Public A Splinter in the Empire (Sith Reborn - Open)

[Uriel Kahn]

Jungles of Dromund Kaas

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It was coming down all around them, the empire found itself both loathed and loved deeply within. Majority were happy, and proud of the what the Sith had become. They believed they were destined for greatness, to become the like the golden age Sith of ancient times all but forgotten. But, there were a few, branches who found themselves in disdain of the Empire. Many Imperials had left to create the ever so pathetic New Order. Simpletons who forgot their place, and where they came from. And yet, these traitorous Imperials found victory against the Empire. Uriel knew why. Uriel knew all to well why the stagnant government the Sith called an empire was failing. It was not unheard of, nor frowned upon for the Sith to be so selfish, but the Emperor sought only to further his own interests. The Empire, and the Lords inside it were merely tools to meet his own ends. In Uriel's eyes, the Sith were being held back, weakened, poisoned by this. The great Carnifex may have once brought glory and victory to the Empire, but he no longer did now. And while it was also encouraged to dethrone a Emperor who was incompetent, Uriel saw no reason to rise to the action only to lead those who would not dethrone him. They were all incompetent, all weak. It was time for change.

From the southern jungle regions of the capital, Uriel called for cells of Imperials and Sith no longer wanting to be apart of this Empire. Uriel called to those who were ready to evolve, to bring something glorious and bright to the future of the Sith. Those who found life within the Empire to be dull, who felt a calling for something greater. Uriel called for the Sith Reborn. And he did not call himself Emperor of this splinter faction, nor called this movement the true Sith. This was merely an evolution of the Sith, a call back of the ancient ways, during the times of Kings and Queens. A time when the Sith reigned fiercely, and challenged each other to be greater than ever.

Clad in golden armor, the Sith Lord stood among Knights who felt the same as him inside a long forgotten base deep within the dark jungle. Outside were garrisons of soldiers who were loyal to the cause, ready to do more than simply wait for a call to arms. Walkers and land speeders reinforced their numbers. Uriel was now only waiting for other Lords of the Sith to join him so they could discuss the next action to be taken in rebirthing the Sith into something new, and improved.

 

[Ellie Mors]

Bad Boy

Rebellion.

It was a word that left a bitter taste in the mouths of any that spoke of it, sweet only to the disenfranchised and the weak as they saw opportunity to rise and become something better than they were in the present. So confident in their loyalties, the Empire and those beyond its borders believed little in such internal movements, and simply allowed them to run their course and burn out - even the Saaraishash, the equivalent of an Inquisition, seemed content to ignore such a budding group that may simply realize their task too monumental to complete. The Emperor, were the tales of such a small number told, would have merely laughed - brushed them aside as nothing more than mere sparks trying to live out a quick flash in the pan.

But Vesta Zambrano was not the Emperor, nor were they as lenient as the rest.

Dromund Kaas sat at the heart of the Sith Empire, and it was the primary capital of the behemoth of an empire. To have believed one could gather traitorous elements to the very government based on such a world without even possibly revealing oneself was the epitome of hubris, though perhaps the reliance on an apathetic ruler and leadership in hopes of getting away with such an impossible task was to blame. It mattered not to the Shi'ido, there were changes to come to the Empire, and they were changes that would come at the design of the shapeshifter, not some upstart who had never accomplished anything in their entire lives.

The New Imperial Order had been born through the same apathy that this rebirth movement seemed to rely on, but a lesson learned once was not one that could be taught twice - the jungles of Dromund Kaas were small after the asteroids flung to its surface a little over two decades prior had ruined much of them, so even the prospect of remaining hidden for very long were withheld from those rebellious few that gathered at the very seat of Imperial power. The Shi'ido was not yet at the site of this gathering, but it would only be a matter of time.

"There is only one revolution."

This was not it.

Uriel Khan Telis Taharin-Zambrano

 

[Telis Taharin-Zambrano]

”Revel in the mistakes of your shepherd, poor flock. His brandish staff won’t save you from my fangs…”

That was what surrounded him now, in all it’s base clarity and all of the words of ‘revolution’ and ‘revolt' spewed from their mouths like blood from a weeping gash. Hungry eyes, fueled by ambition and the belief that there is something better for them if they reduce themselves to that base instinct of dissatisfaction with violent reprisal. Here, in the shade of the dying woodlands, a relic of a dream of paradise that once might’ve been Dromund Kaas, a flock gathered and desanctified the ground they stepped upon with their sacrilegious intent. At their head was a shepherd who lacked the sight to truly revel in the ideas of ambition and evolution, and lacked the mind to choose a place with more… discretion. Dromund Kaas was not a place where little went beneath Telis’s gaze, and when the word came to him that there existed a congregation within the old temples he used to visit with his master, Darth Abaddon, he simply couldn’t resist.

Amidst them, wolven-garbed and masked with a shroud of gray-black fur, a bearded, yellow-eyed man found his presence amidst the revolutionary voices, nothing but a small smile upon his face at the thought of such hot blood. In the face of passion they had made a mistake to step upon his bastion of Dromund Kaas, and rather than fretting the threat as others would be want to do, Telis, garbed in the cold mindset of Aagenti, let this not be a threat but a hunting ground. Beneath his brother’s name, he joined them, and so for the first time since his death Perin’s name was brandished again, subtle intent with the unceremonious ‘resurrection.’ Now Aagenti walked among the flock of the Gold Aegis, listening to the twisted speech of evolution rail upon his mind like a mockery of his own ideas.

They believed themselves to be evolution? A pity for them to be so mistaken. There is only one font for evolution.

Aagenti assured that with his ambition.

Beneath the verdant canopy, Aagenti kept his head low, bowed within the hood of the fur cloak, each step of his feet upon the old stone a small click, echoing through the corridors. Lurking, waiting, abiding, the wolf kept his voice silent amidst the calamity, and walking bestride knights who thought him some capable warrior to join him. They saw in him perhaps a glimmer for a new change, not seeing through the mask, that Perin was dead and a specter controlled his skin and his name. Under the verdant canopy above, Aagenti moved, shifting with the flow of the crowd, the wolf ever unseen amidst the tide.

He stayed his hand and stayed his tongue, restraint still holding but wearing thin against the promise of the hunt and the feast. All around him the sheep felt comfortable and safe with their treachery and their secrecy, but Aagenti’s will would be done, even if he should let an entire temple of Sith to do so, it was his job to keep the Sith complacent and under the control of the Empire. Change was on the air, as it was with each passing day, but one revolution had passed him by and he would not let another fall through his clutches and bloom into another problem. By his fangs and claws he would once again drive order and stake a memory for all to witness. Evolution does not come through sheer emotion. It’s something that’s weeded and wrought.

To this end, he considered himself the hand at which he would try and test this flock of supporters. He would be the first to let Uriel see the destruction his forced ambition caused, and he would remind those that name themselves Sith that only one bears the title of Lord of Ambition. Complacency, after all, isn’t so much a permanence but a temporal thought. Whispering at a level only the ground could ever know, he made his intent all the more clear for the sake of driving home the point of his haunt:

”By this hand I will make martyrs… prattle all you like, but know there is a wolf that walks among you.”

Uriel Khan Ellie Mors

 

[Uriel Kahn]

Rubbing his thumb gently along the shaft of his hammer in thought, there were things Uriel wondered. Were the Lords too weak, too scared to stand up? Yes, a conception he had not put into place, maybe the Lords found themselves too afraid to break away from the Empire, to break their chains. The Sith Code was being manipulated here, greatly shaped into something grotesque.

He closed his eyes in memories kept deep within his mind. Flames arose in his mind's view, screams and battle cries. This was his falling, and he no longer cared for his past heritage. In fact he had grown complacent with his people, incapable of moving forward without three steps back. He remembered the man standing before him as he knelt, cut down while all around him lay the bodies of Imperial troopers. Then, his heritage made him arrogant, dull in artificial emotions of brotherhood and family. But his rage, the anger that kept him moving, swinging, kicking, had impressed the man cloaked in black. His transformation began.

Uriel rolled his shoulders has he came back to the present, the T-visor hiding his face from the rest around him. His left arm ached, ghost pains of flesh no longer existing there. There was a stench in the air, newly formed. His battle instincts were kicking in, paranoia maybe? It was to be seen still, but there was great danger in this movement. Surely assassins would come to kill him, and he was prepared for that.

"Everyone to the courtyard, I need quiet."

Ellie Mors Telis Taharin-Zambrano