Nar Shaddaa

[Darth Nyrys]

Nyrys’s personal battlefleet entered Nar Shaddaa’s orbit and quickly set up combat air patrols as they formed up for the assault. The intel had been correct, and the enemy was relying heavily on mines to fortify their hold on the world. Wasteful and outdated strategies for a people stuck in the past.

 

“It’s like they’re doing our job for us. Signal the Bewitching Lover and the other interdictors to use gravity wells to disperse the fields and rain down upon Nar Shaddaa with the terrorists’ own weapons.” 

 

It was unfortunate that the rebels always chose to nest amidst extremely concentrated population centers, but holding back would only let them know that their human shield tactics worked. The best path was to end the war quickly and decisively, so that this behavior would not be repeated on world after world.

 

“Once the mines are dispersed begin the assault, let the galaxy see that the rebellion cannot protect its own.”

 

The interdiction fields of the Sith ships began the task of clearing mines with their fields, dumping hundreds of kilometers worth of mines on the planet at a time. The fascists of the Empire and hypocritical Jedi would have their backs broken here, the levy for the sins of Kamino, Kuat, and Dark Sun Station.

[Darth Nyrys]

Mavanger vs Cassandra

 

Absolutely wonderful offerings from both sides are on display here. Both Nok and I felt that each player brought their A game. However, we both agreed that Mavanger’s use of emotion as a weapon gave enough extra punch that it carried him into the lead. One final gift from his lost love to his lord. 

 

Result: Mavanger ties… I mean wins, sorry, old habits.

[Darth Nyrys]

    The chaos of battle was in full swing, with the Dark Side pulsing in otherworldly colors and incomprehensible sounds, sometimes a trickle, other times in great torrents of energy. The presence of a Jedi had revealed itself in the hangar of her ship, drawn by the need for conflict to resolve such dire disparities in reckless proximity to each other. Someone could comment on the clash of good and evil, but both sides had been drenched in blood for centuries. This wasn’t a moral conflict, it was people at war, indistinguishable from one another save by uniforms and flags. There was an element of absurdity at play, in that the bigger the forces assembled were, the less it mattered. The war itself had become a self sustaining cycle of atrocity and revenge.

 

Any measure of justice that might have been found in the destruction of the false empire’s populace eluded her. Nor would this prevent further slaughter of her people, in fact, it may even result in retaliatory strikes of its own. There was no agency to be found here, only people stuck in their roles, playing the parts that the galaxy expected of them. So many chains that she never saw the one around her neck. 

 

Her ascent to Dark Lord had come too soon, there was still too much of her inside to just blindly accept the hollow mantle that came with the title. An absence of self was required to be a sharp enough razor to take the throne by force, but the line of succession had been broken when Exodus had left her the throne, and none among the Sith possessed both the ambition and the skill to make her defend her claim. In success, the Sith had lost their edge.

 

The forces opposed to them were equally defunct, having traded morality for the surety of fascist rule. The galaxy could not survive two empires, having already faced terrible destruction at the hands of one. If the end sum of this fight would contain any measure of righteousness, it would be the assassination of Empress Raven. The decapitation of the imperial command structure would most likely result in what had come to pass in history time and time again, the ambitious underlings cannibalizing each other for their spot at the throne. Problematic successors could be managed as needed.

 

The greatest driving political force in her life had always been the preservation of her people and her culture, but the role of Dark Lord was a position of faith that needed to be able to sacrifice all things. The Jedi was here to try and kill Darth Nyrys. So be it. Her soldiers were well trained, but they would be little more than momentary obstacles to a Jedi of the strength of spirit that she felt.

 

“Bring the Jedi to me, I will not idly spend your lives against a foe such as this.” 

[Darth Nyrys]

"What can I say, a killer recognizes a killer.” Darth Nyrys said after taking an introspective breath. “I thought that if the head of the serpent was sundered that… something would change. But I just feel empty and numb. You kill us, we kill you, the cycle continues. There are no Sith or Jedi anymore, there is only the war, and every day we cut away pieces of ourselves to feed it, and then we teach our future generations to do the same. 

 

There’s another galactic shakeup coming, I can feel it in the Force, but even as you stand on the threshold of victory do you find yourself any closer to a galaxy that stands on a sturdy foundation of liberty, or will you be sleeping with a blaster under your pillow and haunted by the specters of potential threats? We are all of us consumed.”

 

Her stolen power perched uneasily in her breast, like a feast of delights too rich for the senses to handle. Regardless of outcome, this was the end of her tenure as Dark Lady, for the throne was just another chain, perhaps the tightest chain there was. She would break its stranglehold and find freedom in walking away. It would be a setback for the Sith, but they always rose from the ashes of adversity all the stronger for it.

[Darth Nyrys]

“And here I thought that we were having a meaningful conversation. That lasted all of… what, three minutes?” The Dark Lady shrugged, her expression hidden by her helmet, but her tone one of energetic sarcasm that seemed at odds with the situation. “And after all of the work that I went through to give you your gift. You seem remarkably ungrateful.”

 

“Go. Build your better galaxy, the weeds have been plucked from the garden and this time if anything goes wrong you won’t have us to blame. My people already have orders to withdraw beyond the boundaries of the known regions, we just needed to make sure that the ones most likely to pursue us were declawed.” 

 

“Or you can stay here and kill me, if that will make you feel better. There’s something festering out there in the void, an absence that is crawling out of the pit of ash and jagged bone that birthed it, and it terrifies me far more than any Jedi or mortal warrior. A lightsaber blade to the heart seems like an easy out, all things considered. Then again, death has never really affected me with the same finality as most others. Maybe I’m just pfasked no matter what. The galaxy won’t be though. You’re welcome.”

 

The scales were being tipped the way that they needed to be. The Empire, decapitated. The Sith fleet thoroughly depleted by a battle where they focused on victims rather than victory. The Sith army left by the wayside in exchange for the Mandalorians, a people notoriously suspicious of the Force and all forms of sorcery. They would never know, never understand, and the legacy of Darth Nyrys would most likely be reviled as failure by the Sith, but masks could be removed just as much as they could be put on.

 

“So what’s it going to be?”

[Darth Nyrys]

With the Grandmaster’s show of faith, what had seemed like a monofilament tightrope suddenly seemed a little wider, marginally less futile. Ailbasí’s sigh of relief was audible. Even though she kept Ca’aran somewhat at a distance in terms of bonds to keep her own darkness from pulling him down, she still felt it when the Scarab’s doom consumed him in immolative fury. It was all on Sheog now to do his part. 

 

After this last duty is done, let’s run away together, my love. Our bellies are full of loss and sadness and war, and now I want nothing more than to find some forgotten place and curl up with you by the fire. I’ll be with you shortly.

 

It was a message that would find her champion across the almost immeasurable bounds of distance and void, as his consciousness stirred in a false womb her presence would be there to comfort him. As long as they remained part of the cycle of conflict, his wounds would never heal, his ghosts would continue to remain fettered to his psyche. One last mission and then they were out. 

 

“Withdraw the fleet, but set a heading for Kamino for the Fair Lady, the rest will just have to suffer without my charming presence. And have the ground teams retrieve the crusader if she still lives, I sense that she will have a part to play in all of this.”

  

The fleet began a phased and disciplined withdrawal, melting away to leave behind the flames of retributive wrath. Darth Nyrys was glad for the red hue of her skin, it hid how flush the death and pain made her. It was the finest meat and headiest of wines, but like all meals it would pass, fleeting sensation followed by hollow memories. And then hunger. The curse of sapience was to dream beyond the measures of reality. Ambition beyond reach, lust beyond love, hunger beyond need. 

 

She removed her mask, as she doubted that her opposite had any plans of low cunning. While not a guardian, this Jedi carried with her the sense of a warrior’s principles. Amusingly, despite her rank amongst the Sith, meeting a Jedi was still something of a novelty for her, rebels and rival Sith had been far more present adversaries throughout her years of service.

 

“Would you like a drink? There are matters that we must discuss of great consequence, and a stiff drink may help with the processing part. I assume that Jedi are allowed to drink in order to cope with the whole… being a Jedi thing.”