Jump to content


Tarrian Skywalker

Recommended Posts

Calypso stared down at Ziost from the bridge of Darth Akheron's ship. What they had said during the trip had been true. Ziost had been destroyed. But what she had felt...it had also been true.


Ziost had returned. It had been remade, a living wound in the Force. A casual onlooker might have called it a place of death.


But this wasn't death. Death was natural. Death was of the light. This was a place of slaughter. Destruction. Madness.




Calypso smiled.


This was the place.




Dust billowed into the air as the shuttle landed. Slowly, as if hesitant, the ramp lowered. As Calypso descended from the ship, her eyes scanned the horizon. She had chosen this place specifically. The volcanic activity had receded here, leaving behind a desolate, igneous wasteland in its wake. The raw, destructive power of the planet's rebirth was here, frozen in the stone on full display. Crevices and rivulets ran across brown and black rock. Fissures belched steam and sulfur into the air. Above, sooty black and yellow clouds swirled and wove like fat worms, promising acidic rain.


She only hesitated for a second. Than her foot, the first, stepped onto the dark world. She breathed in the air, tasting the faint foulness left behind by the volcanic gases.


Around her, other shuttles landed. The bays opened, and the corpses of Inmortos' gifted army shambled out. Their dead faces turned to the sky, as if tasting the air. Calypso gave a faint smile. It wasn't something in the air they sensed. It was this place. This was place, that was as monstrous as them. A place as twisted, and as dark.


She gestured with her hand, and the undead fanned out to form a perimeter. She had no need of them right now.


"My lady?" crackled her comm.


Grimacing at the distraction, she lifted it to her face.


"Yes?" she responded, only a little testy.


"The ship will remain in orbit unless you need us. Is there-"


"No. Just alert me of any new arrivals."


"New arri-" She cut off the comm before he finished. She had work to do.


She stepped away from the shuttle, her eyes closed as she took in the presence of the place. This planet...a great, dark work had been done here. It was perfect. So many assumed that destruction was the only aspect to the Sith and their power. Like they were some dark reflection of the Jedi and their preservation. But that wasn't true, and this place was the proof.


The Sith weren't a dark reflection of the Jedi. They weren't their shadow, or their enemy, or even their equal. The Sith were the Jedi made complete. Destruction. Creation. Evolution. Truth. The Sith, and the Dark Side, were all things. The Jedi were just the fools who couldn't bring themselves to admit it. And this planet...this planet would be the anvil the Sith were forged anew on.


She sat down, cross-legged on the warm, dusty stone. Her eyes stayed closed, and her head sank forward. Around her, the ground began to quiver. Then it broke. In huge, jagged pieces, each the size of a combat walker, the rocks lifted away from the planet's surface, and slowly began to set themselves in a line before Calypso. Slowly, a crude wall of massive, black stones began to form in front of her, while the dead army and the reborn planet watched in silence.


It was a start. The full temple complex would of course be much, much larger than this single structure she was building.


But it was a start.

  • Like 2
Link to comment
Share on other sites

  • 1 month later...

1 day later:


With a faint grind, the last block settled into place.


Calypso opened her eyes. Around her, the volcanic landscape had been transformed white by snow. She didn't know when the snow had started, or when the chill had replaced the heat of the planet's molten rebirth, but now fat, wet flakes drifted down to settle on the flat landscape, and blanketed her construction.


Before her was a pyramid. A simple, solid structure, it was composed of the great, rough hewn cubes of rock she'd pulled from the earth and set into place with her power, like the creation a child might make with toy blocks. Each black stone cube bore a thick coat of snow at its top, but the snow didnt hide the structure's immensity. It towered over her, blotting out the glare of the rising sun.


She felt hollowed out, scraped clean. Even she had limits, and the focus, precision, and grueling nature of the construction had taxed her mind and willpower to their ragged edges. It wasn't simply the power to tear the blocks free and set them into place. It was the control the exercise demanded, the sheer will necessary to restrain that same strength. You had to make each block identical to its mates, or risk the entire building tilting, sagging, and collapsing. Each had to be set precisely into place, or risk forcing yourself to undo your work to make adjustments when the error was discovered later. It was a trial that proved the difference between wielding power, and mastering it.


In a way though, Calypso was pleased at her exhaustion. To find her limits was to find her center. She never knew herself more thoroughly then when she was at the edge, looking back. Stranded as she was in this new era, she needed that surity. 


"Now...for the hard part."


She approached her crude pyramid. Her body ached at the motions, muscles complaining as they stretched for the first time since she'd begun. Her legs and arms were leaden from lack of sleep. Her stomach gnawed at her, empty since yesterday.


Her stomach was the easiest to ignore. Hunger was nothing, when you were familiar with starvation.


Each stone block was approximately 25 feet tall to a side. The first level of the pyramid towered over her. But while the blocks were as precise as she could make them, they were not smooth. Each side was pocked, coarse, and threaded with crevices where it had broken away from the surrounding stone. She reached up and swept her hands across the rough surface until she found a protrusion just wide enough to firmly grip.


Then she began to climb.




Hours passed. Her already tired body protested every motion, every exhausting pull to raise her body another foot. With agonizing slowness, she conquered the first level of the pyramid, hoisting herself up onto the snow covered ledge that marked the boundary between the first and second layers. She didnt slow, but began the next leg of the climb. This was slower still, as both her exhaustion and her near numb, wet fingers struggled to cling to the rough exterior of the pyramid. She fell partway up, her fingers slipping from a shallow crevice and letting gravity have its say. Back at the ledge, she lay, her wind knocked out of her, her back awash in pain. The pain flowed through her, matching her burst of frustration, and some of her power reinvigorated itself.


Temptation slithered through the back of her mind.


Use your power.


She denied it. She did not stop the pain or tamp down her frustration, but neither did she let it invigorate her. She knew that if she chose, she could use the Force to leap up the side of the pyramid, skipping from level to level, and be at the summit in moments. But getting to the top wasn't the point, not on its own. 


Unconciousness took her for a while then, though she didn't know how long. When she woke, recovered if not revitalized, she tore the ragged remains of the hem of her dress into rags, wrapped them around her hands, and began the climb again.


The sun set again by the time she reached the fourth level.


She'd collapsed from exhaustion twice more by the time she reached the eighth.


Unconsciousness hovered at the edge of every thought, threatening to swallow her. Cold ate at her, whatever supernatural endurance Force users subconsciously drew on barely keeping her from freezing in the chill wind that rose and swelled sometime around the fifth level. Hunger itself had passed from pangs to gnawing, and from gnawing to all consuming. She'd allowed herself a brief smile at the return of her old friend.


But she kept climbing.


The blizzard came near the end. It swept down and smothered the pyramid in a white out. The wind tore and ripped at Calypso, each gust threatening to tear her from her precarious perch and send her plummeting to her death.


Death. It circled her now. She could feel it, like a blind man feeling the emptiness over the edge of a cliff.


It wanted her, wanted to take her, wanted to punish the arrogance of this puny creature that thought to stand against the turning of the galaxy. She was so small, so fragile, so insignificant. Even with all her power, she was nothing.


But she knew a lie when she heard it.


She was not just a human. She was not just a Force user.


She was a creature of the Dark Side of the Force, something infinitely greater than death. The Dark Side was truth. When all the pretenses, ideals, and lies of life were stripped away, the Dark Side remained. Passion. Strength. Power. Victory. That was Truth. And what was a little thing like death in the face of Truth?


She was the master and vessel of the Dark Side. Indeed, there had never been a difference between the two.


It surprised her when she crested the final level. In the howling wind of the blizzard, what should have been a magnificent view was hidden behind the rage of the planet venting itself through the storm.


Calypso collapsed into the snow-covered summit. Her breath came shallow, and darkness crept at the edges of her eyes, but one thing buoyed her and kept her awake.


She had won. She had victory.


She opened herself to the Dark Side. Her own strength was gone, but the Force was everywhere, and here on this world the Darkness swelled and boiled with fresh power.


It tore through her, eagerly answering her call and surrender to it. Her head jerked back, her face frozen in the silent rictus of a scream. A coldness deeper than the blizzard writhed through her, cutting and slicing as it looked for any imperfection, any flaw, any weakness.


It found none.


Like a channel ground smooth and scoured clean, the Dark Side found nothing to hinder its flow. Calypso's climb had broken her down and swept away everything but what she'd needed to survive. Right at that moment, she wasn't human. She wasn't even an animal. She was will, and she was strength.


The tide of power went deeper. It plunged into the depths of her soul, past the veneer of her conscious mind. And what it found there pleased it.


Hatred. At Calypso's core was a bottomless well of hatred. It had once had purpose and direction. The hatred of a girl suffering for no good reason, while others lived happy, content lives. The hatred of an orphan listening to the hypocrisy of the "charitable" who couldn't bring themselves to reach down and help her up. The hatred of a woman, strong from her ordeals, condemned by the weak, stupid, and ignorant. But now? The hate was everything. It had no form, no direction, no purpose. Only channels that it could flow through. A vision of the galaxy ablaze and crumbling flashed through Calypso's mind, and she smiled, joy and hatred intertwining in perverse union.


Her will bore down on the power flowing through her as it suckled and swelled at the bottomless pool of her hatred, and she twisted it into the shape she needed.


She raised her hand, and released her message to the universe.

Edited by Darth Calypso
  • Like 2
Link to comment
Share on other sites

  • 1 month later...

Calypso sat in a small, bare circle of stone. All around, snow drifted down as the blizzard spent the last of its strength. And yet, nothing touched her or the circle of stone, her invisible will repelling the tumbling flakes like a barrier. Despite the freezing temperatures, the Sith lady looked almost comfortable in her tattered and torn black rags. Her hands were a crosshatch of pink and red scrapes, her knees were scabbed a rusty brown, and her feet were bare to the elements after her shoes had fallen apart in her climb up the pyramid. Yet, she sat as poised and at ease as a diplomat in the Senate lobby.


The pyramid itself stood behind her, a titanic construction of rough stone blocks coated in a thick blanket of snow. Her tracks up the side had long been covered.


On 9/7/2022 at 3:36 PM, Atrid Torsen said:

"Hello I'm Fiochmar apprentice to Darth Mavanger, I was Wondering m'Lady if you'd seen or heard from him? I haven't had contact with him since....The battle." Fioch whispers the last part as softly as he can.


Calypso looked up, yellow eyes fixing on the young Tsis. She smiled, a predatory gleam flickering across her eyes. 


"I'm afraid you may have come to the wrong person. I'm a bit out of date.


But...you heard me. You are the first. You are certainly not the last. If you like, you are welcome to stay."


She gestured at the bare ground beside her.


"Or, if you prefer, you are welcome to learn." Her smile widened. "I hate to see potential stagnate."

  • Like 2
Link to comment
Share on other sites

  • 2 weeks later...
On 9/17/2022 at 2:38 PM, Atrid Torsen said:

"I do not sense my Master, Mistress. But I do not wish to remain stagnant and in on place without moving or growing. May I pledge myself to you and your teachings?" Fiochmar asks moving closer to the Dark Lady bending knee before her with his head bowed.



Calypso was silent for a moment, then she stood.


"As you wish, Fiochmar." She turned, and started walking, not towards the pyramid or Fiochmar's ship, but out into the trackless wilderness. "Follow. There's something I need to show you."


As she began to move off, the wind hissing and whistling past the pair, she continued with a conversational tone. "We'll start with the key fundamentals then, evaluate, and work our way out from there. Strength is born from passion, this is the first lesson of any Sith. So tell me Fiochmar...what is your passion?" She turned to look at him. "What is it the source of your strength?"

  • Like 3
Link to comment
Share on other sites

  • 1 month later...
On 10/29/2022 at 3:15 PM, Atrid Torsen said:

Darth Calypso's question takes him by surprise, whatever he was expecting from her for training this certainly wasn't on the list. Was it a trick, a test? Best to answer honestly she may be able to tell if I'm lying he things to himself. "My passion Lady Calypso is to bring glory, and honor back to my people. The people who gave name to this order, to bring us back to our former power and strength. To honor and be worthy of my ancestors! And above all my passion is for power and strength to be the strongest to be the best, and so I must first learn from them!"


She arched an eyebrow before turning away, facing back out into the wastes they were walking deeper into.


"You speak with conviction. That is commendable, else I would have no use for you. That would be a waste" Her tone, while light, betrayed a cold, callous quality. "Your words are those of a servant. You talk about honor, about the past glories, and about being worthy to bear your ancestors' legacy. You humble yourself before corpses, Fiochmar." She held up a hand to forestall any response. "I'm not criticizing you." She still did not look back.


"Passion must begin somewhere. When I first began, I dreamt of bringing justice to those who denied it and to those who deserved it, like a child would. That passion empowered me, and drove me to the very edge of my limits." She shook her head, a flicker of amusement crawling into her voice, before becoming serious again. "But time, suffering, and power all conspired to strip away those lies, no matter how gratifying I found them. And as that chain broke, my limits did as well. If you pursue this path Apprentice, you will find yourself changed as well. Your humility will snap like a rusted chain under the weight of your growing power. If you truly wish to take my place one day, and claim title of strongest, then your legacy will need to outstrip that of your ancestors'." Now she did turn to look back at the Sith apprentice. "You are a god ascending Fiochmar, never forget that. If you wish to stand above all others, then you will need to cast all others beneath your feet, even those who helped you rise in the first place." The pale lady in the tattered dress smiled then. "Just remember to respect me to my face until you are ready to kill me. Or I may find you to be a waste yet."


"Ah, we are here."


Here was just more wasteland. Nothing stood out to distinguish it. They could not have gone far from the pyramid in the short time they walked, but the structure they had come from was now completely obscured by the blowing snow that surrounded them.


"We have discussed your passion then. Next is your strength. As it appears we still have some time before the main test, we can do this properly." She made a small gesture, and the ground shook as a crude pillar of stone rose out of the ground 4 meters away, called up by Calypso's power. The rock cracked and shrieked in protest as it scraped its way free, but it came up all the same. When it was almost of a height with Calypso's waist, it stopped. She walked over to it, lifted herself up, and sat down on top of it.


She held up a hand, palm down, fingers splayed and pointed towards Fiochmar.


"Do you have the strength to touch my hand apprentice?"


Without another warning, lightning lanced out of her outstretched hand. It was not a quick burst, but a constant stream made possible by Calypso's seemingly infinite wellspring of power. It was not powerful enough to kill though. Well, at least not right away. The pain however would be absolutely exquisite, and the muscle spasms would not do the Tsis any favors in his task.

  • Like 3
Link to comment
Share on other sites

On 11/2/2022 at 2:01 PM, Atrid Torsen said:

Finally he takes another deep breath and his muscles spasming from the intensity of the lightning his breathing labored but, Fioch does grab Calypso's hand. Though how long he can hold on is anyone's guess.


The lightning stopped as Calypso closed her hand. Her yellow eyes bore into the Tsis in front of her, considering him as a cat considered a beetle. Then she stood.


"You have strength Fiochmar." She dropped from the low pillar, standing in the gathering snow. "Pride as well. Be careful of that. Still, excellent job."


She turned, and stared off into the whirling snow. Her eyes narrowed, as if she had spotted something in the curtain of white.


Without looking away, she continued speaking. "Passion. Strength. We are nearly ready for your final test. I suspect you've already guessed that it will be one of power, and you'd be right. But not in the way you might think." She broke her gaze away from whatever in the blowing snow had caught her attention, and looked back to Fiochmar. "The true measure of a Sith is not power. I can understand why you might think otherwise, but I'll explain." She gestured with a hand, and the pillar she'd been sitting on began to rise once more. After a moment, it broke free from the ground with a resounding crack, and hovered in the air. It was almost of a height with Calypso, and just as wide, a solid piece of stone. "A Sith is not mere tricks. Their greatness doesn't come from how skilled they are with a lightsaber, or what spells they know, or the armies and fleets assembled under their command." She flicked her finger, and the levitating pillar began a slow orbit around the pair of Sith. "When I fought and killed my master, he was more skilled than me. Truth be told, it was not even close. He had greater command of the Force, and his skills with a lightsaber far eclipsed mine. And yet I was the one who walked away alive. How?" She gestured with her hand again, and the pillar stopped its slow trek around the pair, hovering once more in the air, this time in the direction Calypso had been looking earlier. "The true measure of a Sith, Fiochmar, is not our power. It is our potential." She emphasized the word, giving it more weight than anything she'd said up till now. "The Code of the Sith is a simple concept in the end. It's nothing more than a formula. And yet it has terrified the galaxy for thousands of years, because it proves a truth that the Jedi, the Republic, the Alliance, and all the others like them don't want to believe.


The truth that we, the Sith, have no limits.


Through passion, strength. Through strength, power. Through power, victory. And through victory, freedom. From this simple mantra, we find infinite potential. There is no rival we cannot surpass, no height we cannot reach, and no obstacle we cannot overcome. The only thing that can hold us back are ourselves, and the lies we choose to believe. You want to know how I beat my master? He was a coward who was content with the power he had already attained. I defeated him because I grew to surpass him during the fight itself. A true Sith is one with the ability to seize their potential and grow. So, that will be your test."

She gestured with her hand again, and the stone pillar shot out into the swirling snow. Then, a dull thud was heard, barely audible above the hissing wind.


It was followed a moment later by a roar, guttural and full of rage.


A soft thump...thump...thump, could barely be heard, but steadily grew louder.


"If you think your current skills are enough to pass this test, I'm afraid you may not survive it." She smiled, a wicked glint in her eyes. "Seize your potential Fiochmar, and you will prove yourself worthy." She turned away, and began walking back towards the pyramid, leaving her would-be apprentice behind. "Find me if you don't die."


As she disappeared behind a fresh gust of snow, a dark, looming shape emerged from the direction of the roar.


The side of the terentatek's head was bleeding slightly, where the stone pillar had struck it as it wandered through the snow. Now its rage was well and truly up, and its beady eyes landed on Fiochmar.


With a screeching howl, the monster charged.

  • Like 1
Link to comment
Share on other sites

  • 2 weeks later...
On 11/8/2022 at 10:46 PM, Atrid Torsen said:

"I will not fail you my new Mistress, I will not fail myself!"  Fiochmar growls charging in concentrating using all his skill and knowledge to use the force to increase his speed and strength to give him power to take down this mighty foe. Remembering an earlier lesson from his former master he chose not to leap at the Terentatek. But rather he would slide underneath and between it's legs lashing out with the vibrosword and vibroaxe at it's ankles.


Once through and making those slashes at the beast he'll leap into the air and try to climb the beasts back. As he starts his climb he starts reaching out with the force in an attempt to force the beast to submit. To force it to recognize Fioch as the alpha male and apex hunter here. If his attempts fail than he still has his blades. Fioch is straining as hard as he can sweating even with the effort yes he was stretching out further than ever before. Pushing passed the limits he'd known he had and the Tsis was pushing further for more.

As Fiochmar passed beneath the creature, it swung its venomous tusks towards him, inches away from goring the Tsis. However, it missed as Fiochmar succeeded in his maneuver, vibroweapons biting into the creatures legs. Long cuts welled dark blood from its trunk-like legs, and the beast roared in pain now. However, the cuts were shallower than might be expected, and it wasn't hamstrung or crippled. Its hide was comparable to that of a rancor, and wouldn't cut easily. But it did distract it long enough for Fiochmar to climb on its back, weaving between its spines.


The terentatek halted as Fiochmar reached out and through his mind against its own. Its head shook back and forth, jaws snapping at the air as the power of the Force buffeted its thoughts and sought to overwhelm its aggression. For a moment, it seemed as if the creature might back down. In truth, it was an adolescent of its species, and not yet full size or as ferocious as its adult counterpart that had earned the nickname of "The Jedi Killer"


However, even young the creature would not be cowed so simply. A terentatek's corrupted hide and Dark Side infused mind were almost immune to the direct effects of the Force. Fiochmar's efforts, though fierce, found no solid purchase on the warped, unnatural beast. They did accomplish one thing however. Like a hound catching a scent, the terentatek sensed the power emanating from Fiochmar. The power of a Force-sensitive, its preferred prey. Where the beast had been enraged before, now that anger mixed with the instinctual need to kill and devour.


With another ear splitting scream, the beast displayed its own brutal cunning and fell backward, rolling on the snowy ground, trying to crush its potential meal beneath its bulk or skewer it with its spines.


On 11/10/2022 at 12:34 AM, Solus said:

“Ah! Lady Calypso!” Solus shouted when he noticed the Sith Lord. Ignoring the fight, he made a dash forward, eager to see someone again who wasn’t trying to kill him. 


“Lady Calypso! It is so good to see you again!” Solus greeted the woman. “I must say, is that your temple? It radiates your…essence.”


Solus bowed slightly at the hip before the woman. “Surely you remember me, Solus the Ascended? The Abomination in your own words?”


Calypso looked at the thing that approached her. Its outer form was one she recognized from Coruscant, but in the sight of the Force it had changed. Its power still radiated outwards, but strands of something else clung to it like...cobwebs?


She stopped walking. The ground for hundreds of feet vibrated almost imperceptibly as the Force shifted to her rising emotions like tides to a moon. It had been some time since something had presented such an alluring threat to her. This was not raw, simple power, but something far more insidious. It was new to her, and the place in her mind where instinct blended with the unknowable depths of the Dark Side told her that this clinging essence posed an actual danger. That alone kindled her excitement, and she was tempted to tear Solus apart piece-by-piece and see what would happen.


Hairline cracks radiated through the stone around her, hidden from view by the snow. A knot of whirling Force currents coiled around her as her instinct to fight was stirred. She wanted to see if this power could challenge her. She wanted to see if it could hurt her.


Then she exhaled, and let the emotions die. This was not the time.


"Yes," she finally replied, no hint of her brief contemplation of the shard's death in her tone. "I do remember. It would seem you have grown since I last saw you." She resumed walking. "So what are you now?" The innocent question hinted at a deeper meaning, but she added nothing else.



  • Like 2
Link to comment
Share on other sites

  • 2 weeks later...
On 11/14/2022 at 3:19 AM, Solus said:

Having pointed out the individual @Krath Inmortos, Solus faced Lady Calypso and bowed again. “I follow your steps for now my lady. Or do you need someone to keep track of your apprentice?” 


Calypso gestured dismissively. "Leave him. He will follow or he won't."


A memory touched her mind, slipping in through the cracks. Blood on the permacrete. Sweat and stink in her nose. Burning in her throat. That's right, she remembered why. She'd thrown up after killing the man. He hadn't been doing anything but sleeping next to a heat exhaust, wrapped up in blankets. But she'd been cold, and she'd found a pipe.


Her face didn't change as the memory played out.


"Struggle makes us strong. He will earn this victory. If he's smart, he'll learn something from it."


On 11/14/2022 at 2:48 PM, Karys Narat iv-Adas said:

Turning to Darth Calypso, the new Dark Lady, he spoke, issuing a bow of respect before he did.


 "I am at your disposal my Dark Queen, if you'll have me I will be your iron fist and bring your enemies to heel. My loyalty is to the Sith and our philosophy."


Calypso smiled, and her eyes glittered at some private joke. "We shall see, Darth Akheron. You may find yourself wishing to retract one of those statements before long." She turned her head to the sky, and stared through the blowing snow and into the currents of the Force itself. The twisting coils of darkness, aftershocks of the planet's rebirth, told her nothing. Right now, the future was uncertain. The Dark Side had a will, of that Calypso was sure. If her time delving and molding herself to be its vessel had taught her anything, it was that the Dark Side was as much master as servant. She understood why the Jedi felt such peace at the thought of giving in to that power, that plan, that will. They never realized their own contradictions. But right now, that dark will was clouded. It was waiting. Waiting to see what was about to happen. Its will would be done regardless, but by who? Calypso? Or someone else...


She breathed in, letting the cold air burn straight down to her lungs. It was almost time. Her hatred had waited for a thousand years for this chance. It would not wait much longer.


As her control slipped for that split second, her eyes flashed, and the air around her sparked blue-white with barely perceptible bolts of power.


No, she would not wait much longer.


And then the galaxy would scream.


On 11/16/2022 at 12:15 PM, Atrid Torsen said:

With  a sudden and overwhelming sense of self he uses his anger, his hatred, his pride and his desire to take down this beast to fuel his power and amplify his muscles and produce more adrenaline. Finding the weakest point he can Fioch thrusts his vibrosword forward and tries to find purchase in some of the Terentatek's hide all the while amping up his own threshold and pushing out with the force doing his best to make this beast fear him and cower before him, The beast will do his bidding.


"You will bow before me great and worthy warrior beast for of you do not I will kill you skin you, eat you and use you for you!"


Try as he might, the Terentatek's mind and hide were too resistant to direct application of the Force to be subject to domination. Now fully enraged, the power pressing against its mind only roused the monster's hunger even further. It was built to kill Force users. It was built to eat Force users. It would eat this one.


However, Fiochmar's vibrosword had better luck. With a sound like a handsaw tearing through old leather, the blade found just enough purchase in the armpit of the one of the creature's upraised arms. A gout of dark blood spattered across the snow before thickening into a miniature waterfall down its side.


Perhaps the creature understood its situation. Or perhaps it was just really karking mad. It screamed, louder than ever before. Then, with the ferocity of a cornered beast in its death throes, it threw itself at Fiochmar, talons sweeping through the snow, tusks swinging, teeth gnashing in a frenzy. There was no hesitation, no attempt at defense, just pure, hateful violence. It wanted Fiochmar dead, and it didn't care what cost it paid.

  • Like 3
Link to comment
Share on other sites

  • 2 weeks later...
On 11/23/2022 at 3:07 PM, Atrid Torsen said:

"Yer dead now Beasty, I woulda let ya live but you had to slice me open! NOW YOU'VE KRIFFIN MADE ME ANGRY!!" Fiochmar snarls and shouts charging the beast again using his skills as a hunter to assess rapidly and find the weakest points in the beast once done he leaps at the Terentatek thrusting the vibrosword forward with his vibrosword and swinging down with a hacking slash with the vibroaxe a wicked and malicious grin on his face. He can sense victory so close he can taste it and savoring every last little bit as he watches himself to see if his blades find purchase with the weak points.


The terentatek's arm came up and batted away the axe, its strength monstrous even as a juvenile. It trumpeted in victory, lunging foward.


Then it stopped short.


Blood filled its mouth. Its tiny eyes flared wide in confusion. It willed itself forward, willed itself to finish off its prey right in front of it, but its legs wouldn't move. Its arms dropped to its sides, limp. Blackness crept in at the edges of its vision, rage bleeding away like water through a sieve.


Fiochmar's sword had gone straight into the beast's mouth, and pierced its spine.


Its body collapsed nervelessly to the ground, its eyes staring up, a look of disbelief apparent in its brutal features.


Then it was dead.


On 11/26/2022 at 10:54 AM, Lord Ōk Rägnär said:

"I am Darth Dictum, Mi'Lady." He spoke in a coyful tone, his voice as dark as it was deep. With a stoop of his head, he bowed courteously. "I am the son of Darth Ragnar, grandson of Darth Fenrir." His tone shifted slightly, turning from coyful to cold. "Allow me to be your Harbinger."


It wasn't his words that held any weight. Nor was it his actions that spoke of his potential. But in his presence, behind the blood stained bandages that covered his lid less sockets that dripped blood down his cheeks and across his sly smirk, that his truth filled declaration rippled across the Force. If given the time and opportunity, newly within this Order he had came to lay within its bosom, he would become its harbinger, it's blackened blade amidst the Darkness' shadow, it's dagger of eternal night. He would become Death's Assassin.


Calypso's eyes narrowed as she took in the dark aura of the man. This man had given himself to the Dark Side, but there was more potential that might be drawn out.


She paused before answering. "...I'm afraid I'm not one for titles Darth Dictum. There is only one title I respect, and it is only earned, not given." She turned to fully face him. Her words were not harsh, but they were not kind either. "There will be no titles in the galaxy I create but what you carve for yourself. You have strength Dictum, but if you bind yourself to my will then you only cripple it. The end goal of all Sith is freedom, not service. If you are truly set upon being my greatest weapon, then I offer you the chance to prove worthy of it." She stopped for a moment as she considered. "Perhaps it will help you to kill me."

  • Like 3
Link to comment
Share on other sites

On 12/3/2022 at 1:10 AM, Atrid Torsen said:

"Mistress I took down the beastie!! Its fang and spine will make good additions to my light saber when I'm deemed worthy!" He smirks and takes a look around cheeks darkening as he does to see the crowd gathered to watch his conquest.


"Was it a good show!? Were you not entertained?!?! Were you not entertained??!!" The young Sith shouts to them all gauging their reactions.


Calypso smiled. It would seem she had an apprentice. Her first apprentice, and he was as hungry and passionate as she could ask for. She laid her hand on his shoulder, saying nothing, but letting her pleased expression show him her approval.


On 12/3/2022 at 7:54 PM, Lord Ōk Rägnär said:

"I understand. I merely requested the opportunity to do so. You have my thanks."


She turned to Dictum.


"...and you have my attention, Lord Dictum. I look forward to seeing what you will become." And she meant it.


Her eyes swept over the group that had begun to gather. Some had clustered together, while others spread out, some close and some far enough that they were nothing more than silhouettes against the white of the snow. The Force itself subtly shuddered and twisted. Many wills drew upon it, and the silent conflict of such strength quickened the Dark Side. Calypso imagined it as a beast, straining at the leash, yearning to turn this silent congregation into a chorus of passion and death. All these powerful individuals who had been drawn here, by her call or by fate, were now waiting.


It is enough, she thought.


She walked to the base of her crude pyramid, the cold wind and the rapidly diminishing snowfall whipping her torn clothes about her thin frame. Her mundane, vulnerable appearance contrasted with her calm and assured posture. Only the glow in her yellow eyes betrayed the anticipation that was growing inside of her. This was the moment. This was the start of everything.


When she reached the base of the pyramid, she leapt. With the Force buoying her up, she effortlessly cleared the 25 feet to the top of the lowest layer. From there, she pivoted to face the gathering figures in the snowy wasteland.


She raised her hands.


"SITH!" she called, her voice echoing through the air and through the Force both. All here would know what she had to say. "I have called you here! Your challenger stands before you!" She swept her gaze across the crowd, gray shapes in the cloudy twilight. "I am Darth Calypso. I was born from the depths of the Old Republic's decrepitude, over 1000 years ago. I have awoken again, and I emerge to see the Sith truly returned. In the time since the fool Kaan and his Brotherhood of Darkness, the Sith have clawed their way back to the blood and iron they were founded on." She paused. "...And yet, once again the Sith Empire...has fallen!" Her words echoed out across the landscape like the crack of thunder. "How many times has our order been beaten back? How many times have the weak, the ignorant, and the cowardly united to smother a truth they know they cannot hope to control? And yet we always return, as perpetual as the spinning of the galaxy!" The slate gray clouds above her began to spiral, centered over the pale woman in ragged clothes.


"So why have we failed again?"


She fell silent for a moment.


"...Because we have ignored what we are.


We are not generals or admirals. We are not kings, queens, or emperors. We are not politicians slinging words to fool the masses, or knights fighting loyally in the service of a lord.


We are gods! We ARE power! 


There will be no great conquest. There will be no empire. We will not unite the galaxy under our rule, as the Sith have attempted so many times before. We will SHATTER IT!"


As she shouted these last words, arms upraised, her passion escaped her control, and the ground vibrated almost imperceptibly.


"This new Alliance will fall before us. Always the Sith have come as a conquering army, but this time we will come as the monsters we truly are. We will not ape our enemies. We will not try to bring about peace under our rule. We will plunge the galaxy into fire and death! The time of republics, alliances, and empires will come crashing down! The lies of the Jedi will be torn away, and the truth that the Sith have always known will finally be made evident to all! Everyone, Sith or Jedi, soldier or civilian, weak or powerful, will finally understand that a being is only entitled to what it has the will to take and the strength to hold! When we are finished, the idea of a unified galaxy will be laughed at by the survivors digging through the ashes, and the hypocrisy of the Jedi will be seen for what it is.


It will be a new Age of the Sith.


And in this age...the strong will finally receive their due. They will carve out their realms by their own hand. They will defend what they have, while taking what they wish from those weaker than them. All beings, not just the Sith, will follow our Code! All will fight for victory and freedom, because there will be no other way!"


She gestured at the crowd. "Is this not what you want? Do you truly wish to serve under some distant ruler, content with what you've been given? Don't you want the opportunity to prove your worth to a galaxy that has denied you what you deserve?


I will give that chance to you. I will give that chance to everyone."


Then, Calypso lowered her arms, the animating passion of her speech dwindling.


"But these are only words. Sith are not ruled by words."


She took a breath.


"I declare myself Dark Lord of the Sith!"


The words rang out, echoing across the wasteland without softening, as if they had a life of their own.


And then Calypso stopped holding herself back.


The ground shook. A deep, grinding rumble drowned out every other sound as the stone trembled beneath the snow. With a deafening CRACK, a dozen crevices as wide as a man spiderwebbed out from under the block where Calypso stood. The air crackled with electricity. Wind that had nothing to do with the weather howled and screamed across the snow. The Force itself seemed to writhe and boil.


Calypso's power had never come from arcane rituals and ancient secrets. Her master had never afforded her that opportunity. No, she had spent her time perfecting herself as a channel for the Dark Side, refining what strength her master had thought safe to give his tool. She had studied Sith philosophy, and put herself through every trial and strife imaginable to purge any hesitation, weakness, or self-delusion from her.


What was left was the passion she drew on, and it was endless.


Her master had once called her a misanthrope. The clinical sounding word had never seemed to capture the reality of what the coruscanti street urchin had felt. Her hatred was a consuming, burning thing that ate away at her. It was something she'd learned to lock away until it was needed, but always hovering below the surface.


She hated the people of the galaxy. They were self-deluded idiots who spent their whole lives fighting not to think, serving anyone or anything that promised them even the illusion of control.


She hated the Jedi. They preached compassion, but had never come to save those like her starving right below their feet. They preached justice, yet stood by as the rulers and officials they defended openly enslaved others. They preached peace, but had been at the forefront of major galactic wars time and time again.


She even hated the Sith. She hated the figures gathered before her, either arrogantly thinking themselves superior while they fretted at their mundane or pointless ambitions, or willing to fall to their knees in humiliating subservience and cast away their very thoughts.


And she hated herself. Even now, she knew what she really was. The child who had never left Coruscant. The orphan ruling a kingdom of blind, animalistic cannibals.


In her new galaxy, there would be endless war. Endless strife. Endless destruction. It was no more than what they all deserved.


She leapt down from the block, the quake created from her telekinetic power fading as she gathered her will. Her lightsaber leapt into her hand, and with a hssss its red blade flared to life.


"So...who's first?"

Edited by Darth Calypso
Edited sentence punctuated wrong
  • Like 5
Link to comment
Share on other sites

On 12/8/2022 at 5:07 PM, Krath Inmortos said:

Cold air billowed from the Krath in rolling clouds of icy fog mingling with the wind and untouched by it’s growing howl, mixing with the snow to shroud the black-body suit clad frozen acolyte (possessed body). The winds continued to plummet the temperature and without a word, Inmortos hung his hilt on his belt, the wind itself turning as to his will to drive at the self-appointed queen, to drive her back with a headwind, the edge of the storm.


Biting her lip in concentration, blood and ichor spilled forth as the host of Inmortos’ will exhaled deeply through her nose like a reek preparing to charge. Even possessed as she was, as the cold tendrils

of death played about her soul, she was still fresh, a child of Mandalore born and bred for battle. And then they struck, as she pushed the last remnants of air from her lungs, Inmortos struck at the fear that encircle her soul and she inhaled. A deep startled gasp that crystallized the air, the force, as she went to draw air into her lungs and by it suck all of the heat and warmth, the powers and energies of the battlefield away to dissipate them into frozen unending stillness.


Cold and frigid darkness fell over the battlefield as the winds blew and an unnatural permawinter drew upon the dark forces that bound this world together. All who were there would bear witness to the death storm of eternal stillness unleashed by the god-king and no one would walk away untouched by his bitter touch. In the midst of it all stood Inmortos, his challenge apparent as the forces of eternal damnation came at his beck and call. 


The roar of the wind was like the roar of Ziost itself, a bestial sound of defiance and rage. Up till now Calypso had been holding back the cold of the planet's surface through the Force and her own will. This supernatural chill, however, cut through her, stripping away her life's warmth even as it pushed her back, shoving her against the rough stone of her pyramid as if the wind was the true hand of the sorcerer standing before her.  She held her lightsaber like a talisman, a single line of red in the sea of white. And while the snow blinded her mortal eyes, she still saw through the Force. No matter what body the necromancer had borrowed, his soul remained distinct. She saw it now as a dark, inverted thing. It did not shine, but consumed. It was absence incarnate, a hungry emptiness that left only cold and death in its presence. In her memory, Calypso had never perceived a Sith's soul as dark as Inmortos in the full of his power.


She laughed. Her voice, rich and throaty, mingled with the howling of the necromancer's magic.


This! This was the darkness she would turn on galaxy. The darkness she would awaken in the heart of every Sith. Joy surged within her in response to the display of primordial power.


But wait...there was something else there as well. A faint glimmer of light, almost lost in the roiling oblivion of the necromancer's spirit.


...Ah. The soul of the body he puppets. Of course he would keep it. It was such a fine source of fear.


For both of him...and her.


As the wind died, and the necromancer's puppet inhaled, Calypso extended her free hand in front of her, palm down. If not for her tattered clothes, she might look like a queen giving a benediction. Inmortos' cryomancy was a thing of true skill, draining away the swelling energies of the Dark Side. A lesser Sith might try and cling to their escaping strength. But Calypso understood.


From passion, I gain strength.


She did not attempt to hold onto the power that Inmortos took. Instead, she drew in more.


She drew on the passions of the Sith who had gathered before her challenge. Such anger, such hate, it was a sea of darkness at her fingertips, and she had spent her life carving herself into the perfect channel of that darkness. And for added measure, she drew on the poor soul the necromancer had imprisoned in its own flesh. Such pristine terror, coaxed to greater heights by Inmortos' own manipulations.


Inmortos skill was impressive. His cryomantic arts might even be a match for her raw power. But she was no ordinary Sith, and this was no ordinary battlefield. He could suck away as much power as he wanted, for in this moment, surrounded by these black-hearted witnesses, Calypso's power had no end.


She called out, "My chains are broken necromancer. Allow me to teach you what that means."


She took Inmortos' attack. No trace of fear wormed its way through her. Her gaze did not falter or flinch. She simply stood, defiant. For moments that felt like minutes, what little heat remained was drawn away by the vortex of the necromancer's draining magic. Frost formed on her skin. Numbness took hold and began to spread inward, and she felt her limbs turn leaden. Her body would be slowed now. But in the Force, she simply drew in greater strength to replace what he took.


And when it seemed to Calypso like the necromancer's puppet would be able to inhale no more, she struck back.


Lightning lanced from her extended hand, an explosion of raw, crimson electricity bolstered by the black emotions of the Sith surrounding the two combatants. The air shuddered and screamed as the darkness-turned-energy crackled through the air and drove towards the necromancer and his hijacked flesh-suit. It was simple, pure, and powerful.


It was the judgment of a god. 




  • Like 2
Link to comment
Share on other sites

She felt the necromancer's servants before she saw them.


Demons, specters, phantasms... The trio of beings were nameless creatures. Their unnatural presence was like slithering worms, threading through the currents of power and life so foreign to them. Calypso did not run, but instead gathered power to her. She would dispose of these interlopers, and then their puppetmaster. For what weakness of her mind was left for them to attack?


All around Calypso, the fog took on a life of its own as the apparitions commenced their attack. Images seemed to flash in the haze, while wordless whispers echoed in her ear. Half-remembered smells, tastes, and feelings of her past played out before her. It felt as if these beings had unspooled her memory like a scroll and were scratching their taloned fingers along its length. Lies came with the sensations. She saw enemies she had killed changed to friends she had betrayed. Her moments of victory were turned bitter and hollow. They even went so far as to transform her memories of hatred into puling cowardice.


None of it so much as stirred Calypso.


Each of their formless attacks on her psyche slid away, finding no purchase. Their lies were discarded as quickly as they formed, each no more substantial than the mist they were woven out of. Like children tossing pieces of paper into a bonfire, the creatures' attempts to break her focus and occlude her senses were useless. Against anyone else, they may have had more success; but Calypso had spent her life ridding herself of such weaknesses and insecurities. She was the Dark Lord. Nothing these creatures could conjure would hurt her, for her will was absolute and her hatred was all-consuming.


Then a figure appeared before her. It was vaguely humanoid, and surrounded in a soft, golden light. It smelled of grease, dirty metal, and sweat, the scent of a long day of hard work. The face was indistinct, because Calypso had forgotten it long ago, but the impression it made on her resonated deep in her soul. This person was warm. This person was safe. These thoughts echoed all the louder because this was no lie, but a true memory.


The figure stepped towards her, holding its arms out as if for an embrace. Calypso stepped back. For a moment, her hatred faltered.


Then came her wrath.


Pure, burning fury flowed through her. Fury that these creatures had dared try and needle her mind with these tricks. Fury that she had flinched, she who was first among the Sith, and who'd freed herself of her chains. Fury that she had such a weakness left, buried in her subconscious as it was.


Her power grew with her rage, radiating out like the rays of a star. Ire and hatred fed off each other, and in turn glutted the Dark Side as it flowed through her. However, the creatures accomplished their objective after a fashion. For that moment, Calypso was distracted, and did not sense Inmortos' next attack until it was almost too late.


The imploding spirit of the mandalorian careened towards Calypso, and only at the last instant did she realize the danger. With all the strength of the Dark Side she could muster, she flung herself up and back. It saved her life, but it wasn't enough to escape. Fog, snow, and stone all rushed inwards as the spirit formed its own brief singularity. The power of the implosion yanked Calypso back down, blackness creeping in at the edge of her vision from the sudden change in direction. She used the Force again, this time to slow her fall. Even so, she struck the ground hard, skidding across the now bare stone circle centered on where the spirit had met its end. Blood turned her scraped palms and knees a deep red. Her breath was shallow as she fought to get her wind back.


Her rage grew even hotter.


Ignoring her body's protests, she got to her feet. Her lightsaber, dropped when she hit the ground, zipped across the stone and back into her grip. It reactivated with a hiss, and Calypso flung herself across the battlefield. The fog parted as this living missile of searing emotion and power hurtled towards the necromancer.


She came to a stop only ten feet away from his puppet body, her free arm extended again, palm out this time.




Normally, Sith who channelled the power of hatred into a Force blast conjured an acrid, yellow-green energy that corroded their enemy's body and assaulted their mind with screams of pure malice. But Calypso's cultivated hatred was of another level entirely, and nothing tainted it as she directed her assault towards Inmortos in a 15' horizontal column tall enough to engulf a man and just as wide. And so, the light that emerged from her palm was not yellow-green, but the raw, searing white of a sun.


"...and die."



  • Like 2
Link to comment
Share on other sites

Calypso stood her ground as the tide of the tormented spirits washed over her. Her mind was inundated in their screams of hate and misery, and with them came the supernatural cold of the necromancer's magicks. The chill cut through her once again, and traces of numbness began to spread in from her fingers. She couldn't last long in this.


The spirits that touched her clawed and scrabbled at her mind, seeking to tear her soul away and bring one more damned specter into the deathly current, but once again they found no purchase. Through sheer weight of numbers, however, their attempts drew her attention for a brief, but vital, few moments. And so it was that she was once again caught off-guard by the necromancer's secondary assault.


As one of the spears of ice lanced out of the ground towards her, she only had a moment's premonition that allowed her to try and block the thrusting icicle with her lightsaber. Whether it was because of Inmortos' dark magic strengthening the ice, the sheer momentum behind the attack, or Calypso mishandling the block, the spear did not simply dissolve under the plasma blade but instead sheared even as it forced her back. The ancient sorceress was sent tumbling over the icy stone. The still bleeding palm of her free hand left red streaks as she came to a stop several yards away.


The analytical part of her mind, holding itself separate from the maelstrom of rage and hate that flowed through her, identified the best course of action was to retreat. Get out of Inmortos' immediate range and then assault his weakened body from afar until he gave out.




This was not simply a battle for survival. This was a battle for the soul of the Sith. Inmortos, with his ancient tricks and forbidden lore, represented another way of the Sith. An older way. A way that saw the Sith hiding and plotting, yet accomplishing nothing outside of building temples to ego that would fall to ruin, creating legends that would be forgotten, and training apprentices who would continue the pointless cycle. Each was so arrogant in thinking that they were the exception. Each so foolish in their inability to see the most basic lessons of their own history. The galaxy was a grinding millstone, turning by the momentum of millennia. Inmortos and his ilk sought to build monuments, palaces, and thrones on it, only to be ground to dust when it turned around again.


But Calypso had no desire for those things. Instead, she would shatter the stone.


That was why she could not retreat. Why she could not win this through tactical trickery. She had to leave no doubt, not in her mind or Inmortos' mind or the minds of the Sith watching, which of them was truly stronger.


She would not defeat Inmortos.


She would crush him.


Calypso stood. She seemed such a frail thing, a scarecrow in tattered cloth. But as she stood, the Dark Side surged to her side. Some spirits that had been assaulting her suddenly began to orbit, as if she was their sun, to eternally circle but never touch. For a brief second, Calypso thought it familiar, and then she remembered. She had been surrounded by spirits just like this on Coruscant during her 1000 year sleep. She had drawn on their suffering too.


She walked forward.


"I am Darth Calypso."


Another icy spear of the necromancer's spell rose to meet her, almost faster than the eye could track. Guided by premonition, Calypso's free hand was already up, as if to block it with her scraped, bloody palm. As it closed the distance in an eyeblink, coming within inches of skewering her hand, she sent a touch of will into the vortex of the Force that surrounded the two combatants, and conjured a brief telekinetic burst.




The spear shattered into a thousand pieces under the opposing pressure. Some of it acted like shrapnel, slowed but still moving with enough speed to leave red, trickling lines on her bare skin.


She did not slow.


"I am stronger than you."


Her pace quickened. Each spear that emerged to run her through was shattered by telekinetic power guided by premonition. Even as shards of ice left behind bleeding cuts, as the freezing wind numbed her body, and as screaming spirits whipped and howled about her, her stride did not waver.


"I am the Dark Lord of the Sith..."


She could see Inmortos now, both with her eyes and with the Force. He seemed as if he was the center of a tear in reality, an entity beyond nature that sought nothing but cold and silence. It was as if she stood before Death itself.


She did not falter for a moment.




She extended her hand towards the necromancer, and called all the power she could summon.


Force Push was perhaps the single simplest technique a Force-sensitive could learn. To use it to destroy this undead god-thing that had accumulated and wielded such dark, mind breaking secrets...it was the ultimate denial of his power and arrogance.


She unleashed the Push, all her rage, hate, and desire behind it. The stone ground before her, caught in its edge, shattered and pulverized into gravel with a deafening roar. The wave of telekinetic power raced towards the necromancer, bearing enough strength to tear durasteel and shatter starships.


I am the end of this age necromancer, she thought.


And you are nothing but a ghost.



Edited by Darth Calypso
Forgot to add Calypso V Inmortos ((3))
  • Like 2
Link to comment
Share on other sites

The corpse puppet tore like cloth.


Weakened by the battle and stiffened by the cold, its bones shattered and sinew was ripped apart by the wave of telekinetic power. In barely the span of a blink, the body that had once been Inmortos' mandalorian victim was nothing but strips of meat, shards of frozen bone, and dollops of congealing blood scattering across the snowy fields in a macabre rain. Calypso stood, hand still extended, a wave of destruction extending out from her. Her body was slick with red as a dozen cuts trickled blood down her skin. For a moment, she remained like that, silent and motionless.


Then she raised her face to the sky and screamed. Her voice was savage and defiant. In that wordless shout, she crowed her victory as an animal might. And laced throughout that primordial sound, a call that predated all language in the galaxy, was another simple message that could not be misconstrued.


Who's next?


But even in her victory over the necromancer, she knew the truth of the matter.


He was not dead. Not truly. Calypso did not have the means to put a permanent end to such a creature yet. His tricks would save him for a while longer. But...that did not matter now. Killing him had never been her intent. She had defeated him, and that was more than enough.


She spun in place, her sight in the the Force alighting on all the figures who remained in audience of her duel. Fully enmeshed in the Dark Side from the battle, her gaze was like a physical tremor in the air. It was the rumble in the ground that came before a volcano tore the land apart. She called out, "By right of victory, I claim my title! From now until I am defeated, any Sith who seeks to prove they are the rightful Dark Lord may challenge me!" Her eyes roved again across the gathered figures. "And if any think I have claimed this title falsely...then you are more than welcome to correct me at any time."


Moments of silence passed before she continued.


"The Sith have suffered a great setback. We must rebuild our forces before we can finally gut this galaxy of its masters and strip away their lies. So, I call on each and every Sith here. Serve yourselves, for by doing so you will serve me. Plot to depose me, for by doing so you will elevate me. Lay the groundwork for your own domains, for by doing so you will hand the galaxy itself into my hands.


Gather power, train apprentices, barter alliances, and prepare your strategies and your gambits. And when the time comes, when the signal is given and the Sith emerge from the shadows, this new Galactic Alliance will fall, not by a single army but by the corruption, selfishness, and fear that they suppress and deny. They will crumble, as is their nature, and we will rise, as is ours. For those of you whose ambition would have you serve me directly, rest assured there will be work for you...and opportunity." She smiled. "This is a trial. Before, you had the fear and weight of an empire standing behind you. Now you must prove that not only do you have strength, but that you have the intellect to wield it subtly. Try to stand stubbornly against the might of the fearful masses, and you will be broken. Learn to use them, and you will find power you have never seen.


The weak will die, and the strong will rule.


And it is high time the galaxy learned that lesson."

  • Like 2
Link to comment
Share on other sites

  • 3 weeks later...
On 1/2/2023 at 8:18 PM, Karys Narat iv-Adas said:

With that Akheron motioned him and his own apprentice to kneel before he spoke to the new Dark Queen.


 "You have erased any doubts from my mind about your power and strength in the Darkness. Your chains are truly broken my new my dark queen. My Dark Lord or in your case Dark Lady. I pledge myself, and my apprentice to you and your decree so long as you are not found wanting in the eyes of the Darkness. Betray the Sith philosophy and the Order, the very Code we stand behind and I shall hunt you personally....a fact you no doubt would enjoy. Until that day my blade, my Wrath and Rage, will be yours to wield against this galaxy. I will bring the vengeance of the Sith to any who would deny us our right."


Calypso's mouth quirked almost imperceptibly at the warrior master's words, a trace of a smile flickering across her face when he promised to hunt her down if she failed his expectations.


"Go and prepare our way then, Darth Akheron. I look forward to the day when I see you in your element, regardless of what side of the battlefield we each stand on." She did smile then, a small, reserved, cruel smile. For a moment, foresight and imagination coalesced in her mind, and in her mind's eye she saw the wrathful Sith mowing down soldiers like grass, and heard their screams in her thoughts.  "Yes...I truly do look forward to it."


3 hours ago, Mavanger said:

"Darth Calypso, I am Darth Mavanger, Sith Warmaster under the previous Dark Lord. Should you find yourself a moment away from those below us, I would like a word with you before I depart this twice-damned world."


He spoke only loud enough for Darth Calypso to hear him through his mask before brushing past her towards his commandeered shuttle. His words were not for the remnants of their once mighty empire.


As her eyes slid across the masked man, she immediately understood he was not like the Sith she'd seen before. The Dark Side coiled around this one in a manner that... She could not quite put the feeling into words, but there was something different.


Or perhaps she simply imagined it.


"Warmaster," she said. With a hand, she gestured for any other Sith lingering around the pair to move away. There was an expectation of obedience in the casual, dismissive gesture. "A strategist then. Is that why you did not step forward?" She arched an eyebrow. "I don't doubt I'm standing before a Sith of true ambition."


And I also don't doubt that I'm standing in your way, she added silently.

  • Like 1
Link to comment
Share on other sites

13 hours ago, Mavanger said:

"My current objective is to remain on the course plotted by the previous Dark Lord. I will slay any who represent strong leadership within the Alliance, and leave the vultures to tear themselves apart. I know of Akheron's ambitions to grow his little cult. Inmortos wishes to draw ultimate power from the dead. I wish to lay waste to the Alliance. But I wonder, Darth Calypso, what your goal is for the Empire that I have bled and sacrificed for while we rebuild."


"My goal for the Empire?"


Her face remained neutral as she paused, then answered.


"Nothing at all."


She locked her gaze onto where his eyes would be, behind that mask.


"I suppose its fitting that our goals are not that different. I'm not here to rule the galaxy. Sith before have striven for that, and some have succeeded in one manner or another, only to fall. I'm not here to found some new Infinite Empire to rival the Rakatans. Their own destruction illustrates the fatal flaw in such an enterprise. And, like you, I'm not here for my own glory. I've studied the histories of dozens of terrible Sith Lords who were legends in their day, and all their legacies were ground into dust by the endless turning of time.


No, leave those dreams for those who care for them. I desire something else, something more..." she paused as she considered, before smiling as she continued, "...primitive. I want to kill my enemy. Nothing more than that." She gestured up towards the stars, hidden by the clouds. "This galaxy...it galls me. It offends me. It disgusts me." Her lip curled down, genuine vitriol creeping into her voice. "I want to hurt it. I want to see it suffer. I want it to know my hatred as intimately as I do. And then, when its whimpering and begging for some bright hero to come and save it, I want to see it shatter and burn." Her flaring emotions called the Dark Side to her, and the air seemed to quiver like a string drawn taut. "This Alliance...it's the latest iteration of a stagnant status quo, and I want to see it and its entire line finally die." Passion laced her words. "And when I'm through, and the galaxy is ashes and smoke and blood, I want to watch what comes next." She smiled again, almost sweetly, her demeanor flipping as quickly as it had changed. "Whether that's some new Sith Empire, or something else entirely, will be up to the strong and the ambitious to decide. Perhaps, it'll be you who decides.


But make no mistake.


Anyone who stands between me and my enemy will die." 

  • Like 2
Link to comment
Share on other sites

On 1/22/2023 at 12:57 AM, Mavanger said:

"I must tell you Calypso. I have lost everything for the Sith. Brothers, friends... lovers. I've protected our empire at Kuat and Corellia countless times, and I've burned theirs to the ground at places like Naboo and Nar Shaddaa. I've defied one Dark Lord, and followed another into madness. I have slain a Queen and claimed a world, and I have slain an Empress and toppled and empire, all in the name of the Sith Empire. Even though my life is not dictated by the whims of the Empire, I will not stand idly by and watch as you burn the results of my suffering and sacrifice down alongside the Alliance to satisfy your lust for destruction. I've made that mistake once before. I have no plans on getting between you and your enemy, as long as that doesn't include the Sith."


He let his words sink in for a moment before continuing.


"But these are not words of war, nor a declaration of my opposition. Make no mistake, when the time comes I will challenge you for the throne, as is the way of the Sith. But that day is not today, and until it is, our interests align. If you learn of someone who needs to be slain, simply inform me and I will do so."


Calypso inclined her head in a gesture of respect.


"I have no intention of destroying the Sith. Honestly...I'm not sure if I could. How many thousands of years have the Jedi been trying to do the same thing?" She shook her head. "The dream of the Sith Empire is not one of mine though. In truth, I don't think such an Empire is even possible without an enemy to unite us. If we should ever conquer the galaxy, I foresee us fracturing and warring with each other in endless struggles for power and position." She smiled, her dignified veneer breaking for a moment. "By the Force I'd love to see that. But perhaps you know something I don't. Or perhaps we simply disagree on that point."


She cocked her head, her gaze becoming more intense.


"Or perhaps you're more ambitious than I give you credit for. When all is said and done, I only wish to use my power to tear this stagnant galaxy apart. Your appetite would far exceed mine, if you would use your power to tame the very nature of the Sith." There wasn't a trace of mockery or deception in words. "A true conqueror."


She shrugged then. "But in the end, that's the beauty of our truth. It doesn't matter which of us is right or wrong. It only matters who's the stronger. Rest assured conqueror, when you come for me your Empire will be intact. It's a useful tool to keep the Sith from killing each other before our enemy is defeated, if nothing else. And when you do finally come for me, we will decide the fate of the galaxy between us.


The destroyer or the conqueror.


I look forward to learning the answer."

  • Like 1
Link to comment
Share on other sites


  • Create New...