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Naboo


RaveN

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The Fair Lady of Iziz, a Harrower class destroyer that had served under Darth Nyrys's colors in the past was her chosen chariot to carry her to the campaign. Her captain was battle hardened and had displayed unyielding courage at Corellia, where the ship had nearly been lost entirely. The ship had returned to service with scars apparent but resolve undiminished. She had been waiting for the realspace breach in the hangar, and the blue green orb stood vast in front of her. It was a beautiful world, but beauty alone did not protect anyone from the ugliness of the galaxy. Luck and circumstance were the only arbiters of who got a free pass, and Naboo just didn't have the answer in its cards. There were Jedi here, because of course there were, and surely their would be idealistic lackeys were here as well, or at the very least en route.

 

It would have been better if this had all been avoided, but these people were irreconcilably devoted to the principles of liberty and democracy. They put the burden of leadership on children and called their naivete purity, holding to such notions even after it put one of the most brutal dictators in centuries on a galactic throne. Sheev Palpatine, or more properly Darth Sidious had been a visionary in terms of plotting the domination of the galaxy, but once he had it he had seemed at a loss for what to do with it. Like the rest of his people, he suffered from focusing on the art of things while completely ignoring purpose. 

 

She missed the simplicity of being a warrior already, the simple binary of threats and nonthreats replaced with a dizzying web of potentials and probabilities. When she was a Sith warrior it was easy to only kill the people that needed to be killed. Now, every action was emboldened exponentially and every Sith under her command was trying to pull her in their direction. She could feel the pain and sorrow that Darth Mavanger was feeling, even though he was trying to mask it as rage. To try and stop his rampage would either end him or reduce him to the shadow of a man, and replacing him with lesser leadership would only draw the war out. Conflict was inevitable, only the cost was variable. Perhaps the next generation could be guided to a higher purpose, but these unfortunates had been cast in the role of warning to any that believed that grace and kindness were meaningful traits in a warzone.

 

For whatever reason, the prior Dark Lord had been concealed in shadows for most of Mavanger's campaign. It was not unlike Exodus to move in such mercurial ways, but Darth Nyrys was not the man that came before her. She would be a symbol to her people and a unifier of the galaxy. But first the old ways needed to burn.

 

A large number of imperial engineers shuffled towards her, struggling to carry the object that she had requested. It was not a remarkable piece of craftsmanship, neither cursed or crafted by Sith secrets. Plainly speaking, it was a metal spear, composed of a tungsten alloy, although peculiar in that it was too heavy to be wielded by a mortal soldier. Nyrys took it up with ease, and with preternatural strength and prowess, launched the weapon from the hangar towards Kwilaan space port, guiding the weapon's descent and goading it ever faster with the Force.

 

"May the worthy emerge from the ashes to take their place among us, while the weak perish in the flame and the dust. I'll be going down with the first wave, captain, ready a shuttle accordingly."  

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Mavanger vs Alcemene

 

First of all, both of you did an amazing job with your writing here. Guardians and warriors have a reputation for being hard to write well, and both of you did admirably. This duel felt very much like lightsaber combat distilled, and placed on the forefront rather than a focus on powers. That being said, there is always room for improvement, so I have a couple of points to go over:

 

-Darth Mavanger is on the warpath after the death of his lover, Xahl. I know this because we’ve discussed it over comms and because it’s the reason Mordecai went from conqueror to butcher at Naboo. That energy feels absent in the first and second posts, with the focus instead being on vague anti Jedi and rebel sentiment and technique.

 

-Furthermore, I felt like the heavy armor that Mavanger was wearing was under utilized, being relegated to the role of damage mitigation rather than being leveraged to position more aggressively. Alcemene was able to use her shield both to respond to attacks and to have an impact on the landscape of the duel.

 

Duel result: Alcemene wins  

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    The Empire of old had been obsessed with super weapons, constructing obscene technological terrors the size of moons that could obliterate planets. Such force was unnecessary to send a message, and ended up being a monument to galactic inefficiency, as well as a symbol for the galaxy to unite against us. It was overkill, not in the sense of amusingly swatting aside an enemy, but the gross misuse of resources and power to clumsily bellow some measure of potency.

 

Darth Nyrys believed in simple yet elegant statements, no need to rave a misbegotten manifesto when a singular potent word could get your word across. The spear that she had thrown was such a statement. Hopefully the galaxy was listening so that unnecessary bloodshed could be avoided.

 

Submit.

 

The spaceport was suddenly engulfed with dust and ash as the spear hit the planet with such force that it could have been mistaken for a nuclear bomb. A relativistic kill vehicle attack was actually far more merciful than an atomic strike or orbital bombardment, as it lacked the radiation or obscene extended thermal spike. Not that anyone suffering through it would feel particularly blessed.

 

Her opening statement issued, she headed planetside with the troops aboard an assault shuttle. As her forces descended, she felt a disturbance in the Force, yet another sudden quietude. Darth Mavanger’s presence had been muted as it lay hazily in that twilit place between life and death. Flanked by elite soldiers, she made her way to where the last ghostly vapors of his presence remained.

 

“Guard the perimeter, I need to conduct a ritual,” she commanded the troops that accompanied her. She waited until they withdrew out of earshot before she confessed to the mostly dead man, “I don’t have a ritual, or any kind of answer here.”

 

“Everything is falling apart, and I wonder if maybe that’s why Exodus disappeared when he did, so that he wouldn’t have to deal with the mess, with the blame, as everything crumbled into ruin. I thought that maybe with your talent for command that we could rally the Sith here and keep the rebels on the wrong foot enough to prevent them from capitalizing on our moment of weakness. However, it seems that the galactic wheel is turning with inevitable surety, and entropy is here to banish us all back into the shadows.

 

You were one of the good ones though, Darth Mavanger, not rotted from within like so many of the others. A true warrior of the Sith, taken from us too early. But Sith are not beholden to the rules of the galaxy, so if you are truly one of our number, you will rage against this hand of stolen cards and legacy denied. Why are you so still at this betrayal by the stars to cut your story off at the knees? GET UP! BITE AND CLAW YOUR WAY BACK HERE BECAUSE I CAN’T DO THIS ALONE!”

 

Her throat was raw and sore from the sudden outburst. Tears came to reflect the mournful storm within her soul. “You know what the secret power of the Sith is? It’s not the Dark Side, or the quality of our agents, or some secret spell or weapon. It’s failure. We are constantly failing, but unlike our enemies we learn from our mistakes. We fail constantly, but we always rise from the ashes as something more, evolved. Superior. The scars we bear are lessons, not marks of shame. I thought that you were the answer, but perhaps the true path lies with another. I will not let the Sith end here because of my own faulty expectations. If your fight ends here, then I will find another. But if there is still some measure of you that wants to conquer death and spit in the face of the light, give me a sign.

 

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  • 2 weeks later...

“I would say that this qualifies as a sign.” Darth Nyrys said wryly, pulling the almost dead Sith Lord to his feet. Her muscles felt a little cramped, as if she had been holding the same position for days, but she dismissed it easily, she was no stranger to pain. Even in his armor she was able to lift Darth Mavanger to his feet with relative ease. The politics and mistrust of other Sith were far less present among the warriors, who put greater emphasis on utility than ambition. 

 

“I’ll get you to medevac so that they can have you back in the fight in no time.”

 

When they reached the guards she had left at the door, she ordered them to call in a shuttle to rendezvous at the throne room, might as well kill two birds with one stone and see if the Naboo could provide any inspiration for her own eventual throne room. It was one of life’s great ironies that the creatively minded were so often opposed to the same institutions that were in the best positions to allow them to express their talents. The Naboo had a beautiful culture that was built upon the mass graves of many gungans, not that they ever mentioned that bit. The self righteous always wanted peace, after they had gotten their fill of conquest.

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The air tasted bitter and ashen, suffocating in the smoke left behind by the fires of rage and bile. The blazing intensity of the moment was everything until it… wasn’t. These latent moments were the nature of the beast that they had all unleashed inside of themselves, but she did not relish them like the other times. They made her feel spent, used up, and hungry for the next rush, although that was an addiction that she did not feed lightly. Too many Sith burned themselves away too quickly by being dominated by the cycle of passion and burn out. The Dark Side was a part of her, but not all of her. 

 

She took the communicator from Darth Mavanger, losses were never easy for the Sith, but they were the crucible that either reforged a warrior into something stronger or broke them. This was the nature of the eternal war, ever pursuing greater strength and power.  

 

She took captures of the inside of the palace, a place of architectural beauty, and made her way into the city proper. The terrorists and dissidents were already melting away into the shadows, as they always did. She felt the half extinguished light of a solitary remaining Jedi in the city, and went in search of it out of curiosity. 

 

At the river that split the city, the Jedi lay paralyzed near a shattered bridge, with the kind of wound that would have been permanently crippling before the advancement of medical technology. Preternatural intuition told her that this was the Jedi that had defeated Darth Mavanger.

 

“I’m not here to kill you, Jedi. You struck down Darth Mavanger, but that makes you the stone that sharpens my blade. It’s why conflict is such an integral part of the galaxy. If you ever grow disillusioned with the lie of peace that the Jedi and the Alliance continue to pander with, you have earned your place amongst our ranks through your skill and courage. Think it over.”

 

Darth Nyrys took out her commlink and contacted command. Anyone with the courage to take up arms would be given medical aid and evac, regardless of colors. The civilians though, they belonged to the Sith now.

 

“Medevac is on the way, Jedi. May you find ever greater glory in your journey.”

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  • 3 weeks later...

Belay that order on the explosives, I am in the palace. Also, conduct Delta up to me immediately.

 

As befit her status, Darth Nyrys had been using the palace as a residence and command center on Naboo. Its commanding perch gave her an excellent view of the consequences of the actions of the Sith, a vista of bitter ashes. The passions of her fellow Sith had brought her this feast of crows, and at the time she had stood by them, but in the aftermath she regretted her own part in all of this. She didn’t know if she could have stopped the Sith on the charge, most of them not even aware yet that she had ascended to the throne, but she couldn’t help but feel that earlier in her life she would have tried. Perhaps that was foolish youthful optimism and the innate yet flawed belief that right would triumph over might. 

 

She needed to make her position clear, to associate consequence with sloppy conquests like this. There were absolutely times when there would be a need for mass violence, her predecessor’s preference for maneuvers in the political arena over the battlefield perhaps played a part in emboldening resistance amongst the softer folk of the galaxy. The siren call of vague ideals like freedom and democracy constantly swindled safe and secure planets into armed revolt, which the firebrands and dissident ideologues would always try to turn into an excuse for why the revolt was necessary. They were kleptocrat vultures who sent the gullible to the slaughter while they filled their gullets with a feast of sympathy and praise.

 

But while the Sith didn’t start this rebellion, they were responsible for the cost in life reaching the excessive toll that it did. There was a difference between cowing a populace with fear and outright exterminating them. Darth Mavanger’s prior military actions had been so much more methodical and smooth, this outlier was unfortunate. She needed to find out if this was the start of something new or a one time occurrence.

 

Was this the truth of so many past troubled histories, stymied by the blunders of the prior administration before they could even establish their own legacy. The feeling that this was still Exodus’s empire was unavoidable, a pervasive and oily stain that seemed to cling to every aspect of the Sith. There was only one path forward, overgrown with thorny vines and concealed by mist. She might have doubted her ability to traverse that path in the past, but she had sharpened her blade on too many stones of trial and tribulation to question her strength anymore.

 

She took out the comm that Darth Mavanger had given her, accessed its encrypted line. 

 

We are reforming at Naboo, make haste there immediately.

 

She felt Ca’aran before she heard his approach, a wonderful storm whose downpour could wash away the funk that she was in.

 

It’s like watching a muscle finally releasing from a cramp. Please tell me that Mechis isn’t a smoldering slag heap. If you tell me that I will have a deep insertion mission for you. Very deep, much insertion.

 

She felt the presence of another Sith presumptuously demanding her immediate attention, but other things were about to come first.

 

I will address the Sith in due time, but there are urgent matters to which I must attend.   

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I am… overwhelmed, this throne belongs to someone else’s empire, and carries with it the blossoming sins of another’s choices. The harvest of all of the Spider’s agendas is upon us, and he is nowhere to be found at the time of reaping. Now the Sith, glutted on power yet starved for blood and flesh, find themselves off their leashes and at arm’s reach of the galaxy’s throat. I might have been among them if not for your own flickering humanity. Strange how it was the compassion of a soldier that spared me rather than the wisdom of a priest or poet, or some other traditional beacon of virtue. 

 

This isn’t how I wanted this to happen. I didn’t even raise my blade against Exodus, he just vanished at Felucia after giving me his saber. For all I know I am just another proxy in his schemes, or at least that is his intent for me. The galaxy likes to hold up Naboo as some kind of crown jewel of philosophy and culture, a clever deception to hide the blood that coats the hands of its founders. Now there will be armed revolts throughout the galaxy, and to meet them with blade and bolt will drown us all in blood, another grim chapter in the legacy of the Sith. 

 

I have a plan, though, to break both my chains and the cycle. The galaxy has forgotten why it needs a firm hand to guide it, and longs for the aimless meanderings of democracy once more. Let them have their corrupt politicians, and their impudent spending committees. When Coruscant burned, it was the Sith that rebuilt it and drove back the invaders. In absence, the public’s imagination has crafted tales of great guardians and idealistic protectors. They told themselves that the Jedi and the alliance weren’t helping them because we had driven them away, but in truth, the Jedi preferred the safety of isolation over keeping the promises that they had made.

 

But plans can wait, surely I will be neck deep in schemes and plots once I open the doors to the other Sith. At ease soldier, I called you here as my lover and confidante, not for a formal after action report. So come to bed with me, so that this new path does not consume all of me, and more importantly, because I really, really want you to. We won’t have long, I need to address the Sith before they burn down another planet, but without your touch all there is to gain in the galaxy is naught but ash and dust.

 

She kissed him deeply, hungrily. As loathsome as it was, the planetary pogrom was like doing a freighter’s worth of spice, and its siren call had beckoned to her over the weeks since her arrival. Instead she had sublimated it into more distilled desires, desires to continue her physical training, the desire to enjoy the amenities of the palace, and of course, physical desire. It was rumored that the previous Dark Lord had kept practically an army of courtesans, but she couldn’t help but feel that such extravagance would dull the joy of it all for her. Lust should be lustful.

 

Ca’aran began exploring his own lust, in depth, and together they stole this moment away from an ever demanding galaxy. She had noticed a shift in her mindset since she had created this form for herself, a newly seeded hunger for recognition and devotion from others, and Ca’aran’s love helped feed that hunger. His love felt worshipful in its focus and adoration, and that just felt so appropriate for how far she had come. In time, they would all adore her as she delivered them from the aimless meanderings of democracy. 

 

He called her Ailbasí. From anyone else it would have been insulting at best, and a reminder of weaker times, but from him it was endearing. It meant that he still saw or hoped for some measure of innocence and joy in her. She held him tighter. If everything else burned down around her, walking away with this would still be enough to call herself lucky. 

 

---------------------------------------------------------

 

Afterwards, they helped each other clad themselves in the trappings of their roles, but it felt less claustrophobic now. Nyrys had an easy grin that hadn’t crossed her lips in weeks, and the weight of the crown seemed a little more bearable now. 

 

She led him by the hand to the throne room, which in truth had more of the feel of an extremely luxurious executive’s office, and granted him a seat next to her. It was a show of favor meant to make it clear that this mortal was off limits to the other Sith. She gave him a final kiss before she put her mask on, figuratively and literally.

 

With the might of her power, she called upon the Sith at Naboo to assemble at her side, so that she may hold court over her generals and viziers. There was one truth that she could not deny, while the Sith could not ever truly be controlled, the darkness and fury of their storm could be directed. Like fire, they never stopped being dangerous, but their power could be put to use rather than left to run rampant.

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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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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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  • 2 weeks later...

Children, nearly all of them children.

 

It seemed like they lacked the capacity to speak without using barbed words, subtle jabs, and direct insults. All meaningless of course without the verity of combat or other means of measurable challenge. It was all posturing and bravado without the conviction to make any meaningful claims or reveal any quantified outcomes. Some were more guilty than others, but reforging them into a singular spearhead was more important than naming and shaming individual parties.

 

It’s a shame Master Sheog wasn’t here, he probably would have eaten one of these pfaskers by now, and it would have been hilarious.

 

Sound left the room, followed shortly thereafter by a perceived thinning of the air. A profound sense of emptiness saturated the room, an absence so great that its emptiness inexplicably created the sensation of sound and presence. A true manifestation of how many pfasks she had left to give. Sharpened wills numbed and dulled, words caught in the throat and refused to vacate, and the tyranny of the Dark Lady’s will held dominion over the room in all of its dark glory.

 

“I came into this meeting thinking that we were all professional enough to keep the pettier aspects of our nature in check while we worked towards the betterment of our people and our place in the galaxy. My court is not a schoolyard for little boys to try and validate themselves by bullying each other. From now on you will keep civil tongues in your mouths while we are gathered for the purposes of planning and ceremony, or I will avail you of your tongues.”

 

Now too did the sense of gravity and inner balance fade from the room, making standing a nigh impossible feat. Light itself fled from her presence, until the room was revealed only by the crimson hues of her visceral energies, pulsing and throbbing like a raging heart. From the ether the throaty chanting of ancient Sith traversed time and space to resonate within the chamber. This was the power, the legacy, of the throne that she had claimed. It was high time the others were reminded of it.

 

She plucked Darth Mavanger out of that perilous abyss and steadied him, like a goddess plucking a stone and affixing it in the night sky as a moon, majestic in its own right but undeniably serving to reflect her own presence and purpose.

 

“Warrior. Chain breaker. Conqueror of death. Warlord of the Southeast Quadrant. You have led our armies and our people in battle. You have struck down agents of our ancient foe in single combat. You have put the needs of the order above your own pride and ambition. I exalt you in front of our kin and release the title of master from my clenched gauntlet. May your blade sharpen when mine dulls.”

 

She turned to Tros Ardell, who was not experiencing the same wrathful force as her unruly children.

 

“It seems that my wayward underlings require an education in the fields of respect and hierarchy. I offer you the honor of leading the final preparations for our assault on Nar Shaddaa, with these Sith under your direct command. And if any of them get too uppity I give you my leave to shoot them. Use them as you see fit within their roles. Except for Darth Mavanger, I have a special task for him.

 

As for those of you that have been so carelessly wagging about your barbed tongues, I am instituting a “Pfask about and find out” policy. Any unwarranted insult, any baseless accusation, any whispered snide remark, it will all be considered a matter of honor to be resolved in the ways of forebears, by means of single combat.

 

Now, I have had taskmasters organize refreshments and entertainment in the palace’s feast hall. I encourage all of you to use this opportunity to find value in the skills and talents of your fellow Sith. I have no delusions of this assembly becoming fast and timeless friends, but you should endeavor towards at least professional courtesy as if your lives and livelihoods depended on it.”

 

    

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  • 1 month later...

Darth Nyrys found no joy in the celebrations or the banter. Naboo had been the resultant blaze of the buildup of too much aimless corruption and rage within the order. While such things were tools of the Sith, they needed to be handled properly, the way the sorcerers conducted their strange alchemies with volatile and strange humours. The taste of ashes and pungent sickly sweet rot pervaded the air and the food, offering no joy from the spoils of victory. A more intact Naboo would have been quite the crowning jewel in the Empire’s journey of conquest, a place of art, culture, and beauty, but there was something cursed about this place that brought out the worst in the Sith. It was Emperor Palpatine’s birthplace, perhaps he had scarred it in some way, or it had scarred him until he was the madman that the galaxy would eventually cower before.

 

    She left the banquet hall in a pensive state, having nothing else to say to the assembled Sith. The coming storm would measure each of them in ways that they never had to contend with under Exodus’s rule, such was the nature of the slow moving poison that is success. The shortsighted among them would think less of her for it, but the wise would see the strength gained from tribulation and struggle. She had once wondered what great monument or temple she would leave behind upon reaching her time of greatness, but now it seemed more important to carve and shape the Sith themselves more so than any stone or metal.

 

    Upon reaching the shuttle pad she saw that she was not the only one ready to leave Naboo. Ca’aran was the anchor that kept her from fully falling into the abyss during her darker moments, the flickering candle that made her a conqueror rather than a reaver. Without him she might have convinced herself that she enjoyed the taste of ash and blight, that the galaxy deserved such things as a consequence for the wrongs that had been done to her. Instead, she was a righteous devil.

 

    “Headed my way, soldier?” she asked, the question attempting to bring some levity to her overcast heart, but only partially succeeding. “I am told that we have taken Lehon, and I wish to see what state it is in, whether or not we have enough left of it to proceed with the plan.”

 

    The shuttle departed, leaving behind the festering wound that was Naboo. As the ship reached orbit she could still see the dust and smoke from her own dramatic entrance into the battle. Her hands were by no means unsoiled by the conflict, the rage of the Sith being a wildfire that spread like a spiritual sickness from one Sith to another. That wasn’t fair though, that was shifting the blame. No matter what darkness plagued her, it was still her hand that cast the spear…

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Vorin vs. Namari et al

 

After reviewing the duel and discussing it with my second, there is a fair bit that we need to discuss here to move forward and build towards better encounters. Duels involving more than two combatants are often difficult to unravel, and the mod team decided to rule on the players involved individually rather than as a cohesive whole. That being said, one of the major issues that comes up is the lack of coordination by the three light siders. 

 

To be blunt, I’m not sure why Aidan was in the duel, and I feel like the first two posts in particular were extremely disrespectful to everyone else in the duel who was taking the time and effort to construct well thought out and detailed posts. If Aidan really didn’t want to participate in the duel, a discussion could have been had about him being on the periphery or being somewhere else during the combat, and if the intent was to troll the opposition through poor play, then this definitely falls under the category of bad sportsmanship.

 

Pandora, to my understanding, is a consular, and yet she is played throughout the duel like a guardian, regularly choosing to engage the Sith warrior in close combat without particularly acknowledging that in such a fight she would be vastly outmatched. Tactically, this made no sense, especially when you had a Jedi guardian present in your line up. 

 

Namari, your posts were solid and felt in line with the power level of the character, and your positioning of your troops established a narrative and tactical intent.

 

Blackmorne, your posts were a delight to read and really convey how much of a threat Blackmorne is without devolving into edgelord cringe. The character really shines as a villain even while taking on multiple combatants at once.

 

Given the lackluster effort of Aidan, his attempt at martyrdom fails to influence the outcome of the duel beyond ensuring his death(And the IC framing of “I can throw the duel because I will respawn anyway” can lead to problematic behavior in team matches). While Pandora’s posts are more fleshed out, tactically they feel outmatched and dissonant from the character archetype and the realities of engaging a Sith warrior in close combat. Ultimately the duel came down to the fight between Namari and Blackmorne, and it was very close, so much so that we actually had to clarify final positions and cuts. 

 

Ruling: Namari wins after Vorin defeats Aidan and Pandora

 

Namari being able to get her guards around the flank to close range fire on Blackmorne was enough to turn the battle, being near enough to overcome the armor while not needing to defend against an attack.

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