremendous projectors lined every corner within reach of the Imperial Palace, displaying feeds from the Battle at Dark Sun Station, an even that had drawn each and every citizen of Onderon from miles to watch. “Voss, I am just a stranger, in an even stranger land. Their faces are all unfamiliar, and their names and customs are alien to me. In Iziz, many gather in the streets and cheer for a power that they do not understand, for a strength that promises protection, at the cost of their freedoms. I am King of Onderon, the Dark Lord of the Sith and the Great Devourer of the Light. Many whisper that I am a true Emperor of Darkness, yet a Liberator of the People.” Exodus laughed softly, quietly flashing the winter-white of his sharp teeth, remembering vividly the sentient hunts that he and his Anzati kin inherently enjoyed. “I am no one, Voss. Remember that when I break the frail nature of this pathetic galaxy.” Back on the metropolitan streets of Iziz, and before the houses of Sith worship, the impressive might of an entire host of Sith-Imperial forces paid careful attention. An unbounded measure of the highly-praised Imperial Legion in their elegant war-trappings, arranged themselves in standard formations while they cheered for their allies in victory. Whether the feeds were delayed, or streamed with constant intervals of disruption, the masses roared with an exuberance that resembled that of the last time Onderon space was invaded, and victory followed. Troopers of honored rank stalked among the rows, accompanied by the sinister decadence of the sparing Sith that loomed nearby. Each and every one of them had cause to rejoice, for this would mark the end of an era, and the beginning of a new one. The composite brawn of the Sith Fleet laid into the remnants of the Adi-Wan and cleaved a mercurial level of destruction onto the vessel. An inorganic detonation of the capital ship consumed the panoramic distance that still divided the Axis Fleet from their reunification. Ravings of star-fighters hemmed the borders of the destruction, eating away at survivors without mercy and carving a territorial perimeter in which to secure the position of the Blood Prince with. The remaining warships within the Sith Fleet would mark anything within range, and shred them to pieces if it threatened the collateral of their allied assets. The Kyber itself endured the worst of the first detachment, but excellently positioned itself to trigger another round of devastation if the opposition did not heed their very visible warning. Predictability would reward none on the battlefield, and a statement here and now would enlighten the rest of the galaxy to the horrors of the Galactic Alliance, mirroring that of the Crusaders. The Sith Empire had averted disaster once more, and the people could once again see it for themselves. (Terms were agreed upon, let's have fun narrating the rest of this.)

3. The haunt of the powerful Sith Armada shored the distance to their scurrying prey, slowing as they closed in on them from above. Five formidable vessels formed an electrifying wreath around the gargantuan Scarab, each of them resetting their attack positions whenever they fell into the crosshairs of an enemy craft. The Bleeding Kyber would be the first to endure the ire of the insurrectionist scum, attempting to run emergency maneuvering while being completely engrossed by a furious shelling from the Misericordia, the face of a new threat. The shields took an inflated pounding, while the broadside of the Kyber lit up in vivid color. The peculiar ISD-II ate the rainshower of batteries, and the skin of the vessel seemed to burn with a hue of anguish. All power was partitioned between mobility and shielding, realigning the distressed Destroyer to that of the stationary Misericordia. The decline in shielding was undoubtedly accelerated by the desperation of the enemy, and so the crew doubled over their efforts before they were torn to shreds. There was an eerie calm to the men and women aboard the twisted Kyber however, even as the bombardment began to puncture the chassis of the vessel and wipe scores of exterior weapon placements clean from the surface. Smaller sections of the Kyber destabilized and were immediately voided of life, but the ship aligned regardless of the surge. It was not particularly a calm that befell the enormous crew of the Kyber, but a tempered insanity in which was rooted from the Hutt Master it now belonged to. The meat of the power behind the vessel loaned itself to the failing defensive systems, but now the engines roared to life, preparing to jump right through the new challenger. As the Bleeding Kyber fell from formation, realigning with the gallant Misericordia, the rest of the assault fleet moved forward. While escape crafts poured from the Adi-Wan, the offensive yielded their acceleration and fanned out like a daunting black lotus. The full force of each and every starfighter dedicated to this operation, accompanied by the swift might of both frigates and both gunships, engaged the dying Adi-Wan as well as all rescue or fighter craft in the area. - Kyber is overwhelmed, realigning to jump through target, or melt while trying to keep alive. - All others engage their defeated target. Will leave once this thing is over.

/2 / T E N S I O N The blackened warships were cocooned in a varnish of staggered smoke, a haunted fleet smeared with the acrylic polish of the most unnatural of predators. Hauls of weaponry sprouted an imagery of death and destruction, overwhelming firepower belching every practical ordnance into the crown of the Adi-Wan. The distance from the target was at expected length, but the elevated and angular inlet of the Sith Fleet was menacing for any vessel that would undoubtedly fall within range. The blitzkrieg bombardment from the entirety of the Sith convoy would ordinarily tear the hinges off of whatever they deemed prey, the stream of focus-fire super-heating the very fabric of space. The surprise ambush was orchestrated near flawlessly by way of the communication relays that were left unhampered, and a stoical patience tempered by the strategy of the Spider. The known Jedi ship, a Mon-Cal of all the ships in their repertoire, was weakest from the crest of their design. Surprisingly however, the Mon-Cal remained unblemished, and crawling from those same coordinates was now a shore of star-fighters. The outbreak of firepower from the Black Scarab and the neighboring vessels that shouldered the beast, did little to sway their advancement, but would still rain through them nonetheless. The approach of the Jedi squadrons timed themselves for the immediacy of the hungering Sith squadrons. Widespread formations of TIE/D Defenders howled from their hangers, beginning with those that hailed boastfully from the flagship, ready for a dogfight. The deadlier and more experienced TIE/vn Silencers dispersed like a falling of a flower bloom, into the loose formation of their allied star-fighters. TIE Predators carefully shadowed in from behind the Defenders, the eyes of the formation as they appeared, watching closely for an opening. “Well will you look at these bad boys!” OM-72-8 cackled hilariously across the communications relay of the infamous OMEGA Squadron, easily amused by the sound of his own voice. Scout was first and foremost in breaking the fermented silence, grinning from ear to ear behind the ominous matte black of his helmet. “These coward fu-” Cursing them in chain, he riled with maniacal laughter and over-confidently roughed his controls, rolling the excellent maneuverability of his Tie/vn Silencer to the forefront of the formation. What followed was an innumerable amount of identical vessels that pulled forward and projected their natural shielding. Six TIE/vn silencer squadrons to be exact, included in such was OMEGA, in conjunction with at least ten squadrons of TIE/D defenders that burped into, and formed an obstructive blockade for the impromptu offensive against them. The swarm was frighteningly swift and plowed through the loose shrapnel, fractures of metal digressing entirely, but still finding damage on a small number TIE/D Defenders that trailed. For a few of the newer pilots, the surprise jeopardized their movement and forced unwieldy collisions. Overall, their transitioning was masterful, a keen testament to the imperialistic discipline stemming from their veterans. The technology of a projected energy shield on the TIE/vn Silencers enabled a soft push towards the opening bombardment, but the make-shift barricade would face perilous exposure if another shelling followed. Strangely, none came, and the enemy fighter squadrons escaped with a curious hit-and-run. In earnestness, the Sith-Imperial fighters were prepared and had been launched the moment the Sith Fleet pulled from hyperspace, the flight crews and pilots impatiently waiting for hours for the moment that their enemy would be revealed. Unfortunately, the apex of their arrival had been anticlimactic. OM-72-4, or call sign Huntress, sighed deeply as she rolled her eyes into another star system. “Already? They’re running already?!” The pitch in her voice hit a little higher whenever a smidgen of frustration set into her fuzzy eyebrows. All that meant was that call sign Scout, was laughing louder and more obnoxiously for his crew to hear or to mute. “..Wait, wait. Do you feel that? It’s happening again..” Laughter turned to curiosity, and curiosity turned to silence. There was an unmatched wealth of experience in the connectivity of a battle meditation shared between the armies of the Sith that suddenly spiked the totality of their minds. The Dark King could only smile at the unraveling of the events before him, as he passively coupled the power and minds of those that drank from the dark side by the mere settling of his eyes, the many thousands chain-linked to his command. The synaptic fastenings were raw, and eerily intoxicating. The men, the women, and the creatures of the Sith Empire would forfeit any measure of inertia, and succumb to a brilliant and fervent focus. Their minds would become riddled with a euphoric sense of duty that over-matched the imperialistic doctrine that the masses had acceded to, fixating themselves now to the indomitable will of King Exodus and the Dark Side. Their enemies were most likely of the predictable sense, abstaining from the flush of emotion they felt whenever the presence of the Sith drew near, a tantalizing dread that was combined with an attempt to ignore the inevitable shadow that it cast. This was no welcoming, this was far from a familiarity that any Jedi here could understand. This was the drowning of the Light, a submerging of a cowering breed. To feel the itch of evil on their heels, was the understanding that the reaper could now see them, and that Death was here for them all. The Emperor-King nested on a massive bridge, multiple walkways that spider-webbed with varying engineered constructs and the specialists to operate them. The oeuvre of the Anzati Arachnid, every chamber regally set with imperial decorum but equally met with a heavy saturation of Sith grandeur. An spider-legged iron-anchored command throne that opened up to the beautiful vista of battle, sat high above the footbridges to oversee the operations below. Exodus with eyes completely white, perched towards the mammoth view-port, feeling more than his eyes could see within these walls, fanning the flames of an imposing hive-minded concentration. Lady Nyrys kept an endearing proximity for a deal of time, before the hunt had called her name to purpose. “The Dark Lord is the will, and we are the blade.” She spoke the words before departure, and the words echoed in the minds of the Imperial Watch, whom made it their business to secure the position of their Emperor. Then, the words chanted across the battle meditation slowly, dripping into the brain-pan of all those that savored the mental convergence. Heavy attack formations now made up the advance guard of the Sith Fleet, constituted by the nine TIE/D Defenders squadrons, six TIE/vn Silencers squadrons, two Predator squadrons, four Scimitar Assault Bomber squadrons, and the brooding tip of the Bleeding Kyber. On their flanks were lighter formations, Blackblade and Warspite on the left flank, Hyperion and Sunder on the right flank. The rest of the fighter squadrons interchanged their positions at the rear. The heavy attack lines of each heavy formation moved forward to spearhead the assault, still utilizing the open space from above, sub-light engines burning brightly at full power as the serrated ships sliced into the black of space, still unleashing the heaviest barrages towards the escaping Adi-Wan. The direction of the Sith Fleet aimed to sweep to the left of the Station, while maintaining their ninety-degree angle above the Jedi Fleet below. Trajectory would see them draw nearer to their allies, while their ‘northern’ latitude kept their free-fire safe from allies. Men and women of sure-fire command began boarding operations, assembling task forces to pursue the captured, and those that knew no better than to flee. The influx and influence of the Dark Lord was a windfall of a favor, more incredible of a skin than that of the darkest of nexuses to wear. In this web, a personal prey would soon make itself available for the King to feast on. Ventral and dorsal heavy turbo-lasers repeated their savagery with continued fire into the vacuum of space while cannons and launchers belched kaleidoscopic munitions at their enemies in the course of their chase. The Black Scarab loomed as the cornerstone of it all, blanketing the battlefield with vehemence. The relatively small crew of the Warspite faced a measure of panic as an imposing ISD-II maneuvered themselves into the fray and began firing a meatier barrage of turbo-lasers. The gunship was a horror when displaying its powerful arsenal, but the strength of the Misericordia and what it could carry, was no small thing. The distance between them and their adversaries was still considerable, but a few heavy-set turbolasers connected and smashed the integrity of the entire structure. The deflector shields heavily waned, fluttering before the acceleration of the corvette kicked into gear. The Warspite peeled from the flank of the Scarab and quickly employed evasive procedures, small and quick enough to ruse the firing from the brawny ISD-II from this range. The spearheaded Sith Fleet continued forward, and from above, on the tail of the Adi-Wan, aligning from the same angle they had come in on and advancing on it's starboard. This molded an interesting trajectory for the three forces in question; the Misericordia flanked the Adi-Wan, moving towards it's port, and the entire Sith Offensive angled downward, towards the starboard of the Adi-Wan and sweeping towards the left of the Dark Sun Station. Still, with the retreat of the Adi-Wan, there remained no vessels between them and the Sith amalgamation. * Silencers and Defenders accept the initial assault with their projected/natural shielding. Small scores of star-fighters are slightly damaged by the spread Fleet continues to bear down onto the Adi-Wan, firing their full capacities Formations fill out, while Warspite takes fire from the Misericordia, and separates slightly from formation to take evasive measure. Star-fighters are deployed and spread into formations, at the ready. The harassing hunt continues

"There is an innocence in the Dark Side of the Force; it is found in those to whom it has never yet occurred that they, one day, might become utterly consumed by it." - Dark Lord Exodus, Iv Tave Rozete XI, Chapter III Welcome to the Sith Empire. INTRODUCTION. ------------------ For the last decade within the dominion of uncharted space, Lord Exodus traversed and tantalized those that wandered those same wild realms, to a cause unknown by the sickly brotherhood. The culmination of his conquest led him to his habitation on the dark world of Umbara, wherewith the eccentric nature of the native people, he would spend years forging and fostering the capital into an extraordinary civilization that revered the dark arts he commanded as well as the unique acumen of his mind and spirit. He would subjugate the powerfully advanced society of Umbara and lay himself to rest beneath the earth until the stars aligned for his return. Upon his reawakening, the Spider would piously defy the ruination of the Sith Brotherhood at the hands of their former allies, as well as their mortal enemies, and stave off the blasphemous alliance the two had created. Heedlessly acting, Lord Exodus would raise an Empire of his own and blanket the stars with one of the darkest presences the galaxy would ever taste. Rising above the Imperial Remnant, and ravaging the supreme reign of the Galactic Alliance, the Sith Empire would shake the cosmos to the core and claim rule. Growing indiscriminately, and with the iron resilience of the Sith Empire at shore, the face of Imperial Rule would soon return. THE SITH. ------------------ "The Dark Side of the Force is a pathway to many abilities some consider to be unnatural." - Sheeve Palpatine. The Dark Side of the Force is driven by unbridled passion and emotion, expounding itself when the wielder of it pushes to reach self-interested aspirations. More often than not, it comes from a yearning to do what one believes is morally good, to save someone’s life, or to destroy a source of what the individual may believe is evil. But when you lose yourself to those emotions and desires, whether willing or unwilling, that is the road most traveled for those that dwell within the dark. Channeling the omniscience of the Dark Side however, obediently or masterfully, does not qualify one as representation of the Sith Empire. Abstaining from the ways of old, when senseless in-fighting and aimless savagery welcomed the complete degradation of the Sith Brotherhood and the Sith Order, is how the wisest found compromise. The ailing brotherhood of the Sith carved out a niche within the body of the Empire as the spiritual fist, with their dwindling numbers finding renewed purpose under Lord Exodus. The brotherhood became a tributary to the entirety of the Sith Empire, and was re-engineered to uphold the core tenets of the Sith Philosophy, all while serving a new decree, that the Sith would co-actively labor towards a unified goal. Therefore, the blind and ignorant consumption of the Dark Side, transformed into a more dutiful transaction filled with purpose. The Sith would adhere to their own code zealously, and infectiously spread the word to imperial societies to achieve the adopted objective of galactic rule. Peace is a lie, there is only passion Through passion I gain strength Through strength I gain power Through power I gain victory Through victory my chains are broken The Force shall free me The Sith code is centered around personal improvement and achievement, which consequently, loaned itself to the comprehensive growth and expansion of the Sith Empire . It was about first looking inward, taking your wants and desires, and flourishing with favorable outcomes which would bleed into the success of the Empire. It was taking the emotions, thoughts, and conflicts, and channeling them towards those goals and desires. This philosophy and ideology, was never touted as inherently evil, unless taken to its most extreme, and inevitable conclusion. That conclusion being that once you have achieved your goal, and possess all that you desire, ungoverned greed would come and take the place. Should you descend deeper within that rabbit-hole, the ordinance of the Sith-Imperial Empire would be swift and exacting. These are the realities of those that enter the Sith Empire. Transcending the weakened flesh of your bodies, and becoming invariably more powerful, always breaking the chains that keep you from achieving your goals, and gaining victory even through failure. JOIN US. OOC INFORMATION. ------------------ King of the Sith, Emperor of the Dark. (Faction Leader) Exodus Here is our Guide to the Sith Empire: Click Here Here is a link to our Discord Channel: Click Here If you'd like to join, feel free to post here, and any member will be happy to point you the right way. If you have any questions, feel free to PM myself or any other Staff Members, and anyone will be happy to assist.

A swollen transmission packet from the Marie hatched across the rest of the Axis Armada, the unraveling of information was a flare for the Sith Empire to move. Like wolves, poised with their unruly burning engines like the hungry maws of beasts with teeth bared, they stalked closely. The wide-spread intelligence that spider-webbed their consoles, stirred an uproar of enthusiasm across every able-bodied crew member, which in turn unleashed a bevy of outcries from the mouths of those readied to battle. Distinct coordinates were locked, and within a concise window of opportunity, the synchronization of the Axis came into play. Contingents hailing from the red world Korriban, marshaled onto the Scarab, ushering in familiarity from the tempered banners of Qaela Darksong and Commander Valinor. Sheog the Monstrous entrenched the hallowed steel-ways of the Scarab, his presence alone was a bloat to the conviction of the madmen that idolized his inhumanity, he had returned and the winds of his power seethed through vessel promiscuously. Telperion Ar-Pharazon began to flourish a madness of her own, eating from the same apple of lunacy as her Father once did. She held a promise to power that would soon unloose itself inside of her once ripe. The Lords and Ladies of the Sith carried with them an upholstery of power that began to swell as they contributed to the Empire; foot soldiers sworn to their insignia, entire worlds that whispered their names, all in accordance to the singularity of the Dark Lord of the Sith. While the oriflamme of the Demon of the Sith had been tossed to the side, Neo Krell had risen in its stead with withdrawn purpose, arriving now to demonstrate his commitment to his brothers and sisters. A demonstration Lady Nyrys had no need of. The omen of Ailbasí Zirtani and her banners, was the font of unblemished pandemonium. To expect, was to fail, when opposing her. Unpredictability covered the footsteps of her journey, and rumors of her spread from cannibalism to the seduction of Mandalore. The Elder of Chaos, Lord Vashe Rhazien, would keep an eye on this one. Her elegance and efficiency was pivotal, and hailed as the paradigm for succession within the Sith Empire. It was this woman that approached the bridge, while legions of loyalists to the Empire swarmed one man that stood outstandingly different than the rest. King Exodus, the immortal incarnate to the ilk of shadows, first of his name. Deliverer of the Drinking Dark, a creature that rolled from the bedsheets tangled between Lady Death’s legs to stave the fall of the Sith. Obsidian-bone interlaced the black-polished metal plates that armored his body, the gloomy lighting bridge-wise reflecting a number of runes that were beautifully etched into them. A raised fist. A surge of necromantic power. Before him, the beginning of war began to take form, inky smoke coalescing off of the black iron of his fleet. Exodus gazed upon his domain with dark pride. Staring, the ocean of space became his fixation. Not a second more was spared when the flare sounded, as the Armada of the Sith Empire hyper-jumped, expectedly landing inside the interdiction field appropriated by the enemy forces. The theater of war was sensational, the crawl of battle looked to have just entered the earliest of stages, as vessels realigned themselves to the outnumbered Black Sun Fleet and began to fire away. The magnitude of the Sith Armada emerged gargantuanly from the black of space, already drawn into formation. Hauntingly, the sheer presence of a Dreadnought, and the harrowing vice painted across the large ships of the Sith, was a menacing wonder to behold. Their jump was precise and afforded them an angular vantage point on the vessels that interrupted their trajectory with deployed gravity wells. The Sith Fleet landed in from above, and to the ‘four’ of a particular enemy, inclined at a 90° slant towards the MC90 Cruiser identified as the Adi-Wan. The Bleeding Kyber remained just beneath the Scarab, while the remainder of the fleet molded a defensive shell around the dreadnought. Like scores of locusts, star-fighters from every warship within the Sith Armada belted from their hangars and maneuvered close to central command. Simultaneously, a thunderstorm of weaponry rained down onto the crown of the Adi-Wan. Thousands and thousands of batteries erupted from the Scarab, accompanied by the entire complement of heavy ion cannons as well as the munitions from the rest of the fleet. From the shadows they struck, leveraging the intelligence from the Axis fleet, and positioning themselves to strike crudely into the ranks of those that would bring war to his sector. "Kneel and submit to the Dark.. Or you will be knelt." This whisper was an utterance under his breath, a promise filled with fire. [Summary: The Sith Fleet answers the call for reinforcements. First placement was the rendezvous point, in which positional intelligence would be reported. The advanced systems of the SSD did well to acquire information from the Marie and framed their jump to coincide with the delivery of such critical data. Once the information was in place, the Sith Fleet jumped to battle position and unleashed onto their immediate target, understanding that negotiations had already been forfeit. The Scarab is positioned above the Adi-Wan (and at the four, if the MC90 is at their 12), but inclined at a 90° angle. The Kyber is underneath the Scarab, at a safe distance and in formation. While the remaining ships have formed a defensive coat across the length of the Scarab. All ships, and all weapons have fired and are firing a surprise onslaught onto the crown of the MC90 (top half), while each of the major vessels have begun to deploy their star-fighter screens.] SITH EMPIRE WAR CHEST. AP 22. Warspite Ship Class: Corvette Type: Warrior-Class Gunship Crew: 44 Crew, 36 Gunners Fighters: 2 TIE Defender Squadrons Armaments: 10 Turbolaser Cannons 8 Laser Cannons 4 Concussion Missile Tubes Antimissile Octets Sunder Ship Class: Corvette Type: Warrior-Class Gunship Crew: 44 Crew, 36 Gunners Fighters: 2 TIE Defender Squadrons Armaments: 10 Turbolaser Cannons 8 Laser Cannons 4 Concussion Missile Tubes Antimissile Octets Hyperion Ship Class: Frigate Type: Ardent-class fast frigate Crew: 1400 Starfighter/Troop Complement: 1 Squadron TIE Predators 1 Squadron Scimitar Assault Bombers 2000 Assault troops Armaments: 8 Turbolaser Batteries 6 Point Defense Batteries 4 Ion Cannons 2 Tractor Beams AP: 2 Blackblade Ship Class: Frigate Type: Ardent-class fast frigate Crew: 1400 Starfighter/Troop Complement: 1 Squadron TIE Predators 1 Squadron Scimitar Assault Bombers 2000 Assault troops Armaments: 8 Turbolaser Batteries 6 Point Defense Batteries 4 Ion Cannons 2 Tractor Beams AP: 2 The Bleeding Kyber Ship Class: Star Destroyer Type: ISD-II Crew: 9700, 303 gunners Fighters: 3 TIE/IT Interdictor Squadrons [Kain Variant], 3 K-Wings Squadrons [Kain Variant], 2 TIE Defender Squadrons. Armaments: 50 Heavy Turbolaser Batteries (20 Forward, 15 Left, 15 Right) 50 Heavy Turbolaser Cannons (20 Forward, 10 Left, 10 Right, 10 Aft) 20 Ion Cannons (10 Forward, 5 Left, 5 Right) 8 Octuple barbette turbolaser 10 Tractor Beam Projectors (6 Forward, 2 Left, 2 Right) The Black Scarab Ship Class: Sith Star Dreadnaught Type: Cerberus-class Crew: 300,000 crew Armaments: (Modified) 2000 Heavy Turbolaser Batteries 2000 Turbolaser Batteries 500 Heavy Ion Cannons 500 AG-2G Point Defense Laser Cannons 250 Heavy Concussion Missile Launchers 50 Siege Torpedo Launchers 40 Heavy Tractor Beam Projectors Upgraded Shielding and Armour Package Recessed Bridge and Shield Generators Complement: 12,000 Assault Troops, 6 TIE Defender squadrons, 6 K-Wing Bombers, 6 TIE/vn Silencer Squadrons, 6 Scimitar Assault Bomber Squadrons AP: 12 [TIE/IT INTERDICTOR ; KAIN VARIANT] A similar design change was implemented in the now-constructing group of TIE/IT Interdictors, adding base model hyperdrives and aftermarket navi-computers. The result was a slightly extended fuselage on most of the craft, and perhaps a slight bit more sluggish maneuverability, but at least they would be able to join the rest of the fleet in hyperspace. It also didn't diminish their arsenal capabilities in the slightest, being loaded with six plasma torpedoes, six homing missiles, and the standard sixteen proton bombs each, which wasn't even taking into account the standard laser cannons they were designed with. [K-WINGS ; KAIN VARIANT] the K-Wings, diverse heavy hitters with 18 customizable hardpoints to attach missiles and the like. The standard layout Kain chose to have for their hardpoints was four plasma torpedoes, flechette bombs, six homing missiles, and four chain-linked slugthrowers with 1,200 armor-piercing rounds total between them, as well as two discord missiles. The buzz droids in these missiles were painted matte black and designed to be near invisible in spacial combat until it was too late to realize you were in a field full of them. They were equipped with a small IFF receiver, allowing them to easily distinguish between friendly ships and hostile ones. Otherwise, their function practically remained the same, use maglocks to latch onto enemy craft, particularly starfighters, and shred them to pieces.

"We've intercepted a leak," a communications specialist announced. "Overall, it gives us a schematic for the conditions ahead." The diversified crew assembled in front of her subconsciously shuddered at the mention of the information delivered. Where it had all started. "So what are you asking, we have our orders?" A blonde-haired man near the back asked. The burly Onderonian in the front raised an eyebrow at that, but said nothing. "What strategic purpose would this hold?" Another spoke, a pilot and one of the veteran leaders of the squadron that was active in the battle previous to this. The conversations continued and the squadron's collectives eyes widened at the new content being divulged and shared between the council. But somewhere, deep down inside, they relished the negotiations left on the table. They looked to each other, as if affirming something. ///////// Emperor Exodus, better known as the Dark King of the Sith, watched from the bridge of the Sith Star Dreadnaught The Black Scarab. He had commissioned it when he was puppeteering the strings of a fresh governing body to better organize the failing brotherhood of the Sith, and thus it held a critical place in what remained of his heart. A veritable ocean of ensigns assaulted his ears as they gave each other orders pertaining to the preparation and maintenance of the ship. The Warmonger Flotilla exited hyperspace in the black of space. The Emperor had ordered all available personnel to be shifted to this rendezvous point, and for good reason. Morale lifted higher and higher throughout the ranks as names that had seemed to disappear from public view, returned to the fore fearlessly, prepared to deliver for their leader. The Sith Empire gathered.

P 0 0 3 The Council beneath the Spider picked apart the intelligence that had gushed onto their table, with choices that would hold vast consequences no matter the decision. Members of the Council had their time tallied, powerful minds that were capable of far-reaching foresight, each drawing on the possibilities set before them. Ailbasí had unearthed the roots and historic value of a planet Cathar, stationing an intrinsic hold on the lands of a vicious species, planting the seed for future harvest. Word was, that the fair lady had discovered the promise of not one, but two apprentices that were ripe with the call of the Force. Invaluable was the word used between the members of the Dark Council, for the replenishing of the fallen ranks of Sith over the last few years was key to their ascension. Lady Nyrys had decided to take it a step further than that, imprinting the mark of the Sith Empire on the beskar-clad world of Mandalore. This was a position of irrefutable strength. News of this had traveled to King Exodus immediately, especially because those that carried vested interest in the department of foreign relations had become frenzied at the thought that a newcomer had trespassed against her authority. The Dark Lord quieted any discomfort and allowed Lady Nyrys to work unimpeded, this would offer her the freedom to do what many others in her position continuously failed to do; building an independent and tangible power-base directly attributed to her ranking within the Sith Empire. This was no simple task, and the diligence required to do so took a wealth of ambition that many others had proven to lack in droves. This earned genuine favor from the King of the Sith, even from those within the Empire that continued to hear her name in discussions inside of council meetings, listening with an itch of jealousy for what she had accomplished in such a small window of time. One of the many other affairs dissected at the gathering within the Spire, was the subject of the Blood Prince. This was a creature of far spread experiences, hands that were clothed with the deaths of a great many, a sound strategist and ally to those that he had sworn himself too. His dealings represented the nature of the Black Sun Crime Syndicate, an organization that Lord Exodus had reached out and given life to when their existence, along with the Brotherhood of the Sith, was at an end. The correspondence team had received more troubling information in this case, unraveling a possible assault on Dark Sun Station from sworn enemies that were in search of the false Empress. Displeasure was the tone carried across the chambers. It was made clear on Kuat that the Imperial Remnant held neither the interest nor the concern of the true Emperor. The era of children running amok with titles for crowns, binding the stupidity of sheep together to forge armies with no foundation, was a dying theme. Exodus knew this truth and continued to sharpen steel with steel to fasten the Sith Empire to the roots of the galaxy, ensuring their formation would not blow out like a candle-flame against the winds in which many others before had suffered. This truth was not shared by his allies, and for that, they were unprepared. The Black Sun had managed to capture the false Empress, shackled and bound but for a purpose that failed to bear fruit. The Imperial Remnant had their fleet dismantled into pieces above the powerful orbit of Kuat, and their morale left in the hands of screaming exorcists. Whichever string in the webs of these events that Exodus wished to see, he could pry from the memories of those that had survived them. He watched in the ways they fought, organized themselves with reckless abandon, and cared little for the chess moves that were veiled in every breath. Mere children of the Force, playing with powers of the galaxy while still feeding at the teat of the breast. The Empress of these things would have no information to produce, and merely served as a rallying cry for those that had now come. It was as if their allies were desperate, moving with lack of reason and purpose. They held onto a pawn of war and in return, was met with their doom. The council shared their displeasure openly, a stain on the coat-of-arms invisibly worn on the chest of the Blood Prince. There were those that even whispered of betrayal, a setup brewing behind the call for reinforcements. The evidence of this was not hard to find, the idea painted itself very vividly, for the odds were counted against their dumbfounded allies and a plan shared between the Axis did not exist. Recent victories had been a merit of their unrivaled coordination, enmeshed in their coupled movements and strategies, but now there was nothing but a cry for help in the black of space. The reason that these criminals had not slit the throat of the little woman who dressed her name as an Empress, or even bargained for wealth as was their nature, was innately suspicious. No, the council would have no parts, for the treachery of the Old Empire had nearly costed the lives of each of the Sith now present, and they would not allow Black Sun to recklessly do the same. Delta-73, the Blood Prince of the Black Sun would die with his name and carry the weight of his failures to the afterlife. The crime-lords would understand swift destruction at the hands of those that now opposed them, and the odds that they faced without the slightest notion of a plan, would assure this. The council brushed the concerns of their confused allies aside, and listened to the roar of the Sith Empire fleet outside. Glorious was the sight of Onderon, shadowed by the Black Scarab and the locusts of vessels that surrounded it. As much as the delegations of the Dark Council carried weight, King Exodus had neglected to take part in them, focused rather on the knowledge of the Dark Side as he had done in the past few months. His say was final, and increasingly unchallengeable with mounting success. The forces made ready for war, most believing that the Crusaders that stampeded across the galaxy, would meet the Sith Empire at Mandalore. Communication between the two powerhouses had been nonexistent, so each of the commanders within the Sith Armada prepared for the worst. There would be blood to be paid, or a new-found ally to spill it with. Exodus however, remained quiet over the last few days, reserved to his personal chambers, while his intentions remained unknown. His command structure pleaded in many ways to understand the next move, but answers had not surfaced in the latest. On the eve of this morning however, the war-horns of the capital thundered across the world of Onderon, enticing a religious-like zeal across the nations as the armies of the Sith Empire began to line their departure. [Transmissions sent to Lady Nyrys for rendezvous] [Lord Exodus has sent for Sheog, Neo, Telperien, and Eve to board the Black Scarab, immediately] [Transmission to All Sith have been sent, to rendezvous in Space with the Sith Fleet] Prepare for War.

There was an odd nature in which this creature chose his words, bizarre for even the most unaware to speak so freely on things they had no knowledge of. This was the position of the eminent that he loosened his tongue about, Sith who had championed themselves to be the best of the best. Exceptional was a word that barely scratched the surface of what it was to be named Darth in the annals of the Sith, save for a few names that had weaseled their way into the ranks. The ones that were of his own ilk, would manufacture foundations of power wherever they walked, establishing vast militaristic followings. They were an unparalleled caste of gladiators that could unseat the souls of thousands in one sitting. To be named Darth, was to become a Master of your domain, wielding tremendous amounts of influence and aptitude in all the ways of the Dark Side. "Tread carefully. You, in the way you speak, reminds me of a spineless pup I had put down." Exodus did not smile this time, for the conviction that the white wolf had carried, had him buried to bones in the soils of Onderon proper. Montar walked a treacherous line, consorting with an enemy without sanction, side-stepping the opportunity to a fair confession. Fear drove him to panic and to consequently abandon his cause, and perhaps a man like Oni who had conspired against Lord Ryu, would not shy to double-cross the Spider. "You have cast aside the honor of Darth, in defeat I might add, despite the mandate of our customs. I have been well-informed of the Kuat Invasion, most notably of the failures that followed it, brother. The rumors are most disappointing, particularly in the allusion that it was a Je'daii that had broken your chains. Awful, for the many others that fell alongside you. However," Exodus stood tall from his seat, walking towards his brother with a keen look in his eyes, supremely curious if these whispers were truths. His plague had dissolved, and his dismissal of his symbolic importance to the Empire bordered egregiousness, meaning it could not be far-fetched. "Foul, he says". Exodus scoffed inaudibly, but chose to understand the predicament of the debilitated warrior, a man convinced he was cured but with nothing to show for it. Still, he returned and offered his respects when many others had been too cowardly to do the same. In this, he still held the ear of an old friend. "The Shipyards at Kuat have been acculturated with our forces, so the price was paid. Lady Nyrys and her apprentices have postured themselves on both Cathar and, unexpectedly, the planet Mandalore. Her contributions have been refreshing in a time where our ranks have dwindled drastically. Where our power wanes in the choices of distinguished Sith, it doubly grows with the Imperials that now march under my banner. This Sith Empire is a far-cry from what it was before the Umbarans called for me, and now it is time for you to make your mark. Exodus stood a foot or two from Neo now, eyeing the creatures he had brought to accompany him, and then those venomous eyes canvassing what was once the Demon of the Sith. The Dark Lord reserved his doubts on whether or not this silver-haired son of Nurgle had lost his step and quarters of his strength with the passing of the plague. It mattered not, for if the Spider found this Neo Krell unwanting.. "If you cross me, I will kill you myself." Exodus altruistically placed his arm on the shoulder of his old comrade, and let it fall as he brushed by the theatrical trio. The metal of his gauntlet was hauntingly cold, and the shadows that clotted the vast training chambers seemed to follow him on the way out. "What lies ahead is more of the same, brother. War. Like I've told the others, prepare yourself, the ships will soon be ready to leave. Whether you adhere to the title or not, you are bound as a soldier of the Sith and you will prove your worth. Do not fail me again."

C O L O G N E The torch-fires inside of the room flickered, the shadows pranced as if there were water in the walls for them to swim. Exodus sat on a black hover-chair in the middle of the wide room, dampening the sweat seep from his skin with a plush towel. There was an eerie aura that was shackled to this room, one that the mouth would find brackish, almost a haunting darkness that was enthralled by the presence of the Dark King and the black arts he rehearsed within these walls. "..The blood on your hands cannot be washed. Your scent is the same." Exodus spoke with an air of indifference, for the skin that covered power mattered little to him. It was the contrast of the Force beneath the peel of one's pelt that concerned him. The Spider had keener senses than even the White Wolf of the Sith, a creature that could not hold a candle to the savoir-faire of the Dark King, a traitor to the dark that was broken beneath the boot of the Spider's command. Had the Demon Oni fallen victim to such imcompetence as well? "So, what do they call you now?" Curiously, the question held a venomous tone, bitterly breathing the words as he finally looked towards his guest with incandescent eyes.

S W E A T E Q U I T Y Auspices of the Spider were found carved into each of the black stone pillars that formed the brilliance of the Spire. From the peak of the tower, to the subterranean bowels beneath, his mark was found far and wide. Each divination and each omen were written in an illustration characterized by battle and wit and the truth was, his reach was considerably farther than what these pictures could ever reveal. There were many names for him, many epithets that tried their best to distinguish the legacies that fell inside of his charter, and more would come when the darkness passed over the spread of the stars. The sub-surfaces of the Spire was rowdier than usual. Hours after his commune with another of his students, Exodus had descended into the underbellies of the complex with a detachment of elite foot soldiers, hailing from the most powerful of distinctions. Adherence to the maturation of his abilities and physical conditioning remained a key component to his regimen, and he was a monster that showed no restraint whenever he did so. Rumors that a new ilk of creatures, viciously warped from the Heart of Onderon, were beginning to spawn and were herded for experimentation and combat analysis. Exodus would be the first to trial them, breaking these creatures alive or dead, was a natural proficiency for the Anzati King. --- [Neo] "Lord Exodus commands your presence in the lower levels, immediately. Time is of the essence." [DELIBERATIONS BETWEEN CATHAR & MANDALORE MANAGED; COUNCIL DELEGATION] [INCOMING MESSAGE FROM DELTA-73 RECEIVED; COUNCIL DELEGATION]

ORBITAL KEYS. In the aftermath of that dismal triumph on Kuat, seasoned workforces within the Sith-Imperial operation rallied their numbers in order to promote a sense of structure and discipline, and moved to rid the installments of the previous proprietor. Hundreds if not thousands were outsourced from planetary establishments possessed by the outstretched hands of the Sith Empire, each of them heeding the call of service. The illustrious Kuat Drive Yards had a new master. The narcissistic Galactic Alliance, for all of their posturing, had proven fallible and quite unsound in their rule of the Core Worlds. The planets and their holds were falling, faster than any of their co-conspirators could flee. Rule would not remain in the grasp of the unworthy, which was demonstrated by the weak who had fallen without grace on both sides. Barren husks of breached destroyers hung in high orbit, advertising the woes of war to the shell-shocked populace below. The garish screech of TIE-modeled fighters could be heard as they proceeded their sweeps planet-wide. Enormous outfits of Sith Troopers marched the wide corridors of the ringed shipyards, accompanied by what appeared to be the notorious white-armored Stormtroopers, all platoons carrying high vermilion banners as a clear statement. With the Sith Empire evolving, Kuat now settled in as one of the first of many worlds to be secured under Imperial dominance, ushering in a smooth transition of rule under a new governing body. The Dark Council would soon convene to delegate new leadership to monitor the Kuat system, immediately ensuring a restriction of access to these prominent orbital shipyards. All of the Kuati shipyards would fall under military jurisdiction and become operated with varying degrees of supervision and regulation, but first, the purging of the remnants of battle would be prioritized.

"So you're the Spider?" "I am, as they say." An armored raiment of bleached bone and spell-bounded metal sheathed the herculean Sith-King. Imperial embroideries knotted the mantled cloak chained around his neck, while hand-crafted heraldic runes colored his open breastplate. The repose that was normally found in the face of this man, was now masked by a helmet carved in the vein of the creature they hailed him as. The skeins of his web-work found themselves in places none would ever reach, the utterance of his name inspired an unconquerable fear in the hearts of those that knew him by his labors, so the insecta-cognomen was one of the many ways these people likened him to his many faces of death. It was an aesthetic that he cared little for, but wore those faces without prejudice, daringly fixated on the two creatures that had now arrived. "What do you know of pleasure?" His voice carried a baleful inflection, a crisp echo that felt sinister as the words crawled from his helm. This was no question. He did not wish to understand what this creature meant; for the pleasures of a butcher fell in dark contrast to the pleasures of readied cattle, and this creature was not worth her weight in the world of livestock. She would be tantamount to an infantile rat, on the highfalutin platter of a Hutt. Sheog would belch and she would fly. It was her strange tone that precipitated his curiosity, and his rhetorical response served only for her to hold her tongue, for she would bow nonetheless. Beneath five feet, weighing one-hundred pounds at best, physically she was unremarkable. Exodus turned his attention to his own apprentice, and smiled beneath the bone of his mask, "You may," The Dark King looked back towards the small humanoid, with the same smile unseen by the two of them. "If this creature is underwhelming in any way, put a blade to her throat, and have her sing to you these pleasures. Bleed her dry, then dispose of her and find a new one. We no longer have the luxury of time for the meek, you will be held personally responsible." Exodus moved from the two bowed, unconcerned with cuing them to rise. His slow and measured steps carried him closer to the enormous windscreen, looking down the length of the Spire, noticing another that remained in wait. The flock had truly come home; lighter, weaker and less prepared for what was to come. There were some that continued to labor toward a more determined path within the Sith Empire, and his apprentice had been one of the few, so what of the one in wait? Perhaps the Golden child was prepared for the next step in her pursuit of power, or perhaps she had a lot more to learn like her father before. We would see. "Telperiën. Dathomir bows before you. You are my shadow, and you will lead them." The Dark King raised his left hand, tightening his fist into a firm clench. All, if not most of the creatures that followed his command, held no direction or ambition of their own. The expansion of the Sith Empire would require more intelligent minds, and more capable warriors in the fights to come, time would tell where these two would rank. "Little Ar-Pharazon. You will hereby be recognized as a Lord and Lady within the totality of the Sith Empire, the dominion of your home world and your provisions in the defense of Onderon have resounded throughout my armies. Rise anew, and be prepared for the battles to come, for you still have much to learn." The quality of his articulation remained matter-of-fact, bold and sinister from beneath the chiseled mask. Although he existed here and in this moment, his mind and his ambitions navigated higher than any of these two could fathom. It was as if he could see the battles to come as he stood staring outside of the Spire, the triumphs and the exaggerated bloodshed that would come to past. "We move to continue the campaign. Gather what you'll need."

Language of the Old Kings Eater of the Left-Handed God Technical Information AREA: Force Voice, Amplification, Unique, Hadzuska Snekta (Shadow Dialect), Ancient Language, Epigraphy, Calligraphy, Runestones, Obelisk, True Essence ALIGNMENT: Dark Side PRACTITIONERS: Emperor and Dark King of the Sith. (Lord Exodus, Malacoda Syn) INTENT: As such, followers of the Spider King believe that their voice and breath is their very essence, and that channeling this life essence is how true power operates. The Anzati are able to use the language to great effect due to their ability to eat the soul or soup of their victims, and consume a thorough knowledge. Exodus is special in the sense that he is a powerful Anzati with a natural and innate affinity to devour intra-cellular knowledge. It is specified that Anzati can take the souls of those that are alive or those that have fallen and use their soup to inherit all of the conscious or subconscious knowledge that would otherwise be lost. Gateway ability; opens up quick-cast of Sith Magic, rune creation, generic force power augmentation. V A L Z I N O Z U D I F A S ________________________________________________________________________________________________ “It's not magic; it's the ability to force concepts to exist, once you know them. It's an issue of intelligence, knowledge, practice and, in the case of Emperor Exodus, inborn ability.” - Seer Vhar, his interpretation on witnessing The Voice. Valzino Zudifas (God Killer), also plainly named “Force Voice” or monikered as the Voice, is a complex form of Sith Magic which manipulates the powerful tongue of an archaic, ancient and forgotten Sith Lexicon. Valzino Zudifas is an intricate system of energy manipulation, a devolved form of force power from the alter tree, blended profusely with Sith Magic. It requires extreme skill and knowledge, requiring a user to create a pantomiming link between linguistic vibrations, their raw force power output, and their invocation of Sith incantation. The same rule applies to objects transcribed with the language, creating a binding effect. By way of the force-saturated language, the practitioner is able to speak commands in and of the force, equivalent to a phonetic casting of spells, brimming with immense power. Of the subjects studied within the temples of the Sith, this branch of invocation is one of the most capable of being described as a black art and requires complete erudition in the essence of a person, place or thing. It is how this dialect of power is accomplished, an academic discipline where one perceives the true essence of a person, place or thing, and through that understanding gains absolute control over the subject by means of the Force and the powerful language. This power can be used by the practitioner in a variety of ways. For example, natural forces like an unprotected and naked flame can be called upon to sheath the blade of the one who utters the language (physical augmentation), the speaker can convincingly burn the world around another or crumble it into dust (illusion), and the living as well as the dead can be commanded by the speakers’ will. The Holocron of the Spider King would depict a matter’s true essence as being comprised of everything that has gone into its shaping since its creation, citing the numerous forces and materials that have shaped the matter over time. The amount of knowledge and information necessary to perceive and understand such things is overwhelming to the cognizant mind, and for this reason a matter can only be perceived by the submerged mind which is then spoken and framed in ancient speech to command through the force. Such an inconceivable wealth of knowledge cannot easily be processed by the mundane creatures of the universe, but an Anzati and their harvest of soup, coupled by their vast life expectancy allows this master-ship of force abilities and Sith Magic. The all-powerful tongue must be careful when they speak, for their voice can be the cause of great destruction. “Your bones tremble when he speaks, not for fear of what he may or may not say, but because the sound of his words actually have a strange weight to them, the breath of them crawl beneath our skin, and threaten to break us into pieces.” - Imperial Officer of the Armada ________________________________________________________________________________________________ History Sith, or the Sith language, was the native language of the people of Ziost and Korriban. It was adopted as the mystical language of the Sith Order after the Dark Jedi Exiles enslaved the Sith species. Sith was an agglutinative language, in which words or even phrases were made up of linears sequences of distinct meaningful units. Despite the preeminence of the Galactic Basic Standard, the Sith language remained in use up until the post-Imperial period. To the Lost Tribe of Sith, an order founded on the remote planet Kesh, the Sith language was known as the Old Tongue. Originally, this language was only spoken by the Sith, a species of red–skinned Humanoids from the Stygian Caldera. It was later expanded upon and evolved when the second generation of Dark Jedi split from the Jedi Order in 7000 BBY, just after the Battle of Corbos, and enslaved the natives of Korriban. The Sith language became a symbol of the newly created Sith Order, a powerful sect of dark side adepts. This was made easier through the creation of devices known as translation talismans. Such artifacts, initially designed and created by the Jedi Exiles who sought to learn of the Sith's secrets, allowed their wearer to read the Sith language as if it were their own mother tongue. The Code of the Sith, originally penned in Basic by the Exile Sorzus Syn and inspired by the lifestyle of the Sith Purebloods, was also translated in Sith language as Qotsisajak. Around 5000 BBY, the Sith Dreadnaught Omen was forced to crash land on the remote planet Kesh. The marooned Sith were never able to to return to space, so they settled amongst the native Keshiri and founded the Lost Tribe of Sith. This allowed the Sith language to expand far from its cradle. In this marginal Sith colony, the language became known as "the Old Tongue". The Sith language was originally written in complex hieroglyphics. Over the centuries, Sith scribes wished to develop less complicated scripts. This resulted in the creation of two different scripts. The first one, known as "Common Sith" was used for mundane, everyday use, while the other, "High Sith" was for ecclesiastical use. A third writing system known as the Kittât was also used for incantation scrolls. The latter consisted of thirty-seven runes, and was suitable for both calligraphy and epigraphy. The Massassi warriors who followed the Sith Lord Naga Sadow in exile on the fourth moon of Yavin Prime also developed their own hieroglyphic system, a simplified version of High Sith. They carved many inscriptions using this new writing system on temple walls and obelisks. Historically, tempered variations of the Sith Language evolved on their own accord, some harnessing a power beyond the merit of simply being words. The language was preserved in holocrons, temples, tomes and written all over ancient obelisks. However, outside of the dark side circles, very few scholars knew how to decipher this language, and even fewer could pronounce its complex word structures. It would not be long before the mysticism of a particular language of High Sith caught the interest of the Anzati King Exodus, habitually becoming familiar with the tongue of a most ancient Sith in secrecy, canvassing leather-bound volumes covered with blood-red ink just as Darth Bane once did. ___________________________________________________________________________________________________ Zhol kash dinora.—"It is done."

The seer was not able to finish his sentence before the wash of power that was the King of the Sith, moved within the speed of thought, interrupting his delivery of the message. The taut dark-charred leather of Exodus' boots pounded the metal beneath him as he stormed from his chambers, brushing passed the Voss creature, and leaving the Krathen Hutt to his thoughts. The smooth black doors to his chambers opened and immediately reset the alertness of the men that were stationed before them. Iziz hailed with rain once more, and the Spire stood out-cropped like a glistening dark blade against the clouded skies. Exodus reached the end of the hallway and rounded the corner, moving to prepare for another conquest. He caught the panoramic downpour that stretched passed the city, and into the profilic jungles, yawning across the world of Onderon. Nourishment for the creatures that were twisting in the dark, feeding on a power loaned to this world by the Sith. The buried Nexus was alive and spreading, pushing the shoreline of its influence deeper and deeper to feed an army that the enemies of the Sith had not seen in decades. There were several messages from the headquarters of the armada, and it seemed the Rebellion had gotten its breath back, and with that, came Jedi. This was evidenced by reports of violent incidents in several systems that were historically known to house them—and, most disturbingly, full-fledged attacks upon these worlds that seem to operate with no resistence. Sith-Imperial Intelligence would undoubtedly keep tabs on the continued conflict, while the Sith Empire fanned the flames of their expansion. Meanwhile, his apprentice drew near with words. Exodus would hear them before the onset of a new chapter.

It was an unusual dialect that the Hutt spoke with; some words passed with odd diction, others were dressed with expected satire. Subliminals, conceit, and truth. The creature said more than the words were meant too, and perhaps some of which were intended for the the Anzati King. He was numb to the impressions however, and dangerously so. Exodus spun the hilt of his blade in his palm indifferently, almost a force of habit with the nature of dark thoughts churning inside of his uneasy mind. The Hutt spoke true when it came to the inadequacies of those that had fumbled on Kuat, a shameful representation, but one that did very little to stunt progression. What none of them understood was what it took to build an empire from the inside, the composure and diligence that was required, otherwise they themselves would be heralded as more than just simple vassals of anger. Soon, he would show them the face that every one of them truly feared. As the thought crossed his mind, he sat the skeletal face-helm on his head. "Let us, but I wait for no one." The darkness that covered the warlike metropolis moved in palpable waves. Magnifying with each passing day, festering in and around all living creatures, and filling their minds with anger, vanity, greed, and all emotions of the Dark Side of the Force. On the other hand, Imperial discipline hardened each of them, manacling the citizens of Iziz and the rest of the Sith Empire to do the work of one. On a segregated plateau that overlooked the city of Iziz—the sovereign city built by the living, was now the breathing heart of both the Empire and the Dark Side stood. The locus of the Glass Spire marveled where it stood, built as a black nexus that exuded raw power and attracted additional kogs to the machine of the Sith. The Oracle of the King-Emperor, Vhar Leon strode into the heart of the darkened Spire, flanked by a squad of faceless Imperial Guardsmen, who marched in mute silence behind him. A turbolift brought he and his Guardsmen up to the pinnacle of the Spire, the Emperor's private quarters. A pair of Guardsmen stood guard outside the Emperor's quarters, and they crossed their force pikes as Vhar and his Guardsmen approached. "The Emperor has a visitor," one of them said, though Vhar couldn't tell which with their helmets on. "I'm afraid that I have no choice," Vhar spoke with the accent of the Voss. "I will pass." The Guardsmen hesitated, before uncrossing their pikes. "Be it upon your head, Grand Seer," they warned. The unit of Guardsmen that had accompanied him refused to go further and waited silently as he stepped through the doorway. He could not readily see his Emperor, but the darkness and hatred that filled the room showed that he was still here, Lord Sheog to his surprise as well. Vhar fell to his knees, his head low as a show of subservience. "My Lords," he said, his monotonous voice as flat as it had always been.The Spider seemed to appear out of the shadows, the dark somehow receding slightly, revealing the King before him. "What is it?" Exodus knew that his apprentice had returned, and he understood what it meant now that the Hutt had returned, but Vhar seemed eager. "I believe.. we have found the Jedi."

M A D N E S S Furion, Quietus, and Draken, it made no difference in the who. There were other names, other identities that absconded their burdens and turned their backs. Keenava had downshifted, falling from grace and regressing into a mere hound of the Korriban sands. Now she lay dead, spirit just as lost as her fragmented mind was. Even the promise of pledging apprentices, rallying their weight towards the efforts of Kuat, and coming up short against their adversaries. Glory, and victory, escaped them all. Root and stem of the brotherhood was perforated with rot, but the Sith Empire remained supreme.; a balance barely held together by the strength and name of the Spider, and the hundreds of thousands he now commanded. “My mind is, unclear as of late.” Except that it was not, his lie was spun from a retch of emotion that was born of anger, his mind was sharper than it had ever been. Allegiance was a shrewd notion among the evils of the galaxy, and the madness of suspicion was a thing unavoidable by all that swam within the dark side of the force. Ordinarily, the merriment of the Hutt would ease the fire inside of Exodus, but this fuel burned a different mettle inside his black soul. Exodus watched as the silver headdress clattered across his floor, staring from afar with no intention to move to recover it. A treasure from the child that presided over the remnants of the old empire, a worthless jewel borne of treasonous turncoats. Exodus stood, his disinterest in the Empress was unmistakable. He focused instead on the readiness of his battle raiment, the aesthetics of which were shadowed from the swallowing darkness. Lastly was the form of a soot-covered half-skull helmet cradled inside the tuck of his right arm, while his infamous blade remained clutched inside of his left hand. The Spider was yearning the adrenaline of battle, for reasons that longingly churned his blood, and he would leave Onderon to enact death as he saw fit. However, the Hutt had come home at last, and the inkling of why was a curiosity he would have answered. Moreover, whispers ascertained that his apprentice had returned. Before all, he would measure the true intent of the Lord of Madness. "Lord Sheog, what do you think of what the Sith have become?"

There was a time when Malachi only ever came here in his dreams. Foreboding dreams, full of fear and an impenetrable darkness. It would always begin with him in the empty castle, searching for family. The ravens were gone from the rookery; the stables were full of old bones, whether human or animal he could never quite tell. Silence met his every frantic cry as he called out their names time and again. Their names would freeze on his lips as he remembered the bones. As always, in strange dreams, he found himself pulled towards the crypts with a compulsion, impossible to resist. He could see only the top few steps spiraling into the blackness of the tombs where the Anzati Kings slept forever more. Stone wyverns rendered mid-snarl, bared their granite teeth and their massive wings as he passed them by fighting the urge to scream. He always awoke, heart fiercely beating and gasping for air, in the safety of his own bed. But that animal fear had left him now. The people knew him as Exodus, a cold-blooded assassin and a conqueror of worlds. The boy that had worked his tiresome due in the slums, had carved himself into a King of the fearsome Sith. Fear was an ideology that worked for him now, an emotion synonymously enslaved to his name. The periods between conciousness and sleep were no more than blinking, turning the page to another chapter. And so, the Dark King rose from the folds of his bed, sleep quite obviously an awkward luxury in his schedule. In the moments he took to compose himself, and wash the idle from his face, the whispers of the blackened force crawled into his ear. They were the soft reminders that weighed heavily on his mind. "After all you've done, they have abandoned you." Glorified men and women that had called themselves Sith, creatures that mantled the title and whored the name, vanishing by the day. Exodus had burned the remnants of Old back on Korriban, burying the bones of them and those loyal to them far beneath the sands. Blatant heresy ran rampant within the brotherhood, and the lawlessness had proven to be one of the main ingredients to their constant failures as a powerhouse in the wars past. Now, with halves of the old empire in tow, the Sith Empire prospered more than ever. Yet and still, "..Even the Hutt has left you." Exodus leaned towards the porcelain basin and spit into the centerpiece of the cold vanity. Looking up, the large mirror reflected the unblemished face of the young King, long fiery hair rebelliously falling in folds over his skin. His face was unmeasured this time, there was no neutrality in his features, simply hate. The facecloth whipped to his hand on demand, and he dried the dew from his skin, pearly emeralds still stared directly back at him, burning with strangled concentration. He held onto these emotions for weeks now, dishing out unprecedented force in each of his combat exercises, removing the restraints of his lethality. The Anzati Blood inside of him burned differently, brighter and more true. Just outside of his quarters, the rest of his Anzanti covenant already lined the Glass Spire, waiting amidst royal visitors native to Onderon. The arrival of his family must've spurred a deeper nature inside of him, one that reminded him that the chess-pieces were nothing more than just that. He wished to have no further part to play in the ceremonies, or the pleasantries of customs, the others would fill those roles. He would continue the legacy, with his own two hands. "You risk your life, skulking about in my shadows," Exodus spoke loosely. Lady Gethwine's hands were cupped around a candle that had long extinguished. Only a stub remained, with the blackened wick protruding from the molten pool. Nothing of her appearance revealed itself, but Exodus knew who she was. "You have quite the nose, my Lord." her voice honey-combed with curiosity and small laughter. She kept close to the walls, sunken and wrapped in the blackest of cloth. He remembered her from his home; a draught of air would sigh through the rib-vaulted ceiling or a chill would rise from the flagstones whenever she approached. "The reek of your enemies is unmistakable by now, yet they still tread carefully.." She was prying, but traveling such a distance for something she knew was unlikely for the Consul of Secrets. "They are little more than children, Gethwine. The one who calls herself Empress is an example of this, I will not entertain child's play. Not one of them had made contact with the Sith, and those that moved to Kuat on the heels of the Hutt had not returned. The betrayal from the White Wolf, and the incompetence from the rest was enough to scorn him deeply, for he had invested in the future of the Sith by those that sworn themselves. From inside his pocket, he withdrew an artifact. Black enameled, with a three headed dragon studded into the front with cloud-colored crystals, and the sprawling legs of a spider. He nudged open the filigree clasp to reveal a small inscription, carvings in High Sith that would be unrecognizable to most. Still, something was to be done.

Savareen Astrographical Information Region: Outer Rim Trade Routes: Corellian Run Orbital Position: -- Grid Coordinates: -- Physical Information Class: Terrestrial Atmosphere: Type 1 Breathable Oxygen Mix Primary Terrain: Deserts, Oceans Points of Interest: ??? Societal Information Indigenous Species: Savarians, Humans Immigrated Species: -- Primary Language(s): Basic Faction Affiliation: Neutral Defense Rating: One Description: Savareen was a planet that was located at one spur of the Kessel Run, in the galaxy's Outer Rim Territories. The planet consisted of sandy landmasses and huge oceans. Savareen was also known for its famous brandy drink. The Crimson Dawn once had a business there and they chopped off the tongues of the natives.

The powerful Anzati amassed under the power of their chosen one, Telperien now combed through her supernatural homeworld of Dathomir, and now this auspicious lady of the wild conspired to rein in the people and culture of Cathar. The seeds of expansion began to find their roots, sown farther and farther with the ripening of the Sith. The even temper of the Spider measured what patience would be required to defeat the promise of the mortal enemies that had once held the upper hand, his drapery of webs weaved deeply into the galaxy to break this hold. "You have my leave, Cathar. The resources for your endeavors must be appraised by Lady Sensara, take what is necessary. You speak of prosperity, and a sanctum of steel and rage.. You work now with the imprint of my Empire, do not humiliate me." Exodus hauled the burden of his people across the breadth of both shoulders, immovable against the pressures of their adversaries. His rule was undeniable, not one of two, but a rule of the strongest. When one of his own hinted their brilliance in these trying times, it was wisest to either fan those flames or smother them altogether. For now, he would watch for the intentions that this Cathar held closest to her heart, and weigh their worth against the rise of the Sith Empire.

The silken wire-drawn wealth mantled around such a powerful physique, shaped the appearance of an outlandish behemoth of a man weathered in the finest of luxuries. He was not of imperial decor like most would presume, this Sith was more akin to barbaric earldom, a barbarous conqueror embellished in the skins and leathers of his kills. As he leaned forward and rose from the harsh comfort of the stone throne, his ravenous locks of hair parted ways and revealed more of his evanescent face. The King of the Wicked held a darker skin tone that was most fair, and to all appearances, unsullied by the taint of time and the dark side all the same. Impassivity was painted across his headmost features, a frozen detachment in his eyes that was coined to the name of the Spider, deliberately in defiance of the toll that his unrivaled power would soon take. Stiff buckskin sewn into the leather of his boots pressed into the open floor quietly, unnaturally quiet as he moved towards the Cathar while her wild maw opened and closed with tale. Not a sound from him nor his dark raiment as he approached, her prudent words finding themselves a solid echo inside of his walls. Her fear was quite surreal, he could taste the sour of it clearly from the crown of his mouth. Fresh currents of the emotion proved imperceptible but spilled nonetheless from her small form as fuel for the two to feast on. The Dark Lord of the Sith drew nearer, and so, the dread stirred feverishly alive by the step. Exodus could feel an immediate discrepancy between this child of the Sith, and most of the others he had come to know; the ignorant masquerade of fearlessness that the others wore, stifled their fear from flourishing in the face of the Dark Lord, such was not a skin that this Cathar chose to wear. She was unabashedly her, this creature that spoke of victory so fluently, poetic in how she navigated her experience and tallied each of her encounters. "..In hindsight, perhaps it was the Masters that could not keep you." His train of thought was rationed between his own mind, and that of the Cathar. She would be able to hear the words by means of Anzati telepathy, she would feel exactly what he meant, only because he willed it so. "It was not Lady Keenava alone that had underestimated you, yet it would be the Twi'lek alone to pay the ultimate price." Exodus moved within feet of her now, stalking her in paces as he watched her closely. The warhorses of the Sith were failing in number, and efficiency. The educators of power, the higher echelon of the Sith were falling to the wayside as each day passed them by. The Cathar did not err in her assessment, but she would do well to understand that each of the masters misjudged her worth and birthed the monster that she now spoke of. This Sith Empire required more of what she had become, and even more of what was to come, for the failings of the old guard would have to be rectified. Closer now, Exodus drew for his blade Zveris with his mind, the ceremonial metal drawing from sheath without the need for his physical clutch on the handle. Passing the veil of his dark cloak, and slipping into the light of the neighboring flames, the brilliant craftsmanship of the Ancient Sith Warblade manifested before the young Cathar. It was in this draw, that the Allfather of Assassins caught wind of a familiar scent. "Your journey, has little to do with the nuances of who or what imparts their experiences onto you. Their staying, or going is what you the hunter makes of it. You, are of the wild, as I am. Be reminded of what is was like to walk bare-foot in the most uncivilized of places. Heed the kind of unruly creature it would take to survive, and for no other reason than to witness the freedom of the trees and the meadows, vast rivers and the sweeping forests, the sharp blades of grass and the spilled blood that spoiled them between your toes. The memories are both persuasive and fundamentally powerful to these kinds of Sith. You are of this breed, free from conformity, and free from the fragile. It was to me, as it is to you, to feel this way as a creature of the wild. With your triumph, young Cathar, you have seized the title of another as your own. Henceforth, you will be known across my Empire as Darth Nyrys, Sith Lord and Lady of the Wild." The sacramental blade brushed against her, christening her new prestige.

And then the entire audience fell eerily silent. Hours of deliberation cooled when the passages of the council hall peeled opened, and a stranger was introduced. The shadows that decorated the recesses of the auditorium shifted in position, and the audience as a whole turned to the Emperor for instruction. “..Leave us.”The articulation of his sinister voice came out spent, far-reaching and drummed out powerfully from his seated position, but worn out from the tedious endeavors that came with the throne that he was nested on. The Temple Wardens spotted all around the hall, slammed the pommel of their glaives into the floor synchronously, demanding immediate reaction to the command of the Dark Lord. The entire audience shifted, and feet began to shuffle more swiftly. Members of the Covenant were slowest to disperse, as they watched the others in attendance more diligently. The Cathar remained doubled over in reverence, while some of the most powerful and influential individuals to ever sweep this side of the galaxy, passed her by. When the last two were all that was left, and the heavy doors slammed shut, the flickering of flames lit on the wicks of the torches roared silently. “Stand up, young Zirtani." Exodus leaned forward from the throne, hoping that this one at least lifted the dreariness that the administrations laid before him. The thrill of the hunt was what provoked him and provided him fulfillment, but the regime of the Sith would have suffered from extinction without his guiding hand, so these practices were necessary. "Illustrate for me, how it felt, the killing of Lady Keenava." Lord Exodus smiled, the shimmer of brilliant emerald inside of his villainous glare locked onto the Cathar, scrutinizing the flower of red that spawned from hers. There was no time to waste on pleasantries, and these two species were predators of the highest nature.

The Guilty Throne _________________________________________________________________________ Council Hall, The Glass Spire Iziz City Grand majestic braziers, sculpted from the likeness of what appeared as mythological serpents of unmatched size, half encircled each of the six marble columns that lit the entire throne hall, and poured a showering warmth across the floor-bed. Large mirrors on the high fragmented ceiling, masquerade in the flickering light while haunting gargoyles carved from the black of stone, look down upon the slate floor of the most polished hall. A vermilion rug ran from the throne down through the center and split into two footpaths, leading outwards while pennant banners with golden embroidery covered parts of the walls. Between each banner hung a traditional lantern, none but a few have been lit and in turn illuminate the mosaics of powerful misshapen creatures below them. Overwhelming stained glass windows depicting many etchings of High Sith are concealed by drapes, colored the same vermilion as the banners. A noble throne of onyx sits atop a small rise overlooking the throne hall, and the proximity of a mammoth holo-projecter, adjoined by many other practical seats for those aiding the Sith Emperor in all affairs. The throne itself is covered in runic designs and fixed on each of the bedrock legs is an encrusted crest of the Spider. If further audience was to be expected, stone benches filled the outskirts of the gathering room as well, all of which face the throne in a half circle. With a fleet of Sith warships retiring from hyperspace, myriads of other smaller ships came to a sudden halt alongside the rest. The journey had been a long one, and the time for rest and recovery would be dire. Emperor Exodus surmised the arrival of his fleet to coincide with the appearance of his Covenant in full, and the timing could not have been better. While most of the Forces deployed towards Kuat to sink the resistances of the turncoats, well positioned scouts elsewhere had reported back with intriguing developments to be heard from all across Sith-controlled space. Information packets would be rallied within the planetary defensive outfit, and would soon fall through the webs and into the ears of the Spider, most of which already had. The Glass Spire crawled with fresh blood, the lower levels now teeming with an influx of administration. Yet, the halls were sacred, quiet and proofed from the pandemonium of triumph. Earlier than the rest was the Dark King himself, Lord Exodus, regally cloaked in robes of obsidian, leisurely moved towards his throne with the intimidating sway of a conqueror. In his follow were armed escorts, politicians, military officials, religious leaders and higher echelons of Sith convening in the Council Hall. Many House delegations were present, and most of those that would arrive comprised an unrealized council to advise the King of the Sith on all subject matter. Those that were enveloped in other matters, those that remained under operation in the corners of the galaxy could still be reached, and would find themselves exhibited in full on the massive round-tabled holoprojector. It was time, and the future of the Sith Empire was at hand. This dark tribunal was nothing short of ravishing, highly embellished with artistry from High Sith of ancient time, and with a stone architecture carnally washed in the power of the dark side. Temple Wardens lined these halls dutifully at every impasse, and brandished an exquisite glaive that was seemingly ethereal in design, helping to ferry the subjects and foreign dignitaries of the Emperor-King. While Exodus took his seat, several Wardens surrounded the throne, while four individuals cloaked in the coat of the Immortal Coven stood on either side of the Spider. The Emperor King canvassed the audience with impatient deliberation. • • • ".. Much of the native landscape will soon be colonized by a plethora of requisite industrial facilities. Modern fields of technologies are being developed and enhanced to further our dominance over the natural world, and to assist in this inescapable path of evolution. With increased risk of predaceous threats from neighboring habitats, the majority workforce often carries out its duties from the confines of protective structures, limiting their readiness for war. The common Onderonian sentient has been biologically flawed to a degree, neglecting their physical prowess in order to shelter behind these walls they have erected, ignorantly bearing witness to their own fall from the food chain. We have the means and the research to course correct, to beautifully engineer their growth, as we have done on the Umbarans. Each pressing year, the civilizations here have closely resembled that of a people dying to their very own planet. You have changed that, my Lord, but I also advise that we now look outward." The shape of an old man spoke passionately, hunched over in the darkest of robes, with eyes as blue as the waters of Maanan and long silver hair that fell graciously from his hood. The curious voice belonged to Ezro Tinker, none other than the Sentinel of Creation, an Anzanti kinsman to the Sith Emperor himself. The Sith King was silent, his brilliant eyes thinning as he considered the offering before him. His adviser kept a stone-face as well, extraordinary colors lining the facial contours of the mysterious Voss at his side. The two of them understood a plan that would supersede the need for resources here amidst the domestic front, but neither man willing to spread such news in open court. Instead, Exodus nodded his sanctioning of the idea, understanding the very depth of what the Sentinel had to say and leaving it at that. "The mockery that was the old guard has only just perished. They are too ashamed to show their faces now, and so, we must replenish our strength with fresh blood before we are to hunt." It was true, those that had claimed themselves as worthy, were nowhere to be found when the order crumbled before the weight of their collective enemies. Ezro knew this well, returning to his seat with a hint of shame, knowing he took part in the abstinence all the same. A tall near-human, plated in heavy black armor, stood up from the stonebench where he sat. "Lord Wulfrid, you have news?" King Exodus leaned on the edge of the dark stone, surveying the men and women before him. His words called to the Augur of Protection within his unwavering coven, an Anzat Warrior almost unrivaled in build and strength. The rest of the congregation did not move, budge, or make but a whisper. "Lady Ootunavi has fallen, my King. The Lotus have terminated their trace of the creature, for she remains no more." Wulfrid searched the face of his superior, perhaps to find a measure of emotion or reaction to the news of the former apprentice. In the time he has known the Spider, and the even greater time spent with others within the covenant, he already knew better than to search for something that simply did not exist. "A studied apprentice by the name of Ailbasí Zirtani, a Cathar as they tell it, was the one to take her life. She was last seen with the Blood Prince on Korriban." "Brother Furion uncoupled her mind in more ways than she could ever understand. Perhaps death has freed her." Liaje Mekra, Elder of Death, couldn't help but flash a feverish grin as Exodus spoke the words. There were others that took the moment to look towards the fair Lady, mysteriously leaning aside one of the few staunch pillars, assuming that her hand literally played itself in all affairs concerning the demise of man. "This Cathar, I will have words with it." Just as the words left his mouth, the round table came alive with composite recreations of several individuals not particularly known to the Dark King. "..My King, there are others that have taken rise where our veterans have fallen, allow me to show the room—"

[Awaken, Telperiën.] Lives without a body, hears without ears, speaks without a mouth, to which the air alone gives birth. His voice, a profound echo of the surreal. A kindling flame behind his impeccable diction, surely tantalizing to the naked ear. Yes, it was unmistakable that his indomitable presence could thieve the natural senses from man and woman, leaving them surprised by the environment that had surrounded them all along. And so here, amidst the trees and the dirt and the persistent calls of the wild, all was still before the Dark Lord. Lackluster leaves broke their watch as they surrendered to the stifling winds, falling in decoration around the pair of near-humans. Yet and still, the world hushed itself before the might of the dark side, the twin harnessing of vivacious emotion that the two embodied throughout their lifetimes. With their eyes closed, yielding their senses to the unpredictability of the dark, Exodus continued his teachings in the native tongue of his people. With the incarnation of his Anzati ancestry having never seen the light of day before the common Sith, this language would be foreign to most, but his words repeated telepathically in a language standard she would understand. "Vrátiť sa domov, Return home, Bolesť je obetou, ktorá nás vyvíja Pain is an offering that evolves us a energicky sa naleje do našich prázdnych miest and vigorously pours into our empty places časti z nás, ktoré sme nikdy nevedeli, existovali parts of us we never knew existed úzkosť môže rodenie pravý účel anguish can birth truer purpose len so zloženou úctou only with a composed reverence rozjímanie meditácie a channeling meditation bez ohľadu na jazvu no matter the scar kľúč the key je ticho pred búrkou is stillness before the storm osamelosť, strach, hnev, pýchu a lásku loneliness, fear, anger, pride and love tancujú nad tvojím ohňom they dance above your fire taunting sú to vaše palivo they are your fuel žiadna ilúzia, žiadna dualita no illusion, no duality dokonca aj v tomto zdanlivom svete separácie even in this seeming world of separation uvedomte si, že ste teraz doma realize that you are home now a že ste nikdy neopustili and that you never left" The Dathomiri child full of promise, and hollow where purpose was found, would be no more. The misfortunes of her people, of her kin and herself would be confronted anew. The stench of a wild animal whose sole purpose was to shed skin and live from meal to meal would need to die here and now. Exodus could feel the embryonic potency buried deep inside her broken shell, desperate for the one who would inflame her dormancy. Her perspective was askew, and her mind left to wander recklessly. With proper focus and command, Telperiën could become an iconic pillar of the Sith, a daunting firestorm of the worst kind. She would need to walk before she dare run, or risk the fall from power that most fools suffered beneath the whip of the dark side. "...Dathomir calls for you. Your trials await you when you return." The message was clear, and would wait until the conclusion of her meditation, but the moment her eyes opened up— She would be born again, and Lord Exodus would be nowhere in sight.

The war machines of the Sith Armada found themselves retrofitted exhaustively after their expensive visit to Kuat, replenished as much as possible on the dreary count of the sand world Korriban. Not much was to be expected here, save for the disburdening of a great many slaves to crop up experimentation and labor on this world. For a time, the crews of the enormous gathering traded in story and drink, and the spoils of their wars before it was time to bid the stopover adieu. The posture of the Black Sun vessels would remain to secure passage for their Prince, but the remaining Sith Armada would return home to settle themselves on their homeworld of Ondeorn. All remaining Sith vessels leave for Onderon