A Dead Man's Remnants

[Subject 37]

[member="Sable"]

For a moment Sven looked at the dead men, shaking his head slightly. This had been the second time something similar had happened. He determined that they should probably stop taking others on these little trips, they didn't really have the manpower to keep wasting soldiers like this.

His head swiveled to see Sable touching the massive stone gates ahead of them, the Assassin quickly falling into a light jog so that he could catch up to her. The lightning hadn't touched him, either because the force couldn't or the blood that ran through his veins. Either way he hadn't even felt a tickle, though he didn't even warrant it a second thought. His father had designed this place, and that meant it had been built to keep out intruders, something Sven would never register as.

Not to anything built by Moridin anyway.

He came up alongside Sable, watching as her palm slowly pulled away from the door. Another quizzical look was offered, but as he stepped into place in front of the door there was a loud squeak of gears. A rattle sounded to their left within the wall, and then the ground beneath them shook slightly. The sound of a heavy weight beginning to fall reached out to them, and with a sudden jump the doors began to peel open in front of them.

The process was almost painfully slowly, but as soon as the gates had opened far enough Sable stepped through.

Sven and Sable stepped into a massive hall, ceiling stretching high above, marble lining the floors and standing as columns all around them. Within the center of the room was a fountain, water fluidly moving through what appeared to be a statue of a lithe woman. Sven perked an eyebrow, but did not comment as they walked towards it. Three doorways were situated around the hall, one to their left, one to their right, and a final one sitting directly at the back.

He left it to his wife to decide which they would take.

 

[Quietus]

Those same persistent steps continued into the hall and down the rows of marble columns. Sable's interest was not on how pristinely the tiles had lasted through the many years, but on the statue centerpiece at the end. Something about it had caught her eye and as the Dreadlady drew nearer she began to make the mental connection.

"Sven...this is my mother."

Sable's steps slowed, faltered, and came to a sudden stop. Standing as still as a statue herself, cold blue eyes gazed upwards at the carved face of the stone woman before her. There was no attention given to anything else in the room, not while the visage of Desdemona Shamalain stared listlessly back at her. There was no mistaking the unruly, savage beauty of the woman known to the galaxy as Quietus, though a vast majority of the galaxy now did not know this particular face. The one meticulously crafted in her likeness was of the face from Her galaxy where her Demon had found her in the wastes of Korriban.

The desire to destroy the statue was as strong as it was to continue gazing at it in wonder. Sable had known only disgust from her mother; a woman who refused to acknowledge their relation in any way; a woman who had threatened to kill her and her brother Sirada on sight should they ever cross her path again; a woman who had apparently been a source of affection for both the Moridin of her verse and the one here. She supposed she should have been more aware of this connection. A Sable had existed in this verse as well and it only stood to reason that she would also be of the same origins here. But how close was Quietus to Moridin here, truly? Close enough that he'd seen fit to dedicate a private statue to her on a remote planet where no one else could look upon it.

It made her skin crawl.

 

[Subject 37]

[member="Sable"]

Well, his brother had to come from somewhere.

He and Soliael had never really been...close, having only actually met once or twice and chatting a few times over holo-mail, but he knew enough to find a bit of logic in this. As far as he knew Moridin had never actually known about his brother, but the fact that he existed was in some way telling that Moridin had uhhh...cared for Quietus at one point or another, perhaps this statue was a mark of that. He had found this place important, and perhaps Sables mother was another mark of that importance.

"It's oddly affectionate of him." He said quietly, remembering the halls of the Palace on Byss. There had been statues of himself, grand busts of his own face and even carvings of his fights, but never had there been a dedication of another person. Never had there been a statue of anyone else besides the Dreadlord himself. Narcissism had carried heavily through his father, and that had shown wherever he'd lived. "We can destroy it if you like."

Sven knew very well how Sable felt about her mother. "Though I think we're better off leaving it alone, for now."

There was no telling what would happen if they did break it, for all they knew Moridin had rigged this entire place to collapse if even a single piece was pulled away. Better to leave the statue intact and find what they were looking for, then they could destroy whatever they wanted.

He placed a gentle hand on the small of her back.

"Let's find this thing we're looking for." Destruction could come when they were done here. "We can come back to this later."

 

[Quietus]

While attachments had always been a difficult concept for Sable, the ability to distance was twice-so. Such things were complicated emotional processes that she could neither understand nor navigate. It was as if standing at the final destination, not knowing how or why one got there or - more importantly - how to move on to other things. It was lucky that Sven was more than capable of showing her another way. If not for him, she'd likely be standing there for a very long time trying to process these strange and foreign thoughts in her mind.

Sable looked at her husband for a moment and seemed to process his words with gears that were forced to change direction. So strong was the pull of her thoughts towards her mother that the physical act of making her move away was the only thing that truly got her thoughts cleared. "Yes," she said slowly, the fog over her eyes clearing as she noticed finally the three separate doorways around the chamber. They came to a stand at the other side of the fountain, at the back of the statue now where her mother's eyes could no longer gaze upon her. Sable studied the room with both her sight and her mind, reaching outward through the Force towards the wealth of strange powers that saturated this place.

It had to originate from somewhere. There had to be a source. Wherever the source was there was sure to be something attached to it.

Her eyes passed from the door standing before them, to the left at the eastward archway, and then without a word moved off to press open the doors and follow the path they opened to.

[member="Sven Talith"]

 

[Subject 37]

[member="Sable"]

Sven followed after her without a word.

He felt somewhat unsettled by how his Wife had reacted to the statue of her mother. It had not been that out of place really, but...well Quietus was rarely brought up between them, and for good reason. Sven had never met the woman, and likely never would, yet she seemed such an important figure for both his wife and father. A frown pulled at his lips as they wandered through the open doors and into a long winding hallway. Perhaps it was something they would speak of later, that Statue would not just go away after all.

As they wandered through the halls Sven looked around themselves.

Ornate carvings hung on the wall, ancient scenes that Sven recognized almost immediately. "Byss."

That much was obvious to anyone who had seen the citadel there, built by Moridin. The carvings were murals in a sense, depictions of the great slaughter that Moridin had conducted upon his kingdom. The scenes showed hundreds of thousands dying, each one curled and drained of their own power. It was...just about as narcissistic as one might expect from the Dreadlord.

"A bit more familiar." He said quietly as they approached another door at the end of the hall.

 

[Quietus]

Sable gave only the briefest of glances at the carvings that so pulled on her husband's attention. Her steps down this hall were those of repetition of memory. Images and visions that built, one upon another upon countless more, of all the hundreds of times He had traversed this very path. She'd never seen any of it and yet she'd seen it all before. The fluidity of how the new and foreign became familiar and mundane was ... strange to say the least.

It was forbidden territory and yet... it was home.

This door, just as grand as the last, stood a veritable blockade of carved obsidian. Horrific scenes of the Dreadlord's reign carved in deep relief of the unyeilding stone. She pressed her will against the door that might've withstood the power of an entire army and listened to it groan submissively to her essence. Parting slowly, each side settled back into a mirror relief in the wall and the two walked into a massive, dark chamber with hulking statues at every wall. There at the center stood a massive pillar of bodies upon which the likeness of the Dreadlord sat wearing a pointed crown.

Sable's eyes, following the sensation of powers, immediately moved to the crown. How unusual - the man had never been known for wearing crowns, not even during his tenure as the Emperor and Dark Lord of the Sith. She looked to her husband for any indication of thought towards it.

[member="Sven Talith"]

 

[Subject 37]

[member="Sable"]

Sven couldn't help but feel that this entire room was ostentatious beyond belief, even for his father. Moridin had always had a flare for the dramatic, but this...this was something else entirely. The corpses, the statue, and then the crown. The crown was an interesting detail, and from the look his wife gave him she more than agreed. He frowned for a moment and began to look at other points in the room. He searched for anything suspicious, wires, mines, something that would be telling of a trap.

"That has to be the artifact." He commented as he pointed towards the crown. It was so out of place, so far away from what Moridin was. The Dreadlord hadn't worn a crown...ever. No depiction of him, no portrait, no statue, nothing had ever shown him wearing a crown. Sven frowned for a moment and then looked back at Sable.

"This." He began quietly. "Seems like a trap."

It was obvious, almost too obvious. His lips slipped into a frown for a few moments as he took a step forward, eyes still wandering about the room. Was there a pattern perhaps? A way that one had to walk up the dead bodies in order to reach the crown? He looked towards Sable again after glancing about the room one more time. "Do you sense anything?"

Sven didn't exactly know what he was looking for, but just walking up and snatching the crown seemed a terrible idea.

 

[Quietus]

Sable moved closer as he spoke, gaze trailing from Sven and back to the pillar. She studied the bodies in their frozen terror and burden of holding up the Dreadlord; faces twisted in pain and anguish. Curiously, these particular carvings were rather detailed, down to personal items worn by each prisoner ... or victim, of Moridin. The woman's brow drew closely in thought as she looked up once more at the crown and the man who wore it.

Moridin's face was obscured by his cowl, another strange point of detail. Why leave out his own face when those of his suffering were so clearly defined?

"It is an artifact," she said after a long time of silence, voice soft and wondering, "but it is not the one that has drawn me here."

Sable turned from the pillar and slowly began to make her way back through the doorway, "We must keep looking."

[member="Sven Talith"]

 

[Subject 37]

[member="Sable"]

Sven balked for a moment, confused about what the hell else they could be looking for.

After a moment however he simply shrugged. If Sable said they were looking for something else, then they were looking for something else. The pair wandered back through the doorway, Sable standing still for a moment in consideration until she slowly wandered towards another path. Sven followed quietly, his eyes slowly passing over the walls and floors, still searching for traps. Eventually they passed through another hall, and then suddenly the floor began to change.

It was subtle at first, a darkening of the marble from a soft gray to a hard black.

Every step they took seemed to lead them further into an odd sort of blackness, until eventually they struck another door. Sven lingered for a moment, Sable pressing a palm against the heavy marble, a pule of the force ran from her, and slowly the gates fell open.

Beyond the doors lay a room of all black onyx. It was massive in circumference, large enough to fit a small starship. Every piece of it was a dark, abysmal black, as if all light had been sucked from the inside. Sven frowned for a moment as Sable stepped inside. The room was seemingly empty, save for a small throne that sat within the middle of it. Unlike the other room there was no statue upon this throne, it instead sat completely empty.

He frowned a moment, considering. "Meditation chamber?"

The citadel on Byss had one, but it was far different than this.

 

[Quietus]

Quiet strides brought her towards the center of the massive chamber, head canted back as she took in the fathomless abyss. The walls seemed to crawl with energy, ebbing and flowing, content within a strange sort of quietude. Like the calmness after the kill. The silence of a holocaust landscape. She turned slowly, once and then twice, black robes swinging at her feet with steps that made no sound when they should have - absorbed by the essence of this place.

"Yes..." she said, brow knitted, "but I-" she frowned, moving to place her hands upon the throne. Sable felt no sense of fear or threat. No fluctuation in power. Just the same cool stasis of being. She felt nothing but its presence, the very same that had drawn her here.

"I know nothing of this place. Something is blocking the memories." She considered the throne and the weight it once held for Moridin. He'd crafted and sat upon many thrones in his life, each more retched than the last. Without hurry or hesitation, the Dreadlady took a seat and slowly as nothing happened the faint appearance of expectation drained from her face to leave behind confusion.

"I do not understand," she said sharply, frown deepening, "why can't I understand?"

 

[Subject 37]

[member="Sable"]

He frowned for a moment, watching as his wife dipped into a sort of...not panic, but something. Disappointment lit across her face, it was as thought she had expected something to happen, as though this room was what she had been looking for. Sven considered for a moment, watching as frustration grew on Sable's face.

The assassin looked around the room.

He searched for some kind of switch, a trigger, something that he could do to make this all...work. He peered around, and then saw Sable sitting on the throne. A realization dawned on him, a thought that pricked him almost instantly. A small smile bloomed on his lips. It was an obvious answer, poetic almost, very fitting for something that his father had created. He slowly wandered over to Sable and squatted down before her, the smile not disappearing. "I'll be right back, Honey."

Without another word Sven sprinted out of the room.

His trip took surprisingly little time, arriving in the 'other' throne room within only a few minutes.

He stared up at the massive display of his fathers narcissism for a few moments, considering. Sven weighed the options in his mind, and then let out a deep sigh. Slowly he ascended towards the crown, half flinching every time something moved, eventually however he topped the pile of corpses, eyes drifted towards the crowd for a few moments, and then without further hesitation he plucked it off the statues head. He half expected the entire building to come down, but after a moment of waiting, nothing happened.

Sven let out a sigh, then headed back towards Sable.

Perhaps his father hadn't trapped this place, perhaps he had thought he wouldn't need to. Maybe the cloaking device and the bridge had been enough for him. He considers this as he slowly wandered into the Throne room, approaching Sable as he held the crown with both hands.

 

[Quietus]

Sifting and tugging at her subconcious, every effort was in vain as she sat on the throne waiting for Sven to return. No amount of forceful power here would unveil the secrets carefully enclosed within the chamber. Not even any attempt to meditate outwardly gained any traction. The room simply contained everything, as if on lock-down. Nothing in, nothing out.

Or was it not meant for such things? Sable considered this as she allowed her gaze to pass over the darkness surrounding her. Moridin was not known for extroversion. The things he perused on an outward process were often only having to deal with himself and his continued longevity. He worked primarily in the moment, so thoughtful meditation seemed hardly fitting.

This was not a meditation room.

Sven returned with the pointed crown in his grasp, eliciting a curious glance from his wife. Sable felt her posture stiffen as he approached and offered it to her but not necessarily out of any anxiety towards the crown itself. If there was any trepidation about it, it was simply due to the unusual nature of it in the grand scheme of Moridin. A crown for a man who never wore one. She took up the diadaem and examined it in her hands, unable to sense anything more than the essence of Him through touch or proximity alone. With nothing further to go by she placed it on her head and closed her eyes to a strange sensation overtaking her.

 

[Subject 37]

[member="Sable"]

The reaction was nearly instantaneous, Sven wasn't sure if it was something that Sable controlled or if it was just natural, but as soon as the crown touched her head the room began to shift.

The black stone all around began to sparkle, and then suddenly sprang to life. A massive hologram, or something like it, jumped into being all around them. Stars, supernovas, nebulas, all of it came into being, Sable sitting at the very center of what Sven quickly identified as the galaxy. The assassin let out a half gasp as his eyes grew wide, an almost child like wonder growing over his face.
There were thousands...not millions of systems.

The map seemed to stretch to the very outer reaches of the galaxy and beyond. Odd little blips appeared throughout the stars, though what they were Sven didn't have the faintest idea. He was far too enthralled with...well everything else. The details of the map were immaculate, wondrous even. Every system was exactly placed, every Nebula was perfectly carved and situated. It was an oddly beautiful thing for Moridin to have created, meaning it likely wasn't just a simple map.

Slowly Sven looked down at Sable, wondering.

What else could this thing do?

 

[Quietus]

The power now coursing through her being was reminiscent of the Byss Nexus. The purity of its essence having originated from the putrid will of Moridin made the Dreadlady's heart flutter with familiarity. Some nights she dreamed of Byss and the sensation of the Darkside Nexus washing over her. Admittedly there had been a feeling of loss in the wake of the incident, perhaps even something akin to regret.

But the adamant nature of the Dreadlord's greatest Apprentice was part of the reason he'd chosen her as his heir not once, but twice. She did not need Byss to persevere. She did not need Him. She would pave her own way by destroying the path left behind. A road of broken cobble in the form of numerous artifacts containing portions of his soul.

Blue eyes filled by the illumination of the map culminating within the air around her, Sable slowly turned her gaze to take it all in. She watched her husband move closer and examined his figure walking through what appeared to be the representation of the Red Nebula. The lights glimmered, flowing around him like water and reforming as he stood nearby, his own sights landing upon a nearby system with a peculiarly bright glow about it. There were many like that, ranging all through the galactic system around them, dotted here and there at what seemed random places. Sable perused one in what she thought to be Mandalorian territory and honed her mind in upon the system with the enhanced glimmer. The map followed her will and quickly she found herself surrounded by the streaking of stars as though in hyperspace, the holograph zooming past to fly in through to the system where the planet Mandalore sat so unassuming. It was the planet itself that gleamed so brightly and as it grew larger she had the distinct flash of a memory.

Sable allowed the visions to swim freely through her subconscious as she meditated upon this target. Scenes of a great battle, of another Sith Lord who through Moridin's memory she understood to be called Apparatus. There came a feeling of need, of dark desire for blood. For brief moments she was Moridin standing on the battlefield, overcome with an incessant drive to find the Mand'alor. The why wasn't clear but the desperate urge to kill was so strong she could taste the tang of copper in her own mouth. The Dreadlady's hands physically gripped the armrests of the throne as the memory persisted in her mind.

Then there came a woman.
Unfettered rage boiled over.
Who was it?

They fought. Oh but for all the spires of hell did they nearly tear the place apart. Equally matched, a shock to even Sable who had never witnessed anyone on par with Moridin's bladework. Lightsabers clashed again and again, so quickly it could hardly be called a duel before she disarmed the man and plunged her blade into his chest.

"HHHNNNNN-" Sable gripped a hand at her own chest, keeling over on the throne as the recollection of the searing pain Moridin could not feel beyond his own rage tore through her body. She crumpled forward, the crown toppling from her head and to the floor with a loud clatter before rolling off into a dark corner. The Dreadlady seethed, clutching with her other arm to the throne to keep from spilling to the floor.

 

[Subject 37]

[member="Sable"]


Sven was at her side in a heartbeat.

The room returned to its state of utter abyss, black onyx seeming to eat away all light around them as the odd galactic map disappeared from view. It was as though a life had winked from existence the moment Sable had fallen from her perch, as though the odd stream of power which had been flowing through the room simply...cut off.

Sven didn’t know the particulars of course, he couldn't.

Even after all the years he’d been with Sable, after all the years he’d trained underneath his father, he still couldn't grasp the full breadth of the force. It was mysterious, far reaching, and beyond his comprehension. He tried to understand through books, his father's journals, even scrolls of ancient Sith, but to him it always ended the same way; confusion. The force simply wasn't for him, its powers and limitations well outside of his grasp.

It was a frustration, it was his lack of knowledge in the subject that so often pushed Sable to put herself in danger.

Had he been capable Sven would have been the one to volunteer to sit upon the throne, not that she would have allowed it. Still, he felt odd pangs of guilt whenever she suffered at the hands of the force, an emotion brought by his own resistance to its touch. ”Are you alright?

His arms wrapped around her to help her back up and onto the throne, eyes giving her a concerned once over as he tried to understand what the kark just happened.

 

[Quietus]

She felt the fire of exhaustion in her muscles, the inferno of the rage eating away at her heart and lungs. As though she had partaken in the duel herself, Sable experienced it just as Moridin had and she'd watched just moments before the crown left her skull as the two enemies quarreled. Fingers wrung over one another's flesh with the intent to kill while Force energies coelasced in a dual-absorption. The resulting explosion had sent her ... nay, Him, into the pits of Chaos.

And in the flurry of the fight's end she watched his sword go clattering to the ground.

"It's his artifacts," she wheezed painfully, hand still clutching at her chest as she collapsed, stiff and contorted in pain, back into the seat, "all of them, the bright spots. His memories of them are attached... I can see what happened... feel it..."

The Dreadlady shuddered in equal parts pain and pleasure, a curiously dark delight filling her mind at this discovery.

It was all here. Every single one of them. They wouldn't have to search blindly anymore. Sable held one of Sven's hands against her chest as she attempted to catch her breath.

"Do you know what this means, Sven?"

 

[Subject 37]

[member="Sable"]

He felt the fast and steady beat of her heart, it seemed to be racing, half jumping out of her chest as a mix of excitement, anger, and delight poured across her features.

It didn’t take him long to grasp the concept of this...device, not once Sable told him what had just happened. The artifact, or artifacts he supposed, weren’t just a simple map. They were something more, something that they had needed but hadn’t even known about. A small smile touched his lips, some of his concern fading.

Before, every search had taken weeks, sometimes even months. Sable had needed to concentrate and meditate for days on end in order to find what they were looking for, but now? With this? It cut out so much of the time they had wasted, it gave them opportunity, perhaps hope that their task could be completely before even his death. He smiled slightly and reached up, running his free hand through Sable’s hair.

”It means I’ll get to see the end of all this.” Sven said it with no hint of irony or sadness.

He would follow Sable into whatever she wanted, even if that meant death. Yet with this map, perhaps he wouldn’t have to. Perhaps they would complete their task, finally destroy his father once and for all, and then simply...live. It was an unlikely dream, but in a way it was all that he wanted. To see Sable step out from beneath his father’s shadow and become what he knew she could be.

His fingers curled in her hair slightly as he smiled, giving a glance to the crown on the floor.

 

[Quietus]

What it meant was that there was work to be done.

Sable was about to say this in rebuttal to Sven, but didn't. Something about the way he was looking at her, about the strange new glint of hope in his eyes reminded her of his mortality. Though she, too, would die someday, his was a far more short and fragile life. Sven hadn't said anything and despite not being able to sense him within the Force there were other things her own heightened senses could tell her.

The fact that his body had already begun to break down and that there was nothing she could do for him.

"Yes," the Dreadlady replied to her husband, the hand clutched at her chest now reaching out for his own where she could feel his heartbeat, steady as it always was. Smiling was not something Sable was accustomed to doing but she fixed the man with a rare expression of warmth and compassion, "yes you will." She slowly pushed herself to sit upright on the throne once more.

Metal rang across stone floor as the crown rolled out from its corner and lifted into the air to be caught by her other hand.

"There is much to do but the artifacts must wait. We will take this planet first."

[member="Sven Talith"]

 

[Subject 37]

[member="Sable"]

Take the planet?

He had expected it in a way, this artifact, this throne, whatever the hell Moridin had built here was valuable to them beyond all belief. There was no doubt that they needed this thing. The map that it created, the path that it could lay for them, there was no quesiton that they had to have it. Was taking the entire planet necessary? Perhaps not, but it was here for the taking. There was no galactic body governing here, no army, nothing, there was only those who lived here.

"We'll need the ship." Sven said simply.

Already a plan was forming in his head. This was always the easiest part of things for him. Sable had a goal in mind, a mission, and missions were what he was built for. Their Star Destroyer had enough firepower to level this world, but they had neither the troops nor the equipment to fully conquer it. They would have to be a bit more subtle, perhaps a bluff would work best. Sable was a Sith Lord after all, and with the One Sith fallen there were plenty roaming the galaxy.

"The local government would capitulate with a threat, I think." He mused for a second more. "They don't have a Planetary Defense Force to match the Destroyer."

Yes, it was clear Sven was good at this. "Won't be hard."

His hand slowly withdrew from her and he pulled away, digging through his pockets to pull out a com-link. The device shimmered for a moment, letting out a slight chirp and then clicked into life. The small man waited for a moment, and then Sven gave the command.

 

[Quietus]

Sable remained on the throne examining the crown in her hands. The powerful essence of Moridin was there, dormant while not in use, and she suspected that it's abilities were not confined to just this room. He had saturated the entire complex with his will and marked this artifact as a means of accessing and controlling it.

This crown was the key to their goals.

Without another word the Dreadlady stood from the throne and made way through the exit, walking along the adjoining hallway that would bring them back to the main foyer and its peculiar fountain. Sable stood before the third door, the one facing the north, and lifted the crown back to her skull. The reaction was immediate; the citadel responded in kind by unlocking the massive doors and granting her passage to the remainder of the castle.

"It will take time for the ship to arrive," she said to Sven as he followed, ascending a grand staircase to another massive hallway of pillars and statues of the late Dreadlord.

"The corruption of the local populace begins today."

[member="Sven Talith"]