Faction Cut Off One Head, Two More Shall Arise | Sith Order

[Darth Caedes]

Outer Rim Territories
Jutrand
c. 902 ABY
Tags— Madrona A’Mia Elmindra Xitaar

Caedes gripped the bannister, his burnt fingers resting like talons on its cold metal. Though his gaze did not waver from the two clashing Sith, he felt little for either. Strosius, on the one hand, was known to him—a stubborn if steadfast idealist who echoed Caedes' own longing for unity, for an end to the endless fracturing of their Order. Alongside Caedes, and Darth Carnifex nearby, Darth Strosius had scoured and reclaimed the Sith's ancient home world of Korriban—a world for which Caedes now served as King. That alone had earned him a measure of respect. But Malum, a cog in the Emperor's machine, was to Caedes little more than a face lost to the tides of mediocrity.

The Dark Side swelled as Strosius revealed his true form, wings unfurling like pitch black shadows, declaring himself emperor. Caedes remained still, the flicker of a smile almost imperceptible beneath his hood. He found no thrill in such theatrics—only in the challenge they posed to Darth Empyrean's fractured Order. Still, he did not believe for a moment in the success of Strosius' bid. Bluster, nothing more.

Nearby, Revna stood silent, her apprentice's bond with Strosius betraying her anxieties. Caedes did not have to look at her to sense the unease she tried to conceal. She might have felt it then—a cold, unseen weight pressing against her mind. But if she sought him out, she would find only his back, stone still, a fixture in the corner of the viewing box, watching the two below.

 

[Darth Strosius]

​

The encroaching darkness that Malum left in his wake as the two Sith sped towards one another didn't seem to phase the would-be Emperor at all. If anything, His eyes seemed to light up with an even more intense glow at the sight. Whether out of amusement that he would be so bold as to wield the Dark Side against it's most fervent servant or in some sort of twisted revelry rather than repulsion at the new sensations of coiling despair that accompanied the darkened sky. Nothing could dampen His thirst for victory this day.

Despair was brushed aside and gave way to passion, passion that brought strength and surged forward in the form of the tendrils that had been encircling Him. "Think of what it is that you'll die for, Heir of Marr." The slight reverb had grown and expanded alongside His own essence it seemed, His voice now more akin to a choir than that of a sole voice. Whether an intentional quirk or simply another exhaust of the power coursing through Him was difficult to discern.

"For your 'betters' that lead you astray and eagerly clamber for your downfall." His form was obscured within the surge of tendrils as they ascended to meet Malum, lashing at him with each punctuation even as their master seemed to fade into the very darkness that His opponent had summoned forth. "For the shell of an empire that sits close to collapse all because of the sins of the past that have yet to be paid for." The tendrils would start to falter, their movements growing frantic and wild as some faded and dispelled. The cause of which would become clear as pairs of Darkshears shot from their smoking husks to stab at Malum in seemingly random arcs of motion.

"For a blasphemy rivalled only by Bane himself, and one that has gone on long enough!" The choir of voices and whispers thundered, accompanying the tendrils acting as harsh winds and the spears which served as bolts of lightning. A storm of Sith that could at any moment evolve into a hurricane should He require it to do so. "Yet here you are, so willing to perish for a cause that's not even believed in by those who it keeps in power. Pathetic. A waste. Is that what you wish to die as?"

Thankfully for Malum, the orchestrator of the storm was not one to let all the work be done by His manifestations alone.

Like clouds parting after a heavy rainfall the tendrils and mists they exuded from shrunk back as the spears dissipated, revealing Strosius in all His glory once more. One could easily make a connection between many common depictions of gods parting the skies to greet their worshippers, a sight displayed in many artworks even to this day. Albeit with varying levels of symbolism and accuracy.

It was as though the waves of darkness that Malum had let loose had been bent and made to serve Him instead. Draped across half of His being was an aura of dread and despair, the fearsome Lord Inquisitor that had brought so many their untimely demise. He who had served too many executions to count. On His other side exuded the worship and faith that He not only so deeply held but also that was held for Him, the High Priest standing triumphant and dominant over His foe. He was both at once and yet still somehow so much more. Perhaps too much more.

When He spoke His words lacked their usual fire and brimstone, instead teeming with sheer certainty and zeal. "I will tear down the Corpse from his stolen throne, and with him cast the heirs of the Worm into the void. Never to blight my Sith ever again." Crimson lightning wove between His fingers even as His three blades hovered at the ready. "I will make the Kainites and their horrid tyrants pay for their sins, in full and without mercy. Finally they shall reap all that they have sown and be made humble before execution." Lightning arced between His fingers, connecting His hands together in a dangerous red chain as His golden gaze bore down into the Sith that He hovered before.

"And with you, I erase the last of Ophidia's failings. Purging her weakness from us forevermore!" His hands clasped together as His fingers splayed forward, unleashing a torrent of blood red bolts upon Malum that seemed as undeniable as any lightning strike. "I will restore the Sith as they should be! I will renew our Covenant with Bogan! I will drag our Order back from the depths of depravity and sin, into a new golden age that is laid bare with the blood of the weak and craven!"

Darth Malum of House Marr

 

[Revna]

The small woman had been so surprised by what she saw before her in the arena, that she allowed her guard to slip as emotions swirled within her. Such a moment betrayed things she felt for the two down below, and when she felt a cold weight intrude upon her conscience, she knew she had made an error. She reacted almost instantly to the intrusion, throwing a barrier between her mind and the presence, and perhaps in an act of retaliation Revna thrust a spear from her own mind right back at the intruding presence, a punch in reaction to a push.

Despite this, the signature of that presence drew her gaze; she knew it hadn’t come from either of the Kainate Dark Lords, no - this was a new presence that she wasn’t familiar with. Her ember orbs flickered from person to person, until they settled on the back of another Sith Lord, whose presence and power in the Force was notable. She didn’t know who it was, so she wondered why he had decided to reach out and make contact. And she silently kicked herself for returning aggression towards a stranger who could make her pay for her rudeness, should he feel so inclined.

Perhaps that push against her mind had been a warning to her that she had made herself vulnerable? Or maybe that he had sensed her momentary lapse and had decided to toy with her?

Whatever it had been, it was enough to make her reinforce her barriers once again, and shut down whatever emotions she felt for what was occurring beyond the box. If this Sith was aware of what she was feeling, then it was likely that the others had as well. Anger, more directed towards herself than anyone else, rolled through her like low thunder before she pulled her attention away to stare back out into the arena beyond, watching impassively as Strosius’s voice boomed loud enough for everyone to hear Him. It was a great challenge not to be moved by what she saw, what she heard, but she had already misstepped in the presence of her enemies. She’d been a fool, again.

When would she learn??

Revna chose to take the moment as yet another lesson, instead of letting herself wallow in a pit of self pity. She had no time for that.

As red Sith lightning poured from her High Priest’s hands towards her cousin Darth Malum and He made further emboldened statements that further entrenched him into the dangerous path He was treading now - Revna felt an urge, one she hesitated on briefly, before perhaps recklessly giving in to it. She reached out to that cold presence that had pressed itself against her mind, a prodding that carried a message that seemed to say, I don’t know you but you seem to know me enough to intrude into my space.

She had no idea if the Sith would react to her or not. She didn’t expect him to; but her insatiable curiosity drew her in like a moth to flame anyway.

Tag: Darth Caedes // Open​

 

[Darth Malum of House Marr]

To embed oneself in darkness, was most often to conquer a most primal fear within them all, as he sank into his own inky depths, red eyes barred from the world, as he lost himself into the pulsations that emenated out from his arm. His breaths felt of ash and smoke, his heart heavy with the sensations which he knew utterly well, but held at utter confusion for why they came at this moment.

To embed oneself in darkness, was most often to give yourself into the depths of the unknown, to stare into the abyss and willingly abandon any will, any control, any liberty one held, in favour of trusting what lay beneath. Theirs was an Order which saw strength, saw power, in danger. Theirs was an Order which saw no limitation in what they were, but only the potential of what they could be. Theirs was an Order which saw the chains that bound them...

...And sought to set them free.

It was an odd sensation, the feeling of one trying to claw out of his chest, feeling hot magma flow through his veins, feeling every tiny hair from his legs to his head, stand to attention as the electricity buzzed through the air, only to have it disappear, as quickly, as it came, as the blade in his hand pulsed darker, and deeper, almost as if a snake's fangs, injecting a black poison into his veins.

As so quietly... he felt the tapping in his skull... a voice so soft...

"Sic.. Semper... Tyrannis..."

There was but a narrow road, his mind filled with so much, yet filled with nothing, revealing the path of no return, as the tendrils burst forth through the blackness out in all directions, not yet finding their target, yet searching with increased speed and force, it was a subtle grace, of a brain sharpened and set alight with a focus impossible that traversed further, and further, into the belly of the beast. His breath quiet, measured, not a single act to reveal his place, as he flew closer. It would be impossible to return, to retreat, without revealing himself as the tentacles tore through the path of his founding as soon as he took it.

"Think of what it is that you'll die for, Heir of Marr."

Born the younger of two, raised the elder of two, known at the moment of conception, the only fundamental truth of his being which mattered, he was the heir of the great Darth Marr. The amulet burned hot against his chest, as the booming voice of the self-declared Emperor only revealed how close he had come, shaky limbs pivoting around closer, and closer tendrils, as he fell deeper, and deeper into darkness, in search of his...

He had never had a brother.

Long had he wondered why that had been, not that there was much reason to wonder he imagined... four girls, and a boy, not impossible odds, even if unlikely ones. Yet, sometimes... he wondered, where his sisters were compared to each other, he was... peerless. For where they had an heir, they did not have the spare whom they might have so desired.

Had it not been he who had gained? Caecia so resented him for being born, was not a brother one who would lust for all that he was not? So why, why did he, the one raised to be the perfect Sith prince, the only option, the only pride of the House of Marr?

So why...?

...Why had he so wanted a brother?

"Parricidium..."

"For your 'betters' that lead you astray and eagerly clamber for your downfall... For the shell of an empire that sits close to collapse all because of the sins of the past that have yet to be paid for."

The voice continued, as the tendrils receded for but a moment, as they fled northwards, the sword crept forward with the full power of the form's swing, as the shield did its utmost duty, defence, distraction, and deterrence.

They said he had been but a boy when the empire began collapsing around them, their pride and joy, born as the greatest empire which stood in the galaxy...

...Began to collapse.

As Imperials within clawed inward, as Jedi from without clawed outward, as the Sith who had stood triumphant, united, in one of the rarest eras of their history... began to fracture.

He bowed to one of those failed emperors.

He bowed to one of those schismatics.

He bowed to an ideal, an empire made to protect, to serve the Sith in a galaxy who so despised them, a people who had time and time again been pressed against the wall, with a blaster pointed to their heads... but survived. Yet, since he bowed, what had come but the efforts of those who would use those same Sith for their selfish ends? How long could he sit as water fell upon his head, and cleaned his hands raw trying, begging, and pleading, for the blood to wash away as the complicity he played in each and every one of those sacrifices that meant nothing.

How much longer could he stare into the mirror...

...And not recognise who stared back?

For his plan, for his success, he waited? How long could he? Until all which he wished to come about was corrupted by all which he had done?

They might lose... they would lose... but what mattered more than doing what was simply right?

Malum felt the tendrils shift, even physically blind, his eyes had far transcended mere sight, as he felt the Darkshears form, a bombardment on all sides which was once guaranteed to bring him down to beneath the earth, entered deep into the abyss of his waves, disappearing, even as they tore the fabric of the spell which he had woven, spilling forth out from the shadow, yet, far from their target. It was confirmation of what had been a dangerous assumption, that even as the Force had swelled within his co-apprentice, sight within the inky depths was a power he did not yet possess.

But there was little guarantee it would remain that way.

It mattered little if he could grow closer.

"Imperium... Nihil..."

"For a blasphemy rivalled only by Bane himself, and one that has gone on long enough! Yet here you are, so willing to perish for a cause that's not even believed in by those who it keeps in power. Pathetic. A waste. Is that what you wish to die as?"

The winds boomed at his command, nature itself brought to kneel before the emerging deity, as through the darkness a light began to shine. As the room once emerged in black, it only took the spark of a torch, the lighting of a candle, for the dark to retreat. It was embers at first, the flakes of power sparking and spluttering before it expanded outward with such a bright intensity that red eyes spotted with blood vessels demanded to look away.

Only to stand transfixed.

As the star formed in front of him.

In the face of that, what was he? A rat scurrying for safety, a snake slithering in hiding, a raven that flew his wings high, gazing down upon one which he could neither, understand, nor comprehend.

His waves pressed against the sandbanks, only to be dispelled by what power ballooned out from a core far beyond, the despair of his creation, could only be matched by the despair which beat mightily in his chest. Against the immortal before him, the winged dark angel, what was he? Title after title, name after name, narrative after narrative. For all that he had been told, for all that he had been taught, for all that he believed, what was he in the face of this?

What was he in the face of giants whose shoulders raised high, and who he could not even claim to stand upon their shoulders?

Pathetic.

Waste.

To die.

...He was going to die...

The tears began to form in his eyes. Even as his mind struggled between the overflowing thoughts and feelings, and the tempering of the battlemind, for all that he had said he knew his fate could be this... for all that he had made plans... for all that he had prepared... for all which mortality had played such a familiar role in his life.

He... did not want to die.

He swallowed deeply, the protrusion by his throat bobbing like an apple during a fair, as he gazed around himself in the darkness... he was utterly alone here. All that supreme confidence, all that characteristic arrogance, all of it all had stopped mattering so quickly... as the fundamental truth which had bridged its mighty course finally concluded with the reality which may as well have been a warhammer striking his chest.

He was all alone.

So many were far gone from the arena, without the slightest care of what occurred to him. So many watching with rapt attention, powerless to stop what would come. Abandoned, despised, forgotten... and all entirely his fault.

He... was going to die... all alone... as the galaxy watched, here lay the heir of Marr, here lay the Lord of the Tsis'Kaar, here lay a Sith. So foolish, that he thought he could challenge a god. Would anyone care... would anyone notice... would anyone remember...

...That it had been Malum that fell?

"I am sorry... I will have to break my promise to you..." To the one in the galaxy that would listen, that could listen, "...For all that I am... I could never be enough... for my ambitions so bright... to burn out like a star..." Was this the fear which so ruled those he railed against? Was this the fear which made them wish to live forever? It burned hotly against his chest, smouldering coals that engulfed his heart in flames, every moment every cut, every bruise, every steb of utter and entire agony was patched over like it had not come at all. It threatened to overflow, as the pot filled hotter, and hotter, to the top, and demanded release.

Only to be denied, again, and again.

The tears trailed down his face, tears he barely registered, his mind so clouded by the contradiction of feeling and non-feeling, that what his body did, seemed the farthest thing from a brain that seemed more at war with itself, than with the enemy.

How he had so hated them, how he still did so utterly, but, at this moment... maybe he understood, like never before. Yet, hope, born out of the darkest of crevices, born out of a heart contorted and twisted, held there the only possibility that he could accept believing. The possibility that the naive man, had held too naively, even when beyond the last minutes of revelation, he had never thought it possible. For the one, action, every parent should do for their children.

"...Remember me, my love..." His lips shook, even as words required none to speak, "...Let them... let my children...let them know me."

For all the faces which flashed across his eyes...

...For Trayze, who believed in him when no one else had. For Revna, who he had never done enough for. For Lillian, who he had not protected nearly enough. For Falentra, who he had been a poor master for.

For Srina, who shielded a boy cursed and scared. For Mia, who took unto her arms the child of the enemy.

For Elsie, who... saved him when he was at his lowest. For Aureus and Caelia... the children he would never know. For his Kara... the first to take his heart.

And, even now, he doubted he would ever have it back.

For Alisteri... who even now, Malum pledged to save.

"Ad... Undas..."

"I will tear down the Corpse from his stolen throne, and with him cast the heirs of the Worm into the void. Never to blight my Sith ever again... I will make the Kainites and their horrid tyrants pay for their sins, in full and without mercy. Finally they shall reap all that they have sown and be made humble before execution... And with you, I erase the last of Ophidia's failings. Purging her weakness from us forevermore! I will restore the Sith as they should be! I will renew our Covenant with Bogan! I will drag our Order back from the depths of depravity and sin, into a new golden age that is laid bare with the blood of the weak and craven!"

Perhaps if he was in the mood to enjoy it, he would have, how similar they both were, how as Malum had marched through the fire and the flames to confront him, so did Ali fly out of the dark which had heralded him their champion, to reveal himself in the precipice of light. The thunder heralded that the game was up, as he felt his band burn against his wrist, his very form was the fuel which would sustain the next piece of the battle.

As whirling through the darkness and white, the red cacophony of lightning barred their fangs, slithering along the borders of a form ready for annihilation, as the form of Malum, eyes closed, rose out from the ocean of ink.

As silence dawned, and time stopped.

As thunder clapped, and the lightning roared forward, in mere seconds cascading webs resounded forward out of linked hands towards the target of raven locks...

...And golden eyes.

Far above Ali, the waves of darkness broke as Jutrand's sun, the true sun, hot and bright, who held no dominion thus far, filled the gap made by the retreat of the waves, pouring through as the deluge of brightness blinded all below.

And the red-eyed form of Darth Malum fell from the heavens, the Soulsabre of a sheen of dark violet, and the Blade of Storm and Flame, crackling in red and blue flames, swung forward.

He would die.

But he would not face defeat without giving everything.

"Deus... Delenda... Est..."

"Deus Delenda Est!"

Darth Strosius
Mentioned: Darth Empyrean Darth Carnifex Trayze Tesar Revna Lily Rhodes Srina Talon Mia Monroe Elise Ahana-Gwyneira Ansisa

 

[Srina Talon]

Tag: Darth Empyrean | Darth Malum of House Marr | Darth Strosius
Location: Beside the Emperor (Uh..the Dead One...)
______________________________________________________

Late.

She was known for arriving only when she deigned to and not a moment before but the sheer slowness of her recovery was proving exceedingly taxing. Srina moved through the long and crowded halls of the arena at a controlled pace lest the exertion make things even worse. There were several Sepulchral moving at her side that were more than a little annoyed by her refusal to imbibe disastrous, foul-smelling tonics and remain sequestered.

It was a waste of time.

It was beyond humiliating—And she would not have it. Not today.

The long train of a black cloak whispered over the stone floors like the sound of an approaching storm. The war had taken its toll—Physically, mentally. Every muscle in her body protested from the strain and the Dark Side within still felt different. As if a stranger had come to roost where a beloved friend had once been. She had been ministered to and doctored so much that she might as well have been a walking pincushion. But for today…She had rested enough.

The Kaggath was already well underway.

Her wayward children were already beating each other bloody. For transgressions. For themselves. For the Sith Order—For recognition, respect, and power. She could feel the clash long before she could see it, almost, as if she'd been staring into the sun too long. The air was thick with tension that manifested itself as a violent hum of strength that swirled in a contained vortex. The arena was built to withstand nuclear detonation. Certainly, it could…

The grace of her movements flowed to a stop for a moment when the weight of new energy pressed against her psyche with blinding intensity. It felt polluted but…Powerful. More than she had felt from either Darth Strosius or Darth Malum of House Marr in previous encounters. It was something new to behold but it was the whispering in the crowd that pulled her back into motion. It seemed like some of them had heard something while others hadn't and it was causing all sorts of confusion. Srina, frowned.

What was it?

Lacking knowledge was something that would never sit well with her…But there would be time enough when the dust settled to sort between forked tongues and decipher the message. For the moment she merely wished to find her husband. He wasn't expecting her…But he would feel her long before their eyes met. Srina wasn't entirely sure how pleased he would be to see her here when she was supposed to be recuperating—But she didn't expect much of a fight.

Unlike most…He believed her when she said she knew her limits.

The Kaggath was for many elder Sith a rite of honor. It wasn't something that she could ignore and her absence could have been seen as a slight or an expression of feebleness and neither were acceptable options. Srina had endured quite enough of the latter to last her a lifetime, especially, in the wake of the ruins of Echnos City.

It would not be repeated.

Her gloved hand slid along the railing while the crowd roared and got to their feet as the two combatants squared off. The noise was like thunder in her ears, a hammer to her mind, but the pale woman ignored it. The sepulchral parted the watchers and she slipped through with her chin lifted, golden eyes sharp and cold as ever, with a mask of serenity and in difference. She couldn't react to the merging power from the center of the arena…

If a bomb went off—She wouldn't have been able to react.

The Sith Empress was…the Lady of Pandemonium, now, as rumor of wartime had spread. Her eyes lingered on the back of Darth Malum of House Marr for a moment. She didn't openly support one side or the other, but she knew this man. The shape of him. The color of his thoughts and the state of his mind. He hadn't been expecting the cards that Darth Strosius had brought to bear and his stance…Whispered, to her.

This was not the sight that she had expected to see.

He had been pushed back, not yet outmaneuvered, but…Still. It was…Unexpected.

Aureate orbs slipped from the fighters and turned toward the private seating area that Darth Empyrean occupied. "Meldanya…", she murmured, all liquid grace, when she claimed the empty throne at his side. The ghastly state of her husband didn't seem to phase her and the pale Echani leaned toward him rather than away. "Why do you have that look…"

His expression rarely changed. Most, would be confused by her observation but his wife knew better. At the likely, very dry, very empty stare that followed she elaborated while reaching up to pull her hood down, silvery white hair, beaded and braided, falling free.

"The one where you seem to want to smite…Everything. Does my presence displease?"

Her eyes stole back toward the fight, but she leaned back in the chair, and let her hand find the leathery hand of her husband. The Empress had felt her presence required at an official event. The wife had simply…Missed her other half. As taciturn, unforgiving, and spiteful as he seemed to be the flaxen-haired woman rarely seemed to notice. Her eyes lingered on the opponent who was seemingly on the backfoot. Srina could not interfere.

Not in any way that might present an unfair advantage.

That didn't make her powerless.

She could feel the edges of her power, raw and jagged, curling at the edge of her mind where so slowly began to weave in forms of eloquence. Srina did not share the same sentiments as her husband in regards to the Lord Inquisitor or the Dark Councilor. It wasn't the first time they would disagree and it would hardly be the last.

It wouldn't drive her to take his hand any less.

Her voice would be felt only, only, by the Marr heir. She did not aid him. She did not provide any boost toward his prowess…But he would hear her. Sense, an ever eclipsing cold.

<<…Focus….>>

She shifted…But didn't lift her gaze. Piercing…It normally didn't take this much effort.

<<…Find your flame—You know where to look…>>

"Who seems to be winning?"

 

[Kadann]

He would waste no time in unleashing his counterattack, spinning the staff low and sweeping it towards the Chiss’ legs, aiming to disrupt her stance and any footwork that may follow.

"Your faith in your Lord Inquisitor is misplaced." she hissed.

It was only two years since Kadann had become a spectre of vengeance. An assassin striking down all those One Sith who had hounded him down and murdered his friends. A ghost who had shown no mercy.

He had still thought of himself as a Jedi, but that path had twisted him and changed him. There was no return from that. There was no good and evil. There was just a wheel, ever turning.

The constant conflict and those crushed beneath it's weight.

Kadann was too broken to even give up.

His pulse quickened. Perhaps this was why he kept going. He had come to love the flow of battle.

The air thrummed with energy. Lightning dancing at the call of the Chiss. Kadann opened one hand. A wave of telekenetic energy fell upon the Assassin.

Kadann didn't aim to hurt him, he simply aimed to disrupt his stance, deflect his blade and to try and keep him in place to by struck by the arcs of lightning.

 

[Darth Caedes]

Outer Rim Territories
Jutrand
c. 902 ABY
Tags— Revna

Caedes remained still, his gaze fixed on the battle below, face concealed behind gold trimmed night silks and an ominous, clinging shadow. The Dark Side beat and swelled throughout the arena, writhing as a slippery thing between the Sith. It connected them as could few other things. He could feel it there in Revna, turbulent, her mind roiling, recoiling and defensive. Anger crackled behind the walls she threw up in obscurement—hasty, guilty, a kind of self directed shame for being caught unprepared. Clearly, the girl had not yet learned the fullest arts of subtlety, neither in the Force nor in her composure. As Revna scrambled to shield her mind, she revealed the very personal, perhaps precious, importance of that which she sought to hide. Many among the Sith might count it a blessing to have one's Master meet with untimely demise, but not this girl. The flickering of her eyes betrayed shock, scanning the various gathered Lords, searching for her mind’s invader. Prey was always more alert when its predators were nearby.

When a similar investigatory spike lashed out a moment later, Caedes neither flinched nor mounted defense. Instead he opened himself to her, meeting her retaliation with an unafraid welcome; a lurking, morbid-creeping curiosity. He showed to her his shock and his respects for Strosius, his entertainments of the moment, a coiled snake’s satisfaction in discovering her.

As she thought to him, he thought back, yours is only what you can successfully claim and defend, young Revna Sharr. A chiding derision pushed through like thick ink in water, you do not make yourself difficult to know.

 

[Kasir Dorran]

Her focus on the battle would make it easy for Kasir Dorran to slip inside. Hubris, and the belief that no one would be so foolish as to try something would make his hunt all the easier, but even so, these were the Tsis’Kaar's elite, the moment blood was spilt the tables would turn.

Lightning leapt forth from her fingers, its target a widespread. She didn't intend to hit just him, but also the barrier at his back.

Tags: Ansisa

The assassin barely had time to react as the lightning struck him in the chest and all around. Pain exploded through him, coursing like fire. His muscles shook violently, and he felt his grip on the saberstaff falter. The blue harlot was simply too strong.

But, to be fair, he was simply one guy against all the Tsis’Kaar lieutenants. There was no way they didn’t have this.

Parts of his skin bubbled and charred. He then felt telekinetic energy hit him like a battering ram.

Kas struggled to regain his footing amidst the chaos. Desperation surged through him; he refused to yield here; surrender was not in his nature.

He gathered his remaining strength and made a leap for freedom. The ground rushed to meet him, as he hit the surface with a loud thud. Dust spiraled around him, but he was alive; he had escaped. Gritting his teeth, he decided to keep moving.

-exit thread-

 

[Madrona A’Mia]

Unusually messy, A'Mia's workshop within the Kor'ethyr Academy greenhouse was strewn with various flowers, root tubers and herbs. The strange acolyte had lost track of time while she worked to sort and extract from her various components, a mid sized holocaster murmured in the background as she did. The work itself wasn't terribly difficult but it was generally laborious as she gradually practiced Sith alchemy to break down raw vegetation into more refined, psychoactive parts. She'd been so busy of late that she had put off this task until the last minute, waiting until the morning before the grand opening of The Reverly.

The broadcast in the background was one she'd selected on a whim, with latent curiosity perhaps about where her Lord Master Darth Caedes was in attendance currently. The Kaggath was deemed important enough it would seem for many prominent Sith to be present. Her larger than average eyes rarely left her work, carefully sorting plants into their constituent parts so the three growing piles of powder would remain pure. Kyraj was paying her handsomely for the supply of such drugs after all, and if nothing else she did have a sense of pride in her work. A'Mia also had every intention of sticking around at the grand opening of the nightclub so she could watch how these very intoxicants affected their users. An errant interest in lacing one of the piles with a deadly poison entered her mind, simply out of sheer curiosity about the chaos it would cause, but the whim left her soon after and the perfect piles remained unmarred.

Sounds of aggressive exposition and tense combat drew her attention back up to the holocaster. It seemed Darth Strosius and Darth Malum of House Marr meant to kill eachother, earnestly so. Her dispassionate gaze hovered for longer than before though, it seemed the action neared its zenith. The odd shapeshifter twisted a bit, remaining seated at her work station as her neck elongated nightmarishly to bring her face closer to the live broadcast.

"Hmmm…" she murmured absently to herself, "Such a young face beneath the mask. No wonder he's always barking, threatening to bite… and look, his doting big brother."

A'Mia watched unblinking as Ali declared himself fit to rule, watched as the two combatants collided again, Malum appearing to be at a disadvantage for the time being. Part of her regretted not being there to see this display of darkness herself, to feel as the audience felt. But as was so often her experience, she could not feel as they did. Part of her, the part that won out, was annoyed at yet another petty squabble which further divided the Sith and weakened their hold on the galaxy at large.

"Just kill him already," she huffed absently and to no one in particular.

Her interest waned again and her spindly form returned to normal, eyes rolling a bit at the holocaster as if the very device were to blame. She settled back into careful alchemy, only half listening to the broadcast and looking forward to whatever descriptions of the event she might glean later from Caedes. At the very least they might yet use the spectacle to spur further discussion of the Force and its great many mysteries. In the meantime, she had a nightclub to supply with all manner of hallucinogens, uppers, and tranquilizers.

 

[Revna]

To her surprise, her curious probe towards the mind that briefly made contact with hers was allowed beyond barriers and she was able to form a sort of mental bridge with the one who had made himself known - very much like how she’d been taught by Lady Talon when they danced at the Life Day gala some time ago.

Clearly he had no issue allowing her into his mind, and this alone would have been enough to make the young apprentice to be a bit more aware. Only those who were unsure of themselves and their capabilities would be defensive or even hesitant on allowing such a probe to pass through. But there was no defensiveness from him, no hostility to be immediately sensed. But what she was made aware of almost instantly, was the intense strength and power he contained within. This being, whoever he was, held as much power as any of the other Dark Lords she had dealings with. She recognized it for what it was, and her reaction was to show a measure of deference for the gap in experience that separated them. She wasn’t so arrogant to feel that she could hold her own against someone with far more experience and power than her; she had learned the hard way that this was indeed not the case. A lesson she would never forget for as long as she lived, one that was etched into her memories.

Beyond the immense power that swelled within this particular Sith, Revna was quick to pick up on other things he felt content to reveal to her: his own curiosity and awareness, his amusement of the events that were transpiring beyond, and perhaps the thing that really captured her interest was the measure of respect he carried for Strosius.

She truthfully didn’t expect that from anyone within the Kainate, and one could almost sense her mental head tilt at this revelation. Outside of Darth Strosius’s forces and those who served under him, very few actually seemed to respect the cantankerous, prideful Sith Lord she called Master.

The thought she directed towards him received a rebuke in response. She didn’t really hide further from him; what was the point when she had already made herself so known, according to him?

Well I certainly try to claim and defend what is mine, like my own mind; it is a challenge when dealing with Dark Lords whose power far eclipses my own for the time being. It is still a work in progress, as I am sure you can imagine - she returned in though back to him, colored with a hint of sarcasm. Still, she accepted his chiding as a lesson, whether he intended for it to be one or not. But thanks all the same for the reminder to be aware of myself when around others.

Though it took some effort, she reined herself back in, to allow her own presence to be buried by others within the box, making her virtually unnoticeable to those who had not picked up on her inflamed emotional response. Not that her efforts would matter when the end of the fight came, as she knew it would and soon. Already, Darth Strosius made another attempt to finally secure His victory over Darth Malum - who prepared to meet Him head on with blades raised to meet his possible destruction. The emotions that were within her would soon surge forth anew, far more raw and powerful than they had been before because no matter who won this fight, this Kaggath - in the end, she would be losing someone who was dear to her.

Again.

Darth Caedes // Open​

 

[Darth Strosius]

​

It had all seemed as though it should have been over within but a few moments. The Heir of Marr, lost and confused as his own power was rewoven and wielded against him, blinding him as Darth Strosius readied His power for a killing blow which would end this little affair in one shocking conclusion. Quite literally shocking. It was the last honor that He would give to His 'brother' which had so insistently and incessantly meddled in His matters of interest and action, turning him into dust with one bolt of crimson.

A better death than he deserved perhaps. A part of the New Emperor was almost wistful as He watched Malum soar at Him with dual blades bared to try and bring Him down. So many times He had been on the receiving end of such a move. So many failed attempts, so many times cast aside like a common pest, even when He had succeeded He had never done so without having to resort to such dangerous tactics. Even now He had expended Himself far more than He had ever intended to, for Malum was just the first of those who would fall by His hand today.

The first to die so that His Sith Order could be reborn from their demise and baptized in their blood, made anew through death and suffering just as it had been made to begin with. A fitting beginning to the next Golden Age of the Sith if He did say so Himself. All He had to do was put down the Lord of the Tsis'Kaar and then all those that dared to claim superiority over Him. Not an easy task by any means but now more so than ever before He wielded the Force's favor and attention and He had no plans on wasting it now. Not when He was so close to victory.

But before He could land the killing blow with His lightning, he faltered.

A shot of pain and memories, neither of which were His own, spiked in His mind and made His clasped hands wrench apart as His fingers curled into fists due to an immense flinch. He saw Malum rushing towards Him in His mind, but this was not His perspective now. It was Hers. He felt as Malum's blade dug through her neck, felt it so much that a hand briefly flew to His own throat as if to try and hold off the wound that He felt should have been there.

It was only when Malum swung down at Him did He realize that His power wasn't the only one to be concerned with managing at the moment. He had been so caught up ensuring that He wouldn't burn out His own body that He hadn't even considered that she would attempt to make a move now. Right at the pivotal moment, just like she always said. His three blades blocked the strikes but the momentum of the other Sith as well as His own flight faltering due to His lack of focus made the pair of them fall all the same.

The Lord Inquisitor bared his fangs, their glint visible for a moment even on his shaded features, as they fell and He reached out to summon forth more tendrils to bat away His opponent but His head throbbed and swirled with the other presence that He had kept at bay for so long. She had been patient, just as He always chided her for, but that patience and the rewards it brought were being reaped right here and now. She had wormed her way out from the deepest corners of His mind to the forefront and now she was making sure that He regretted it. Revenge both for her death and His constant suppression of her efforts.

But the New Emperor wasn't one to be undone so easily, not when He was about to curl His claws on the victory that He had been chasing for decades. Darth Strosius grunted with effort as He managed to hurl himself out from under Malum's descent, just barely hovering above the arena ground as His blades returned to Him in a far more defensive stance than before. Divine as He might be at this moment, it was clear that He was still just a man beneath all that power He projected. A man that was determined to succeed where all others had failed.

"I'm going to mount your head over my throne, Marr." In an explosion of movement and red bolts, He surged forward once more at the other Sith. Dust, debris from the arena, the banners torn from the walls, even the discarded remains of His mask, all were pulled from the ground to encircle Him just as the despair and tendrils had done before. Lightning danced between them as the wall of debris was flung ahead of Him, a vortex aimed right at Malum as He brought His blades closer to His form in preparation to skewer the Heir of Marr.

Darth Malum of House Marr

 

[Darth Empyrean]

"Not your presence. Never your presence.", he said, as though he had simply never noticed her arrival until then. They both knew it was not because he did not care, but because he knew her arrival before anyone could have told him she was coming. Their bond thrummed to life as they neared, until at this distance he felt the smallest semblance of his life still in his grasp. She was a comfort he could always feel when she was near, there was no need for them to play as young lovers any longer.​

​

They had matured into something more refined, and all the better for it.​

​

"... but a presence does displease me.", he continued.​

​

"They're both losing. You coddle them far too much. I overestimated Darth Ophidia in her ability to teach - it's no wonder the Sith Assassin's legacy has become ash when its inheritors are... so disappointing. So boisterous. Darth Strosius hopes to tie my hands, but for what ends? So that I might kill him before the Order to prevent another Civil War on the precipice of a war with the Alliance?"​

​

He was flat in tone, but Srina would know him to be annoyed in the subtleties of their bond.​

​

"Any fracture in our cohesion, any doubt to my strength, will see us fall into sycophantic plots and intrigue before we even step foot in the Core. Coruscant will forever remain our 'old' home, so long as the Sith continue to let children like this claim our inheritance."​

​

Srina Talon​

 

[Darth Caedes]

Outer Rim Territories
Jutrand
c. 902 ABY
Tags— Revna

Caedes turned to face her, hands falling from the rails and slipping into their opposite sleeves, raising arms to form a horizontal bar of draping night silk and glimmering gold stitch work across his chest. He smiled but it did not reach his eyes, baring sharp white teeth. For Revna, Revna of House Marr, Master fought Family below in a duel to the death. What a complicated slurry of passions and mixed loyalties she must be feeling, yet this was the will of the Dark Side. Sacrifice was a powerful teacher.
Do not internalize nor excuse your own weakness, girl. Portray such, and such is what I will see. Lopsided, becoming first a momentary snarl, his smile died.
Power is an illusion of perception, Revna Sharr. Wear it if you wish others to perceive it.

 

[Ansisa]

There was satisfaction in the contact the arcs made with his skin, as the stench of burnt flesh reached her nose, her lips curled into a smile. Weak... he never would have stood against the might of the Tsis'Kaar lieutenants nor against her, and he knew it. The crackling at her fingers stopped as he leapt over the barrier away from her, she moved forward with the grace of a predator watching him retreat. She wanted to follow, to finish the job but a tug at her heart made her turn her attention back to the arena, back to her love, wreathed in darkness, impossible to see with the naked eye but she knew where he was.

There was something in him, something spreading through him that she'd never felt before, a corruption darker than that of the shard of Ophidia that she had become familiar with. She closed her eyes, stretching out to him, Kadann already forgotten. He was unimportant, irrelevant in this moment. All that mattered was Malum.

"My love?"

It was wrong, whatever the source of it was, it was wrong. Icy dread rose in her stomach.

Even through closed eyes, the light that rose from the darkness burned. Her hand found the railing, steadying herself and she refused to turn away from him, to turn away from the bright star he had become, as his power rose to meet the display Strosius had offered. She felt his despair, a lump rising in her throat.

"Malum…no…"

She opened the bond further, giving herself over to it completely, the roar of the crowds fell away, till there was nothing but him, nothing but his pain. Pain that she took on as her own, burning rising in her chest, the sensation of being remade over and over again drove her to her knees.

"I am with you…."

His children would do more than remember him, they would know him. Tears rolled out from beneath closed eyes, her hand clutched at her chest.

"I will be with you until the end of time."

Darth Malum of House Marr Kadann

 

[Darth Malum of House Marr]

He...

He...

...Missed.

Once there might have been such utter and total frustration at that realisation. Yet, now instead, against all which would have been in his best interest, or indeed, perhaps it was all for his best interest, he felt nothing apart from the formulation of his next great move. Even as victory seemed to drift away from him, further, and further, a flicker of hope burned against the snowstorm, and Malum found himself locked in a deadly embrace with his co-apprentice.

Flames flaring, lightning crackling, and blades kissing, as they took downward descent down into the fading darkness, even as two blades were forced to battle against three, a body which was soaked with the essence of his own making, driven by the energy of a mind that knew nothing but the call of sword against sword.

All apart from...

He felt his heartbeat.

"My love?"

A shallow breath left him.

"Malum…no…"

As the time began to slow.

"I am with you…."

"I will be with you until the end of time."

A levity, a lightness, filling him, an anathema to the poison that flowed so easily through his veins. It was no cure, instead, the void that had for so long, for only in moments of weakness ever opened, with full force unfastened, all which was his, all which flowed through him as three different spectres haunted him, rushed through the opening.

As he descended, further and further, his cape billowing behind as the wind spun a powerful wake.

"Ansisa... Kara..."

He whispered, without words, along with all which flowed... so did his heart. So did the final plan should the flame flicker and fade, and the snows, overwhelming buried all in their cold death.

"Infirmitas."

Another whisper replied a call to his own deficiency, yes... but too, the Soulsabre spoke in a tone that indicated far more than self-flagellation. Barreling through the air, red eyes met golden, golden which spoke of so little even as words themselves remained sparse to non-existent. The lightning had been different, it had... felt different, but he had only thought it a change due to the newly awakened power.

So why had the lightning frayed and broken? Why did his band still burn hot at the presence of a third to their fall from their heavens?

Why had Ali gripped to his neck, at the moment of greatest calamity to his being?

The answer eluded him, even as Ali barred his fangs at him, a blink, and the godly visage was broken, there he was flailing through the air, the same as Malum, baring his fangs like the rabid dog that he was, so much the mirror image of the rabid dogs which had been his duty, their duty, to put down.

His mind refused to consider the matter any further.

There was a battle to win...

...There was a battle to survive.

Malum let out a grunt of his own, as their deadly lock was broken, wiping the tears from his eyes both formed from moments before, but too, the burn of the wind pressing against his skull, the flap of his cape contrasting to the weight of his armour, as from the sky, like a comet, heralded by a tail.

He crashed.

His arms wandered desperately around his surroundings, his hand gripping dust and dirt, as they found purchase upon the ground, his eyes blinded by the rising dust of his entrance. There was a deep sting by one of his legs, it faded as the seconds passed and his vision cleared of all the rubble around him, as the sun pierced from far above, the darkness remained still, even as most of it faded away.

He hissed, as he put weight on his feet, a pain which rapidly faded from both mind and feet, as he pulled himself up from the crater which his fall had made, even as the dulled ache, the limp of his first steps gave him all which he needed to know of his current condition. Heavy breaths were his answer to the unspoken question, the condition hard to ascertain.

And the only good of losing might be that he would not ever need to learn.

The grimness of the statement did not much improve his mood, though a mood that duelled between utter hopelessness and clinical realism was hardly one which could be improved, especially as through the mirage, red eyes found the query of all his current woes, and of course... his landing had to have gone much better than Malum's...

...To have wings...

Malum smirked, a smirk which he did not feel, as he widened his stance, his Sith Sword flickering with embers pointed towards their opponent, all the while the Soulsabre shortened, held in reverse grip, guarding his centre. The stance was too loose, iron grips on the ground failing, as the pain barrelled from toe up to leg, every second the passed.

He could not avoid the upcoming storm.

He would have to weather it.

And as the full weight of that realisation struck him...

He knew there was no way he could possibly weather it.

"You will never have one, Haxim." The hiss was his answer, as hands matted in dirt and cobble made their grip on respective hilt firm and harshly felt.

As yet another voice joined the cadre.

<<…Focus….>>

<<…Find your flame—You know where to look…>>

His eyes flickered in recognition, raised in surprise, out from his peripherals, as his head turned an inch, as time seemed to slow again, and he gazed towards where he had always felt a silent, spiteful gaze.

It was joined by...

He swallowed his emotions, the protrusion by his neck bobbing up and down, as he found a familiar sight... he had not thought she had recovered, he had not thought she would be here. There was a sickliness to her complexion, but the regality of her form, upright and full was never in question. The coolness of her voice, as felt as the wind that flayed his neck.

Flame... huh...

The smirk filled his eyes, as his vision turned back fully to the contest. To engulf them all in fire, to turn them all into ember and ash, to give unto them the pain which he felt, the pain which they wrought, that even after he was pulled to the depths of annihilation, that he could still stand.

That he could take them all out with him.

Would it not be so sweet?

A sweet thought, as he felt the Force stir, as he felt it begin to swirl about him, as time began anew, as an explosion of red volts broke out before him, as the dark angel came flying forward in a burst of energy driven by what lay within, but too all which lay without. It was a fool's errand to believe he could hold back this, as the great conflagration of debris from their battle flung forward along with the spectre riding the dark horse.

It was a fool's errand, that he could have his vengeance for all those who stared, who watched his final moments, stretched out for oblivion that they might be, and laugh... gain pleasure... mock him...

His vision flared, and he was back in the throne room on Zakuul, standing before him, an immortal tyrant, of such long centuries of silence this creature had given his people, as he built an empire in far-flung shadows, as he had to rule, despite all the struggles against the Dark Council, despite all the struggles against the Jedi and their Republic, despite all the struggles against a darkness which had consumed his very body, and soul.

Here he stood.

He would never kneel.

Even if it would cost him life itself.

The vision flickered back to the arena, as Malum's breath hitched at the memory, as the Force felt the turn, around him popping and crackling responding to all which went through his form, even as Malum knew, the time to do as Her Imperial Majesty ordered... would be impossible at the speed of the confrontation levelled.

He had to try.

Both blades barred their fangs, held forward, preparation to hold.

It did not matter.

From the heavens above, in the gap between co-apprentices, another crash.

His band burned, and burned, sizzling flesh breaking the air, but Malum, jaw slackened, could hardly register that, as the band began to burn its last, almost as quickly, turning as cold as ice.

As before them both, skewered by three blades, a physical wall to the slung debris.

There was Malum's form.

With golden eyes that had all life removed from them.

Thunder broke above them, the first rains fell, and droplets felt upon his aquiline nose and flowing raven hair.

Lightning shot forth from the sky, towards a God who thought he could come to the ground.

Darth Strosius

 

[Revna]

She didn’t have to turn to look at him to feel his eyes upon her, though his shift and the weight she felt being pressed upon her, if only slightly, was enough to drag her attention away from the fight once more.

The small woman had been defiant and had turned her back towards a Dark Lord before, and had paid dearly for it. She would not make the same mistake again, at least not knowingly, especially here. Life was precariously balanced on the whims of others around here; make one mistake, one wrong move, and it could all end in the blink of an eye for her.

Revna sighed softly, before she turned to face the one who had touched her mind. Her gaze into his cowled face was fearless and bold; direct eye contact that some might consider a challenge. But there was no challenge being issued by her, but direct attention given to one of higher status than she.

He smiled at her, but it was not reflected in his fiery gaze, and was more akin to a snarl than anything.

His mental voice to her was sharp, another rebuke. Revna tilted her head ever so slightly as she pondered his snarled response, even as the smile dropped away from his face. Weakness…that thing that Sith hated to see within themselves, and ridiculed and mocked when expressed in others. She was no fan of weakness either…but she was wise enough to see and accept her weaknesses. She knew that they were areas of possible growth, for how could one strengthen those areas unless they acknowledged they were there in the first place?

Weakness… came the thought, almost murmured and whispery, trailing the tether that was steadily strengthening between them.

…if power is an illusion of perception, then surely one’s weakness can be as well. What you may perceive as a weakness, may be a strength to others. And that ‘weakness’ may very well kill you in the end.

Her eyes narrowed slightly as she further pondered his thoughts to her, and perhaps her more fiery side showed itself for a moment in her next response: Is your power simply an illusion for me to perceive then? Perhaps you are no more than the common rabble beyond this box, clinging to scraps of power from others?

Revna knew that wasn’t the case at all; she could feel his power ripple through the Force, a dark tide that was skillfully held in check. It made her further wonder just who this Sith was; she had a feeling she would learn the truth in due time, however, so she did not press him for such knowledge.

She held his gaze a moment longer, before turning back around to face the arena. I am not afraid to admit nor acknowledge my weaknesses; I choose to see them as areas where I can grow and strengthen myself…areas I can work to perfect. To internalize or excuse my weakness would only hinder me.

Her eyes returned to the fight, her mind trailed briefly to its coming aftermath - as she knew it was coming and quickly. What would happen to either side’s forces? Surely, with such elevated emotions between the two - there would be much blood spilled either way. And she felt utterly helpless in her current position as a prisoner of the Kainate. She couldn’t aid her Master - or talk sense into him - and she couldn’t defend her people from her own cousin.

Her fiery eyes lifted to the ascended form of her Master, and then lowered to the stalwart defense of her cousin. Victory over Darth Malum seemed imminent now, and her heart began to beat a little faster in her chest as she prepared herself emotionally and mentally to face the death of a loved one. And the truth that she would be furious with her own Master for killing her own flesh and blood. Perhaps enraged enough to one day seek vengeance for it, if she lived that long.

…But in the last moment possible, her High Priest seemed to hesitate and falter. There was a flicker in the power He had wrapped Himself in, and Revna cocked her head to the side as another thought trailed to the other Sith.

Sith only wear the illusion of power until they can embody it, or it consumes them. And those that are consumed by it, eventually will be destroyed - be it by their own hand, or someone else’s.

Darth Caedes ​

 

[Darth Strosius]

​

In the blink of an eye His blades and the cloud of debris that He had brought with Him impacted something solid, a fanged grin spreading across His shadowed features as He saw the debris batter against Malum right before His three blades skewered the other Sith. He opened His mouth to shout His victory for all to hear, but He faltered just as quickly. The grin was wiped away in an instant and replaced by the typical snarl that had served as His expression as He spotted the true form of the Heir of Marr still sitting just behind His copy.

"Cheap trick Malum." The words were hissed from the mouth of the New Emperor as His blades retracted from the double, returning to hover around Him as He rose into the air and leered down at Malum with a hateful amber glare that was almost blinding to look upon. He raised a hand and between His fingertips the shaft of a Darkshear began to form, coalescing from shadows that snaked up his wrist and palm to fuel its creation. Before the weapon could be completed however the drops of rain pulled the burning gaze of the Sith Lord upwards for a moment.

Lightning struck from high above and in a flash of movement that was too quick for most eyes to follow it seemed to impact the floating Emperor directly before suddenly careening off to the side, His arm outstretched in a pose that clearly showed that it had been deflected. "You should have known that wasn't going to work." While His words still simmered with anger, His tone was almost bored. Another strike from the sky was cast aside in a similar manner, the bolt impacting the wall of the arena and leaving a nasty scorch mark.

But His gaze hadn't shifted away from His opponent.

"For forty years, I have served the Sith Malum." The next bolt wasn't simply deflected as the other two had been, instead it was caught by the claws of His gauntlets and made to coil around them. "Forty. Long. Years." He hissed, claps of thunder punctuating His words as He brought up His other hand and let the lightning spread between both sets of fingers like a chain being pulled taught across His chest. "And do you know how I've been repaid for my dedication and service?"

With a growl the chain of lightning lashed out and scorched the ground between them as the storm picked up and His robes began to become drenched by the rain. "Betrayal." Another strike sent into the wall to stain it with another scorch mark. "Treachery." This one was cast to the ground and turned some chunks of the leftover debris into a pile of ash. "Incompetence!" Two strikes at once arced at Him and both were batted away to strike the ground next to him.

"All from those who would claim leadership, those who would declare themselves so high above me, those who would sit in their arrogance and stew in victories that I had gained for them!" A flash of lightning far above briefly illuminated the fearsome expression adorning His features before they fell back into shadow. "I have suffered the pride and failures of the 'great powers' of the Sith long enough! I have waited for thirty years to bring down the wretches that tore down the last Sith Empire! And you think that I'm going to let you stop me?!"

The next bolt of lightning wasn't deflected nor caught, rather it wrapped around His form as He spread His hands wide and summoned forth His strength once more. "You're going to die just as you lived Malum, a puppet of those that care so little for you. But I will tear the strings from the puppets and the hands from the puppeteers. A shame that you won't live to see it." He didn't even bother trying to feign any sort of pity or regret as He spoke, too focused on gathering His power to His hands as more bolts came down and snaked around Him.

They would soon swirl around to His palms, then forming into spheres at His fingertips as He grit His fangs together and fought the urge to wince from how the unfamiliar sensation weighed on His mind and threatened to spill His gathered power early. "Naudot Wonosa ir buti fasonija valyti." From Him exploded a blast which He clearly wasn't used to channeling, Himself sent reeling back in the air a bit as it left Him and soared towards Malum.

Darth Malum of House Marr

 

[Darth Malum of House Marr]

He had known from the beginning that the lightning strike from on high would be far from enough to gain him victory, but was it such a surprise that the youngest of the Dark Council had been naive enough to hope that maybe, just perhaps, an inkling of hope sacrificed that for all the pain which was dulled in his mind from every quarter of his form, just now, maybe, he might even have deserved to have his victory, with no more harm levelled upon mortal coils.

Malum knew, as soon the first droplet fell upon Ali- Darth Strosius' face, that the opportunity was missed.

Yet, the one which was planned, played out right before them. A plan which was flawed from the beginning perhaps, that required a sacrifice which had not even been his to make, attested enough as the mirror image of his form, skewered and broken, lifeless as it was, began to fade away, as the presence returned to occupy its throne within the throes of his mind.

"What does it say, that they seem to still work on you, A- Darth Strosius?" Malum mocked in reply, his head remarkably clear, as his breathing fell back into a steady rhythm.

Still, even after that unexpected move, he might have not had enough time, gazing forward at the floating beast, wings far-flung, a snarl animalistic, even without the lightning from the clouds whirling above, Malum felt the change in the air, the darkness coalescing ahead of him, an alert that now...

...Ali- Darth Strosius was playing his game.

His co-apprentice had spent the last many minutes tearing apart the game board, flipping the table as it were with his antics, all without regard for the rules and regulations which Malum so trusted, but now, to implicitly play how the scion of Darth Marr operated...

...Malum might have a chance yet.

The Heir narrowed his eyes, the first had been deflected. The second screeched to a halt as it careened and made its mark against the wall of the arena, rather than burning the skin of the target. The bolts held a quality far weaker than the ones produced by the Force, the weather phenomena above might have been constructed by his will, yet, all apart from the seed, all which had sprouted had been as natural as any other storm, evidenced enough, as the cloak once billowing behind him, held a heaviness, pulled to the ground, drenched by the rain above.

Even if the fact that the lightning struck the same position was far from natural, though yet if there was one being between them that acted as the lightning rod, it was the bright creature worshipped by so many here.

The third strike struck downwards, a burning hot light, heralded by the crack of thunder, coiled around his opponent's gauntlet, as if he had commanded its very submission, a final confirmation.

His co-apprentice might do exactly what Malum wanted him to do.

The volts transferred to the other hand shot outward, every muscle in Malum's body tensing, as it shot toward him, only to fall upon the earth, scorching all in its wake, turning to ash the debris that once remained, as Malum's heart only just falling to a calm, began to beat ever faster. As Malum fell into the trance he always did, listening to his br- appr- battlebrother speak, as the grip on his blades remained as ever firm.

A shiver ran up his spine, as his shoulders held the slightest quality of shakes, as the lightning continued to careen down from the sky, only to be deflected against the wall, only to burn the ground between them, or otherwise be taken inward to a being whom already held far too much power within a form, that could not possibly hold it.

As he desperately wished to look away, as his face flashed the vision of one who was the most dangerous of them all.

Zealous.

Malum knew, exactly what he needed to do, even as he was certainly loathe to do it, knowing.... believing... what would come next. As red eyes reviewed the memories of golden, for exactly what his target should be, who had seen in her memories, a perspective that hopelessness and distraction had precluded him from witnessing.

"You talk far too much."

The Ur-Kittat was his reply, as the great blast of energy exploded out from the dark angel, with the cacophony of a volcano's eruption, and as with the volcano, it was clear what was belched up in ash and smoke, could no longer hold the power that was as much unseen as seen, the hand gripping the Soulsabre rose upward, down from the sleeve, revealing a gauntlet, so small, it might have been a braclet, gold and silver in its make, a blue gem its arch piece.

A loud grunt erupted out from his throat, as the shield deployed outwards, an impenetrable wall holding against an unstoppable force, as through the corner of his sight, Malum witnessed his co-apprentice forced back, almost as if experiencing the recoil of a blaster, Malum himself held fast, as the darkness, a tsunami of power, broke against his sandback. Yet where momentum once might have fallen as the seconds passed, as his arms shook, with blade and sabre rattled settled in his hands, the energy perpetuated ever forward.

As Malum opened himself.

And the thunder broke the air again.

Lightning lurched towards a new rod, striking the shield which he had deployed.

And finally giving Malum the oppportunity that he had wanted, even as the anguished cry broke the arena's air, pushed ever back, a foot of unknown condition failing.

As the lightning, filled by the power attempting to penetrate the wall, dissipated outwards, seeming the creation of some invisible spider, the web expanding out in all directions, chains which all originated from a once masked master, spreading out across the arena.

Those possessed in worship to their new emperor, their new god, were easy enough to find, long since abandoned by those who had accompanied close by, spotted by eyes who had fought in a hundred different battles, and only lost the once.

And now they would pay the ultimate price.

Even as Malum himself, felt the smoke rising, even as he felt the blood begin to slip out his nose, even as he felt the anvils weighing upon his chest threaten to crush him, how many times had he wanted to end this in one final strike and failed?

How many chances did he have left, as his knees wavered, and threatened to fall?

"Unus."

Darth Strosius

 

[Darth Strosius]

​

Despite His own power having thrown Him back, Darth Strosius was quick to 'catch' Himself in the air as it were and shake off the sense of fatigue that had taken root at the forefront of His mind due to the effort. It seemed that His regeneration was finally starting to be overtaxed a bit, soreness and aches cropping up in His muscles all across His body even as He steadied Himself in the air and glanced back to see what He knew without a doubt would be a pile of ash where Malum had been.

He felt His eye twitch at the sight of His opponent somehow still standing resolute despite it all, braced with some shield that must have fought off the blast just enough to keep him alive. The fatigue and aches all at once fled from His mind as His fangs ground together and the thunder roared above in response. Of course the noble would have more than one fancy tool with which to make up for his lacking abilities, but it was of no matter. Gadgets and trinkets broke just as easily as bones and He intended to shatter all of them before He granted Malum his demise.

When lightning struck again He was eager to snatch it and hurl it at Malum as He should have done last time, but He was not its target this time. Instead it impacted the shield and was spread out in a web of crackling and lashing bolts that He raised His hands at the ready to intercept. But none of them were aimed at Him either. His moment of confusion was very quickly replaced by one of agony as the first of His followers was struck and killed instantly, an audible snap ringing out in His head as the choir in His voice whined in pain.

His hands came up to clutch at His head as more worshippers fell, the power coursing through His body pressing more and more on His form without the same level of fuel to hold it at bay. The tendrils that served as His 'wings' frayed and shuddered as He hit the ground on His knees, doubling over and digging his claws into the ground as his entire body shivered violently. The tendrils mirrored their master, slapping the ground and leaving scratches in their wake as the Sith heaved.

He hacked up what appeared to be blood on the floor, the substance being far too dark of a shade of red, in a short coughing fit before it leveled out into shallow and raspy breathing. He slowly rose from his undignified position, stumbling back to his full height with his hooded features showing his pale grimace even as his amber gaze settled on Malum once more. He was still being empowered of course, there were far more worshippers than just the few that the lightning had struck, but even a handful being removed from fueling his ascension proved effective. His body was unused to channeling such power and without additional strength flowing in from his followers he had no hope of holding onto it without seriously damaging himself.

Not that it mattered, once Malum was dead He would summon His fleet and have the full force of the Order of Wonosa and the Inquisition to fuel His battle against Empyrean and whoever else dared to stand in His way. The New Emperor was bruised, truly so for the first time in the battle, but He was far from beaten. A fact cemented as He rose up into the air and let a shadow come over His features once more, His 'wings' reforming at His back as His blades rose up from where they had clattered to the ground.

His lightsabers slipped into His hands while His sword hovered above Him, lightning cracking the sky above Him before He sped forward once more. He moved like a gust of wind, the ground beneath Him being churned up despite His feet hovering just above it as He tore across the arena to face Malum. No words nor insults were given this time, nothing but the gale force of a hurricane behind three poised blades could be heard from Him as He sailed towards His foe and slashed at him.

Darth Malum of House Marr

 

[Darth Malum of House Marr]

For all those that had been raised into the madness, into the zealotry of his br- appr- co-apprentice, Malum, even as he struggled to hold back the dark insidious energy that pressed, scorched, against his defences, he could not help but offer a silent apology. If there had been some other way to break them out of their insanity, if he had enough time to consider better preposition.

Yet, even as the lightning from the clouds was far weaker than what was produced by the cosmic energy that surrounded them, it was still lightning.

And as he felt his chains impact those that were the beacons which heralded Ali- Darth Strosius' light, as if the assassin himself, taking shikkars to their throats, he felt their last breaths, as the bloodcurdling screams broke across the pavilion, as they were veritably cooked alive. He was reminded, of a conversation from so very long ago.

"This…Is you. How I see you. A hearth fire. Steady and strong…with a source that is everlasting. It can protect as much as it can harm."

The memory was enough to cease the thumping in his brain, caused by a heart that was beating ever faster, as he felt the shield begin to waver, even as the darkness before him was rapidly dissipating. The hearth fire, a place of warmth and safety, for a fire that could burn so hot, that could tear asunder all who approached too close, whose embers could take to a foundation and burn an entire rotting structure to the ground.

A hearth fire could do all that.

But a hearth fire did not.

So why had he, why had his mind been infected with the sights of all around him, turned to ash and bone?

For all that he could do, for all which had filled him with such trepidation and rage, and all different flavours of emotion which he could hardly put into words, let alone understand, had he not always known to place himself in a position to do only what was necessary, only what was right.

He had betrayed, he had committed treason, he had murdered, he had cheated, he had lied, he had stolen, and he had just killed so many people all for the singular crime of having faith. Out from glassy eyes, peripherals blinded out by rising smoke, he saw his co-apprentice sink into his knees, clutching his head in much the same manner that Malum knew, much the same manner that Malum had clawed out in utter agony as his own mind, the one organ which had never failed him, turned inwards, betrayed and attacked by a ghost that should have long been dead.

His arms struggled, shaking, if an opportunity to win was present, it was now, and now his very body shook, exhaustion making itself felt, along with all cadre of ill and wound, his throat was singed, every breath, begging for a last, as it was dried out. Pain rocketed across different limbs at seemingly random.

As the blast finally dissipated.

As he fell onto his knees.

A broken foot singing in pure joy, as relief came from a bone that was in no position to stand, let alone anything else.

His vision blurred, dust thrown up in front of him, as wings seeming separated from the head, let out their death scream, careening towards the earth, digging a grave for the one that would lose.

One wrist stung with the pain of heat settled, the other... heh... he looked at the gauntlet. He had not thought he would use it, he had not practised with it nearly enough to have felt at all confident at its usage, yet, desperation had brought out all the stops, even as now...

...He could not feel the skin around his wrist. He had little time to wonder, he had little time to mourn, time was fast running out, and he had only a few moves left, two items lay limply around his neck.

An amulet that was warm to the touch.

A potion that he was too guilty to use.

The coughs, the sound of blood, viscous and far too red to be healthily considered blood, were enough to alert him to the fact he had to stand up.

He had to finish this.

For both of them.

His knees were not moving... his legs were stuck... blood dripped down his nose, as easily as it did down his hands. The end of the thumps of the wings was the alarm, that he was out of time, he gazed upward, a neck barely able to hold a head, as his bloody hands coated the beskar and black hilts in his lifesblood.

"Surgo." The Soulsabre whispered, its darkness flowing through his very veins.

He couldn't...

"Itik xok" She whispered, her voice so close, that she might as well have been breathing it into his ear.

"I can't..." He whispered a voice so low none could hear.

"Stand up." An old voice, a familiar voice, whispered directly into his heart. A presence everpresent, yet a voice that so rarely spoke. A rare moment of clarity, as his vision cleared, as his amulet roared awake, burning a scar directly upon his chest, as through him, through him... his hands, bloody and warn gripped down on the sand.

Hissing as the salt broke skin into the wound, yet, as the blade and sabre sizzled upon the sand, his knees awoke, limbs working together, bloodstained and beaten, rose from broken composure, as his lungs filled with air, and he stood upright, with pains, burns, and wounds littering his form.

As clear red eyes, stared ahead, what temporary setback was lain before him, gone, sabres held in hand, as blade floated above him, wings flapping, as he rose above the ground.

He charged.

A smirk found itself to Malum's chipped lips, as the violet blade of the Soulsabre shined so brilliantly, as the flames of his Sith Sword burned so hotly, lightning careening from the heavens once more, chains once more forming, to strike more of the ones that his co-apprentice hd sworn to protect.

Darth Malum answered Darth Strosius' charge.

Darth Strosius
Mentioned: Srina Talon