Private The Butcher King and the Dread Queen [Srina]

[Darth Carnifex]

Glittering beams of steel and light held aloft the roof of the world, encapsulating the luminous cityscape in a gradual sloping expanse that seemed without end. Though the limousine was not the only hovercraft to cut between the spindly towers and squat ziggurats, it was the only one with an ornithopter escort. Two of the multi-winged insectoid craft flanked the sleek limousine, the beating of their wings creating a perpetual hum that could even be faintly heard within the limousine's luxurious interior.

Three individuals occupied the limousine. One was the driver, cybernetically bound to the craft until it was difficult to separate where one began and the other ended. The other two occupied the passenger seating in the rear of the craft, where there was enough space to hold a company of twenty with ample leg-room to spare. Of these two, one was dressed sharply in the uniform of a military attaché of the Grand Army, their collar pulled high and tight against their slender neck. They stared straight ahead at the opposite wall of the cabin, never to glance in either direction; especially towards the other they shared the limousine with.

She was considered a guest of immaculate honor, her every whim answered to by those that received her at one of the many landing lofts punched into Malsheem's impressive exterior. Decraniated, their heads truncated along a horizontal line right below the lacrimal bone, waited on her without hesitation or complaint. Men and women dressed in similar uniforms as the one she shared this ride with spoke to her in soft reverent tones, informing her that His Supreme Excellency was awaiting her arrival at the Imperius Spire and that a car had been summoned to ferry her there.

That had been just shy of half a galactic standard hour ago, the vast distance one needed to travel within the sprawling superstructure of Malsheem almost as dazzling as that found on Coruscant. Though extremely immense from the outside, it belied just how much laid beneath the surface. A marvelous cityscape where every inhabitant of the space station resided, but that was only a fraction of the station; with many more dozens of kilometers between the habitation zone and the center of the structure.

Ahead rose a structure larger than any that surrounded it, a sheer pillar of dark steel that stretched from the absolute bottom of the habitation zone to its uttermost point and continuing beyond sight. At this point, the ornithopters pulled off as the limousine passed the point of no return; where no other craft was allowed to pass unless authorized. The limousine continued on as a large opened appeared in the side of the spire, swallowing the craft whole before closing behind them. Landing down on a flat platform, the passenger door slid open and both passengers emerged.

Greeting them was a man of immense stature, towering over the pair by several feet. His muscular body was draped in black and gray robes, stitched with geometric patterns reminiscent of those found chiseled into the tomb walls of Korriban and Ziost. Dark majesty radiated out from His body, a sight so terrible and yet wondrous to behold. She would know Him by His face, for this was not the first time they had met before; nor would it be the last. He reached out with a single hand to greet her and accept her into His home.

"Lady Talon," rumbled Darth Carnifex, Dark Lord of the Sith, "I am so pleased that you have come."

Srina Talon ​

 

[Srina Talon]

Tag: Darth Carnifex
_________________________________________________________​

Unexpected.

Silver eyes had taken in many space-fairing facilities over the last decade. Both her master and husband had a penchant for creation, especially, when it came to potentially volatile technology. From fleets of freshly minted ships to opulent star bases carved out of asteroids and ruined planets—There wasn't much that gave her reason to pause. To say that she hadn't spent the majority of the drive from docking toward the intended destination gawking at the city-scape would have been a falsehood.

Her colleagues frowned at the humility she unthinkingly maintained.

It was not nor had it ever been a quality befitting one who held a prominent presence within a community that triumphed in greatness. Only the most inexcusable of her accomplishments would be remembered by historians because they seemed to hold an undeniable impact. She had a gift for pacifying rebellious worlds by any means necessary—For bringing more than one Empire fully to its knees. For striking terror into the hearts of her enemies, oft, by saying very little. Her peers had forgotten that she had also brokered a concord between Light and Dark. They conveniently forgot that her first love had counted himself among the Jedi Order.

That was a long time ago. Only the irredeemable remained, her legacy, a ghost story to be told to younglings in the Ascendancy to push them to be more than they were. They watched her with a combined sense of fear and awe that was nigh suffocating. Srina did not feel deserving of such reverence but it was there, ever-present, no matter how she disagreed. It was the same even on her homeworld, Eshan. Her people did not let go of the larger-than-life persona she held very easily—and they frequently beckoned home the pale daughter that waged war as easily as one breathed.

It was her husband who unwittingly kept her from returning to the cradle of the moon.

It was also her husband that left her seeking their audiences with Sith Lords that had no reason to receive her. This was his world. Srina had been forced to adapt to a new political sphere without any of the faces she knew. The Sith Order seemed to tolerate her presence because of Darth Empyrean but in truth—they did not follow her. It was not their way. If a command she issued was observed it was because of the telltale ring ever-present on her finger and the fact that she had the unadulterated power to make her will a reality. A command was courtesy. Not, a requirement.

That was the truth. Power. Who had It. Who didn't—And who feared what she wielded enough to obey.

Srina tired of it. Especially, now.

When the extravagant limousine finally came to a halt, she pulled the edges of her traveling dress to the side so that she might slide unhindered from the seat. Srina was known to hearken back to her heritage with shades of white and blue in her free time, but this visit, left her in an onyx fabric that seemed to hold to her as if she'd been poured into it. Her cloak was made of thicker material, perhaps reinforced, though the hood of the blood-red garment was left down. Partially braided hair, the color of the first snow, spilled down her back like a river. Formal. Yet, not.

She wasn't wearing armor, nor, did she have any of her typical weapons attached to her hip. Aside from a few rings, the only thing she carried with her was her saber. That was merely habit—Because she never went anywhere without it. Her warrior heart wouldn't let her.

The diminutive creature looked up at her host for a long moment. He was as she remembered, though, perhaps not stewing over matters of state. Anyone else might have cowered in the wake of a man such as he. She was certain that many men, had. Srina was not a man, however, and wasn't simply anyone. The dark was her home. It was where she found purpose, balance, and safety. Such a tremendous sense of power was not to be cowered before—But willingly smothered in.

She didn't fight it. Let it, steal breath away.

"…Thank you for having me Lord Carnifex...", she murmured, taking the hand that was offered so that she might step forward. His decraniated soldiers were certainly a sight but Srina found her eyes drawn more toward the grand architecture for a moment. Silvery eyes settled impassively back on the Sith Lord and she offered him a ghostly smile. It was a rarity. He still seemed to be every bit the Emperor that he had always been. It was a peculiarity. When some lost the throne, they became cowed by it. Darth Carnifex was no such thing. "And for your hospitality."

Greeting her personally? Sending a car and support to attend her during transport? There were security measures to be observed with an outsider, she was certain, but the little Echani meant him no harm.

Srina paused, again, glancing toward what should have been the skyline.

"…I can also see that the rumors about your mysterious floating kingdom were not unfounded."

 

[Darth Carnifex]

The Dark Lord did not smile, for He was incapable of such things.

"Your reception is my delight, Lady Talon. I welcome you openly to Malsheem." Slow had the Dark Lord been to opening up His worldcraft to the other members of the Sith Order, despite His assertations that Malsheem had been made to harbor such individuals alongside those that followed Him. Rarer still was the opening of the Imperius Spire to those not of the Zambrano bloodline, for it was the beating heart of Zambrano dominion across the galaxy; and fiercely guarded against those who did not share their blood.

Gesturing to where Srina's eyes were fixed, Carnifex elaborated; "Long ago a revelation came upon me, before I sat the throne of the Sith Empire. Our kind, the Sith, and those who have sought to emulate us have too long anchored ourselves to the infrastructure of the galaxy as it exists. All the galaxy is connected by a web of hyperlanes and trade routes, shackling star systems in a prison of codependency. To defeat an enemy forced to fight by these restraints, all one need do is strangle their lifelines. Blockades, raiding, sieges, these are the tools by which empires are toppled."

They had since moved from the landing bay and into the Spire proper. The architecture immediate changed once they had passed that threshold, the sterile white-gray walls and electrostrips of the hangar giving way to obsidian marble struck through with rivers of glimmering gold. Their way was illuminated by iron lamps suspended from the walls, green flame glowing brightly behind the exquisitely forged fingers of the cage. Statues and busts lined the walls, equal parts mythological Epicanthix heroes and revered Lords of the Sith. Srina might recognize some of these effigies, for they were made in the likeness of Sidious, Vader, Bane, Krayt, and many others.

"So I endeavored to break our dependency on the infrastructure of the galaxy. Malsheem is the culmination. It is completely self-sufficient, capable of manufacturing any amenity and fulfilling any need. Production facilities, shipyards, hydroponic farms, storehouses. With Malsheem as our guiding star, we can withstand the grinding teeth of untold millennia. It is our ark, Lady Talon, an ark to sustain the Sith for all time." They reached a large lift, as ornately decorated as the rest of the Spire thus seen. After they took their place upon it, it began to rise up through the spire level by level. It would take time for them to reach the destination that the Dark Lord had in mind.

"I have begun to open up Malsheem to the rest of the Order, but gradually. You are among the first to come to the Spire."

Srina Talon ​

 

[Srina Talon]

Tag: Darth Carnifex
_________________________________________________________​

The diminutive Echani found an inexplicable dichotomy in which the words of the Dark Lord did not match his expression. Or lack, thereof. She was not the most well-versed in social queues but time had taught her invaluable lessons about those around her. It was a wonder that she had ever survived their first meeting. She'd operated on truth and instinct. Srina, loathed lies. "Surely, you jest. I have never been referred to as a delight.", her words were dry and met with more truth than he might realize. Many found her personality grating. She was clear-sighed and soft-spoken save for when her wrath was ignited. The creature that crawled out of her throat once her ire had been lit had no place in this world—And yet, so many invoked it.

She continued to observe their surroundings without shame. Her silence was not a display of disinterest or disrespect, but, the opposite of it. The snowy creature learned more about the world around her and the designs of others simply by choosing to hear them with transparency. The words that flowed from the veritable behemoth were eloquent. Touched, by primordium. Her mind pieced it together and she slowly nodded at the acceptable logic. She was nothing, if not pragmatic.

"More often than not it seems that adversaries will burn themselves to the ground. We need only to…", she trailed off, lightly, while they began to approach the Spire. "Wait."

Srina recognized the gold hewn into the black marble. From where—She could not say. The pale creature had never been to any of the traditional Zambrano holdings and had only recently begun to delve more into the Sith Order. She was far from diffident but there was something in her that rebelled against all forms of doctrine. It was the reason she had left Eshan nearly a decade ago. Alone. Creditless—And afraid of things she could see and not see. Visions from the Force.

She had come a long way from that lost child—To this.

"I have seen this, before.", her words were quietly threaded into the air, likely, to be lost if the Dark Lord was not prescient enough to hear the faint admission. She did not refer to the style of artistry and grandeur that the pathway provided. She meant this moment. Her head tilted and her hand rose to her temple for a moment to still a dulling headache. It was not unusual for pieces of time to have loosened themselves from their moorings—But this was different. Crystalline.

Perhaps, Maliphant had witnessed it before his ascension from the Worm. That would explain it. Their thoughts often intertwined in ways that were consistently ephemeral and inexplicable. Srina settled on the notion of having dream-walked through the Malsheem through her other half until Carnifex disavowed any notion of that. She frowned, briefly. She was the first?

That couldn't be right.

The sensation of inquisitiveness that she held was expertly hidden beneath layers of immovable ice. Eyes the color of gun-metal turned toward the King at her side and she found herself watching him again. Perhaps, viewing him for the first time with true clarity between glimpses of what appeared to be his greatest enterprise. "Your Malsheem is impressive thus far. Important—Beyond words even if it is only half of what you claim."

She breathed. Srina did not doubt him, nor, the purpose of the ark.

It was another question that burned.

"Why would you open it to me?"

Srina harnessed the Dark because it was the sharpest tool. She did not have the presence of mind to adhere to dogma or the notion of an eternal throne nor did she desire it. The pale beauty had seen what Sith looked like when they claimed they were the pinnacle of their kind. Merely, momentary stewards. Eventually…They all tumbled, crumbling, beneath their own might. The Echani only desired the power she required to do what must be done. That was the main difference between herself and her husband.

She did not covet power—Yet came to it easily. He desired it above all—But it came with difficulty.

And a price. There was always, a price.

Her footsteps momentarily stilled and she focused wholly on Darth Carnifex . There was no fear in her. Merely, curiosity. "I cannot be controlled. I will never be…"

"What the Sith Order expects."

 

[Darth Carnifex]

As Srina watched Carnifex, so too did Carnifex watch her. They were both predators born of different circumstances, but predators nonetheless. Even with the cordiality between them, the Dark Lord had long since learned to trust His instinct and keep others at a certain length; one not too close but still well within striking distance of His wroth. He didn't believe that Srina Talon would act in any way threatening to Himself, but appearances were deceiving. He would never underestimate her.

His ears perked up when they heard her faint admission, a brief tingle of interest running down His spine before fading. Long had He coveted the gift of prophecy, scouring the galaxy to bring into His court those with profound prescient abilities. More than once He had found their skills ultimately lacking, but only once had the power of farsight turned against Him; when Darth Voyance cast in her lot with a doomed cabal. But, her bones rotted in the cold stinking earth, and Carnifex yet breathed.

No weapon fashioned against Him prospered for long.

His mind turned to her question, both of them slowing to stop after leaving the confines of the lift. The halls around them were much like those below, intentionally identical to sow confusion and disorientation among those who were not welcome. He turned back to look at the smaller Sith, one who counted herself among their Order through circumstance rather than intention. He'd met others who felt the same, and perhaps a long, long time ago He might have counted Himself among them. But He'd come to know that the Sith was His calling, that He was destined to stand amongst them; to lead them even.

"A true Sith rises above all measures of constraint, unfettered by the chains that shackle lesser beings. I once saw the spark of what you would become all those years ago on Kessel, but I did not interfere because of the respect I hold for Darth Metus, he that I would count among my many sons. In truth, intervention was not needed. The path you have walked has led you here to this moment, though the journey may have been fraught with uncertainty and doubt; the end was incontrovertible."

In that moment, His eyes shone brighter than they have before. They shone with the power of the Dark Side, a power they both wielded.

"Over the course of our storied history, the Sith Order has been broken and reforged many times over. Rebirth is integral to our creed. This new Order that we are building is no different, and if it is to survive it will need people like you, Srina Talon. It will need the unconquerable."

Srina Talon ​

 

[Srina Talon]

Tag: Darth Carnifex​

She could feel his eyes—But minded not. The wintry near-human would have considered him beyond foolish or even a touch suicidal not to thoroughly evaluate whom he had swept so easily into his Ark. Srina had been given every opportunity, every reason, to consign her soul to the deepest, darkest lore that the Sith had to offer. Yet, she rebelled. Indeed—It could be found that they were similar in many ways once one began to look beyond the surface.

It was their differences, however, that painted a much clearer picture.

Srina was precise and exacting in all things. When she called on the Force it was with the intent and focus of a surgeon utilizing a scalpel. Sufficient. She never opened the wound larger than it needed to be and rarely ever drew out suffering. Fear was a flavor that empowered her gifts after training with phobis devices, but even that element, the cold Echani seldom looked for. There was no need to. It was a simple truth that the majority of the galaxy was afraid of one thing or another. Srina merely used beneficial elements that were already present—Plentiful and powerful.

She saw what should be—And what should not be. Once that happened?

There were no laws that would hold her. There were no small mercies to side behind. There was only the measure of an intended target and an inevitable outcome.

Srina could see it still. Time. Weaving. When Carnifex stopped fully to speak she could hear his words pale seconds before he uttered them. The booming depth of his tone reverberated in her ears not once, but twice, and the edges of his colossal form blurred and twined with dark veins that spread outward and into the floor. The light from Malsheem seemed to soften and become hollow. Distant.

The young woman closed her eyes for a moment and her head tilted to hear things that she shouldn't before she breathed. Settling. Burying the memory of her far-seeing for when she might be able to analyze it further. She reached out to touch the gilded wall, briefly and was struck by the notion of having done the very same thing before. "This feels familiar.", she offered softly, though, it could be taken in many ways. The Dark Lord was smart enough to see between the things she did not say—But she elaborated with transparency in mind. "I find that I know these halls."

"Every sense tells me they should be confusing. Misleading. They…are not."

An all too-empty expression remained while absorbing what Carnifex had to offer. His perspective was rational. Words plain. She preferred that over silver-tongued miscreants that sought to bewitch and confuse with needlessly cryptic behavior. She felt strange. The notion that the Dark Lord had ever considered superseding her path was interesting. "On Kessel, that was all I was."

"A spark. It surprises me that you took note of something so easily overshadowed. A flicker so slight that a strong wind might have blown it out. I've long wondered why my Master sent me to you. I was inexperienced in diplomacy. Arguably, the worst option he had on retainer. The Viceroyalty were furious…But Darth Metus was certain I would not falter."

Srina paused in speaking while she began to move again. Her footsteps slowly carried her onward while she digested both past, present, and future concurrently. Srina did not have the skill to immediately be at peace there was enough aptitude present that Srina might continue to function.

Maliphant truly had never been here. Her Sight was the only thing that made sense.

"I could not see it then…But I do believe that it was a test. To see if the spark could subsist in the presence of an inferno."

Survival of the fittest. Srina had learned her place, quickly, and one thing proved true time and time again. There was always a bigger fish. That lesson had come quickly on Kessel and without delay. Her Master was wise, an exceptional instructor, but if she had known then what she knew now she might have had a few words on the subject.

At the notion of her being…Unconquerable—the Dark Lord would see her breath deep enough to release a tepid sigh. Perhaps, he was right. So many times, Srina should have been erased from existence but somehow, she was still here. Alive. Present. While her enemies were rotting in slow shallow graves or preserved in the vacuum of space. Her eyes flickered while her hands moved to rest behind her back. Pressing, into her spine. "You are a father of many…"

"How is it that you manage?"

The question was an abrupt shift. Innocuous, surely.

 

[Darth Carnifex]

Where Srina Talon was an instrument of precision and restraint, Darth Carnifex was oft indiscriminate in the power He wielded so easily. Hate was His chief passion, and the burning anger within Him always yearned to be let loose upon all the galaxy. Many times He had self-described the anger within Him like radiation encapsulated in an inescapable reactor, and by opening the leaden shield only a small glimpse of the incredible energy hidden within could be seen; just enough to scorch entire worlds through sheer rage.

It was unheard of to see the Dark Lord ever expose more than a sliver of His power against any singular obstacle. Though His power was virtually limitless, the constrains of the Force itself as well as the body He inhabited fettered the true extent of His strength. Even when parceling His energy, the Dark Lord was still exceedingly formidable.

"How strange," Carnifex mused, His curiosity piqued once more. "The Force, the Dark Side, is strong in these halls. The powers of the endless dark were called upon during their construction. Could it be that you are suffering a reaction, one of the Force?" It wasn't entirely unheard of. The documentation of individuals experiencing visions in places with a strong connection to the Force was widespread. He hadn't expected something similar to happen to Srina Talon when He invited her here, but now that it had He'd vow to watch her more closely than He was already. If this was something else entirely, then it'd pay to be cautious.

So very intriguing.

They shifted conversation. "Metus saw in you what I saw then, that same spark. For as long as I had known him, Metus was never one to stray into foolish ventures. So I knew that he sent you for a reason, that he wanted me to see something that he'd already seen." Though oft estranged, the Dark Lord of the Sith and the former Vicelord of the Confederacy held a strong mutual respect for one another. Darth Metus had been one of the only Sith Lords during Carnifex's tenure as Sith Emperor to not be actively persecuted as a heretic, and had even aided in the destruction of heretical sects on occasion. "It was clear that whatever he believed about you was correct."

Continuing their journey, they passed by more murals and statuaries depicting various points in Sith History, as well as artistry that conveyed concepts and aspects of Sith philosophy. Their destination was a door set into one of the corridor walls, which upon opening led into a chamber richly decorated with exquisite furniture and artwork. Even from just a glance, Srina would be able to discern that every item in the room had been acquired at great cost and made of the most luxurious materials. It starkly contrasted with the spartan nature of the rest of the station, which operated well within standard Imperial aesthetic doctrine.

At the center of the chamber was a table, not as long as a dining table but not as short as one meant for personal use. There was plenty of space for the two of them to sit near one another, and chairs had been set aside for both of them; one larger than the other. Carnifex bade her sit as she asked her next question, one that gave even the indomitable Darth Carnifex brief pause.

"An interesting question, one with many answers depending on what you mean. My line has always been strong, the men of my ancestry having always been capable of siring many offspring. I am no different." He then took His seat as servants emerged from nearby doors armed with trays of water and small pastries. They'd ask Srina for what her preference of beverage was, whether it was tea or something more alcoholic. Then they'd disappear, leaving the two Sith alone once more. "As for the rearing of many children, that is left to the supervision of their mothers, nursemaids, and instructors. They are well maintained and educated well until the point where they can be trained in the Sith arts, then I have them transferred to Malsheem's academies to become true Sith."

Carnifex eyed Srina curiously, "What prompted this question, Lady Talon?"

Srina Talon ​

 

[Srina Talon]

Tag: Darth Carnifex​

Once again, Srina listened.

Carnifex would find her an apt pupil even though she had not truly remained in the role of an Apprentice for many lunations. She preferred it. To always and forever be second. The shadow of her Master was a favored place for her to occupy, moreover, because they were woefully misunderstood. He was the shining face for the public to observe. A full moon that their people had often worshipped, without question, and with unwavering loyalty. He was the one they followed. Srina was what they couldn't see—The face that was positioned away from the sun. Two parts of the same face.

The moniker of Dread Queen assured that it stayed that way.

Her head nodded slowly with the thought of her gifts reacting to the baleful energy that had been sewn into the halls of Malsheem. She could feel the truth of the statement. The Darkside was particularly strong, dense, to a point where it almost called out for her to wield it. There was no malice in the twining siren song, but, a simple purpose. "You may be correct. I've always been able to see.", she trailed off, lightly, but with pale honesty. It could have been foolish to freely give the Sith Lord so much information—But it was unavoidable. "I am Echani of course…But I am uncannily gifted in foresight. Even, for my species."

It was how she almost always remained one step ahead. Her Master had jokingly caused it cheating, but Srina regarded it as one more tool in her arsenal. Split seconds before slag might have torn through her she knew to move. She could see it—And acted accordingly. There wasn't always enough time to course correct but it was a benefit overall. "This is different. It's happened before…But it at the site of a growing Force Nexus. I thought that was the cause, a common plight, rather than something unique."

Srina also couldn't quite call it suffering, though, she left that alone. The Force was never a place of agony for her. If anything, it almost felt frustrated that she wouldn't allow her vision to align and let her view what it was so determined to show her. That was part of her stubborn nature shining through. The wintry creature viewed the Force as a tool. She would use it—Not the other way around.

At the mention of Darth Metus, once more, Srina could only issue a self-deprecating sigh. Her Master was too good to her and she'd hardly done anything deserving of it. She had been obedient only if and when it suited her in many ways. When it came to training or matters of state, they had almost always been of one mind. It was her loyalty that had been, and still was, unbreakable. Not her ability to follow orders. So many, many times she had turned Viceroyalty meetings inside out. "There are times when I think my Master may have wished for a less…"

"Complicated, investment."

Metus would have agreed with the assessment of her nuances quite easily. He was one of the few who could read her mood at a glance. Know, what she wanted, without ever having spoken a word.

Srina grew pensive while she watched murals pass through the lens of someone that had already seen them. She would turn mere nanoseconds before Carnifex did. The story they told was one that she inherently knew but still found the time to reassess. Her curious nature, hidden, and trapped beneath layers of ice was something that the Sith Lord would simply need to accept. The mental gymnastics that it took to understand her, fully, happened very rarely. Most didn't have the patience for it.

The new chamber that they entered was silent, save, for the sound of their feet on expensive flooring. His tastes, were he the decorator, were very similar to that of her husband. The sitting area reminded her of one of the many libraries he had cultivated over decades past. Not entirely for her benefit because it predated her in his life, but she took enjoyment in it all the same. Srina flowed into the smaller seating arrangement and waited for Darth Carnifex to respond to her inquiry.

"Tea, if you please.", she responded to the domestic staff waiting on her. It hadn't yet occurred to her that these beings were essentially enslaved to their Lord—But it was not her place to criticize in the home of another. Srina preferred her tea to be hotter than Tatooine, scalding, and in large quantities. Especially when engaged in conversation. Silvery eyes settled on the Sith before her, unaware, that her question had been entirely out of place. A new vein—Perhaps.

He had been the one to bring up his sons, after all.

The fact that he offered the more technical answer first drew a ghostly smile to the kiss of her mouth. It was there and gone in a moment. Of all things—She was not questioning his virility. Her host eventually got to what she really wanted to know, however, and she took it in with a faint crease in an elegant brow. The way he described it was so…Distant. Nursemaids and instructors? Her eyes remained on his while more questions began to turn. End over end…"You mentioned that you count my Master as one of your sons. My biological father is…Kind. Not soft—But not Sith. Darth Metus was the father I needed to survive. Does that mean I ought to call you Haru?"

In her culture, it would have made sense. Every elder female was an aunt, an elder male, an uncle. As wizened and ageless as Darth Carnifex had become? Grandfather would have been a compliment.

"I do not know that I could entrust anyone so handily with my own. Personnel are capable of being bought, corrupted, or threatened. There are times when even the Mother…May not be of sound mind."

Her question hung in the air. Unspoken. How did he raise his young in a galaxy that sought to drown them from inception? How could Carnifex-Demiurge abide by anyone else teaching them the core fundamentals of their own existence? Blood was a legacy. Blood was power, life, and everything else in between. It was what they would one day leave behind…And who could teach an Echani child to fight better than she? No one. Her head dipped for a moment.

"Forgive me…Perhaps, I overthink it my Lord."

 

[Darth Carnifex]

Had He the ability to smile, He might've in that moment. But no, His face remained an impassive stone wall. "Haru may become appropriate in time, Lady Talon." He then paused for a moment, crafting what words He'd next speak with careful, but swift, deliberation.

"Yes, I do consider Darth Metus among my children, though not by blood. My daughter Izevel married Metus a long time ago, and bore three children before she passed into the Force. Runi, Nyx, and Mór-rioghain. The eldest two took their father's name of Verd, and became far too enamored with Metus' Mandalorian exploits than I cared to entertain. The youngest followed the path of the Dark initially, but has strayed. Runi and Nyx have since died many years ago, I keep tabs on Mór-rioghain."

Carnifex spoke very even, His voice never wavering in pitch or tempo. It was the same manner of speaking one would use to recount the most mundane of details, not the names and deaths of grandchildren. The exact knowledge of Carnifex's lineage within the Confederacy was not a well-disclosed fact, and how much exactly Srina knew of these ties was unknown to the Dark Lord. He could be repeating information she'd long known or He could be making brand new revelations, but neither mattered much to Him.

"I demand only the best from my children, Lady Talon. Those that prove themselves worthwhile I take on as apprentices, any that fall short get sent to train with the rest of the Sith. My time is a precious resource, and I do not squander it. Joycelyn Zambrano has been the greatest of my children to receive my instruction, and she has proved her worth again and again since leaving it. Even when our Empire fell, she proved resourceful. All the skills I have imparted onto her have manifested into exceptional leadership, bold initiative, and an ambition to claim that which is destined to be hers."

Joycelyn had also assumed His old moniker, styling herself as Darth Vornskr the Second. She'd even taken His old armor, the armor He'd worn during the time of the One Sith, and reshaped it to fit her. She was everything He'd looked for in any of His children, and she alone had merited His full favor. None had come to equal her, let alone surpass her. Last He'd heard, she was rising through the ranks of a vicious pirate crew, undoubtedly on her way to establishing her own corsair empire in the wilds of the galaxy.

"But," Carnifex spoke after a brief lull, "You are correct. The loyalty of servants can shift, and a mother's instinct can often come into conflict with the destiny laid before their children." He eyed the Dread Queen curiously, sensing that something else lay beneath her placid veneer; perhaps a question she yet yearned to ask of Him but could not find the voice? How interesting, what could such a thing possible be? The Dark Lord endeavored to discover what lay at the heart of this matter.

"You speak of mine own children, Lady Talon. Allow me to speak boldly for a moment. The nature of these inquiries, do they originate from a desire to one day raise children of your own?"

Srina Talon ​

 

[Srina Talon]

Tag: Darth Carnifex​

Darth Carnifex did not smile.

The imposing Sith Lord expressed even less than she did, which, was ironic since it had largely been assumed for many moons that if she smiled—Her face might break. More tall tales for the younglings to be certain, but it had spread from one end of the Southern Systems to the other. As had the notion of her actually being an automaton, though, it wouldn't have been unthinkable in a nation that prided itself on droid units. There were exceedingly few things in the galaxy that moved as swiftly as a wagging tongue with a story.

So—She noted the distinct lack of emotion. The severe, unchanging façade, that would neither bend nor break before any measure of stimuli. "I'll keep that in mind, Lord Carnifex.", she responded in the same cadence with similar vernacular. One needed not to smile or be smiled at in return to recognize the basic building blocks of something that could have been called humor in an enlightened crowd.

The wintry Echani absently thanked the domestic staff that returned with the tea she had requested. It was blisteringly hot, exactly, as she preferred it. Were it any warmer it might have burned the skin of seemingly delicate hands through finely crafted porcelain. At a subtle wave of her hand, they seemed to understand and left a medium-sized teapot behind. There was no sense taking it back.

While the dark-haired Darth filled her in on his family history, she removed the crimson-lined robe that hid a long onyx traveling dress. It was styled in the way of her people, fitting, but with slits high enough so that she might move freely. The small adornments and endlessly elegant nature of it held the flair of her husband—Who seemed to think, fondly, that she required the very best of everything. It had always been his pleasure to dote on her. Now, more than ever, he sought to ensure she had all she could ever want. Far more than she required.

And yet…She had come to Malsheem, to Carnifex, on her own.

If she distanced herself from the question at hand and eliminated any personal bias, truly, she understood this method of child-rearing. Survival of the fittest. It cut the weak from the strong without wasting the time or efforts of more gifted individuals. She supposed that every parent wanted to think their young would be exceptional—and she was just as guilty. How could she bring a dying star into the galaxy? How could Maliphant? It seemed entirely improbable.

But possible.

Srina had done her utmost to keep track of her Masters children, but in truth, there were too many to count. They ranged from living, dead, and everything else in-between—But there was no way she could have recounted which among them where directly of Darth Carnifex's bloodline. Not without a data pad and a good amount of time to find the information. The notion that so many of them had been lost to a Mandalorian style of thinking caused the silver in her eyes to sharpen. Her jaw tightened.

There had only ever been one point of contention between herself and her Master. The way he held to his Mandalorian heritage, with both hands, while it had forsaken him with all its might. "My children will never know Mandalore as anything but a festering wound of nothing.", she breathed while lifting the teacup to her lips to take a gentle sip. As if, this was a conversation about the weather versus the annihilation of an entire people. There were very few things that could get beneath the feathers of the immovable Echani, save, for a chest-thumping beskar-toting mongrel. They were a people without blood. Without history, save, that which had been granted to them by onlookers. They were a scourge and a lost cause. Mayflies—That died out as swiftly as they lived.

Some might have checked the beverage for poison, but, the pale-skinned woman had no such compunction. Not here. If Darth Carnifex truly wanted her head there were many other easier ways to see it done. It was true that she had many other enemies—But if they managed to slip past the security that the Malsheem boasted, let alone, find it in the first place? They deserved to.

He agreed to some of the points she had raised, which, caused the fierceness in her gaze to dim back toward a tranquil pool. She knew not the instinct of a mother. Srina knew the fury of one. She knew the rage, the wrath, the endless will to destroy anything that was remotely responsible for—

White lengths of hair slipped over her shoulder while her head tilted. No longer, was she watching the room with double vision. It didn't shift and weave like a hologram on top of a static image. But it did have some level of attraction, an ebb, and flow, like the tide. When the Dark Lord across from her asked about the true nature of her inquiry she found herself watching a piece of the floor. Not too far from them. She saw a little girl, playing, on a pale blanket. With long white hair and eyes of the clearest blue. It carried with it the scent of decay.

What could have been—What would never be. That was the Force at its finest. Dredging up things that were better left buried. As if it had some point to prove or a will for her to follow.

"No.", she uttered, though, it was coupled with another sigh. Deeper—This time. As if it came from somewhere deep within that had been long-suffering and touched with indecision. Ever so slowly the young woman set her teacup down in the saucer on the table. Her hands came to fall over her abdomen and there was a brief shift in the air. A sense that something had been lifted, a sense of knowing, that would have previously been suppressed to the utmost. The lifeforce she had been hiding with the creative application of Force Clouding would become apparent. One became three.

It was just a glimpse beneath the veil. Anyone outside of the room would remain, deliberately, in the dark. Even her husband, to her knowledge, was still unaware.

It wouldn't last forever.

"I do not desire it one day in the future...It is now."

Silver eyes drew up from the floor. From her first and only disappointment as a parent. Silent orbs came to land on the face of the Sith Lord that sat not a few feet away from her in a delicate moment. If only—Because of certain undeniable truths. It was a vulnerability, a weakness, that no one else knew. It was a crippling state of being that could either be her greatest joy or her greatest sorrow. "…I am at a loss."

Another sigh. It was not easy for her to admit something like that. To swallow her pride.

"It began before the death of the Worm. Before Maliphant died…And resurrected as Darth Empyrean."

And he had. Died. The one she had come to care for with more regard than she had ever known had died in her arms on Odavessa. When she breathed with her eyes closed, she could still smell the scent of cauterized flesh and copper. Feel, wet, warmth, and meatier chunks coating her hands. Slick against the ritual floor. Enemies. Jedi, all around. Alone. "You said that a mother's instinct can come into conflict with the destiny laid before their children…"

No one had noticed. Even as she avoided wine at the meeting between Maliphant, Carnifex, and Ophidia. While she walked at the side of Darth Empyrean as if nothing had changed. Head held high. Back straight—Unbreakable and untouchable. Her words were born of the fact that the father of her children was no longer simply himself. A war waged within him of many wishes. Of many souls—And a taste of what it might be like to harness unlimited power.

Maliphant, by choice, would never harm her. Empyrean, could not harm her.

Their children?

She didn't know. That lack of knowledge…It was a nuclear bomb waiting to go off.

"What if the instinct of the father is far less evolved? A killing, one."

 

[Darth Carnifex]

"On that we are in agreement, Lady Talon." The Dark Lord had little love for the Mandalorian people, perhaps even less than the platinum-haired woman seated across from Him. While she spoke with clear derision, and her thoughts were bent towards the abject rejection of Mandalorians as a culture and a people, it was Carnifex that had gone even further.

Among the Enclave, where the majority of Mandalorians that yet survived were concentrated, they knew Him by many names; Dha'naast, Skanah Aru'e, Despoiler, Tyrant, among uncountable unsavory epitaphs. They named Him because of His actions and those carried out in His name. Long ago, He'd orchestrated a coup d'état against the existing Mandalorian government on Mandalore. By subtly enflaming the hearts of leading Mandalorian officials, as well as undermining their trust in the current Mand'alor; Yasha Cadera the Hell Wolf, the stage had been set for a quick decapitation of Mandalorian leadership.

This was carried out through careful execution, a seemingly innocuous maneuvering of military assets while simultaneously seeding Mandalorian space with assassins and saboteurs. When the time came, and the Hell Wolf was in the process of being removed from her position, Carnifex struck. In the aftermath, the entire Mandalorian government had been either captured or killed, and the city of Sundari reduced to a smoldering ruin. The Hell Wolf and some of her cadre managed to escape His blade that day, although some like Kaine Australis would be ruthlessly hunted down and executed in the aftermath.

What transpired after Mandalore's fall was nothing short of a targeted and systematic persecution of the Mandalorian people and the erasure of their culture. Carnifex broke their world, He stripped it of its name, He dispossessed it of its people, and He began to grind the Mandalorian identity into the dirt. He made it a crime to be a Mandalorian, and punished breaches of these new punitive laws with death. Hundreds of thousands were executed, and millions more would suffer a slow agonizing death through starvation and exposure.

Before the establishment of the Enclave, the Mandalorian flame was near to being snuffed out forever. Much to Carnifex's displeasure, the Mandalorian people survived His annihilation of their culture. They were, however, a greatly reduced people. Mandalore was a barren wasteland, irradiated and lifeless. Hundreds of clans had been wiped out completely, their histories and traditions lost forever. He'd uprooted their homelands, broken their places of worship, and driven them far from the cradle that had nurtured them for so many centuries.

"The Mandalorians are a scourge that has persisted for too long, their kind is a dying breed in the galaxy. When they are gone, we shall erase their memory from history. None will know that they ever existed."

He watched her then as the conversation again shifted, away from the depravations of the Mandalorians and towards something far more worthy to the Dark Lord's attention. Carnifex leaned forward in His seat, fully transfixed on Srina Talon as the veil was lifted, just for a brief moment. He sensed it then, and thus He understood. Srina's mind was not looking towards a potential future, it was looking at the present; to her own current state. That she could conceal it from not only Darth Carnifex, but Darth Empyrean as well, was another feather in the Dread Queen's cap. Though He did not underestimate her before, this latest revelation truly dispelled even the faintest echo of doubt.

Listening to Srina recount how this came to be, the Dark Lord thought back to the days she described. When the Jedi came to Odavessa, He'd taken the opportunity to break open the Eternal's vault of knowledge and take whatever He could. His transgressions had not gone undetected, and the Worm Emperor sought to repay this treachery with fury even as the Jedi closed the noose around the Worm's many necks. In the end, Carnifex made off with His ill-gotten gains, but was chased by the newly empowered Darth Maliphant, who, as Srina just stated, had taken on the new moniker of Darth Empyrean.

He'd not known the full truth of that day, He wasn't there to witness what happened to Maliphant. Srina had been, and knew everything that had transpired. Perhaps there would be a time to probe her further for questions regarding Empyrean's nature, but that was a gamble He'd save for another time. For now, He remained focused on what He'd just learned. "All Sith possess a killing instinct, Lady Talon. As you've come to suspect, it will not be the man whom you've married you will have to watch, but the parasites he's infected himself with; those dreadful specters of our ancient past."

Did Carnifex actually believe that Empyrean was possessed by the spirits of all Dark Lords that ever came before? No, of that He was quite skeptical. But Empyrean believed it, and the Eternalists who followed him did as well. That was all that mattered, that perception, and the legitimacy it bestowed upon Empyrean as the heir to a legacy that stretched back over seven-thousand years. Nevermind that before becoming Empyrean, or even Maliphant, he was but a lowly slave who'd tasted the barest draught of freedom and crowned himself a king. What claim has he that eclipses that of Carnifex's? Who'd taken the thought of the Sith further, expanded upon its teachings more?

It was sacrilege, it was an absurdity. Carnifex had sought to rectify this farce with a carefully calculated ambush following His theft of the Sepulchral archive, and it would have succeeded. He'd pinned the Eternalist fleet between Malsheem and an assault flotilla of Blackblade-crewed warships. They were right within His grasp, ready to be crushed and discarded to the void. On the verge of total victory...

An eternal curse upon Ophidia and her brood.

The mere thought caused Carnifex's hands to involuntarily clench, the muscles tensing. It was a brief micro-gesture, faint enough to not be noticed by some, but Srina Talon was far and above greater than that of the ordinary dregs of the galaxy. She might've spotted it, but she may not know the meaning.

"You entrust me with such knowledge, Lady Talon. I will not meander fruitlessly with useless words, I can only assume that you want something of me if you are willing to reveal such things. So, what is it that you want?"

Srina Talon ​

 

[Srina Talon]

Tag: Darth Carnifex ​

She did not know the true extent, the exact pains, of which Carnifex had taken to destroy Mandalorians as a whole but there was no part of her that disagreed. Time and time again she had been forced to deal with her abhorrence for the Children of Mandalore for the betterment of the Southern Systems. Srina had done what an Exarch was required to do. Swallow, her pride. Swallow, her hate. The Dread Queen had since been freed of that burden. The remnants of her people were safely tucked away in the Shiraya Expanse and absent from the public eye.

Mercy? No longer.

"They seek to rise where the Confederacy once lived. They have taken from me…", her eyes narrowed and glimmering flickers of burnished gold began to rise in a silver iris. For perhaps the first time the Sith Lord across from her would witness what lay beyond the placid mirror of beauty that the Echani so effortlessly portrayed. The intensity of her gaze would be overwhelming, filled, with something that had no name. Her aura seemed to blacken with singular purpose—An exacting wrath. It made her appear with the fierceness of a predator, a bird of prey, before it began to settle.

A face over a face. A monster, a demon, living and breathing through the form of a well-mannered and seemingly delicate, winsome woman. "Eshan still bears their mark. My blood kin, dead, at the hands of their orbital bombardment. Maliphant…They took from me, his eyes. Their every breath is a waste of oxygen. Every foundling—A waste of life."

It was a sore subject to say the least. Her countenance was deathly cold, but there was a level of imperious strength and certainty that dared anyone to bring forth a challenge. This was the woman that had unflinchingly led countless armies and fleets into innumerable battles. This was the woman that bore witness while her Master finally accepted the state of dar'manda and took a literal bite of the Manda, their ancestors, their so-called afterlife and drank down what little power it held. If only—To please her.

To prove that he had let the past die.

"I will not weep when they cease to exist."

Not at all. They could never atone for their sins—And Srina didn't intend on letting the remaining few that crossed her try. They would be wise to give the Dread Queen a wide berth, remain systems away, hiding with fabricated honor and an overinflated sense of self. But…That had never been the case. There were many things they would never grasp. Not life, nor death. They would never understand that beskar did not make them invulnerable, nor invincible.

It merely made their remains more valuable than their lives.

Srina could see when it was that Darth Carnifex fully understood the secret she had been keeping. It was pivotal. Precious—Because in that moment it could be said that she had placed faith in one that could just as easily remove her spine. It was something that she hadn't spoken of to any other soul. Living, dead, awake, or asleep. She had learned long ago that her dreams were not always dreams. Srina knew that in time her body would change to accommodate for three but until that happened beyond what a glamor and careful clothing could compensate for, she had time to plan. To prepare.

She would not make the same mistake twice.​

It was a relatively simple thing to keep the fact that she was with child from the rest of the galaxy. Her husband was very attuned to her being, so much so, that when he looked for her in the Force—She ensured that he only found her. She hid them, fully, within her. Part of her. Clouding all by enveloping their presence seamlessly with her own because of the eclipse left in her wake. Srina remained quiet while Darth Carnifex partially brought himself up to speed.

Her questions would make perfect sense, now.

"I am aware. Darth Empyrean is Maliphant…And yet—He is not. Empyrean tried to kill me on Odavessa but the Worm made a miscalculation. My husband was still there. We are bound, even in death, and that has not changed. He currently cannot raise a hand against me."

Srina paused, briefly. If ever there was a time that Empyrean would have taken her head it would have been that night. She had felt the ire of the things that lived within her beloved and knew for a fact that the new power he wielded overshadowed her own. Were it not for the dyad they had become—He would have easily ripped her to pieces. That was the part the Worm Emperor had underestimated.

His connection to her. Unless the Worm killed them both at the same time?

The ritual would never be fully complete.

Her unfathomable gaze flickered when something caused the hair on the back of her neck to stand up. The expressionless Sith Lord had reacted to something. She knew, anger. It was not the Force that led her to recognize the exceedingly subtle change in Carnifex but the keen eyes of an Echani. They spoke without words. Body language was the first way any daughter of the moon learned to communicate. True. She did not know the reason for what coursed through him unbidden—But she recognized it for what it was.

Regardless, he got to the point.

A light sound escaped her. Sweet, like fresh cream, and lighter than air. It was short-lived but a velvet sound that often had those lucky enough to hear it leaning forward to catch the faintest echo. Her laugh was strangely pure. Unblemished, by the blood on her hands. By the darkness in her heart. She found it a testament to her distance from the political sphere of the Sith Order that he could not guess what she intended. Or, perhaps he merely wished her to say it.

"I want my children to live."

It was what any mother might want. It was her prerogative—And she would see it done.

"I do not know what parasite lives in Darth Empyrean. I do not believe as easily as the zealots because my head is not so full of wool that I follow blindly. I also, do not care. I only know that something has possessed him and I do not know how long he can hold back the tide. Forever?", Srina questioned, her tone deadpan while raising a hand, as if holding some invisible weight. She had considered that. It was quite possible that…He could contain it. Maliphant was stronger than many gave him credit for, if only because they were blinded by humble beginnings. It was possibility, that brought her here. "I cannot profess to know. What I do know is the way Empyrean looked at me on Odavessa. I can assure you…It wants me obliterated in every sense."

"Darth Empyrean knows everything that Maliphant knows so I cannot turn to anyone he might suspect. I am aware of everything of import between your triumvirate. I know, the risks of coming to you. I know the weapon I've placed in your hands."

She paused and picked up the teacup once more. Srina did not usually speak at such length…But in consideration of what she was asking—The Sith Lord deserved her honesty. Unfettered and unrestrained. She had nothing, he needed. What number of credits could she offer him? What contingency of droids? She could not impart systems, nor, could she hand him the mantle he longed for. It was not hers to give.

"I am perhaps…Foolishly confident that I have not done so in error. I ask of you, in this, to be on my side. If violence comes to a head…I ask that you stand with me. Fight, with me."

If she fought on her own…Srina knew she would fail. It killed her pride and enraged her, but she was not in any habit of lying to herself. She had sensed the true depth of the power her husband held on Odavessa. It was more than she could fathom. An ocean of darkness that spanned from one end of her mind to the other. Endless. Maliphant might not have held the spirits of the Sith that came before—But he held something. It made him stronger. So very, very much stronger.

It made him dangerous.

Every word that left her...It felt like some form of heresy. They tasted of steel. With the exceptional bitterness of something that felt like a betrayal. She was loyal, to her husband. She loved him as much as any Sith was truly capable of it. More than that. Her intent was not to pit either Sith Lord against the other but to protect their children.

What choice did she have?

"Depending on the timing…If necessary…Fight for me."

 

[Darth Carnifex]

She had indeed made quite the gamble in coming to Him with this knowledge, and perhaps many others would think her a fool in doing so. An outspoken enemy of her husband, jockeying for power amidst the cutthroat intrigue of the Triumvirate that was held up only by circumstance; a house of cards that could so easily be toppled. They believed Him to be self-serving, to be wholly consumed by the acquisition of greater and greater power, that He only wanted to elevate Himself and cast down all others; to become a God.

And they were partially correct.

Carnifex did seek power, hungered for it incessantly. But they were short-sighted, they could not foresee what needed to be done to bring the Sith to the greatness they were destined for. Inane prophetics and false puritans constantly decried His name, bestowed upon Him so many pejorative epitaphs. None of them could see, He was the only one with true vision. He played the games of the Triumvirate for as long as He could stomach, like a galactic game of shah-tezh, sacrificing disciples to strengthen His knights, His beasts, His counselors, and even His outcasts across the demense. To win this game, one needed to be flexible and willing to cut off a piece to save the whole.

And Srina Talon had delivered onto Him a most bountiful gift, one that He had not expected her to give. Though He did not smile, she could surmise that He was pleased with her proposal. He leaned forward slightly in His chair, displaying clear interest before His lips began to move. "You ask a great deal of me, Lady Talon, but who am I to refuse you? You have come to me in good faith, and have shown me every courtesy. I believe that you and I can and will strike an amiable accord between us, one that will linger long after any ordeal with Empyrean has been resolved." Now was His turn to reflect the proposal back onto Srina, to ask something of her in return for His agreement.

She most likely anticipated this, as she was not a fool and He never once suspected her of being one. He steepled His hands together, the image of contemplation, an unnecessary gesture because He had already decided on what He was going to say to her. "All that I ask on your behalf is a favor, one that will be collected when the time is right. That may be tomorrow, it may be next week, it could be a decade or half a century from now. But whenever that time comes, I will ask something of you that I hold you to be obligated to uphold. The nature of this favor may be something in your possession, or it may be a task that I will need fulfilled, or perhaps that time may never come and you will never need to repay me for my services."

Carnifex's eyes looked into Srina's own, unblinking and smoldering with the Dark Side. "Agree to this, and I will steadfastly stand by your side against whatever may come for you or your children."

Srina Talon ​

 

[Srina Talon]

Tag: Darth Carnifex ​

Children were the future.

Srina came to the Dark Lord with several things in mind, though, she knew many of her acquaintances would disparage and belittle the decision. How could she trust him? How could she place the lives of her unborn into a cradle that had been built on the broken backs of others? The Sith that sat so cordially with her was responsible for rivers of blood and carnage. He was a destroyer—Of the highest order. She required that. What everyone else would find repugnant, Srina found pragmatic.

Her children would be powerful. Of all people, would recognize that. He thought her unconquerable?

They would be even more indomitable.

While she awaited his response, she watched the walls of Malsheem shift and blend with their surroundings to give the impression that she could see through them. Perhaps, she was. But there were things that didn't belong. She could see herself walking through the halls in the company of a few decraniated servants, though, it was the distant future. Srina could sense a rounded stomach hidden with dark silk and flowing robes. Inherently, she knew, the Sith Lord would enjoy even the smallest taste of what she offered. For—He now knew something Darth Empyrean did not.

Something personal. Worth, perhaps, anything she might ask of him. It was a small, delicious, morsel of information that many within the Sith Order and many outside of it would have killed to know.

The elegant words of agreement that Carnifex initially offered were what one might call "window dressing" to conceal what lay beyond. Srina was no fool. As much comfort as she derived from such an overpowering presence—She knew not to be, too comfortable. Not yet. They had much to learn from one another before she could begin to think of the nigh warlord as someone she could rely on. In the interim, her faith hinged on his word. On his ambition. It behooved him and any form the Sith Order may one day take to keep her alive and aligned with the dark.

The other shoe dropped, easily, as expected. It could hardly even be called that for she knew there would be a steep price to request a shield of the Sith himself. Not his acolytes, nor, anyone that served him. "All that you ask?", her words were soft, though, a knowing glance lingered in silver eyes. They both knew that while it seemed like a simple request it was the furthest thing from it.

"I would agree to your terms, however, you must know that I will not agree to act against my own interests as that would undo the very basis of our discussion. With that in mind…You would need to choose that favor very carefully. That being said…", the wintry woman trailed off and the edges of her lips quirked just slightly into something that might have been the very beginnings of a smirk, "You would have something no one else in the galaxy can claim. I owe nothing, to anyone. To have me in your debt for an event that may never come to pass…"

Srina knew her worth. Whether or not she actively participated in the clawing hands that vied for the Throne of the Sith mattered very little. She had power, knowledge, reach, support, and the very unique ability to see the larger picture outside of her own desires. Few retained that. Even fewer, among the Sith. That she came to Carnifex at all bespoke a level of confidence that not many could boast. Not unless they wanted to die a swift, painful, death. "Forgive me for saying so…But that is still an exchange heavily weighted in your favor."

She leaned back in the chair once more and her eyes softened, slightly. It was not out of weakness or the desire to capitulate beneath a smoldering gaze. It was something, other.

Something he could not see.

"…If you can abide that small caveat…", Srina intoned while her gaze remained level with his, unmoving, beneath such greatness. He would find her spine made of the toughest material. Unbending, unbreakable, even, while striking a deal to keep her children safe. What he offered was in truth more than she had asked for. She sought security in the event that Empyrean lost his senses. Lord Carnifex promised to stand with her, regardless, of what came for her or her children. "I will never lie to you, never waver, because it is not in my nature to do so. The Sith tease, trick, and invent double-talk riddled with falsehoods to mislead the unwary…I have not the patience for that."

"So…When I say that I will be in your debt…It is more than simply owing a favor."

It was a transition. It was a shift of dynamic within her sphere of influence that would have a rippling effect. The distaste between her husband and the Sith Lord would likely carry on but there was a chance that she could mitigate that. She would no longer be removed, but, a bridge to what could be.

Her actions were similar to his creation of this Ark. They had the same goal, in the end.

Preserving the future.

 

[Darth Carnifex]

His face again revealed nothing, but He was watching and listening with utmost rapture. He was deeply invested in what they were building together, it was more than a simple transaction; it was the foundation upon which futures were built. She sought to secure her own future, and Carnifex sought to bring about the future He envisioned for the galaxy. In the end, were their goals not similar, if not the same? Her children would inherit a legacy greater than all the wealth in the universe, the birthright to rule all creation. His own children stood to inherit the same, generations that would strive to claim what was theirs by providence.

"Debt is so crude a phrase, my dear Lady Talon. This is a partnership, a bond forged for the future. Our paths may lead us on different journeys, but we share the same destination. Our children will be the future." Though the Dark Lord intended to live forever, to govern eternally as a sovereign unfettered by the perils of death, He made great effort to provide His children a greater destiny than that of a lowly serf or fat regional lord. They were to become so much more.

He waved a hand, and a long thin dagger materialized in His hand with a puff of green flame. The stench of Dathomiri magic was in the air, betraying the origin of the Dark Lord's flashy, but simple, conjuration. "To allay any trepidations, you have my solemn oath that I will not conspire against your children or their descendants, nor will I attempt to inflict harm upon them. This oath I give in full sincerity, to be bound by the power of the Dark Side." Slowly, Carnifex drew the bladed edge of the dagger against the soft meat of His left palm. Black blood, acrid and bubbling, frothed up to the surface and began to pool in His hand. "Whatever I will ask of you in the future will never threaten thy kindred."

The dagger glowed brightly as the Dark Lord's black blood seeped into the blade, which blackened and became etched with geometric runes as the blood fused to the metal. He then flipped the shirk over in His hand, catching the blade by its flat faces between His fingers. He freely offered the hilt to Srina, to be taken at her own discretion. "You have bestowed upon me dire knowledge, knowledge that I could potential use to bring about your ruin. In the spirit that we've conducted ourselves, I offer you an object of dire potential. This blade is infused with my blood, it has the power to cause me great injury if used to do so. I entrust it to you, in the confidence that we will both hold to our commitments we've made here today."

Perhaps it would have been shocking to hear such words pass from His lips, and perhaps Srina was right to be wary of accepting any object from the Dark Lord of the Sith; regardless of what He said beforehand. But she could look well into His eyes and see that He spoke truthfully, and she could see His body and know the signs that He did not intend for mischief. He was being honest with her, He was being more than compensatory with her, and perhaps she could come to trust Him; the sworn enemy of her husband, the father of her unborn children.

Carnifex would not be incorrect to believe the same worries about Srina that she might feel about Him, but He had taken in the breadth of her intent and her desire to see her children's future secured.

He believed in her.

Srina Talon ​

 

[Srina Talon]

Tag: Darth Carnifex ​

It was a crude phrase.

It was also the only way Srina knew to convey the truth of what they asked of one another. She wasn't some silver-tongued politician nor had she ever been the most skilled in forming social bonds. The fact that she hadn't managed to start an intergalactic incident by simply speaking her mind was a minor miracle. The imposing Sith before her put it in far more elegant terms. Slowly, weaving the point of her visit into a tapestry befitting their combined positions. "…Forgive my lack of assumption.", she breathed, tactfully, assuming responsibility. Perhaps, unnecessarily.

Srina had no way of knowing how Darth Carnifex would react to her proposal. It was a double-edged sword in which they were both susceptible to injury. The mercurial mirrors that she had for eyes slipped from his face toward the massive hand that summed a dagger from nothingness. It was interesting, momentarily, how one with so much presence and circumference could manage to make any movement appear agile. The wintry creature did not delve directly into the Dathomiri branch of the Force—But she knew the feel of it. Her Master had employed it often enough.

The seemingly young Echani remained silent for a long moment while she absorbed the solemn oath the Dark Lord offered. Once more, she was struck by the dichotomy of his existence. A King, but not. An Emperor, but not. There were caveats to the thought, certainly, but Carnifex had always held an occurrence in the Force that was all his own. He had longevity and a breadth of history that few could claim. Knowledge, and the will to use it. Her head tilted while he used the dagger to dig deep into his own flesh. Sealing their accord with blood, ritual, and magic.

It was then offered to her.

Delicate fingers reached out to accept the blade, wrapping around the hilt, though that was not all she reached for. Placing the blade in her lap for the moment he would feel blindingly swift reflexes catch the tips of his fingers from the hand that the dagger had so cleanly dug into. Her lips pursed into a subtle frown, however assured, that Darth Carnifex would not have survived this long if he could not heal such a minor wound at will. Still. If permitted, perhaps by curiosity alone, Srina would almost gently turn his hand so that his palm pointed toward the ceiling. Drawing it slowly closer. "We are either both…exceedingly foolish…or walking on the edge of greatness."

Her other hand rose and thin digits began to move in the air over the wound. They moved slowly, weaving, in a well-practiced dance that would see his flesh and skin knit together much faster. It was not painless repair but a baleful mending that left no trace, save, for the frost-bitten aroma of her intervention. A nimble turn of her hands caused the remains of black blood to dry and flake before another turn dashed it away in an invisible wind. "There was always the potential that you might have been required to bleed for me. I hadn't intended that time, be now."

A lightness toward an otherwise potentially damning pact. Would Darth Empyrean, no, would Maliphant ever forgive her? For his sake, for the sake of their children, she had no choice. None at all.

Her ethereal head bowed down before the Sith Lord for a moment, reverential, and beautiful in the glom before she pressed a light kiss to his palm. Where the wound would have been. Where no doubt, his blood, would have rendered the pale rose skin of her lips down to nothingness. With her own gesture made, born of her ancestry, she would release him. Was it sacrilege to touch one so revered without asking? Perhaps. It was a response to a promise, an acceptance, of the dark. Of the potential consequences. It was not a game—Nor a play for power or political intrigue. It was so much more than that, something, that Srina had not counted on. But required all the same. "…My first child…"

"…Never took her first breath. Never opened her eyes. Killed, by the sanctimonious Eternal Empire in their pursuit of pointless vengeance."

Her expression never changed. The bloody red lightsaber that she wielded was a testament to that event—A moratorium for that loss. Her every enemy would feel her wrath, her pain, and experience it tenfold before the obviously humane woman granted them final resting. The guilty had been held accountable, and yet, she desired nothing more than to see the entire nation crumble for what it had thoughtlessly taken from her. "I will not allow that to happen again. Entire systems will burn at my feet before harm comes to what is mine. I will end anyone, anything, that sees fit to challenge that."

She leaned back in the chair and reached for her teacup once again. The sip that she took was with a faint nod of acceptance that Darth Carnifex had just pledged, formally, to stand with her against all manner of entities that might wish her ill. The Butcher King could very well be required to blow away entire civilizations in her name. What would he think, then?

Her vision shifted again. Younglings. Wintry in complexion—Obviously, of her line. They were floating square blocks back and forth between each other.

Playing on the floor at the hem of his robes.

"…We are in agreement, my Lord."

 

[Darth Carnifex]

"Perhaps it is both," mused the Twice-Emperor. He watched quietly as she reached out to grasp His wounded hand, turning it over so that the palm was facing towards the ceiling. She mended His wound without difficulty, for the gash was shallow and fresh. He would have taken care of the wound at a later time, it was after all a superficial incision, but He did not stop nor raise a word of protest as Srina Talon performed the task for Him. Nor did He make any effort to stop her as she pressed her pale rose lips to His palm, the cut entirely vanished with little to tell that it had even existed save for a faint silver scar.

His body was coated in such mementos, collected from a thousand battlefields spanning over a hundred worlds. With frightening accuracy, He could recollect each and every wound He'd ever suffered. Not only that, but He could relay where He'd received it, who had delivered it, and the minute details of the person's physical description. Normally, self-inflicted wounds such as this would not be recounted, for what purpose did their remembrance serve? Carnifex would remember this wound, however, not for who inflicted it or by what means it had been inflicted, but who had mended it with a wave of fingers and a soft velvet kiss.

Silence initially greeted the pair, their eyes locked as the moment continued to stretch. Then Carnifex withdrew His hand, very slowly, almost as though He were immersed in water. He briefly inspected the scar, not that He suspected anything amiss, but just as a curious reflex. Then He flexed each finger one at a time, then all at once, and let the hand gently fall back down to the table. The silence was broken at last by Srina's words, each syllable weaving a tale of sorrow and grief.

It wasn't the first time He'd heard such a story.

His mind recalled the Sith Sorceress Taeli Raaf , a powerful ally boasting an unparalleled knowledge of the mystic arts. Long ago, when the Empire was yet strong and undivided, the pair of them fought a merciless war against the Mandalorian scourge. They had littered many a field with countless bodies, their powers combined making them an invincible duo. But it was their shared intellect that truly brought the Mandalorians to their knees, their synergetic stratagems levying defeat after defeat for the Mandalorians; until it had become bitter ash in their throats.

It was during one of these battles, the two had separated to focus on separate wings of the campaign. Tragedy struck the powerful Lady Raaf, the bandit Kaine Australis had called upon the power of the Light to strike at Lady Raaf in a moment of treachery. Lady Raaf had survived, but her unborn child had not. Henceforth, Raaf committed herself to the destruction of the Mandalorians by any means, swearing personal vengeance against Australis for the death of her child. She'd achieve vengeance years later, encasing the errant Mandalorian in stone to suffer perpetual agony for all time.

"By our powers combined, we will make those that have wronged us suffer unfathomably. The Mandalorians shall be crushed beneath us, so too shall the Eternal Empire. None shall escape our wrath."

Srina Talon ​

 

[Srina Talon]

Tag: Darth Carnifex ​

"Given the circumstances…I can accept that."

There was something to be said about the inherent cleverness of a fool. It was better to remain silent and thought to be simple-minded versus speaking and removing all doubt. There was something about the Butcher King that would forever hold some measure of distant reverence. It was not the sheer power he held nor the wealth of minions that scrambled about to curry favor—But the sheer will to survive anything the universe thought to rain down on his head.

Even death, seeking to claim him, had been made to wait in line.

Srina closed his wound in an act of pristine respect. He would feel it in the way she regarded his person—The way she spoke honestly. Even if it didn't always paint her in the best light. She had already admitted her previous failing as a mother. Her mistakes. The Dark Lord could only guess how very difficult it was for her to swallow her pride and admit fault. If she had never associated herself with Kainan Wolfe, it was quite possible that her child would have lived. That she never would have been near members of the Eternal Empire at all. Nothing would please her more than seeing it burn.

The burning words that Darth Carnifex spoke of their enemies drew a tightness to her jaw. Aligning herself openly, fully, with the Sith Order would create many more enemies than it did friends. There was a certain sinful pleasure in realizing that someone else was capable of loathing Mandalorians and the Eternal Empire as much as she did. Even, if it was partially for her benefit. "Some…"

"Some will set themselves aflame. Long have I sensed something…", her hand fell to the newly made knife in her lap. The handle seemed to be made for her hand rather than the creator. It was sleek in design but that wasn't the part that caught her curiosity. It was the dull thud of power that pulled from it with even the mere taste of his acrid blood. "Something new. Change. It is not the grand fall of Coruscant from many years ago…But it is something."

Something—Was crumbling. Falling. Scattering all of that perceived greatness into the vastness of the unknown like so much space junk. They would have their victory. They would have their revenge. While her mind fluctuated on the issue of her husband, of this, she was quite certain. The pale Echani drew the blade up and let it rest on her fingers to test it for balance.

Perfect.

She shouldn't have expected anything else. Just as Carnifex had drawn it from the ether with a flavor of eldritch Dathomir power Srina let green flame consume it. She was not well-versed in that form of magic but she was familiar with it from her Master. Beyond that—She learned very, very quickly. Seeing the veritable juggernaut create the knife was enough for her to feel her way through the Force and understand. She had not deconstructed it, but, placed it in hiding.

If it really could cause grave danger to the Sith Lord across the table it was not something that she would leave out in the open. Only she would be able to bring it back from the nothing. "Tell me…", she questioned, gently, but with purpose. Silver eyes watched his every move. He could not smile or smirk as she did. He could not emote in a way that most could follow…. But Srina found herself with an acute understanding. "Why do you not seize control of the Sith Order?"

It was a two-fold inquiry.

Did he not want it? Had he grown accustomed to living in the shadows and paving the way for the future rather than his own personal glory? Or—Was in the presence of the Worm in Maliphant?

Was it Ophidia?

There was a delicate balance between the Triumverate that she did not quite understand. Matters of state were not things that she oft dwelled on with her husband. While his mind was open to her—He seemed to sense her reluctance to join the political realm and left her to her own devices. She did not ask. He did not say. "You have done this before. I am certain that you have designs within designs….But the Sith Empire did not fall because of a lack of leadership or vision. There are always supplicants and acolytes willing to loyally follow."

They would support him again…If he spoke it. If he wished it.

Srina couldn't be the only one to notice.

 

[Darth Carnifex]

"An Empire is a frail thing, Srina, the throne a seductive cage. I have sat within the center of the storm not once, but twice, many more times than any could dare dream." They called Him the Twice-Emperor for good reason, for He had sat upon the throne of the Sith twice in His lifetime. "My first ascension came in the wake of struggle, when I challenged Dranok Lussk for the throne. I had long waited for that triumphant moment, biding my time and gathering my forces. In the end, I needed none of what I had accumulated to take the throne, for as ever did tradition reign in the hearts of all Sith. I broke Lussk's spine over my knee, and cast him down the steps of the Citadel on Dromund Kaas."

Carnifex reached up to briefly touch His brow, a meaningful gesture. "And for that they crowned me Emperor, and I alone sat upon the pinnacle. The power of empire was now at my fingertips, and I wielded it like a bolt of lightning. But I was young, and I was hungry, so I waged war against the Galactic Republic to prove that the Sith were at last stronger than the Jedi. I believed I had shored upon the borders of my empire, fastened them against the Republic. My mistake was placing trust in a Mandalorian's ability to honor treaty, and they assailed Dromund Kaas while my armies fought the Republic. Those who I had left in charge of the throneworld's defenses were woefully inept, and Kaas City burned before all the world was sundered and plunged into frost and shadow."

"It was then that the Republic gained the momentum I had denied them, and they pushed up into the heart of my empire. On Ossus I sought to stop them, but I was betrayed by ambitious Sith. I destroyed them, but lost the sector. Saleucami fell, and then the gates of the Empire were laid bare. I baited the Jedi into attacking Mon Cala, to break them there and halt their advance. Diana Moridena led the charge and it was her that I fought amidst the tempest, but I was beset upon by the Jedi Council. My power alone was not sufficient, and their Council shackled me in unbreakable irons." He reached up to rub the wrists of both arms, signifying the time when He was at the mercy of the Jedi.

"They laughed and gloated, told me that I would be paraded before all the galaxy on Coruscant as the broken Emperor of the Sith. In my absence, Darth Vulcanus assumed my mantle, but the Empire was dead. Whatever remained fractured and was swallowed up by the Jedi and the Mandalorians." Srina would know of Vulcanus, the one that the Worm Emperor empowered in the days before the loss of Odavessa and the formation of the Triumvirate. "I was spared such ignominy by the One Sith, those hidden in the Deep Core. They brought me to Prakith, where I was granted an audience with their Dark Lord. He gave me the name Darth Vornskr, it was this name that the galaxy knew as the One Sith broke free from the Deep Core and burned the Republic from within."

"But this Dark Lord, Darth Sortis, devolved into madness. Darth Ophidia and I journeyed to his hidden sanctum beneath Coruscant and destroyed him. I revoked the name he gave me, and I was Vornskr no longer. I renamed myself Darth Carnifex, to symbolize that I was beholden to none. I then journeyed to the Outer Rim, and built the foundations for a new Empire. I had learned from my previous mistakes, and this new Empire thrived. In time, I grew distant from the throne I had made, and so left it behind. The mysteries of the Dark Side are what I seek, Srina."

He studied Srina as His last words reverberated through the room, "It will not be long before Empyrean makes his move, you know this. What will you do when he does?"

Srina Talon ​

 

[Srina Talon]

Tag: Darth Carnifex ​

She knew from the first echoes of a bone-shaking, rich baritone, that it was time to settle into her seat. Not that the young woman minded. He had promised her a story nearly a decade prior during a meeting on Kessel and former Exarch had always wondered what the Emperor of the Sith might have imparted if diplomacy had not been the topic at hand. She was a curious, creature. Devastatingly dangerous but with an edge of youthful inquisition. Srina wanted to know what came before.

Knowledge was often more powerful than any weapon and history was generally damned determined to repeat itself. Regardless, the efforts of those that sought an alternate outcome.

The only words that broke an expression of effortless tranquility were the mention of being shackled. Something darkened in silver eyes, burned her iris, and caused an empty canvas to emanate an almost aggravated sneer of distaste. Jedi. For all of their morality, they had been the true reason the Confederacy began to crumble. The need of the nation to live up to the galactic standard that included stretching themselves so thin that they no longer had the means to care for their own.

Neutrality was a dream. An attractive, inventive dream, but it wasn't real. In a universe of bigots and religious fanatics, such a nation had never honestly had a lasting chance because half-measures had a price.

The Jedi in their ignorance were just as bad as any Sith. Worse.

They coveted. They sinned. Passion drove them to the point of forgiving their lovers for genocide while pressing a strict code that made underlings restless and inept at dealing with societal pressures. Which…Eventually led to a break. Little bits of darkness, swept into the cracks. When it no longer became strictly duty to arrest and nail the Sith Emperor to the cross—But a lustful pleasure, to watch him bleed and burn before a heckling crowd. Srina knew now, what she had always known.

The Sith were, until recently, scattered.

The Jedi were broken…And they always had been.

"Many have wondered why it is that I despise keeping others in bondage.", she murmured after a long moment, the way he lifted his wrists, reminding her of things that made an already chilly temperament turn subzero. The solution was simple. Better dead, than a slave, or a prisoner. "I suspect…You do not."

Her eyes flickered at the query posed about her husband. If he now sought knowledge rather than title and prestige, surely, Darth Carnifex would comprehend her position. The temperature in the chamber seemed to cool by degrees while her eyes closed for a moment and she leaned her head back to touch the headrest. A dangerous thing. The willingness to take her eyes from the Butcher King who had the blood of hundreds, of thousands, for his truest crown. "I have never coveted any throne."

"The Confederacy could have belonged to me. I refused it. Time and time again. Even the mantle of Matriarch on my homeworld holds little appeal to me. People often refer to me as the Dread Queen…But it's got nothing at all to do with being royal, or, holding any sort of prestige. It is a misleading moniker to reference the hell I have and will rain down when provoked. They put a name to it, to me, because somehow, that made it palatable. Violence in the highest order…Pleasantly masticated and fed to the masses where it might be more easily digestible."

When her eyes opened there was a dullness. Barely expressed, but there. It was a form of resignation to what would take place in the coming months. "I will do what I must."

"There is no stopping Empyrean…Not until the plans in his mind reach fruition. There will be blood. I know not when, or how, but I have seen…", she trailed off for a moment, recalling, the whispers of Force visions that had led her to Odavessa in the first place. "I have seen that my husband will not stop."

That was one of the reasons she had come to Carnifex in the first place. Once Empyrean had an idea or plan that had solidified into reality? It was rare, that it retracted. Maliphant had always been ambitious but Empyrean…. Empyrean could make good on every threat. Every, murderous promise.

While barely lifting a finger.

"When the time comes…I will not be able to look away. I will not be an Exarch or an Apprentice."

A pause. The weight of it was enough to make the air feel heavier…Pressing down, unfiltered, while she came to terms. Perhaps, for the final time. "The Sith Order cannot afford to descend into broken chaos, regardless, of who is seated on the throne. We will not do the work of the Jedi for them and wipe ourselves out with foolishness. For however long…Empyrean will require me to rule at his side."

Her jaw tightened. Srina…Hated it. Hated, every bit of it.

Duty.

It always...Came first. Even if it placed her at odds with the man she had promised to spend the rest of her life with.

"…So I will."