Private A Meeting on Jutrand

[Darth Malum of House Marr]

Rain poured down his hair, down his cheek, trailing down his neck, as all his clothes instantly became wet in the deluge that was coming down over Jutrand, yet he did not find himself caring much, as he trudged off the Lochris, onto the roof of the Intergalactic Banking Clan's Tower, the last time he had been here, he had feared for his life, that much had not changed too much, he still had to walk carefully here, or he most certainly would die. The last time he had been here, he had been invited, the last time he had been here, he had no purpose. This time, he had invited himself, this time, he knew exactly what he was doing here.

He was going to take his birthright.

The relics and artifacts of the great Darth Marr, that by all rights belonged to him.

It was by far different circumstances that he had come here, no longer was he the scared boy that had barely seen space, here he was, a veteran of many battles, who had seen the depths of depravity and glared back, who now stood, as apprentice to the strongest woman in the Empire, she who was rival in strength to the Emperor himself.

He reached the door and pulled it aside, his breath hitched as his body relaxed, a deluge of warmth, to dry his frosty form.

The last time he was here, the soon-to-be Emperor had threatened his family. The last time he had been here, he had sworn that he would grow in strength, to do whatever was necessary to protect them.

Had he reached that strength?

He had no idea.

Would the Emperor be as so bold as to threaten him now? Only weeks after the Kainite assault on this planet had been repelled?

He had no idea.

Yet here he was, resolved to ask the man for a boon for his services, or at least, that would be the public excuse. It would mean much for the fortunes of the House of Marr to receive an audience from the new Emperor, and for him personally... he wished to no longer need to fear the Emperor. He had served loyally, though he felt no such loyalty himself, not while his family was threatened. Would Darth Empyrean wish to change that? The man that he had bent the knee to?

He sorely hoped so.

He pressed open the large giant hall doors, the motion of giant wooden structures moving across the floor, being more of a signal, more of an announcement of his arrival than any trumpeter, any crier could do.

His knees fell upon the carpeted floor, his red eyes staring resolutely ahead, water trailing down his body, onto the floor, but he cared naught for that, desiring not for his courage to fade away.

"Malum, of House Marr, at his Grace, the Emperor's service!" He shouted ahead, to the Corpse King, sat upon his throne.

Darth Empyrean

 

[Darth Empyrean]

"Lower your meager head when you greet me, mongrel dog of the Snake.", Empyrean said, righteous and resolute. The courage Malum had approached the Emperor with came with the sensation, the strength, or a man ready to fight. Perhaps those thoughts were in his mind, deeply or held up, emboldned by a growing career of achievements and battles he had done well within.​

​

"I am not your lady-Master, nor am I the twice-Emperor. I am all this Order is, all that it will be - you will speak with respect and fear, or I will drown you in true strength. Is that understood?", the Emperor said as he stood from his throne, and that power overwhelmed them. Like a smell you couldn't escape, deep and driving - it threatened a gag at the oily nature of it, threatened to steal his breath like the bottom of the ocean.​

​

"I am the Dread Emperor, and I lack patience. Speak quickly before I take more than your pride."​

​

The darkness of the Worm encroached deeper today - changing the Emperor from a reasonable man to something... all too hard to define, and even harder to accept. He was death manifest, and were this to become all he was - then he would be right. The Order would be him, and it would be death if not dead.​

​

Darth Malum of House Marr​

 

[Darth Malum of House Marr]

Malum grit his teeth as he complied with the words of the man to whom he had sworn his loyalty.

"As you wish, Your Grace." Malum said simply, he felt his uncharacteristic confidence fade from him as quickly as it had come.

Darth Empyrean had apparently grown far more terrifying than their last meeting had suggested.

Was this the Worm Emperor now then? As Malum felt a wave of spine-tingling power, he was forced to consider the possibility very rapidly. Had he finally broken Darth Maliphant? Was the mask of Darth Empyrean to wither away?

Had they truly crowned the Worm Emperor once again?

Or the equally valid theory had Darth Empyrean held himself back in their initial meeting. For what reason, Malum could not quite say, perhaps then, even when he had threatened him so, he still desired Malum as a pawn, as someone who even threatened to act against His Mistress, would come to him voluntarily with the information to do so.

He had not ended up doing so, he had kept to his true loyalties.

As it was that perhaps Darth Empyrean saw no need to put on a mask of politeness... well if their last interaction could have been called polite, that was. Still, this aura, this essence that bled through it was almost something he could taste in his mouth, feel ramming against his nose. This was not how Darth Empyrean had felt the last time he was here.

Had he grown more powerful?

That was a troubling prospect indeed.

"As for why I requested an audience with Your Grace... I have come to take my rightful place," Malum spoke, his eyes for but a moment glancing upwards, seeing the cloaked figure, almost ghostly, wraithlike in appearance, standing before him ominously, "My rightful place, as the Chosen Champion of the great Darth Marr," Malum felt his amulet begin to heat up, shimmers of light in the darkened room as it began to glow its brilliant ruby, a sign, they were close, "And thus, I have come to take what I am worthy of, the artifacts of the great Marr, my birthright." Malum said, already knowing such things were not what Darth Empyrean respected... but indeed this may not be Darth Empyrean...

There was an opportunity.

"I ask that these boons be granted to me for my service to the Empire, but I do not come asking for boons alone, I offer further service," This was risky, but it was what his Mistress wanted, what the Empire would need to remain unified, "I shall open the door for the Sepruchal into the Tsis'Kaar Order."

His Mistress had always distrusted them.

He had to.

But they must be controlled, and that would only happen if they were embraced.

And then the dagger could be struck in their back.

It was a test too, the Sepruchal served the Worm Emperor above all if he readily accepted this exchange. Did it not mean the Worm Emperor was truly back?

Darth Empyrean

 

[Darth Empyrean]

"You have no claims by birthright but a name, young Marr.", the Dark Lord said with a slight sneer.​

​

"But it is not unheard of to be given boons of the Saints. Once, the Sepulchral had given divinity to Darth Vulkanus through the ashes of Tulak Hord - granting his savage mind clarity, and it broke the planet Ossus under his new found strength."​

​

Snapping a finger, the roomed seemed to darken slightly - Marr might recognize it as a shield barring this room from the outside galaxy as a whole. A way to make their conversation private, a domain within a domain, controlled entirely by the Dark Lord. There were always some in place, but this was something far more absolute, to ensure the conversation could be felt by none without their direct interference.​

​

"You will not be given a thing - the artifacts of the Saint of Duty are too valuable for the untested, but I will no deny you a chance to prove thyself. A Sepulchral priest will be assigned to you, and from there you may begin your journey to champion Marr's effects. As far as the Tsis'kaar..."​

​

"What would you be able to offer me, Son of the Snake?"​

​

Darth Malum of House Marr​

 

[Darth Malum of House Marr]

Malum considered the darkened words which waved across the room. As the remnants of the light above faded from his face, and for the first time since he walked into the belly of the beast, he realised, he was trapped, and at the mercy of this man, no this... whatever this was he could not simply be called a man, whom he had come to make demands of.

This had every possibility of going extremely poorly for him.

Yet the prize was so close, all that was meant to be his, all which was rightfully his. This creature, this dead creature plagued and infected by maggots and worms, it was the one obstacle, that kept him from it all.

Yet saying he was simply one obstacle undercut how much of an insurmountable obstacle lay before him. He had to be careful, but to simply say as such seemed to cheapen it. He knew from the very beginning, past his bravado and feigned confidence that he would need to tread carefully here.

Which made it all the more important that he truly did.

"My mistress will one day fall, and it shall be at my hand, as is the way of the Sith." It felt as much treason as he said it, though she was not the Empress, and thus it could not be a crime against the state, it was still a betrayal. One that if he had it his way, would not come to pass, it would be the three snakes of the Tsis'Kaar, him, Darth Strosius, and Darth Ophidia, who would one day overthrow this corpse and bring upon the new age for the Sith.

But that was for the future, for now, he would say what he had to, to gain what was his, "When that happens, the Tsis'Kaar shall flay about headless, striking whatever is in their path in reckless abandon, leaderless and directionless, when it happens, the heir of Darth Ophidia, shall need to take its reins, and it would be preferable to all, that it would be I, rather than Darth Strosius." His senior apprentice, the one already knighted, who held a headstart over him, and would be the natural heir if anything should come, he did not know him well, but he was a threat, and he would need to be dealt with.

"I thank you for this opportunity to be made the Champion of the Lord of Duty, but as it stands, in this state I cannot accept a priest amongst my entourage, but what I offer is..." For the first time since his arrival, his eyes stared up, towards the throne of the Corpse King, who rotted away, dying, but unable to die, "What I offer is, is the Tsis'Kaar, to be led by one bound and loyal to you."

Would this be enough? He was uncertain.

But that was a common feeling when dealing with the Emperor.

Darth Empyrean

 

[Darth Empyrean]

"Loyal.", Empyrean mocked, understanding the irony in that word for Sith to bandy about like they had a right to it. Loyalty among the Sith was as rare as finding a Corsica Gem in the pocket of a Coruscanti hobo.​

​

"You ask for my strength against your brother-apprentice, so that you might rule with only one blade at your neck. Say it how it is, young Marr, I do not need falsities. More correctly, you only mean to cut down threats to your power base - even at the cost of obligations. I can support this, but there will be obligations...", he said smoothly, as smooth as a corpse could rasp out in his deep bass of a voice.​

​

Leaning back, the Corpse Emperor moved a finger, and from behind his throne a Sepulchral Priest walked out. On first glance, it was as though another corpse now approached Malum, yet only a brief look over his features showed that this creature was not as the Emperor on the throne. He was simply old, with glaring golden eyes, sith tattoos across his face and exposed skin with deep runic scarification between them. What passed as a corpse, was simply a man of unknown age so thoroughly corrupted by the Dark Side there was hardly anything left - but the shroud of strength lay dormant somewhere behind the facade of fragility. That much he could smell on the priest.​

​

"There is no need to worry that the Ecclesiarchy are my spies - they are not.", he said with a finality that seemed to border on accusation.​

​

"That said - if you do not take one, and still hope to rise in power, you may find your path blocked. The Sepulchral have a way to instigate, restrict, or hold down those with ambition. Take a priest, Son of Marr, use them for what they are worth - but mind that their motivations are unknown to even me."​

​

The Priest before Marr offered the slightest of bows, before his cracked and aged voice broke through years of dust in his unused mouth;​

​

"It is an honor, Son of Duty, to meet you. The blood of Marr runs strong in your veins. If you are willing, I would guide you to become his herald, an incarnation of his purpose and nature. A chance to become what was, if not something more."​

​

The man said it as though Marr had a choice, but it was clear from Empyrean's warning that the choice was superficial. Either he took the priest, or he found himself dead soon after his coup of Ophidia.​

​

Darth Malum of House Marr​

 

[Darth Malum of House Marr]

Things were moving quickly, though he should not have been too surprised at that, the Emperor did not find himself enthroned there by chance, nor did the rumoured Worm within him choose Darth Maliphant by pure coincidence. They would not dawdle, or waste time, for it was with speed that all occurred, and victory secured. Unfortunately, Malum had little belief that he could match that of the former Darth Maliphant, even if he was a Corpse, the pure aura and power that the man oozed out of him, was enough to know he was not a man to be trifled with, not a man that he could take on.

Not yet.

And then, there was the Worm, the amalgamation of all the greatest Sith Lords of the past, how could Malum hope to challenge that?

Especially if it included the one they called the Lord of Duty, the one he had known his entire life as a name, a figure to be revered and honoured, almost as if he was a god.

For after all, if he was a god, what were his descendants?

The great Darth Marr.

He had heard his voice rarely, had seen his demise, the among the few who could claim as such in untold millennia, only the two figures, one enthroned, one kneeling, could claim that.

Yet were the voices of the ashen one, different from the voice within the Worm?

Would the Lord of Duty let harm come to his scion?

He was unwilling to test that particular theory.

It had been naive to think that he could get out of this without a Sepruchal priest watching him. Those old men that controlled the Eternalist Church, that though from the outside may have looked to be Darth Empyrean's most loyal, it was clear, their loyalties were to something else entirely, where the Emperor was an amalgamation of two, the Sepruchal, those unknowable, had to be loyal to only one. Yet, he knew little more, avoiding them as best as he could, as frankly, creepy was not enough of a word to describe the feelings they aroused out of him.

Unfortunately, it seemed his attempts at running away from them had come to an end.

He even was willing to accept that this priest was not to be the Emperor's spy, indeed, it would be the spy of something else, something far greater. Malum would have to keep his Mistresses' eye away from him, while also keeping his eye away from anything important. A complex juggling act atop a tightrope at the best of times, but something Malum was fast becoming used to.

"The Emperor honours me," As much as siccing an old man upon him could be considered as such, "You are right, and I will speak it plainly so, Darth Strosius cannot be allowed to ascend to our Mistresses' place," Lies, all of it, he would accept the priest if it meant that he would have what was rightfully his, if he could ascend to his rightful place as champion as herald of the Lord of Duty, but he would never betray Ali or his Mistress. For it was their place to overthrow this Emperor of immortality, the stagnation that made it so the evolution of the Order could not continue.

Such was simply the truth of the matter, even if his facial mask hid all his thoughts as best he could.

Still, there was but a question left. If the Emperor before him knew he did not have the loyalty of the priests if he so claimed they were not spies for him, what gain did Darth Empyrean have in obliging him to take one into his service?

Had he lied?

Perhaps.

Or...

Was he speaking to both Darth Maliphant and the Worm Emperor simultaneously?

Troubling.

He had no time to consider it further, as the priest was revealed, an old man, a husk of man entirely given in to the dark side, held together by the Force, barely more than a corpse. His words were surprising, so... forward, so flattering, he was unsure what to think, if independent from the Emperor, with an agenda unknown, could they be an ally?

No, he could not imagine it so, he could not trust the man or their creed, but if they would aid in his advancement, then he would play what games they necessitated.

"I would be gladdened to have a guide through the secrets and rituals of the Church, I would be honoured to embody the purpose and nature of my most famous ancestor." There was little lie involved, he was curious of the inner workings of the Eternalist Church, and there was little he desired more than to be recognised as truly, the Scion of the great Darth Marr, to be made his champion, his herald, who could doubt him then?

If it meant feigning selling his soul to the Corpse King.

Would that not be worth it?

Darth Empyrean

 

[Darth Empyrean]

"We will teach you all that and more.", The priest offered. Whatever the aged being was, it offered him a slow bow and moved to step behind him - eyes averted to the ground as though the Emperor was the sun and not to be looked upon without pain. This was not lost on Empyrean, and his nonplussed expressions spoke to his feelings on it.​

​

"What will you require specifically, Son of Marr? I've little concern for the masked Lord of Lies - I will not intervene personally without striking you both down, so ensure what you require is good the first time, because I'll send everything the second."​

​

Darth Malum of House Marr​

 

[Darth Malum of House Marr]

Creepy was certainly one of the best ways to describe their creed, yet still was not nearly all-encompassing to the feelings and emotions they were able to stir within him. It was strange in a sense, the man was entirely respectful and entirely polite, yet as he spoke, as he took up position behind him, Malum could not help but feel the hairs on the back of his neck spike up. As if he was in imminent danger, all parts of his body tensed, it was most strange of all really, for he knew as soon as he stepped into this room, that he was in imminent danger.

So why now of all times did he feel this way?

The honeyed words against the poisoned orders, he always knew that Darth Empyrean was a threat, knew that he could strike him down at any time, yet such a fear always existed for anyone, it a measure of trust, or at least a measure of self-preservation, to believe that one would not randomly strike another down.

But for the priest...

One that would be so close.

Who spoke such niceties, who feigned such niceties, with unknown motives, and an unknown master. It was hard to believe anything that he said was but designed to fit a dagger into his back.

Yet he had little time to consider that, for the Emperor's attention was back upon him, and his question was as troubling as it was important.

"My Mistress once told me that all that I request of her would need to be repaid," Malum began slowly, choosing his words with care, attempting the tightrope without royally fucking this up, "I believe the same precept would apply here, how I will bring Darth Strosius to heel shall be undertaken by myself, whether he dies, or kneels, all I ask of you is that you will recognise me as master of the Tsis'Kaar when that moment comes." For a vision, a goal, made up on the spot. One that would never come to pass, for he knew where his loyalties lay.

It was a surprisingly... alluring dream.

He could almost picture it, him the master of the Tsis'Kaar, with his Mistress dead, and Darth Strosius swearing his fealty.

No, such things were beyond imagining, the future was laid forth him with a path that made perfect sense, and he would not fall due to overambition. Such things were for after their victory, then, he and Darth Strosius could battle for their Empresses' seat.

Right?

Darth Empyrean

 

[Darth Empyrean]

"So be it, Marr.", Empyrean said with a wave of his physical hand.​

​

"The Tsis'kaar will be yours, but my recognition will come with an upfront cost. When your master dies, I will send the likes of Gerwald Lechner to conquer half of your worlds - purging them of your influence. That will be the upfront cost, a down payment. The interest will be paid with a tithe. From the moment I acknowledge you as the first among lessers, your information network will work for me. Against Strosius, and against many others."​

​

"Betray that tithe, and I will turn on you and the actions I force you to commit. The Galaxy and the Order will turn on you. Yet you will be allowed the independence you seek; you will answer to none beyond the Dark Council. You will become a sovereign on my word alone. Do not mistake the cost i've given you as unfair - to be beholden to none, indepedent as you will be, is worthy of this price. Deny me, and I will take far more."​

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Darth Malum of House Marr​

 

[Darth Malum of House Marr]

He could feel his heartbeat through his chest, he could feel his heartbeat through his entire body, it was fast, faster than normal at least, but that should not have been too surprising, after all, surrounded by priest on one side, and Emperor on the other, in the heart of the enemy's citadel. Was this what the great Darth Marr felt, these nerves, this inkling of fear, when he stood down Valkorian on Zakhuul, surrounded by his knights?

It had been this very room where he had seen that vision.

This very room where he confirmed the stories and tales that his House had told themselves of events from millennia ago.

He felt no fear, he felt only outrage, and anger, standing against an Emperor who betrayed them all.

And now he kneeled, in front of another Emperor, plotting even if without intent a betrayal.

Would the great Darth Marr look down upon him in shame?

The amulet around his neck was unhelpfully silent.

What stopped him from accepting it outright? It was not as if it would matter, it was an agreement made under false promises, a treaty signed in blood, but blood was an ink that would flake away with time. So why did he hesitate? Was it simply the immense demand levelled upon him?

Or was it because his mind already imagined himself as Lord of the Tsis'Kaar, and was already imagining, how much these attacks, these tithes would weaken his position?

He could not quite say, and so instead he allowed his mind to wander, had he asked for more direct aid in this path, would he have demanded more? How could one ask the question without seeming feeble? And independence? Independence from who, his Mistress whom he would have to battle and kill himself? Independence under the reign of an immortal tyrant.

It would be with careful words he would move forward, thankfully, he had been trained his entire life to use his words to arrange them in a subtle manner, to gain exactly what he wanted, without harming himself.

Yet if he was to be able to do that now, was up to the Emperor.

"His Imperial Majesty is generous..." Admittedly it was a struggle to say that without inflection or pause, for how could it be called generous without lunacy? His eyes glimmered with untold emotion, unsure of himself, but knowing what needed to be done, at no point did he wonder, why he was negotiating seriously, "Yet, for all the Tsis'Kaar will lose, for all his His Imperial Majesty will gain..." He looked up fully, to meet the golden orbs of the Emperor, "I wish to join the Emperor's Dark Council."

Darth Empyrean

 

[Darth Empyrean]

"Is not your rise not to the highest position before the Dark Council enough? The fastest in a generation, and you would ask more of me?", he said with a low growl.​

​

"And what, Lord Marr, would you dare to impose on the Dark Council? What ambition would you seek in such a position? Speak no lie, and I may consider it. Attempt to deceive me, and I'll kill you and your Master myself."​

​

There was less of a threat in his tone, so much as curiosity, but the tempature in the room elevated as he finished. His eyes, metal and cold as they normally seemed, filled with a subtle metaphysical heat that began to scorch at the metal, and steam the water about them. While Empyrean, dead as he was, could no longer sweat - Marr would have the involuntary sensation of sweat beading on his forehead as the Emperor prepared to scorch him alive with nothing but the anger in his eyes.​

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Darth Malum of House Marr​

 

[Darth Malum of House Marr]

He... he... had not rejected him outright.

That was a good sign? A very good sign...

...Perhaps?

With the Emperor, Darth Empyrean , it was not hard to tell per se, indeed every interaction with the man, though he could count those with one hand, he had fluctuated between fiery hot and icy cold, yet those were on a spectrum of the greater emotion, simply put... anger.

And as his words struck him with the force of a whip, Malum's breath was taken away by those metallic eyes staring down upon him, filling up with viscous heat, as the entire room seemed to become an oven.

Sweat trailed down his brow, as his mouth became dry, and his throat became parched.

Had he pushed too far? Had he flown too close to the stars?

He shuttered his eyes, feeling about him, in this position, there was little opportunity to escape, and he seriously doubted the priest of all individuals would be his ally in ranking loyalty between himself and the Emperor, their... Worm Emperor.

He let out a shuddering sigh, as he opened his orbs, trailing up to meet the one he was knelt to, the one that... he had technically vowed his loyalty to, his Emperor, the Emperor of the Sith Empire.

That had to mean something, otherwise the whole structure collapsed.

That was what he had taken away from his Mistresses' teachings after all, whether this Emperor or the Twice-Failed could be conquered, could be rid of. It mattered little if it would break the Sith Order into a thousand irrelevant pieces that the Tsis'Kaar could not hone back into true purpose and strength.

This was all necessary, and now here he was... pondering... betrayal.

At least technically, it was not treason.

That was the coldest of comforts, along with another, finally reaching his metallic orbs.

Curiosity.

Perhaps he would survive this yet.

"Your Imperial Majesty is correct, you honour me with my rising so quickly, so young," As if that was truly the case, it would be he who would have to eliminate his Mistress and Darth Strosius both, the latter likely easier than the former, but he was not so confident to believe it simple, yet... if it could open his avenue to the Dark Council... there might be something worthwhile yet.

...And, admittedly he understood the point, he was so young still, to demand more... well, perhaps the metaphor of flying too close to the stars was apt.

Yet, for all that he wished to come about, for all he wished to serve the Sith, for all he wished and needed to come about in both this realm and the next.

His age, could not be a barrier.

These immortal tyrants had all the time in the world, and with it, they had made this galaxy stagnant.

He had limited time.

For what he wished to see, he needed the power now.

"I... seek only the opportunity once what has been discussed has come to pass, hopefully, my act will have proven my capability. As for my desires within the position, my ancestor served upon the Dark Council, and he served well with his manifest purpose to defend the Empire and all its peoples, I would desire the very same." He noted his words well, no lies, or he would know it, and though he had been taught to lie with the best of them.

In this moment, he would not risk the Emperor's wrath, nor test his patience.

The threat had come out of his lips already, and the evidence simmered around them.

"I desire, only the power to advance forward the interests of the Sith across the galaxy, until all fly the banner of the Empire," It would be after that, once the galaxy conquered when peace, security, and prosperity had been brought.

That they could face the only foe that mattered.

The one that controlled them all.