Public A Feast Most Foul: The Great Sith Gathering [OPEN TO ALL SITH/ ATTN: ALL SITH]

[Chasianna]

Location: Approaching Fortress Vader - Mustafar
Wearing: Sith Robes │ Dark Cloak
Tags: Darth Carnifex Malel Mal'gurith Rax Tremira Beltran Rarr

Smallest of the figures among the Eternal Father’s entourage, the Sister was near the front, standing next to the gargantuan form of her master and God as he picked through the ashes in the fen. In truth, the electromancer had no idea why it was necessary for her master to pick up what seemed to her to be a bunch of dirt. Wisely, she didn’t voice that thought, nor let it penetrate the barrier of her mental shield. He knew infinitely better than she did, but it didn’t change the fact that the esoteric actions of a God could very often seem illogical or incomprehensible to the perception of a mere mortal.

Upon his command, the Sister followed her master to the Castle, there to join a feast most foul. This was her first time seeing the stronghold of the ancient Sith Lord, Darth Vader in person. To say the least, the sight did not disappoint. Taking down her hood, the Qilin immediately drank in the corrupted air, feeling the infinitium of the Dark side thick within the roiling currents of the Force. The horn on top of her forehead twitched as she followed her master up the steps, before the group finally arrived at the room of the feast itself.

There, she saw the Sith of varying creeds, loyalties, and affiliations, together feasting on fried Ewok and other varieties of foul, yet tasty meals. She recognized a few Sith of the Empire, including Acolyte Rax, who she had met during a ball on Vassek, Darth Cessair, a rising Lord, and the Lady of Secrets herself. She didn’t dare leave her master’s side, at least not yet. However, she did feel another curious presence, including one that oddly resembled a man ( Beltran Rarr ) she had fought with on Sev Tok, where she and three others had faced down the monstrous Titan of the Bryn'adûl.

The galaxy truly was smaller than what met the eye.

 

[Beltran Rarr]

Nox's attention focused quickly on a young woman. Since his arrival at the Fortress here on Mustafar, he had worked to keep his Force presence to a minimum. There were a few here that he knew he had faced in the past. His shroud hung heavily on his shoulders, increasing in weight as the alchemized material worked to hide his presence even more.

Still, the young acolyte ( Chasianna ) seemed to notice him immediately. While a little surprising, he felt he understood their connection. While on Sev Tok not long ago, she had stood with him, Laertia Io and Thirdas Heavenshield against the Tyrant of the Bryn'adul Tathra Khaeus . During that battle, Beltran had shone through the Force as he unleashed the full weight of his fury on the Bryn'adul war leader. In the aftermath, he'd expected to attract the curiosity, if not scrutiny of the Silver Jedi. But he had not prepared for the possibility that he would encounter a Sith here, who had felt him on that world.

It was not necessarily an undoing of his plans, but it presented a problem. From behind the hood of his cloak, his cold green eyes followed the Chasianna while the rest of him remained stationary. He had not yet decided how he would proceed. Perhaps he would insinuate himself to her as a possible ally? Perhaps he would ensure that she met an unfortunate end here.

It would depend on what options time and circumstances presented to him.

 

[Kascalion Giedfield]

​

The Devil's face remained still as he listened to the words of his former companion as well as the Kel Dor - Gnost Zym - who approached, though it would be impossible to see due to the mask that covered it. It was a gaudy thing that he had chosen to wear this day - at this feast where such things perhaps would be expected, although not universally appreciated - being an ink-black robe covered with a garishly purple set of armor. The mask itself was the drawing point, partly because of its design, but mostly because of the fact that the horns of the Devil's reborn self were absent where they would normally be visible. Retracted, or perhaps even reshaped into those the mask itself presented.

Either way, the mask did its job in drawing most eyes, keeping them off of the rest of the Devil's parts - namely his arms, which routinely and quickly slipped in secret into his outfit's many pouches and even his sleeves. What he grabbed, replaced, and tossed around could not be seen, if it was even anything at all. A parlor trick or something more devious? Did he even know, or was it just something he wanted to do for his own amusement? Csilla had left the man with a greater joy for his newfound life, and a more considerable fascination for illusions and tricks to bend the mind of his victims and compatriots - although this too was a distinction he now had great difficulty making. So, the question now was: what was Vinaze?

The Devil tried to find an answer as he listened to the spirit-man finish his piece, which bore a slivered taste of discomfort in its tone. Perhaps the sacrifice was both blessing and curse, though the Devil found himself almost incapable of truly caring about that particular aspect of Vinaze's situation. It gave Kavar what he needed. The vessel of Kascalion, to do away with the fallen spirit of that failure, and march forth with renewed purpose. Vinaze would soon find comfort and joy in his body, just as Kavar found in his.

“If you’ve brought what I think you have…” he trailed off. Though he had no discernible eyes, it was clear he was observing the container, “there will be much to discuss soon.”

The Devil nodded and too shifted his gaze to the container, a smile crossing his hidden lips. "Indeed, and I hope said discussion will serve as a reminder that those who...strive for heights beyond their true station and capabilities are often the first to fall."

His tone was ice itself, and the octave of his voice dropped to a low growl. It was unclear who these words were truly meant for as his dark eyes set themselves upon each face that had entered the room either before or after him. Some strangers, some known allies of his, and all of them Sith of varying skill and renown. Darth Bellum , Pom Stych Tivé , Khamul Kryze , Maestus , Chasianna , Malel Mal'gurith, Darth Petrichor , Rax Tremira , Kalt Bruq , Taeli Raaf , Darth Strosius . Finally, the Devil looked to the host of the feast, the enigmatic Darth Solipsis himself who was just as feeble-looking as he was on Ninn. But Kavar knew the truth, and with Solipsis - as he had learned - nothing was ever as simple as it seemed.

Kavar turned back to Vinaze and - after considering the still present Kel Dor who spoke of art - sighed heavily, "Perhaps that discussion will come sooner than you would expect, my dear friend. Be sure you know upon which side of it you stand. The same to you, Kel Dor."

 

[Darth Solipsis]

U N N A T U R A L

THE DARK VOICE | BROTHERHOOD OF THE MAW
NEW SITH ORDER

​

Hushed voices fell around him as he glided through the crowd, watching it part before him. The old man hobbled with aid of his walking stick toward the front of the assembly. His presence was met by a mixture of wildly different emotions and reactions between the radically different factions of Sith gathered here at his invitation. There seemed to be a common theme amongst the crowd, something they all shared and pondered amongst themselves.

Curiosity.

Between the incompatible beliefs from one Sith to another there was a common bond they shared, something long ignored. They were all beholden to ONE Sith Order, a singular entity long fragmented by squabbling adherents and inconsequential infighting between false idols all vying for a claim at the throne. There were very few who remembered what it really meant to be 'Sith', what it meant to be few and powerful. The Dark Side for too long had been diluted by nameless claims to the title of one among the Order, by undeserving masses vying for power without understanding. The Code was misused, the Dark Side spread to thin, it needed concentrated once more. The fractures needed tending.

There were many faces here this night, many whom were Dark Lords in their own right and power. From the Emperor Emeritus Darth Carnifex , to the Devil himself Kascalion Giedfield and beyond. From mighty Lord to humble Acolyte they gathered under this hollowed roof, within the bowels of the cavernous chasm under the ruins of the mighty Fortress Vader. He was most pleased to see so many flock to his call, this was good for his speech would impact them all. A new era was approaching, the turning of the tide back to the Dark Side as the scales shifted in it's favor.

The Sith Master stood alone in full view of the ravenous horde devouring the food and drink provided, his eyes scanned the horizon at the scattered bands of Sith standing amongst the crowd. When his eyes fell upon the Lady of Secrets, Taeli Raaf , the Dark Voice nodded in acknowledgment of his colleague. It rested only briefly on the Sith Lord before continuing it's study of the surroundings with dark grimace under the warmth of a genuine smile.

​

The Dark Voice raised his hands akin to a prophet or priest calling to his flock, his voice bellowing in a gutteral roar as the words fell from his lips. The long sleeves of his robe draped down, his presence radiated forth a miasma of wicked faith as a dark cloud hung over him. The Dark Side of the Force was with him as history was in the making.

"Long have we been broken, scattered, and mislead. Many of you wonder why I had called on you, what purpose was there to be had among enemies? What reasoning for showing face to such a feast of folly?"

The Elder chuckled under his breath, mocking the very notion of such a gathering despite being the prime architect of it's very existence. His right hand fell by the wayside into a rigor mortis claw in foul gesture, revealing the taloned hands of the wizened Sith.

"The Dark Side of the Force won a mighty victory over Csilla. Where the Brotherhood's loses were many, where the outcome uncertain. Half of the galaxy arrived in force to combat the powers that be, we did not relent, we did not falter. Even now fragments of the mighty MERCY streak across the galaxy in hyperspace ripples, waiting for emergence."

Solipsis scowled and sneered, stepped off in a slow pace with his walking stick in hand as he looked over faces of each and every Sith indiscriminately.

"The Light-Sworn know fear. They have tasted it on the tip of their tongues.. as Sith incompatible in belief unified behind the horde of marauders and cultists of the Mawite banner. For the briefest of moments we had unity, one Sith Order restored in secrecy. One goal in the devastation of the enemy. We mourn not the walking meat that we send into battle, their purpose was fullfilled."

The Elder leaned in to the crowd, peering into the very eyes of his audience with orbs of purified hatred burning with the fires of Mustafar itself. His cloak fluttered against the slight breeze that crept into the chasm, his presence akin to a cold collapsing star, an empty void consumptive and ravenous.

"We have forgotten the Grand Plan of the Sith. We have allowed ourselves to grow weak and fat from the spoils of war. The Dark Side is a poison that spread too thin becomes diluted, when it is gathered anew it's concentration bears fruit. There are too many that do not accept the burden that comes from being Sith and there are far too many wasting away the potential that could be collected in others. I do not come here out of kindness or duty, I accept my role as a river-breaker and bend Fate to my whim."

"As such.. I look upon the faces of each and everyone of you and see.. weakness. Trappings of power wasted away."

His teeth grinded together and a palpable bubble of seething rage radiated from within, dark power barely contained.

​

The Dark Lord of the Sith looked on at the assembled Sith Order, from the various factions of Sith belonging to one Emperor or another. He invited an orgy of violence to commence across the galaxy, a purge to bring forth the strongest. In this way, the Sith Order would heal and eventually the strongest could band together even across the multitude of factions for the unified goal of the GRAND PLAN OF THE SITH. A galaxy remade in their image. AN END TO THE JEDI.

As silence befell the crowd, a signal called out to parts unknown among the inky blackness of space.​

Darth Carnifex | Taeli Raaf | Kascalion Giedfield | Darth Vinaze | Darth Bellum | Chimera | Maestus | Gnost Zym | Darth Veradun | Beltran Rarr | Chasianna | Malel Mal'gurith | Rax Tremira | Vora Kaar | Darth Petrichor | Kalt Bruq | Darth Strosius | Pom Stych Tivé | Khamul Kryze | Jaeger Harrsk | Rynn Vizsla

 

[Maestus]

The lithe form of Maestus mingled through the crowd. As she glided on soft feet, her eyes swept the gathered. Studying them. Sizing them up. Very few did she know by more than reputation, and even those weren't anything to be enthralled by. Oh she had no idea there were those more powerful than her, of course. But raw power without vision was useless.

As Darth Solipsis began to speak, she came to a stop not far from him. She turned to face the gathered. She watched eyes and lips. She was intrigued to see what the gathered would give away with the slightest twitch at the corners of their mouths. The barest narrowing of their gaze. Perhaps even open rage. The possibilities were delicious.

She considered his words, and found herself actually agreeing with them. It had been far too long since The Grand Plan had been pursued. It was beyond time for the Sith to reemerge and stand as lords and masters of the galaxy. For too long, petty bickering and simple power plays had been the main course on a paltry menu.

She had learned from Csilla. Ah, how glorious that had been. The Warlords and the Kainites gathered together behind the Brother of the Maw leadership and banner to announce on a galactic stage that enough was enough. No longer would the Sith sit idly by. No, the time of the Sith was now.

As the Dark Lord of the Sith spoke, Maestus listened. Noticeably absent from her form tonight were her sabers. Not hard to see their lacking, given the sheer silken robe she wore. If one thought about it, it would almost seem that everything about her was carefully planned and selected.

As Darth Solipsis finished speaking, she turned to fully face the gathered. A casual yet elegant stance, arms at her sides, relaxed. Black eyes were slightly narrowed as they moved from face to face.

Waiting. ​

​

 

[Rynn Vizsla]

// Mustafar // Gahenn Plains // Fortress Vader - Exterior -> Surface Level(s.) //
Objective: Attend the Feast; Massacre the Guests.
Allies: The Death Watch and their (Neo)Crusaders.
Enemies: The Sith.
Equipment: See Biography Link in Signature.
NPC Complement: One Mandalorian Warband; Roughly ~30 Neo-Crusaders.
Currently Engaging: No-one; Open to Interaction.​

When the clarion call sounded, Rynn tore the amulet from around his neck. It was a rare and precious commodity amongst these benighted stars, but the Mandalorian callously crushed it underfoot. The value of the Taozin amulet paled in comparison to the chance given to him and his fellow Crusaders this day. Finally, after everything their people had suffered through - Vengeance was within their grasp. All the finest Lords and Ladies of the Sith were present at this gathering. Many had participated in the genocide of his ancestral homeland, and some even gave the order themselves. It was too good of an opportunity to pass up, even if it meant being puppeted by another of their sorcerous ilk.

He racked the slide of his Longblaster, loading the barrel with accruing lethality. One shot was all he needed, and the technologies woven into the weapon would do the rest. It was a disruptor of the highest calibre, which annihilated their targets - reportedly even going so far as to destroy their soul. In a way, it was a fitting end for those that sought to stamp out the fires of Mandalorian culture. They sought to steal his people’s soul, leave them as nothing more than broken shells and willing servants. Yet, the tables were turned, now. He would not only steal their lives with a single bolt - but their coveted chance at resurrection too.

However, these Sith had but one advantage in their favour. The Longblaster was best used from a distance, where the rapidly-depleting munitions would’ve been off-set by the lengthy slog through the terrain. But, within tight corridors? There were better options, to be sure, but none that held such lethal potential. In a way, that was where the Rally Master knew the rest of his personal armoury would factor into play. There were enough munitions strapped or clipped to his armoured figure to tackle a proverbial army. Still, compared to others of his kind - the Crusader started to think that he packed relatively light for the occasion.

With the humming weapon within his grasp, Rynn threw his armoured Jetpack against the Fortress’s exterior. They had taken the ashen approach, far from the lava fonts that spilled into a gushing reservoir of magma. There were no railings, nor Sith in sight. But, the Crusaders had known they were there. The shadows of their towering vessels were seen nearby, or snippets here and there. One could also assume that a measure of the Sorcerer’s guardians were deployed nearby, likely scouring their surroundings for signs of hostility. Such a level of awareness was expected at such a gathering, especially when the Sith’s sorcerous Order revolved around the concepts of vanity and betrayal.

As the rest of the Warband took their places, a Silver-armoured Mandalorian stalked forth and began installing a small device on the Fortress’ blackened rampart. In preparation for this grand spectacle, the Death Watch managed to procure several Vape Charges from the Black Market, which in turn originated from somewhere within Chiss space. As these Sith toasted to their supposed victory over the Ascendancy and their defenders, Rynn thought it would be poetic justice that their technologies would defile this holy site. Just another sin to add to their ever-growing tally, the Rally Master mused. When the Silver-armoured figure finished setting the charge, they pulsed a series of runic symbols across their localized and encrypted battlenet.

The warning had been given, and all within the Warband stood out of the device’s destructive reach. When the appointed moment arrived, the device exploded - vaporizing a portion of the Fortress’ wall with its hellish fury. Their ingress had been made, and without wanting to spoil the advantage that the suddenness of their arrival bequeathed, the Rally Master ordered his Crusaders into the smouldering breach. With their weapons raised, they slowly progressed through the upper levels, engaging what vestiges of power could be found. The violence of their arrival was undoubtedly noticed by those within the bowels of the Fortress as well. The sound of discharging weapons was matched only in octave by the agonized sounds of screaming Cultists - as they were reduced to smouldering piles of atomic dust.

Even the war cries that echoed from the throats of many Mandalorians were drowned out by the sudden eruption of violence. However, through the moments of cessation, one could hear the hoarse cries of these helmeted Crusaders. Blood, for blood, they cried. Tal par tal, in their barbaric tongue. Those words found themselves rising from the Rally Master’s throat unbidden as the Crusader advanced into the Fortress’s vaulted corridors. His weapon was shouldered and discharging its plasmatic fury at every target that presented itself. Cultist, Guardian, Acolyte - it didn’t matter. They all met the same destructive fate. Everything and Everyone that wasn’t shrouded in the armour of Mandalore was an enemy and would thus be struck down. ​

Or they would die valiantly in the attempt.​

~-~*~-~
Relevancy Taglist:
Darth Solipsis | Taeli Raaf | Kascalion Giedfield | Darth Vinaze | Darth Bellum | Chimera | Maestus | Gnost Zym | Darth Veradun | Beltran Rarr | Chasianna | Malel Mal'gurith | Rax Tremira | Vora Kaar | Darth Petrichor | Kalt Bruq | Darth Strosius | Pom Stych Tivé | Khamul Kryze | Jaeger Harrsk | Darth Carnifex |​

 

[Chimera]

悪魔
H I G H W A R L O R D
I N F E R N A L

​

The resounding words of the Dark Voice echoed out over the crowd, cast with the certainly granted only through absolution and the acceptance of inevitable catastrophe. Summons had reached him in the dark fringes he dwelled, where only the infernal light of his judgment sustained life amongst the ash of his own design. Creeping on the periphery where the disciplined suppression of his Presence would go unnoticed as the others bathed in their own, rivaling one another in silent exertion of power, Darth Solipsis's heralding of the apocalypse ushered the dismantling of his stealth.

Black smoke hissed as it untangled from his frame, exposing the paradoxical nature of his form, poised there in silent brood upon the threshold of the overlook. Cast in the shade of the drama and shrouded by natural blues, for the moment only glints of the light painting the gathering reflected in the deadened lenses of his opalite eyes. These swept the crowd as his hooded head waved over the sea of the same, appraising the situation with a judgment of characteristic silence. Such a declaration would not go without challenge or rise from the Sith Lords corralled into one locale and once the infighting began, Chimera suspected external forces would descend upon them as carrion birds, preying upon the remaining bodies and meting them a swift end, also.

It was in his best interest to avoid this place and to return to the borders of civilization, yet it was in the interest of his fellow Warlords that he be here.

The faint rattle of chain sliding down his armored forearm chorused from his obscured position as he steadied himself, preparing for whatever it was to come. Whoever was closest to him was weighed in his gaze, appraised, for their worth in the grand scheme of things. Who would die the swiftest? Who would flee the terror to come? Who would dare have the honor to step forth and challenge the Dark Voice directly?

Perhaps this flock was best learned by means of example.

Crackling embers rose in dancing sway once his hand situated itself upon a coil of his odd weapon, mirrored by the humming of heat behind his unnatural eyes.

Dancing flame emerged, bringing his gaze to inferno, as he watched on in silent anticipation, awaiting the march of the pawns.



ALLIES | INFERNO | WotS | BotM | Kascalion Giedfield | Khamul Kryze | Darth Vinaze | Darth Solipsis | Maestus
FOES | EVERYONE ELSE​

​

 

[Gnost Zym]

FORTRESS VADER
MUSTAFAR

​

"What's life without a little risk?"

Gnost did not seem bothered by Kascalion Giedfield or his veiled threat. Then again the kel dor were not exactly known for their expressive features. He followed Darth Vinaze to get a better view of the speech. Not so much its content for he'd already dreamed what Darth Solipsis would say last night. Zym wanted to be closer to the maelstrom of competing emotions as those gathered in attendance processed such an inflammatory declaration for the first time. Both their outrage and passions nourished his spirit.

"I hope it's nothing too important," he glanced down at Kascalion's artifact, "After all...you know how these parties can get."

As if on cue there was a violent tremor when the Death Watch mandalorians breached Fortress Vader's outer walls. Zym did not even flinch. This attack was another echo of his exquisite nightmares. Certainly he could have warned someone. Perhaps even averted the matter entirely. Then again what was a Sith gathering without some light entertainment? Bloodsport seemed only fitting. So Gnost remained silent and allowed matters to transpire just as they were always meant to.

"I think I'll call this one Night of a Thousand Tears."

He was already painting the battle in his mind. Factionalism and ideology were burned away by violence's purity. Zym claimed allegiance to none. Only his own interests mattered. Yet the Sith valued alliances of mutual gain. How else could he exceed the limitations those like Kascalion saw as immutable? Gnost would master his own destiny. He must. Too far and too late to turn back now.

 

[Beltran Rarr]

Nox heard the charges go off, the ensuing blasts shaking the Fortress to it's core. The sounds of battle began to fill the halls as whoever was attacking breached the massive structure. Nox was not one to give credit where it wasn't due. In truth, he thought Darth Solipsis a fool, just like the rest of the Sith in this place. But even he had admire the beautiful treachery with which this party had begun.

From within his shroud's sleeve, Nox produced his lightsaber and ignited the sunset orange blade. He had yet to decide who he would support in this coming battle. One Sith? Several? None? Perhaps he would even act in support of the invaders. It truly depended on what happened next. As far as he was concerned, there wasn't a single scenario-barring his own death-that wouldn't further his goals in some manner.

He stepped back into the shadows, using the Force to blur his figure somewhat. Only his blade would be easily seen as he stood, waiting and watching. Once more his attention drifted to the young woman at Darth Carnifex 's side ( Chasianna ).

"Tell me, young one." His voice would whisper in her ear, like a ghost reaching out from the Netherworld and heard only by her alone. "Where do your true allegiances lay?"

ALLIES: TBD
ENEMIES: TBD

 

[Darth Carnifex]

Carnifex's entourage approached the portcullis, the Nightsister Matron Pom Stych Tivé awaiting them. With a wave of his hand, he bid her join them as they passed through the threshold and into the darkness of the keep. Once members of the Knights of Ren had made their lair in the fortress, themselves adherents of the Dark Side with a special reverence for the ancient Vader. What remained of their order was the barest of scraps, not that Carnifex would mourn their apparent demise.​

​

They were poor heirs to the legacy of a Sith like Vader, in any case, they were not even Sith.​

​

He spied the hooded figure of Taeli Raaf also entering the castle. Their relationship had become strained ever since he had partaken in the attack on Csilla, a move when she had heavily criticized both vocally and by refusing to read his communications for several days. He would endeavor to mend that divide later, but for now, he needed his attention to be sharp and clear as they entered what was ostensibly a viper's nest. ​

​

"Stay close to me," Carnifex huskily whispered to his companions, "This is not a welcome gathering, remain vigilant."​

​

Carnifex and his group walked through the various other groups which had congregated in the great hall. Members of many other Sith factions were in attendance, including those of the Warlords, the Eternals of the Worm, and even members of the Empire he had once ruled over as Emperor. He wondered what they thought when they saw him, their former sovereign, standing tall amidst enemies on all sides. He had the briefest sliver of hope that it inspired some measure of confidence in those who might have faltered in his absence.​

​

Regardless, his mind was attuned to the future.​

​

To the Kainate.​

​

Their host called all of the assembled to attention and began assailing them with a prepared speech regarding this very congregation and the events leading up to it, chiefly the aforementioned attack on Csilla. Carnifex had heard similar rhetoric before, he had even penned some himself when he was Emperor, so this did not have the desired effect on him as it would a less seasoned acolyte. But, perhaps that was the point, this was to entice new followers into the faith and embolden their conviction, not convince a wizened elder like himself.​

​

His eyes darted to the left, there was movement in the shadows. He could smell something. Not a smell in the traditional sense, this had nothing to do with his nose but had everything to do with his senses in the Force, and there was something that didn't belong.​

​

Then the fortress rumbled, and Carnifex had his answer.​

​

"It appears the hors d'oeuvre have arrived," remarked the Butcher King, spoken just as the shadow under his feet appeared to melt away and split off into over a dozen slivers of darkness. Those slivers rushed across the floors and walls, traversing the distance between the great hall and the point of incursion within a matter of moments. Everything that passed before them was transmitted to Carnifex through the mystical link they shared, and so Carnifex quite literally saw all and knew all from what these shadows observed.​

​

"Heh," an almost uncharacteristic display of amusement from the normally stoic and emotionless Dark Lord, "Mandalorians."​

​

Not entirely unexpected, if one was to be serious. With so many Sith in congregation in one isolated location, it was almost certain that their location would have become known to those Mandalorians seeking retribution for the destruction of their people. Carnifex had his suspicion that one among the Sith could have given them that information, perhaps even their own host, but he only had his own intuition as a basis for that.​

​

Nevertheless, Carnifex's hand briefly touched a device clipped at his waist, where the chain codes of the most notable deceased Mandalorian tribal chieftains, military leaders, and spiritual guides had been deposited.​

​

There was always room for more to be added.​

​

Chasianna | Darth Solipsis | Rynn Vizsla ​

 

[Pom Stych Tivé]

the M I S T R E S S
M A L C O N T E N T​

This Mistress of Malcontent believes in the power of Unification. The Nightsisters know this. They do not belong to the Sith, nor the CIS first and foremost. Nightsisters heed to the call of their blood kindred before any other allegiance. She heard the words uttered by their host, Darth Solipsis as had been rendered by many Sith before; but the narcissism and the condescending thoughts which weave into the tone of many Sith, of most honorable and of lowly station alike, always overturns such possibility.

She could FEEL the vanity in judgmental glances from strangers present. For this reason, as many attempts before in the past, she knew no such call would be fruitful. In an instant, she lost interest, completely.

"Is this what I've been summoned for?" she snapped, bidding Darth Carnifex a minor annoyed glance. 'This woman has things to tend to!' These things benefit him!

Carnifex is the voice for the Kainate, and Pom finds political delegation boring. She reached out and grabbed a handful of meat from the spread upon the table, and through a mere twirl of her other wrist, she slid back into the porthole by which she had only minutes before arrived.

The porthole enveloped her…
Her face re-appeared behind the shroud for just a moment…
"Oh, Darling, ( Darth Carnifex ) some of your non-friends have arrived."
…and the porthole closed upon her exit.
​

 

[Milla Kryst]

Location: Mustafar // Gahenn Plains // Fortress Vader - Exterior -> Surface Level(s.)
Interactions: TBD
Objective: Partake in the Buffet
Allies: Death Watch Crusade
Enemies: Sith

​

The moment of their reckoning. The Sith have long had their victories and triumphs, in their little union of evil, thinking they were on the cusp of some galactic-wide influence or domination. They have caused waves and waves of destruction and death, and their only response is laughter, or expectations of the future. They believe they fear nothing, that the only thing coming for them is reward. But the thing is, everything a Sith destroys, never really dies. The Jedi know this, and that is why they try to indoctrinate and and warp minds. The Sith only destroy, stomping their boot into the face of everything and everyone they kill. Because that is what they believe, that the only thing we deserve is to be under their heal. But unfortunately for them, everything they wipe out, becomes a martyr to the definition. And the more they destroy, the more a power grows to equally.... put them in their own grave. For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction. Where they leave death, life only prevails. You can kill a Mandalorian, but you can not destroy their ideals or culture. The Chiss merely losing their homeworld is not enough to erase them from this galaxy, as Rynn continues to show their culture is alive and well, utilizing some of their great equipment, to bring ruin to their own eradicators.

Milla checked her weapon, ensuring that it was cleaned properly and wouldn't break. It was an older-style disrupter rifle, which some wood from another planet. It wasn't a long-range rifle, like Rynn's, but it was more meant for medium range, though it could handle a farther range just as well. The key difference was that hers fired in a quicker succession, however each bolt required another trigger pull. This was the tool she chose for the Sith. For every life they take, she will take one of theirs. And wouldn't you know it? There was a hefty backlog. She was never the expert elite, but her heart showed her true skill; She was shoulder to shoulder with Rynn, and she no longer needed to prove herself a Mandalorian. Clan Kryst, a name bestowed by her adopter and leader, proving her worth to any other Mandalorian, who gave an ounce of respect to the rally master clad in a rusted orange helm. She was here not for Rynn, not for her brothers and sisters beside her, but for those that had fallen, been tortured and massacred, at the hands of these vile monsters. They who tried everything to eradicate what Mandalorian is. Those who left their home a rotting corpse of its former self, disrespecting every clansmen ever buried there. Every hero, every parent, and every creed. What more could we do but prove that they utterly and ultimately failed at their greatest challenge?

"KOTE, DARASUUM KOTE. TE RACIN KA'RA JUAAN KOTE," Milla yelled as Rynn Vizsla started firing. She started firing her rifle along with him. Clad in her new shining, silver beskar'gam, and the symbol of her clan. She had chosen to step away from combat, to more better Death Watch Crusade, but it was necessary to attend this buffet. The Mandalorians had returned, not just to declare their gasp of life, but to change the laws that governed the very galaxy. The time of the Sith were over, the clock had started ticking, and they would eventually be forced into their own hovels of purgatory as they did the Mandalorians. An eternal, never-ending war, that we prepared to fight for at every turn, for every tooth and nail. Until the bitter end. Glory Eternal. This isn't vengeance, this is punishment.

​

​

​

 

[Jair Ordo]

S H O W S T O P P E R
MUSTAFAR
RIFLE | VAMBRACES | LIGHTSABER | JETPACK
TO ENGAGE: OPEN
ALLIES: Milla Kryst | Rynn Vizsla

The Sith gathered once again.

When they gather all in one place, the Crusaders erupt in a burning passion of rage and revenge. They hunger, crave the feeling of Sith falling to their hands. The same could be said for Jair. He shared a hatred for the Sith with the rest of Death Watch. His hatred gave him an outlet for his anger and in turn, a goal to constantly pursue.

The lava pits bubbled out from the terrain. The surrounding air was blazing hot and gravely. Without the environmental inner lining of the armor, Jair would have passed out due to a heat stroke. However, the feeling of warm air brushing against him was canceled out but the interwoven feeling of cold. The darkness that radiated from the fortress gave him the internal feeling of panic. It was a reflex from his past, to always perceive the surrounding cool of the Sith. He never feared them, the feeling just helped him recognize when he should stay alert.

The Warband stood vigilantly behind the Rally Master, Rynn Vizsla . He had fought beside his brother in previous engagements against the Sith, so he was a reliable ally to trust when the situation got stressful. He and one other Mandalorian for which he did not recognize led the assault against the massive structure that stood before them. A vape charge sat in the hand of the unknown Mandalorian, and once placed upon the wall of the Fortress, had begun to get ready to blow. They were signaled to get back, and with a quick backpedal Jair was out of the blast range. The countdown began to cycle and eventually the surrounding wall where the charge was placed evaporated instantly. He was shocked at the technology that he had never witnessed, noting its impressive power could be a powerful addition to his own arsenal. Vizsla ordered the breach into the fold, and without hesitation, he did what the Rally Master commanded.

With one step inside, his burning passion to fight was quickly quenched by a feeling of fear. The looming cold feeling got colder and sharp, making him freeze in place. The sounds in his ears turned into an intangible mess of jumbles and screams and his vision started to blur. He had never had a reaction like this before, even as a Padawan, so his behavior was questionable at best. A Crusader entering behind him took the liberty of helping him get back to his feet. They gave each other a brotherly nod, acknowledging the situation, and the Crusader got back to what he did best. Jair followed right behind him.

His blaster rifle was quickly sheltered in the grip of his hand, and he wasted no time dispatching any threat that showed themselves in front of him. The war cries of the Crusaders behind him refueled the flame to an unbelievable degree, and Jair regained that burning passion and charged forward with vengeful intent.​

 

[Maestus]

She stood, watching the gathered crowd as the listened to Darth Solipsis , the Dark Lord of the Sith.

Those who displayed the expected reactions...Shock, Outrage, received a passing glance. It was those who neither made a facial expression or changed body language. They drew her scrutiny and interest.

And then she was flying to ground about 6 meters back.

Shell shocked. Disoriented. She fumbled her way to her side. Then up on one elbow. The process was arduous and slow, but she managed to prop herself up. As dirt and debris filled the air, she began coughing. Then her eyes began to water. Only her sense of sound still functioned. Her ears rang though, like a screaming banshee. The sounds of attack were lost amidst the chaos.

She started to push herself up to hand and knees. Coughing and moving blind the whole time. She felt weak and helpless.

She pushed herself up to her knees, upright. Her eyes were finally clearing. She looked down at the remnants of the silken robe she had worn. It hung in shreds. All large areas were peppered with holes of varying sizes.

Still coughing like mad, she ripped off the robe. Knotting it up, she wrapped it around her mouth, creating a make shift filter. It wouldn't keep everything out, but perhaps it would be enough.

She lifted one shaky foot from her kneeling position. And set it down in front of her. She put both hands on that knee and called the Dark Side of the Force to herself. She commanded it. Demanded of it. Her physical senses may be disoriented and distorted, but her strength of will was as strong as ever. Perhaps stronger now.

As she pulled the Dark Side deeper into herself, augmenting her body to heights no mere mortal would ever know. She threw her head back, and let out a piercing scream of rage. Loud enough to stab through the chaos and destruction.

Chest and shoulders heaving, she stood upright. Fire rimmed black eyes glared brightly, defiantly. She began walking, moving through and around the crowd and debris. She was Sith. She would not cower and hide while some as yet unknown assailants attempted to destroy Fortress Vader and all within it.

She was Sith. The blood running through her veins was Sith. The air she breathed was Sith. And as Sith, she would not take lightly someone daring to attack her.

She would hunt this night... ​

​

 

[Pre]

Allies: Rynn Vizsla Milla Kryst Jair Ordo
Enemies: Everyone Else

Pre had never actually interacted with a dar'jetii before, but that didn't quell his hatred--in fact, it only fueled it. He'd heard plenty of stories. They were vile and mindless creatures that seemingly existed only to kill and ravage the galaxy. Their existence was pitiful and meaningless. They had as much honor as a black hole as far as he was concerned. They'd destroyed Manda'yaim and with it his vods. He had an opportunity for vengeance today and the chance to prove himself in front of his fellow crusaders for the first time.

The Vape Charges went off, blasting a hole in the side of the ancient fortress. The mission had begun and Pre charged in through the opening behind Rynn Vizsla and the others. He shouted in unison with the rest of the crusaders as he entered the compound, "Tal par tal!" His helmet gave him infrared vision allowing him to see and target the enemy despite the dark corridors. Shots rang out throughout the corridor as Pre and the other crusaders blasted down anything that stood in their way. They moved quickly through the corridors, leveraging their upper hand while they still had surprise on their side.

He had matured to the point where he no longer took joy in killing. He no longer viewed it as a sport and more of a necessary evil. This was the exception though. He imagined most of the monsters within this fortress had killed more than a lifetime's worth of people and if they hadn't already, they probably would soon. While he lacked the lightsaber-proof beskar'gam some of the other crusaders likely had, he still carried an arsenal specifically designed to kill dar'jetiis. His GALAAR-15c carbine and WESTAR-35c pistol both had the capabilities to overload a lightsaber and his Vibrosword had enough power to block a few lightsaber blows before being overwhelmed. That along with a few detonators' would hopefully be enough to dispatch of the enemies that lurked within, no matter what they threw at him. And if it wasn't, at least he would die honorably trying--that was something no dar'jetii could say.

 

[Kascalion Giedfield]

Darth Carnifex | Taeli Raaf | Darth Solipsis | Darth Vinaze | Darth Bellum | Chimera | Maestus | Gnost Zym | Beltran Rarr | Chasianna | Malel Mal'gurith | Rax Tremira | Vora Kaar | Darth Petrichor | Kalt Bruq | Darth Strosius | Pom Stych Tivé | Khamul Kryze | Jaeger Harrsk | Rynn Vizsla | Pre | Jair Ordo | Milla Kryst
​

The Devil watched with keen eyes as the Dark Voice made his way through the throngs of Sith and those with proclivities to the Dark Side. Under the control of the meek Kascalion, he had confronted the man on Ninn - or rather, Solipsis had confronted him. Even so, it was a contest that shattered the hangars of the Rynn's Hollow spaceport, clashed with him as a warrior that broke saber and steel, and tested his might as a Force User that sundered souls into the Netherworld.

All of this, even when the Devil was cursed to walk under the meek rotted form of Kascalion Giedfield and not Kavar Lok Kas'Oni. The Devil immediately wondered what the battle would be like now that both he and Solipsis had reached new levels of power unseen before. Especially so when in the presence of those whose energies would only add to the fields of Chaos that further perverted the walls of Fortress Vader. Men and women like Carnifex, Vinaze, Bellum, Tivé, the First Sister, Bruq, Maestus, Raaf. And of course, there were the others whose powers were growing still, seemingly stretching to the depths of hell and the heights of heaven without limit. It was certainly an impressive gathering of strength and the future of the Dark Side would logically be in good hands from a general examination of those in the room.

At least, that is what the ignorant fools would think. The more the Devil inspected the room, the more he realized that - despite the select few he had noticed beforehand - most in this room were wastes of the space they occupied. Scrounging goblins who did nothing with the energy they controlled. They were tearing at the fragments of an already stretched-out power, and weakness such as this needed to be deposed for a rebirth of the Sith, to allow for a more...fertile contest between them to continue.

Once more, the Devil's eyes settled on the container that rested upon the table before darting back to the Dark Voice who began his speech in full. Kavar paid careful attention to each word that fell from the scarred lips of Solipsis, whose movements were stiff and skeletal. A lich who carried no phylactery. A warlord whose army was the Darkness itself. Truly, the host of this feast was one to respect in a begrudging way for those who did not fall in line within the Brotherhood. Kavar gave Solipsis that begrudging respect, the same kind he gave his foes in Irveric Tavlar , Rurik Fel , Kainan , Paz Koon. Even, to some extent, the fallen Yuroic Xeraic. Thus, he gave Solipsis the time to speak his mind and stir the soup of evil that filled the feasting hall.

"The Dark Side of the Force won a mighty victory over Csilla. Where the Brotherhood's loses were many, where the outcome uncertain. Half of the galaxy arrived in force to combat the powers that be, we did not relent, we did not falter. Even now fragments of the mighty MERCY streak across the galaxy in hyperspace ripples, waiting for emergence."

The Devil's mind burst alight with memories of the battle the Dark Voice spoke of. The frozen tundras of Csilla stretching for miles with no end capable of being seen. The plumes of smoke and ice filling the air, choking the life out of the world, as death reigned supreme over the home of the Chiss. There, just as he had with Solipsis and countless times before, the Devil clashed with the Imperator - Irveric Tavlar. Losses on both sides were heavy, and the Imperator once more proved that he was an ultimate opponent. However, the Devil simultaneously proved that he was no longer the same man that Tavlar had faced before and he now held more cards on his side of the table than before. A successful battle, even when neither man died in the end.

"We have forgotten the Grand Plan of the Sith. We have allowed ourselves to grow weak and fat from the spoils of war. The Dark Side is a poison that spread too thin becomes diluted, when it is gathered anew it's concentration bears fruit. There are too many that do not accept the burden that comes from being Sith and there are far too many wasting away the potential that could be collected in others. I do not come here out of kindness or duty, I accept my role as a river-breaker and bend Fate to my whim. As such.. I look upon the faces of each and everyone of you and see.. weakness. Trappings of power wasted away."

The sour words shook the Devil back to awareness, his hidden flames of cerulean blue set upon the Dark Voice whose demeanor had changed from that of a gracious host to a cold, iron star casting its milky light over a field of dead grass. Had the Devil been a mere mortal like the rest - conduits and proteges as they were - he would have felt some twinge of fear. As it was, however, he felt nothing and watched with the frozen flame of his eyes as the speech came to a climactic end that was punctuated by the sudden burst of explosions from the levels above the feasting hall. This brought some emotion to the front of Kavar's being and a smile formed under his mask, stretching from ear to ear. What would a Sith feast be if not one filled with violence and despair and fear for their own untimely deaths? The ruination of their powerbases was nigh, and it was perfect to the now giddy Devil who quickly moved to the container on the table. What better time to unveil the surprise for the feast and set the fate for those who could not or would not join the true Sith in a proper contest against their enemies?

"A fine speech, Solipsis," he called out with his icy tenor, stopping next to the container and placing his left hand on its peak and his right at his side. Whatever had been done during his tricks with his suit's pockets and pouches, his fingers were now black as pitch and blue streaks ran up to the knuckles from the nails. Tendrils of dark smoke encircled each palm and wrapped further up around his tattooed forearms, which were now a pale color in contrast to the usual red of his body. "I find myself in rare agreement with you, particularly on the matter of...weakness. As you should know, it comes in many forms and finds its way into many people. Cravens, thieves, milksops, and even those who have found themselves in positions of power from time to time. The latter is perhaps the most egregious of its kind, for a weak and cowardly leader is a leader who will only send their charges into death and failure over and over again."

The Devil shot several glances over the crowd, locking onto the faces of those he had grown to know over the years and equally grown to despise.

"But, they are not solely to blame. All Sith of this ilk are men and women who refuse to accept their own stumbles in life and push the blame onto others, hoping that it absolves them of their sins. None of us true Sith should have patience for these types of people, and none of us will if we have any sense in our hearts and minds. I have watched many enter this hall and seen many before I myself made my own arrival. And numerous - far too many - of these cretinous mongrels fill this holy fortress at this very moment. Some of them die now above us. To those who actively seek our destruction. They walk among us as they have for years, saturating our lives with their insufficient, revolting existence."

He said these words with a hatred that was deep-set into his soul, for it reminded him of himself when Kascalion was the one in charge. A current of bile threatened to sour his mouth as he thought of the dead man's grinning, skeletal face before returning to his own speech.

"Commanders who refuse to see their faults, blinded by their own martyrdom and megalomania. Cravens, thieves, and milksops that run from every hard battle, praying in their abject fear to stay alive and live another day to slither unnoticed. But I have noticed them, and you should all have noticed them like Solipsis here has. It does not take a God, like myself, and a Dark Voice to see it. Every honest and true follower of the Dark Side of the Force should all have no tolerance for this maddening degradation of our ways. No compassion for the people who practice it. It sickens me that they have continued to live up until this point. It reeks of complacency and Sith do not fall to complacency."

The Devil then dragged his left hand down from the peak of the container as more explosions and screams echoed in the halls of Fortress Vader, signs of the battle to come. Across each symbol on the rear face of the container, the Devil's blackened fingers maneuvered, tracing words of the Ancient and Modern Sith and images of the histories. Guttural words wormed over his scarred tongue and into the air in little more than whispers. A mantra - nay, an invocation to open the pyramidic device. The tendrils of dark smoke wrapping around his pale and pitch hands writhed in silent fury as whatever seal that had been placed on this container struggled to remain unbroken. And then, after a few moments of this back-and-forth, a hissing sound escaped the container's interior as its seams broke open with a minor shockwave. Cold white mist poured from the metallic linings, chilling the Devil's skin as the hinges of the device opened to reveal the contents. "You call, Solipsis, for a new day of the Sith and our ways. I can only agree with you, as I and my closest compatriots of the Warlords...feel the same. So allow me to offer the first sacrifice on that path to a glorious renewal."

The Devil's hands reached inside the device and pulled forth the sacrifice. Blue and black skin greeted the onlookers, as did the golden crown and ornaments that adorned it. Makeup and markings unmarred, her eyes were closed as if peacefully sleeping, but her mouth was pulled into a disgruntled frown like she was aware of her death and felt some remaining parts of emotions about it. Her lekku were undamaged - surprisingly - and the cut of her neck was clean and cauterized, implying that her death was either uncontested or so quick that she had little chance to defend against it. This was the fate of those who had fallen to the curse.

Kavar smiled widely underneath his mask as he gripped his prize by its cranium, holding it in the air for all to see, another cacophony of blasters and screams resounding through the halls. And then he said: "May I present her esteemed Oracle of Ventooine, the Eye of Voss, and Dark Saint of the Sith...Darth Voyance. Some of you may have known her, some of you certainly did know her, and some of you certainly did not know her. Here is the shortened story: Voyance was a weakling and a coward who had too long soiled the integrity of the Sith. She is the first sacrifice this day and if you stand as a true Sith...you are prepared to do what I did and make more."

 

[Khamul Kryze]

The explosion was enough to catch Khamul's attention, and sensing the familiar presence of Death Watch was enough to keep it. He started for the door, but was stopped in his tracks when Kascalion opened the container, producing the head of their former dark sovereign. The Dark Saint Voyance hadn't been seen in some time, and Khamul had begun to wonder what had become of her. It appeared that she too had proven to be unworthy of the Sith, much like many who had gathered here. There were those who had proven their worth, but among the ranks of the Sith, weakness continued to permeate. It was a stench that needed to be cleared in order for them to continue. There would be plenty of time for that in the future. For now, Khamul had other pests to deal with.

He quickly made his way from the room, moving through the halls with great speed and ferocity. He managed to catch one of the Death Watch off-guard, catching him by the arm right as he came around a corner. With one quick motion, Khamul grabbed the Mandalorian by the neck with his other hand, sending a torrent of Force lightning straight into his neck. As the Mandalorian went limp, Khamul snapped his neck, just to be sure his opponent was dead.

As he turned the corner, he saw the familiar armor of one he had fought on Ninn. The Mandalorian who had defied him and refused to join his cause. No doubt in favor of the lost cause that these other Mandalorians sought to achieve. As he began to make his advance, a squadron of Sith troopers rounded the corner behind him, taking shots at the Mandalorians. Khamul ignited his saber, cutting the Sith troopers down. The last one managed to utter one word as Khamul ran him through...

"W...why?"

Khamul grabbed him by the shoulder, staring into his eyes from behind his beskar helmet.

"They are MINE."

The lightsaber ripped through the trooper's body, causing him to fall into pieces on the floor. Khamul didn't care for which faction the troopers belonged to. If they had been his men, they would have known better than to interfere with his hunt. He turned his attention back toward the Mandalorians that continued making their way through the halls, pointing his lightsaber at them as he called upon the Dark Side.

"Bold of you to come here."

Kascalion Giedfield Chimera Darth Solipsis Darth Vinaze Vora Kaar Maestus Darth Carnifex Taeli Raaf Darth Bellum Gnost Zym Beltran Rarr Chasianna Malel Mal'gurith Rax Tremira Kalt Bruq Darth Strosius Pom Stych Tivé Jaeger Harrsk Rynn Vizsla Pre Jair Ordo Milla Kryst​

 

[Darth Petrichor]

Petrichor sensed that something had been off, although he was unsure as to the source. In a room full of Sith, it was hard to tell who would start trouble first. The speech given by the Dark Voice only served to full the potential flames that existed within the room. Many Sith didn't take well to being called weak, and more than likely there would be hot tempers aplenty here. As for the Dark Heretic, he didn't care for such petty offenses. He had bigger plans than the infighting that the Sith provided. Perhaps this would be the day they would learn his true intentions...

His thoughts were interrupted by Kascalion's presentation of the head of the former dark sovereign, Darth Voyance. Once again, the Sith had proven to Petrichor that there may be no end to their infighting. The Devil began spouting out words that echoed the sentiment of The Dark Voice, words of thinning the herd and bringing greater strength to the Sith. It was enough to make him audibly scoff. The same old ideas, perpetuated by the same old personalities. He had enough.

The explosion from the Death Watch barely phased him. One of his Excerpts that had been hiding among the crowd approached him, likely to move him to another location. Petrichor stayed his hand, only sending a silent message to the Excerpt's mind.

Not yet...

Petrichor likely wouldn't have an opportunity like this for some time, not with the way things were looking. All of these ears, ready to listen. Not since he had first published The Way of Equanimity had he had this chance. He slowly pushed his way closer to the table, moving across from Kascalion Giedfield . He looked at the man through the cold eyes of his white mask, seemingly unperturbed by the display of brutality put forth by the dark sovereign.

"Weakness... what do you know of weakness?"

He turned toward the rest of the Sith that had gathered, scanning for the first that would dare attack him. He let out another audible scoff.

"What do any of you know of weakness? You, who are slaves to the very darkness that you swear you can command at will. Who among you has the humility to see the truth? I doubt that many do. You, who give yourselves such titles as Voice, Sovereign, Sith'ari... little more than pawns, hypocrites, and charlatans. None of you truly know what it means to be Sith."

Petrichor looked to Darth Solipsis as he continued.

"What happened on Csilla was unnecessary, brutal, and pointless. How many worlds need to die because of your desire for power? How many more must suffer simply because the egos of the Sith refuse to be satiated? It needs to end. No more of the needless bloodshed. No more of these petty squabbles and pointless wars."

At this point, his voice had raised enough for all in the great hall to hear.

"If you truly want to return to the old ways of the Sith, then you will stop following those who are little more than insects in the greater realm of the Force. There is a new age of Sith coming, yes, but who among you will be on the right side of history when the hammer falls? Where will you be when the palaces of these false emperors and prophets crumble, and their realms reduced to ash? For too many years, I have sat idly by while you have destroyed the galaxy. Too many years watching our numbers culled by the Jedi due to an outdated feud that holds no further merit. I am done waiting."

He ignited his crimson blades, letting them hang at his sides while his Excerpts quietly took position around the room.

"I will give you this one chance. Who among you wishes to know how to truly become one with the darkness? Who among you is even capable? Those who aren't, are worthy of nothing more than a swift death."

The Dark Heretic was planning to make his intentions known at a later date, but it was becoming clear...

It was now, or never.

---

Vora Kaar Chimera Darth Vinaze Maestus Darth Bellum Darth Carnifex Taeli Raaf Gnost Zym Beltran Rarr Chasianna Malel Mal'gurith Rax Tremira Kalt Bruq Darth Strosius Pom Stych Tivé Rynn Vizsla Jair Ordo Pre Milla Kryst​

 

[Aspect of Passion]

"Such an oddity.", the deep bellows of the royal voice echo'ed.

In the rear, the massive multi masked figure of the Worm Emperor stood - motionless and apathetic, empty void like eyes watching the crowds debate nonsense, spit words with such a violent force one could swear they saw blood. Surrounded by the Praetorian Guard, they kept a good distance from any would be Sith from attempting to tug on the Worm's coat tails - one even had a Sith by their collar, hefting them into the air and walking them back into the anonymity of the crowd. Still, the Worm seemed unperturbed, continuing on as the group spoke their individual peace;

"Whenever meetings such as these take place, throughout time immemorial, Sith of no caliber rise from the earth like worms to feast on our dying corpses. Then, when they have gorged their nonsensically large ego's they speak out with titles such as 'God', 'Dark Lord', and 'True Sith'.", the words said.

Shadows formed in the room - and while it was hard to notice with such a large crowd, whispers filled the ears of those who listened to the Worm Emperor speak. A thousand voices, a thousand faces, and each of them spoke in unison - one over the other until his words became little more than the conjoined tones of a choir of darkness.

"So many speak of such vague terms - of crushing weakness, ushering in the new age, squashing pointless feuds; but these are shallow examples of the plan. A thousand Sith before you have said the same, ignorant of the true depth of the Dark Side and only beholden to their incessant need to parrot their betters without truly understanding the words they speak. Now, as we sit here, once more does it occur - with children using the weaponized words of the Sith like they own them."

Although the masks did not move, two people in the room would feel the Sith'ari's attention;

Darth Solipsis and Kascalion Giedfield

"If you wish us to rebuild our Order, then we ask in what ways. Would we subscribe to the Death Cult of the Maw who's corrupted rhetoric descends from the Rhand, or those who foolishly sided themselves with the New Imperial Order only to be crushed under their synth-rubber bootheel?"

The Worm kept its multi eyed attention on them as it continued.

"Speak clearly, not in ambiguous terms. We in this room are the inheritors of a thousand years of progress, and the successors of the failing Sith Empire. We will not abide by spineless platitudes, only the pragmatic action of leaders."

 

[Malel Mal'gurith]

Malel Mal'gurith was unimpressed.

The Wraith Lord stood unmoving and remaining silent even now, where those among the congregation bickered over the scraps of a legacy that had been waged for countless generations, blinded by their own ambitions to see that so many had proclaimed these same pointless words before, fought the same battles and made themselves out of to be Gods among men in ages past.

They had too, all perished in the years since.

He had not come here to offer his allegiance to another false prophet. Among them, they were all equally fallible as they were arrogant to believe themselves invulnerable to the cold, unbiased hands of fate and time. Malel had no such ambitions to assume command, to lead was to call unnecessary attention to one's self whereas he would instead work from within the darkness, pulling the strings of untold persons of influence while remaining afar from the sight of their enemies.

He would fight and kill where the Empire required his deathly blade, yet there were few joys such as watching others do his bidding, manipulating the masses through control and deceit, and while those among this very room might all fight and bleed each other dry, Malel would savour his time and simply enjoy the spectacle that was.

Yes. What Darth Solipsis offered could be achieved. Darth Carnifex had proven this so for so many years before this new Acolyte of providence, yet it would be fleeting. To rule over the Galaxy was a fools dream, and a sure way to levy the odds against them.

'Keep knocking on the devils door and sooner or later someone will answer'.

The Wraith Lord had seen enough, and upon deciding as much the air around him became misshapen and distorted the silhouette of his form, darkness rising up around his feet and growing to envelop the Sith Lord until his entire being had dissipated into the ethereal. Where once he stood, no more.

He would return to corporal form only upon reaching the outskirts of the Castles grounds, where his ship awaited, alongside the Black Legion of the Empire's finest, only moving once their Lord had begun the ascent back into the craft.

Dromund Kaas awaited.

Vora Kaar | Chimera | Darth Vinaze | Maestus | Darth Bellum | Darth Carnifex | Taeli Raaf | Gnost Zym | Beltran Rarr | Chasianna | Rax Tremira | Kalt Bruq | Darth Strosius | Pom Stych Tivé | Rynn Vizsla | Jair Ordo | Pre Milla Kryst | Darth Petrichor ​