Flesh and Blood

[Darth Hauntruss]

[Outer Space]

Hauntruss completed her meditation. Black ink framed eye-lids retreated to unveil golden sith orbs which gazed into the abyss of the darkness of her closed meditation capsule. For all her powerful will and impressive displays in the dark side, Darth Hauntruss Imperial Warlord and Warmaster of the Inquisition Fleet, could not escape the fact that her body - was weak. Centuries of wallowing as a spirit in the ether of the force underworld condemned her to a cycle of creating, wasting and recreating a flesh form to hold her anchored to the world of the material. Once again the flesh bound by dark Sith blood magic was beginning to decay as the power Hauntruss possessed and unleashed wore it away.

A puff of air was flushed from her nostrils. Hauntruss sighed and the lights within her capsule brightened. She had taken to wearing full dark robes to hide the fact that her very skin and flesh was beginning to rot. Her dark red inked skin, soaked in dark magic, was beginning to crack in literal streaks across her arms. Returning her black gloves over her hands, Hauntruss reached for the side panel installed into her seat and pressed the code which opened the top half of her capsule. Swivelling her chair about, she turned to the monitor and patched a line to the bridge of her personal Star Destroyer the Tormentor. The elderly but noble face of her Coruscant elite born Admiral appeared in a grim faced stare.

"Yes my lady." Admiral Andrew Tharsis replied.

"What of our course?" said Hauntruss. "We are right on schedule..." Tharsis nodded, "We shall arrive at the target world within the hour. The other lords shall be there in tandem, my lady."

"Excellent, Admiral." Hauntruss grinned, "Keep me abreast of your actions. We are to keep this operation silent. Keep to archaic codes of communication, simple messages and coded language. Understood?"

"Crystal your ladyship." Tharsis saluted. The feed cut and Hauntruss let her eyes slip down to look at space directly in front of her. She wondered if the spirit of her old nemesis @Boolon Murr could sense the destruction she was about to unleash. There was still much work to be down, and the heritage of her Ithorian rival would supply a most sufficient sacrifice. Hauntruss did not require obedience, conquest or annexation. This mission was clear and cut - flesh and blood...she needed flesh and blood. Such is the curse of her manufactured existence. Not since the time of Darth Morodin's Sith Empire and the bleeding of Togoria, had Hauntruss consumed so much death to prolong her mortal coil.

Pressing against the arms of her seat she rose. Clean cut and sewn together high collared red uniform hugged her form while strands of black capes fell from under the epilettes of each of her shoulders. A whining mechanical sigh announced her exist and she made for the observation levels below the main bridge. Outside the most elite vanguard of her Imperial Inquisition Fleet was assembled. Inside, all along the corridors of the higher decks of the Tormentor, Hauntruss' personal stormtrooper legion -the Black Dragoons - her most fanatically loyal murderers assembled in their black armor below. Metal and leather clanged as she marched to the open chamber that gazed into outer space.

A black clad stormtrooper filed behind her and saluted. "Master we are assembled." Captain Drakon barked.

"Good Commander." Hauntruss hissed. "This operation will be similar to Togoria, but the significance will be greater due to the world's connection to the light side ....and the former Core-held Republic."

"Your orders Master?" Drakon inquired.

"Kill and burn. Commander. Kill and burn." Hauntruss grimly announced. "But, keep the bodies intact. No explosive assaults, save those for infrastructure. I require bodies whole, Commander, understood?"

"Absolutely Master." Drakon bowed.

"Then let us begin." Hauntruss smiled.

[[member="Darth Vornskr"] [member="Darth Ferus"]]

 

[Darth Carnifex]

The darkness of the void was oppressive, it's crushing intensity closing in all around to suffocate and throttle, but there were those who had become so accustomed to the eldritch wastes that the void held no sway over them. In turn they held unadulterated mastery over it's depths, their bodies now conduits for the will of the shadows to course freely and unabashed. And for a time it continued to flow as freely as a stream rolled over the rocks and dirt to flow into the wider basin of the Force, but there was something altering the flow... a wriggling malevolence that changed the flow of the stream to coalesce into a artificial well. The dark waters seeped into the molested dirt, corruption now rife throughout the soil, strangling the plant-life in all directions as noxious fumes burst forth from the ground to pollute the air with hate. Such vivid visions assaulted the subconscious of the Sith Lord sitting silent and still as a statue atop the towering throne that dominated the bridge of the Sith-Imperial Star Destroyer, the 'Black Iron Tyrant', as it cut a clear and clean path through space and time before erupting out of hyperspace alongside a cadre of other similar vessels.

His eyes opened, and hate-filled orbs of yellow and red glared out over the command deck as well-dressed Imperial officers milling about like bees as they guided the ship into position within the flotilla of gathering vessels in the dark. A single man dared approach the throne, and knelt deeply and with reverence towards the monolithic Sith who sat perched (like a gargoyle) on the throne.

"Milord, we've come out of lightspeed as you commanded. Our ships are falling into formation, and we only await your further order."

The Sith Lord's lips cracked as they widened to create a smile, "Very good, commander. Keep in tight formation, and send word to assemble the legions."

Rear-Admiral Omarest Croscal bowed again, and curtly turned away to perform the bidding of his vile Lord. While he kept his lips shut and his mind vacant of any abrasive or doubtful thoughts about the upcoming operation on Ithor, he couldn't help but allow a flicker of cautious anxiety to fleetingly flash across his mind before setting about into his work. As word filtered down through the ranks, the bowels of the ship became an even more turbulent whirl of activity as the soldiers stationed deep within the monstrous ship stirred and began to prime their weapons, fasten together their pitch-black armor, and lead machines of war to the frontal hanger bay as they watched with hungry eyes at the planet that loomed like a spot of blue-green paint against a backdrop of eternal night.

None were as hungry as Highlord Osbasid, Champion of the Blackblade Guard, and chief executioner of his master's eternal will. He towered above all of the other assembled soldiers as they arrayed themselves ceremoniously across the loading deck of the Star Destroyer's hanger bay, a sea of faceless butchers and brigands dreaming of bloody pillage and decimation of the innocent. Their minds addled by dark magicks and combat stims to think purely aggressive and monstrous thoughts, but even so they remained still as statues as their bodies were tense with anticipation. They would not move a muscle until given the order to do so by their wicked Lord, who stared wanting at the far-off planet with hunger even more intense than all of their's combined.

Darth Vornskr stared at the blackness for a moment or two longed before barking an order to one of his many subordinates; "Contact the 'Tormentor', and alert the Warmaster that we only await the signal."

[ [member="Darth Hauntruss"] [member="Darth Ferus"] ]

 

[Darth Vaildra]

There were somethings Lord Sebastian would never say or even let prying minds intrude to find what his deep in his mind. Truth be told he found this conquest to be pointless and unneeded. What was the reason for this mass genocide? To preserve a Sith Lord whose body was once again becoming too weak.

In his studies of Darth Bane this would be an opportunity to slay the weakened Lord and take their mantel as their own, but this was the One Sith and not the Sith Empire; a fact he constantly had to remind himself of. So then why did Lord Sebastian come to something he viewed as pointless?

He had plans and needed help later down the road and by helping a Lord he would be more easily able to get aid from them later. He stood on the viewing deck of the ship he was on along with other Sith. His once white hair now had the hint of grey, something he liked. His attire was that of a man of wealth clad in all black.

In his right hand was a cane with the head of a snake. He hoped to find opposition here and continue his practice with Shadow Shaping and controlling fear to instill into his enemies, but now he waited like a snake ready to strike.
[member="Darth Vornskr"] [member="Darth Hauntruss"]

 

[Darth Pyrrhus]

The red hands of the conductor flowed through the chill air, as he guided his orchestra of wailing screams of agony. Today, he was a musician, and he was forcing his singers to hit tones their voices had never made before. He was allowing the weak to become something more, through him. They had forsaken their lives when they had permitted themselves to be captured on Balmorra. Now, they served as living training dolls for the Togruta Knight to experiment upon.

The large chamber reeked of death and blood spilled. His toys were out of their cages, but he had stripped them of any chains. Their bodies were locked in place by the power of Darth Pyrrhus’ mind. While a simple training exercise for Pyrrhus, it was a very gruesome affair for the two individuals involved. They were brothers too, he had learned. Now they stood in front of one another, staring into each others’ eyes with a dagger in hand. With a hand stretched forwards, the blades carved into the other’s flesh, tracing a half circular path from hip to ribs on the opposing side. The rest of their bodies were frozen in place. Their hands moved on their own, and the two male Humans were reduced to mere witnesses to the show their Togruta master was putting on. While he did not permit them to act, he allowed them to feel every ounce of pain delivered upon them. Pyrrhus relished in it, drinking in their misery.

They were less than his slaves, they were ants to his overpowering hive mind. Thourgh a sinister variation of mentalism, he was imposing his will on their minds, while slowly draining their life. Soon they would be dead. For the most part, they were only kept alive because the Dark Side willed it. They were denied the sweet release of slipping into unconsciousness. The Togruta wanted to master the art of bending minds, and to do so, he wanted them clear and untainted. Observing the effect he had on the sleeping gained him nothing.

More than the domination of minds, he was observing the process of death. It was a fascinating show, witnessing the slow surrender of their bodies. He made mental notes for future experiments. In addition, he practiced the art of draining another’s life essence to power oneself. His little ritual was interrupted as mechanic doors slid open, and a Nautolan dressed in the uniform of a One Sith officer stepped in. “We have arrived, Darth Pyrrhus. Our ships have joined up with the rest of the fleet. We await further orders” the officer struggled to maintain eye-contact with the Togruta, instead stealing nervous glances at the horror show in front of him. “Good. Dismissed.” Pyrrhus replied. He would join them on the bridge soon, though he saw no need to inform the officer of that. The Nautolan answered to Pyrrhus, not the other way around.

With a simple gesture of his hands, the Balmorran prisoners lifted their blades and slit their own throats. Rather unceremoniously, they executed themselves. It was a shame his experiment got cut short, but there would be much time for other such activities in the future. Not even staying to watch their lifeless bodies slump to the cold, durasteel floor, the Sith Knight turned and made his way to the bridge.

He was aboard ‘The Oppressor’, a Talon-class Carrier that he had assumed control over after the ordeal on Coruscant. He had made his then temporary control of the ship permanent. Flanked on the carrier’s left, was Pyrrhus' corvette, The Revenant. Its sensors and elaborate stealth systems made it rather useful, though for this operation, the Togruta Knight remained on the larger of the two ships. While his overall contribution to the fleet was likely small, it became yet another cog in the Sith’s war machine. His presence would make up for it. For all he knew, a portion of the ships might be allocated to his command. However, in an operation such as this, in the presence of no less than two Voices, he would defer to the authority of [member="Darth Hauntruss"] and [member="Darth Vornskr"].

Darth Pyrrhus was, as per usual, dressed in the typical garbs of the Sith; black tunics and undertunics, underneath the long, hooded black robe. Naturally, due to his four lekku and curved montrals, it made the presence of a hood rather redundant. He had now reached the bridge, and was staring at the beauty that was the fleet the Warmaster had amassed. The galaxy would weep for Ithoria today. “Status report. Are all units ready?” he questioned the two officers who flanked him on either side. They were both in charge of their own military aspects, under Pyrrhus’ command of course. “Yes sir! All crew members are at their stations. Pilots are getting to their ships as we speak. We shall be ready to act within a moment’s notice.” The Togruta gave an approving nod, before the other spoke. “All units are equipped and ready, sir.” Both air support and ground forces were prepared, and ready for the massacre to come. "Excellent. Await my command."

Now it was time for Darth Pyrrhus to make his own report. He had been invited here, and to answer his summons, once more he had raised an army from the depths of the dark waters of Glee Anselm. The forces that had followed him ever since the subjugation of Glee Anselm, on worlds such as Fresia, Belgaroth, Balmorra and last but not least, Ord Mirit; they were all ready and at attention, prepared for their next task. They would not disappoint their commander, nor the Voices of the Dark Lord. His mind searched for a familiar presence. Once he located the mass of great darkness floating through space, he opened a line of communication through telepathy.

“I have arrived, Master. My forces are yours. I am ready to execute your will.”

[member="Darth Hauntruss"] [member="Darth Vornskr"] [member="Lord Sebastian"]