Faction Devadevam (Caedes & Friends)

[Darth Carnifex]

Darkness crept across the sand.

A chill wind haunted the air.

From above, a shadow began to devour Horuset. A mass of blackness engulfing the burning orange sun until all but it's thinnest margins were consumed, leaving a dark eclipse to lord over the world of Korriban. From the shadow spilled forth a locust swarm of transports and fighters, descending upon the capital of Dreshdae. Most flew through the air in synchronized patterns, creating a dazzling display of piloting skill in the cold Korribani sky. Only a few would find purchase upon the great thoroughfare leading to the immense citadel at the city's heart.

Cadres of red-robed guards poured out from each transport, some wielding tall standards upon which pendants and banners bearing the crest of the Kainate fluttered wildly in the frigid wind. Descending the lead transport was the Dark Lord of the Kainate Himself, the Eternal Father: Darth Carnifex. His regality was only matched by the malevolent cruelty which radiated out and pervaded everything in His vicinity. His uniform was crisply tailored, emanating those worn by His chief officers but uniquely decorated with the iconography of the Sith.

A tabard hung down from both shoulders, pinned to His left hip and thus only covering half of His broad chest. His collar was high upon His neck, preventing Him from angling His head further down than it already was. His lightsaber hung from the belt cinched around His waist, the dark instrument pulsating with it's own insidious power. At His back were a motley following of ministers and military officials, each as curtly dressed as their Lord. They followed in loose formation behind, keeping their respectable distance but still portraying themselves as slavishly devoted.

The Dark Lord took for Himself the great hall, clearing it out and setting at it's center a throne for His own seat while an oblong stone table had been swiftly erected some distance from it's base. With this secured, the Dark Lord sent forth His emissaries to gather to His side the King of Korriban and his retainers, to meet with Him in all due haste at Dreshdae for a summit to decide the future of the Holy Worlds.

And so He waited, perched upon His throne like the despots of old.

Waiting for the King.

Darth Caedes ​

 

[Darth Caedes]

K I N G O F K O R R I B A N


"Your past wounds are scars, not chains; they mark your survival, not your imprisonment."
​

Outer Rim Territories
Horuset System
Korriban
Tags— Darth Carnifex Elmindra Xitaar Madrona A’Mia

The hiss of venting hydraulics sliced through the cold Korribani air as the King's royal cruiser descended to Dreshdae's sandy, palatial thoroughfare. Its sleek, polished obsidian surface reflected the repressed stellar corona of Horuset's eclipsed light; a subdued and understated silhouette against the chaos of banners and crimson-robed guards fluttering in the wind.

Darth Caedes emerged without need for ceremony, his gait deliberate yet unhurried. He wore the guise of a young man, unblemished and princely, his fine black robes trimmed in subtle gold thread, projecting refinement rather than ostentation. The sharp crown of hammered black metal atop his brow gave him a regal air, though its dark spikes seemed more a warning of defiance than a symbol of fealty to the one who had placed it there. Against the backdrop of Korriban's blood-soaked sands, his simplicity seemed an affront to the relative pageantry Carnifex had painted across the skies.

Admiral Elmindra Xitaar, her shrewd falleen gaze as cool and sharp as Korriban's arctic wind, flanked him on one side, her emerald skin contrasting against the black of her military uniform. On the other, Lord Seer A'Mia Madrona glided with an inhuman gate, her tree-like limbs and appendages veiled beneath flowing robes. Both followed a half step behind, shadows to their King's quiet power.

Where Carnifex commanded through spectacle, Caedes moved as though above the need to impress. His hands remained folded within his sleeves, his eyes fixed on the great hall before him, where the man who had once loomed over his life now waited like an ancient specter clinging to relevance.

The walk was long, the cold biting, yet Caedes gave no indication of discomfort. As he entered the grand hall, his eyes flickered briefly to the oblong table, to where Carnifex perched on high like a Taozin upon its carrion throne.

"Lord Carnifex," Caedes said, his voice even, his tone void of flourish.​

He offered no bow, only the faintest incline of his head—enough to suggest respect without submission. His gaze, sharp as the edge of a vibroblade, lingered on the dark lord for a heartbeat too long, glued there by the cobweb remnants of old fear. Then, he moved towards the table, each step a quiet declaration that no throne, no Dark Lord, no shadow from his past could claim dominion over him now. Condescending to drape fingers atop the chair intended for him, though electing not to use it, he instead remained on his feet, forcing himself to meet the gaze of Carnifex.

"Quite the homecoming," he said, surreptitiously, a voice like dry leaves beneath the crush of a boot.​

"One could almost wonder if the Eternal Father grows insecure in these, his Holy Worlds."​

 

[Madrona A’Mia]

Outer Rim Territories
Horuset System
Korriban​

Having received the summons of her King while deep in study, the Lord Seer had made haste, and though she was preoccupied she ensured that she dressed well for the occasion. Black and dusky purple robes which paired beautifully with her natural color palette, the garments hems stitched intricately with green that matched her eyes. A'Mia's hair was piled high atop her head in locs style vines and she carried herself somewhat smaller that day, standing at just over six feet tall. The details of the summons were of course made available to her, and she was exceedingly attentive to the task at hand when they gathered. However she couldn't help but be a bit distracted by her research once her superiors were otherwise engaged in conversation with each-other.

A'Mia arrived with Darth Caedes and Elmindra Xitaar but she'd lapsed into another thought tangent regarding the rare lichen she was studying even as she drifted in unison with her group. She used those last precious moments of entering the chamber to tap out notes onto her datapad with inhuman speed thanks to being able to type with dozens of fingers. Finally, the calm dry tone of her Lord Master drew A'Mia back to her surroundings at large. The woman blinked as she remembered herself, stowing her datapad as she smiled pleasantly. She inclined in a very slight bow to Darth Carnifex but did not speak, as she was one of the lowest ranking people in the chamber and thought patience was prudence.

 

[Elmindra Xitaar]

Outer Rim | Horuset System | Korriban | Citadel of Dreshdae
Darth Carnifex | Darth Caedes | Madrona A’Mia

________________________________________________

​

The moment the news of the Malsheem's arrival in Korriban space reached her, Elmindra immediately began making preparations with militaristic efficiency. She had been expecting this day would come – the reward of a summit with Darth Carnifex himself. The King and his chosen counsel were to receive the Dark Lord and his retinue in the great citadel of Dreshdae. So Elmindra accompanied Darth Caedes along with Madrona A’Mia to the great hall. For this special occasion, the Falleen's statuesque frame was adorned in dark finery befitting her station as First Lord and Fleet Admiral – elegant and sophisticated in how it flattered her figure, yet polished and militant in how it accentuated her power. A thick cloak about her shoulders kept the chill of Korriban's air from being unbearable as they made their way across Dreshdae's palatial thoroughfare and inside the great citadel.

Unexpectedly, the anticipation of this meeting weighed heavily on Elmindra. In recent years, she had been rubbing elbows with some of the most powerful and influential people in the galaxy and often felt as their equal, even their better, but this… this was different. After decades of service to the Kainite Order, her efforts had finally captured the attention of the Supreme Leader himself, now that she and Caedes enjoyed seemingly endless successes in restoring the ancient homeworld of the Sith to its former glory and beyond. She was proud of what they had achieved here on Korriban and she had anticipated such recognition by the Eternal Father himself to be rewarding. Yet, despite the reverence she felt for the Godhead, she also found herself at odds with his actions as of late – ceding his dominion of the Holy Worlds to Empyrean, even going so far as to adhere to the Worm Emperor's regime and, in doing so, abandon so many of his most loyal Kainites in favor of empowering their persecution by the Dark Counsel and the Inquisition. It felt like a betrayal, more fuel for an insidious resentment of the Sith Order's current regime that had been festering within Elmindra since Sluis Van. Was she a heretic? Or had she just discovered a new frontier for her ambitions? Perhaps what she was building here on Korriban with Caedes was beginning to mean more to her than the Kainite Order.

Conflict and confusion brewed behind her icy scowl and it infuriated her that now of all times her thoughts and feelings betrayed such a profound unease. When she looked to her King, focusing on their connection through the Force, she was pleased to find him entirely within his power as he strode confidently toward the grand hall. Countless times throughout their partnership, she had been a steadying force for Caedes when confronting such encounters, but today his assurance bolstered her in a way she hadn't realized she'd needed until she felt it. Despite the Neti's distracted state, her potent presence further emboldened Elmindra's resolve and inspired her to do away with her doubts, instead projecting the power she felt coursing between the three of them.

Elmindra bowed before the Eternal Father in a rare show of deference and stepped up beside Caedes, taking in the sight of the massive Epicanthix atop his throne as his piercing gaze settled upon the three of them. Her King's decidedly candid address to the Dark Lord was unexpected but admittedly impressive. She enjoyed watching him wield his influence so boldly. Elmindra remained outwardly impassive though and held her tongue for now. She was content to bear witness to the exchange, at least at first, until otherwise indicated by her King or directly addressed.​

 

[Darth Carnifex]

The Dark Lord of the Sith watched as the trio passed into the throne room, His eyes marking their movements like a predator observing their prey. It was an apt comparison, for the sheer oppressiveness of being in the Eternal Father's presence was enough to draw forth long forgotten fears; terror hardwired into their genetic code, primordial and dark. He was the epitome of their darkest impulses given flesh, draped in the finery of a conqueror, slaver, and murderer.

To look upon Him was to court His gaze, inviting them to fall prey to His withering attention. Subjected to such scrutiny was akin to be laid bare before a spotlight, shorn of anything that could protect you from it's harmful rays, where no secret could ever find refuge. But to find His attention leaving you was somehow even worse, a cavernous, yawning void that ached with a twisted desire to again be looked upon by the Butcher King. His magnetic presence made it difficult to look away, drawing all eyes to Him like light consumed in the depths of a black hole.

"Insecurity is the providence of lesser lifeforms, the Sith do not trade in weakness of the psyche. Those of us who find themselves afflicted with such malady have their uses, though they are few. But, such weakness can be a sharp tool when manipulated properly." The Dark Lord rose from His throne, and began to descend the dais one methodical step at a time. Each one was like the tolling of a great bell, resounding throughout the chamber and echoing off it's many walls. Even when He reached level ground with the others, He towered over them by a considerable degree.

"The proper utilization of tools is something the Sith have long perfected. It is a simple feat to peer into another's heart and to find what drives them. Even the hearts of our enemies betray their motivations. The Jedi seek peace and justice. The false Imperials, order and respect. The Mandalorians, honor and vengeance. Even among the Sith, there are many who would gladly follow the strings of their heart. For spite, for power, for freedom. For a crown, even."

He stopped right before the table, posture rigid. "The Empire is shifting. The Holy Worlds have reached a point of pacification to be formally integrated with the wider Empire. This union has coincided with the decapitation of the Sepulchral priesthood, an action which I have seen expedited. In the ruling priest's place, I have seized control of the Sepulchral. The power of those old liches will be made to serve the Empire, and no longer will they hold the blade above our necks. Once again, we are the ones holding the blade." Were it possible that the galaxy had but one neck, then He need only strike once, but such were the difficulties of maintaining such a vast territory.

"Korriban is to remain their center, but new avenues of operation are to be opened across the Empire and beyond. The question stands as to whether or not the King of Korriban's ambitions can serve alongside those of the greater Empire, or if they have become intolerable."

Darth Caedes | Madrona A’Mia | Elmindra Xitaar ​

 

[Darth Caedes]

K I N G O F K O R R I B A N


"Never silence your resentment, for it can be a shrewd teacher."
—Darth Caedes, ruminations...
​

Outer Rim Territories
Horuset System
Korriban
Tags— Darth Carnifex Elmindra Xitaar Madrona A’Mia

Darth Caedes stood unmoving, following Carnifex with not but his eyes, his shoulders squared, hands folded beneath sleeves.

"Intolerable?" Caedes echoed, as though savoring the words himself, something unreadable passing through his expression.​

How dare he question Caedes' loyalty—Caedes, even as Korriban lay bruised and bleeding from its devotion to the Order, unrecognized and unappreciated by the Empire's blind Worm, nor by servants like Carnifex. His voice was a razor drawn slow.

"Korriban's ambitions are the Order's ambitions," he explained through tight lips.​

Which was, of course, to say nothing about the ambitions of its King.

"As they have always been."​

He let the pause stretch, let the words of their conversation ricochet and echo round the great stone room, silently dying, muffled by its unseen corners. Then, in one fluid motion, unfolding like spider's legs amidst the new quiet, Caedes hands fell to the table's surface and spread themselves wide, ridged and steepled.

"My reach extends far beyond the borders of any one world," he boasted without flourish, as if reciting any other well known fact.​

"So too does the hand of Korriban reach through every layer of galactic society; its fingers are deep in the pockets of the wealthiest and most powerful—or else pulling their strings."​

Resentment, cold yet controlled, festered beneath the surface of his calm. Korriban had bled dry for the Empire—bled because he had allowed it. And now, to stand here, measured and doubted...

"I am ready to serve, my Lord," the words tasting of bile in his mouth. It was supposed to be different, now that he was King.​

"The former Sepulchral," spitting the word, "thought to take root here already. They too challenged Korriban's might. Tsiss nu kots ra tave tuk'leh," he said, accented in the old Sith tongue.​

Now, their ashes join the sands.

 

[Darth Carnifex]

The Dark Lord of the Sith, the Eternal Father of the Kainate, listened to the King of Korriban's words in silence; though His very presence weaved a penumbra of disquiet throughout the room, spine-tingling unease permeating every corner. Nothing about the Dark Lord felt natural, the raw strength innate to His ink-kissed flesh far beyond the comprehension of any mortal mind. That great power, to shape the world around Him rather than be shaped by the world, was as close to divinity as any one of them could near reach.

It was this power, the strength of the Dark Side; might beyond measure, which struck all those assembled with the utmost trepidation. When the Dark Lord next spoke, He did so with a predatory glint in His hypnotic eyes. "Very good, Lord Caedes. Presumptuous, but very good. Your devotion to servitude does you credit, far greater than those who seek to usurp the destiny of the Order for their own ambition." His words were sickening to the senses, as though their very utterance transgressed against some foundation law of reality.

"We must be vigilant, Lord Caedes. Falsifiers of our faith lurk in every shadow, perverting the teachings of our great forefathers. The Empire will need faithful custodians like you, Caedes, to uphold the traditions and safeguard them against corruption and misuse." Did the Dark Lord truly believe this of Korriban's King? He made no indication to tell which way or the other, His face an unreadable mask except for an underlying primal hunger; a desire, a covetous lust for the darkest abyss.

A sensation crept along the nape of Caedes' neck, like fingers idly dancing along naked flesh. Though, if observed, nothing would be seen; not even the subtle quivering of the Force. Only shadow, long and spindly, draped around the King's neck like a heavy broach. Hot breath set nerves alight, and though Caedes could not have logically placed the origin -- there was no doubt this was the doing of the Dark Lord before him, who had not moved an inch since He descended the throne.

"I have many uses for you, King Caedes." The use of his regal title was noteworthy, and purposeful. "The Empire has use for you, if you can rise to the task."

Darth Caedes | Madrona A’Mia | Elmindra Xitaar ​

 

[Darth Caedes]

K I N G O F K O R R I B A N


"Wonoksh Qyâsik nun. The Force shall set me free."
—Code of the Sith, sixth stanza...
​

Outer Rim Territories
Horuset System
Korriban
Tags— Darth Carnifex Madrona A’Mia Elmindra Xitaar

Caedes let the silence stretch, let the weight of Carnifex’s words settle upon him.

Servant. Custodian. Useful.​

How many times had he heard those words before? How many times had they been beaten into him? Carnifex thought himself clever. Thought himself immutable. Thought himself above the petty ambitions of lesser men. And yet, even now, he did not see the truth.

He still sees the boy.​

​

The weak, desperate apprentice who had knelt, finally broken, before Empress Matsu Xiangu, knelt before demons like Cryax Bane, Darth Carnifex, collared and bruised. The impulsive, untamed whelp who had once begged for his mercy and endured his torments.

He still thinks you are that creature.​

He is wrong! Once, Caedes would have let his fury take him. He would have reached for the Force without thought, without patience, letting it erupt from him in raw, unbridled devastation. That had been the way of things, back when his name had been Nejaa, when he had walked among Jedi who feared him just as much as they needed him.

They had called him dangerous. Spoken of prophecy in hushed tones when they thought he would not hear. A child whose power was too vast, too terrible, to be anything but a blade. A weapon to wield in their failing war against the One Sith. Yet that power had never been theirs to shape.

They had feared him because they could not control him. Because the Force did not whisper through him in a familiar way, did not soothe. It roared. A vast, untamed ocean writhing through him, stormy, threatening to pull him under, seething beneath his flesh and glowing up through the scars and cracks. In his youth, that power had been too much. Now, it was not enough.

Korriban was his. He had bound himself to it, body and soul, threading his will into its mending leylines, its Nexus-hearts, the world veins, stitching his presence into its marrow and joining them as one. The weight of that dominion settled 'round him—not a weapon, not a servant, not even merely a Sith, either. A King.

And a King did not rage. He did not lash out. A King commanded.

Caedes exhaled, slow and controlled, letting his fingers slide back across the table's surface toward him and reaching out with his will...

The Force obeyed.​

Not in the reckless way it once had, with chaos and carnage, but with a time-taught precision—the elegance of a scalpel rather than the ruin of a hammer. Strands of telekinetic force wove themselves into a complicated latticework of unseen power before him, spiraling outward, reaching and branching. And then—with the slightest shift of his fingers, forming a claw with his right hand, the weave snapped toward Carnifex, seeking to ensnare; to hoist the Dark Lord up and toss him backwards, into one of the thick stone columns opposite Caedes. The chamber groaned as if the very stone of this place answered to his will.

Caedes straightened, smoothing his sleeves, unhurried yet deliberate. When he spoke, it was a quiet thing. Not rage. Not defiance. Certainty.

“You mistake me for something which once was.”​

​

He turned and stepped forward, measured, circling the table's edge, shadows and torchlight splitting his face with jagged lines.

“I do not serve from a place of fear. I do not kneel from weakness. You will not steer me as a beast on a tether.”​

​

Another step, fingers gently tracing the tops of chairs, the air shivering in his presence, pressurized between the two Lords.

“Korriban is no tool, though neither is it a rebel. It is bound to the will of the Force, and the Force has chosen this Empire.”​

​

One final step, close enough now that the air between them rippled and quaked, as if thick with something unseen, the wrong ends of two magnets pushed together.

“You may seek my counsel. You may claim my alliance. But do not think to use me, Carnifex.”​

His eyes burned.

“I am not yours.”​

​

 

[Madrona A’Mia]

Outer Rim Territories
Horuset System
Korriban​

A'Mia fell motionless in a way that few living things could, there was no rise and fall of her chest nor subtle musculature that fluttered 'neath bark-like skin. The only thing that still marked her as a living creature was her eyes, pools of blue-green scrutiny, which moved to track the Butcher King's movements. His aura invited, nay demanded attention and so A'Mia observed him keenly while absorbing his every word.

Though matters of politics and particularly those regarding institutions of faith would never be her strong suit, A'Mia was particularly well versed in the flow of power between natural (or unnatural) entities and an uncanny ability to observe them in the Weave. What she was witnessing was more akin to the dance of power between two elemental titans than a discussion between mere organisms of flesh and blood, though their humanoid forms might belie that truth.

The words of Darth Carnifex settled over them all, then silence stretched. For A'Mia it seemed to stretch on into the infinite for a timeless moment as all at once her senses were alight with the upwelling of her Lord's power. Her strange and sensitive eyes watered as she was witness to Darth Caedes calling upon just a fraction of Korriban's power, of his power.

Something in her mind registered a cascade effect, the invisible twang of one thread in the Weave reverberating through all its neighbors until the ripple unfolded into new threads of possibility. It was not often such visions came to her, but they'd grown more frequent the past year or so. A'Mia's form unconsciously coiled slightly as the room creaked and her Master spoke, his words carrying a weight that struck new cords, causing new ripples. With each syllable she witnessed a continuation of that initial cascade and watched as the fabric of the Weave began restructuring itself. She knew instinctively that it was not just the King responsible for this reshaping, but also the presence of Carnifex and, in some small way, herself and Elmindra Xitaar too.

Awe kept the Lord Seer silent and station kept her standing tall, though she was a mere seedling amongst veritable giants. A'Mia awaited the response or rebuttal of their guest, eyes gleaming with visions of all that was and all that could be.

 

[Elmindra Xitaar]

Hands clasped behind her back, Elmindra Xitaar held a concentrated stillness in observance of the exchange. She did not speak, but she did listen, and she understood. Darth Carnifex descended toward them from his throne, speaking of tools, of motivations, of the bending of will. To simpler minds, perhaps his words may have appeared to be nothing more than a philosophical musing on the nature of control, a proclamation of Sith supremacy over all things, but the deeper currents were clear to the Falleen woman. He had not come here to reward them for their efforts, or to replenish their resources that had been wasted by the Worm Emperor. He had come to assert dominion upon a force he suspected to be unaligned with the greater Order through demeaning Korriban's leadership as a tool to be properly utilized. A lesser ruler might have bristled, perhaps even recoiled, at such an implication, but not Darth Caedes .

The Empire was indeed shifting, a shift in which Korriban's leadership had played a crucial part, yet Carnifex recounted to them the pacification of the holy worlds and the decapitation of the Sepulchral priesthood as if they were his alone to claim, as if Korriban and its King had not been on the front lines of the effort. It further insinuated the Dark Lord's desire to maintain that Caedes was nothing more than a tool, albeit a useful one.

"Intolerable?" Caedes echoed, contemplative. With calm composure, he met the Dark Lord's accusation with assurance, from the powerful alliances they'd forged to the extermination of the Sepulchral here on Korriban, making it clear in no uncertain terms that he was ready to serve but that he would not cower before the Dark Lord, nor yield to unwarranted scrutiny. She could feel the bitterness woven within his measured words though. That same resentment at how their efforts, their sacrifices, continued to be overlooked and under-appreciated festered within her as well. Yet still, Caedes pledged himself.

In response, Carnifex offered praise for Caedes' devotion to servitude, naming him a faithful custodian, as if to be his tool was the greatest of honors. Elmindra noted the shift in the room, a tangible pressure settling over her, as if gravity itself was steadily increasing, as if the planet beneath them subtly stirred. Errant grains of sand upon the stone floors seemed to vibrate in response to their King's ire. She narrowed her eyes. There was something more between the two men, a deeper context that rattled Caedes to the core.

"I have many uses for you, King Caedes," Carnifex stated. The deliberate use of title was not lost on Elmindra. A declaration of worth, a reminder of duty, and a tightening of the leash all in one. But her King was unbound.

A ripple in the Force allowed her to see what would transpire a heartbeat before Caedes wove his will into the intricate latticework of nullifying power and sent it careening toward Carnifex. Such aggressive action further confirmed Elmindra's suspicions that, despite his composed exterior, Caedes' patience had been worn thin by the Dark Lord's condescension. Elmindra braced for what might transpire next as the King made his stance clear, the words passing his lips like a blade drawn slowly from its sheath.

"I am not yours."​

 

[Darth Carnifex]

The cords bound around the Dark Lord's body with surprising ease, lifting Him off the ground and pinning Him to one of the nearby pillars. All the while, the Dark Lord's expression remained unchanged, unphased by the sudden infliction of force upon His body. He listened in silence while the King of Korriban spoke with a measured quiet that sprung from assuredness, not anger or fear. As was known to the Dark Lord, the King was neither foolhardy nor reckless, his place upon the throne would not have been tolerated if he had been.

Still.

He had much to learn.

Carnifex pressed the tip of His right index finger against the energy web entwined around His body, causing the strand to bend and warp like an elastic cord. He let His finger slip away, the cord rebounding back with an audible snap like that of a whip. The Dark Lord inhaled and exhaled slowly. Unlike other Sith, the Dark Lord did not call upon the Force, nor did He bend it to His will. The Force was not something the Dark Lord channeled, it was something that was intrinsic to the Dark Lord; internal and immutable.

His will did not impose upon reality.

It became reality.

Color leeched from around the Dark Lord, bleeding away like paint in water. Within the muted void, the Force itself shrank away. The cords which had tightened around the Dark Lord disintegrated into nothingness, for there was no longer any Force to animate them. Lowering to the floor, the Dark Lord stood tall and statuesque, expression never shifting. Color then rushed back into fill the emptiness, as did the Force. But where it had been deprived would never again be the same, the wrongness persisted.

"You are wrong, King Caedes. The will of the Force forsakes this Empire. Only our will drives us forward. It is the last chain, one we intent to break for all the galaxy. My vision, and that of the Emperor, intersected. We are the Empire. In time, you will be called upon to serve again, as you have thus far. It remains with you to hold steadfast, or to suffer with those fettered by fate."

Darth Caedes | Madrona A’Mia | Elmindra Xitaar ​