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Naboo


RaveN

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Advancing into the next bubble, Inmortos gave little heed to his cohort’s plight, though he was secretly glad the clone had made it. The knowledge in his mind was too valuable to lose and plucking it from a dead body took time he did not have. He would need to be a bit more careful. As fun as popping bubbles was and all, he had already loosed their sub back to the seas.

 

Still, his doctor and compnay were now somewhere in the chaos that the more worldly Sith were creating. A sinister smile cracked the Sith’s frozen far off features. It was going as he planned. Deliberately walking forward, Inmortos waded towards the chaos, his frail hands rolling at his waist as he mumbled. The words were barely discernible, like an old man lost from reality, but each was carefully chosen and woven with the others into an ongoing spell of icy destruction. Where he stepped, ice crystalized outwards across the floors and up into the bulbous walls. Where he looked, heat vanished in a puff of cold steam, glow lights flickered and went out. Where he gestured, spears of ice arced outwards blocking doorways and impaling any who gave inclination to stand against him. As he breathed the temperatures dropped, crystalizing the very breath of any before him. Those that did not bow before the frail old wizard died, their bodies hanging from spears of ice, the lifeblood dripping out of them.
 

As he moved, Inmortos felt a twinge of dark side power, an unknown being or beast of power was radiating it’s presence in the darkness. The dark lord licked his lips, whatever or whoever it was might make a welcome addition to the doctor’s collection. The greater his collection grew, the more powerful Inmortos became. The twisted doctor’s creations were but a breath away from becoming slobbering undead slaves, extensions of Inmortos’ will. If it was strong in the force, it might also allow the doctor to unlock the mysteries of biological force manipulations; another power for the god-king of the lizardmen.

 

Glancing about at the kowtowing gungans, Inmortos surveyed their very souls. “Worthless,” he spat as waves of atomizing destruction ravaged their bodies like swarms of insects. The grand hall was filled with screams and then fell silent aside from the clatter of bones to the ground. The dark sorcerer shuffled on. Any Gungan before him met a similar fate until he found Dr. Zylus or one of his clones. He struggled to tell them apart. “Doctor, it is time we secured transport to the surface. A beast of dark side power beckons. I think it may be one worthy of your research.”

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6 hours ago, Krath Inmortos said:

 “Doctor, it is time we secured transport to the surface. A beast of dark side power beckons. I think it may be one worthy of your research.”

 

"You-

 

Wait, a Force-sensitive entity? On Naboo? Native?" His anger at being nearly drowned evaporated as an enigma posed itself. "There are no records of such..."

 

On the other hand, it would add into known trends. A temperate terrestrial world, larger than average flora presence, a specialized and highly developed predator population, a native civilization attuned with the natural environment... Even the human colonists, with cantankerous neighbors on their doorstep and a wealth of resources simply waiting to be exploited, kept to a harmonious and inclusive lifestyle. That in and of itself should have raised Zylus' suspicion. It was completely out of character for the human species to act peacefully for long periods of time, particularly in the Outer Rim. And yet, all the trends of a world with the potential for a native Force development seemed to be present. And if this creature was one of the predators Naboo was infamous for...

 

"Yes, yes, I believe that's for the best." Zylus barely felt Unit 22 redirect him, and only absentmindedly noted that he'd almost walked through the bubble wall. "A predator will have developed a connection for active use, like records of the Vornskr or Hssiss." He snapped his fingers. "Scans. Brain scans over development into maturity. Maybe we can finally narrow down the commonality of species in accessing the Force phenomena. I know its the amygdala. It has to be. Oh, wait, there may even be a measureable effect! I'll need to get tetraclorin, what I've got won't even cover a standard humanoid. Also...a larger multi-holographic scanner...maybe something designed for livestock..." He stopped as his mind finally hooked back into reality. He stood straight, and nodded.

 

"Yes, I agree. That would be an excellent idea, and could very well further my research." Best to give his employer something to motivate him. "I've been considering splices, and a aquatic, Force-sensitive predator would be a prize addition to my collection."

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Few remained after Darth Akheron and Krath Inmortos were finished in the hall. The Warrior was about to continue until his apprentice returned, allowing the Linnorms to clean up whoever wasn't impaled or sliced apart. Turning to face him he was about to speak when he felt it. A call in the Darkness.

 

A powerful call. As if someone wanted attention, if that was the case it was working for it intrigued the Sith Lord and seemed to lure him into finding the source. Speaking, he decided to investigate.

 

"Well done my apprentice. I believe our time down here is done...at least for now. The Fanged God wills us to the surface it seems. Surely you can feel the Darkness, something or someone calls out, demands our attention. It is curious, we shall make haste and investigate, although it appears that we have lost our means of transport. Tell me did you come across any submersible while finding this vermin. If so lead us to it."

 

Allowing his apprentice to lead the way, Akheron kept a close eye on their new captive, even as he spoke about both Dr. Stylus and the Krath Inmortos, who he noted had joined the destruction just moments before.

 

 "I take it you also felt that Krath Inmortos. It is interesting is it not?. It appears the Fanged God calls us above, lucky for the gungans it seems. I have instructed my apprentice to find us some transportation, if you would both join us. I also have a new 'friend ' here to interrogate on the journey, once I am done with him the doctor and yourself are free to do as you wish with him. Feel free to join in the interrogation if you feel so inclined".

Edited by Karys Narat iv-Adas

https://jedirp.net/topic/4851-trodai-narat-iv-adas-darth-akheron/

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 "Only in my pain, did I find my will. Only in my chaos, did I learn to be still. Only in my fear, did I find my might. Only in my darkness, did I see my light." - Darth Akheron

 

I survived the Great JNet Outage of 2012

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Inmortos regarded the Sith warrior with a nod, “You have our thanks Akheron; but if your apprentice can secure one transport, surely he can bring us two. My associate here has samples and clone servants that must be brought back with us and, if you may be so willing, a sample of your own flesh would make his journey here worthwhile. Should you be struck down, I will ensure you have a mortal form upon which to cling, lest you be lost to the void.”  
 

Inmortos shuffled along alongside the warrior, leaning heavily on his Ithor wood cane. He was as much an anomoly on the battlefield as he was in life itself; for while he was alive, he was suspended in a nigh eternal cryostasis of life and within the force itself. His presence stretched across the cosmos connecting him to the world he ruled as a god.

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The powerful call the others felt, Solus felt as well. Perhaps it was because he was still growing in his force powers, or because he had connected and used the force so much today but no matter, he did feel the call. 

 

“Tell me did you come across any submersible while finding this vermin. If so, lead us to it.”

 

If Solus could have smiled, he would have. Instead he simply nodded enthusiastically. 

 

“Yes master! I found several! Enough for all of us to get a ride back to the surface.”

 

With that, Solus led the group back to the repair bay that he and his men had taken cover in earlier. Out of the six Bongos that were being repaired there, the group found that three of them were still in working order, though one did seem to have a slight leak. Still, they would function.

 

Solus volunteered to drive one of the bongos and lead the way. The Bongo was a difficult thing to drive at first, but the Shard managed it well. Combined with the calling feeling and his own personal experience in these waterways, Solus became a natural at leading the bongos towards their destination. And this time, he wasn’t as quick to forget to use his own force sight when entering areas that held monsters of the deep.

 

It took the better of a few hours, but eventually the Bongos emerged from the waters in the ruined and mostly destroyed city of Naboo. Solus looked about in awe. The destruction he had seen with the Gungans was impressive, but this was mass casualties. Unnecessary, but impressive.

 

“I’m sure that you, Lord Inmortos…” Solus spoke, once everyone had gotten off the Bongos and onto the deserted, smoldering streets. ”...would rather make your own introduction to the Great Empress? You and your…” Solus gestured to the pale men that were with the old being. 

 

“...Associates do demand their own attention”

 

Solus wasn’t sure what to make of them to be honest. They all looked so...similar. Surely he was having some kind of error in his sensors? Or perhaps they were all related and were brothers of some kind? The only one that seemed physically different was the big one.

 

“My master…” Solus turned to Akheron and bowed slightly. “If my deeds have overshadowed my mistakes, and if the proof that my powers have grown under your tutelage is revealing of your own greatness, may I request the honor of being introduced to the Empress by your side as your apprentice?  You were impressed that I, a mere droid as you put it, had the force, so surely the Empress herself will be impressed that you have taken such a being as your servant and student... ” 

 

As Solus talked, a pleasant surprise came upon the group. The being that dashed towards the group with such rabid and powerful movements was the large, slightly bleeding, sith hound known as Tear. Sensing its master was heading to the surface, the beast tracked its way through the slaughtering of the fields and the destruction of the city to get back to its primary food source. 

 

Tear stood its ground next to the Shard. Solus tried to make not too many movements, hoping his focus on Akheron would win him the honor of being introduced to the Empress, though he did spare a pat to the beast's head. Tear didn’t seem to mind. He panted slightly, blood and spit dripping from his jaws, and eyed hungrily at the cloned beings nearby.  They looked tasty. The cold one however emanated its own dark sickly power, and would not be subjected to being a snack yet. 
 

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Akheron remained fairly silent on the journey, other than when he was interrogating the Ankuran, gungan captain who's screams of torture scared several smaller fish away from the craft. Soon enough and he broke under the strain, revealing the location of the Sacred Place just before they reached the surface. As they exited the craft, Akheron shoved the gungan in front of the group, before turning to Dr. Zylus.

 

"His all yours doctor, do as you wish with the gungan. He is of no further use to me"

 

Hearing the words of his apprentice, Akheron raised a hand, motioning that he should be silent as he spoke himself, even as they walked through what remained of the city of Theed. The smell of burnt corpses and death filled his nose, some he could see, still in the final poses of life. Arms stretching out in panic, hoping for a saviour only to be denied and forever be a statue of death. Others were melted completely, shrunken among the metal, concrete and ash. 

 

Naboo had been truly purged it appeared. 

 

"Perhaps, we shall see. It is not for me or you to decide if we are worthy of being introduced to our new Empress. If this was indeed her who called in the Darkness to us. It is only if the Fanged God wills it that she notice us and deems us worthy of singling out. On that note when we see her, remain silent my apprentice unless spoken too and bow with reverence to show loyalty to our new champion. The avatar of the Fanged God. As demanded of us, to not do so to show disrespect. And to speak without first being addressed is to invite death. 

 

Do as I do and no more, am I understood. That said, once she is done speaking, feel free to mingle, listen and learn with whomever you wish. But at all times be respectful. Find who may best serve as an ally to both yourself and the clan. Begin making alliances, building the foundation of your powerbase, for even a Sith needs allies. You will find few chances such as this to see the inner workings and upper echelons of Sith politics in motion. It is a rare opportunity for us both, one not to be wasted."

 

After this, he fell silent as they neared the gathering, and the Darkness spread around like a warming embrace. Ahead of them, Akheron noted several familiar faces and some not so known. He noticed Darth Mavanger, inclining his head as walked over to stand near. It was then he noticed a unexpected surprise beside him.

 

Another of his species, the Tjsis. This intrigued the Sith Lord, for as far as he had been aware he was the only member of their species for years that had joined the order. To see another was both pleasing and curious, for they were rare. He would enquire more after, for now other matters demanded attention. 

 

As a sign of respect to the new Dark Lord, as soon as the doors started to open, Akheron motioned his apprentice to kneel and bow before her in reverence and respect. To show loyalty to the new champion. Even as he did the same, going the extra mile of even removing his face mask, placing it under one arm, before putting it on the ground beside him and lowering his robe hood to reveal his true face as he knelt.

 

The first time he had done so in front of many that were present. Revealing his true nature in a sense, as he wished to look upon the new Dark Lord with his own eyes and judge accordingly. So far she had given no reason to doubt but by looking more directly he hoped to gain a greater understanding of the kind of person she was. Afterall the eyes were windows to the soul. 

 

Edited by Karys Narat iv-Adas
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https://jedirp.net/topic/4851-trodai-narat-iv-adas-darth-akheron/

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 "Only in my pain, did I find my will. Only in my chaos, did I learn to be still. Only in my fear, did I find my might. Only in my darkness, did I see my light." - Darth Akheron

 

I survived the Great JNet Outage of 2012

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“Do as I do and no more, am I understood. That said, once she is done speaking, feel free to mingle, listen and learn with whomever you wish. But at all times be respectful.”

 

Solus nodded and followed. He hoped that Akheron would get the chance to introduce Solus to the other Sith, but the Shard also understood that this was a very serious situation. He would keep his head down for now. 

 

As Solus followed Akheron, Tear alongside the Shard, Solus didn’t even need to access the Impossible Geometries to tell the power radiating from the building. With so many powerful Sith in one building, it was impossible to feel the darkness, even for a relatively newer user of the Force. 

 

The Shard silently thanked the Sorcerers of Bragsanu for giving him a body with the ability to look in all directions at once. All the people in the area was fascinating. Committing each person to memory, Solus vowed to do as Akheron ordered and would make some allies. Surely, for a being such as he, a droid who could use the force, who served under the Lord of Wrath, and who had tamed a Tu’kata, he would be able to make some allies here. 

 

When Akheron knelt, so did Solus. Tear sat down next to the shard, understanding that respect was needed to be given here, but not willing to surrender completely to anyone, not even its master. Solus placed a hand on the Sith hound, making sure people understood that Tear belonged to him.  

 

When Akeron revealed his face, Solus only did as best as he could to do the same. Some clicking and whirring came from his head, followed with the head plates and sensors opening up to reveal the small Shard inside. The yellow crystalline being shone brightly from behind all the wires and gears that held it in place. Its white lines of thought danced inside the thing violently. 

 

Solus, and Tear, were all ears. 
 

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Inmortos fell behind as the Sith warrior and his metallic minion scurried forward to take their place at the gathering. The Sith Sorcerer’s bones ached with each step, his body prematurely aged by the magicks that pooled within his veins. He felt the darkness of the devastated city. The toppled columns that masked the scores of mangled and mutilated bodies, scorched and crushed beyond recognition. Soot filled his nose as he licked his dry lips, tasting the utter devastation of the place, of the world. 
 

Inmortos’ dried lips cracked into a twisted smile, black bloody ichor dribbled from them. A raspy rough cackle of glee emanated outwards, low at first, but growing in strength and volume. Dropping his cane, the necromancer fell to his knees in the rubble filled street; waves of dark energy radiating outwards in fractured icy gusts of frozen wind. He could feel the souls of the recently departed extending outward in every direction, raw and ripe for the plucking; wealth and power bound as one. He knew it was true, there was a place for the worldy Sith, those who sought to conquer and destroy. They were those who carried the platter upon which the feast of the masters was served. They were the servants of the darkness, their souls bound to the truly free.

 

Inmortos felt the power radiating from the palace. He could feel the gathering of Sith within. They were like a pustule awaiting burst. He could feel the swirls of rage and hatred, of darkness and desire. Cold and coagulated, Inmortos rose. Calling his cane to his hand, the Firrereo leaned heavily on it, shuffling forward towards the palace and gathering of darkness with his escort of lizardly minions trailing in his wake.

 

Inside, the wizard entered the room. He saw the warrior and his crystalline apprentice kneeling removing the headgear, or in Solus’ case head itself. The reaper-clad magician stood at the back of the room, melding into the shadows. He shook his head at they that bowed. He had never met this dark presence, this dark woman. He had served under the Spider as their goals had aligned. Even then, he had been on his own more often than not, emerging from the darkest shadows of the Empire when he had need of raw materials or his skills at drawing forth armies of the damned were purchased in bloody sacrifice and ritual. Now would be the time to see what she that had assumed the throne might do; if she was worthy to trod where he had. And so he stood, hunched and withered, pain pooling in his muscles and death frozen in his limbs. Cold air oozed from his robes and his breath crystalized with each deliberate exhalation. From the dark recesses of his shroud he regarded the Sith all around them, silent and cold.

 

 

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Just like the last dark lord before him. For Furion had departed under equally mysterious circumstances and had left the Sith Order of the time in the lurch. A power vacuum that had not been easily filled, which had left a trail of bodies from Tatooine to Carida. The result of which had been the destruction of Coruscant and the overthrow of the Galactic Alliance. The death of trillions and the start of a new calendar. That power vacuum had spawned Faust, and what woe had befallen the Galaxy. 

 

If Delta had looked at his hands, he would have seen that blood on them. Dripping from the ceremonial white leather to run like a river in the halls of Theed. He was no blameless pawn, if it had not been for the old commando the Empire would never have made it to Onderon. Twelve trillion innocent people would still be living happy blissful lives and he would still be sitting in a Black Sun office on Bespin. The same Bespin he had helped sink a decade ago. He was a man defined by the blood he had helped spill, both directly and indirectly. It had started in a tent on Christophsis and now it had brought him here. Perhaps in the reflection it was better to not think about it at all. Lest the blood drown him. 

 

So he kissed her hand and stood at her right side. A prince of the blood. So crowned by her predecessor, he took his place again. Come what may he would face the tide of blood. Washing himself in it, until he became it, for in the blood he could not feel. 

 

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Ca'Aran

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Zylus shivered at the sight of the palace. The power of suggestion? Or the dampened sense of the metaphysical presence of many Force users?

 

He considered the possibilities, the observations he might make, the contacts and connections...

 

...Not worth it. Government involvement never ends well. Autocratic governments least of all. Best to stay out of its path. Private and corporate contractors are where the real growth is.

 

He watched as Inmortos strode, or rather shuffled, towards the palace, emanating discomfort and unnaturalness like they were tangible concepts.

 

One day I *am* going to get that corpse under a scanner.

 

"22, get the gungan, ensure he is properly bound." He picked up his comm. "Nex, home in on my location and come pick us up. Our employer is in a meeting at the moment, and I'm stressed. Work always calms me down. Have the others prepare the lab. Oh, and prepare something to nibble on.

 

...Not seafood. The Reythan Crackers. Just set out a platter."

 

The gungan groaned.

 

"And prepare another tank and get ready for a marrow extraction. We have a new addition to the database."

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Tros walked up into the palace after getting to halt order not to blow up the place. His buy'ce was on, and his walk carried a heavy limp, even more so amplified by the beskad on his side since the passing of one of his good friends at the hand of the jetii. Blood was dripping from his ear still from when he fired at close range at the female jetii and it slowly added it's own coloration to his already massively stained and worn beskar'gam. He could see several Sith around him, but not as many as he knew for a fact were on the planet. He was told to conduct Delta towards the main throne room, yet he was already ahead of him. While he didn't believe him and the old clone had ever met face to face, he knew his reputation. He stood outside, refusing to enter, as Delta and the Sith known to him as Nyrys seemed to be in a very intense conversation. Keeping his wits about him, he eyed the others within his eyesight, taking inventory on whom could be a bigger threat if one felt threatened by him and his vod that were present ont he planet's surface. 

 

A message ran across his HUD- ::All children are able. Their protector and one of the kids are protesting. Orders?:: Tros thought for a moment before he sent a fast reply back. ::I have no interest in maintaining prisoners. If they will not join us and become Mando'ade, execute them.:: Tros pulled off his buy'ce upon sending the order. He felt that if this new Dark Lord needed something from him, he would make sure that she understood exactly who he was and what he was pledging. And since his initial pledge, the stakes for House Solus has risen. They were in it to purge the Jetiise. They were indeed at war with them now.

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Awenydd stepped into the war-torn palace, her bare feet cold against the shattered marble. The world smelled of rotting flesh, that fell, putridly sweet smell that invaded the nostrils and watered the eyes. Bodies were bloating in the Naboo sun. The Sith Hunter let out a small hiss, striding to a carbon-scored wall to lurk in the background of the meeting. The Court of Madness had more eyes than her own here, and she could feel the distant heartbeat of the Revel. Sheog was himself at war, Vorin following in his master's slimy trail. 

 

The Court of Madness didn't care who was Dark Lord or Lady. They all played a part in the Revel. 

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She could feel the ambition in the room, the hunger of the Sith around her. A consequence of the Spider’s unorthodox choice to hand her the title instead of having a successor claim it by force. It would have been easy to return that doubt with bitter venom and vitriol, but there was no need. Any worthy Sith would either challenge her or fall in line, otherwise it was all just bravado masking cowardice and envy. She did not recognize most of the assembled Sith here, many of the old masters had faded away, although even from all this distance she could sense the presence of her old master, Sheog. That eldritch horror operated on a different level, more Dark Side than individual at this point. Reports of Qaela vanishing at Lehon were coming in, but that did not surprise or sadden her, that woman’s ineptitude had already cost the Sith plenty. Perhaps she had been struck down by a final command of the Spider, or maybe she was faced by an opponent that wasn’t an apprentice or an asthmatic toddler.

 

Akheron, on the other hand, was a veteran Sith warrior, an accomplished line officer who had returned to the fold after a period of absence. SSB had informed her that he had fallen in with some new cult, but as long as he performed his duties such things were of no concern to her, besides, an interest in cults and secret knowledge came naturally to the Sith. She herself had started a cult on Onderon.  Akheron’s access to forces specializing in reaving would be of great use in the next phase of the war. Not to mention her plans would be of particular interest to him.

 

Darth Mavanger was another veteran Sith, on the verge of achieving mastery over the Dark Side. He followed the warrior’s path, had led his forces on a largely successful campaign, and had defeated worthy adversaries in single combat. Of everyone assembled, he had the most viable claim to challenge, his accomplishments fresh in the minds of the assembled Sith, but she had read him as more interested in martial command than control of the order. The position of Dark Lord required much from the Sith that held the title, and would have inevitably taken him away from his beloved battlefields.

 

Darth Oni was something of a mystery beyond his rank of master, his presence inconsistent throughout the years. He seemed to be following a similar path to Darth Sheog in becoming an avatar of the Dark Side over pursuing personal interests. The entity had reached out to her while she had been indisposed, but she would speak with him at the meeting to see what he offered the order.

 

Darth Inmortos was a relatively fresh face, which was amusing given the state of decay that his body was in. He had played a part in the defense of Dac, was a known practitioner of necromancy, and had enough reputation that she had sent him to assist with the retrieval of plasma from the core. His story was just beginning, but it seemed to have potential.

 

Telperien, another legacy like herself, had done well in keeping herself out of her mother’s shadow. Although she was trained in the occult truths of the Night Sisters, she had always been a presence in the Sith Order that Darksong had always tried to claim but ultimately failed to deliver on. Perhaps one day she would make the leap and join the order, so that she might surpass her mother in every way.

 

Ca’aran was there of course, despite not being a Sith. His presence amidst this dark pantheon of divinities was telling of his worth and value to both her and the Order. He was an exemplar of mortal ways and means, an unrivaled soldier that had survived an endless procession of brutal wars. His counsel prevented the blunders of Sith getting tunnel vision and overly focusing on matters of the Force.

 

Awenydd was there as well, though little was known of her and many of the reports were conflicting. She had served at Coruscant though and had since largely devoted herself to training, particularly an apprentice named Shiro.

 

Akheron and Mordecai had both brought apprentices with them, and this made Darth Nyrys smile. Apprentices were the future of the order and only fools neglected them. The ones before her were an odd pair, one looked to be a tribal warrior descended from the nearly extinct bloodlines of the Sith race, the other… at first it seemed to be a construct of some sort, but after some scrutiny she realized that the machinery was just a shell for an alien mind inhabiting a crystal. How peculiar. Soon there would be plenty of chances for them to prove their worth to the order.

 

The leader of their Mandalorian allies had been permitted to join the meeting as a sign of respect and trust. The rumor mill was suggesting that Tros Ardell had felled the Jedi that had brought low Darth Mavanger, and if true, that made him an exceptionally worthy ally.

 

Darkwatch soldiers, whose loyalty she was certain of, approached and set up a localized jamming along with sonic and visual dampening fields. Rebel spies were always a concern, and her plans demanded discretion.

 

“I know that this is a time of rumor and speculation, unknowns and theories. Allow me to lay them all to rest. Exodus is gone. If this is a play for some greater game, he left no indication amidst his advisors and generals. He did pass his saber on to me, but this is not the way of the Sith, so after I make my speech I will be opening the floor to challenges of single combat, should any of you doubt my ability and possess the courage to act on those convictions.”

 

She had no interest in the theatrics that the Spider had often used amongst his own. It was the way of warriors to speak directly and bluntly, and with her brothers and sisters she would be true and clear. It was the capability of a ruler that was the true measure among an inner circle, not spectacle and illusion. Such things should be reserved for the enemy and the populace at large.

 

“That being said, we live in interesting times. The cloak of benevolence and statecraft that Exodus shrouded us in for so long has burned along with Theed and the rest of the planet, and the people are once again vulnerable to the hopemongers and grifters of democracy. If we were to try and maintain direct control over the galaxy through the Spider’s corpse empire we would face thousands of unknown enemies, without the benefit of whatever schemes he was weaving. To charge ahead on this course is to invite disaster, to trudge through a mire when another, clearer path presents itself to us.

 

We have glutted ourselves on the bountiful rewards that Exodus’s empire has given us, grown fat off of plenty and easy conquest over lesser beings. Now is the perfect time to hone our inner strength and cut away the accumulated fat. We will allow our enemies their republic so that we may expose it as a weak and corrupt institution, led by the self interest of politicians rather than ideals. We will bloat their creation until it festers with stagnation and blight, pumping poison through the veins of their government until the people beg us to return as liberators from the liars and the charlatans. We will exalt their politicians and quietly strike down any who show true leadership qualities. We will distract them from vigilance with pursuits of culture, benevolence, and charity.

 

Meanwhile in the dark we will become as razors. We will scrape away weakness on the whetstones of training, focus, and discipline. We will perfect our crafts of death, war, and darkness. We will not only be worthy of the galactic throne, but have the means and abilities to seize it. A clean cut that severs the head of our enemies, rather than a thousand blind swings at potential threats.

 

In order to facilitate the creation of a hidden Sith temple and to stabilize morale in response to this path, we have been securing the means and power to resurrect the lost world of Ziost. Once the capital of the Sith Empire, it was used in a ritual to contain the rebel fleet while our forces moved to disable the Grand Death Star’s super weapon. The rebels and their treacherous Jedi allies turned the weapon on Ziost, destroying five sixths of their own fleet in the process. While the sacrifice of Ziost was necessary, now its doom can be undone and our ancient capital restored. This is why I dispatched some of you to the hollow core of Naboo to retrieve plasma at the start of the invasion weeks ago, and why our forces are securing ancient Dark Side relics on Lehon. We are at the threshold of a new beginning for the Sith, and it will usher in a new golden age for our order as we decisively defeat our enemies.”

 

She unsheathed her blade in a single, smooth motion, and surveyed the assembled Sith.

 

Now, as I said before, the floor is now open to challenges. If you think you have the strength to oust me and claim the throne, approach. Know this well, however, challenges will not be met with mercy or hesitation, regardless of rank and experience. This is our path to glory.

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For a moment, the air was quiet. It was true, then, that the Spider had left his web. And while he knew little of Darth Nyrys, the company she kept spoke to her ability. Delta-73 had been one of the few to question his campaign's plan in the war room, and he had shown wisdom in his tactics. That he stood beside her spoke volumes on her own capability as a leader, as he didn't believe the veteran trooper would follow someone who was inept on the battlefield. It also clear from her words that she valued the way of the warrior, and the truth of the Sith. That only through blood can power be gained. He watched the room for a moment, eyeing the other Sith Lords present. He didn't doubt that at least a few of them were likely eyeing her up, gauging if she would cave under the pressure of her position, or if she was even worthy of it.

 

He stepped forward, offering a bow as he did so- a rare sign, for those who had spent time around him. A sign of respect- at the very least, she spoke the truth. The Empire as it was today needed to be trimmed. The previous Dark Lord's machinations were to finally be put to rest.

 

"I am uneasy, allowing these rebels to grow in power. The gambit you suggest has risks. But I have fought them on the field, and over planets both ours and theirs, and our forces are in poor shape. We've had battles that should never have happened, and part of this falls on my own shoulders with this crusade. But rebel infiltrators on Kuat, the loss of Fondor and Mon Cal, and even Korriban is under siege as we hold this meeting. I would criticize this, but at the rate the Spider's empire is crumbling, there would never be a chance for this meeting before our empire was naught but dust. If withdrawing to the shadows is the path to our domination of the Galaxy, then I will back you as long as you prove able."

 

By putting his backing behind the Dark Lady, he achieved two things. First, it would hopefully indicate to those who had served with him in the Outer Rim that this was the correct course of action. Second, it solidified her position as the Dark Lady. Regardless of her capabilities, she was right, and a power vacuum amongst the Sith at a time like this would surely destroy everything he had done so far.

 

 

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Hayley watched the new, self-proclaimed Dark Lord give her speech. She recognized the presence within the body as an apprentice of her own master. She could smell the corruption of Gluttony upon her, a distant stain that the Sith Lord herself bore. The corruption of Sin touched every member of the Court of Madness, in its own way.

 

The rhythm changed in her mind, and her predatory nature leered from behind her façade of beauty. The Lord Mordecai spoke the words of diplomats, and when he finished, the Sith Hunter rapped her bootheel upon the shattered granite, causing a harsh grating sound. When she spoke, it was with a quiet malevolence.

 

“As the Master of the Krath is currently... Consuming Sullust at the bequest of the Lord... Mordecai... And my brother Vorin is at Lehon..."

 

She twisted a strand of auburn hair about a scarred finger, flashing the assembled Sith with an odius smile.

 

“I possess the authority to pledge The Court of Madness to your cause, if you so desire us. We will stand behind the Dark Lord, as we always have.”

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Inmortos stood in silence, his cold gaze radiating out from beneath his cowl. He took in the spoken words and waves of feelings in the room. He had no desire to claim such a mortal throne, one that by admittance was weaker than the Spider himself had portrayed, held together by the assassin overlord’s strength of will. This vacuum saw the machinations of the Sith begin to crumble. He did not know this Nyrys, nor did she earn his fealty by right of inheritance. He did not either desire to challenge her or assume the mantle she bore. He had served his own ends within the Sith Imperial war machine, his goals being served by the eternal trudge of Imperial might. The carnal desires of these others were not his own. Power and territory, slaves and authority were of little value to his master plan. But to give up such a prize like the galaxy seemed a waste of such resources and might; one that Inmortos was surprised to see the likes of warlords give up without resistance. Still, they were not his battles or his losses and he cared little for them. He would do as he had always done, lurk in the shadows and construct his eternal memorial. When empires and rulers were forgotten, when bodies decayed and souls dissolved, the memory of Inmortos would remain etched amongst the eternal fonts of true dark side power, a black spot of never ending torment on the fabrics of reality itself. He would but adjust his ways accordingly and continue as he did allowing this new plan to follow it’s course.

 

Inmortos stared at Nyrys for a minute more while the others spoke before turning his gaze upon Akheron and his mechanized apprentice. He hoped that they could feel the iciness of his vision, the sheer deathliness of his deadened emotional lack of response. He willed that  the warrior and his pet, and the dog too, to know they had a place to welcome them should they so desire it. Even as their ideals differed, Inmortos had a use for these dark worshipers.

 

And then, without a word, Inmortos turned. Shuffling he made his way from the room, the heavy tap tapping of his cane all that acknowledged his departure, his retinue of diminutive undead and worshipful necromancic lizards flowing silently behind him. He would return to his ship. This world had little left for him. The dead here could be harvested by the lesser necromancers, by those who craved the spirits and not material. If this was to be the beginning of the end of the Empire, he knew it best to fade now before others began. From there he would protect himself and his eternal plan. He would not be the Sith to die for the cause of others’ power. This Imperial fade would not be his doing. He would use it for his own end.

 

Once aboard, Inmortos reclined himself within his chambers, reaching out to take control of one of his undead servants. Then, with scaled reptilian hands, he started his ship. Keying the comms, he related a message to his associate, Zylus. “Doctor, gather your wares. We depart immediately. The fall of the Empire is at hand.” The message was brief and to the point, but Inmortos knew even in his servant’s body, the maddened scientist would understand who it was and what would follow.

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Fiochmar stayed beside Mordecai looking to him for cues on what to do and how to act. As the Dark Lord spoke he got a grin upon his face her words rang true. And the thought of bringing back Ziost filled him with some feeling something akin to a slight retribution. When Mordecai stepped forward, Fioch did as well.

 

Mordecai bowed and Fiochmar followed suit. When Mordecai backed the Dark Lord Fioch nodded at Mordecai's words. Remembering the look though he stayed silent until bidden to speak. Fiochmar stayed beside his master and nodded when Mordecai finished speaking. Though he spared a glance or two at Akheron curious to see another of his species outside his clan.

 

This was short lived as he glanced to each of those who spoke next. Glancing at them all curiously. But more curious as he heard the tap tapping of the cane and turned to see one of them exiting.

 

"Interesting very curious." He thought to himself.

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Oni, who sat in shadowed corner for more than he had liked, oversaw the oath of fealty pledged this day and watched in eagerness as many came. As always, they came, they bent the knee, and they left. It was a menial matter, but one of great outcome and consequence for the new era that approached, whether it be for the betterment or the worst for the Imperium. For Oni though, over the years, it had became an affliction. Dark Lords had came and gone, too numerous for him to count, since he had tasked himself a servant of the Empire he chose to protect, including two of his brethren. It made him pause and wonder her resolve briefly, but felt things were unavoidable in the Grand Scheme. Either she would reign Supreme, or would falter and fizzle. Still, he heard her words thoroughly.

 

After the others had concluded, Oni stepped to the forefront from behind them, his decrepit form that laid beneath revealed in the rays of sunshine that draped the war-torn planet of Naboo as the dead echoed his call, the spirits entangled and feasted upon by his power. Like a Wraith, he glided into place, the frenzy of bound souls draping across his form lower the gift of Coronation as he took footing before the New Dark Lady of the Sith. It was the known Forlorn Talisman, a creation of emotions hung in suspension, eternally contained for amusement or candor. A Wraith's last moment forever lasting. With a bow, he presented it Lady Nyrys.

 

"Mi'lady... Fellow Sith." He began, his voice groaning with the souls of the past like nails on chalkboards. "I have watched the Rise and Fall of many Dark Lords since the time of Lady Dominique and my birth as Lord of the Sith, a few I avoided intentionally. And in that time, none had succeeded, including Lord Exodus. I stand behind your decision and encourage it. If any oppose, I offer these words:"

 

Oni let the room silence for listening attentions to be grabbed.

 

"The Way of the Sith is mundane. It is unbounded freedom. Unbound Freedom to fight, to kill, to learn, to test ourselves above and beyond what we believe to be our limits. No chains, no shackles. Just our bodies, our wits, and our souls, untethered. Mundane, but definitive. And yet millenia upon millenia, we have been wiped into near extinction, mostly by our own devices or egos. That is the reason and need behind a leader. For without one, we are already doomed to die."

 

"The Great Dark Lords have known and understood this. A heavy pill to swallow, but one that must be forced down each individual throat is our flaws and our fallibility. As great as we may be individually, others are far greater. Warriors test themselves in battle, but true Warriors know when to fall back and when to attack. Assassins test themselves with feats of improbability, but True Assassins know that the easiest feat is from the Shadows. And Sorcerers test themselves against the very fabric of reality, but a True Sorcerer understands the fabric first. I have drank from all three cups during my time as a Sith, and each has brought me a better understanding, especially in myself as a Sith and where my place stands. Something every Sith should do. You all would do best to heed my words."

 

"This Rebellion is our own doing. We may have held leverage after Onderon, but we lost it all with Corellia, Mon Cal, and Felucia. We became the aggressors the moment we stopped the propaganda. And now, with each day, planets and troops join their cause, just as survivors of Naboo will. It's best that my brother's Empire dies in his departure and we return to storyholos that parents scare their children to sleep with, a figment of imagination.... For a time at least. For in the shadows, we can hone our Order and rebuild. We will cut away the weak in unity, and foster the strong in kinship. And when our Dark Lady feels it's time to test her Empire against the Galaxy and define her reign, our blades will illuminate the truths of it."

 

Oni's gaze shift across the room.

 

"As Sith, we are Free. But as citizens and members of her Imperial Rule, we are bound to her laws. Our duty is to the betterment of it. Hinder it, and you become a liability, and liabilities are lost causes. I repurpose lost causes rather well."

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Tros listened and watched very carefully all of the movements of the Sith around him and within the room. What this new Dark Lord proposed was something his gut and heart told him was wrong, even more so since he wanted to burn and purge the Jetiise from the galaxy. But within his mind, he knew and understood the reasoning behind it. As of now, if the Sith remained aligned and helped back his House, the numbers to complete such a feat as the one he wanted to do was in no position to even be remotely successful. Word from his own had only just reached him that the fleet only just started construction and would not be ready for another two weeks. The hodge podge of weapons and crafting was not yet perfected either, so no strong front could be deployed until such feats were mastered by his own. 

 

There was no need for words from him, as it seemed to be more of a Sith gathering and speaking time. More for them to voice their own concerns or to challenge for the spot that this Dark lady held. Tros held zero interest in challenging for a rule of the Sith. His only concern was weather or not his House would still be allied and aligned with these Sith. Until the Sith amongst themselves figured out where they stood, his own ground held no voice. He understood this position well. So until that time presented itself, he would wait. Deciding that such matters where not important to push, he put his buy'ce back on and awaited to either be addressed or to have an opening that was a better time to bring up the alliance given to him by Exodus to see if this Dark Lady would still honor it.

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Mordecai didn't like long, grandiose speeches like the one the Sorcerer had made, and for good reason. The message that the Sith had wanted to preach could have been conveyed in much less words, in much less time, something that was surprisingly relevant as Krath Inmortos left the meeting without a word. That the other Sorcerer had done so had shocked Mordecai- Even he, with no love for Sith politics, had learned that if you did not pledge loyalty to the Dark Lord, you became an enemy. His dealings with the Spider has shown him that. He waited for Darth Oni to finish his words, not wanting to make a similar scene, before glancing at the Dark Lord.

 

"Stay" he muttered quietly to his apprentice. "And if the opportunity arises, mingle. I have business to attend."

 

He followed Inmortos' path. The train of dead souls and lizardmen of Aaris III were not so easily hid, nor did there seem to be any effort to hide his path. He was heading for the hangar. He opened his communicator, sending a message to his forces in orbit.

 

Krath Inmortos is not to leave this system yet.

 

He moved briskly- not a run, for the old Krath was hobbled it seemed by the use of his cane, but thanks to Oni's speech he had a head start. Mordecai caught up to his as his ship's engines blared to life. Above, the Sith capital ship Raven's Bane, Mordecai's personal flagship, hailed the craft with one simple message.

 

No craft is authorized for takeoff. Disengage your engines.

 

Mordecai crossed his arms, standing in the hanger in clear view of the Sith's cockpit. He didn't speak, as his words would not be heard from here, but he motioned for the Krath to join him outside of the craft. There would be words shared between them here, the veteran Sith hoped, before the Dark Lord saw fit to act on what had happened.

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The engines flared to life as Inmortos’ puppet made final adjustments for takeoff. As the hangar roof slid open, the comms flared to life but it was not Dr. Zylus that cackled across the speaker. Instead it was from above. Apparently the Sith fleet also were in some sort of game, kowtowing so soon.

 

With a suspicious squint through lizardly eyes, Inmortos surveilled the control panel and beyond the viewscreen. There in the hangar stood a solitary figure, a Sith. A Sith Inmortos knew, militaristic and violent. He was one the Krath had been surprised to see give up his ambitions so easily. He had expected so much more, perhaps this this one might even via for the mantle of leadership amongst the Empire. Keying the outer speaker’s Inmortos voice carried through the lizard’s hissing mouth out into the hangar. “What is the meaning of thisssss Darth Mavanger. I, a lord of the SSSSith, do not heed the commandssss of naval officerssss.” 
 

And yet the Darth motioned for him to join him on the bay floor. Whatever may be transpiring, the sorcerer had not made it this far without a strongly developed sense of paranoia to augment his abilities. His diving into forbidden texts and rituals having warped his mind so that past, present, and future, myth and reality all blended as one. He would honor this warrior-minded Sith. That was deserved. He would not; however, risk much for this strange display of behavior on the heels of such revelations.   

 

Jumping from the corpse at the helm, leaving it to sink forward dead and decaying at the controls, Inmortos’s spirit jumped to another, a darkly clad necromancer of his own line, willing to give up his body that his god-king might live. Clad in priestly garments of black adorned with talismans and profane ruinic sigils, the cleric of evil disembarked, accompanied by a guard of lizardmen. The guard stood back from the Sith warrior that had followed them, leaving Inmortos’ servant whom he now possessed, to continue forward alone. Their weapons were held at the ready and as soon as they had left the ship it sealed itself again.

 

With all the lithe grace of his kind the possessed body stalked forward, a jagged spear of a scepter tonking ceremoniously with each step until he stared up at Mavanger, his clawed toes scraping against the Sith lord’s booted toes, through slitted dead eyes. “I am no dog to be sssssummoned by ssssscrapssss at the will of any. SSSSStand down your navy that I may leave unhindered assss I came Lord Mavanger.” He smelled putrid. His scales shone with blood and ichor that was his own and others. Held together by dark side magicks, the diminutive creature’s scales provided it a measure of protection. It was something Inmortos hoped would be unneeded; but he did not trust this Sith. He had thrown away his passions for peace to easily. Still, he would honor him with a word. He had seen this one’s powers on the field of battle. He had earned a moratorium of respect from the twisted wizard. Perhaps, Inmortos hoped, he might rekindle this one’s passions.

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Whether it was distrust or disrespect that led to Inmortos not showing himself, it didn't matter. He was here to speak, and Inmortos was here to listen. He would not mince his words, nor would he show mercy if the warnings were unheeded.

 

"You've made a serious blunder, Lord Inmortos, one that if handled poorly will quickly turn lethal. The Dark Lady has called for council, and you were not dismissed. I don't know, nor do I care, if you support her claim or if you believe her to be a pretender. In truth, it matters little. But she has made a claim for the throne, and while you did not openly challenge her, by leaving before she has declared the meeting adjourned, you have challenged her authority. Even as I left, Darth Oni was swearing his fealty, as have Captain Delta and likely the Mandalorians brought with her. By doing so, so early in a reign that may yet be seen as illegitimate, you have put her in a position where she must respond."
 

He stepped forward, his body language relaxed- he was not looking for a fight here, and hoped to get through to the junior Sith Lord what his predicament was.

 

"By coming here without her orders to explain this to you, I have tested that authority, myself, to an end. But I come because I know how easy it is to misstep in Sith politics, and I have run afoul of the Dark Lord before. When the Spider came to me, I challenged his authority much in the same way that you have now, and while yours was not in the midst of soldiers, it was in the midst of our compatriots in the Sith order. I am here to ask you to return, and to prevent infighting between our order. If you refuse to hear me out, or outright decline, then you will not be authorized to leave Naboo. The fleets above are loyal to me, and will not stand down without an order from myself or from the Dark Lady."

 

 

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Akheron waited until each had said what they wished to say, only then did he speak rising briefly while he spoke. Now was his time to affirm his own allegiance, although he was somewhat disappointed and shocked that the Krath, Inmortos had opted to leave early and without much warning. Not even wanting to stay to hear what he had to say...this annoyed him ever so slightly. Were his words worth less than the others? But then he felt him, felt the iciness of Inmortos vision touch his mind, the sheer deathliness of his deadened emotional lack of response. Like he simply did not care for the politics. As he felt it he knew then he had a place to be welcomed with the necromancer. Should he sdesire it, although given the circumstances it probably was unwise for now.

 

He knew this situation placed him in a precarious position somewhat, given his newfound respect for Inmortos at least in terms of his skills with the force. His manners however were something to be desired. He was curious as to what might happen next. But regardless of it, his loyalty was to the new Dark Lord and champion, as was expected of him. As his beliefs demanded. 

 

"I am a man of few words, I prefer to see actions speak, however I do respect the power of words. I have listened and judged accordingly, Darth Nyrys words and strategy appears sound, we have a need to recover and begin the cycle of rebirth anew after gourging ourselves for several years As is the way of the Sith. To cut away the unworthy and strengthen ourselves through the trials we face and the challenges we present ourselves with to test and strengthen the whole, the time has come to cut away the fat to ensure our survival. The Fanged God has found it's new avatar, it's dark champion and the will of the Darkness has been made known. 

 

Thus far Darth Nyrys has proven herself worthy in the eyes of the Darkness and in my eyes, by her actions. Regardless of the circumstances in which she has inherited her new position. Not to mention she is doing for me a great personal favour in seeing to the return of Ziost, a location that has much value to me and those that remain of my race. As such as a representative of Clan Brasganu, possessing the authority therein to act in their stead in my capacity as a Lord-Captain, I renew the pledge once made to your predecessor. 

 

So long as you continue to prove yourself able and act in the interests of the Order, I and Clan Brasganu pledge our allegiance and stand behind the new Dark Lord. Where and when you need us, we shall act and reave the unworthy. Long may our new champion, Darth Nyrys reign. All hail the new avatar of the Fanged God, all hail our new Dark Queen." 

 

Stepping aside and bowing low again, at least until the Dark Lord wished to leave, Akheron knelt in fealty. He would mingle once he was certain he was permitted too and not before. The Warrior he was demanded he show such respect as did his beliefs. 

Edited by Karys Narat iv-Adas

https://jedirp.net/topic/4851-trodai-narat-iv-adas-darth-akheron/

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 "Only in my pain, did I find my will. Only in my chaos, did I learn to be still. Only in my fear, did I find my might. Only in my darkness, did I see my light." - Darth Akheron

 

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Solus took in each and every word spoken at this, for lack of a better term, assembly of Sith. When the Empress spoke, he was surprised at the words about the Spider but remained silent. After all, he had only heard the Spider’s praises, not his criticisms. When she spoke about allowing the Republic a chance to grow however and to cut off the weak parts of the Sith, doubt began to form slightly.  Still, Solus kept his mind silent, a lesson he was learning was necessary to survive this empire. 

 

It was obvious the others were hesitant a little bit. The being that spoke first after the empress mentioned he was hesitant to let the enemy grow in power. Inmortos, after giving Solus and his master a chilling gaze of approval, or whatever it was, left the room entirely without a single word. And Solus could have sworn that when he took a brief look into the impossible geometries, the clouds around a few beings had changed.


Then Akeron spoke. And the words his master spoke did not help ease Solus’ mind. There were inconsistencies in what Akeron’s words were, and what Solus had seen in the battlefield and with the Clan. The Clan was one who worshiped a god of death. Not a god of patience nor a god of silence. Then again, there was so little he knew about the clan and the Fanged God. But still...


For the first time in his life, Solus doubted his master and his master’s equals. 


Still, the Shard was a mere apprentice and not an equal. No, he was the  Golden Slave, and was meant to be ordered around until he earned his position. What was Solus going to do, challenge the Dark Empress in front of Akeron, right after his master had pledged support? Solus wanted his master’s approval, not his annoyance or hatred. He would put these thoughts away, until the right time presented itself. When it did, Solus would speak to his master privately, to save his master’s reputation, and prove his own capability in the future.


“Hail the Dark Empress!” Solus shouted after Akeron spoke, hoping the others in the room, including the Empress, would notice his pledge of allegiance and not his inner doubts. His face plates closed and sealed together, hiding his Shard and presenting a perfectly smooth and reflective surface. He stayed kneeling, but slammed his own chest once with a resounding bang. “May her time never end! May the galaxy fear where she dwells!”

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An uncharacteristic sigh escaped the lizard’s mouth as he listened to the Sith’s words. It came out more like a hiss than anything. “Your risssssk is appreciated brother and will be reeeemembered.” The undead lizard slumped forward onto Mordecia’s feet as Inmortos’ soul left it, dead, the putrid odors of decay oozing and wafting freely as the ravages of time took it; unheld within by Sith magicks.

 

Back in the cold black bowels of the ship, Inmortos’ eyes opened. With an angry groan, he stood, calling his Ithorian wooden staff to his hand, the weighted blade tucked in the handle smooth and icy against his gnarled knuckles.

 

With a pneumatic hiss the ramp descended. Through the clouds of steam the Sith sorcerer descended, his black robes hanging loose over his gaunt and twisted body. He clacked and shuffled towards Mordecai, falling into step with him as they turned to return. With a wave of his hand, the undead necromancer rose, it’s bodily fluids reanimating as the lizard’s body twisted and cracked unnaturally before falling into line behind the dark visage.

 

They made their way back towards the gathering of Sith, as they did, Inmortos spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. “I care not for kingdoms of this world, for empires and armies. They are but tools. We have a greater purpose brother and gatherings to showcase power and soothe insecurities are but a waste of the time we have to act; especially when none would dare to challenge the Lady Nyrys. Not I, not even you, who might take it as tradition would afford. I will not stand against the dark master, whoever that may be; nor will I suffer foolishness and waste by one.”

 

Slipping back into the gathering as Akheron’s mechanized living crystal spoke, oh how he would like to subject that stone to the tests of Doctor Zylus, to put it into a saber and send dark energies coursing through it, he heard him pledge his loyalty, chanting his allegiance. “Hail the Dark Empress” he hissed with the others as his undead minion hissed the same.

 

Whatever this council was for, Inmortos hoped that it would be productive, more than an insecure princess seeking acknowledgement from men of war. If the Empire was to fall, there were things that must be done, pieces set up to fall so that in the end, he, Inmortos the Eternal might reign over a kingdom not of flesh and blood of land and wealth, but of the expanses of eternity, a kingdom that knew no bounds, a kingdom of the mind. 

 

 

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The Tattered Dawn landed, unfortunately, a fair distance away from the commotion. An obvious necessity, given that the ship only barely registered as a friendly thanks to Inmortos, but would not be registered as a friendly presence near the gathering taking place further in the city. This moment was a fulcrum, a point on which the galaxy would turn by the hands of giants. In which direction remained to be seen... 

 

"...but such places in history are wont to crush the ambitious and the mortal. History is but a grand stage, and the best part to play is neither victor nor villain, but rather the viewer. For he outlives them all."

 

"Sir?"

 

"Nothing Nex," Zylus said as he strode up the ramp. "Is Kord-"

 

"Ready with the tank for the new subject. Oh..." Nex stopped as he peered down at the unconscious, but faintly stirring, gungan. "Is that the Otollan variant?" Something familiar and avaricious gleamed in the normally subdued clone's eyes. Curiosity, the coaxium of Zylus' soul, no matter what genetic template he happened to find himself in.

 

"Good," Zylus said, ignoring the question. "Load him in and begin the tests. Where are Gavri and Lor?"

 

"Waiting onboard with your change of clothes and your food sir. It should still be hot."

 

"Excellent. You all do fine work," Zylus said as an afterthought, sighing in relief as he walked back into the little ship that he could truly call his domain. If his clone had any reaction to the compliment, trained (and genetically implanted) stoicism kept it masked. "Once you've completed the tests, put together your thoughts on the addition of their genetic structure to our future projects. A succinct report on the objective details, but don't hesitate to speculate. I'm curious to see what angle you and your brothers will approach these creatures with."

 

Nex smiled, genuine anticipation coloring his pale face. Zylus could not help but smile back.

 

Back among my own minds. Sometimes I wonder why I ever leave.

 

"Sir?"

 

Zylus turned, genuinely surprised Nex was still there. After being given permission to begin extracting this gungan's genetic secrets, Zylus was sure his clone would run off. Karking heck, its what he wanted to do, absent the harsh language of course.

 

"With the latest subjects we've attained...and with us joining up with our employer directly...perhaps we may start some of the more active projects?"

 

Zylus' confusion turned into a wry, knowing smile. That feeling he understood all too well.

 

"I suspect we will. Our current employer is a man of few...pretensions. I doubt he will stop us. He may even become interested in the results. But still...don't start until I say so."

 

Nex bowed his head in a rare show of formal respect. "Of course sir. I won't trouble you anymore."

 

Zylus snapped his fingers as Nex began to leave, remembering something. "Tell Kord not to take off! I'm not sure if we have clearance yet!"

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Delta’s cold blue eyes watched the masses as they declared their allegiance to the Dark Lord. They were members of the royal houses, the force users and abusers, who held rank for their natural talent. Another flaw of the Spider. He had let the Empire expand beyond its capabilities, letting anyone in with a pulse and the ability to choke an innocent life out with the force. These men and women had not been there since the beginning. They did not know what they were signing up for, they had not lived in the shadow of an enemy Republic. Even as incompetant as the Galactic Alliance had been, it had hunted the Sith to nearly extinction. 

 

These were children when compared to those Sith he had once fought alongside. Those Sith that had melted worlds and doomed entire systems to their whims. They were signing up for their destruction. A great culling that they embraced with open arms and open hearts. And many would die whimpering in Alliance prisons, murdered by their guards like the Sith Lords of old. Where was the White Wolf? The Golden Lord? The Dark Spider? They were gone from this galaxy, their souls wandering far beyond reach, while their descendants played in the ashes of their hard forged empire. An Empire trillions had died to achieve, and which none had reaped the benefits. Perhaps, death would be the final victory for the Sith Empire. A place long remembered in a history book. 

 

Where were these children during the long years under the yoke of the republic? Where were they when Ziost was destroyed, and the temple on Coruscant sacked and plundered? Only Sheog remained of that once great race of Sith Lords. And even he was beginning to stumble into madness, if not embody it heart and soul. Would this new generation be as dedicated to the forever war? 

 

Only time would tell, and despite his reservations, the Dark Lord was right. They had to preserve what they could, escape into the wilderness of wild space and live to fight another day. If they held on for longer then they would be fully routed, and the blood would fill the space between the stars. 

 

With a fluid motion he drew his ceremonial sword from its scabbard and reversed the grips, extending it to the Dark Lady. He knelt with the motion, his crimson cloak spreading about him like a fountain of blood. 

 

“Your army stands ready. Come what will.” 

 

But they would need to kill the momentum of the Imperial Remnant’s Empress, and leave the building of the galaxy to the bureaucrats of a New Republic.

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Ca'Aran

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Telperien strode forward to match her adopted father’s motion. Her new bodies lithe form unknown to many in the room. But her presence in the force was familiar. She grinned happily and lifted her head. Exposing her neck to the Dark Lord. A sign of obedience unto death. 

 

“The Nightsisters will serve the throne, no matter the occupant.”

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The room seethed with unspoken discontent and fear. Many of the younger Sith either considered themselves entitled to the resources of the Sith Empire or tied their sense of ego and value to the strength of it. The Empire was not the Sith, it was a shadow on the wall, a useful illusive construct that was a byproduct of the power of the Sith, but not the end goal. She had read the journals of Sith who had made empire building their end all be all goal, and they had ultimately been left unsatisfied. The essence of the Sith was hunger, not a prize no matter how hard won it was. Outspoken youth had once been a defining quality of her personality, but this was the first time she felt old in the way that only witnessing the puerile arrogance of others could invoke.

 

“Criticism is a necessary component of any plan, and a useful individual can express concern without challenging authority. If you have doubts, find the courage to voice them so that they can be addressed and measured. If you are too craven for that simple feat, then you are of no use to the Sith, or to me.”

 

There was a marked division in opinion between Sith who had been with the order during the time of shadows and those who had arrived after the resurgence of the Sith Empire. The thought crossed her mind of just culling the weakness out of the order, but now was not the time to break her blade, and perhaps in adversity some of these softer disciples could be returned to the fold. They needed a greater challenge than butchering gungans for the fifth time.

 

“Tros Ardell, honored guest, I would see our alliance continue in good faith. I have stood by your people in the past and I am well aware of their worth, both in their warfare and their philosophy. The spider did not make known the details of your agreement, but I would gladly break bread with you to establish terms that suit both our people. I am sure that we can find much common ground, speaking warrior to warrior.”

 

Darth Nyrys gestured, and the room became awash in the blue glow of the holo projector as Nar Shaddaa manifested in the center of the room. It was both the Imperial Remnant’s throne world and the symbol of their campaign to remake the galaxy in a more ordered and secure fashion. The Remnant had been molded by the utilitarian ideals of the Sith, but ultimately had started upon a separate path during the farcical rule of the Galactic Alliance. Their ranks had quickly swollen with former imperial officers and soldiers who were frustrated by the disingenuous politics of the new galactic rulers, who did everything in their power to snub those who were supposed to be treated as equals. It was a great failing of her predecessors that the Sith had not capitalized on this to return them to the fold.

 

Now, they were the greatest potential threat to her plans, and needed to be dealt with. Permanently. The Remnant was the most likely political faction to remain vigilant for a return of the Sith, and the most likely to effectively establish a defense. But fear was the ally and the blade of the Sith.

 

“Our enemies have been far bolder this time around in declaring their revolutionary intentions, openly establishing a capital and primary base of operations on the city world of Nar Shaddaa. We will cloak surgical actions behind the shadow of a generalized punitive strike. Darth Mavanger, in penance for your handling of Naboo, I task you with breaking the Empress, permanently. Darth Sheog has assured me that he has the implements necessary to perform such a task. 

 

Under cover of the invasion, agents that will have already infiltrated the planet’s surface will move to secure and broadcast data revealing the purges that the Empire conducted to create their “perfect society”, with the intent to make the other rebels question their resolve to put someone like the empress into power. Cutting off the head, disenfranchising their forces, and distancing them from their allies with revealed secrets and paranoia will fracture them and allow more pliable hands to take the reigns of our enemy’s war machine as they descend into infighting and most likely shatter into smaller warlord territories.

 

Rather than waste the lives of our people on a meatgrinder assault, we will use dark trooper battledroids and revenant hordes to take the brunt of the enemy’s fire, while our regulars prepare for the next war and the expedient transfer of vital assets. We’ve already secured extensive production to build the dark troopers, all that remains is supplementing them with risen troops. While logistics puts together our naval assets for the assault, the Mandalorians will work in tandem with our necromancers to attain fresh resources for the assault. If we only used ancient corpses it is likely that the enemy would deduce that a deception is in play. These raids can also serve to procure any vital supplies and living recruits that we require.

 

During the early stages of our seeming absence, our operatives will work to strain the government’s resources through unaffiliated cults, sedition groups, and criminal cells, credit and manpower sinks that will encourage the politicians to redirect funding and policy change towards internal issues rather than keeping their eyes on the horizon looking for threats. We will dull their blades and their spirits with the stagnation of peace.

 

If any among you feel like they are exceptionally suited to any of these missions, speak up now.”



 

OOC((Still working on finalizing timing on everything with the rebels and Jedi, but will let everyone know when we have a window for Nar Shaddaa moving forward.))

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Tros gave a smile to himself and anyone who may have been watching. So, the bloodbath war that was promised to my House still stands. The Mandalorian tilted his head ever so slightly towards the location of where this new Dark lady stood. She offered up something to him that Exodus did not. Whether she realized it or not was not something he would spend time worrying about. While he stood, he was almost certain that he did not fully understand exactly what she meant by 'fresh resources' outside of bodies. If that was all she wanted him to do, that would be easy through the expansion of his House. If she wanted something more, to which he was almost positive she did, it would indeed require a sit down discussion between the two. 

 

But now th ebigger question for Tros was this- who the hell was a necromancers and what could they even possibly to do help them in the effort. A question that lingered within his mind, bu the was sure would be answered soon enough. Without any hesitation, he moved to place his buy'ce down upon a table and make himself more comfortable. He was certain by this point, the need to earn any spot amongst the top tier Sith was almost out the door. He had earned a spot amongst them as a fellow warrior through whatever small actions he was able to provide thus far. While a fight or two would still need to be had, like within any other Mandalorian house or group, this was no different. He would still need to earn respect from a few others, but the need to hide his face was not needed. The base line of trust had now been established. 

 

As he moved more towards the inner area of the palace, he eyed a few of the Sith, taking mental notes and observations of those whom seemed to be potential threat or eyed him as a threat. He also looked upon those that maybe would be able to some day soon give him some much needed lessons in melee combat, as his beskad that he received from his mentor was sure to be something new he'd have to get used to if he wanted to fully wield it against and jetiise

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