Death To The False Emperor (Coup of the Dark Lord, Open to all One Sith)

[Captain Love]

The Ewok cackled madly as he watched his opponent fade through a wall, like some incorporeal spirit. He trundled forward, one paw raised, and tapped against the wall, fingers clawing.

"You can't hide, Empty One. I know your secrets. I hear your lies. The spirits whisper. And I listen."

He slumped to his knees, grinning. Pudgy cheeks drawn wide over yellowed, square teeth.

"I listen."

An anger roiled within the Warlock of Endor. Shunt me aside. The Ewok Sith. Because of my barbarism? Because I am not 'civilized'. The derision had been a constant among these so-called Sith. Always unable to look past the form to see the power within. Always taunting him. Always ignoring him. The shamans had not been so keen to ignore him when they'd found the Spirit Trees cut down for kindling. When they'd discovered his dark rituals. Oh no. He'd felt their terror. Their horror.

These Sith had forgotten the face of true evil.

Warok would remind them. Just as he had reminded his cousins on Endor.

Both paws raised high, twitching artfully. Tendrils of some underground roots from the garden beyond shot up through the floor and dug into the wall, ripping into stone and durasteel and prizing them apart. The wall groaned as it tore open.

The Ewok slipped through and into the corridor beyond. He caught a flash of his quarry's dark cloak up ahead.

"Empty Oooone, come out to play-ay."

[member="Vilox Pazela"]

 

[Darth Vazela]

[member="Warok the Defiler"]

"Mmmprhghgghghnhnfffg." Pazela paused, a pain in his bowels. He turned slowly to the approaching Ewok, sweating profusely. Arms felt sweaty and his knees were weak. All he could think about was spaghetti.

"Hmprhmmfphfffffttghhh," he said at Warok. Pazela knew what to do next. He would be unleashed. Freedom would be his. Suddenly, he turned his back to Warok and leaned over his knees, lifting his robes over his back to expose his behind to the teddy bear.

"MRRRMMMPHFFFFFTTTTTTTT." A soft hiss come out of Pazela, like a whiff of smoke rising him from his behind, but alas, the Dark Master held himself, not yet ready to do it.

"HMPHRRMFPFHFFFFTFTTTTT." A seismic shift threatened to shake Pazela to his core, an earthquake threatening to erupt from his colon, but still, he did not relent.

"HMPHRHFHFHFFFFFTTTTTTT." Red in the face, Pazela concentrated, hands squeezing on his knees as he fought to stay in control.

"HRMPFHFHFFFFFTTTTTHNNNNGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG." He was almost ready.

"HMPHRHRHRHRHRHRRRRRRRRRRRFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFAAARRRRRT." Exploding forth from Pazela, Sith Alchemized methane shot it's stink at Warok the Defiler, disintegrating roots as it blew down the corridor, breaking walls and creating fissures in their fabricate, as the wave of brown blew itself at the Ewok.

Lowering his robe back down, Pazela stood up and proceeded nonchalant to the throne room. He was almost there.

 

[Placeholder 04]

The doorway crumbled behind him as Mephirium strode into the Dark Lord's chamber. There would be no escape from this place, it seemed. Before him sat the final beast - the one who would call himself a god. The Dark Lord's presence was one that Mephirium struggled to cope with, but he managed all the same.

No words were exchanged as Cyril Grayson strode into the room. It had been years since he had felt this creature's presence, and he had never set eyes upon him. In all honesty, Darth Mephirium was underwhelmed, but then most people would be when they expected to meet a god and were subject to a mortal man.

This was the thing that had torn the Jedi Order to ribbons, had allowed the Sith dominion over the core, had killed so many that he had come to love. His darling Cyrene cut down by loyalists on Balmorra. His padawan, Kaigann, driven mad by the Dark Lord's machinations and brought to an end on Zeltros. His closest friend, Rusken, torn apart by Sith marauders during the battle of Kashyyyk.

All that Cyril loved, the Dark Lord had destroyed. United, the Sith had crushed the Republic and established themselves as a dominant force in the galaxy. They had been unstoppable.

Cyril had traveled to Dromund Kass' frozen remains in search of guidance. It was there that he had learned a simple truth: to destroy the darkness, you had to become it. Credits, time, and lives had been spent to get him into this throne room. Everything fell on his shoulders now. He would not let the efforts of the millions - no, billions of people who had fought against the Dark Lord's tyranny be in vain.

"I don't want your power," his voice was heavy with emotion, "Your 'plan' ruined too much. It killed my friends, my family, the people I love. I didn't come here for the sake of politics - I came here to kill you. I came here to slit your throat and tear down everything you've built, my lord."

He didn't know when his lightsaber had found its way into his hands, but the bright blue light it cast was all too comforting. It spoke of a time when Cyril and his friends had stood against the encroaching darkness.

How times had changed.

Mephirium strode forward. A roar of pent up frustration burst from his lungs as he charged the Dark Lord. The shadowy figure rose from his seat as Mephirium crossed the center of the room. The usurper reached the steps when a blast of telekinetic energy caught him in the chest. It felt as if he'd been hit by a speeder bike. The lightsaber was flung from his hands and clanked across the tiled floor far to the side. He was rolling backward, just barely managing to right himself by the time the Dark Lord had descended from his perch.

He called for the blade, but something intercepted his ethereal fingers. Then he was wrenched up into the air once again, an invisible grasp wrapping about his form. The air was drawn from his lungs. His bones shifted and broke. The force refused to respond to his call. Mephirium could only stare in horror as the Dark Lord lifted him a meter in the air and tossed him into one of the room's walls.

The impact left him seeing stars, but he managed to grasp lucidity, if only barely. The Dark Lord's towering form seemed to glide toward him at its own leisurely pace. It would be upon him in moments.

Mephirium called upon the force. He called upon the souls of the departed: of Kaigann, Cyrene, Rusken, Urya, the billions who had fallen to the Dark Lord's legions. They did not answer.

The Dark Lord was only a few feet away now. Mephirium drew in a shaky breath.

There was something else he might call upon. Steadying himself, Darth Mephirium immersed himself within the depths of the force. He searched the ethereal realm for the dark seed which [member="Soeht"] had implanted within his very soul. That power united with his own might buy him a chance.

Etheral hands grasped his throat. The cold touch of the force did not deter Mephirium, even as his windpipe began to constrict. He fed upon the black seed Soeht had planted within him; drew upon the waves of darkness flowing from the Dark Lord in waves.

He did not fear the demon.

Bright blue eyes melted away to an unhealthy yellow. Tendrils of crimson electricity crackled around his ruined form. All at once, the force responded to Mephirium. The surge of energy exploded outward, strong enough to send the Dark Lord back a few meters, and more importantly, to free Mephirium from his murderous grasp. The usurper fell to the floor clumsily, his gaze falling his fallen lightsaber. He called to it, and the weapon returned to his grasp a moment later.

The Dark Lord steadied himself. Mephirium affixed him with a baleful gaze.

"This empire you've built," Mephirium stepped forward, "It belongs to me. Your vision is faulty."

The Dark Lord's reply came in the form of a storm of electricity. Mephirium barely managed to keep it at bay. The throne room began to rumble with powerful tremors as the storm continued. It burned its way up Mephirium's arms and disintegrated his armor. The flesh was marred and warped, but the lightning could not progress beyond his forearms.

Once again, Mephirium drank in the Dark Lord's power. Vaapad was as much a mindset as it was a form of combat. Mephirium was well versed in its secrets - that strength came to aid him here.

The storm of lightning was returned with Mephirium's own. The crackling of energy formed into a violent maelstrom in the center of the room, tearing away anything that was not bolted down to the floor and pulling it into a cyclone around the two Sith Lord. Mephirium marched into the destruction, a roar of defiance at the top of his lungs. The Dark Lord met him with silence.

And then it fell apart.

The maelstrom exploded outward. Mephirium felt his flesh being seared and the force itself crying out in agony. He was comforted with the knowledge that the Dark Lord had not escaped the maelstrom either as he fell into darkness.

The Sith Lord awoke a few moments later. The roof of the building had caved in around the two combatants. Pain thundered through his entire being, and he willed it to drive him forward. A moment's concentration allowed him to life the rubble up from his would-be-tomb and toss it to the side. Across the room the Dark Lord, bloodied and limping, pulled himself from the wreckage.

The debt had not yet been repaid.

Cursing his own ineptitude, Mephirium ignited his blade. The Dark Lord turned his attentions to the young usurper. Mephirium wasted no time in sprinting at his opponent. His legs cried out in protest, but the force willed him onward. Blood spilled from numerous open wounds on his body, and breath came to him in heaving gasps - still, he ran.

The invisible hands reached for him. Mephirium forced them away. Waves of utter annihilation that utterly destroyed everything they touched roared toward Mephirium. The usurper erected an ethereal barrier and charged through them. When a few meters remained, Mephirium leaped into the air. The Dark Lord fired another tendril of lightning. Mephirium met it with his lightsaber.

He fell at the Dark Lord's side a moment later. His lightsaber drove forward, piercing the false god's black heart. Mephirium looked into his eyes, watched the life begin to leave him.

The force rumbled in his triumph.

"I won't allow you to destroy what little remains," Mephirium wheezed, "This galaxy is not yours to rule. You are no god!"

The body fell to the ground. Mephirium doused the lighsaber and clipped it to his belt. He limped on shattered legs to the throne; the pride that filled him outweighed the physical agony.

It was with great relief that Mephirium settled himself on the throne. He remained there for a moment, content to simply rest, before opening a comm frequency to [member="Aelius Varangian"].

"It is done," he wheezed, "Send the message. Make sure the loyalists hear of it. There is no more reason for them to fight. So long as they cooperate, they will not be harmed. There is a place for them in the new order."

He didn't wait for a response, simply tossing the comm unit aside. There he sat, upon the throne of he who had torn the galaxy asunder. Time would tell if Mephirium would truly take his place, but for now, he had won.

The Dark Lord of the Sith was dead. The fallen had been avenged. In that moment, amidst the rubble, Mephirium allowed himself to drink in his victory and the brief peace that came with it.

"I've finished it."

 

[Captain Love]

A savage cut of the paw dispelled the rotten wind. Warok's eyes glowered, black fires in those tar pits.

"You're no better than a frightened Guapa along a mountain road. Stubbornly digging in your hooves at the slightest command from your betters. No brains to move, even when the cliff is crumbling beneath you."

He toddled forward with tiny steps, oozing disgust. "What is it you civilized people call it?"

Warok's round ears wiggled to and fro. "Ah yes. An ass."

[member="Vilox Pazela"].

 

[Grrwunhoooll Agaburry]

Location: ???

Icy blue eyes suddenly burst open in shock. A sizable ripple in the force had been produced. Letting out a sigh the pale Epicanthix slowly got up from his meditative position. His thoughts wavering about the over whelming sensation that had just passed over him. Slowly coming to a stand from his meditative position, Nulgath was unknowingly in shock. It was obvious just from his eyes searching around the dim lit meditative room withim the capital ship that the Epicanthix was looking for a reason and explanation.

Searching himself internally Nulgath smirked. His thoughts dwelled on the familiarity of the presence, a presence he last sense when he was an Acolyte at Coruscant. Slowly the smirk grew into a grin and suddenly a smile as Nulgath came to the conclusion. The Dark Lord of the Sith had fallen. He was dead, gone and judging by the disturbance in the force... Gone for good. " The years I have waited... just for this. " Nulgath exclaimed in his ship. Turning to the stand of armor he could only gaze at the dirty and war torn suit. The suit was too big for himself and never belonged to Nulgath. It was a the relic and only piece of a friend. A dark jedi who was Kezeroth.

Stepping closer to the armor Nulgath said rather lowly " Someone has avenged your death, Old friend. Someone that I would like to see very soon..."

 

[Darth Kentarch]

AREA: The Palace Courtyard
ALLIES: The Revolutionary Sith
ENEMIES: Loyalists One Sith

Kentarch blood-shine lightsaber blade sliced through the torso of another loyalist pig. His charge was completely unhindered as advanced across the courtyard of the palace, his mercenaries just behind him. "Secure the area!" He shouted. Blaster bolts whizzing past the Sith as the loyalists made one last stand. Yet in a few moments that seemed to last forever Kentarch's forces had shored up everyone outside, with only small bouts of from enemy combatants erupting on the perimeters.

Then Kentarch felt it, a sudden shift in the force. The Dark Side so strong the palace itself shook, the power of the force cascaded across the battlefield, gripping everyone to their center being. The fateful blow had been dealt. Kentarch's heart was slamming in his chest, his hands slightly shaking as he questioned the sudden change in the Living Force. "Is it over?!" He shouted. "I need a comm line to the people inside the palace." One of the junior officers was already on the communication line. "Sir." The man finally said. "Its over, the Dark Lord is dead." Kentarch took a long moment to think, but there was no time for celebration. There was a plan in place he needed execute in this occasion.

"Get me a planet wide communication line, all broadcast frequencies." Kentarch said to one his men. After a few moments one of the Mercenary Captains had arrived with a special broadcast communication device, he made sure that each of [member="Cyrus Tregessar"]'s capital ships got the message. Kentarch then took a moment to collect himself before speaking. "We are ready sir." The officer said. Kentarch stepped forward in front of the holo-recorder and after a moment spoke.

"This is Darth Kentarch, First Inquisitor of [member="Darth Mephirium"] the new Dark Lord of Sith. At this moment the One Sith, the Domain of the One Sith, and the Rule of One has officially been dissolved. The old Dark Lord is dead. In place the former domains of the One Sith shall be reorganized into a new order. At this time we ask all loyalists to the former Dark Lord to lay down their arms. All who swear loyalty to Darth Mephirium will be shown amnesty. We ask for all of you to remain calm and wait for further instructions until this transition can be completed." Kentarch spoke and as he finished, the feed ended.

Now Darth Kentarch Waited.

 

[Tyberius Fel]

Aelius Varangian wearily tugged the whizzing vibrohead of his force staff from the shattered corpse of a loyalist trooper. The corpse fell down onto a stack of his fallen comrades. A pleasant day's work. Mused the Royal Guard to himself sardonically, as he rolled his shoulders. Fatigue was beginning to seep into his muscles, but that was nothing that couldn't be cured with another infusion of raw force power into his muscles and the raw willpower to succeed. It was at that point, did the Royal Guard's helmet implanted commlink buzzed to life with the exhausted, wheezing voice of his sovereign: Mephirium.

The Royal Guard's tensed, heart stopped. The Dark Lord was dead. Was restoration of the old Empire truly this close at hand? Nevertheless, he had his orders. Spread the word.

Kicking another corpse to the side, he readjusted his commlink to the frequency of the 501st and other local allied forces. "Operation Regicide is considered a success, enemy Dark Lord is confirmed deceased. Repeat, Operation Regicide is a success, Dark Lord is deceased. Standby for additional orders, which may include military action against loyalist holdouts. Communicate this directive to all allied military units. Long live Emperor Mephirium!" Aelius activated his helmet integrated microphone and announced loudly to the loyalist forces: "Your Dark Lord is dead, there is no reason to fight for a corpse! Submit peacefully and Emperor Mephirium will ensure a place for you all in his new reign!"

@Everyone

 

[Aklanor]

Aklanor felt a disturbance in the force, the pathetic mortal they called the dark lord must be dead. The one sith was a weak government, and he probably snapped like a twig, she would gladly join whoever this Mephirium was would probably be better than the old pathetic dark lord, anything would be better than him.

Aklanor made her way to the outside of the building, where she saw the massive army that had amassed outside, it was large, very large, whoever this new dark lord was had connections, that was a good thing.

Then the broadcast from one Darth Kentarch went over the airwaves. He announced a new order, and that loyalists would be granted mercy if they bowed to the new dark lord. Aklanor pitied these mortals and their concept of "mercy", she believed the loyalists should have been slowly and painfully executed, that was what she would have done. Sadly these pitiful mortals decided that showing benevolence was more important than power, but then again the old dark lord was a lazy ignorant ruler who did not do what he should have been doing, ruling the galaxy, hopefully this new order would be like the empire of old, ruling with an iron fist, and ruling through fear and preying on the ignorance on the weak, and destroying any and all lightsiders.

But for now Aklanor watched, as she let the beauty of the chaos sink in, this would be the beginning of a new era!

 

[Krayzen Dratos]

OOC: Per the rules, 24 hours have past)

Darth Kentaurch’s flag ship, the Dark Blade Dreadnought known as the Blood Dusk laid there in ruin, the ship not even moving in to defend itself. Admiral Veston so the powerful Dreadnought get ripped apart into pieces, as its reactor exploded. He so large pieces of its hull explode, and go to all directions, including where the Sith Academy stood; the usurpers that guarded the temple would most likely be dead, as no piece of armor would be to help someone withstand such a powerful blast.

“Are there any civilians there?”

“No sir; civilians have moved away from areas with heavy loyalist, and usurper activity.”

“ Excellent. Have the starfighters continue to guard us. We are going to go and attack the Dark Lord’s Palace, and defend it from Darth Mephirium, and his usurpers.”

As they left, the fleet moving in an upward direction like it is returning to orbit, Admiral Veston was not done making orders.

“Have the starfighters that have finished off the enemy’s artillery continue to maintain air superiority. I want them to bomb the enemy’s shuttles that are on the Dark Lord’s Palace.”

Since the enemy didn’t have any weaponary to threaten the aircraft, the starfighters would be able to destroy the shuttles. As they went to make a bombing run, the pilots continued to be aware and vigilant, something that they had honed for years in combat.
Despite him moving on to phase two of his plan, that did not mean that he was not aware of the other fleet’s positions. He knew where Admiral Cryus Tregessar’s fleet was, and Darth Hauntress’ fleet, and he, his ships, and those that were under his command were ready to pick up movements from them, as well as from the loyalist fleet.

“Sir, annual reports have come in. All systems continue to function at maximum effectiveness. Per your orders, we are continuing to monitor of all frequencies and communication channels. Per our reports, there are no usurper starfighters except for the small amount of shuttles that are in the Dark Lord Palace Hangar.”

It was then the Admiral heard a planet-wide broadcast that had been done by [member="Darth Kentarch"]. The Admiral simply responded by stating “Continue to maintain air space superiority, and be vigilant. Send in reports in encrypted channels to Admiral Tregressar.” He stated.

MEANWHILE​

​

The Anzat's men continued to fire at the 501st, killing those that threatened the Major General, and Krayzen's master, Konrad Von Grimmelshausen. Some of the bolts that had been sent also hit [member="Bethany Haverford"]. Unfortunately for the Anzat, she would not be dead. She however would be knocked out, and out of the fight entirely.

Krayzen then so [member="Rexus"] appraoch his master. His troopers grabbed their blaster rifles, and fired blaster bolts toward him. Some were behind, and others were in his sides, as well as some being in front of him. The blaster bolts came in all directions, and if the man dropped his protection bubble, he would be met with rounds of blaster bolts coming from an automatic rifles. If they hit him however, he wouldn't die, but he would, for some reason(considering that the blaster bolts aren't stun rounds), be knocked out.

This all came before Mephirium had killed the DL, and therefore, Krayzen would continue to be vigilant, being well aware that no one was behind him so there wouldn't be any attacks he couldn't see. He was ready to respond to any attack(s).

 

[Soeht]

“Congratulations,” Soeht told [member="Darth Mephirium"].

Standing near the broken door to the Dark Lord’s chambers, Soeht seemed to have arrived just at the end of Mephirium’s fight. The two Imperial guards Soeht was with were nowhere to be seen.

Soeht looked toward the fallen Dark Lord. Visible, black “mist” emanated from the Dark Lord’s body. The dark side of the Force still flowed through his body. Yet, it was released in a single instant as a visible shockwave of negligible push. A "death explosion" typical of powerful Sith Lords.

Then, there was nothing left to feel from the body left by the Dark Lord. Soeht turned his attention back to Mephirium.

Lifting his right hand toward Mephirium, Soeht asked, “Tired? I can fix that if you le̶t̡ m̨e.”

 

[Darth Kentarch]

After the broadcast Kentarch made his way into the throne room. For the most part, the fighting had stopped. There were a few holdouts here and there, but it was nothing the Sith Lord couldn't slip past. He reached up to his ear piece, activating the communicator to speak to his men. "Give me status updates on the battle and response from other Sith Lords and high ranking military officials as this situation develops." Kentarch said, rounding another hallway. He knew the other Sith Lords may not yield or swear loyalty to [member="Darth Mephirium"], a power struggle could likely break out between the Sith. Despite the success of this operation, the future was now unclear.

Darth Kentarch pushed his way through the great doors of the throne room. Only to find [member="Soeht"] and Mephirium. His eyes narrowed at the humanoid who stood in the presence of the new Dark Lord, he appeared to be ready to conjure something. Mephirium on the other hand seemed exhausted from the battle from the Dark Lord. "What is the meaning of this?" He questioned Soeht. Naturally his hands fell to his lightsaber, ready to strike or defend himself.

 

[Cyrus Tregessar]

The message came through as Cyrus was admiring the chaotic efficiency with which a Hypervelocity Cannon was able to destroy a frigate. The Dark Blade, due to it's design having frame of its HVC mounted to the keel of the ship, could maintain the same rate of fire as the original ground based HVC, which came out to roughly two shots a second. The impact of solid projectiles on shields was always interesting watch, the kinetic power visibly splashed across the projection of force in waves, and the projectile itself was usually atomized by the impact. Once the shields failed it was a simply matter of literally astronomical amounts of force being directed onto a very small surface area. The resulting impacts often created small explosions form the sheer release of energy, or otherwise from secondary detonations and equipment and machinery onboard the target vessel failed catastrophically. Bits of armor, hull plating and other debris would be ejected from the impact point, or else pushed further into the ship.

It was something like a beautiful sight, if you were that sort of person.

So it was that the word of the Dark Lord of the Sith's demise was quietly mentioned to Cyrus as he sat on the bridge of the Contempt, delivered as if it were a routine report. For several moments Cyrus sat idle, still watching the frigate disintegrate under the barrage but with his mind focused on this sudden complication. There was a lot to consider in a very short time, it was anyone's guess as to how lenient this new would-be Dark Lord actually planned to be, or how long his goodwill would last, assuming he could be trusted in the first place.

But the other question was whether it benefited Cyrus to continue to resist at all. What was the status of the old power structure? Were the old Hands and Voices and the like still alive, and would they continue to resist? A lot of uncertainty and no easy answers.

He had a key advantage. He was the ranking Imperial Naval officer in the system, and should he desire could make it impossible or at least very, very painful for the usurpers to try and leave the system. But then what?

The containment of the frigate's reactor failed suddenly, and for a moment space lit up as a new sun was born, bloomed, and abruptly collapsed. Scattered debris roughly hinting of hte outline of a ship floated about in its wake for a few moments before their drift patterns took them apart, and then there was nothing that had ever resembled a ship on the view screen.

Cyrus rose, and signaled for silence on the bridge.

"Hail Admiral Kun of the defense fleet and Admiral Veston, encrypted laser comms, order an immediate ceasefire, but advise both to remain at combat readiness. Then get a secure tightbeam pulse down to the palace, directed to Grand General [member="Isamu Baelor"]."

Cyrus' fleet ceased their firing almost immediately, the only delay being however long it took the orders to be relayed. Whether the other fleets complied was for the moment a secondary issue, one Cyrus planned to handle later. For now he was concentrated on the message for the Grand General, which was transferred to his command console only moments after he had sat back down.

"General Baelor, we meet again. I am interested in the status of you and your forces planetside, and would like to speak privately if possible, for an interesting opportunity has presented itself to us..."

[member="Darth Kentarch"] | [member="Krayzen Dratos"] | [member="Aelius Varangian"] | [member="Darth Mephirium"] | [member="Isamu Baelor"] | [member="Konrad von Grimmelshausen"] | [member="Ajira Cardei"]

 

[Placeholder 04]

(Posting to give a bit of closure to things. Folks don't want a Dark Lord. Doing this instead.)

"No, [member="Soeht"], I'll continue on my own power," Mephirium murmured distractedly. There had been a moment of pride in his victory, and then naught but emptiness. He had accomplished that which he had striven to do for so very long: years in fact. The Dark Lord was truly dead, the power vacuum open for Mephirium to fulfill as he saw fit.

But then that wasn't his place, was it?

With great effort, he drew himself up from the chair.

"[member="Darth Kentarch"], you've command of our forces. The battle is over, and any further bloodshed is pointless. Soeht, you know I do not command you, but I trust you will fulfill whatever duties you set for yourself well."

He called upon the force for aid, and it rushed to him in response. His tired limbs were filled with a faint semblance of strength - enough to carry him toward wherever he might go. Bloodied hands rose to draw his cowl over his face.

"So far as the galaxy will know, I perished alongside the Dark Lord. I trust you both will keep my secret, if not..." he simply shrugged, "So be it. If I take the throne now, it will be civil war without end. There is another path I must walk, but know this, we've assured that the Sith are not wracked by stagnation."

He paused.

"One day, I will return. Until that day comes, Kentarch, I trust you will keep Ession safe." He strode toward the doors and stopped alongside Soeht. "We'll meet again eventually. I'm confident we will meet as allies, not foes."

With the last ounce of energy Mephirium could muster, the Sith Lord marched through the ruined doors. The force would provide the aid necessary to make him largely unnoticeable to the forces that followed him.

They had, in the end, been a tool, but a loyal one. He felt a pang of sorrow knowing that he would be leaving Aelius, Satsujin, and Bethany behind, but then they had another path to follow. Zenith Prime awaited them, and the 501st would follow.

Coruscant did not belong to loyalists nor did it belong to the usurpers - it belonged to the people. Mephirium found himself content as he made a line toward the lower levels.

 

[Darth Kentarch]

The moment of tension was cut as [member="Darth Mephirium"] spoke. In the seconds that had followed the slayer of the Dark Lord vanished leaving him and [member="Soeht"] behind. An empty throne. The thoughts of temptation flooded his mind. Or a perilous seat. The battle was won, and by Rites and traditions of the Sith the spoils fell upon the victors. Yet now he doubted if the teachings of the Sith meant anything to the leftovers. The prominent Sith Lords would more likely now only answer to themselves, preparing to stake their own claims on the galaxy. Even now those blind to force, the so called high admirals and generals, they were more likely to carve up what power was to be had of this failed political system, then answer to their rightful masters. Could a true Sith answer to a man that was mute to the force? Even if he took the throne it would never truly be his, unless he struck down Mephirium himself, he would have no right to it. But what were the Sith without a Dark Lord? The galaxy would never know that Mephirium was still alive. Was the Rule of One the 'One Sith' redeemable? Or a heretical cult destined to be forgotten and slip into irrelevance?

To we who dwell in the Force, normal life is little more than pretense. Our only actions of significance are those we undertake in service to the dark side. The words of Darth Tenebrous finally ran through his mind. "Do what you will." Kentarch said to Soeht. Turning he moved swiftly out of the throne room and back through the palace corridors. The fighting had largely stopped, however communications had been somewhat disrupted. Several of the highest ranking mercenaries were waiting at entrance of the palace awaiting news on the Dark Lord.

"They are both dead." Kentarch stated bluntly. "The Dark Lord of the One Sith, and Darth Mephirium, in the end they killed each other." There was no time for idle and silent reflection. Looking at the officers of the rebel forces he gave a quick speech. "Operation Regicide however was still a success. Together we achieved what many have tried and failed to accomplish. It was not the Jedi or the Republic, but an army of mercenaries from the Outer-Rim Territories who assaulted the Galactic Capital, the capital of the One Sith and won. Heavily outnumbered, against overwhelming odds, you stormed the Imperial Palace and the Dark Temple and defeated your foes. This is our victory. A suicide mission we survived." Kentarch continued. "I will return to our home. You have all earned the right to come with me. Remember that today we defeated the One Sith."

A flare was fired into the sky. Bright Green, the signal for the rebels to pull out. The mercenaries quickly loaded up onto their transports. One by one the ships lifted off the ground and back into space. Darth Kentarch boarded his own personal ship The Black Mercury. Kentarch made sure to give message to the loyalist forces that both Dark Lord and Darth Mephirium were dead. Not before long the ships jumped into hyperspace, and began the voyage back to Ession.