Naboo

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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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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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A small laugh sprung from the shattered marble wall, Hayley stepping from it with a sudden, delighted spring. Her one, sulpheric eye seemed to sparkle in the light, a dark mirth like a flame within it. Her razor-whip seemed to curl about her lithe form as she stepped, and a predatory grin played across her freckled face. Her voice was gravelly and sharp. 

 

“You speak of gods, be they fanged, or hanged, or drowned… Are we not Sith?”

 

Her hands seemed to shake, as if with anticipation. Searching for a trigger to pull or the handle of a blade.

 

“We are gods. Bound to no power but that of our own. Perhaps the Clan Bragnalsau…”

 

She let the insult hang, her countenance growing entirely still. Her one eye stared at Akeron, reminding him of the training on Mykyr through which they had both gone. It had bonded them, but that bond would be broken easily by a challenge to the Dark Lord, and thus to The Court of Madness. 

 

“Needs to… Accomplish something of value to consider themselves worthy of stepping from the shadow of pathetic gods.”

 

The Sith Hunter stared then to the droid Sith, the one who called himself a slave. She had been a slave once, it was nothing to glorify. 

 

"Does your whelping god delight in death as I do?" 

 

A drip of blood rolled from the Sith Hunter's lips, and she let it fall to the ground between them. She had grown tired of talk, of such long speeches with little actually said.